#ON SUPES' SHOULDERS?!?

[greeneyed-thestral]

dan mora really said superbat rights this christmas

[andstuffsketches]

finally watched Reign of the Supermen

[cloama]

I know the internet is full of hyperbole but I can honestly say that[to me] every Superman production has missed the mark on the Clark/Superman difference until now. I can confidently say that because it’s irked me for years.

This might be the first production to actually really get into the weeds with some simple changes, use lighting, costuming, hair&makeup (peep the contour!)to convey that Clark and Supes look nothing alike. This is so cool to me!!!!! They finally did it.

Shout out to the departments. Shout out to whoever realized they needed way bigger (longer)eyeglass frames with a thick bridge that would alter the appearance of his nose making him unclockable. Whoever you are, I love this work. I love how the base of the cape on the shoulders and the collar work together. It gets the job done but also looks like it was comfortable to wear during hours of shooting. I love that supes has a bit of contouring in the makeup differing from Clark. Shout out to whoever decided to make Clark’s suits oversized and flimsy! It accurately demonstrates Clark’s attempt to look like a little fish in a big pond. He’s not just like that; everything is a choice with him.

Shout out to Peter King and Lindsay McCallister on the hair design/hair story. They did their big one. Clark’s hair is such a big change(so fluffy and undressed!) and accurately shows how someone would manipulate their curly hair to change their appearance. Superman’s hair really works. Honey, that hair is dressed! It is reminiscent enough to please fans but different enough to feel fresh. I like that it’s rounded on top instead of square.

Also I’ve never seen this actor before in my life but he is embodying my man in the trailer so that is also exciting. I don’t even care if the movie is good. I’m a bit over hero movies but I love me some Supes. Everyone seems to really be invested in the visuals of this project. The commitment to color is commendable after years of dark grey low lit mess. Anyway…

I love new faces. I love movies! I love departments! I love unions! I hate David Zaslav!

[stealingyourbones]

The turnout for the Batfamily post was incredible so here we go for a Superman Edition!

Write below a Superman meets Danny Fenton story but choose the wildest relationship that you can think of that isn’t adoption, romantic relationship, or clone hate

For instance:

- Clark casually using X-Ray vision while searching for a bomb a villain planted and noticing that one of the random civilians he scanned has absolutely zero organs. While x-rayed he just looks like green goo. Supes goes out of his way to chat with the new meta.

- Wonder Woman introduces a new hero to the Justice League: Superman startles because the new member is his Clark Kent’s noisy as hell upstairs neighbor.

- Danny is a Janitor at the Justice League Museum. Superman accidentally dropped his key to the Fortress of Solitude that is made from a dwarf star and weighs half a million pounds. Superman gets a tap on his shoulder,

“Hi! Sorry I think you dropped this.”

Kal-El turns to see a civilian holding the key he made specifically so no one could lift and break into the fortress.

- Danny works at the corner store next to the Daily Planet and Clark is one of his favorite customers. Clark managed to walk in mid robbery; Danny in the process of crumpling the robbers gun into a ball as the would be theif is crying lying against a wall with zip ties holding his hands behind his back.

[zepskies]

Wanderlust

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: Your wandering hands are keeping Ben up at night.

AN: My nightly daydreams led me to Soldier Boy this time. 😂

I was imagining the Break Me Down-verse for this one (shortly after Checkerboard), but it can also be general Soldier Boy x Reader.

Word Count: 650

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Fluff, innuendo, Sleepy Ben, implied smut.

You traced down his back with light, trailing fingers.

Lying next to him in bed, with scraps of moonlight filtering through the closed blinds in the window as your only guide, your mind was still drifting even though you should’ve been sleeping.

You couldn’t help yourself.  

You drew invisible patterns across his bare skin. Ben was warm, always warm, even though the AC was making the room almost frigid. You knew it was the ever-present radiator in his chest that made him your own personal heater.

You propped your head up better with an elbow on your pillow as you laid on your side. You then let your hand drift over every dip of muscle between his shoulders, every small freckle you knew just from memory, then down and down his spine.

You flirted with the idea of inching down the sheets, where his bare ass would greet you. From there, you supposed you'd decide what wandering direction your hand took next.

“If you don’t go to sleep,” his deep voice rumbled, “I’m gonna wake up and fuck you again.”

You bit your lip against a giggle, but you didn’t quite succeed.

“It sounds like you’re already awake,” you remarked.

Ben grumbled incoherently in response. He was tired, you knew. He’d just come back from a week-long mission with Butcher and Co. for Supe Affairs. Hence the long night you two spent catching up.

If you were honest, you were still tingling between your legs. Your thighs and ass were a little sore too. Likely they’d be sporting a few fingerprints tomorrow.

You didn't mind it so much though. You two now had a safe word for that kind of thing.

You smirked, sifting your fingers through his hair. It was getting long again. Maybe you’d trim it for him tomorrow, since you both had the weekend off.  

Your hand meandered down the back of his neck, just to begin dragging your nails up and down the slope of his back.

“What does that feel like to you?” you asked curiously. You often wondered how much his invulnerability affected the way he felt things, especially the way you touched him.

“Like a tease,” he muttered.

You applied some more pressure with your nails. Not the way you’d scored his back about an hour ago, when he’d had his sinful mouth all over your body, but enough to be more than a tease. Enough that it would’ve left an angry, red trail on your own “fragile” human skin.

Still, you weren’t able to leave any marks on him. Just a faint whiteness of pressure against his skin that soon returned to normal when you moved your hand away.

“How about that?” you asked.

“Like you’re playing with fucking fire,” Ben said, though you heard the smirk in his voice. “Go to sleep.”

You smiled too.

“We'll pick this up in the morning,” he made sure to add, though he was already halfway back to slumber, from the sound of it.

“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, laughing lightly. You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss against his shoulder. “G’night, babe.”

“Mhmm,” he responded.

He groaned deep in his throat and turned over onto his back. Your smile remained as your body tensed in anticipation, but all he did was slide an arm under your waist and curl you towards him, trapping you against his chest. His hand splayed against your lower back, heavy and warm.

His lips brushed your hair away from your forehead and lingered there. He closed his eyes and let out a deep exhale. You did the same, relaxing against him. Your hand came to rest against the steady thrum of his heart.

Moments like this with him still managed to surprise you…but admittedly, less and less the longer you lived and shared together.

A girl could get used to it though.

AN: Lol should she have pressed her luck? Let me know what you think of this one! 😉💚

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Next we have a little hurt/comfort drabble, A Simple Touch:

Summary: Annie still has reservations about Ben, and you dating him for that matter…until she sees it.

▶️ Next Story: A Simple Touch

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

Including the BMD tag list on this, since that's what my heart was imagining. 😂

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @vavafaure1994 @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

[ddejavvu]

mean!Logan making fun of you for being so weak and not being able to go round after round like he can

sir i would become a supe just for that ability

Sit Pretty - Logan Howlett x Reader

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. mean!logan, slight degradation, power imbalance

Exhaustion clings tightly to your bones- almost as tightly as Logan presses your body to his. His strength is unfailing, but yours is not. You're weaker than him, cursed with bones unenforced by adamantium and a lack of healing superpowers. Both of those things combined mean that Logan far outperforms you in the bedroom on stamina alone, and it's the reason he's fucking himself into your cunt for a fourth orgasm. You're spent- completely limp in his grasp, but still he persists.

"Come on," He chuckles, voice only slightly breathy as he pants, "You're tapping out now, honey?"

"I can't," You whine, tired and spent, "I- I can't cum again. Just- just use me, I- I can't."

"Sure you can," Logan hums encouragingly, "Come on, 'poor little pussy isn't done with me yet."

You're sure it offers very little resistance to Logan's thrusts now- you'd been aching with unused tightness before your first orgasm, but now that you're accommodated to his rather impressive length, you're looser and easier to fuck into. He snarls at that, ducking down to press heavy kisses to the dewy skin of your shoulder, "Come on, sweetheart, don't quit yet. We just got you all nice and opened up. She's beggin' for me now. You feel that? You're sucking me in, honey."

All you're able to moan is 'Logan', over and over again, hands grasping feebly at his biceps as his muscles flex, tense and springy as if he's only just started.

"Just use me," You beg, "Please- please Logan, I can't- I just- I want to lay here."

"Oh, alright," He scoffs, fondness mixed with condescension in his gruff voice, "Just sit pretty then, sweetheart. 'Forgot you're not big and strong like me. Can't keep up with me, can you? That's okay." He hums, dragging his nose up from your shoulder to your cheek, digging his teeth briefly into the pudge of your face before kissing the sting away, "Just sit there and take it, honey, I'll fuck 'ya hard enough for the both of us."

[witherby]

If the last fic takes place before the Batfam knew about Conners existence, I just wanna see Mouse explain to them that a Superman cosplayer saved them lol

I love that. "Yeah some cosplayer saved my life. 10/10 would let him do it again."

Littlest Wayne: Information Gathering

Masterlist is Here!

"You and Superman need to come straight to the Cave when you return to Earth."

"I miss you, too, babe," Hal smirks, gliding just above the ground on a planet he and Clark are guarding for a major diplomatic conference. "Tryna get the debrief out of the way so we can get me out of by boxer briefs right after?"

"Mouse was in a hostage situation in Metropolis today that was too overcast for them to get out of."

Hal's good mood plummets. He almost shouts for Clark to get his ass over to him so they can immediately head back.

"Are they —"

"Alive, and relatively unharmed considering the severity of the event."

"What does relatively mean in this context, B?" Hal snaps. "Relatively unharmed by vigilante standards or by civilian standards? Are they in the hospital?"

"Some bad bruising to the temple and a low-grade burn on the right arm. They're safe."

Bruce's calm tone and steady cadence helps relax Hal. His shoulders un-tense and he lets out a sigh.

"Alright. But there's more to it, otherwise you wouldn't have contacted me."

Bruce hums in that quiet way he does when he's pleased by Hal's deductive reasoning. It makes him smile and miss him that much more, and he's only been gone two days.

"They were rescued by a new Meta. Called himself Superman."

"Look at you, crackin' jokes on an official League line. Never thought I'd see the day!"

"..."

"You're not joking. There's a second Superman flying around?"

"A Superboy, by the looks of it. He's the real deal — the flight, the strength, and the suit all points to another Kryptonian. This will make three, after Supergirl."

Hal furrows his brow. He lets his feet hit the ground and starts to pace, kicking up little bits of purple dirt. This planet is ridiculously fragile. It's part of the reason he and Clark are protecting it during these peace talks.

"Is it a baby? Don't remember either Kara or Lois looking pregnant."

"A teenager. Around Mouse's age, by the looks of him, and very inexperienced from what scattered footage I can find of the event."

"Which makes no sense. There's something up if he's a teen but still can't use his powers right. Supes told us he could hone his almost perfectly before he was old enough to drive a car. A new scheme by Luthor or Waller, maybe?"

"I knew I married you for a reason."

"Keep praising me like that and there won't be time for a debrief when I get home."

Bruce hums again. His considering sound. The Green Lantern suit feels very constricting, all of a sudden.

"You don't need to rush your mission to get back. There is one more thing you need to know prior to return, however."

"I'm all ears."

"Mouse described the Superboy as... handsome."

Hal falls to his hands and knees, kicking up a small cloud of purple dust.

"No, no, nooo! They're just a baby!"

"Well. They're seventeen."

"Well I say they're too young for romance! Yesterday they were afraid of Cooties!!"

"Time flies. It's inevitable."

"We're gonna wrap these peace talks up tonight."

Bruce sounds amused on the other end of the line, like he hasn't just crushed Hal's entire world three sentences ago.

"You aren't due back for another week."

"We're wrapping it up tonight!"

"Okay. Agent A will know to set your plate tomorrow."

"Can he make some of those mini quiches? I'm gonna need comfort food to get over this."

"I'll pass the request along."

"And can you wear the see-through robe you were given after you shot that Dior commercial?"

"...if you slick back your hair, yes."

Hal grins. He's still not happy about his youngest kid growing up so fast, but this is a nice consolation prize.

--

True to his word, Hal and Clark get the peace talks concluded by nightfall and head back to Earth. Clark is given the general run-down of what happened on the way, and his curiosity and insistence on getting answers lets Hal know it'll be a long night. He's gonna slick his hair back anyway. He misses his husband, dammit.

You sit at the meeting table in the Bat Cave, feet propped on top exactly like Jason does it, with your hands stuffed in the pockets of your hoodie. You stare groggily at Hal and Clark as they fly in from their trip, shuffling to your feet to give them both sleepy hugs.

"Welcome back," you yawn. "Dad said you have questions?"

"Hey, Mousey," Hal grins, ruffling your hair. You grumble and wave his hand away, then grumble louder when Clark does the exact same thing. "Just got some follow-up questions about the field trip, then we'll let you get back to bed."

You go back to your seat and slump into it, rubbing your eyes. "Kay."

"Did the boy you met tell you his name?" Clark asks, sitting to your right. There's a dossier sitting on the table that he flips open, glancing over the information Bruce collected with Tim's help. He frowns at a still image pulled from his interview on TV.

"Just called himself Superman," you explain. "He had a version of your suit on. It looked legit. I'm guessing he's not your son, based on the way you're looking at the file."

"He is not. Did he seem to be acting maliciously or under someone's control? Was he flesh and blood or robotic?" Clark asks. "Did he hurt anyone? Did he try to hurt you?"

"No," you say, "he was warm. He's flesh and blood and definitely saved us from that fire. In fact he seemed...uh.."

You wave your hand around vaguely and pick over the best way to phrase this.

"Okay! There's a boy at school named Rory. He transferred to Gotham Academy this year after being homeschooled."

"Mousey," Hal speaks up, "I know you're tired, but we kinda gotta stay on track —"

"I am!" You insist. "I am, I swear. Look, it was obvious Rory was homeschooled because he didn't know how to, like, socialize properly? He asked a lot of questions that feel like common-sense if you're used to going to public schools and talking to people outside your family. The Superman cosplayer kind of acted like that."

"Cosplayer?" Clark mouths at Hal, who waves him off.

"So you think he's never been out there doing any hero stuff before that day?"

You shrug and nod. "I think he's never been out at all before that day. He reminded me a lot of Rory on his first day of school."

"But he didn't hurt you?" Hal asks.

"I promise, he didn't. He spoke to me like twice and then brought me to the EMTs to get looked at. Then Jason showed up and brought me home after making sure the school knew I wouldn't be taking the bus back from Metropolis."

"Last question," Clark promises, recapturing your attention. "Can you find him right now? With your shadows?"

"Uh, I can try."

Your gaze becomes a little distant. The shadows cast from one of the overhead lights shifts and dissolves into the ground, zipping out of the cave. Hal and Clark wait silently as you work, feeling for the presence of the boy that saved you just a day before.

"... M e t r o p o l i s..." You mutter, voice taking on that faint, echoing quality it does whenever you speak through the darkness. "...A r o o m...c o n c i o u s...k n o w s I s e e..."

"Come back, Mouse," Hal says, urgent. You take a moment to get your bearings, yawning and rubbing your face. "He knows you used your power to find him?"

You nod. "He saw my shadow move in the corner of his room. Guys, it's so bare and dark. He's got a cot, an alarm clock, and one blanket in there. It looks like some room you'd stick a sick person in to quarantine them."

"Where in Metropolis is he? That doesn't sound like the Solitary Confinement cells in the prison."

"It's not a jail. It looked like a lab, I think?"

"Lex Luthor," Hal and Clark state at the same time. Clark stands up, drawing you into another gentle hug, then heads for the exit.

"Thank you for your help, Mouse! Sleep well."

"Bye, uncle Clark. Have a good night," you call after him. When Hal stands, you rise with him, stretching. "Can I go to bed, now?"

"Yeah, hon," Hal nods, pressing his hand to your back and guiding you to the stairs. "We'll head up together. I'll tell your dad what we learned when he comes back from patrol."

"Kay," you mumble, climbing the steps with another wide yawn. "M'sleeping in tomorrow. Being up at two am sucks."

Hal chuckles. "Yeah, it does. We'll put your breakfast in some Tupperware for when you get up, then."

Once the two of you climb through the grandfather clock and reenter the manor proper, you give Hal one more goodnight hug, then excuse yourself to go to bed. Your eyes are closed as you shuffle into your room and nudge the door closed behind you, navigating the space from memory. It's not until you start climbing back into bed that you feel a dip in it that shouldn't be there.

The dip of another person's weight.

You snap your eyes open and you inhale to scream. A hand presses itself to your mouth, and you find yourself staring at those brilliant blues from yesterday.

"Waitwaitwait-" the boy gasps, whisper-shouting. "Please!!"

You push his hand off and he lifts them both up in placation, floating off the bed and several feet away from you.

"What do you want!?" You whisper-yell back. "Why are you in my room!? That's creepy!"

He grimaces, knees curling towards his chest. In the low light, you can see color painting his cheeks.

"I wanted to come see you," he murmurs.

"Why?"

"I don't know your name."

You're completely flummoxed. You shake your head and shrug.

"Do you need to?" You ask.

The boy floats a little closer, his gaze intense. He looks at you like...he looks at you like you're the most important thing in the world right now. It makes your stomach swoop.

"Yes," he says, completely sincere. "I'm...I can't...there's this..."

His brow furrows. He's exceptionally easy to read, like he's never known how to be anything except fully, authentically himself. It's a welcome change in a family of vigilante detectives with emotional intimacy issues. It'll help you know if he's trying to deceive you, too.

Quietly, you give him your name. His eyes snap to yours and he repeats it, lips shaping the vowels and consonants with an unusual reverence. You can feel your own face getting a little warm.

"I'm...Conner," the boy says. His eyes dart to your mouth. You oblige.

"Hi, Conner," you mutter. His whole body un-tenses, looking like a puppet with his strings cut as he almost dangles in the air.

"Can I —" Conner cuts himself off. He drifts closer to you. You shift back, feeling cornered from where you kneel in your bed. "Ah. I wanted... I don't know how to say..."

Exhausted and confused, you gesture at him to hurry it up a little. You know you should probably alert someone that the new Meta boy is literally floating four feet away from you right now, but you know he isn't here to cause harm.

"It's late," you speak up. "Can you try a little harder to get the point across so I can sleep?"

"Yes," Conner says quickly, obediently. "Call for me."

You blink heavily. Your mind feels like sludge. "Elaborate."

"When you need something," he specifies. "If you're in danger, or lonely, or just...or just want to. Please. Call for me and I'll come to you."

"Why?" You yawn. It's getting harder to stay conscious. You let your body fall over until you collide with the pillows, eyes slipping closed. "Why me?"

Conner floats above you, reaching down to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with more reverence than is appropriate for having barely met. His fingers brush against the bruise on your temple, featherlight.

"Because it's you," he says, as your consciousness fades. "Something in my heart is yours... I hope that's okay."

You hum, managing a barely discernible "kay," in your last seconds of awareness before sleep pulls you under.

In your subconscious mind, you register warmth wrap around you for a moment, and then you're alone with nothing but a cracked window as evidence anyone had ever been there.

[clockwayswrites]

5 Times the JL Learned Batman was Married and the 1 Time They Met the Spouse.

One. Two. Three.

“I am sure that it is clear to everyone that the mission was almost a complete disaster.”

“Almost?” Superman asked with a smidgen of a smile.

Hal thought it was brave and very, very stupid of Superman to ask that while Batman was glaring at all of them like he’d squish them if they were just small enough for him to step. And if it wouldn't get his boots too dirty.

Batman’s glare narrowed to focus on Superman alone. “We’re alive. Barely.”

“Batman—”

“No,” Batman shut down Supes’ argument with a barked word. “No. While you might be unconcerned, not all of us are indestructible, Superman.”

That finally made Superman lose any amusement that he had and he look away from Batman, properly cowled. Hal felt a little sorry for the guy, but also Supes deserved that. Not all of them were naturally bullet proof and Batman didn’t even have any powers (it seemed).

“Everyone write up a report: what went wrong, what little went right, and what we should do differently. We will discuss it next week. Expect there to be more training sessions scheduled soon,” Batman ordered.

And then he turned and left with an overly dramatic flare of his cape.

“What?” Hal asked.

“He’s just… leaving?” Superman asked. He sounded a little lost.

Batman didn’t just leave when there was work to be done.

Diana rested a hand on big blue’s shoulder. “I believe you rather overstepped, my friend.”

Oh he was more hurt than any of them knew.

Hal jogged after the retreating form. “Hey, hey Spooky, wait a sec!”

Batman’s shadowed form almost hunched forward on itself as he stopped but didn’t turn around.

“What?”

“Just…” Some of Hal’s bravado left him now that he was actually having to ask; luckily Hal had bravado in spades. “I wanted to make sure you were too badly hurt. You took some hard hits out there and like you said, not all of us are bullet proof.”

Hal wasn’t sure if Batman would answer. More, Hal wasn’t sure if Batman would answer him of all people. They had found more of an understanding with each other lately: Hal let Batman do the planning and Batman trusted Hal (a little) to break the plan in the field, but they still clashed a lot.

Then Batman let out a weary sounding huff of air. “There is nothing major. Everything will heal, though I could use plenty of ice and a good whiskey.”

Hal let himself chuckle at that. “Man, I feel that. A good whiskey, or lots of bad beer, sounds good. I just wanted to make sure. You’re rushing out of here like there’s a fire on your ass. Would hate for you to be bleeding out or something.”

Another long pause that Hal tried not to fidget through.

“It’s late. I would like to get home to enjoy my anniversary while there is still any of it left.”

“Your— oh, shit, yeah man, get out of here!” Hal said, waving Batman away.

What the hell, Hal wondered as he watched Batman sweep away for a second time, Spooky was married?

[fake-bleach]

HOTEL ROOM | SOLDIER BOY x READER

"babysitting" a nearing hundred year old supe wasn't your ideal day, nor was it ever on your bucket list. but, maybe it'll be worthwhile.

word count: 7k

WARNINGS/DISCLAIMERS: (18+ only!) fem!reader, slight slow burn but very much worth it, porn w/ somewhat much plot & angst/fluff, praise/degrading, use of pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart, etc), drugs i.e. snorting shit (oops, but what else did u expect w/ him..), handjob, piv, unprotected gradual rough sex, tiny bit of hair pulling, coming inside, i thinkk that might be it? happy ending :p another disclaimer: soldier boy's def much softer/vulnerable here cus i feel like reader can change him :) (i'm delusional) :) hope u enjoy! <33

ao3 link! | my masterlist

it’s not like you wanted to babysit. 

and by babysit, i mean watching a 100 year old supe that was still very much alive and well. did i also mention that he was an asshole?

probably not, but you should know that too.

“butcher! no fucking way, there's no fucking way i’m doing this shit!”

you whispered loudly in the british man’s face, trying to make sure that supe couldn’t hear you. but, god, what could that man not do?

butcher rolled his eyes at you, that constant, smug smirk plastered on his face as he shook his head. “oh, c’mon love. you’ll be fine. all he’ll do is watch the telly, snort some shit, and talk ya’ ear off,” he laughed as he stared at your annoyed expression, “i need you here, anyway. can’t have anything happen to you, you got that?”

you turned away from him for a moment, crossing your arms and glancing at the infamous man sat on the hotel bed. you bit the inside of your cheek, sighing out as your head hung low, staring at the floor. for once, you just wanted butcher to take you seriously. to bring you along for the important shit, not this.

but, what else could you do?

you moved to face him again, letting out a noise of disapproval, but your words showing otherwise. “fine, fine, okay. just this one fucking time, okay? you owe me.” you spoke loudly now, your irritation extremely evident.

“oh, come on, doll. am i really that bad?”

soldier boy’s ben’s voice made you flinch; his booming voice sending a rush throughout your body. one part of you was afraid, and the other annoyed. you whipped your head to look at him, his large frame stood in front of you now. he was more than just large; he was powerful.. intimidating. and you’d be lying to yourself if he wasn’t at least a.. little attractive to you. but, you couldn’t let that affect you.

he also had an unbearable ego that practically everyone around him could sense, his arrogant smile directed towards you nearly making your blood boil. 

“considering how much of a conceited asshole you are, i’d say yes,” you bit back at him, returning a condescending grin in response.

ben whistled then, his smile never faltering as he took in your powerful presence and words. “phew! she’s a feisty one, yeah? she yours or is she for the taking?” he teased butcher as a low laugh erupted from him, making you groan. to your surprise, though, his question sounded genuine.

“oh, fuck you! i’m not anyone’s!” you let out, tightening your crossed arms as your eyes moved to butcher. he all but laughed, pursing his lips as he shook his head at ben, pausing for a moment. “oi, play nice you two. can’t be coming back to this room in shambles..” his eyes flickered between you and ben, licking his lips, “but, to answer your question; no, she ain’t, but good luck tryin’, mate. i tried it myself.”

you punched butcher’s shoulder at that, scoffing. “don’t encourage him, you asshole.”

butcher laughed, raising his hands in surrender and giving you an almost apologetic look as he backed up, starting to walk towards the hotel room door. “alright, bye now, love. and you–” he pointed towards ben, his face hardening for a second, “behave, will ya?”

you watched him open the door, shutting it behind him as dread filled your every being. you turned to ben again, his eyes already fixed on you with that same smirk.

“oh yeah, i’ll definitely behave.”

only a few hours in, and you already feel like you’re going insane.

a ton of snarky remarks and about a million snorts of cocaine later, you’re just fighting the throbbing headache that’s building up. hell, anyone would feel the same in your position.

ben was sitting at the small table, you at the end of the bed right next to it, surrounded by fast food and pills. using the end of his knife, he was crushing the small tablets on the table, turning them into fine, white powder. it made you cringe, to say the least.

you watched him as he lined it up, sliding his nose through it eagerly as he sniffed, snorting the line completely. he let out a groan of satisfaction, the white powder stuck on his skin as the high he so desperately craved filled his body.

you let out a quiet chuckle to yourself, shaking your head. for one of the greatest supes in the history of mankind, he was certainly a treasure.

not.

“what are you laughin’ at, huh?” ben looks at you, his face firm as he poses the question. your lips flip, pursing, then frowning slightly as you shake your head. “oh, nothing, nothing. you just.. love that shit, don’t you?” you accuse, a small chuckle escaping your lips again.

his face shifts, a faint smile presented. “what? you want some, is that it?”

“oh no, god no. don’t want any coke of yours, no thank you.” you turn him down instantly, almost as if you couldn’t dream of it.

he laughs now, the deep gravel in it making you shudder slightly. “s’not cocaine, sweetheart. something like it, yeah, but not coke,” he informs you, watching intently as you return your attention to him, interest piquing. you didn’t know much about these kinds of drugs, surprisingly enough considering the people you surrounded yourself with, but you weren’t completely innocent.

he takes notice of your sudden curiosity; your eyes widening just a tad bit more than usual. the way your body language shifts. he notices it all.

cocking his head slightly, he lets out a small chuckle again. “you ever done drugs before, sweetheart?” he asks sincerely, wanting to know. you deny, shaking your head, “no, i mean– i’ve smoked weed maybe once, but i don’t know– never had a reason to do it again, i guess.”

he raises an eyebrow at that, leaning back against the chair he was sat in and crosses his arms. “that so? i’m shocked,” he hums, biting the inside of his cheek at he stares at you, “powerhouse like you, i woulda’ expected you to do allll that crazy shit.”

you snort, looking at him in disbelief. “you got the wrong idea of me then, soldier boy.” you tell him, emphasizing his name. boost his ego a bit more for the fun of it, y’know?

he snickers, staring at you as if you were some puzzle he needed to solve. “do i?” he pushes, leaning a bit forward, “i don’t think i do.”

you roll your eyes at him. “and why’s that?” 

he breathes out, grinning even wider. “sweetheart, you’ve got it written all over you.”

your eyebrows furrow at him, confused. the fuck did he mean by that?

before you could question him, he beats you to it, laying it on you.

“i mean, your attitude with butcher earlier? i don’t know about you, but that don’t sound like someone who takes shit.” he scoffs, his eyes locked on you as he pauses.

“...and you’re not taking any of mine, are you?”

you breathe out through your nose, licking your drying lips and taking in his words. “no, no i guess i’m not,” you admit, appreciating the slight bit of generosity from him, “but, what’s that gotta do with me and your drugs?” you laugh, unable to connect the two.

ben shakes his head, uncrossing his arms and moving his forearm on top of the table, leaning on it. “you’re a curious one, aren’t you? that’s why you didn’t wanna stay with me, right? y’wanted to go out there, save the fuckin’ world, huh?” he inquires, giving you the perfect opportunity to tease him instead of taking him seriously.

“well, no. i actually didn’t wanna stay with you because you’re an–”

“stop being a fuckin’ nag and answer the question.”

his voice booms in your ears, the direct intimidation from him working on you like a charm. you swallow, eyes shifting to look at the table for a moment before returning to him. 

“fine, whatever, i guess you’re right, yeah, i’m.. curious. but, fuck..” you lick your bottom lip, shaking your head as you stare out in front of you, “you try being part of this shit for years, and not being given any opportunity to..” you trail off, huffing.

“to be a hero?” ben questions.

you turn to him now, sad eyes staring into his own. “to be a hero.”

he shakes his head, wiping his mouth and nose as he inhales sharply. “you don’t want that life, kid. trust me.”

your jaw falls open a bit at him, your voice rising, “what the hell do you know about what i want? you don’t know me.”

he huffs, his hand pressing into his knee as leverage as his body leans in towards you, scoffing.

“the fuck did i go through? huh? i was asleep for decades, sweetheart. much before that, i was tortured and experimented on and treated like a piece of fucking meat. an animal.” you stare at him sadly, your demeanor falling as he looks at you with hardened eyes.

“being a fuckin’ hero..” he shakes his head, laughing as his head lowers to look down at his lap, “look where the fuck that got me.” he mutters out, his upper lip twitching as he breathes heavily.

silence fills the room between you two as the faint background noise from the television whirs. you didn’t know what to say. you just knew that maybe.. you were wrong about soldier boy– ben.

he was avoiding your gaze, his chest rising and falling in an attempt to calm himself down. you swallow, pursing your lips. “ben.. i’m sorry you went through that, i really am,” you began, causing him to lift his head at you, “but.. that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve helped people. you’ve saved people. and, yeah, maybe sometimes you weren’t the good guy, but.. you’ve done more than what a lot of people would.”

he looks at you with doe eyes, taking in your little speech. he nods, and it’s almost as if he can’t possibly believe you, but he does. he decides to trust you as your words give him the slightest bit of hope in his heart. an emotion he hasn’t felt all these years.

he sniffs suddenly, clearing his throat and shaking his head as if he were shaking himself out of it. “yeah, well, maybe you’re right. still wouldn’t want yo–” he pauses, cutting himself off, “uh, y’know, going through that.”

you give him a small smile, understanding him completely. it was hard for him to be vulnerable; you knew that now. but, you appreciated his efforts nonetheless. it made you see him.. differently. the way he spoke to you about his experiences.. you wondered if there truly was a good man underneath that harsh persona.

“well, thank you.. soldier boy.”

“oh, stop with that shit. ben.”

you smile. “ben.”

“alright, love. m’ sorry, i promise i’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

you groan into the phone held against your ear, picking up the words of the same british man on the other end of the line. god, i’m never letting him off the hook, you thought to yourself. 

“okay, yeah, whatever.”

“don’t stay mad at me–”

you cut him off, “bye, butcher.”

“bye, love.”

you hear him end the phone call, the sound making you throw your phone down on the bed irritatedly. “the fuck happened?” ben asks you as he sits up on the bed, putting the remote down from surfing through channels with you for hours now. it was nighttime before you knew it, and you spent most of the day talking to ben here and there, as well as watching random shows and movies. certain topics were definitely touchy, but you were starting to get to know him more, and him with you.

you huff, walking over to the empty side of the bed to sit down next to him, crossing your arms. “we gotta stay here for the night. butcher n’ hughie are being held up with some.. shit, and don’t want us leaving without them.”

he lets out a chuckle towards your frustration. “don’t see a problem with that.”

you roll your eyes, turning to face him. “of course you don’t, you’re like– a million years old. i’m bored!” you whine, groaning. you don’t mean to act immature or fussy, but fuck, you were younger than him and needed other kinds of entertainment to survive (dramatically put). shitty television just wasn’t doing it for you.

he scoffs, “oh, fuck you. i can be plenty of fun, doll.”

“oh, yeah? prove it.” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

he smirks at you then, leaning in a bit closer as his face grows snarky. “you want me to show you fun?” he teases.

you groan, grimacing, “ugh, grossss..” you draw out, swallowing sharply as you turn away.

what you didn’t want to do was recognize the butterflies you felt at the thought. or the way your heart skipped a beat at him growing closer towards you. fuck, no.

he snickers, eyes still fixed on you completely. “oh, c’mon, honey. y’know i’m a great fuck. n’ besides.. it’s been awhile..” he teases you further, and he makes it sound so sleazy that it feels like a joke; fuck, maybe he really was just trying to rile you up.

you shake your head though, playing along. “nice try, ben. gonna have to try harder than that, though.” you stand your ground, giving him a faux smile.

he raises his hands in surrender, shrugging his shoulders. “hey, i’ll fuckin’ work for it, baby, i’ll tell you that much.” he admits, grinning at you.

you try your hardest to keep your composure, fighting the heat growing in your face, especially with that new nickname he gives you. a weak spot.

fuck. this was gonna be much harder than you thought.

you’re finishing the leftover fries that ben requested earlier, snagging them from his side as you laid next to him on the bed; cold and soggy, and definitely not appetizing, but you’re working with what you’ve got. you feel the bed shift before looking up at ben, his eyes on you as he moves.

“so, other ideas of fun..” ben trails, standing up from the bed and walking towards the table.

“i’m listening..” you curiously give in.

he grabs his knife, pouring out the remainder of his pills, and starts to crush them, noticing the way his eyes look up at you, eyebrows raised.

“you do a line with me. just one–” he suggests, his attention focused to see how you’ll react. “and you can loosen up for fuckin’ once.”

you grimace at his suggestion, denying him immediately. “no, ben, i don’t.. i don’t know. this isn’t my kind of thing, you know that..” you speak, evidently unsure of the act. come on, snorting some random, crushed up pills? didn’t sound like much fun to you.

he puts the knife down, turning his entire body to fully face you now. “hey, you said you were curious, didn’t you?” he raises an eyebrow, “doesn’t hurt to try it once. besides.. you can trust me, can’t you?” he teases, a sly smile on his face.

you huff, “yeah, sure. sure i can.” you joke at him, sarcasm filling your voice entirely. your face drops though, seriously contemplating his inquiry. “okay, seriously, though. it won’t fuck me up.. completely, right?”

he laughs at your question, his low voice rumbling. “not unless you take more than you can handle, baby.” he tells you, starting to crush the pills again. “i’m right here, though. i’ll getcha’ through it. promise.”

you were shocked at how.. kind he was being with you. how utterly careful he was with you now. it was odd, to say the least. but, you liked this side of him. maybe that’s why you were starting to feel so comfortable with him now.

you think about it for a few seconds longer before ultimately coming to a decision. “i.. okay, okay. just once.” you agree, nervously standing up from the bed and approaching the table, pulling up another chair to sit next to him.

fuck it. what else did you have to lose?

sitting down, you watch carefully as he proceeds to crush up the pills, examining how fine the powder turned. ben uses the knife to separate it, forming some of it into a line that was a bit shorter than what you saw him repeatedly snort earlier. 

was he making sure he wasn’t giving you too much? maybe. you didn’t want to think of it too much.. his intentions. you couldn’t. 

you swallow tensely, eyes flickering from the table to his face as he finishes, his own setting themselves on you. he gives you a small smile; an almost encouraging kind, providing you with a bit of comfort.

he raises an eyebrow at you. “you ready?”

“uh,” you stammer out, biting your bottom lip, “what exactly.. is it, though? i mean, what’s it gonna do to me?” you ask warily, second thoughts arising in your head.

he sighs out as he attempts to think of what to say. “these here are bennies, as we call em’. or, well– what i call em’,” he lets out a small laugh, cocking his head, “they’re amphetamines. they’ll just.. give ya’ a bit more energy.. that euphoria people talk about,” he explains to you as thoroughly as he can, “shouldn’t last too long, n’ if anything, you can try to sleep it off, sweetheart. no harm, no foul.”

he watches your face as you absorb his answer, noticing your features relax with each second that passes. he grins even more, listening to you.

“okay.. okay, doesn’t sound.. too bad. let’s do it,” you quickly spur out, shaking yourself out of it. “fuck it.”

“atta girl.” he gleames, his hand lifting to rub your upper back gently for just a moment; a moment long enough to send chills down your spine. the first time he’s really made any physical contact with you, and you’re already a mess. 

fuck, why did that feel good? why did that sound good? it was a harmless gesture.

you need that high, and you need it now. maybe that was the only way you could get through this long ass night with him.

“okay. do i just.. sniff it, uh?” you ask him, letting out an embarrassed laugh as your lips turn upwards. he nods, his own lips curling. “don’t overthink it. you’ve seen me do it a hundred times now,” he tells you confidently, muttering out the last words, “y’know what to do, honey.”

you just nod, leaning your head forward and slowly putting your nose against the right side of the line. before you can allow yourself to back out, you slide your nose towards the left, snorting it completely. you lift your head up, an abrupt cough escaping your throat as your nose burns, your eyes rolling back before shutting tightly.

“oh, there you fucking go. there you go, baby, there you go..” ben softly praises you, his words almost echoing in your ears as your head thumps. his hand returns back to your skin as he rubs your back in circular motions, your breathing growing heavy as you feel the drug enter your system.

“oh, fuck, ben, what the fuck!” you let out, a laugh escaping your throat as your head grows hazy. you turn to him, his hand still rubbing your back, which was definitely helping, and you grin widely. “that was fucking crazy!” you all but yell, excitement getting the best of you. what a way to show your experience, huh?

he chuckles, shaking his head as he stares at you. “alright, don’t get ahead of yourself, peaches. barely gave you half of what i’d normally do,” ben tells you, teeth bare as his smile widens, “that’s enough shit for you, little lady. can’t be too much of a bad influence on ya’, can i? butcher would rip me a new one.. or he’d try, at least.”

you giggle at that, your composure slowly, but surely, fading. “oh ben, aren’t you supposed to be a big n’ bad supe?” you breathe out, “he’s just a man.. and you’re a.. superhero.. y’wouldn’t let him..” you murmur out, eyes dazed out as you look at the man in front of you. his scruffy beard.. his messy hair.. the details in his skin.. fuck.

was he always this pretty?

you giggle again, his hand slowly lowering to the midst of your back to rest there. he chuckles lowly; an action that makes your breath hitch. “oh, sweetheart.. you’re feeling it already, aren’t you? quicker than i thought..” he trails off, cocking his head, “you think i’m some big, bad supe? s’that it?” he teases, lips curling up as he breathes you in, inching just a tad bit closer. “think i wouldn’t let him get one in?” he whispers.

you shake your head, smile dropping as your face hardens. “no, no, i wouldn’t, nuh uh,” you deny, biting your lip as energy suddenly surges through you, your filter entirely out the window. “i’ve seen you, you know? i mean, who hasn’t? videos of.. the way you fight.. you’re strong..” you mutter, swallowing as you giggle again, “so strong.”

he laughs, his index and middle finger connecting to rub subtle circles on your skin, “have you now?” he asks almost matter-of-factly, “you did research on me, baby?”

your stomach drops a bit, butterflies storming your stomach at the nickname again. you stammer out, “no, no, not research– i mean– yeah, i.. searched you up, but i jus’ wanted to see who you were before i.. came here, but.. s’not like i.. put that much thought into it, i–” you spit out, an involuntary laugh erupting from you as your cheeks heat up from your confession. a lie that escapes straight through your teeth.

oh god. why the fuck were you saying all of this shit outloud? stop!

he shrugs, a sly frown swift on his lips. “don’t gotta make a fuss about it, honey. s’cute. real sweet of you..” he grins, the hand so glued onto your back sliding down sleekly, fingers gripping onto your hip now. you gasp softly at the sudden touch, his grasp on you pulling you just a bit closer to him. your chairs are right next to each other, hips nearly joined together now. he whispers out, his mouth close enough to catch your ear, “sweet girl like you.. i’m honored you think of me that way. wouldn’t have suspected it from how feisty you were earlier.”

you roll your eyes at him, avoiding the flutter in your core as the drug builds up inside of you, fighting it. “oh, come on. you probably used to get this shit all of the time.”

he breathes out, shaking his head. “not from people i want it from..” his jaw falls open as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, murmuring, “..not from you.”

your breath hitches in your throat, turning your head to look at him as your cheeks flush. you gulp, heartbeat quickening as you notice his gaze entirely locked on you. he was being serious. this wasn’t some kind of sick game of his.

you remain quiet, unsure how to respond. too nervous, too dazed to come up with some snarky remark you usually would; that you should bite back with. but, you don’t.

instead, ben’s fingers dance on your hip subtly, his other hand lifting up to caress your face; his thumb gliding against your cheek, trailing down to your bottom lip as his gaze that was once on your eyes fixes onto your mouth.. gorgeous as ever.

his thumb catches itself on your lip, pulling it down gently as he hums, satisfied. you gulp, shaking your head gently as you process what this was leading up to.

“ben.. we shouldn’t..” you whisper out, shutting your eyes for a moment as you pull away from him; just enough to have his hold off of your face. he was a fucking supe, for christ sake. you were human. and sooner or later, he’d be gone again; just like that. you couldn’t. no matter how much you so desperately craved it.

he lets out a disappointed noise, breathing out through his mouth, “why not, sweetheart?” he closes in on you again, lips near your ear as he hums, “don’t you like me, baby? don’t you want me? i like you.. n’ i sure as hell.. need you..” he sighs out, his hot breath hitting the sensitive skin on your neck, your body trembling at the feeling.

you groan softly at his words and the touch of his breath against your skin, shutting your eyes tightly. he huffs, pushing his nose softly against your neck, inhaling your scent and rapidly muttering out, “c’mon, baby, c’mon.. gonna take care of you, yeah? make you feel good, don’t y’want that?” he presses kisses on your neck, slowly trailing up to your cheek as his hands move to cup your face, quiet gasps escaping your lips. your eyes open up hazily, rolling to the back of your head as you lift your neck just enough to give him more room.

you don’t even think before you’re pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips, quietly moaning into it as your eyes flutter shut again; your disoriented mind taking over your body completely. he groans against your mouth, his soft lips becoming so harsh against yours, needy and having been deprived of this pleasure for so long.

he pulls away from the kiss for a moment, allowing the two of you to catch your breath as his large hand grips your face, the hold on it tight and rugged. he turns your head to the side, moving in to attack your neck once more with his lips, teeth grazing the skin as he grunts, his body closing in entirely.

it’s primal; instinctive and downright dirty the more he grows impatient. no longer gentle; not him, not now. he all but stands as he leans into you, his free hand moving from your back to your hips, wrapping his arm around you as he uses his super strength to lift you up effortlessly. you yelp as he picks you up, placing you directly on his lap as he settles himself back in his chair, your legs hung around his sides to the best of your ability.

“pretty fucking girl.. you stay right here..” he murmurs out, returning his kisses on you as if his seamless actions were nothing. his hands move to grip your hips tightly now, pushing you further into his lap as you involuntarily grind into him; his cock through those grey sweatpants of his beginning to harden.

“b-ben,” you stammer out, pants heavy as you let him touch you, feel you just how he wants, and you, taking him as you please. your hips and their movements quicken slowly, gradually building up and up the more your cunt throbs against his clothed skin; the way his strong hands keep you moving for him without a second to waste.

your cloudy mind from the drug intervenes with your control, unable to fully grasp your feelings or words that slip from your mind, keeping you completely vulnerable to the man below you. 

god, did that annoy you. 

but, fuck, did it feel so good.

“need you to fuck me, please, ben, please..” you whine out, grinding your core against his hardened cock faster, harder, your impatience getting the best of you. he laughs against your skin, a small moan seeping out of it as he gently bites your neck. “so needy, aren’t you, baby? gonna give you what you want, don’t you worry..”

the hands on your hips find themselves lowering, landing on your ass instantly as ben squeezes, groaning out at the feeling of your flush skin beneath his fingertips. he takes control of you easily, moving your body along his thighs and digging your cunt where he needs it the most. 

the constant friction makes you wetter with each push of his hands, his cock imprinting against his sweatpants with a perfect outline, your panties growing soaked at the sensation of it. an incoherent string of noises falls out of your lips, the gasps and moans sounding like porn to ben’s ears. a satisfied laugh from him shakes you to your core, that deep rumble multiplying your arousal.

you take matters into your own hands, fingers pushing down against his wrists to get him to loosen his grip on you, which he does. you scoot yourself back to disconnect your body from his abdomen, hips stilling on his thighs now, giving you an enticing view of the strain in his pants.

“i said..” you breathe out, mouth falling open as you look into his eyes, lust pouring out of them, “i need you to fuck me,” you emphasize, your fingers moving to palm his bulging cock through his sweats, “so, fuck me.”

you can’t be bothered anymore. you’re past waiting.

your hands slowly find a rhythm as you maintain eye contact with him, ben immediately reacting with a low moan as his hips thrust needily, “fuck, baby..” he hisses out as your fingers slip to the waistband of his sweats, your hand reaching beneath the layer. to your surprise, and delight; no underwear.

god, he was a fucking whore. you loved it. 

“jesus christ, ben,” you let out a laugh as you wrap your fingers around his cock, putting just enough pressure on it, and it makes him twitch against your touch. it elicits a throaty whine from his lips that has you clenching around nothing, squeezing him tighter, tighter. “jus’ take what you want, sweetheart, need you ‘round me, c’mon, ” ben spurs out rapidly, his words the least coherent they’ve been; his usual, old hollywood-esque diction in his voice gone. 

soldier boy, begging you with your hands on his cock and your ass in his lap? 

you couldn’t have possibly dreamt of this moment till now.

you try to hold yourself back, but the little amount of sobriety inside of you’s hardly strong enough to help you achieve that. no more waiting. not now.

“you’re lucky i’m impatient,” you breathe out, and before ben can react, you’re slipping his cock out of his sweats, the heavy weight of him on your hand sending you into a damn near spiral as he twitches against your fingers again, pre-cum practically leaking out of the tip.

you let go of him though, fingers desperately moving to the waistband of your loose sweats to slip them off. ben’s helping you immediately, lifting your hip for you with one hand, and the other hurriedly pushing them down, nearly ripping them off from the pace and force; off, off, off, he all but mutters out with eager noises.

“stupid fuckin’.. fuck, g’off–” ben grumbles until they’re successfully on the floor, and he sighs out in satisfaction, “no more fuckin’ waiting, n’more teasing.”

you nod hurriedly at him, bare legs exposed for him now as his fingers dig into your thighs, taking no second to waste to slide to the hem of your panties, fingers hooking onto them. “useless fuckin’ things,” ben murmurs, and before you can protest, he rips them off seamlessly, throwing them to the floor.

your jaw falls open, gasping out at him, “ben! fuck, i needed those! i didn’t pack any–” 

he shuts you up instantly, his thick index and middle fingers finding your slit, swiping through your soaked folds, and you whine loudly, the sensation making your core tighten. he hushes you softly, looking up at you eagerly, “shh, shh, honey, y’don’t need that shit with me, not now. gonna fuck you right here. now. you’re soaked already.” 

your heavy eyes stare into his own, nodding eagerly as the tip of his fingers bump against your clit, sending a jolt throughout your body. he moans with a short laugh, leaning in to press a messy kiss to your mouth, his other hand just above your ass. he taps your lower back, muttering, “come up here.. gonna have you sit on my cock.. get in as deep as i fucking can.”

you grunt at his words, whining, “fuck, please, ben..” as the sole thought of it sends pulses to your pussy. you nod frantically, immediately scooting closer on his lap to reach his member, kneeling on the sides of his body to lift yourself up. ben’s hand grips the base of his cock to lift it up, and he’s hard, the girth making you drool. you gulp, wondering how the fuck you’ll fit it in, but you’re too high to fucking care.

you position yourself above him, the fat head of it lined up to your cunt perfectly. his hand on your back helps you move closer, the tip nudging against your hole as both hands grip your hips now, fingers digging into your skin. you bite your lip as you look down at his cock, core tensing in preparation. staring into his eyes now, you move, lowering yourself slowly as your walls engulf him bit by bit, inch by inch.

both of you moan as you take him, clenching around him so much that you nearly see stars. you’re so tight around him, and he’s in heaven.

ben groans loudly as his eyes fix on your pussy, and it’s porn right in front of him. he sputters out mindless noises, gritting his teeth as you finally take him to the hilt, feeling his cock fill you up, nudging the deepest parts inside of you.

you hiss out as you sink, your thighs colliding with his own as you adjust to him. “you’re so fuckin’.. tight, oh fuck, sweetheart..” he whines out, and you’re relishing in this; in him. you start moving, hips involuntarily rocking against him as you move up and down. it’s messy; out of rhythm and desperate, but so fucking good.

“haven’t..” he grunts, gripping your hips harder for leverage, “fucked a pussy like this in a long fucking time.” his breaths grow louder the more you move, your throbbing hole just above the tip and slamming back down repeatedly. your core tightens as he starts to thrust up into you, meeting your synchronized movements immediately, and you cry out as you take it. 

you blabber out mindlessly at the sensation, incoherent whines and what seems to sound like ben’s name over and over again filling his ears, and he just laughs, lifting himself from the back of the chair to sit up, adjusting you with him. his chest meets your body, chin resting on your shoulder as his hand finds your hair, gripping it tightly and pushing your body into him. he’s flush against your skin as he huffs into your ear, the hot breath engulfing your brain. your fucked out head and blown, wide eyes.

he moves against you as you bounce on his cock, words spurring out with his harsh pants on your skin, fingers tightening into your hair, “no thoughts in this pretty head, huh? nothin’ but my fucking cock in this cunt. s’how it should be. pretty girls like you.. s’what you’re made for.. made for me.”

your head scrambles at his words; the way they’re so filthy, but most of all? 

because of how right he is.

he fits inside of you like a glove; a perfect hole that’s meant for him to fuck. it has your eyes lolling back over and over again, unable to truly focus on the task at hand. and when your movements begin to slow because of this, ben’s grip on you handles it for you, hips thrusting up into you aggressively. your stomach tightens repeatedly as the tip of his cock hits the deepest parts inside of you, practically bulging out with each hit into you, and it makes your pussy convulse around him, rambled noises escaping your lips.

“am i right, honey? are you made for me?” ben growls in your ear, his harsh grunts echoing, “fuckin’,” he huffs, “answer me..”

his words hardly register in your brain as you grow closer and closer to your release, short moans being the only thing you can muster out, along with a few noises that almost sound like ben’s name. “mmphf– b-be– ah–”

he shushes you, arms wrapped around your body, “don’t gotta think baby, just feel.. let me take you like this, just feel me..” ben whispers desperately into your ear, moving one of his hands to reach between you, the large palm pressing into your lower abdomen, “right fucking here. you’re gonna feel me for fucking days, baby.”

it has your stomach doing flips, body quivering against ben’s hold. your eyes shoot open as he begins to slow his thrusts, relying on pure power rather than speed now. his hips snap into you repeatedly, slow and deliberate as if he needs to make sure your body memorizes the shape of his cock.

and, knowing him? you probably will.

you know that you’ll never get fucked like this again. you know that you’re already completely ruined for any other man now. and a part of you’s okay with that.

his fingers gripping your hair. his hands digging into your skin. the strike of his hips, holding you captive for him as he takes you. how could you think of anything else?

ben’s power over you doesn’t relent at all, his super strength enough leverage to keep himself completely occupied. the hips slamming inside of you have you seeing stars now, your eyes threatening to twitch open in bliss as he buries himself in your throbbing cunt. you involuntarily flutter around him, walls pulsing as your core constricts.

you feel ben’s cock twitch inside of you, his moans growing heavier as he lets out a breathless laugh, “you’re so.. close, i can feel you, sweetheart..” he grunts and snarls, his thrusts quickening rapidly, “and you’re gonna come on my cock like the good girl you are.. while i fill you up.. make sure i stay in this sweet pussy forever.”

you cry out as that familiar heat in your stomach arises, blurting out nonsense, along with a, “p-please, ben, please–”, that leaves you panting.

“yeah, baby? want me to come inside of you, s’that it?”

you nod furiously, whining out as your face heats up at the thought, flush and its sensation overwhelming you. you’re hot all over, and you just need a release.

“that’s my girl.. my sweet girl. gonna come inside of you, give you what you need..” he breathes out against your ear, and before you realize it, you’re convulsing around his cock, yelping out as you come. your hands grip onto his back, his arms, anything you can hold onto as you ride through it.

“there we go, baby, just like that, my fuckin’ girl..” he encourages you, overstimulating you with his unrelenting hips as he buries himself inside of you over and over again, making you clench around him uncontrollably. you’re spewing out mindless moans as your walls spasm, and it makes ben whine. 

he grunts out rapidly, unable to control the noises he makes as his hands on your hips feel tight enough to leave bruises, “gonna.. gonna fuckin’, oh– fuck!–” he moans loudly, cutting himself off as he pushes you down to the hilt, cock twitching rapidly with his come spilling inside of you. you feel the streams of hot white bury inside of you, and you’re lightheaded at the feeling, the aftershocks of your orgasm forming tears in your eyes.

you whine against him as you hold on tight, his hips rocking into you as you both ride it out. it’s almost intimate at how breathless the two of you are, taking in each other completely.

he huffs against your skin, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. it’s wordless, but it goes without saying. 

this was a moment you’d never forget. and you hoped that he wouldn’t either.

eventually, ben lifts your hips up, his cock sliding out of you as the mess you both made slips out of your cunt, making you whine at the feeling of his come falling out of you. the slick catches itself on his cock, spilling onto his grey sweats sloppily, and you can’t deny the twinge of arousal the sight brings you. leave that for another time.

you take a deep breath as you let out a small laugh, preparing to say something about getting up and cleaning yourself up, but to your surprise, ben’s arm holds onto your body tightly, lifting you up as his other hand shoves his sweats down, feet stepping out of them. he’ll deal with it later.

you yelp as he stands up fully with you in his arms, carrying you as he walks over to the shitty hotel bathroom, lowering you to stand in the bathtub. ben hums softly as he grabs a small rag, running warm water underneath it and squeezing out the excess water.

you’re in too much.. shock to bring yourself to say anything, but when he brings the rag to wipe your inner thighs and core, you let out a noise of surprise, cheeks warming up. who the fuck knew soldier boy could be so.. gentle?

he doesn’t look up at you as he continues. instead, he asks, “what? too hot?”

you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “no, just right.”

he lets out a satisfied noise as he finishes cleaning you up thoroughly, throwing the rag to the side as he grabs another one for himself, repeating the process. you watch him in awe as he does so, and you try your hardest to make sure you don’t fall in love with him.

but, when he carries you to the hotel bed and lays you down like you’re glass that might break, it seems a bit too late for that. and when he gets in that bed with you and holds you like his life depends on it? 

you know you’re done for, and you’re in for a ride.

[smileysuh]

good & bad

🌙 staring. Kim Mingyu & Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “My new therapist says it’s healthy behavior to let Wonwoo do what he wants to do ever so often,” you explain, watching Wonwoo beat Seungcheol at the arm wrestling and proceed to down two shots in celebration. “I’m not sure how she can think him coming to frats, getting drunk, and getting into pissing contests is healthy, but hey, it’s not my job to counsel power holders.”

tw/cw. Threesome, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, dry humping, horny!gyu, dom!wonwoo, Wonwoo tells virgin!Gyu what to do, hand job, Wonwoo using his power to help y/n ride Mingyu, manhandling, size kink, groping, nipple pinching, praise, degradation, voyeurism, pussy stretching, cream pie, multiple reader orgasms, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous & baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 8.8k

🍭 aus. superpower au, uni au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I was thirsting for another Meanie fic and I came up with this super power, I'd never seen it before and I thought it would be fun :)

Prologue:

“We thought she just had an active imagination,” your mother explained, reaching over to grab your hand and give it a soft squeeze. “Most kids show signs of powers when they’re six or seven, she’s ten now, so we just thought maybe she wouldn’t have any. Her father is a none-supe, so we came to terms with it years ago.”

The doctor was looking over your family file, and she nodded softly, looking up at your mother, then to you. “When did you first see signs that these imaginary friends of hers weren’t just in her own head?”

“There were little things,” your mother admitted. “I was cooking one night and she was drawing. When I looked again, the paper next to her had this image on it- a completely different art style to what she had been doing. When I asked her who drew it, she told me that Mingyu had.”

“Mingyu is one of her imaginary friends, correct?”

“Yes, she has Mingyu, who at first was described as the ‘good’ one, and Wonwoo, the ‘bad.’”

“Something akin to an angel and devil on your shoulder,” the doctor nodded. 

“Exactly.”

“After the art incident?”

“She was outside one day, tossing a ball around, and the ball bounced back to her, like some invisible person had thrown it back. At first, we thought maybe she had some sort of telekinesis, but she told me she was playing catch with Wonwoo.”

“So this was the first instance you saw proof that one of her imaginary friends could actually manipulate real-life objects, correct?”

“Yes.”

The doctor leaned back in her chair. “Are there any other events that have happened that push you to believe these imaginary friends of hers are real and it’s not a telekinesis power?”

“Well, y/n fell off her bike last week. Her knee was all scraped up. I was about to run and get bandages when this soft glow appeared over her knee. The scrape disappeared and she told me that Mingyu had healed her.”

“Very interesting.” The doctor had looked at you then, rolling forward on her chair. “Can I see your knee, please?”

You lifted the hem of your dress, showing your leg. There wasn’t so much as a scratch where Mingyu had healed you, and your ‘imaginary friend’ leaned over the doctor's shoulder to inspect his work. 

“Can one of these imaginary friends move an object in the room for us?” The doctor had asked next. “Perhaps, a book on the shelf over there?”

“Wonwoo can do that,” you’d nodded, gazing over at the boy your age who was leaning by the door, a disinterested look on his face.

With a sigh, he’d approached the bookshelf, reaching for a copy of War and Peace. The book had clattered to the ground.

“I don’t like being paraded around like this,” Wonwoo had mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Very interesting,” the doctor nodded. “It appears there might be some power at work here. I’ve never heard of a power like this one- two imaginary friends, one of which has healing abilities. I’ll make a note of it, and we will see how the power progresses with age. It’s possible as your daughter grows, so will the strength of these friends of hers.”

“Do you mean…” Your mother looked down at you nervously. “Is it possible we’ll ever see these friends ourselves? Or do you think they’ll stay invisible forever?”

“It’s anyone’s guess on that. As I said, I’ve never seen a power like this one. All we can do is wait and see what happens.”

one 

You’re seated on a musty old couch in the middle of a loud frat party, and a large part of you really doesn’t want to be here. Even with your friend Joshua keeping you company, you’re not here for yourself, and that always feels obvious to those around you.

Your gaze keeps shifting to Wonwoo, who’s having the time of his life. He’d done a keg stand the moment you’d arrived, and now, he’s in the middle of an arm wrestle with Seungcheol, the frat president, who, like your dark protector, also has a strength power variation.

Dino, a new pledge approaches you, handing a fresh cup of alcohol to Joshua. Like you, Dino’s eyes are locked on Wonwoo. “Tell me again why that dude isn’t part of the frat? I’ve never seen anyone go toe to toe with Seungcheol like this.”

“Should I tell him, or do you want to?” Joshua grins, bumping his shoulder against your own.

“You can tell him,” you sigh. In the past ten years since you found out you had an unusual power, you’ve gotten tired of explaining it.

“Dino, this is y/n, y/n this is Dino. Dino, y/n has a power where she has two imaginary friends, except, these days, they’re not so imaginary,” Joshua begins. “Wonwoo is one of y/n’s imaginary friends-”

“Wonwoo prefers the term companions,” you quip.

“Right, one of her companions,” Joshua corrects himself. “He’s got super strength like Cheol does. The reason Wonwoo’s not in the frat is because he can’t go more than a ten-meter radius from y/n, he’s tethered to her.”

“That’s a weird power,” Dino muses.

“Don’t be rude,” Joshua snaps, smacking the pledge’s arm. “Anyways, y/n’s not a huge fan of frats, so Wonwoo can’t join because she won’t be caught dead here more than once, maybe twice, a week.”

“My new therapist says it’s healthy behavior to let Wonwoo do what he wants to do ever so often,” you explain, watching Wonwoo beat Seungcheol at the arm wrestling and proceed to down two shots in celebration. “I’m not sure how she can think him coming to frats, getting drunk, and getting into pissing contests is healthy, but hey, it’s not my job to counsel power holders.”

“You said you have two uh… companions, where’s the other?” Dino asks, looking around.

“Mingyu’s staying inside tonight, he doesn’t agree with this sort of thing,” you sigh.

“Staying in?” Dino’s brows furrow in confusion. “I thought you said there was a radius thing?”

“Staying in here.” You tap your head. 

“He’s… inside your head?” Dino’s face scrunches up in something like disgust. “You have a dude in your head right now?”

Before you can answer, another frat boy comes running up. Seungkwan looks frazzled, his shirt haphazardly buttoned, eyes wide. “Y/N!” he bellows. “Quick, I need Mingyu! Some kid is greening out and puking in the bathroom upstairs!”

In an instant, your light protector appears next to you. Mingyu stands up quickly, face already shadowed with concern. “Show me where.”

“Jesus-” Dino jumps from the sudden emergence of the six-foot-two brick wall of a man. 

“Come on,” Mingyu urges, grabbing your hand to pull you from the couch. You let out an annoyed groan as he drags you through the crowd after Seungkwan, leaving Joshua and Dino in your wake.

You arrive to the second-floor bathroom, and you wait outside while Mingyu goes to investigate. Ever since the frat found out Mingyu has healing powers, they call on him for any sort of drunken mistake, including greening out. One touch from Mingyu can clear nausea, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to his powers.

You’re at a university dedicated to helping people train their abilities, and yet, you often feel like an outsider. It had been clear that you’d been struggling when you arrived, after all, you yourself don’t have any overt powers other than being connected to two men with astounding abilities, and that’s when you’d been assigned a therapist.

This whole ‘do things for Wonwoo and Mingyu’ idea has been a lot to wrap your head around, but you’re trying to make it work-

Wonwoo bounds up the stairs, his eyes alight with anger. “What are you two doing up here?” he practically growls.

“Mingyu’s helping some kid who greened out,” you explain.

“Of course he is, fucking knight in shining armor. Doesn’t he know this is my night? He’s ruining it with good deeds- pulled me away from beer pong.”

You sigh. “Discuss this with him.”

“I will,” Wonwoo states, pushing past you to enter the bathroom.

Releasing a deep breath, you sink against the wall, listening to the two men argue. Their words are muffled by the loud music that thrums through the house, and you don’t particularly care to know the details of their heated exchange.

You’re exhausted, and after looking at your phone for the time, you decide enough is enough. Pushing your head into the bathroom, you find Mingyu and Wonwoo holding each other by the front of their shirts, and their argument stops the moment you appear.

“It’s past midnight, I want to leave,” you sigh.

“But-” Wonwoo begins.

“That’s a good idea!” Mingyu grins.

“Wonwoo, I know this is your night, and I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this right now.”

Wonwoo frowns at your words, then releases Mingyu. “Fine, whatever. Let’s just go.”

two

“You seem agitated,” the therapist notes, watching the way Mingyu is fidgeting on the couch.

“It’s just…” he casts a sideways glance at you and Wonwoo, seated next to him with noise canceler headphones on, “I worry that they can hear me.”

“I can promise you they can’t. The noise cancellers are playing loud music. This is your time to talk with me.”

“Still…” Mingyu frowns, “it feels weird.”

“We can ask Wonwoo to go back inside y/n’s head if you’d like.”

“I don’t want that either, Wonwoo prefers to be outside.”

The therapist looks down at her notes. “Tell me more about that. What does being ‘inside’ feel like.”

“It’s dark,” Mingyu explains. “I can’t really explain it. Wonwoo and I don’t sleep, so I don’t know what sleep is like- but I’m pretty sure it’s not just dark boredom the way being inside feels.”

“Do you both have a preference for being ‘out’ then?”

“I mean… it’s a whole lot nicer than being in.”

“Have you ever discussed this with y/n?” The therapist cocks her head, and it’s clear she’s trying to understand, but Mingyu’s still not used to her.

“No. She has enough on her plate, especially now with the whole ‘give Wonwoo time to do what he wants to do’ thing.” Mingyu looks down at his hands, and he picks at his skin.

“I take it you don’t enjoy doing what Wonwoo wants to do.”

“No, and neither does y/n. My night in control is all about good food, relaxing, and watching Netflix. Wonwoo’s night in control is frat parties, keg stands, and getting into fights.”

“Sounds like comfort versus destruction.”

“Destructive is a good word to describe Wonwoo,” Mingyu admits. 

“Aside from your feelings on frat parties and keg stands and fights, do you think you each having time to choose what’s happening has been beneficial?”

Mingyu thinks about it for a moment. “Wonwoo has been less of a dick lately.” 

“That’s good news.” The therapist jots down some notes. “If I may, from the way I understand y/n’s power, you and Wonwoo are both parts of her. Opposing parts, but parts nonetheless. Do you think it’s possible that seeing as you’re both parts of her, there’s some part of y/n, perhaps even some part of you, that enjoys frat parties?”

Mingyu only shrugs.

“From what I understand, you mostly stay in during Wonwoo’s controlled times. If you weren’t so focused on disagreeing with his morals, or whatever it is you do disagree with, are there things about frat parties that you might like?”

“Maybe.” Mingyu picks at his skin again. “I do like to dance.”

“What if I challenge you to be out more at frat parties, to let loose and give it a chance?”

“I’ll do it because you’re asking me to, but I’m not sure how good it will feel.”

“Maybe that’s something to discuss at our next one-on-one.”

Mingyu can only shrug. He’s been tied to Wonwoo for over ten years now, and he doubts much could change the destructive, obnoxious way he views your darker half.

three

When you’d been accepted to a superpower-focused university, you’d been enrolled in things that would benefit both Mingyu and Wonwoo’s powers. For Wonwoo, you have to go to the gym with him and watch him lift obscene amounts of weight. The gym isn’t your favorite place, but at least you can get a workout while he trains. For Mingyu, on the other hand, he’s doing healer training in the hospital, and due to doctor-patient confidentiality, you’re stuck sitting in the hallway outside the exam room where he heals people. 

It’s quite boring. 

The one shining grace is that Wonwoo often sits with you, and the two of you watch anime on your phone together. Although Wonwoo doesn’t complain as much as he used to about being bored, you can tell from his slouched stance and heavy sighs that he’s just as tired of this whole thing as you are.

“You know,” you say, nudging him between episodes, “you don’t have to sit with me.”

“If you have to be here, I have to be here.”

“You can go back inside, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I’m entertaining, you’re less bored when I’m here,” Wonwoo insists. “Waiting for Mingyu is boring. You weren’t bored at the frat though, because frats are infinitely more fun than hospitals.”

“It might be boring,” you admit, “but… either way, it’s nice to see you both thriving. I think this therapy thing has been helpful with seeing all sides of this power.”

“As long as you’re thriving too,” Wonwoo notes, casting you a sideways glance. “It will be girls' night soon- you can have a whole night without us.”

“For real this time?” You narrow your eyes at the man who had ‘popped out’ during your last girls' night. While you enjoy Wonwoo’s company, both he and Mingyu make it very difficult to have female friends, who always get caught up in a sense of longing for the gorgeous men. 

“For real,” Wonwoo sighs. 

“Good, because if I get propositioned by one of my friends again for them to get a chance to sleep with one of you, I might just poke my eye out with a fork.”

Wonwoo lets out a soft chuckle. “Maybe that’s something you want to talk about with the therapist in your next session.”

“Maybe it is,” you huff, hating whenever Wonwoo says something that’s actually valid.

Your eyes turn back to your phone, where the anime has progressed through its recap and intro. As boring as sitting in a hospital for hours is, Wonwoo does make it a little bit easier.

four

Wonwoo appreciates Mingyu staying inside your head for his therapy sessions. It’s less stress having only you seated next to him, your noise cancellers on, your head leaned back, eyes closed. He thinks you might be sleeping, and he’s happy you can rest while his psyche is getting poked and prodded by the therapist. 

“How are your classes going?” 

“Fine,” Wonwoo murmurs.

“Elaborate on the word fine.”

He shrugs. “Fine. Not good, not bad. Just… fine.”

“What’s the not good aspect of that?”

Wonwoo looks up at the therapist. He doesn’t want to open up, but you’ve encouraged him that this is the place to do it.

With a loud sigh, he leans back against the couch. “I guess… last week we had a class about prospective jobs for people with strength powers, and I don’t know… all the other guys have options. They could join superhero teams, make a difference- and I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“No, I can’t,” Wonwoo repeats. “I’m tied to y/n. Anywhere I go, she has to be within a ten-meter radius. I couldn’t run into danger and worry about her getting hurt. She’s my priority, not anyone else. No matter how much I want to do more with my power- I can’t.”

The therapist cocks her head at him, assessing him with analytic eyes. “It sounds like you’re saying you feel like perhaps your skills are being… repressed, in a way.”

“I guess you could say that.” Wonwoo looks down. “I just… it’s not as bad for Mingyu. He could get a job at a hospital and y/n would be safe there. She’d be bored out of her fucking mind. But she wouldn’t be in danger. I’m starting to think that’s the best path forward, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“Do you think y/n would prefer that path?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t talked about it with her.”

“For three people so closely tied together, it seems as though there’s not as much communication about the important things as there could be.”

“We talk,” Wonwoo insists.

“When was the last time you all talked about something important?”

Wonwoo can feel hot anger bubbling up inside of him, but luckily, he has a quick example. “We talked about how we feel about this whole sharing time thing.”

“And?”

“Mingyu and I both like it, but… as much as y/n says she’s okay with it, I’m pretty sure it’s draining her to be bored all the time.”

“Earlier you said being tied to y/n has restrictions, do you think being tied to the two of you has restrictions for y/n too?”

“Clearly it does.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “Some days, I think she’d prefer to be powerless and be at a regular university.”

“Has she ever voiced that to you?”

“She never would, even if she felt it. No matter what it might look like to outsiders, the three of us care about each other. Or… well, I care about y/n, and so does Mingyu, and she cares about us.”

“You and Mingyu still haven’t been getting along I take it.”

“Nope.”

“And yet, Mingyu is inside right now. He’s giving you space to have a private conversation, which is a grace you don’t return when it’s his chance to talk with me one-on-one.”

“I hate being inside her head.” Wonwoo has never told you this, but most nights, when you go to sleep, he waits for you to be fully passed out before coming out again. He sits on the couch, watches anime- Mingyu’s gotten on his case for it a number of times, but Wonwoo hates boredom like he hates sand, hot weather, and the way Mingyu hums to himself when he cooks for you. “I don’t like being inside,” Wonwoo states again, more firmly this time.

“If you had your preference, how often would you be out?”

The answer comes quickly, “A hundred percent of the time.”

“And this is not something you can talk about with y/n?”

“It would make her uncomfortable,” Wonwoo says. “She never talks about it, but- she’d never had a proper relationship, she can’t with two dudes in her head or hanging around all day. I bet she can’t even touch herself without worrying me or Mingyu will pop out- I can imagine it would be very uncomfortable, and if I asked to be out all the time, it would put even more pressure on her. I don’t want that.”

“You care about her a lot.”

Wonwoo doesn’t see the need in responding.

The therapist clicks her pen. “Do you often think about these things? About… y/n’s sexual restrictions due to you and Mingyu?”

A wave of heated anger flashed over Wonwoo’s skin at the question. “I’m not a fucking pervert.”

“I never said you were, I’m just trying to understand the way this unique power affects that aspect of y/n’s life, of your life. Humans are sexual beings, and repression of desires like that can lead to anyone being pent up and frustrated.”

“If you’re asking if I’m a virgin, I’m not.”

“No?”

“Y/N’s had sleepovers with other girls since coming to university. More than one of her friends has propositioned me.”

“How frequent are these… encounters?”

“Not at all now. Y/N was getting upset with her friends falling for me, and sometimes I felt it was unfair to the girl. I can never have a relationship. On top of that, I felt bad keeping it a secret from y/n.” Wonwoo lets out a sigh. “It’s better for everyone if I keep it in my pants.”

five

Girls' night is going very well so far. You and two friends have already watched a movie, and now, while checking for your next rom-com, you’re all chatting about classes.

Jenni has ice powers, and she’s progressed an astounding amount already with how long she can use them. Yeji, on the other hand, can manipulate sound waves, and there have been all sorts of weird ways she’s adapted that for offensive and defensive situations.

It sucks sometimes to listen to them gush about their powers while you don’t really have any of your own. Besides Mingyu and Wonwoo, you feel like you’re just y/n. You yourself have no super strength or healing, no mind reading or telekinesis- you’re… just y/n, and in a university surrounded by amazing power wielders, it can be hard to hold your head high.

“Anyways, enough about us,” Jenni says, turning her eyes to you, “How are Wonwoo and Mingyu doing? I heard Mingyu’s one of the top healing power students this year.”

“Yeah, they’re doing good,” you shrug. “We’ve been spending more time at the hospital, Mingyu seems happy to be helping people.”

“He’s definitely the good one,” Yeji nods, flashing a grin at Jenni. “Are they gonna pop by tonight? They’re both uh… really hot.”

“I don’t think so… this is girls' night.”

You don’t miss the way Yeji frowns or the way she exchanges a glance with Jenni. 

“Anyways,” you turn to the TV, “should we start our movie?”

The girls nod and you begin to watch your next rom-com. You try to enjoy having just girl time, but soon, you start to get hungry. 

“How do you feel about ramen?” you ask.

“Oooh yum!” Yeji’s eyes brighten at the idea, and you immediately stand to go to the kitchen.

You haven’t even reached for a pot to boil water when you feel a presence beside you, and you turn to look up at Mingyu.

“You guys need a cook?” he grins. 

You let out a sigh, turning to see if Yeji and Jenni have noticed Mingyu, but they’re leaning together discussing classes.

“Gyu,” you whisper, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“But I thought maybe you’d wanna relax and I could cook?”

“Wait-” you narrow your eyes at him, “this is the second time in two weeks you’ve popped up at the exact time something was convenient for you. First with someone getting sick at the frat, and now with cooking-”

Mingyu looks guilty, and you cross your arms over your chest, waiting for him to explain himself. “Look… my uh… my power has been getting a little better and I kind of have a general sense for your thoughts when I’m in your head now.”

“What!?” You can’t help the way your voice raises, and you see Jenni and Yeji whip to look at you from over the couch. “Since when!?”

“Just for a bit-” Mingyu raises his hands in defense. “Look, I especially didn’t hear anything about Yeji calling me hot like two seconds ago.”

Now you’re mortified, and one look at your friend’s pink face shows you she is too-

Before you can say another word, Wonwoo appears, and he gives you a once over, then Mingyu. “I uh… sensed a disturbance in the force.”

He’s such a nerd, and in an odd way, he actually calms you down a little. “You know what? Fuck it. Mingyu, you can cook for us, but when you’re done, you’re both going to my room and wearing headphones and not eavesdropping on my girls' night!”

“Okay, you got it.” Mingyu turns to begin making the ramen, and before you can go to join your friends, Wonwoo grabs your arms.

“Uh, sorry about this,” he apologizes, and you’re shocked he’s apologizing for Mingyu’s behavior. “Neither of us really like being ‘inside,’ I think… he was just looking for an excuse not to be cooped up.”

“I’m very sorry,” Mingyu says over his shoulder.

“Look- we can talk about all of this later,” you sigh, trying to process what Wonwoo just said. “Please just- this is my night, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo nods. “We’ll try not to be a bother.”

six

At this point, you’re pretty sure neither Wonwoo or Mingyu can hear you talking to the therapist, after all, whenever you have the headphones on, everything else is muted by music. Even so, if they were to hear you, part of you wouldn’t care.

“It was girls’ night,” you state. “Girls’ night. My night. And even though I asked them to stay inside and not interrupt, they still popped out! And it turns out, their powers have been getting better, so now, even when they’re inside, they can sense my thoughts?! I have no privacy! It’s a disaster!”

“Deep breaths,” the therapist encourages you. “I can see why that would be frustrating.”

“Very frustrating!” You let out a deep sigh, and you’re shocked when it helps calm you down. “The thing that really bugs me though- is Wonwoo said they don’t like being inside.”

“What about that bugs you?”

“Because now I feel bad- now I feel like I’m being a bad friend whenever I ask them to go back inside- but, a girl needs alone time. She needs girl time- without two hot guys walking around and making her friends drool and go all googly-eyed!”

“What about your friends ogling Mingyu and Wonwoo frustrates you?”

“I guess- it’s more than the fact that they’re both hot,” you admit. “I think- sometimes I think I feel lesser to begin with because I don’t have any overt powers. I feel powerless in a university of power holders. It’s hard to make friends if you can’t do anything flashy- I never know if girls are friends with me for me, or for them.”

“Let's touch on that feeling of being lesser for a moment, then we can circle back to everything else,” your therapist suggests. “You said you feel powerless, although, the way I see it, you have two top-tier protectors. Mingyu is the highest-ranked in his healing classes, and his professors say he’s extremely gifted. And Wonwoo is strong, he’ll protect you no matter what.”

“But those are their powers, not mine.”

“They only exist because of you. Have you ever thought about your future after this? After school?”

“Not extensively,” you admit.

“How would you feel about being outside an operating room, about Mingyu being the main breadwinner and using his powers to take care of you?”

This isn’t something you’ve ever considered, and the notion takes you by surprise. 

“Many people use their powers to make a living, Mingyu is no different, and since he’s an extension of you, allowing him to use his power to take care of things would be moral, it would be natural even, don’t you think?”

“Are you suggesting I be a pretty little stay-at-home powerless tether to a healer?” you ask.

“It’s one possible outcome if that’s something you’d be interested in.” The therapist cocks her head at you. “You enrolled in this university, obviously you care about Wonwoo and Mingyu furthering their powers- I would find it difficult to see you go through all of this only to get a regular job that doesn’t utilize them.”

“I really have not thought that far ahead.”

“Think that far ahead for a moment. Tell me your ideal situation.”

You sit there, thinking. The Mingyu outcome she’d just painted was interesting, so you dare to consider a Wonwoo option. Could you go with him on hero missions? No. He wouldn’t let you. The Wonwoo path wouldn’t be good for anyone. Wonwoo gets distracted enough about your safety when you try new weight machines.

“Maybe… maybe going forward with Mingyu’s healing career would be good.” 

“Healers with the aptitude he has go far in this life,” your therapist notes. “You wouldn’t have to worry about money, or getting hurt.”

“But what about…” You bite your tongue. When Mingyu and Wonwoo had first become visible to others when you were fourteen, it felt like a dream, but when you’d been sixteen and unable to spend time with boys for fear of one appearing- you’d started to realize the downside to having two constant protectors. You try not to think about having a relationship too often, but now that you’re being asked to consider your future, you know you’d be happier to have someone in your life five years from now- even a week from now if that was possible.

“What are you thinking?” the therapist asks.

“Just that… as years go by, I feel like my hopes for getting a boyfriend diminish more and more. If we’re talking about my future, the one thing I know for sure is that I want someone to share it with.”

“You have someone. Two someones, in fact.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Are you suggesting…”

The therapist shrugs, sending you a girlie smile, one Yeji has sent your way multiple times before. “Are you interested in either of them that way?”

“I mean… sure… look at them.” You cast a sideways glance at Wonwoo, then Mingyu. “But… would it be weird to do that? They’re part of me, aren’t they?”

“Self-love and acceptance is the most important part of life, or so many Yogi’s say.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know, I’ve always thought maybe that would be crossing a line.”

“What line?”

“An invisible one?” you suggest, not quite having the words to explain it yourself. 

“Listen, I understand why this might be daunting. It would change the dynamic, as I’m sure you know, but, if you are looking to be romantic with someone, or two someones, I know that it would be hard to find a man who would care about you and want to take care of you the way Mingyu and Wonwoo do.”

“Is it okay for you to be suggesting this?” you ask.

“My job is to further your development, to straighten out any roughness in this dynamic. I’ve not shared this with you yet, but my power is to see auras. Whenever you talk about Mingyu or Wonwoo, your aura lightens, it’s a sign of love. Theirs lighten when they’re talking about you too. Wonwoo’s in particular is quite dark, but whenever you come up, he’s shockingly thoughtful and candid. Mingyu’s easy to read, as I’m sure you know. They both care about you, and you care about them.”

“I guess- if they feel that way, why haven’t they ever said anything?”

“You’re the boss, y/n, I think sometimes maybe you forget that.”

seven

If there’s one thing all three of you can agree on, it’s anime. Nights spent watching shows together are always very civil, and you enjoy the peace of this, even as you begin to get a little sleepy.

When you yawn for the third time, Mingyu turns to you. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“Nah, not bed, I think I just need a nap,” you explain. “But don’t worry, you don’t have to go back inside, I can just… curl up here and rest for a bit.”

You and Mingyu are on the main couch, with Wonwoo on the solo seater just next to you. You lay down, but Mingyu’s so big and takes up half of the space, so your feet end up haphazardly on top of his lap, and it’s not the most comfortable position.

“Do you want me to be the big spoon?” Mingyu suggests.

“That would be nice,” you admit.

You don’t often get that close to Mingyu and Wonwoo, but on rare occasions, when you’re feeling an extra need for protective energy, you’ve found yourself as a little spoon.

Carefully getting behind you, Mingyu opens up the space so you can stretch your legs. A soft sigh escapes you as you curl up to the pillow, with Mingyu’s warmth heating your back. 

You close your eyes, and while you are able to rest, you aren’t able to fall asleep.

Your mind is too full of thoughts about your last therapy session. Now that a professional has given you the go-ahead to explore things sexually with your two protectors, it’s frequently at the forefront of your mind. Having Mingyu’s strong body behind you isn’t helping any of these dirty thoughts, and you do your best to readjust slightly, trying to get into the most comfortable position in the hopes that you’ll pass out.

“You good?” Wonwoo asks. 

“You seem fidgety,” Mingyu notes. 

“Just thinking,” you sigh. 

Wonwoo casts you a glance. “About?” 

“Just…” Should you tell them? “I guess I had a kind of weird chat in therapy yesterday.”

“Our therapist is definitely a little unconventional,” Wonwoo agrees, and from the look on his face, you can tell he’s had an interesting chat or too as well.

“Do you want to tell us what happened?” Mingyu asks softly, his hand soothing against your arm.

“We were talking about the future,” you explain. “She asked what I wanted with my life. I hadn’t thought about it much before, but… I did tell her that one thing I’ve always wanted is a relationship. I don’t see myself getting old and being alone, you know?”

“You’ll never be alone,” Mingyu assures you, wrapping his arm tight around you to pull you close to his chest. “We’ll always be here with you.”

“And that’s the thing,” you let out a small laugh. “I’m out here wishing for a life partner, when I already have two.”

The room goes quiet, neither of your protectors say anything. You hear Mingyu take in a sharp breath, and Wonwoo looks at the man over your shoulder. There’s an unspoken communication between the two of them, and then Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours.

“What are you saying, y/n?” he asks.

“I guess… what I’m saying is…” You take a deep breath, mustering up your courage. “What if… what if we gave it a try?”

“Gave it a try?” Mingyu repeats.

“You know, it.” You look at him over your shoulder, willing him to understand.

“I think you need to spell it out for him,” Wonwoo chuckles. “He’s such a goody toe shoes he doesn’t get that you’re propositioning us for sex.”

“She’s what?” Mingyu’s lips part in confusion, and he looks between you and Wonwoo.

“I mean, unless you don’t want to-” You’re quick to try to back out of this, feeling anxious that you’d ever even brought it up.

“We want to,” Wonwoo assures you. “Mingyu’s been in love with you since we were sixteen.”

“Have you really?” you ask, blinking up at your bright protector. 

“I uh… well…” Mingyu stammers, his skin turning a cute shade of pink.

“And what about you, Wonwoo?” you turn, looking at the stoic man. “Are you in love with me too?”

“I’m the bad one, remember?” Wonwoo smirks. “As if I’d get sappy like he does.”

“I feel like that’s a yes,” you grin, heart thundering in your chest at this new development. “How come neither of you ever said anything.”

“We’re not big fans of putting pressure on you,” Mingyu says softly.

“It would also change things,” Wonwoo notes.

“Yeah, but, part of me thinks it would change things for the better,” you admit.

“So…” Wonwoo pauses your show, turning to face you and Mingyu. “Are we going to do this?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, giving a quick nod.

“Yeah?” Behind you, Mingyu presses closer, his hand caressing your arm again, his breath hot along your throat. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I think he wants to hear you say it,” Wonwoo grins. “We both do.”

“I want…” your words falter, but you’re quick to steady yourself even as Mingyu rubs his clothed cock against your ass. “I want you both to fuck me.”

Mingyu presses his lips to your neck, it’s a soft kiss, but it sets your body on fire. You let out a sigh of delight, tilting your head to give him more access. Tingles of pleasure erupt across you as he continues to press his gentle lips to your skin, his hand slipping down to cup your hip.

He squeezes you, almost enough to hurt, and it’s a rough motion from your generally gentle giant- it betrays how he feels, how deeply he wants you, and it makes you moan in excitement.

“We should move into the bedroom,” Wonwoo directs, standing from the single sofa. “Come on,” he reaches down for you, easily lifting you from Mingyu, who lets out an annoyed whine.

Sometimes you forget Wonwoo has the power of strength, and he carries you like you weigh nothing. His gaze is forward, his intentions set on getting to your bed, and it’s so incredibly sexy you think you might die.

“How do you want to do this?” Wonwoo asks softly.

“Hmm?” You’re a little shocked at the question, and it takes you a moment to even register it. “Oh, uh… no anal?”

Wonwoo laughs, looking down at you with those pretty eyes of his. “Yeah, that feels a little advanced for you.”

“Fuck you, I can be advanced!”

“Sure you can, just not tonight.” Wonwoo places you on the bed, and Mingyu, who had been following the two of you, is quick to big spoon you again, his lips returning to your throat.

Your eyes are on Wonwoo, and after a moment of watching you, he gets onto the bed too, facing you.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

“Uh huh.”

Wonwoo only laughs, shaking his head slightly before he brings his mouth to your own. It’s a soft kiss, and it takes you off guard. Behind you, Mingyu is getting more and more restless, all hands and tongue- but Wonwoo, in contrast, feels as cool, calm and collected as a cucumber.

At this point, Mingyu is practically dry-humping your butt, grinding his front against you and moaning. His sounds are awfully distracting, and you break your kiss with Wonwoo to look over your shoulder at the man who immediately grabs you to bring your lips to his.

Wonwoo lets out a chuckle again. “I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is, Mingyu’s a virgin. The good news is, that means he’ll be easy to teach.”

“I’ll be good,” Mingyu murmurs against your lips.

“Wait.” You turn to look at Wonwoo again. “He’s a virgin… you’re not?”

“I’m the bad one, you keep forgetting that,” Wonwoo laughs. “It’s not like you’re an angel either.”

That’s true, so you choose not to dwell on it. Instead, you grab Mingyu’s hand on your hip, guiding it down to your abdomen, then bellow the waistband of your sweatpants. 

“Do you want to direct him, or should I?” you challenge Wonwoo, who cocks a brow at your change in tone.

“Touch her pussy, Gyu. Tell me how wet she is.”

Mingyu moans in your ear as his hand explores further down, his fingers brushing over your clit then between your pussy lips. “Fuck, she’s so wet, and so warm-”

“Tease her a little. Her clit is at the top, it’s this small, pearl-shaped bud. Girls love it when you play with that. She’ll be dripping by the time you’re done.”

God, hearing Wonwoo talk like this is taking your breath away, and you squirm as Mingyu does as he’s told, his touch lingering on your clit.

“I found it,” Mingyu groans, pressing his cock against your ass again. “Does this feel good, baby?”

“Feels so good, Gyu,” you whine, your hands reaching out to grab Wonwoo’s broad shoulders like an anchor. 

Wonwoo watches your every expression. “Once she’s wet enough, you can try to slide one of your fingers into that tight pussy of hers. It’s important to stretch her out since I know you’re packing.”

A shiver runs through you now. Mingyu’s big- you know it in your bones, you feel it against your ass- 

“Can I?” Mingyu asks, sucking on your ear lobe. “Can I put my finger in your tight, wet pussy?”

You nod. “Please-”

He teases your opening, and you wait with bated breath for him to finally push in. When he does, you both moan loudly.

“Fuck her like that for a bit, then see if she can handle another finger,” Wonwoo instructs next. “While you’re doing that… how do you feel about stroking me off, gorgeous?”

You swallow thickly, nodding. Then you reach down for Wonwoo’s pants, helping him shift them down to his thighs. His cock slaps up against his abdomen, hard as a rock and glistening with precum. He’s big, on the longer side more than thick, but you don’t mind. You grasp him, rubbing your thumb through the precum to spread it across his skin.

“Do you need direction too?” Wonwoo grins at you.

“Don’t even try it,” you warn him.

“I was just teasing, you don’t seem to mind Mingyu’s teasing.”

“That’s cuz he’s-” Your words are choked off as Mingyu thrusts his finger in your pussy. “He’s doing a different kind of teasing.”

“Can I add another?” Mingyu groans in your ear, seemingly oblivious to the bickering between you and Wonwoo. 

“Yeah,” you nod, stroking Wonwoo faster while you wiggle your hips as an open invitation to Mingyu. 

Two fingers drag through your pussy lips, and when Mingyu pushes them into you, you swear you see stars. You throw your head back, eyes closing in ecstasy-

“If you crook your fingers, there should be a soft, spongy spot. That’s called the G-spot, girls like it when you apply pressure there,” Wonwoo tells Mingyu.

You feel Mingyu’s fingers beginning to explore inside of you, and you let out a whimper when he finds the spot Wonwoo is talking about.

“Looks like you found it, Gyu,” Wonwoo grins. “See? What did I tell you? A quick learner.”

Mingyu applies more pressure to your G-spot as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. Soon, you can hear how wet you are, and Wonwoo’s eyes darken.

“I think you’re just about ready for him, don’t you?” he asks.

“Yeah- fuck it, yeah,” you nod quickly. “Let's all get naked.”

Mingyu’s hand is out of your pants before you can even finish your sentence. He licks his fingers off, groaning at your taste, before he rips off his pants and shirt.

Your clothes are quick to follow, discarded onto the floor. “I’m gonna ride him,” you announce.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Wonwoo nods. 

You swing a leg over Mingyu’s hips, your hands flat on his chest- when you look down at Mingyu, you’re overwhelmed with a feeling you quite can’t explain. Bending down, you press your lips to Mingyu’s, capturing his cock between his body and your pussy. You grind against him while you make out, a flurry of tongues and whimpers of pleasure. 

“He might not last long, so I’d be careful if I were you,” Wonwoo warns, and you feel his body behind yours, his hands trailing up your sides.

You pull away from Mingyu, grabbing his cock and lining it up with your pussy. He’s so big- and his tip stretches you out as you slowly seat yourself down onto him, your wet hole taking inch after inch until you’re full to the hilt. 

“Fuck-” Mingyu whimpers, his hands settling on your hips.

“Feels like heaven, huh?” Wonwoo asks.

“Even better than heaven,” Mingyu breathes.

Wonwoo’s lips find your throat, and you arch your head back, enjoying the way his hands capture your breasts, massaging you. His thumb and pointer squeeze your nipple and you gasp, your pussy clamping down on Mingyu, who groans loudly.

“You should start riding him,” Wonwoo says, his mouth hot on your neck. “Here, I’ll help you.”

Wonwoo’s hands find your hips, and he lifts you off of his fried before pushing you back down. You let out a whimper of pleasure, closing your eyes and resting your head back against Wonwoo’s shoulder. 

With his super strength, he can easily lift you up and put you back down on Mingyu’s cock, effectively taking away all the leg strain so you can enjoy every moment of Mingyu filling you up.

“I might be bad, but I can be nice,” Wonwoo coos. “Look at me doing all the work.”

Mingyu lets out a grunt, and he begins to thrust up to meet you, driving his cock even deeper into your pussy.

“Fuck-” you gasp, reaching behind you to thread your fingers in Wonwoo’s hair.

“He feels good, doesn’t he?” Wonwoo asks. “Hey Gyu, rub her clit. Wonder if we can get her to cum for us.”

Mingyu’s thumb finds your sensitive bud and you squeal with delight, pussy throbbing around the massive cock impaling you. 

Each circle of his digit on your clit drags you closer and closer to the edge, your sounds filling the room-

“She’s gonna cum,” Wonwoo announces. “Tell her how badly you want to watch her cum.”

“Wanna watch you cum,” Mingyu moans.

“That’s not very original,” Wonwoo tuts.

“Fuck, you look so good bouncing on my cock. We both wanna see you cum. You’ll cum for us, right?” Mingyu looks so desperate. Lips puffy and parted, skin a soft pink, dark hair curled with sweat by his strong brow-

“Okay, okay- fuck,” you groan. “I’m gonna- fuck, I’m close-”

“When a girl tells you she’s close, don’t change anything,” Wonwoo tells the man below you. “Don’t add pressure or take pressure away from her clit. Don’t change your pace- the only thing I’d say you can change, is you can fuck her harder, but since you’re the bottom right now...”

Wonwoo’s grip on you tightens, and he bounces you even harder onto Mingyu’s cock, which makes you nearly cry from how good it feels. “Oh my god, oh my god-”

“How about you cum for us?” Wonwoo suggests. “I’m sure you’ll get Mingyu there too.” 

“Are you gonna cum with me, Gyu?” you ask, looking down at Mingyu from under heavy lids. “Please- I want you to cum with me?”

Mingyu lets out a grunt, his brows furrowing in concentration. You’d bet he’s holding off his high now, waiting for you, waiting for the moment you say it’s okay-

The cord in your stomach coils tighter and tighter, and when Wonwoo leans over you to whisper the word, “Cum,” in your ear, you can’t even help yourself.

Your pussy tightens like a vice on Mingyu’s cock, all the tension snapping as waves of pleasure throb from your core outward to the rest of your body.  The moan you let out is obscene, and the one Mingyu echoes is even worse, in the most sinful, sexy way.

“Fuck-” Mingyu grabs your hips, forcing you down on him completely, unable to move while the contractions of your orgasm milk his cock for all he’s worth.

“Look at you two cum whores,” Wonwoo breathes, and for some reason, the degradation doesn’t phase you in the slightest. “Bet you both needed that, didn’t you?”

You can only whimper a sound of affirmation. 

Wonwoo’s hands smooth along your back, helping your body calm down from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Let me know when you’re ready for more,” he says softly.

“Now,” you respond without hesitation. “Fuck me now.”

“You’re that eager?”

“Eager- plus the moment we’re done, I think I might pass out,” you admit. 

Wonwoo only laughs. “I’m going to help you off of him, then it’s face down, ass up. You good with that?”

“So good with that,” you grin. 

It’s easy enough for Wonwoo to help you off of Mingyu. He sets you next to your gentle giant, who’s still trying to catch his breath. 

You immediately push your butt toward Wonwoo, arching your back and looking at him over your shoulder.

“Wow, you really are ready,” he muses, hands gliding over your ass. “Don’t fall asleep on me or it might bruise my ego.”

“Sleep after you cum, so don’t worry if it’s quick.”

“What if I want to take my time?” Wonwoo asks, dragging his cock up and down your slit.

“Then I’d say you have so many other opportunities in the future to take your time, but right now, I just want to be full, and then I can pass out between you and Gyu.”

“You know what? That doesn’t actually sound that bad.” Wonwoo presses his cock into your wet hole, Mingyu’s cum acting as a kind of lube that makes it all too easy for Wonwoo’s length to glide against your walls.

“Fuck-” you groan, grabbing at the bed sheets. 

Wonwoo isn’t as thick as Mingyu, but somehow he reaches deeper. Two hands spread your ass cheeks so each rough thrust has Wonwoo’s cock going as deep as possible, his tip kissing your cervix and making your toes curl.

“Taking it so good,” Wonwoo muses, digging his fingers into your flesh.

“So pretty,” Mingyu whispers, pushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

He leans in, and you find yourself kissing Mingyu while Wonwoo rails you from behind. You can hardly help your moans as Mingyu’s tongue glides over yours.

“It’s kind of hot watching you two make out,” Wonwoo admits, his thrusts slowing so he can appreciate the view in front of him.

“Yeah?” You kiss Mingyu even harder and he shuffles closer, groping your breast.

“Rub her clit for me Gyu,” Wonwoo instructs. “If she wants this fast, we’ll have to get her to cum first.”

Your body tingles- you should have known Wonwoo would want one of your orgasms for himself if you gave one to Gyu. You have no problems with them providing you pleasure and you providing them with a view of your high in return.

You simply relax while they work you up together, acting in unison. 

Mingyu’s fingers are rubbing your clit in rough circles, and the feeling of Wonwoo filling you up has you going crazy. You’re doing your best to hold onto the moment, but you can feel yourself getting close to the edge again.

“You’re getting tight, gorgeous,” Wonwoo muses. “Gonna cum for us?”

“Yeah- almost there,” you whimper, arching your back even more so when Wonwoo drives forward, he hits a specific spot that has you seeing stars. “Fuck-”

“You feel so good, want to feel you cum on my cock, wanna feel your perfect pussy get all tight and creamy with my cum-” Wonwoo grabs your ass tighter, and the slight pain paired with his dirty words is enough to throw you over the edge.

Your entire body tenses as the cord of pleasure snaps, erupting through you like a volcano of white, hot intensity. “Fuck-” you whine, and Wonwoo echoes the sound as your pussy grips him harder than ever before.

“Shit, I’m cumming,” Wonwoo warns you, his thrusts faltering as he shoots his load deep inside your throbbing core. 

He lets out sinful groans, and you love the way he sounds as he rides you through your orgasm, roughly ramming into your gspot with shallow thrusts that feel like heaven.

Wonwoo finally comes to a stop, and you can feel him breathing heavily against your bare shoulders. 

“Clean up time, then bed,” Mingyu reminds you before you can close your eyes and fall asleep then and there.

“Right-” you whisper lazily, resting your cheek against the comforter.

“Here, I’ll help you, but only if I get to be your big spoon,” Mingyu suggests.

You nod. Wonwoo pulls out of you, and Mingyu is quick to bring a warm cloth to your aching core, wiping up the cum and getting you situated. He helps you lay down, disposing of the towel before joining you at your rear. His lips are soft against your shoulder, his hand gliding the expanse of your arm.

“We love you,” he tells you. “Even if Wonwoo won’t say it cuz he’s a jerk.”

Wonwoo only laughs, laying on his back in front of you and Mingyu. You’re too exhausted to say much other than, “I love you guys too,” and with that, you fall asleep next to your two lifelong protectors.

You don’t know what the future holds, but one thing is clear; as long as Mingyu and Wonwoo are protecting you, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! this might be low key my hero academia inspired- I've been going through the anime's like an addict lol

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cw/ tw. Threesome, unprotected sex, dildo use, pussy eating, oral (m/f receiving), deep throating, Mingyu monster cock agenda, spitting, spanking, dirty talk, dom!wonwoo, multiple reader orgasms, cream pie, Eiffel tower/spit roasting, double penetration, cumming on y/n’s face, masturbation, etc…   I petnames. Baby & gorgeous. 

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“So,” your therapist grins as she looks amongst you and your protectors, “I’m guessing things are going well?”

You can only smile, squeezing Wonwoo and Mingyu’s hands.

“It’s never been this easy,” Mingyu says wistfully, bringing your knuckles up to his lips to kiss.

“How are you two getting along?” your therapist addresses Wonwoo and Mingyu.

“Shockingly,” Wonwoo sighs, turning to grin at Mingyu, “I feel like we’re pretty good. Once Mingyu started listening to me, for once, things got easier.”

You nearly choke at Wonwoo’s words- reminiscing about how well Mingyu listens to Wonwoo’s instructions in bed.

“This is a good step,” your therapist smiles. “I’m proud of all three of you.”

No one’s ever told you they were proud of you for getting railed like a whore in heat by not one, but two, men- but hey, there’s a first time for everything.

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[wonderjanga]

Mute billy

Wizard: “Say my name!” *closes eyes and raises hands*

Billy: *stares*

Wizard: *cracks one eye open* “Billy, say my name.”

Billy: *continues staring*

Wizard: “Billy??”

Somehow, The Wizard didn’t realize that throughout his entire speech about Billy becoming the Champion, Billy hadn’t said a word and just stared.

Wizard: “Billy… if you can speak, say my name-” *gets crushed by the stone thing*

And that’s how Billy went like a solid two weeks without transforming. By the end, he was teaming with magical energy so much so that he thought if he just moved to the wrong way, he’d explode. He knew you were supposed to say something, but since he couldn’t say anything, he had to find a way around it.

Billy: *walks into an alley and finds a piece of cardboard and scribbles the word Shazam on it*

Now, he was about to go back to the cave and see if he could just thrust the cardboard at the Wizard’s corpse and pray it will work. Unfortunately, it started raining halfway there.

Billy: *ducks into a different alley for a shortcut, and holds the cardboard above his head to block the rain*

Billy heard thunder, and then he was a grown ass man.

Zeus: ‘FINALLY! Sorry, kiddo, but I just took what I could get.’

Marvel: *confusion*

Solomon: ‘Billy, because you cannot speak, please just hold the cardboard above your head, so our friend- eh… colleague Zeus can see.’

And that’s how Billy gained the ability to transform. He went around being a hero and all that, he got to meet the Fawcett heroes and befriend them still.

Minute-Man: “Yeah, so I’ll take two scoops of chocolate.” *look to Marvel* “What do you want, big man?”

Marvel: *silence*

Minute-Man: *somehow understood his silence* “Right, and he’ll take a scoop of Rocky Road.”

They all developed a wordless understanding of the Cheese.

Then the bubble popped and Billy got to interact with people outside of the Fawcett heroes and Fawcitizens who were used to him being the big silent sunshine.

Marvel: *standing menacingly behind a Gothamite*

Gothamite: *slowly turns around, thinking they’re about to be bludgeoned to death by the next Bizarro*

Marvel: *points to their dog*

Gothamite: *now thinks their dog is about to be bludgeoned to death by the next Bizarro*

Marvel: *inches closer to the doggy*

Dog: *can sense its about to get pets and just loves it*

Gothamite: *confused as to why their dog isn’t literally whimpering in fear*

Marvel: *pets the doggy*

Gothamite: *confusion*

Marvel: *finishes, waves, and leaves*

or

JL: “Tell us who you are!”

Marvel: *just stares*

Spy Smasher: “His name is Captain Marvel, or Cap.”

Supes: “He couldn’t answer himself?”

Bulletman: “He can’t talk.”

Supes: “Oh.”

Batman: “That doesn’t answer who you all are. It’s not everyday a group of heroes just pops up-”

Spy Smasher: “SHUT THE HELL UP. We came before you kiddies!”

Marvel: *pats his shoulder looking at him like he’s crazy*

That was Billy’s way of saying “dude calm the hell down. Please.” Also, because Billy is mute, his face is extremely expressive. Marvel stared him into apologizing.

Spy Smasher: “I apologize for my outburst.”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Main Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You Chapter 30 - Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh 🚩 Chapter 31 - I'd Do It All Again ❤️‍🔥

More Than You Could Ever Know - A No Love Lost Christmas Special

Part 1 - The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. ❤️‍🔥 Part 2 - Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Part 3 - You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened.

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - Request! Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Takes place 5ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes places in Chapter 28.❤️‍🔥 I Want You Only - You and Ben go shopping. Takes place in Chapter 28 ❤️‍🔥 I’ll Hold Your Hand - Request! You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Takes place post series.

Found Footage (Post-Series Chapters)

Just Too Important - You and Ben head to Costco. Takes place about two months post-series. Dreams of Love - Request! You and Ben have to babysit. Takes place ten months post-series. Setting In A Honeymoon - You and Ben finally get a honeymoon. Takes place about a year post-series.

[stabby-pal]

I like listening to walk like an egyptian on occasion and think it’s a pretty good song but I do not like the thing near the end of the song where it sounds like they’re shooting a cartoon laser gun for no reason

[lila-lou]

✨Classic✨

Summary: Ben is cocky, relentless, and completely fixated on you, especially the curves he can’t stop staring at. His teasing turns shameless, his comments indecent, and his obsession with your boobs impossible to ignore.

-Requested-

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language

Word Count: 11512

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The bell above the diner door jingled, and you didn’t look up right away. It was just another busy Saturday shift at Carter’s Diner, and you were already juggling too much—balancing college classes during the week and working here on weekends to make ends meet. But a nudge at your side broke your focus, and you glanced over to see your boss, Lindsay, standing next to you, wide-eyed and biting her lip like a schoolgirl with a crush.

"He’s here", she whispered, leaning in conspiratorially.

You frowned. "Who?", you asked, finishing the note for table five’s bacon-and-eggs special.

Lindsay didn’t answer right away. Instead, she nodded toward the booth at the far end of the diner. Your gaze followed hers, landing on a man sliding into the cracked leather seat like he owned the place. His supe suit was unmistakable—green and gold, hugging his broad shoulders and chest. He wore it like armor, and the confidence radiating off him made it clear he knew everyone in the room was watching.

"That’s Soldier Boy?", you asked in disbelief, keeping your voice low.

Lindsay nodded, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "He’s been coming here for months. Loves the chili and fries. Looks even better in person, doesn’t he?", she said, nudging you again with an elbow.

You wrinkled your nose and shook your head. "Ugh, I don’t like supes", you muttered under your breath. "And him even less. I’ve only heard bad things about that guy".

Lindsay gasped, pretending to be scandalized. "Oh, come on, you don’t know him. And he’s got that old-school charm. They don’t make men like that anymore".

"Yeah, because that’s probably for the best", you replied, grabbing the coffee pot. Lindsay was still watching you expectantly, her grin almost infectious.

"Be nice", she called after you as you made your way toward the booth. "You know, he tips well!".

You didn’t bother answering her. Instead, you tightened your grip on the coffee pot and walked toward the booth, your heart beating faster with every step.

Ben had been coming to Carter’s Diner for months now. It was the only place in the city that felt like a time capsule—the cracked tiles, the faded wallpaper, and the smell of cheap coffee and sizzling grease. Nothing here had changed since the ’80s, and for him, that was the point. The world outside had moved on in ways he didn’t quite understand, and this place was his escape from it.

As you walked up to his booth, coffee pot in hand, he didn’t look up at first. His gaze was fixed on the laminated menu, though he didn’t really need it. The same chili-and-fries combo was always his order. But then you spoke.

“Coffee?”, Your voice was soft but confident, with a natural warmth that cut through the background hum of the diner.

Ben’s eyes flicked up, and for a moment, he just stared.

Damn.

He hadn’t noticed you before—must’ve been new. But now, seeing your face, he couldn’t look away. There was something about you, something fresh and untouched by the world’s grime. His gaze lingered a second too long, taking in your bright eyes and the slight curl of your lips. He felt a twinge deep in his chest, a strange mix of curiosity and desire, like a spark catching fire.

And then his eyes dropped lower.

The tight uniform you wore did little to hide the curve of your chest. Those big, perfect tits stretched the fabric just enough to make it clear that whoever designed the diner’s dress code hadn’t thought about women like you. Ben shifted in his seat, his jaw tightening as a familiar heat stirred in him. The slight twitch in his pants was unmistakable, and he shifted his legs, adjusting to keep himself in check.

He leaned back in the booth, his lips curving into a sly, knowing grin. “You new, sweetheart?”, he asked, his voice a low rumble that was equal parts charming and cocky.

“Just here on the weekends”, you replied, your tone polite but clipped. “College bills don’t pay themselves”.

Ben arched a brow, his grin widening as he tilted his head, studying you like you were the most interesting thing he’d seen in years. “College, huh?”, he said, the rich timbre of his voice drawing more attention than you’d have liked. “Smart girl. What are you studying?”.

You sighed, already regretting answering his question. “Literature”, you replied curtly, tapping your pen against the edge of your notepad. “Anything else you’d like to know, or should I just take your order?”.

Ben didn’t answer right away. His gaze had drifted, dropping shamelessly to your chest again, where the snug diner uniform strained over your curves. His smirk grew, slow and wicked, as if he didn’t care one bit about being caught.

"Literature", he said finally, his voice laced with amusement. His eyes flicked back up to meet yours, the intensity in them making you stand a little straighter. "Didn’t peg you for a bookworm, sweetheart. But I guess I shouldn’t judge a book by its…cover". His eyes dipped again, lingering for just a second too long, making the double meaning of his words painfully obvious.

Your jaw tightened, and you resisted the urge to dump the coffee pot in his lap. Instead, you gave him a tight smile, your pen scratching furiously against the notepad as you scribbled down his order. "Chili and fries, right? Got it. I’ll put it in".

Before you could turn away, his hand shot out, gently brushing your wrist. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. "Hey, take it easy", he said, his voice softer now but still laced with that maddening confidence. "Didn’t mean to piss you off. Just…appreciating the view".

Your eyes snapped to his, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with tension. He looked at you like he was daring you to respond, his smirk still firmly in place. It was infuriating—he was infuriating—but there was something disarming about the way he held your gaze, like he wasn’t used to people calling him out and maybe even liked it when they did.

"Well, maybe next time you can ‘appreciate the view’ without making it so obvious", you shot back, pulling your wrist free and stepping back. "Enjoy your coffee, Soldier Boy".

Ben chuckled as you walked away, the deep, rumbling sound following you all the way back to the counter. You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, but you didn’t look back. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

"Well, that was something", Lindsay teased, leaning against the counter as you slapped the order slip down. "You might be the first woman to ever give him a hard time. Most girls would’ve melted into a puddle by now".

"Yeah, well, I’m not most girls", you muttered, reaching for the coffee pot again, trying to ignore the way your heart was still pounding.

Lindsay grinned, watching as you busied yourself with anything to avoid glancing back at the booth. "No, you’re not", she said knowingly. "And that’s exactly why he’s gonna keep coming back".

You didn’t respond, but deep down, you had a feeling she might be right.

The next week, like clockwork, the bell above the diner door jingled at the same time it had the week before. You were wiping down the counter, trying to get through another weekend shift without running yourself ragged, when you glanced up and froze.

There he was. Soldier Boy—Ben—strolling in. The grin on his face was unmistakable, and the moment his eyes landed on you, it only widened. You cursed under your breath. Of course, he’d come back.

“Guess who’s here”, Lindsay whispered, nudging your side as she passed with a tray of plates. Her smirk was infuriating, but you ignored it, grabbing the coffee pot like it was a shield.

He walked straight to his usual booth, sliding in like he hadn’t thought twice about it. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time, but you kept your head down, busying yourself with meaningless tasks to delay the inevitable. Finally, though, there was no excuse left. You straightened your apron, took a deep breath, and walked over to him.

“Coffee?”, you asked, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.

Ben’s grin widened the moment you reached his booth, and he leaned back against the cracked leather like he didn’t have a care in the world. "Sweetheart, you already know the answer to that", he said, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. "Keep it coming. Best damn coffee in the city".

You rolled your eyes, pouring the coffee without a word. He didn’t take his eyes off you for a second, his gaze heavy and lingering, making you hyperaware of every move you made. As the coffee filled his cup, you caught his smirk out of the corner of your eye, and it made your stomach twist—not from nerves, but from irritation. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

"Chili and fries again?", you asked, pulling out your notepad and pen, eager to cut the interaction short.

"Of course", Ben said, his tone smug. "A classic, just like me".

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. "Sure", you replied dryly, scribbling the order down. "Anything else? Or are you sticking with ‘just like you?’”.

Ben laughed, the sound rich and deep, like he found you genuinely amusing. It annoyed you that it was… a little charming. "Oh, feisty today, huh?", he said, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. His grin didn’t waver. "Gotta say, I like that. A little spark keeps things interesting".

"Glad I could keep you entertained", you muttered, stuffing the notepad back into your apron.

Ben wasn’t done, though—not even close. "You know", he began, his tone slower now, like he was letting you in on a secret, "most girls would be falling all over themselves to get a chance to talk to me. But you? Nah, you’re all business. It’s… refreshing. Kinda cute, even".

Your jaw tightened, and you shot him a pointed look. "And yet, here you are. Same booth, same order. I guess I must be doing something right".

His eyes lit up at that, and he let out another laugh, his head tilting back slightly. "Oh, you’re good. Real good", he said, pointing at you as if you’d just told the punchline to the best joke he’d ever heard. "I like you, Y/N. You’re sharp. Makes me wanna stick around and see what else you’ve got".

"Thrilled to hear it", you replied flatly, turning on your heel. "Your food will be out in a few".

As you walked away, you could feel his gaze on you, practically burning a hole through your back. You set the order slip on the kitchen counter with more force than necessary, muttering under your breath. Lindsay caught your expression and sidled up beside you, smirking.

"He’s got you riled up, doesn’t he?", she teased, crossing her arms. "I don’t blame you, though. Guy’s a piece of work—but he’s hot".

"Yeah, well, he’s also full of himself", you muttered, refusing to look back at the booth. "Bet he thinks the whole world revolves around him".

"Doesn’t it?", Lindsay quipped, winking.

You sighed, trying to shake off the irritation. But when you snuck a glance toward Ben’s booth, you caught him looking straight at you, his grin still firmly in place. He raised his coffee cup in a mock toast, like he knew exactly how much he was getting under your skin.

Damn him.

Four weeks had passed, and like clockwork, Ben showed up every Saturday. Same time, same booth, same order. But something had shifted. By now, you couldn’t help but notice how his flirtation had gotten bolder with each visit, his comments dirtier, his gaze lingering longer than was polite. He made no effort to hide the way he looked at you, especially when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

And while you hated to admit it—even to yourself—you found yourself looking forward to it.

Still, there was a growing frustration simmering beneath the surface. For all his swagger, all his cocky charm, Ben hadn’t actually made a move. Not a real one, anyway. Sure, he called you “sweetheart” and let his eyes wander far too much, but he hadn’t asked you out. And while you’d never admit it out loud, it bothered you. Part of you had started expecting it, even wanting it.

Today, however, things were different. You’d been called into work earlier than usual, and with your shift almost over, you were trying to juggle your plans for the evening. There was a book you desperately needed for Monday’s class, and the bookstore was closing in twenty minutes. You didn’t have time to change before leaving, so you’d come to work in the clothes you planned to wear out: a tight, ridiculously tight, fitted top that clung to every curve and accentuated your chest more than you’d usually allow.

Ben noticed the second you walked back out onto the diner floor. His gaze locked onto you like a missile, and for the first time in weeks, he seemed genuinely thrown off. He didn’t even bother hiding it; his eyes dropped to your chest and stayed there, his jaw tightening slightly.

“Fuck me”, he said, his voice lower and slower than usual as you approached his booth with his bill. “Is that what you’ve been hiding under that little uniform all this time?”.

You rolled your eyes, but you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “Don’t start”, you warned, trying to sound unaffected, though his reaction was already flustering you.

Ben grinned, leaning back in the booth as his eyes roamed over you, lingering far too long on your chest. “No, seriously. I think I deserve a little heads-up before you walk in here looking like… that”.

“Like what?”, you asked, setting his bill down on the table.

“Like that”, he repeated, gesturing to your top with a wave of his hand. His eyes gleamed with mischief, but there was something darker in them too, something raw. “I mean, fuck, sweetheart. You trying to kill me or what?”.

You crossed your arms over your chest—mostly to shield yourself from his gaze—but that only made his grin grow wider.

“Can you hurry? Please?”, you said, forcing your voice to stay even. “I’ve got somewhere to be“.

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”, he asked, sitting up straighter, suddenly interested.

“Bookstore”, you replied, already turning to leave. “Closes in twenty minutes, and I’ve got to grab something for class”.

Ben was quiet for a moment, and when you glanced back, his gaze was still firmly fixed on you, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

“You’re not walking there dressed like that, are you?”, he asked, his voice laced with something between amusement and possessiveness.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”.

Ben shrugged, sliding out of the booth and standing up, towering over you with that cocky grin still plastered on his face. “I mean, a girl like you, dressed like that? You’re gonna turn heads. Might need someone to keep the vultures at bay”.

“Let me guess”, you said dryly, crossing your arms once more. “You’re volunteering?”.

Ben tilted his head, his grin softening into something a little more genuine. “Damn right, I am”.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the clock above the counter. The bookstore was closing in less than twenty minutes, and you knew there was no way you’d make it on foot. You didn’t own a car, and even if you bolted out the door right now, you’d still be too late. Frustration bubbled up, and you let out a small sigh before turning back to Ben, who was now watching you with an annoyingly amused expression.

“Do you even have a car?”, you asked bluntly, crossing your arms as you fixed him with a questioning look.

Ben arched a brow, clearly enjoying your sudden shift in tone. “Sweetheart, do you really think someone like me walks everywhere?”, he replied, his grin widening. “Yeah, I’ve got a car. Why, you need a ride?”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny the obvious. “The bookstore closes in twenty minutes, and there’s no way I’m making it in time on foot”.

Without hesitation, he was pulling a few crumpled bills from his pocket and tossing them onto the table. The motion was casual, like money meant nothing to him—which, you figured, it probably didn’t. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he extended a hand toward you.

“After you”, he said, his voice dropping into that rich, teasing tone that made your stomach twist in ways you refused to acknowledge. Then he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your ear. “Big, bad Soldier Boy is saving the day”, he murmured, his voice low and deep, sending an uninvited shiver down your spine.

You stiffened, refusing to let him see how much his proximity affected you. Shooting him a sharp look, you brushed past his outstretched hand, deciding to ignore the theatrics entirely. “Let’s just get this over with”, you muttered, heading for the door.

Behind you, Ben chuckled, the sound rich and amused, and you could feel his gaze following you all the way out to the parking lot. As you reached the sidewalk, you heard the unmistakable growl of an engine starting up. Turning, you saw him pulling up in a sleek, black muscle car that looked like it had been pulled straight from a vintage car show. He rolled down the passenger window, leaning an arm casually against the frame as he looked up at you.

“Get in, sweetheart”, he said, his grin widening. “Clock’s ticking, remember?”.

You hesitated for half a second, contemplating the wisdom of climbing into a car with Ben of all people. But the clock was ticking, and your options were limited. With a resigned sigh, you opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, the scent of leather and faint aftershave filling your senses.

The door shut with a satisfying thunk, and Ben shifted into gear, the car roaring to life beneath you. He glanced over, clearly pleased with himself. “Now, hang on. This baby’s got a little kick”.

“Just drive”, you said, ignoring his grin as you buckled your seatbelt.

Ben smirked, gunning the engine as the car peeled out onto the street, the tires screeching slightly against the pavement. “Yes, ma’am”, he said, throwing you a quick wink.

You sat back, gripping the edge of your seat as the world blurred past the window. Ben handled the car with practiced ease, weaving through traffic like he owned the road. You hated to admit it, but there was something thrilling about the way he drove—something confident and controlled, yet just on the edge of reckless.

“So, what’s the rush?”, he asked after a moment, his tone teasing. “Don’t tell me you’re actually this dedicated to your homework”.

“It’s not homework”, you replied, shooting him a glance. “I told you. It’s a book I need for class. And if you’d quit talking and drive faster, I might actually get it before they close”.

Ben’s grin widened, and he pressed down harder on the gas. “Your wish is my command”, he said smoothly.

You turned back to the window, hoping the rush of the ride would drown out the way his voice lingered in your mind. The bookstore came into view just as the minutes ticked down, and Ben pulled up to the curb with a flair that was entirely unnecessary but undeniably his style.

“Made it”, he said, throwing the car into park and turning to you with a satisfied grin. “Told you I’d save the day”.

You rolled your eyes, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Don’t expect a medal”, you shot back, opening the door and stepping out.

Ben leaned across the console, calling after you. “Come on, Y/N. Admit it—you’re impressed”.

You turned, giving him a look that was half-annoyed, half-amused. “Stay here. I’ll be right back”.

When you came back to the car, clutching the book you’d rushed to get, Ben was still lounging in the driver’s seat, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel. The headlights illuminated the quiet street, casting long shadows, and the faint hum of the engine added a low, steady background noise. As you climbed back into the passenger seat, he raised an eyebrow at you, an expression somewhere between amused and incredulous.

“So”, he said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness, “you just assumed I’d wait around to drive you back, huh? Didn’t even bother asking. Gotta admit, sweetheart, you’ve got some nerve”.

You shot him a sidelong glance, unfazed by his teasing. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”, you replied, setting the book down on your lap and clicking your seatbelt into place. “Figured that meant you didn’t have anywhere better to be”.

Ben smirked, leaning back and studying you with those sharp green eyes that always seemed to see a little too much. “Fair enough”, he said, his tone slow and easy. “But what makes you think the Soldier Boy’s personal chauffeur service is free?”.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, come on. What do you want? Gas money? A thank-you? Fine. Thanks for the ride. Happy?”.

Ben laughed, the sound low and genuine, and he shook his head as he shifted the car into drive. “Nah”, he said, glancing over at you with that cocky grin. “I think I’ll just take the pleasure of your company as payment. Call it even”.

You tried not to let the comment rattle you, but the way his voice dipped on the word pleasure sent a flicker of heat through your chest. Clearing your throat, you turned your gaze out the window, watching as the city lights flickered past.

The car ride to your apartment, not back to the diner, was quieter than you’d expected, but not uncomfortable. Every now and then, Ben would make a comment—a sly remark about your book or a teasing question about your weekend plans—and you’d give him a sharp but good-natured reply. It was a strange kind of rhythm you’d fallen into, like sparring partners who secretly enjoyed the match.

When he finally pulled up in front of your building, he put the car in park but didn’t move to turn off the engine. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, watching you expectantly. “Well?”, he said, tilting his head. “Aren’t you gonna invite me up for a drink? Or at least offer me a cookie or something for my trouble?”.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You expect me to reward you for doing the bare minimum?”.

He chuckled, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Not a reward, sweetheart. Just… hospitality. I did just save your ass, remember?”.

You sighed, debating for a moment. Part of you wanted to tell him off, to end the the afternoon here and shut the door on his relentless teasing. But another part of you—the part you were trying very hard to ignore—didn’t entirely hate the idea of spending a little more time with him.

“Fine”, you said finally, opening the door and stepping out. “But don’t get comfortable. One drink. That’s it”.

Ben grinned, killing the engine and climbing out of the car. “One drink”, he echoed, his voice laced with amusement. “Scout’s honor”.

As you led the way up to your apartment, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly you were getting yourself into.

You unlocked your apartment door and pushed it open, flicking on the lights and stepping inside. Ben followed close behind, his boots heavy on the hardwood floor. You glanced back at him, already regretting your decision.

“Make yourself at home”, you muttered sarcastically, setting your book down on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, don’t worry”, Ben said with a grin, already looking around the room shamelessly. “I planned on it”.

He didn’t wait for an invitation to explore, his sharp green eyes scanning every corner of your apartment. His casual arrogance was impossible to ignore, the way he carried himself like nothing and no one could challenge him. You busied yourself grabbing a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine, figuring it was the easiest option for “one drink”. But when you turned back, you caught him standing by the laundry basket in the corner, something lacy dangling from his fingers.

It was a bra. Your bra.

“Seriously?”, you snapped, setting the glasses down with a clink. “Put that down”.

Ben didn’t listen, of course. He held the bra up, inspecting it with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk that made your blood boil. “This yours?”, he asked, his tone mock-innocent. “Didn’t peg you for the lacy type, sweetheart. Looks… sturdy. But then again—”, his gaze dropped deliberately to your chest, lingering in a way that was anything but subtle. “—guess it’d have to be, huh?”.

Your cheeks burned, and you crossed the room in a few quick strides, snatching the bra out of his hands. “You’re unbelievable”, you hissed, shoving it into the laundry basket where it belonged. “What is wrong with you?”.

Ben laughed, completely unbothered by your anger. “What? I’m just making an observation. Don’t get so bent out of shape, sweetheart”.

You glared at him, fists clenched at your sides, but his smug grin only deepened. He leaned against the edge of your couch, arms crossed over his chest, watching you like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. “Relax”, he drawled, his voice dipping into that lazy, cocky tone that drove you insane. “You’re the one who invited me up here. You should’ve known what you were getting into”.

You opened your mouth to retort but couldn’t find the words. He was infuriating. Absolutely, undeniably infuriating. And yet, the way he looked at you—bold and unapologetic, like he couldn’t get enough of you—made your heart race in a way you didn’t want to admit.

“I’ll pour the wine”, you said finally, spinning on your heel and heading back to the kitchen before you could say something you’d regret.

As you reached for the bottle of wine, you heard Ben's voice cut through the air, dripping with disdain.

“Wine?”, he asked, his tone laced with mockery. “Do I look like a fucking pussy to you?”.

You froze, bottle in hand, and turned to see him, still leaning against the edge of your couch, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. He looked genuinely offended, like you’d just suggested he trade his supe suit for a tutu. The cocky smirk was still there, but now it was edged with that signature Soldier Boy arrogance.

“What’s wrong with wine?”, you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “It’s easy, it’s quick, and I’m pretty sure it won’t kill you”.

Ben scoffed, pushing off the couch and striding toward you. “Sweetheart, I don’t do wine”, he said, his voice low and rough as he leaned on the counter, his eyes locking with yours. “I’m a whiskey man. Always have been, always will be”.

“Of course, you are”, you muttered under your breath, setting the wine bottle down with a bit more force than necessary. You crossed your arms and stared up at him, trying to ignore how close he’d gotten. “Well, sorry to disappoint, but I don’t keep whiskey stocked for uninvited guests”.

Ben tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Uninvited? Funny, didn’t feel like that when you practically begged me to give you a ride home”.

Your jaw dropped. “Begged?”, you repeated, your voice rising. “I asked. There’s a difference”.

“Sure, sweetheart”, he said, clearly not buying it. “Whatever helps you sleep at night”.

You glared at him, and he just chuckled, reaching out to pluck the wine glasses off the counter. “Guess we’re slumming it tonight”, he said, holding them up with a theatrical sigh. “Pour it, then. Let’s see what all the fuss is about”.

You stared at him for a moment, torn between kicking him out of your apartment and pouring the wine just to shut him up. Finally, you grabbed the bottle and poured, slapping the glass into his hand with a little more force than was probably necessary.

“There”, you said, your tone sharp. “Enjoy”.

Ben raised the glass, swirling the wine with an exaggerated flourish. “Cheers, sweetheart”, he said, his grin widening. “To my first and last glass of this shit”.

He took a sip, his expression immediately souring. “Yep”, he said, setting the glass down on the counter with a clink. “Tastes like regret. You actually drink this crap, or is this just for decoration?”.

You couldn’t help it—a laugh escaped, despite yourself. “It’s not that bad”, you said, smirking at the way he was glaring at the glass like it had personally insulted him.

“Not that bad?”, Ben repeated, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, life’s too short to drink wine. Let me guess—you don’t even have a bottle of Jack around here, do you?”.

“Nope”, you said, crossing your arms again. “Like I said, I don’t keep whiskey for uninvited guests”.

Ben grinned, leaning in closer. “Guess I’ll have to bring my own next time”.

The implication hung in the air, bold and deliberate, and you felt your cheeks flush. “Who says there’s gonna be a next time?”, you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Ben just smirked, his green eyes glittering with mischief. “Oh, there’ll be a next time”, he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Trust me”.

And damn it, the worst part was that some small, traitorous part of you wanted to believe him.

Ben leaned in closer, his towering frame dominating the small space of your kitchen. His voice dropped to a low whisper, smooth and teasing, as his gaze shamelessly dropped to your chest, lingering in a way that was anything but subtle.

"So tell me", he murmured, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk as his eyes flicked back up to meet yours. "How do you handle these?".

He licked his lips slowly, like he was savoring the thought, and you felt your breath hitch despite yourself. The heat of his gaze was tangible, burning through the fabric of your too-tight top, and you could feel the tension crackling in the air like static electricity.

Your cheeks flared hot with indignation, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. "Excuse me?", you said sharply, crossing your arms over your chest once more, as if that might block his view.

Ben chuckled, unbothered by your tone—or by anything, it seemed. He leaned one elbow on the counter, his posture casual, but his grin was wolfish. "Come on, sweetheart", he drawled. "You walk around with those—", he gestured vaguely toward your cleavage, "—and you’re telling me you don’t notice the way every guy looks at you? Hell, I can’t even blame them. They’re… impressive".

Your jaw tightened, and you glared at him, trying to channel all the irritation you felt into your voice. "You’re unbelievable", you snapped. "Do you seriously talk to every woman like this, or am I just lucky?".

Ben shrugged, the motion impossibly smug. "Only the ones who can handle it", he said, his grin widening. "And you, sweetheart, you’ve got fire. Makes me wanna push a little, see how far you’ll go".

You were seething now, but his words sparked something else beneath the surface—something you didn’t want to acknowledge. You’d dealt with his cocky comments before, but the way he looked at you now, like he was imagining exactly what he’d do if you let him, sent a shiver down your spine.

"Push all you want", you shot back, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. "You’ll find out real quick I’m not like those other women who swoon every time you flash that stupid grin".

Ben’s smirk softened into something darker, more deliberate, and his voice dropped even lower. "Oh, sweetheart", he said, his eyes locked onto yours. "I already know you’re not like the others. That’s why you’re so damn fun".

The air between you felt impossibly thick, the tension humming like a live wire. He was standing so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent filling your senses.

"Tell you what", he said, his voice smooth as honey but laced with that familiar edge of cockiness. "You pour me another glass of that fucking awful wine, and I’ll stop staring at your tits". He paused, his smirk turning downright wicked. "For at least five minutes".

You wanted to yell at him, to throw him out of your apartment and slam the door in his face. But instead, you grabbed the wine bottle and poured, your hand steady despite the fire simmering in your chest.

"Five minutes", you said, sliding the glass across the counter toward him. "That’s all you’re getting".

Ben chuckled, lifting the glass in a mock toast. "Deal", he said, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. "But don’t blame me if I break it".

The five minutes turned into ten, then twenty, and before you knew it, you were pouring from a second bottle of wine. The two of you hadn’t even left the kitchen. Ben leaned against the counter like he belonged there, his grin widening with every teasing jab and witty comment you threw his way. To your surprise—and mild annoyance—you were actually enjoying yourself. The tension that had been crackling between you all evening hadn’t disappeared; if anything, it had grown thicker, heavier, like a storm waiting to break.

“You know”, Ben said, swirling the wine in his glass like it was whiskey, his voice low and drawling, “you’re a lot more fun than you let on, sweetheart. All that fire, all those little comebacks… you’ve got a hell of a bite”.

You smirked, taking another sip of your wine. The alcohol had loosened your tongue, making you bolder. “And here I thought a big bad supe like you couldn’t handle a girl with a backbone”.

Ben barked out a laugh, setting his glass down on the counter. “Handle? Sweetheart, I live for it. Most people don’t have the guts to talk back to me. You, though…”. His eyes raked over you, lingering for just a second too long. “You’re something else”.

You rolled your eyes, pretending his words didn’t send a jolt of heat through you. “Is that your idea of a compliment?”, you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m not impressed”.

Ben’s grin turned downright wicked, and he stepped closer, invading your space with an ease that made your heart race. “Oh, I think you’re a little impressed”, he said, his voice dipping lower. “I mean, look at you—two bottles in, still here with me. If you really hated me that much, you’d have kicked me out by now”.

Your jaw tightened, but before you could fire back, he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against the hem of your top. The move was casual, almost absentminded, but his fingers lingered, teasing the fabric like he was testing your reaction.

“Speaking of backbone”, he said, his tone shifting to something darker, more deliberate. “This little thing can’t be doing much to support these”. His eyes flicked down to your chest, and then back up, locking onto yours with a gaze that was equal parts cocky and predatory.

Your breath caught, and your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could go any further. “Ben”, you warned, your voice low but unsteady.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his lips curling into a slow smirk. “What?”, he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Am I wrong?”.

Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, the wine-fueled heat bubbling inside you erupted. “You’re impossible”, you muttered, and the next thing you knew, you were shoving him—not hard, but enough to make a point.

Ben laughed, catching himself against the counter, but instead of backing off, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward him with a surprising amount of force. His other hand went straight to the hem of your top, and in one swift, fluid motion, he tugged it over your head, leaving you standing there in your bra.

“Ben!”, you gasped, your cheeks flaming.

"You’ve been teasing me all day, sweetheart. Figured it was time I got a better look”, he grinned, completely unrepentant, his eyes dropping shamelessly to your chest.

You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him, but he just leaned back, his gaze burning into you. “Damn”, he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Even better than I thought”.

The tension between you was unbearable now, thick and electric, and you weren’t sure whether you wanted to slap him or—well, do something else entirely. Ben seemed to sense it too, his grin softening just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“So”, he said, his voice dropping into a whisper as he stepped closer again, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. “You gonna kick me out now? Or are we finally gonna stop pretending we don’t want the same thing?”.

The air between you felt hotter, heavier, and his gaze dipped again to your chest, lingering there shamelessly.

Your breath hitched as his hand moved to hover just near the edge of your bra strap. His fingers didn’t touch it yet, but the heat of them against your skin was enough to make your pulse quicken. You tried to steel yourself, to glare at him like you always did, but his words, his tone—it was all so… intense.

“Ben”, you said, your voice shaky but firm. “Back off. Now”.

But Ben didn’t move away. If anything, he stepped even closer, his broad frame towering over you, his green eyes dark with something primal. “Back off?”, he echoed, his lips twitching into a wicked grin. “You sure about that, sweetheart? Because you’ve been making this real hard for me all night—literally”.

Your eyes flicked down instinctively—his words leaving little to the imagination—and he laughed, low and deep. “Yeah, that’s what I thought”, he said, his confidence only growing. His hand lifted, his knuckles brushing lightly, teasingly, against the curve of your cleavage.

“Fucking shit”, he muttered, almost to himself. “These… I mean, I knew they’d be good, but seeing them up close? Sweetheart, they’re fucking perfect”.

Your face burned, and your hand shot up to shove him away, but he caught your wrist easily, his grip firm but not painful. “Oh, no”, he said, his voice dropping an octave. “You don’t get to hide now. Not after teasing me like this. You think I didn’t notice the way that little uniform clung to you every time I walked into the diner? Or how you cross your arms just high enough to—”. His thumb brushed lightly against the swell of your breast, and you inhaled sharply. “Yeah. Exactly”.

“Ben”, you said again, this time quieter, though you weren’t sure if it was a warning or something else entirely.

His smirk softened slightly, but his eyes never left yours. “Relax, sweetheart”, he said, his voice low and soothing, though the hunger in his gaze hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. “These—”, his hand finally settled just under the edge of your bra, the pads of his fingers brushing against the soft fabric, “—are driving me fucking insane. You know, I like them big".

The admission was so brazen, so shameless, it left you speechless. He chuckled at your stunned expression, his other hand sliding along your waist, his fingers curling just slightly against your skin. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he murmured.

You swallowed hard, torn between fury and something you didn’t want to name. His thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle just above the fabric of your bra, his touch featherlight but maddeningly deliberate. He was testing you, pushing you, and the worst part was that you weren’t stopping him.

“Just say the word”m he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But if you don’t…”. He let the sentence hang, his fingers inching just a little higher, grazing the edge of the fabric.

Your heart was pounding, and every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire. He was insufferable, arrogant, and completely out of line. But the way he looked at you, the way he touched you—it was consuming, overwhelming, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to stop him.

And Ben, always the bold one, seemed to know exactly how much power he had in this moment. "So", he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, "what's it gonna be, sweetheart?".

Ben's grin widened when you didn’t pull away or tell him to stop. The heat in his gaze turned molten as if your silence was all the confirmation he needed. Without hesitation, his large, rough hand caught yours, holding it firmly but not unkindly. His other hand moved to his belt, undoing the thick, gold clasp of his supe suit with practiced ease, the sound of metal clinking filling the tension-filled air.

Before you could even process what was happening, he pushed your hand inside the waistband of his pants, guiding your palm to lay flat against the heated, throbbing length of him. Your breath hitched sharply, and your fingers instinctively flexed, brushing against him. He hissed through his teeth at the contact, his grip tightening on your hand as if to keep you there.

“Fuck”, he growled low in his throat, his voice rough with need. “You feel that, sweetheart? That’s what you do to me”. His hips shifted just slightly, pressing himself harder against your palm. The sheer size and heat of him were overwhelming, and despite yourself, your hand twitched again, drawing another guttural sound from him.

His other hand didn’t stay idle. It slid up your back, deftly finding the clasp of your bra. The snap of it coming undone was almost deafening in the charged silence of the room. He pulled the straps from your shoulders with deliberate slowness, his calloused fingers brushing against your bare skin and sending shivers down your spine.

“Shit”, he murmured, his voice thick with admiration as he let the bra fall to the floor. His hand moved to cup your now-exposed breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. “Even better than I imagined”, he muttered, his green eyes dark and heavy-lidded as they drank in the sight of you. “Fucking perfect”.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat when his thumb circled your nipple, sending a jolt of sensation straight through you. His grin grew, cocky and triumphant, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “That little gasp?”, he murmured. “Music to my fucking ears”.

Still holding your hand firmly against him, he began to move it, guiding your touch along the length of him, slow and deliberate. “You feel how hard I am for you?”, he asked, his voice husky, tinged with raw desire. “That’s all you, sweetheart”.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His words, his touch, the sheer presence of him—it was all too much, and yet not enough. Every nerve in your body was on fire, every ounce of your self-control teetering on the edge.

“Tell me to stop”, he said again, his voice low but firm, his hand still guiding yours as his thumb teased your nipple. “Say the word, sweetheart, and I’ll back off. But if you don’t…". His lips brushed against your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re mine tonight”.

Your hesitation didn’t go unnoticed, but it wasn’t long before your fingers started to move—tentative, unsure at first, but enough to draw a sharp, satisfied hiss from Ben. His hand flexed around yours briefly before letting go, allowing you to stroke him at your own pace.

His fingers pinched your nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his thumb and forefinger with a roughness that made your breath hitch. “That’s it”, he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, vibrating with approval. “Good girl. Just like that”.

Before you could fully process his words—or the way they made your stomach twist with something both infuriating and exhilarating—his hands were on your hips, lifting you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter. The cool surface pressed against the backs of your thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off him as he stepped between your legs.

Ben didn’t waste any time. His hands moved to your chest, cupping both of your breasts with an almost reverent hunger. His thumbs dragged across your nipples, teasing the already sensitive peaks as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your skin.

“Damn it", he muttered, his eyes fixed on your chest as though it was the most captivating thing he’d ever seen. “These… Fuck sweetheart. You’ve been hiding these from me all this time?”. He let out a low, almost feral groan, his hands squeezing your breasts gently before his mouth descended on one of your nipples.

The moment his lips wrapped around the sensitive peak, sucking firmly, you felt a sharp jolt of pleasure that made you gasp. His tongue flicked against you, slow and deliberate, sending waves of sensation coursing through your body. He groaned deeply, the vibration of it against your skin making you squirm, and his hands tightened on your breasts, kneading them as though he couldn’t get enough.

“Perfect”, he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but laced with raw need. “Fucking perfect”. He switched to your other nipple, giving it the same attention, his teeth grazing lightly before his tongue soothed the sting. His groans deepened as he sucked harder, his hands squeezing and molding your breasts as though they were made for him.

“This”, he said between licks and sucks, his voice breathless and rough. “This right here? This is what drives me crazy. Big, soft, perfect tits. Fuck. And yours…” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and filled with something primal. “Yours are fucking unreal”.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. His mouth on you, his hands kneading and teasing—it was overwhelming in the best way. Every nerve in your body was on fire, and the way he worshipped your chest with his hands and mouth sent your mind spinning.

Ben pulled back for just a moment, his lips glistening as he smirked up at you. “I could stay right here all night”, he murmured, his hands still massaging your breasts, his thumbs brushing your nipples. “Sucking these perfect tits of yours, hearing you moan like that. You like it, don’t you, sweetheart? You like how much I’m into these”.

You didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. Instead, you reached for him, pulling him closer, and the cocky grin on his face turned triumphant as he lowered his head again, his mouth latching onto you with renewed intensity.

Ben's mouth was relentless, his lips and tongue working over your sensitive nipple as though he were starved for the taste of you. The low, guttural groans he let out against your skin sent vibrations rippling through your body, making you arch into him. His hands, however, weren’t content to stay idle.

While his mouth stayed latched to your chest, one hand moved with deliberate purpose, sliding down to the waistband of your jeans. You gasped as his fingers deftly unbuttoned them, the sharp pop of the button lost in the haze of heat and sensation. His hand tugged at the fabric, pulling your jeans down over your hips in one smooth, impatient motion, taking your panties along with them.

You squirmed on the counter, trying to adjust to the sudden exposure, but Ben wasn’t giving you a moment to collect yourself. His mouth was still firmly on your nipple, his teeth grazing it lightly before his tongue soothed the sting. The combination of pleasure and roughness made your breath hitch audibly, and he pulled back just enough to look up at you, his lips curling into a wicked grin.

“Sensitive, huh?”, he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, thick with desire. “I like that”.

Before you could respond, his free hand moved between your legs, cupping you possessively. The roughness of his palm against your bare pussy made you gasp, and his grin widened at your reaction. He didn’t move his hand yet, just held it there, his fingers brushing lightly against you as his thumb circled idly along your inner thigh.

“You’re already so fucking wet”, he murmured, his tone somewhere between teasing and awe. His lips returned to your other nipple, sucking firmly as his fingers began to explore, slow and deliberate, teasing just enough to drive you mad. “All this from a little attention to these perfect tits, huh? Sweetheart, you’re too fucking good to be true”.

His words, his tone, his touch—it was all too much. His fingers slid against you, finding your most sensitive spot with infuriating precision, and he chuckled darkly as your body jerked in response.

“Fuck”, he muttered against your skin, his lips still working over your nipple. “You feel so good, sweetheart. So soft, so warm. Bet you’d feel even better clenching around me”.

His grin was pure arrogance, but the way his fingers teased you left no doubt—he was going to make good on every filthy promise in his eyes.

Ben didn’t give you time to answer. His mouth found your nipple again, sucking hard enough to draw a moan from your lips while his fingers worked you with a skill that had your head spinning. He wasn’t just teasing anymore; he was taking his time exploring every reaction he could pull from you, his rough, calloused touch a sharp contrast to the way his tongue rolled over the sensitive peak of your breast.

“God, you’re so responsive”, he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. “It’s like your body was made for me”.

His hand between your legs pressed more firmly, his fingers sliding through your wetness with a groan that sounded almost guttural. “Look at you”, he muttered, pulling back just long enough to meet your gaze, his smirk replaced with something more primal. “So wet for me. Fuck, sweetheart, you’ve been driving me crazy for weeks, and now… now I’ve got you exactly where I want you”.

He slid a finger inside you, slow but deliberate, and you couldn’t help the sharp gasp that escaped your lips. His mouth returned to your chest, sucking and nipping at your nipple as his finger moved, curling slightly to find the perfect spot. He chuckled against your skin as your hips bucked against his hand, your body reacting on instinct.

“That’s it”, he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Let me feel you. Show me how much you like it”.

He added a second finger, thrusting into you slowly at first, then with more confidence as he felt your body respond. His thumb found your most sensitive spot, circling it with just enough pressure to make your legs tremble.

“All this”, he said, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, “just from my hands. Can you imagine what it’s gonna feel like when I finally give you all of me?”.

You didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. Your breath came in short gasps, your mind clouded by the overwhelming sensations he was pulling from you.

“You’re mine tonight, sweetheart”, he whispered, his voice a low growl. “And I’m gonna make damn sure you don’t forget it”.

With a single, decisive movement, Ben’s large hand pressed against your stomach, guiding you back onto the kitchen island. The cool surface sent a shiver up your spine as it met your overheated skin, and your legs dangled helplessly off the edge, his sheer strength keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

He towered over you, his cocky grin sharper now, a predatory gleam in his green eyes as he admired the view in front of him. “Look at you”, he muttered, his voice low and rough, filled with unfiltered hunger. “Spread out for me like you were made for this”.

Before you could gather your wits to respond, Ben moved with swift precision, his hands going to his pants. He shoved them down without hesitation, the material of his supe suit pooling at his thighs. When he finally freed himself, your breath caught in your throat.

He was big—thicker and longer than you’d expected, his cock hard and already flushed with arousal. It stood proud, twitching slightly as if straining for you, and the sight alone was enough to make your heart race. He caught your expression, his grin widening into something shamelessly smug.

He stepped closer, the heat of his body overwhelming as he loomed over you, his free hand sliding down to your thigh. His grip was firm, rough, as he spread your legs wider, making room for himself between them. He didn’t rush—he wanted you to see everything, to feel every second of anticipation building like a firestorm inside you.

Ben dragged the tip of his cock against you, groaning deeply at the contact. “Fuck”, he muttered, his eyes darkening as he watched the way your body reacted to him. “So wet, so ready. You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”.

You opened your mouth to retort, but any words you might have had were stolen the moment he pushed forward, pressing just the tip of himself inside you. The stretch was immediate, intense, his size forcing you to take a deep breath as your body adjusted. He growled low in his throat, his fingers gripping your thighs tightly as he held himself there for a moment.

“Feel that?”, he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “That’s just the start, sweetheart. You’re gonna feel every inch of me, and you’re gonna take it like the good girl I know you are”.

Without waiting for a response, Ben pushed further, sinking into you inch by inch with a roughness that had your back arching off the counter. His hands held you firmly in place, his strength undeniable as he buried himself inside you, groaning deeply when he finally bottomed out.

“Fuck”, he growled, his head dropping for a moment as he fought to regain control. “So tight, so perfect. You’re squeezing me like you don’t want me to leave".

Ben’s groan deepened as he thrust fully into you, his hips flush against yours. His large hand splayed across your stomach, his palm pressing firmly against the soft skin just above your belly button. His eyes darkened as he stilled for a moment, letting the intensity of the moment settle between you.

“Fuck”, he muttered, almost to himself, his voice low and thick with awe. His hand flexed slightly, pressing into your stomach, and his cock twitched inside you, buried to the hilt.

His hips moved again, drawing back just enough to thrust forward, slow but deliberate. His eyes never left yours, and his hand stayed firmly in place, feeling every inch of himself as he filled you. The way his cock moved inside you, the way his hand pressed against your stomach to feel his own movements, was overwhelming—intimate in a way that sent heat coursing through your entire body.

“Do you feel that?”, he rasped, his voice rough and breathless. His hand pressed down again, emphasizing the sensation. “That’s all me, sweetheart. Deep inside you, stretching you, filling you. You’re taking all of me”.

His hand stayed on your stomach, his palm rough and unyielding as he pressed harder, clearly enthralled by the sensation of his cock moving inside you. His thrusts were slow but deliberate, each one forcing you to take him fully, and the slight wince that escaped your lips only seemed to spur him on.

“Too much for you?”, he asked, though the smirk on his face said he already knew the answer. “Yeah, you’re feeling all of me now, aren’t you? My dick’s got you squirming, huh?”.

You tried to glare at him, but your breath hitched again as he thrust even deeper, the strength behind each movement a stark reminder of just how powerful he was. Your body arched beneath him, your legs trembling as he set a relentless pace, his cock pressing against every sensitive spot inside you.

Ben’s attention shifted to your chest, his free hand sliding up to cup one of your bouncing breasts. “Look at these”, he muttered, his thumb brushing over your nipple as it peaked from the movement. “Fucking perfect. Watching them bounce while I fuck you—fuck, sweetheart, it’s like you’re made for me”.

His hips snapped harder, making the counter beneath you creak slightly, and you let out a sharp gasp, your hands gripping the edges of the kitchen island for stability. The combination of his hand pressing against your stomach and the sight of his cock disappearing into you with every thrust was overwhelming, a heady mixture of pleasure and the faintest edge of pain from the sheer force of him.

Ben's focus honed in on your chest again, his green eyes dark and filled with raw hunger.

He leaned down, his mouth finding your nipple again, sucking hard enough to make you cry out. His teeth grazed the sensitive peak before his tongue flicked over it. The dual sensations—the roughness of his mouth and the deep, relentless thrusts of his hips—sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your back arching off the cool surface of the counter.

"You’re close, aren’t you?", he murmured against your skin, his lips moving to your other breast. His thumb slid down, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, adding another layer of sensation that made your thighs tremble. "I can feel it, the way you’re clenching around me. You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? Gonna let me feel it".

You whimpered, your nails digging into the edge of the counter as the tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter. Ben growled against your skin, his lips wrapping around your nipple again as his fingers worked you, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, hitting just the right spot with a precision that left you breathless.

"Come on", he muttered, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me feel it, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart while I’m buried inside you".

His words, his touch, the relentless way he worshipped your chest—it all pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His teeth grazed your nipple again, and the sharp, pleasurable sting was the final push you needed. Your body tensed, your head falling back as the orgasm tore through you, every nerve in your body lighting up with overwhelming sensation.

Ben groaned deeply, feeling the way your body clenched and pulsed around him. His hand pressed harder against your stomach, emphasizing the intensity of it, and his hips slowed slightly, grinding against you to draw it out as long as possible.

"Fuck", he muttered, his voice filled with awe as he pulled back just enough to watch your face. His hand still kneaded your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple as you trembled beneath him. "That’s it, sweetheart. So fucking beautiful when you come".

Ben’s breathing was ragged, his thrusts slowing but no less deliberate as he pushed you to the brink of overstimulation, but then he suddenly pulled back, his cock slipping out of you. You barely had a moment to react before his strong hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter.

"Stay right there", he growled, his voice low and commanding, as he adjusted your position. Before you could protest—or catch your breath—he hooked an arm under your waist, lifting you effortlessly, leaving your legs dangling off the counter while your back pressed against the cool surface.

With one hand firmly supporting you, his other hand dropped to himself, stroking his thick, throbbing cock with a rough, practiced motion. The sight of him, his broad chest heaving, his jaw tight with restraint, and his green eyes blazing as he looked down at you, left you utterly breathless.

“Fuck”, he groaned, his grip tightening as his strokes became faster. “You’re a fucking dream, sweetheart".

You tried to steady your breathing, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your body still trembled from your orgasm. But Ben wasn’t done. His hand shifted its grip on your waist, pulling you just a little higher so that your chest was perfectly positioned in front of him. His gaze was fixed there, dark and hungry, as he stroked himself harder, his hips bucking slightly into his own hand.

With a low, guttural groan, he finally tipped over the edge. His hand tightened around himself as he came, thick, hot ropes spilling out, painting your chest in a way that made his breath hitch. His groan turned into a growl, his grip on your waist tightening as he held you steady, his other hand pumping himself through every last pulse.

"Fuck, sweetheart"m he rasped, his eyes fixed on the mess he’d made of you, your tits glistening as you lay sprawled out on the counter. “That’s a fucking sight”.

You blinked up at him, still catching your breath, your body limp against his hold. His chest was heaving as he slowly released his grip on himself, his hand sliding back to your waist to hold you securely. His thumb brushed against your skin, a small, almost tender gesture that contrasted with the intensity of what had just happened.

Ben pulled back, his smirk widening as he watched you struggle to regain your composure. Gently but firmly, he set you on your feet, his large hands gripping your waist to steady you. The moment your feet touched the ground, your knees buckled, unable to support you after the intensity of what had just happened.

He caught you instantly, one arm slipping around your waist, holding you up effortlessly. His cocky grin didn’t falter for a second as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Careful there, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Didn’t mean to wear you out that much”.

You couldn’t respond—your breath was still coming in short gasps, your body trembling in his grasp. Your legs felt like jelly, and your mind was a haze of pleasure, heat, and disbelief. You barely registered his hand moving to your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

Ben’s smirk grew wider as he took in your disheveled state—your chest still glistening from him, your legs trembling, your face flushed with heat. He kept his arm firmly around your waist, holding you steady, but his free hand drifted down to brush lightly against the mess he’d made on your chest.

“You might wanna clean this up”, he murmured, his tone dripping with teasing arrogance, his thumb smearing a line across your skin. His eyes followed the motion, dark and hungry, like he was admiring his own handiwork. “Can’t have you walking around like this, sweetheart".

Your breath hitched, and your cheeks flared with fresh embarrassment. “You’re unbelievable”, you managed to mutter, your voice still shaky but laced with irritation. You swatted his hand away, but the smug look on his face didn’t waver for a second.

“What?”, he asked innocently, his grin turning downright wicked. “Just stating the obvious. Though…”. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Part of me likes the idea of you keeping it. Little reminder of who you belong to now”.

Your stomach flipped at his words, and you clenched your jaw, refusing to let him see how much he was getting under your skin. “You’re a real piece of work”, you shot back, your voice gaining a little more strength.

Ben chuckled low, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he watched you with that insufferable smirk plastered across his face. His hand moved lower, sliding down your back with deliberate slowness until it reached the curve of your ass. Without warning, he gave it a firm pinch, making you yelp and swat at his hand.

"Hey!", you snapped, spinning around to glare at him, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Thought you might need a little reminder to be more grateful”, he said, feigning innocence, his hand lingering dangerously close to where it had just been.

You rolled your eyes. “Grateful? For what, exactly?”.

He leaned in again, that cocky grin widening as his lips brushed against your ear. “For me”, he murmured, his voice dripping with arrogance. “For the ride, the fun, and that little gift on your chest. Figured I’d at least get a ‘thank you’, but no. Instead, I get sass”.

You huffed, trying to pull yourself together despite the way your body still trembled from him. “You don’t deserve a thank you for that”, you shot back, though your voice wasn’t nearly as steady as you’d hoped.

Ben’s hand slid back up to your waist, pulling you closer so your bodies were pressed together. The heat of him was overwhelming, and the mischievous glint in his eyes made your stomach flip. “Oh, I think I do, sweetheart”, he said, his grin turning wicked. “I think I deserve a lot more than a thank you, after the way I just made you scream”.

Your cheeks burned hotter, and you shoved lightly at his chest, trying to put some space between you. “You’re insufferable”, you muttered, but he didn’t budge.

Ben chuckled again, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned down to look you square in the eye. “And you fucking enjoying it”, he said simply, his confidence unshakable. His thumb brushed over your hip, sending a shiver through you despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Now, come on, sweetheart. Be a good girl and say it”.

You glared at him, lips pressed into a thin line, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Still nothing?”, he teased, tilting his head. His grin widened, and his hand slid lower again, giving your ass another playful squeeze. “Guess I’ll just have to try harder to earn it then”.

Your breath caught, and his laughter followed you as you tried to pull yourself together. But the heat of his touch and the intensity of his gaze made it clear: Ben wasn’t done with you yet.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

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[zepskies]

A SIMPLE TOUCH

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader

Summary: Annie still has reservations about Ben, and you dating him for that matter…until she sees it.

AN: Surprise drabble! Dipping back into the BMD-verse for a sec. Chronologically, it's set sometime after In the Dark.

Prompt from @lifeonawhim: The reader is physically affectionate. (BMD) Ben sees this, tries to give her that comfort, and it just surprises everyone—how Ben is a source of comfort for her, even though he’s quite literally the strongest man.

Originally posted on Patreon: 1/01/25

Word Count: 600

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Break Me Down Masterlist

Annie was loyal to a fault. For that reason, she was still skeptical about Soldier Boy—about Ben, even after Vought Tower collapsed.

You might’ve been living with him now, but that didn’t mean he was safe, or even a good enough man for you.

She watched you closely in concern while the team filed onto the small private plane. It was set to take you all from northern Pennsylvania back down to New York. You weren’t injured, but in a way, you were still walking wounded.

The rogue supe that the Supe Affairs team was called in to catch had destroyed an office building. You, M.M., and Frenchie had saved a handful of people while Ben and the rest of the team handled the supe. But a young woman slipped right through your fingers off a balcony, falling to the pavement from three stories high.

You still remembered the look of shock cross her face. It was frozen there, even after her body lay prone on the cement. Her blue eyes, perfect mirrors of didn’t see that coming.

That was the picture you couldn’t get out of your head.

Now, you were moving slow, your face tired and drawn. Annie was about to ask if you were okay, even though she knew the answer full well.

Ben reached out his hand to you first. He was ahead of you in the aisle, having put his carry-on bag and yours in the overhead bin. You looked at his hand, and then up at him.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, his voice deep and steady. It steadied you, along with his hand around yours. He guided you not into the seat next to him, but onto his lap. By now he’d changed out of his suit, leaving him in jeans and a dark gray sweater you picked out for him, rolled up to his elbows.

Annie sat with Hughie across the aisle, but she had you and Ben in the corner of her eye. She marveled at the way he was holding you, seeming to know you needed the contact. With a sigh, you allowed yourself to lay against his chest while his warm hand ran up and down your back. A simple touch was all you needed to relax in his arms.

“Don’t mind me. Just gonna sleep for about ten years,” you murmured against his chest. You laid a hand over his heart, silently thanking him as your fingers drifted back and forth.

Ben’s lips quirked upwards. “Just try not to drool on me. New shirt, you know.”

Despite yourself, that managed to make you smile, huffing a laugh. You shoved his shoulder in retaliation. “I don’t drool.”

He knew for a fact that you did, but he just smirked. He sunk his fingers into your hair and inhaled the familiar floral scent of your shampoo.

“Get some shut-eye,” he rumbled. “We’ll be home soon.”

His thumb brushed your cheek, encouraging you to rest. So you did. Your eyes closed on you after you let go of a deep, even breath.

In the grand scheme of things, it was a nothing moment. This was a man who had crumbled two skyscrapers and scarred Hughie for life. (He’d never be able to listen to Air Supply again, pretty much for as long as he lived.)

And yet, maybe it meant Annie could stop worrying so much about your judgment where Ben was concerned.

Only much later, she would realize that this was the moment she actually started to trust him.

AN: I want to get back into BMD world for a longer visit, hopefully soon. 💚💚

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Next in line, we have a fun, fluffy, angsty, smutty, 3-part Christmas special, Love Actually:

Summary: Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system. At least, you hope you can, before he meets the rest of your dysfunctional family on Christmas Day.

▶️ Next Story: Love Actually

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[bluemerakis]

────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ────

❝ feelin’ fuckin’ fantastic ❞

part i/iii

read part ii here

─ ۶ৎ ─

pairing ୨୧ soldier boy x fem!supe!reader — how they met

warnings .ᐟ cussing, angst, masturbation m receiving, let me know if I’ve forgotten any!

synopsis ─ after the love of your life—soldier boy—is kidnapped by the russians, you strike a deal to work under them as a scientist so that you could keep tabs on your boyfriend. over the years, you managed to make modifications to compound v as per the russians’ orders, so that soldier boy could receive the treatments and be remade in a far greater image than any other living supe—a biological weapon. but it all comes to and end when you make contact with a strange group and conspire to get yourself and him out of dodge.

word count ~ 6.8k

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“He’s ready for you.”

Those very words crept past the nape of your neck to caress your ear as a warm breath, yet you felt the way it instilled chills down the expanse of your spine, whisking your attention away from one of the lab assistants you’d been checking stock with. You placed an apologetic hand on her shoulder, braving a thin-lipped smile as you excused yourself and handed her the clipboard of listed supplies.

“Take care of that for me, will you?” You murmured kindly, to which the assistant relieved you of the board with a meek of course, and you thanked her hastily before sending her on her way.

Turning to face the bearer of bad news, you were confronted by the guard you’d tasked with pulling Soldier Boy from his induced coma. Immediately, your attention snagged onto the faint trail of blood smudged above the curve of his upper-lip. It formed an incomplete line that told you he’d attempted to obliterate the evidence of his known temper with a hasty swipe of his thumb—but more so, it told you that Soldier Boy was in one of his fouler moods today.

The Supe was quite physically capable of inflicting more damage whenever he pleased, but his compulsive urge to do so only surfaced on his worser days—which seemed to be growing more frequent.

All courtesy of the godsent fucking side effects of induced sleep.

The technology was still so new despite being in use for these last couple of years, and hence you hadn’t been able to successfully map out any tangible links between behavioural alterations and manual arousal of the brain—you only knew that it happened. The how was as good a guess as anybody’s.

“Trouble?” you asked the guard pointedly, the hand at your side making a subconscious reach for your lab coat as you throttled the white material in anticipation.

You didn’t know why you still bothered to ask, really, when the answer to that singular question had always been the same. You couldn’t have Soldier Boy without the trouble. They were the sort of two-for-one special that you couldn’t have said no to—but at what cost?

The guard rolled his shoulders with a husk of embarrassment as he spoke, drawing your attention back to him. “You know the prick,” he grumbled, averting his gaze to acquaint every aspect of the hallway other than your own expectant stare. “He’s on some of the crazy shit today. . . jumped me and decided to lay one on me after we put him in the room—but don’t worry, I put him in his place.”

“Uh huh,” you murmured distractedly, your attention slipping past his figure to tune into the door that loomed like a menacing figure at the end of the facility’s pristine hallway.

The reinforced steel frame adorned with high-tech locks all along the perimeter could identify itself as Soldier Boy’s door—because who else could possibly warrant such caution within this secret facility?

Truthfully, you’d allowed the guard’s explanation to slip through your care entirely. You had bigger things on your mind—for one, what sort of greeting you could expect from Soldier Boy this time around. The induced sleep has been rough on his brain. It made him feral at times—made him blindly lash out like a rabid animal of prey. And he wasn’t notorious for restraint, either—god forbid or you’d have never had to expel the name Herogasm from your waking mind.

“If you’ll excuse me.” You brushed past the guard to put an end to the suspense you felt inevitably building at the idea of seeing Soldier Boy again—after all this time. Your fingertips seemed to tremble in solidarity.

“I’ll come with you,” the guard insisted, and the unpleasant screech of his heavy duty boots followed shortly after as he pivoted on his heels to follow.

“No, I’m going in alone,” you called over your shoulder without so much as a glance to spare.

“Well, be careful!” the guard called to the back of your rushing figure. “He’s wilder today—not using a single goddamn braincell!”

Seems to be the common trend around here, you thought, birthing a mental scoff. Men. The last thing you needed was to add another twig to the fire by bringing along the guard Soldier Boy had already popped one on. He’d gone easy on the guard, you knew him well enough to deduce that, but it also meant that the flimsy punch responsible for the bloodstain above that guard’s lip was merely a promise for a truer beating somewhere down the line. That time would not be now—not if you could help it.

You hurled a dismissive hand over your shoulder that told the guard not to worry—a gesture to brush aside his concerns, but also to hopefully coerce away yours. If you wanted to feel braver, maybe a good place to start would be to act as though there was no reason to feel scared.

Would Soldier Boy hurt you?

You couldn’t help but lift a hand to ghost across your neck for a few seconds before lowering your hand back to your side.

The door that would give sure way to that nagging question seemed to grow with each passing second as you closed in on it, and when you came face to face with the worn, thick steel, the breath in your chest stilled. Your gaze lowered along the various locks, which had been left unlatched—not a bad finding, surely, if it meant he was tame enough to temporarily forsake the extra security. That thought gave permission to your lungs to breathe as per usual.

But when you really tried to listen, head slightly turning to tune in your hearing, you could make out a cluster of grunting and thudding from beyond the six inches of steel. It wasn’t a finding that eased away the dread your fingertips so insistently clung to—you’d hoped for an entirely different scenario.

Fuck, you cussed internally, taking your lower lip into a frustrated bite, before you decided to push through the anticipative haze by fastening your hand around the door’s handle.

You pushed the door open, your vision bombed by the blaring, overhead lights that beat down on the even whiter room. You’d always thought the room had been purposefully modelled to convey the impression of a void—it was no wonder the test subjects often went insane in here. The room swallowed up your senses for a moment, and you fluttered your eyes in an attempt to adjust to the blinding air before you came to focus on Soldier Boy’s figure in the centre of the stage.

He lay plastered along the length of a reinforced operating table, fist-drawn hands sentenced to his side by thick, steel-linked chains. There were a few sets to match, which secured his torso and legs to the table, intended to immobilise him as best as possible—but Soldier Boy seemed determined to test out the limitations of their purpose as he thrashed vigorously between the fortifying steel, guttural sounds filling the silence of the room.

He only laid the effort to rest when his head lifted from the table with a grunt, and his eyes fell onto your familiar figure. His sudden calmness seemed to ease off the four guards lining the table—their weapons long since drawn as a show of force, and a promise of death, should the subject make a successful escape.

Your airways thinned as you caught Soldier Boy’s stare, the rage that framed his eyes simmering into a semblance of relief as he drank in your presence.

He called your name. Your name.

Your lips parted as a slight breath of disbelief pierced its way through—forced from your lungs by the sudden jolt in your heart.

“Leave us,” you ordered, your attention lingering on the Supe for a few seconds longer before you broke the mental tether to whisk a hard stare across the idling guards. “Now.”

The guards all exchanged a look that seemed to communicate a shared feeling of doubt, but neither of them wore a pair big enough to outwardly criticise your command. So, hesitantly, they holstered their weapons in practiced sequence, then in complete silence, they streamed from the room in an orderly fashion.

The last one to slip past you lingered at your ear only to murmur, “we’ll be outside to intervene if anything goes wrong.”

Don’t bother, is what you wanted to say—you knew just the way to go about handling Soldier Boy. After all, you’d been doing this for years. But you also knew that this was standard protocol set in place to protect any and all employees—especially when said employee was as valuable as you.

So, instead, you turned your chin slightly to offer the guard an acknowledging nod, which allowed him to slink through the doorway and lug the heavy door closed behind him. The mechanism clicked into place, and it echoed brashly between the four walls of this inspired asylum.

You turned your attention back to Solider Boy, who still had his eyes patiently fixed on you. The hands at his sides had stilled completely, and his body had relaxed against the cold steel of the table, but there was still a tension bracketing his jaw that was yet to release, even at the sight of you.

“The hell was it this time, huh?” His sombre voice dampened the hollow air—you’d almost forgotten how profound the rumble in his throat was, and it tickled your senses in all the right ways. “Three, four months? A year?” He seethed, the muscles of his jaw faltering with great restraint.

“Six months,” you told him levelly, chin lifting slightly as you endured the brunt of the guilt that was evoked under his resentful glare.

You didn’t hold any joy for this procedure—pulling him in and out of an induced sleep throughout the years only to inject him full of experimental compounds that burned him from the inside out. You hated it, almost as much as he did. But that was just the way things had to be—for now, at least. It’s what the Russians had brought you here to do—and funnily enough, it was the only way to keep him safe.

There was a scoff from Soldier Boy, followed by a soft thud as he allowed his head to collapse back onto the metal frame. “Yeah, you’d know. . . fuckin’ stewardess on the sidelines, draped in that goddamn lab coat while they pluck your guinea pig from the greatest fuckin’ nap of his life.”

You let loose a light huff at that, the trembling in your fingertips beginning to slip away at last. “Yeah?” You began moving off to the side of the room where various tables lined the walls, coming to a stop at the nearest one. It was adorned with nothing but a black, sealable case with a label signed sample 246. Your own handwriting. “And what’d you dream about?” You asked, reaching to unclip the case before lifting up the top compartment to reveal what horrors lay inside.

“You.”

Your hands faltered on the case, your chin slightly buckling to take in the view of the table as that singular word bounced about the dark corners of your mind. Suddenly, your breathing sounded a lot louder in your ears, and you managed to catch a slight hitch in your airways.

“What about me?” You pushed on almost timidly—dreading the honest answer to such an open-ended question.

Throughout the years spent in this facility, there were various versions of yourself that you could recall—creatures you’d become in order to endure and survive the brutalities of your work under the Russians. None of those versions had a commendable reputation—not one of them. And that scared you—the thought that Soldier Boy had come to meet so many of those prior versions, and that he might’ve forgotten the one he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. If you were put in front of the mirror, you couldn’t honestly say that you’d recognise yourself, either.

There was a pause from Soldier Boy, and the silence was so loud that your ears began to ring. “Don’t play stupid with me,” he said at last, coupled by the soft clinking of chains against the table.

Instinctively, you glanced over your shoulder with an undertone of panic. But when you took in the view of him, he was still cemented in the same position, and his head was already turned toward you—likely to prowl after your every move like a waiting predator.

“Yeah, that’s right, look at me,” he grinned, but the gesture wasn’t genuine, and it was plucked from his lips quicker than you could blink it away.

“It’s the same dream, every fuckin’ time,” he continued. “Birdsong, all around—god, the fuckers never stick their beaks in the bark. . . Anyways, there’s sun streamin’ in through the windows. And there you are, in my bed, a mewlin’ mess between the sheets with not an inch of modesty anywhere on that fine body of yours. I’ve got you pinned, and I mean really pinned between the sheets—skin’s fuckin’ bruising—and instead of pleadin’ for some sort of release, you’re telling me you love me. Pretty sure I remember the feelin’ of my ballsack puckerin’ up at that.”

A smile crept its way back onto Soldier Boy’s lips as his gaze raked over your stunted expression, and this time, it was founded on blatant curiosity.

“You look surprised,” he remarked, and there was a lot of room for him to poke at any aspect of your reaction, but he held onto his tongue with a practiced calmness. You couldn’t help but feel as though he had some unspoken motive.

You drew in a steadying breath, fighting to control the influx of mental pictures that his dream seemed to coerce into your brain. But it was hard to deny something its rightful place, especially when said dream of his was not a dream at all, but a memory.

Slowly, you turned your head back to the case at hand, focus falling onto the singular needle cushioned within a foam imprint. With one hand, you reached to free the needle, and with the other, you clicked the the case closed again.

“I am surprised,” you admitted, bringing the needle up to your eye line as you studied the blue serum behind the glass.

“Do tell.”

You waited and watched as a bubble soared through the compound to cling to the uppermost point of the vile, then you flicked your finger across the glass to dissipate its fragile skeleton. You lowered the needle and turned to face Soldier Boy, who entertained a mildly curious look on his features.

“This sleep you’ve been under, it’s not exactly. . . well-understood. We’ve hit a few bumps in the road. The worst of the effects has to do with the patient’s cognitive function.”

He scoffed. “What, you mean to tell me I’m goin’ dumb?”

“No,” you answered carefully, taking a few steps toward the table. “It’s your memory. There were times after we’ve woken you where you failed the standard procedure questionnaire—things about your life. . . thing’s that you’ve answered a hundred times before. You should know it all by now—it’s really just there as a sanity ritual. But, like I said, there were times you’ve failed it, and it doesn’t always happen, but it’s becoming more frequent.”

You stopped before the table with a few inches of space to spare, noting the way the confusion on Soldier Boy’s face seemed to deepen with each passing second that you spoke.

“There’s some retrograde effect to it, though,” you continued. “Sometimes, you wake up in a fit state. You’re calm, and you’ve got a memory as best as it’s ever been. . .” You trailed into uncertainty, feeling at war with your role in his current memories.

You knew perfectly well where you stood with him, but you wanted to—needed to know what version of you currently stood with him, and that all banked on just how much his drug-addled brain remembered this time around—details of his life before the sleeping tank, about his purpose, and about his relationship with you.

His brows furrowed as he gazed up at you. “And the other times?” He prompted you to continue.

You cleared your throat self-consciously, your eyes wandering down to the hands chained at his side. “Well, the other times, you wake up explosively, blindly dealing fists faster than the guards can reach for their weapons. You even managed to kill a guard, once.”

“Badass,” he chuckled smoothly, deeply—the familiarity of it tugged at the fibres of your heart. “But don’t you get any ideas about what today’s little skirmish was all about.”

Those words caught you off guard. You tore your gaze away from his knuckles, brows kneading together as you acquainted the mischievous glint in his eyes—those goddamn eyes. A dick move from heaven to give him a feature as beautifully persuasive as that. You couldn’t help but drown in their green depths whenever he sentenced you to a hearty stare, and it’s an ocean you’d never need, nor want rescuing from.

“What’re you on about?” You asked.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t thinkin’ ‘bout that guard I fisted back there.” He lifted his first from the table to make a commotion that aided his words. “He tell ya I went berserk on him, hm?”

The hum in his voice sent a barely perceptible shiver down your neck, and it pulled forward a sudden memory of his frame pressed up against your back—broad, bare chest cushioning your exposed shoulder blades as he sank you deeper into the mattress with each, drilling movement of his pelvis into yours. His lips would find your ear, murmuring endearing words of encouragement to spur you on, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl—my sweet girl, and he’d hum ever so sweetly at the sound of your rapid undoing.

You pushed the memory away, reinforcing the grip on the needle that had begun to slip under your frail focus. “He said you were a hassle, that’s all,” you told Soldier Boy. “And that he put you in your place.”

He gave a scoff the most scornful you’ve heard thus far. “Please, dickhead’s got the swing of ninny. Didn’t even leave a scratch. I, on the other hand, gave him the slightest taste of my dick with that punch—and I’ll tell ya, I knew damn well what I was doin’ for every glorious second of it. It wasn’t the goddamn drugs pumped into me.”

A hopeful spark lit up in your chest as you slowly began to confirm the parameters of his mental state, and you felt eager to ask him just how much he remembered this time around, but you fought to compose yourself. Instead, you asked, “did you pass the questionnaire?”

Soldier Boy held your stare with an almost devilish glint to his eye. “Cum laude,” he said.

You couldn’t help but let slip a breath of a relieved chuckle, but Soldier Boy’s charm sobered up pretty quickly as he forged a more serious look. His eyes wandered down to the needle in your hand, which he acknowledged for the first time since you’d pulled it out.

“This the part where you stick it in me?” He caught himself with a sultry chuckle, his eyes fluttering closed as he turned his head to face the ceiling again. “Man. . . never thought I’d hear those words outta my own mouth, that’s usually your line.”

Heat momentarily flushed your cheeks at that comment, but you pushed it away and lowered your gaze to the needle in grasp, a heavy sense of regret coupling your words as you pushed out a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“Well, what’s it gonna be this time ‘round? Burnin’ me blind? Cramps that feel like a fuckin’ mole tryin’ to explode from my stomach? A full body burn-up and debilitatin’ seizures seem to be a favourite.”

You listened to him with a guilt in your heart that had long since hollowed out much of your chest—there was not much else to feel in all the time between his ritualistic awakenings. “I’m sorry, Ben,” you told him again, only because you were unsure of what else you could be saying.

You let slip a heavy sigh of defeat at the circumstances, before you seized up on the name you’d accidentally let slip. You tore your gaze away from the needle to glance at Soldier Boy with slight anticipation, but he only turned to stare at you with a quieted expression. The use of his real name didn’t seem to come as any unfamiliar shock, and that gave you some solace on the mental debate of how much he remembered about your relationship.

He gave a small jerk of his chin. “Come on, then, do your thing and get it over with. Don’t care for all the fuckin’ edging.”

You closed in on the last of the space separating your bodies, and you took the time to observe the clean pair of scrubs he wore this time around, as well as the gentle whiff of soap radiating from his skin. They made a habit of washing him shortly after pulling him from sleep, usually once the questionnaire was completed. As much as they considered his bodily hygiene, you only wished they’d taken it a step further to address the growing beanstalk of a beard plastered to his chin—not his best look by far, but it was something you could work with.

You reached out your free hand to hover over his arm, eyes trailing up to his. He watched you closely, intensely, with an emotion not quite decodable by your means. “I’m going to inject it into your arm,” you warned him.

“And take your damn time with it, apparently,” he said, lifting his arm to cover what little distance he could manage before the chains reinforced their hold.

You turned your eyes onto his presented arm, and hesitantly, you reached to snake your hand under his elbow. His skin felt so warm against you—it was comforting.

“In these six months you’ve been asleep, I tried my best to modify the compound to have as little side effects as possible. I’ve tested it on the animal subjects, and at most, they showed an elevated body temperature.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just see how much my primal DNA counts in my favour,” he scoffed as he watched you at work, but never once did that look in his eyes waver.

Your lips tackled silence as you focused on the task of inserting the needle. You didn’t have to do much searching to choose the vein to victimise—the vessels were quite open to appreciation along the length of his arm. You lifted the needle toward your vein of choice and slowly inserted it through the skin. Carefully, you began to press down on the plunger, watching as the contents drained from the vile and into the vessel streaming beneath the skin.

Ben sucked air through his teeth, which snapped your attention to his face. His eyes were screwed shut, his teeth displayed in a clench as his head burrowed back slightly further into the table.

“Are you okay?” You asked him.

“Feelin’ fuckin’ fantastic,” he pushed out sarcastically, the squeeze of his eyes yet to let up.

“Good to know,” you muttered with a brief, dismissive flick of your eyes before you focused on the needle once more.

With the last of the contents emptied, you carefully released the hold on his elbow to draw a swab of cotton from your coat. You pressed the material over the insertion point of the needle and applied a light pressure before you began withdrawing the steel length from his skin.

You set the needle onto the table beside his arm and retrieved a plaster from your pocket, and after removing the paper film, you secured the cotton against his skin. You reclaimed the needle and briefly left Ben’s side to place it back into the case before you returned to monitor his vitals.

“Do you feel any different?” You asked, coming to stand beside his arm.

“I’m hot as fuck and more sober than I’d like to be,” he answered wryly.

You were tempted to be snarky, but then you realised that compared to his usual state—the one you’d often come to find him in back in his prime days—this very well could be considered a difference of note.

There was a silence that carried out for a few minutes as you stood waiting to observe any worrisome changes, and it was never uncomfortable—not with him, but Ben eventually put an end to it.

“You know,” he began, a singular brow slightly cocked with curiosity. “You didn’t ask why I punched that dickhead asshole back there. I mean, we’ve established that my brain’s pretty much like that . . . what’s his name? The dude was born somewhere after me, smart as fuck—Stephenson fuckin’ somethin’—anyway, who gives a fuck? I got all my shit in one place, I’m not a goddamn freak show of flying fists, so ain’t ya the least bit curious about it?”

You glanced at him with a hint of surprise. “It’s not exactly off-brand for you to go around punching people, even on your good days,” you pointed out with a hint of amusement.

He rocked his head side to side in a gesture of acceptance. “Eh, fair enough. But I’ll tell ya,” he said.

You watched him closely, a soft smile on your lips. It felt good to talk to him normally. You’d missed this dearly. “I’m listening.”

“The fucker made a jab at me about you, said he’s been keeping one hand in your panties since they put me under—takin’ sweet care of you all the while. So I gave him a light face fuck, the only action he’s ever gotten, and I’d have done a whole lot more had the four assholes out there not strapped me down like some kinky bondage plaything.”

Your heart fluttered at the idea that he’d gotten so protective over you. But you barely had time to process the emotion before he continued.

“He ever touch you?” Ben’s stare was hard, but despite the soldier act, you caught the way his eyes briefly flickered down to your lips.

“No,” you answered instantly, bristling slightly at his nerve to ask. “Never. He’s all talk, no show, and even if he had something to show for it, I can handle my own.”

Am impressed smirk stretched Ben’s lips. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled. “And I always did love that about you.”

Those words paved way for the question you’d been itching to ask since the beginning. You dropped your gaze to your hands, planted against the table beside his.

“Ben,” you began softly. He gave a deep hum of acknowledgment. “Just how much do you remember about me?”

There were a few uncaptioned moments of silence, and you almost wished you could see his face to decipher his thoughts, but some other emotion kept your eyes glued to veins of his arm.

“Everythin’,” he answered at last. “Every damn thing.”

You glanced at him, feeling a mixture of surprise and relief at that confession, and released a long sigh. “You have no idea how relieved that makes me feel.”

Ben held your stare intently, his eyes softening a fraction. “Those times you said my memory got fucked. . . did I forget you?”

You nodded hesitantly and saw the slight ghost of disbelief whisk across his eyes, which caused your heart to ache with the less fond memories between the two of you.

The first time it’d happened was twelve years ago. You’d been right beside the pod they’d pulled him from, and in the midst of his confusion and blind rage, he’d grabbed ahold of you at the neck—another strange face, nobody of any significance to him. Just another damned Russian. You’d been strangled in his grasp for quite a while; the guards coming to your aid were unable to pry his hands from your windpipes in time to escape a blackout.

You’d woken up a day later with severe bruising to your neck and collar bone, and the only news that could’ve been considered good was the fact that you were lucky enough to escape his rage alive. The force with which you were choked should have killed you, you knew that. The only reason you’d survived is because you, yourself, were a Supe.

You’d met Ben back in his prime, before the team had staged the coup that had landed him here. When he was taken by the Russians and betrayed by everybody around him, you’d struck a deal with the higher-ups to get a foot on the inside of the entire operation. Under them, you worked as a scientist to formulate compounds that would enhance Ben to the level that the Russians needed him at.

The first time Ben saw you walk into the medical room, he’d nearly imploded with relief, panic and betrayal all at once, but you’d never let on your relationship with him to anybody within the operation. So to any outside onlooker, you two were strangers to one another, only connected by the duty of the experimenter and her experiment.

It was crucial to keep things that way, especially when you’d been in the company of some of the Russian generals who wanted to witness the first experimental injection on Ben firsthand. Upon his recognition of you, you had to convince everybody that he was undergoing an episode of psychosis—formulating a romantic relationship between the two of you that had never existed in the first place. You had blamed it on the effects of the induced coma, and it had easily passed as an excuse due to the little knowledge possessed on its side effects at the time. Granted, not much progress was made in that field even in this current day and age.

Eventually, when you’d managed to gain enough reputation to demand treatment sessions alone with Ben, you’d gotten the opportunity to explain everything. He had little to be happy about, given that everybody he once trusted had betrayed him in a blink, and the one person he had left to cherish and love was currently pumping him with unreliable modifications of Compound V.

But with time, he’d come to accept it.

You weren’t proud of it. And in the moments that Ben would awaken only to forget you, he’d made sure to toss out every vile insult and cuss word he could each time you slid that needle into his arm, which only broke your heart further. But it was the price to pay to ensure nothing worse would happen to him.

The only barrier that had been set between him and a fate worse off, was you, and that’s a fact you’d tried hard to remind yourself of in all the passing years you’d spent drowning in guilt for your sins. But even then, it never made enduring his mind-swept states easier, and especially not when he looked at you with such hatred solidified in his gaze that it became all you could think about.

You came back to the present when Ben’s hand struggled through the restraints to graze your fingers. You flinched at the touch, at first, but it wasn’t long before your hand relaxed within his hold. So warm, so gentle, even considering all that he’s been through. It was comforting to know just how human he still was.

“Untie me,” he said, and you opened your mouth to argue before he cut you off with an air of eager reassurance. “I feel fine. It’s been a good couple of minutes, and nothin’s happened. Don’t ya trust me?”

You tilted your head slightly at him. “You know I do,” you murmured, your hand tightening within his. “But Ben, there’s something el—”

“Untie me first, then tell me about all the shit I’ve got comin’ for me,” he insisted.

Your eyes scanned the room self-consciously, picking out the two corners that had cameras mounted to their wall. “You know they’re watching us,” you told him. “Our every move.”

“Yeah, fuck those fuckers,” he sniffed, following your gaze to do his own quick sweep of the room. “Fuckin’ assholes!” He called aloud, and you tightened your hand in his as a warning. He glanced back at you with a slight scoff. “What? They’ve seen my bare balls and ass—shit, they’ve even stroked it. They know damn well how I feel about them.”

“Don’t provoke them,” you told him, and he flashed you a look that screamed bet, though he chose to resort to his best behaviour as he clamped down on his tongue. “I can’t take your chains off, they’ll storm the place the moment I do. I’m sorry.”

Ben held your gaze for a moment as he considered the circumstances, then his attention slid past you and lifted to the ceiling above your head.

You turned your head to follow his gaze. “What?” You asked, turning back to him with curiosity.

“Every time they roll me in and outta this room, I get a glimpse of the security room,” he said in a low murmur, raw emphasis on keeping his words out the enemy’s ears. “There’s two cameras in this room. One behind ya—“ he made a gesture with a flick of his eyes, “—and one behind me in the opposite corner. And it’s my lucky fuckin’ day, cause the camera behind me’s busted.”

You frowned as he spoke. “And what favours has that got to offer you?” You asked.

Ben seemed content to explain. “Camera behind you’s the only one still workin’. But your body—god bless it in its fuckin’ entirety—is blocking their dandy view of my dick.”

You listened carefully, the crease in your brow beginning to loosen at the understanding of where he was headed. “Absolutely not,” you scolded him, a dumbstruck smile poking through.

“Oh, come on,” Ben drawled. “Why the fuck not? I’ve been all pressed up in that sweaty fuckin’ tank for weeks, months, years on end and every time my eyes close, I get that goddamn dream of you and I, hittin’ pound town like there’s no fuckin’ tomorrow—shit, and I mean no tomorrow. Seriously, all day, all night—“

“All right, all right,” you cut him short, heat beginning to flush into your cheeks.

“Now, it’s not gonna be a recreation of that sweet, sweet day,” Ben said regretfully. “But if you could give a man a taste of relief by using that hand for somethin’ other than sticking a needle in my arm, I will fuck you senseless as a reward as soon as I’m freed the fuck outta these chains—you just gimme a time and place. That sound like a plan, baby?”

You couldn’t deny the hot burn that jolted it’s way into your core at the sound of that promise, but you pushed it aside to address the other issue you hadn’t yet been given the chance to voice.

“It’s a date, Ben, but you need to listen to me about that something else,” you told him, releasing his hand.

Ben puckered his lips as he coaxed forward a shushing noise, jerking his chin toward his hard on. He didn’t often need a lot of pampering to erect his dick—the bloody thing could get off on the scent of your perfume alone.

With a frustrated sigh, you tossed a quick glance over your shoulder, glimpsing the camera that had been peering over you since you’d set foot in here. You saw it blinking with a red light at its centre, the dead giveaway of recording. You then turned to look at the opposite camera, and it didn’t hold the same red dot in its core, which meant that Ben was, indeed, right.

Of course he was.

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes, Ben,” you muttered in disbelief, tensely guiding the hand that had held his only seconds ago toward the bulge in his pants, simultaneously shifting your body to shield the scene more firmly. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Try not to make it too obvious,” Ben advised smugly, his eyes dipping to where your hand slipped under the flimsy waistband of his scrub pants.

“Shut up.” You were immediately greeted by his firm hard-on, not having any underwear beneath the scrubs. It felt warm and swollen against your palm, and when you passed a curious thumb over his tip, you felt the damp kiss of his pre-cum.

“Yeah, he’s a little excited—you felt it, get a move on,” he ordered impatiently.

You’d forgotten just how much of a curt dick he could be when it came to anything remotely sexual.

You wrapped your fingers around his length, your thumb gathering all tangible pre-cum to spread it along the head before you began to pump him with slow, fluid strokes.

Ben’s head collapsed back onto the table, his mouth falling slightly ajar with breathy grunts of pleasure.

“I need to make it less obvious?” You sniped in a harsh, low tone. “How about you?”

“Fuck,” Ben spat, lifting his head with what looked like great effort to face you. “Forgot just how good you feel, you’ll forgive a man for being expressive.”

Your heart fluttered at his compliment, and you tightened your hold on his girth to applaud his behaviour. “Keep on talking to me,” you said. “Make it look like we’re having a conversation.”

“Yeah. . .” Ben stammered distractedly, a clear indication that he was struggling to multitask.

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes,” you muttered under your breath, picking up the pace of your strokes. You made sure to come down on his balls with considerable force to add to the stimulation, and he let slip a strangled, gruff moan that caused your core to ignite its own fire.

“Atta girl, pumpin’ it almost as well as your pussy does,” he praised breathlessly as he struggled against his restrains with a frustrated grunt. “These fuckin’ things. . .” He trailed off and met your gaze. “What was it you wanted to say?” He asked, his chest beginning to heave more rapidly now.

You were doubtful that you had his full ear to unload the importance of what you were about to tell him, but you decided to spill that can anyways, simultaneously making sure to keep up the pace of your strokes.

“This is the last injection you’ll ever have to get, Ben,” you told him softly. Ben’s sex-addled haze sobered up real quickly at that, his eyes now fully focused onto your face.

“The fuck you on ‘bout?” He asked.

“Tonight, you’re getting out,” you told him, feeling as the heat around his length began to build with each continued stroke. You could see Ben strain with the movements, wanting desperately to reach his release while trying to focus on your words. “I made contact with this group, they’ve been looking for you for a while—followed your trail all the way out here. You wanna know what the Russians intended to use you for? Well, Turns out, you’re the one strongest biological weapon that planet Earth has to offer.”

His eyes widened briefly at that before screwing shut as his head collapsed back onto the table with a strained growl, and then you felt him implode, his warm seed trailing down your hand. You gave a few more slow pumps to urge the last of it out, then gently released his manhood and discretely pulled your hand from his pants.

“Feel better now?” You asked, bringing your hand to wipe his juices onto your coat.

Ben lifted his head just in time to catch that act, which caused him to grunt in disappointment.

“Do it right next time,” he scolded you. “You know you love the taste of it.”

You did, but this wasn’t exactly the time or place for you to express that particular savoury tooth. “Listen,” you continued the earlier conversation. “This group, they need you, and come tonight, they’ll break you out of that fucking tank you’ve been stuck in all these years.”

Ben’s expression seemed to knead both relief and anticipation as he considered your words. “Where will you be?” He asked earnestly. “I’m not leavin’ without you.”

You took his hand into your own, and he squeezed it tightly. “You won’t,” you assured him. “I’ll be right there beside you when you wake up. But for now, you’ve got to go along with everything—act normal, like it’s any other day.”

Ben nodded slowly, the most docile and compliant you’d ever seen him. “These people . . . how much do you know about ‘em?”

You shook your head slightly. “Not a lot,” you admitted. “But enough to know they’re the lesser evil. They get us out of here, you do what you need to do, and then we run.”

“Yeah, fuck it, I’ve had worse odds,” he decided, something which you could contest to. “This group, they have a name?”

“Yeah,” you said, recalling the blatant stupidity of it. “They call themselves The Boys.”

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a/n ─ man, this was pumped out of me at 3 am because my biological urges just decided to go full-blown FUCK YEAH for jensen ackles. i NEED him.

thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated

tags — @gibson-g1rl @bohemianblasphemy @fallbhind

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