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iwouldfightforfrenchie · 4 months ago

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AAAAAAAaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Falling Hard, Failing Fast: A Hughie Campbell x Reader fic!

You get dosed with... a mystery drug made by Vought. Hughie is a good friend and stays with you while you monitor the side effects.

Warnings: sloppy sex pollen trope usage, dubcon turned just normal con, drugging, friends to lovers under upsetting circumstances, foreplay, sappy missionary, not my best work tbh

“What did they get her with?” Butcher asks, his voice near a yell through the receiver.

Hughie traps his phone between his ear and his shoulder and waves his fingers in front of your face, struggling to get you to focus your eyes. Everything blurs around the edges, the same way blood rushes against your ear drums. All you can focus on though is heat, heat in your knees buckling, heat in Hughie’s other arm around your torso to keep you upright, heat in your head that plunges down your front and settles under your pants.

All you can offer is a weak shake of your head to no one in particular. You don’t know. All you know is heat, and that you’re fading fast.

“I think it’s bad, it was all over her,” Hughie says. He had watched a guard pull something that looked like pepper spray into your face, and he ran into the mist of it to pull you away and back up the stairs, begging you to stay upright the whole time.

“I can’t—“ you mumble, your head falling back against Hughie’s shoulder. Relief, like a cool drink of water, trickles into you at the contact. You need more, you need—

You sober up, almost, as fear cools the fire under your skin momentarily. Your head snaps up, and Hughie immediately goes on the alert.

“Get away from me!” your voice shakes, but it's the most clear you’ve sounded since Hughie grabbed you.

“What? No—,” he stops himself, confused, “No, we have to get you somewhere safe.”

He hangs up the phone in a panic as you try to pull away from him, throwing yourself towards the cold brick wall. He recaptures you, steadying you as you keep trying to lurch away. His bare hand against your arm feels like a white hot poker, feels like he's burning you, but you want it. You want to feel what those burning hands feel like moving across your skin, want to feel the pain they'll leave in their wake; part of you imagines they'd leave a trail of destruction like a forest fire, marks of Hughie all over your skin.

Another wave of heat hits you, this time forcing an embarrassing moan from your lips as you double over, stumbling down the hallway with Hughie still painfully attached to you. There's a basement apartment being used as a safe house up ahead, and if you can just get to a bed, or a couch, or even the floor to sweat this out you’ll be fine and maybe survive with your dignity.

You hear Hughie curse as you try to pick up speed, your sweaty hands clawing at his grasp on you. You don’t care if you seem insane in this moment, you just need to barricade yourself in…. alone.

Hughie helps you in, punching in the door code on the lockbox and fumbling with the key once it’s free, while you lean into the door frame, sweat starting to gather at your hairline. Once the door is open, you practically throw yourself in. The safe house is scarce; a simple kitchen with a can of corn on the counter, a navy futon, a radio, a folding chair, a bathroom. Dread pools in your stomach, settling right above the heat churning, as you realize: Hughie is not going to leave you alone in a place like this.

You shrug him off, dropping yourself to lay flat on the floor, your face to the ceiling. You screw your eyes shut, the muscles of your face hurting from how hard you’re trying to hide yourself from this. You must look like a fucking mess to Hughie, you realize, with sweat starting to coat your skin and your chest heaving as you struggle not to writhe on the floor in pain.

He rushes to the sink in the sad excuse for a kitchen, running the tap with water. Hughie mumbles to himself while he searches the cupboards for a cup or a mug.

You stare up at the off white ceiling- one of those sloppy paint jobs a slumlord does to turn a profit. It probably covers mold.

You pray silently that Hughie brings you water and leaves you the fuck alone before you embarass yourself any more than you already have. At some point the heat has to subside, right? At some point the painful desire in your gut has to fade away, right?

You close your eyes again, trying to block out the sensations you feel to no avail, the hopeless idea that if you hide from the situation it will go away.

But then Hughie’s sneakers are shuffling across the cheap thin carpet towards you, and he sits down on the floor next to you instead of taking a seat on the futon. You put your hands on your face to try and further hide from him, and realize how big a mistake you just made.

A low moan escapes your throat, relief from the heat not found, instead the same burning Hughie’s hands had on you in the hallway. Pleasure, embarrassing and wanton, shoots through you seemingly from the palms of your hands.

“What can I do for you?” he asks, and you can hear the dull thud of the mug he chose being placed on the ground.

“Leave,” you pant out, your voice wavering and airy.

“Not gonna happen,” he immediately responds, a breath of a chuckle exhaled through his nose. It's silent for a minute, maybe more, time feels weird and far away right now. The world has stopped and you feel like you're melting.

And then that stabbing, burning, sublime pleasure erupts on your skin again.

A strangled cry whines itself out between your closed lips as Hughie takes your hands in his own; a movement too tender and intimate for what you are.

“You’re so… hot,” Hughie whispers, concern laced in the edges of his voice. His touch sends shockwaves through you. You whimper pitifully as you finally open your eyes, just a crack. Worry is painted all over Hughie’s handsome face, his brows furrowed and eyes wide, his lips falling open. In this moment he looks like he would do anything for you, and you can't ask him to do this. You squeeze your eyes shut again, so tight you fear you may start tearing up. Hughie squeezes your hand in his, and you whimper again, your chest heaving and your body betraying you.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, no. Hurt isn’t exactly the word you’d use. Your limbs feel heavy, your head feels heavy, and Hughie’s touch feels like heaven, featherlight and fresh.

You want him to keep squeezing your hand, you want him to squeeze other things, to grab you, those long fingers curling around your flesh. Another moan escapes your lips at the thought and Hughie freezes up. His hand drops yours, unfortunately. The heat rages again.

“Oh,” Hughie says, voice small. He searches your face, and as hard as you try to shy away from him, he still finds you.

“Is it touch?” he asks, “Something to do with me touching you?”

You nod, embarrassment flushing your features.

“More? Less?” He presses, and it's so fucking sweet how much he wants to help you. It hurts how nice he’s being about this. You ache between your legs, and wish he would stop being so nice about this.

“More,” you plead, arching your back in discomfort. Hughie’s hands are back on you in an instant, pulling you up to sit so he can massage your shoulders. Your forehead falls onto his shoulder, and you move closer to him, your hands moving across his ribs. He leans into the embrace, his large hands guiding you to lean yourself onto him as he rubs circles into your skin, ripples of pleasure radiating out from each spot he touches. He switches from massaging you to just rubbing your back, his hands moving over your tee shirt and roaming the expanse of space.

His fingers trace your spine, stoking the fire and bringing you relief, if only slightly. You move similarly, hands feeling completely right as you try to follow the same patterns he traces along your back onto his.

“I need…” you beg him again, desperate and shameless. You’re gasping for breath as you continue to move against him, your hands moving up under his shirt, his back feeling almost cold under the heat of your hands. You dont miss the way Hughie shivers at your touch. He keeps rubbing your back, adding more pressure to his touch. You squirm against him and moan, and then Hughie stops.

He pulls you back by the shoulders.

“Holy shit. Are you?” he asks, bewildered, but then something else crosses his features. Something you can't exactly read.

“I think so,” you mumble, again trying to look away, trying to hide from him, “That’s why I wanted you to get away from me.”

Hughie seems to ponder this for a moment, his eyes searching your face, and then they dip lower.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you never thought of Hughie that way.

“I can help? If- only if you want…” he trails off, unsure. You can’t agree to that, no matter how much you want to. It would feel amazing, his hands on you, roaming and groping and taking, his mouth on you. You shiver, not a chill.

“Help?” you echo, and that look you can't read crosses his features again.

“Like I could,” he pauses, finds the word, “Try to give you a hand?”

If you werent already burning up and soaking wet, you would be. How does Hughie sound so effortlessly arousing in a situation like this? Maybe its just the literal drug you were dosed with, though. Either way, it doesnt matter. You cling to him, nails starting to dig into his skin.

“I- I couldn't ask you to-”

“But you’re not,” he interrupts, “I’m offering.”

He is offering. Offering to get you off as if thats a normal thing to offer one of your friends on a Wednesday afternoon. Like he’s offering to help you move or put together a book shelf.

You pull yourself in closer to him again, resting your forehead back on his shoulder. It’s less embarrassing this way.

“Let’s try it,” you mumble into his chest. This way, you dont have to face him, you can hide from it and maybe keep a shred of your dignity.

He moves his hands lower, sliding them down to your hips. Hughie guides you back down, laying you out on the ground. He takes away your ability to hide from him. Now hovering over you, he smiles slightly as he takes you in. He steadily raises a hand, moves it down between the two of you, stopping over the button of your jeans.

“Can I?”

You only nod, no turning back now.

He undoes your jeans slowly, as if he’s the one with something to be nervous or shy about. His fingers are warm against the cool metal of you zipper, the sound as he drags it down mixing with the sound of you gasping for breath, a cacophony of desperation and nervous lust.

Hughie leans back on the heels of his converse, his fingers hooking themselves under the hem of your jeans and pulling them down gently, care in every step. You whimper as you lift yourself up slightly, letting him pull the jeans over your thighs. He stops at your knees, your legs trapped in place by denim.

“Okay?” he asks, and “okay,” you also confirm. So Hughie takes it a step further, his hand coming to the waistband of your underwear, a black mesh thong that really looks like you were asking to be dosed with sex mist, but ultimately the case of the fact that you had yet to do laundry this week and all of your comfortable briefs were sitting in the laundry bag ready to be carried down the steps of your walk-up.

His fingers dip below the fabric,and when his middle finger brushes the top of your slit your body contorts beyond your control, a strangled cry leaving your lips.

“Shh, I’ll take care of you,” he reassures you, leaning down further as his hand travels further, his middle finger leading the charge and stroking you. Each movement is like a breath of fresh air, Hughie’s hand a lifeline to calm the fires within you. His lips part as he reaches your clit, fingertip to pearl.

Hughie’s eyes bore into yours, lust of his own growing in them. You don't feel as embarrassed anymore, instead, something dreadful that mixes with your hunger. It's going to be hard to stop after this, it's going to be hard to be in the same room after this, knowing that look in his eyes.

“Touch me, please,” you whisper, the words leaving your lips and sealing some kind of unspoken pact.

He nods his head, obeying you as his hand dips lower. Hughie teases, but not really. Every slow movement is deliberate, testing the waters, gaging comfort and mapping it out for himself as well. It’s careful, calculated, and generous. Just like the kind of friend Hughie always is.

But all thoughts go quiet as his middle finger slides into you with no resistance, and finally it feels as if there is an end in sight to your predicament. His finger feels… divine. Feels like it belongs there, feels like your salvation, and he your savior.

He slides his finger in you to the knuckle, curls it gently, and then slides it almost completely out again.

“You're so… wet,” he comments, and then a blush radiates up from his neck to his cheeks, as if embarrassed that thought did not stay in his head. You lean into his touch, nails raking into the cheap carpet to cement yourself in place. Your eyes don't miss how his free hand moves to his thigh, his own fingers gripping at the material of his jeans.

He starts again, pushing all the way into you, then almost completely out, then all the way in again. Then Hughie picks up his pace, steady and sure as he begins to thrust his middle finger in and out of you, starts to earnestly fuck you with it. The sounds that come out of your mouth are pathetic at best, whining moans and pants and unintelligible begging for more, all of which he obliges enthusiastically.

You arch your back into his motion, chasing the rhythm of his fingers, the wet sounds between your legs now filling the air and adding to the sound of your already labored breathing. Hughie is short of breath as well, laser focused on you and all too reactive to your body. He meets every movement with one to match, like physics, actions and reactions. He watches your face for any changes, watches you hungrily, his lips parted and eyes dark.

It doesn't take much, especially when Hughie adds another finger, and both start moving within you. He curls them along the most sensitive part of you, doesn't hold back as he pulls keening moans from your lips and whispers words of encouragement the whole time.

You come quieter than either of you expect, with a few shuddering breaths and tears that Hughie wipes away, with your teeth buried in your bottom lip and his hand stilled against you. He lets you ride it out as gracefully as you can, not daring to move his fingers from inside you while his other hand continues to smooth down your hair and wipe away tears.

It’s only when you still, relief and calm finally replacing the heat, that Hughie slowly pulls his fingers from you. Your breath hitches, your body still sensitive to his touch, to his long fingers. He pulls his hand out of your underwear, and leans back onto his heels again, the comforting warmth that came from him leaving you. Finally, you feel cool, normal. A fever breaking.

“Was that? Was it good?” Hughie asks, sounding nervous. Was it good? It was exactly how you thought Hughie would pleasure a woman. Lovely, thoughtful, with your care in mind. You want it again, just not under these circumstances. You would like to imagine a date, maybe dinner or drinks, maybe a movie, and then a lovely trip back to either of your apartments and a taxi ride because you're too eager to deal with the subway.

But yes, it was good.

And as soon as the relief flows through you, it seeps away, a bucket with a hole in the bottom. The heat returns. You shake your head desperately; No, it did not help, not enough. Tears well in your eyes.

“I still feel-” you cut yourself off.

“It was good!” you explain hastily, desperately, panicked, “It was good. But I’m still…”

You don’t exactly have the words for it.

“You need more,” he finishes, not asking, but telling you. You press your lips into a thin line, shame at the thought of what Hughie just did not being enough for you. You look away from him, not wanting to say the words. Once again, you think about asking him to leave, asking him to go and let this pass and then maybe one day it could be a funny story.

But then you see movement from the corner of your eye.

It looks like Hughie was just rubbing his nose, but then his tongue darts out from between his lips and to the side of his middle finger. From that hand, the one that was just between your legs. He puts his hand down quickly, too quickly for it to be a natural movement.

The fire within you floods down the front of you, back with the debilitating vengeance from before. If you were standing, it would have knocked you to the floor.

“Hughie, did you?” you ask, unsure if you should truly accuse him, your voice shaking the entire time.

“Can I say I was just curious?” he asks, a sheepish smile on his face.

You narrow your eyes at him again, trying to hide any of the discomfort that might be returning to your features. You don't believe that. And luckily, Hughie caves quickly under this kind of scrutiny.

“Okay, I was curious! I was,” Hughie admits, the blush across his cheeks darkening. You don't even want to ask what conclusions he came to, this horny-embarrassed-nervous-hungry combination doing a number on your thought process.

You only nod at him, slightly skeptical.

“And you… you need more? So I could-,” he pauses, recollects himself so he doesnt ramble.

“I could do more? I could help more?”

You're taken aback by this, pushing your elbows under you to lean up towards him, ignoring the fact that you're still exposed to him. More? How could you ask him for more? Even though this time and the first time he offered, how could you accept?

“I couldn't… I can't ask you to do that, Hughie,” you cringe as the words come out of your mouth, your head betraying what your body wants, but it's the right thing to do, right?

“Well, you wouldn't have to do much asking,” Hughie sighs, his eyes darting from his own lap to the lightswitch on the wall, away from you.

Your eyes follow where his fell and… oh.

From what you can tell, he’s rock hard, the zipper of his jeans bulging as it holds him in place. Hughie liked that just as much as you did. If things were not already complicated, they are now.

Again, he’s offering.

“It's a big step,” you say, trying to give him an out. You can't ask him to do this, it's not fair. You're not in your right mind, despite how willing he is.

“Ah, yeah, you're right,” he admits, then, “this isn't how I wanted it to go-”

“Wanted it to go?” you interrupt him.

“Like if we ever, you know,” he’s getting truly flustered now, his hands gesticulating to try and explain what his mouth can't. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, and then his shoulders sag.

“Let me help you.”

The air, everything in the room shifts between the two of you, something new and heavy. He doesn’t tear his gaze from you, and you don’t dare break eye contact. Instead, you nod slowly; giving him full permission, giving yourself full permission.

Within a second, he's positioning himself over you again, this time with his knee between your thighs. The heat radiating off of him somehow stokes and calms yours, his proximity its own salve after he’s already made you come once.

He leans down to kiss you, his lips fully covering yours. His lips are wet, his stubble coarse against your skin. He’s sure to rub off the makeup around your mouth and leave you with beard burn on your chin and cheeks, but that's the least of your worries. He kisses hungrily, passionately, fierce unlike the normally level headed and more meek member of the team he usually is. His lips seem to pull moans from yours, your tongues and teeth clattering and tangling together.

His hands move across your skin, his thumbs rubbing circles down your sides, reaching further and further down. He stops and pauses almost awkwardly, the first time in this entire encounter that Hughie has shown any of his awkward tendencies. He pushes himself off his hands and knees just enough to get a good grip on your jeans and yank them down. Hughie only pauses when you kick off your shoes, both of you working together to free you of the confines of pants.

You spread your legs for him gladly when he crawls his way back on top of you, settling himself firmly between your legs. His hips rut and bump against the wet patch of your thong, and briefly it fills you with an odd sense of pride that it may leave a stain on his jeans, that he may carry a physical trophy of this moment.

Hughie’s lips are back on yours quickly, his hands careful and gently as they guide themselves around your body. His fingers dip into your collarbones, palms full of the swell of your chest, ghost over your ribs in a tickle.

Your hips buck, needy and desperate against him, and he pins you down with his own. Fucking hot, in a way you didnt expect from Hughie Campbell.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, and he nods, practically swallowing your words.

“Wait I have a,” he cuts himself off, and pulls his wallet from his back pocket, producing a beaten up looking trojan condom ribbed for ‘her pleasure’. He holds it up to you between two fingers with a smile.

“Why do you carry that?” you ask, honestly taken aback at his forethought.

“Well after Herogasm anything is possible, so I figure it's better safe than sorry,” Hughie jokes, and for a brief moment it makes you wonder what other odd shit he might store in his pockets or wallet.

You roll your hips again, and he gets the message. You need him now.

Hughie tosses the condom down near your shoulder, and untangles himself from you. You take the opportunity to pull the rest of your clothes off, as he sheds his just as hastily. All of your clothes get thrown into a messy pile, to the side, neither of you care.

Hughie practically throws himself down on top of you the moment he's bare, rolling the condom down his shaft quickly before he's rubbing himself along your entrance. He wants this just as badly as you do, and you feel guilty for doubting him earlier.

“Ready?” he asks, already breathless. You grant him a nod, a nervous smile on your face, and that's all he needs.

He pushes into you slowly, filling you. You're surprised at the way your breath gets caught in your throat, knocking the wind out of you. You did not get a good look at what Hughie is working with before, and you’re very much wishing you did. He bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against you.

He nods, as if asking if this is okay, and you push your head up and rub the tip of your nose against his. Hughie laughs, and the tension of the moment breaks.

You lift your legs, coming up to wrap them around his hips as he settles himself.

“You're so tight,” he breathes, a lazy smile on his face as he rolls his hips, testing the waters the same way he did when his fingers were inside you. He’s checking on you, making sure your comfort is first. He pulls himself almost completely out, and then back in, and then repeats the whole process. The head of his cock drags within you, rubs against the same spots that had you seeing stars earlier. You're not uncomfortable, not too sensitive, and Hughie seems to sense that.

Hughie wastes no time speeding up his pace, pressing himself deeper and deeper, never fully pulling out of you between thrusts. He fucks into you not like a friend doing another friend a favor, but like a lover, he fucks into you like he wants to wake up next to you. Hughie presses kisses to your face, hips lips all over you, his stubble scratching you just like you knew it would.

"You feel amazing," he whispers against your skin, "So fucking perfect."

Your moans are like a staccato, punctuated and cut short with each thrust, as Hughie fills you to the hilt you lose all ability to use your voice. He pushes your bodies flush together, connecting completely. Hughie moves against you like he can't get close enough, like he wants you both to fuse together. The friction between your bodies as he moves, the way each thrust drags along the most sensitive parts of you, its all so much. Whatever's going on with you or not, this may just be the best sex of your life. Hughie leaves no part of you untouched and no part of you unsatisfied. You can feel your edge approaching fast, too fast, and you wish you could make this moment last longer.

Its no use, however, as Hughie pulls your leg from his hip to the side, granting himself access to your clit, where he rubs harsh circles against you.

“Come on, give me one,” he pants against your jawline, and how could you deny him?

He presses his hand a little harder, speeds up the thrusting of his hips, that friction and closeness never being sacrificed for his speed, and something within you breaks.

You cry out, a high pitched call of his name, before shaking sobs wrack your frame, your back arching your chest into his, Hughie never slowing down as he pushes you through this.

This orgasm feels like a jump into the ocean, refreshing and cooling to the fire inside you.

Hughie works you through your orgasm, your bodies rocking together as you come down from your high. He pulls himself out only when you come back to him, when your breathing starts to regulate, when your muscles start to relax.

Hughie moves desperately himself, rutting against the apex of your thigh, spilling into his condom only moments after, your hands tangled in the short curls of his hair.

He moves away from you, the loss of contact genuinely having you feel cold, only to pull off and tie off the condom. Hughie comes back to you quickly, his arms immediately coming around your as your limbs tangle once more.

“Don't worry,” Hughie comforts you, pulling your chest against his tightly. His sweat mixed with his cologne smells almost sweet, decadent. One of his hands comes up to smooth down your hair, sweaty and messed up from the friction of the carpet, his other hand grabs your hip. The heat subsiding temporarily again, this time, it feels less painful, less all consuming. Its getting weaker.

“We’ll be at this as long as it takes, I’ll help.”

You believe him, and nod, your cheek against his shoulder. He presses a kiss to your hairline.

“Afterwards maybe a shower and I can buy you a coffee? I mean, I think this place has hot water,” he asks, nervousness in his voice. A shower would be nice, but you doubt this place has even one towel.

“A coffee?” you echo.

“You know,” he explains himself, “so I can say I took you on a date, so that we can be… you know… normal about this.”

“You want to take me on a date?” you lift your head, and that unreadable expression is back in his gaze.

“That wasn't obvious by now?”

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iwouldfightforfrenchie · 4 months ago

Text

I’m crying gagging, whimpering, rolling on the ground!!!!! Aaaaaaaahhhhh!

COME CLOSER

Summary: Reader asks her friend, Soldier Boy to take her virginity.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), virgin reader!, smut, language, rough Soldier Boy, beard kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, friends with benefits

Word Count: 4052

A/N: English is not my first language.

You grabbed the gun from Ben's suit and placed it in your bag without even waiting for a response since you knew he wouldn't refuse you. “May I take this?” you said. “Just for safety issues.”

Ben joined the team to kill Homelander months ago, and because you two have been on missions together for so long, you two have kind of gotten to know one another. He frequently teased you, and most of the time he really got on your nerves. Another thing Butcher's wanted from you regarding Ben was to make sure you kept an eye on him while he was high or furious.

He sighed, “You are already in safe hands,” and then gave you a little push toward the car, where Butcher and the other members of the team were waiting. “You know that you are something different. Trying to protect yourself with a firearm in spite of the fact that you already have three supes with you, me included, who are the strongest and greatest.”

“After the job is completed, even the biggest dicks become smaller. I wonder if your gigantic ego will ever be smaller one day, Ben.”

“Not mine,” he winked at you in between his laughter before the two of you entered the car. “How on earth does a naive virgin speak like that? I must discipline your dirty mouth at some point.”

He pushed until you reached the other side of the seat, and you muttered, “Shut up.” Your face flushed. “You leave no space for me.”

“Do I look like your personal driver?” Butcher growled at Hughie to come in too, questioned in a disapproving tone. Then Butcher turned back to Hughie, who was sitting in the passenger seat, and said, “Where the fuck is your girlfriend?”

“She arrived earlier with the others. They were driven there by Frenchie already.”

“Will you shut up and drive?” Ben messed with your hair for a while while ignoring what you said that he was going to ruin it, saying to Butcher in an irritated manner.

“Good boy gone bad, huh?” Ben ignored you and filled the entire seat between your complaints. Butcher murmured, “Let's fucking have some fun there since we may not be finding any free time soon, Navy girlies.”

Luckily, Butcher managed to locate a club devoid of supes, but it was still massive and insane, complete with loud music. Hughie's gaze found Annie right away, and Butcher followed after him while he winked at the girl who was staring at him with a chuckle.

You gave Ben a drink and complained, “Do I have to babysit you?” Even though all of the girls were capturing his attention, he was undoubtedly hearing what you were saying.

He patted your head and said, "Babysit me?" with a look of astonishment. "Sweetheart, it's me who has been watching you for several months. After all, it's easy for you to get into trouble."

"Me?" As he messed with your hair, you giggled and attempted to push his hands away. "You're always on the verge of being furious for no reason at all, and I have to keep your ego boosted when you are about to lose it."

"Or maybe I act it this way to get you even more anxious; what do you think? Your human face looks so funny when you're trying to calm me," he smirked and remarked with arrogance.

Punching him in the chest, you said, "You're impossible," although your wrist ached. You sighed in agony, "Fuck, Ben," and made sure everything was okay by looking at your hand. Thankfully, there were no physical wounds.

"Why the fuck have you tried to punch me now? Haven't you still learned I'm built to last?" he complained, gently massaging your hands.

You muttered, "You're so annoying," while he sighed and released your hands. "I can't imagine why almost nobody likes you."

"All you do this evening is talk rudely with that lovely mouth of yours and spit poison. Also, you are to blame. How many times do I have to tell you not to try to punch me? Wish to adopt a tough-ass persona? You're just a little sensitive, soft doll," he continued to tease, causing you to flush with rage.

"Remember the day I gave myself a Temp-V injection? When I really punched you, you seemed rather surprised, and I'm sure it hurt."

“I didn't think being a temporary Supe could happen, and that was a while ago.” Ben continued to smirk and replied, “Keep that in mind. I was merely trying to comprehend the change in your scent when you unexpectedly struck me and pushed me against the wall. You know, I should have been doing that. Of course, I'm not referring to the punching; rather, I'm speaking to the second one, but more gently.”

Ben flirted with you, giving you a tiny pinch on the chin and a wink. He was perhaps the most flirtatious man ever, but the reason he acted this way was that you told him you were a virgin, and even when he understood you were becoming too shy and a little anxious, he continued to tease you verbally. You didn't feel uncomfortable about it, though.

“Whatever.” You rushed to end it, fearing he would start talking even more profanely. You tried to silence him by putting your palm over his mouth. “When are you going to shave this beard? It's really lengthy.”

He murmured, “I thought you liked it longer and thicker,” as he combed his facial hair.

This time, instead of being annoyed, you giggled. “You're impossible.”

You said, “I'm going to check on Annie and others,” feeling a little guilty for something you didn't even understand when you saw him searching for women who fit his tastes. “So that you can have your fun.”

Ben, who had just bought a drink for himself, approached a redhead who had been staring at him passionately ever since he entered the bar. You led the way to join Annie and the rest of the team, but you were carrying a heavy weight that you couldn't quite explain. You did your best to ignore the stupid ache in your heart and laugh out loud at Butcher's half-made-up stories. It was a rare, heartfelt moment of calm after months, shared by all of you as you briefly watched the redhead woman take Ben's head and lead him to the second floor.

Ben's social batteries ran out after a few hours, and when he got into a fight with Butcher, you volunteered to take him home in your car because you were starting to have headaches too. Annie and Kimiko were dancing in the center; it appeared like they were just getting started. Either their heightened enthusiasm was to blame, or you simply didn't feel like having fun at that particular time. Ben was the source of your annoyance because he preferred to spend his time in the club having fun with other women and left you kind of alone.

You just said, “I will drive Ben back; just stop arguing for once,” and snatched Butcher's keys. “I assume everyone will be arriving home late. It appears that Kimiko and Annie won't be calling it a night anytime soon.” After observing them for some time, they realized you were right. Kimiko was high as fuck.

Ben didn't have a shower in his own room, so he quickly took one in yours once you drove home. Surprisingly, he hasn't complained to Butcher about it in any manner, and you've allowed him to use yours anytime he needs to, even if he occasionally takes a shower a bit too frequently, leading you to believe that he does it on purpose to irritate and enrage you so that you two can argue. But no matter what, his unique word choice never failed to make you chuckle.

As he was taking care of himself in the bathroom, you considered something you had long since ignored: your virginity. You could never go one step beyond, not even if you were in your mid-20s. You just didn't want it to be just one fleeting, pointless act, and you didn't feel anything at all. Perhaps you were a shamefully traditional person who was eagerly awaiting the realization of your real fate.

Ben used to make jokes about your virginity, which you didn't mind, but tonight it kind of got under your skin and made you feel uneasy, like there was something wrong with you. It just didn't seem right at all to be a virgin in your mid-twenties.

“You appear to be lost in thoughts. What's consuming your mind so much?” Ben queried.

His long beard and damp hair were pouring over the floor as he emerged from the bathroom, his thick, muscular belly wrapped in a towel. Your eyebrows are raised between your sighs. Though you always knew he was extremely attractive, he seemed even more so at this moment.

Ben glanced at your short dress too, seeing that you were staring at him as your lips parted slightly in a hint of yearning. He smirked, conceited, seeing your legs pushed together.

“I think I can make a guess.” He walked over to sit on the bed next to you and mumbled.

You hesitantly said, “I was thinking something,” not quite sure what to say exactly.

“About?”

You abruptly asked, trying not to flush too much as you moved the bed and fully turned your body to face him. “Would you take my virginity?”

Ben exclaimed, “What?” with his lips parted in wonder as he tried to understand what you meant and raised an eyebrow.

“You already heard me.”

Ben laughed and ignored your request, saying, “Are you drunk or do you need to jerk off? You're going to be a good nun when you grow up.”

“I'm serious here,” you said, blushing red from embarrassment and rage at the fact that the fact that he didn't take you seriously at all.

Ben's mocking expression changed to one of confusion as he realized you were serious. “I thought you were waiting for the love of your life or something. Why did you change your mind all of a sudden?”

“I wasn't waiting for someone,” you denied right away. “I decided being like this bothers me, and I want to change it.”

You continued, “We have known each other for months, and I think we kind of formed a good friendship during this time,” before he said anything, you added, “It must be okay to ask your friend for help, and it's better than to be with a total stranger, right?”

“I'm not the right person to share something like that.” Ben said in a serious tone, “I don't know why you made this decision so quickly, but you'll regret it tomorrow, I promise. If you are horny, I can give fingerfuck you, though.” It was clear that he was not hearing you clearly.

“It's not really that significant, is it? I didn't wait for someone right away, as I had said. If I knew I would regret saying it, I wouldn't have said it in the first place. What's the purpose of friends?”

Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his damp arms to gauge his reaction while also conveying your concern. You felt your small confidence begin to fade as you noticed he was staring at you with the same expression, so you brought your hands back to yourself. “Well, of course I won't try to convince you to take my virginity if you don't want to get into such an intimate interaction with me,” you said, trying not to seem offended or disappointed. “It's a different issue.”

Your heart raced under your thin dress as you anxiously awaited his response.

“I would fuck you with pleasure; it's not that I don't want it,” he added, examining your bare legs and breasts as they rose and fell in time with your heavy breaths. He whispered, placing his rough palms on your chin. “But I can't promise it won't hurt, and I don't want it to be just a one-time thing.”

You muttered, “I know it's going to hurt,” and at last he relaxed and seemed to agree.

He smirked and continued, “I'll fuck your cunt whenever I want,” staring right into your eyes and making you tremble at the sensation. “You'll spread your legs for me and beg me to fuck you.”

“It's better,” you said as his hand lowered to your throat, causing you to become even more thrilled. You chuckled awkwardly and murmured, “Practice makes perfect, right?”

Your lips parted in ecstasy as his thumb massaged your hardened nipple, and he gently pinched it between his fingers through your dress. He didn't even slightly break eye contact with you, as if he wanted to watch every move you made.

Ben mumbled, “I wonder if you're dripping under there already,” as he climbed on top of you. Feeling uncertain about what action to take, you placed your quivering hands on his large chest.

His palm stroked your pussy through your underpants, and you clenched around nothing, murmuring, “I feel like it.” You were already embarrassingly drenched; you knew that.

“Ben,” you murmured quickly, and his hand instantly froze there. He stared at you, confused, not knowing if you wanted to stop or not. You grabbed his wrist and stopped him just as he was about to return his hand to himself. “Can you do the entire job for tonight” you said in a hesitant manner. “I have absolutely no idea what to do.”

Ben surprised you with a kiss on the forehead and said, “Of course I'll do the entire job. You just lay down and relax. I'm going to take care of you well, okay?”

You nodded quickly, trusting that Ben knew what to do when he started to rub your pussy through your underwear again. Your hips rose higher to meet his movements as he played with your clit with a gentle thumb. “Let's get rid of your dress, huh?” he said, helping you to remove it from your body. You were lying under him naked, except for your underwear.

You wanted to hide your body with your hands because you felt a little shy, but you forced yourself to look at him with courage because you wanted this to be good. Even if he was already erect under the towel, he ignored his own needs to give you the pleasure you needed first.

Then he pinched your nipples once more and added, “You have such lovely tits.” Before you could respond, he put his warm lips on one of your tits and started sucking, giving you very light bites. You were a little scared that he could harm you because you had a big power imbalance since he was a supe, but you chose to put your trust in him because you knew he had experience having intercourse with normal people just like you.

As he continued licking both of your nipples, you placed your hands behind his hair and pulled. You pushed his head to your tit as you raised your hip to match his movement, but you moaned loudly when he ripped off your panties and inserted one of his meaty fingers inside of you slowly, even though you were trying really hard not to scream. It was difficult to take even one finger, so tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn't want to ruin the moment.

Groaning, “Fuck, you are tighter than I expected,” he lifted his head.

When he noticed your pained expression, he began to gently massage your clit with his thumb once again. Thankfully, this helped you feel better, and after a while, you began to slowly tighten around his finger.

He asked in a rough voice, “Do you like me fingering you?” and continued to push his finger in and out. “Your pussy is so adorable and swollen. You so desperately need me to fuck you raw.”

He commanded, “Tell me it's just for me,” tensing up his motions as you continued to tighten around his finger.

You said, “Just for you,” and he attempted to press another finger, but you were simply too tense to take it. You said, “Ben, be slow,” in a panic.

“In order for you to take me easier, we need to properly prepare your little pussy. Now spread your legs and don't cover that adorable cunt,” he gave another command. It was then that you realized you were attempting to press your legs together.

You spread your legs so he could see you as per the directions he gave. You let out a loud cry of pleasure and agony as he carefully inserted another finger. Ben swallowed your groans and stretched you with two fingers, his warm lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

You were moaning inside his mouth while his tongue and fingers dominated you. Ben felt your wetness on his fingers, your hips rising to match his rhythm, and he felt like he might come without even touching himself.

With a harsh voice, he commanded, “Cum on my fingers,” and proceeded to fuck you while your walls tensed up. With a loud moan and his name between your lips, you nailed his biceps while he watched you orgasm under his touch. “Good girl. You are so easy to make cum. Fuck, you're a needy one.”

You continued orgasming and wetting them while Ben held your fingers within. Even though your pussy felt extremely sensitive, he continued to finger you without giving you a minute's break after your climax had passed.

“Ben, it feels sensitive.”

“Fucking take it,” he growled. “You'll come as much as I want you to.”

You muttered, “I don't think I can,” as your legs continued to shake uncontrollably.

“You can and you will,” Ben responded, and he proceeded to fuck you even more forcefully than before.

The bedroom was filled with obscene noises, and your eyes welled up with tears of pleasure.

“Cum to me,” he commanded again, and you instantly clenched around his fingers. Putting your hands over his head, you kissed him, pressing your lips to his in an attempt to stop your moans.

As you orgasmed, you sensed him grinning slightly against your lips throughout the kiss. He whispered, “You're so fucking tight, you're almost going to lock me inside your pussy,” as you calmed down after your climax subsided. “I guess you're ready now.”

Your eyes widened with fear and dread as he removed the towel from his belly and threw it to the ground, revealing his firm cock. Ben began to give himself brief strokes while spreading your legs apart. Aware of your discomfort, he smiled slightly at you. “I'll do my best to be gentle. You're enough soaked already.”

You nodded to him, waiting tensely as you watched him pump himself between his rough hands. You tensed up abruptly as the tip of his cock touched your entrance, and he took himself in hand after giving it enough strokes.

He said, “Relax,” and kept pushing the tip inside. “Fuck, take it already.”

You attempted to let him in, your legs trembling with desire and dread, but you couldn't stop clenching.

You whimpered, your eyes welling with tears, as he thrust his cock inside with a forceful move. You also pulled his hair around his neck. Your hips were being held in place by his hands, preventing you from moving them. You were certain that it would bruise badly.

You cried out in fear, “Ben,” as he persisted in pushing. Tears fell from the corner of your eyes onto the covers when you were nailing his arms.

He groaned, “Calm down,” and gave you some time to relax. “It's just the head.”

“Sorry,” you said, ashamed that you weren't able to bear pain and adding unnecessary difficulty to the procedure.

His eyes widened at the sight of your face, and he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. He whispered, “Hey, it's okay. You take me so good, so warm,” in between kisses and proceeded to place his cock inside of you once more. You knew it was a major step for you when you felt like he broke your hymen. This time, his hands gently remained on your hips as he sensed a change in your feelings.

Thank goodness, you relaxed between his kisses and compliments, and your wetness allowed him to enter at last. Ben gave you time to get used to his size after his cock completely filled your insides.

After planting another hard kiss on your lips, he asked, “Are you okay now?” and stroked your cheeks.

You responded, “I'm okay,” as the agony lessened and you began to get pleasure from his cock pulsing inside of you.

Ben put his hands on the sheets, and as he started to move slowly inside of you, you locked your legs around his hip.

He groaned, “You're so tight around me,” as he began to move faster. “I should have fucked you sooner.”

He gave you quick kisses, and his bushy beard tickled your chin as he began to fuck you quickly and roughly. “I'll turn this little cunt addicted to my cock.”

As you continued to moan beneath him, he gave another order: “Tell me you want me to fuck you hard.”

You murmured, “Please,” and he slowed down.

Ben wrapped his hand around your neck and said, “Beg me properly,” but he wasn't using force against you.

You sighed, “Fuck me hard, please, Ben.” You moaned as you saw his mucsles stretching as he continued to penetrate you quickly and roughly. Your hands nailed his chest and broad abdomen.

He put your legs on his shoulders and stated, “I'm going to fuck you every day; make you my little cumslut. Do you enjoy having your friend fuck you? Does this turn you on?”

When he kept talking filth, you couldn’t stop clenching around his cock.

He moaned, “Fuck,” in between hard strokes. “Look at this pussy clench. You really get turned on by it.”

Ben intensified his movements as your legs trembled with pleasure around his hips, and you felt your climax strike with a loud moan and a cunning sneer on his face. You tried biting your lip to muffle the moans, but it was difficult as Ben fucked you raw, on top of you, dominating your whole body.

He whispered, “I'm going to fuck your face another time,” and put his thumb inside your mouth. “Suck it. Prove to me how much you crave my cock inside your mouth.”

You groaned in displeasure as he slowed. Ben strictly said, “Suck it, show me how badly you want my cock inside your mouth, and I'll fuck you as you need,” when you lifted your hips to get him to return to his previous rhythm.

With the expectation that he would like it, you put your lips around his thumb and started to lick it with your tongue.

He mumbled, “Fuck yes, gonna cum inside that mouth,” and started fucking you quickly and roughly once more.

He muttered, “Almost there,” and continued to fuck you while staring at your bouncing tits.

His hardness continued to throb inside of you as you tightened around him one more time and orgasmed. He moaned and spilled inside of you, filling you with his thick and warm ropes.

Ben continued to fill your pussy as your climax subsided. You felt incredibly satisfied because you felt so full of his seed.

When he was finished, he carefully pulled out his cock, exposing the blood at the tip. Ben gave you a long, hard kiss on the lips when he noticed you were staring at it.

You offered him a tiny smile as he whispered, “Come closer,” and he embraced you with his large arms. “Are you alright?”

You continued to stroke his beard while responding, “Yes.” Actually, you've never felt better.

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A/N: Maybe I was drunk writing this one shot story. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. <3

You can check my MASTERLIST for more.

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