Destiel actually makes me so sick. Even if they aren’t gay they’re spending the rest of eternity together. Even if Dean doesn’t feel the same way he’s staying by Castiel’s side forever and always. Even if they aren’t in love Cas would spend the rest of forever by Dean’s side and Dean would let him. Dean would make him if he didn’t and that makes me so incredibly ill.
Again. Butcher - Soldier Boy - Homelander is such a fun constellation in terms of jealousy etc. like it’s truly a love triangle in BOTH the teen slop sense (two parties competing for one party) and the traditional sense (lines go all the way). They’re all kind of jealous of each other.
Butchlander vs Soldier Boy is EASY. Literally nobody fucks his son but him. Also the details of the intricate relationship B&HL have that he was never really invited to understand. Like he doesn’t even know what’s going on between these two. You know he’d secretly hate that. Like there is one main character and it’s clearly him. What do you mean these two are trying to kill each other?! No way. Mýa — Case of the Ex. (Also, different flavour but still very fun: Yung Gravy — oops!)
BenButcher vs Homelander is even easier. HL would absolutely tear shit UP. He had a moment of ‘oh William you resurrected my old hero to kill me FOR ME?! Theehee’ back in S3 but a S5 B/B moment would kill him on the spot. It would be a world ending tantrum. These two should focus on him and him ONLY. How dare they. Etc. NSYNC — it makes me ill. You know that beautiful tribute video on YouTube. That’s the vibe. Also: Lana del Rey — Delicious.
Soldierlander vs Butcher is so much fun. Like I do think he’d hate it. He’s pretend to be nonchalantly grossed out, etc, cool guy facade, oh they’re so pathetic and gross and he’s not surprised etc, but oh I do think he’d hate it. He’d try to lock Sage up until she cooks up a virus specifically for Ben. This man needs to capital D Die.
I need to be his controversially young girlfriend while I sit on his lap and he smokes a cigarette while playing with my hair telling me what a pretty girl I am >⩊<.ᐟ
s.boy x fem!reader ⋮ nsfw, 17+ ⋮ grinding ⋮ riding ⋮ mentions of war ⋮ ben being a cocky s.o.b ⋮ mean!ben ⋮ use of the words 'baby', 'slut', 'doll', and 'cockslut' ⋮ ass slap ⋮ no use of y/n ⋮ reader's appearance is not detailed !
“Look at ‘ya,” Ben grunts, watching you grind down on his lap, little skirt riding up your thighs as you rotate your hips. He had your legs bracketing his thighs, big hands rubbing your soft skin. A wicked smile adorns his lips. Ben’s eyes are narrow slits, green eyes swirling with hunger. “Little fuckin’ patriot.”
Ben was sitting propped up against a lawn chair in your backyard. His long legs were stretched straight out, boots planted firmly on the ground. Spurts of colors painted phantasmagoric images across the night sky, the booming sounds of fireworks ricocheting off the Earth. The lights bathed Ben’s face in red and blue shadows. He looked in his element– America’s colors bouncing off his skin.
It was the 4th of July- a holiday that Ben took seriously. He’d spent the day telling Hughie and Butcher stories from war and what the trenches were like. He recounted how he’d filled a commie with lead, only stopping when the magazine of his gun was empty. He lounged around on the couch and snapped at Butcher whenever he asked him to do something– using the excuse of how he fought for the country to be free. It was another Veterans day for him.
Ben nodded as your hands pawed at his chest, whimpering his name softly. “Please.. Ben, please.” Need had pooled between your legs, leaving a wet patch on his sweatpants right over his crotch.
His hand left your thigh to grab the bottle of beer sat next to him, hand gripping the neck of the bottle. He took a leisurely swig. Grinned when you ground your clothed pussy down onto the outline of his cock. He watched how you withered over him, hips bucking and twitching.
“Ready to thank me, baby?” He asked, setting his beer back down. His eyes glanced down at your figure, holding a sort of power in his gaze that never failed to make you shiver. “Fought for this fuckin’ country. Deserve some fuckin’ gratefulness for slaughtering them fuckin’ commies.”
Ben’s hand bunches up your jean skirt, thumb rubbing your clit through your panties. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you. A whimper falls past your lips, feeling yourself flutter and clench around nothing. When you nod, hips jerking as you chase for friction, Ben coos softly.
He helps you get his cock free from his sweats, pulling it from the slit in the front. You made a mental note to thank whatever high up above for him being allergic to wearing underwear. His cock is large in your hands, thick and heavy. The crown is flushed a deep shade of pink, twitching as you stroke up the length.
Like you were staring down at your favorite food, you felt your mouth water at the sight of it. You knew what would come next. You knew the delicious stretch of your cunt around him would feel like heaven. Every nerve inside your body felt frayed, anticipation bubbling through your veins and clouding your mind.
Ben leans back and grabs his beer, looking down at you without another word. His gaze is predatorial as he watches you peel your panties to the side. He brings the bottle to his lips as you line him up to your entrance, taking a long swig as you sink down on him.
“That’s it, jus’ like that. Bounce on that cock.” His words are slow as he watches you find a rhythm, hips rising and falling and rolling around him. “Earnin’ those stripes, huh slut?”
If you thought Ben was big in your hand, the looks of him was an extreme understatement to him inside you. He stretched your cunt out, thick length splitting you open. Just sitting on him, filled up to the brim, the tip of his cock was kissing your cervix. Your walls clenched around him, the stretch bordering on painful. But every inch felt like magic as he nudged himself further inside.
“Fuck! Ben.. so full.” You mumbled your words as your hips rocked, starting a sloppy rhythm. Your eyes had fluttered shut, focusing only on the immense pleasure each glide of his cock in your cunt brought exploding through your nerves.
Ben’s grunting is barely heard over the clamoring of crackles and booms coming from the sky. His free hand slithers behind your back to slap your ass each time you sink down. It’s not a little love tap– it’s a cracking smack that is sure to leave a handprint on your asscheek.
A mewl leaves your lips as you slip and slide on his cock, chasing after that sweet release. Ben laughs as he watches you try and fail to keep up with the tempo. He watches with faux sympathy before he slams his hips up, length pistoning into you.
His pace is wild. Animalistic. He lets his now empty beer bottle clatter to the ground, hands gripping knot your hips. His hands ignite a fire in your skin, burning all the way down to your bones. He guides you forcefully until you’re babbling and your body goes limp.
“Fuckin’ perfect little pussy.” His voice is rough like gravel, shooting fireworks of pleasure rattling your ears. His grasp is bruising, skin tingling as he slams your hips down against his. “squeezin’ me s’well. shit, I’d fight another million fuckin’ commies just to feel this cunt ‘gain.”
The coil in your abdomen feels tightened, every stroke of his length hurdling you closer to the edge. Every ridge and vein of his cock was indented into your cunt, absolutely ruining you for anyone else. This moment— when Ben’s watching your greedy pussy welcome his cock every time he rutted his hips up into you— was better than winning a damn war.
“Rub that fuckin’ clit, doll.” The command fell from his lips easily, voice smooth as whiskey. “Fuckin’ cum on my cock, you little cockslut.”
Your fingers trembled as they found their place nestled between your folds, rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your eyes fluttered closed. Just focusing on how good everything felt.
You came in tandem with the last boom from the fireworks show, light exploding in the sky as light exploded behind your eyes. It was messy— cunt dripping down the length of him. Walls squeezing him so tight he shot up into you, his mark painting your cervix.
“Happy fuckin’ Independence Day.” He groaned, cock twitching inside of you.
Your body slumped against him, chest heaving as you crashed down from your high. Every light seemed brighter, every crackle louder, and every pass of Ben’s hand up and down your back had you shivering.
This 4th of July would be one for the books.
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