#The boys

[karniquefreak]

when you put an extrovert into a group of introverts

+ 4.04:

let him talk 😭

[boredgrace23]

Let's go kill some robots boys

[enchantedflameandflower]

Billy Butcher x you oneshot!

Billy knows how to really take care of you when you need it most…

18+ only smut, piv, cock warming, creampie

Merry Christmas! 😘

~*~*~

It was getting late. Butcher was watching a movie on the couch, but you were sitting at the table, finishing up some work.

When you were finally done, you gave a huge sigh of relief and checked your email one last time.

"Fuck," you groaned as you opened the 5th message from your boss that night asking you for a report on one of your projects. Frustration and tension and anxiety surged inside of you like the tide, and for a moment all you could do was sit there and stare at the screen.

Butcher had paused halfway through his movie as he got up to get a drink and seemed to sense what was happening. Honestly, you were stressed a lot these days. Most of the time he wouldn't notice, or at least would just let you be but right now you felt like you were at your tipping point.

"C'mere doll," he said from behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder to tell him you were busy, but the fierce look in his eyes told you he was not going to take no for an answer.

You sighed when you stood up and went over to him but all you were thinking was 'he noticed.'

Butcher slid his hands around your waist, tugging you against him. "You've been workin' too hard."

All of the breath in your lungs seemed to escape in one big whoosh. "It's just how it is this time of year.

I just have one more report to work on. And I need to do my laundry. And it's Thursday."

Butcher leaned back, lifting his eyebrow at you.

"Dusting day," you explained meekly.

Billy gave you a look. "I'll do yer laundry with mine and dustin' can wait. What can I do tonight to make ya sit still for a while and let yerself go?"

You leaned forward wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek against his broad chest. He was right, you felt like you were about to collapse but there was still so much to do...

"Maybe just hold me," you said softly.

"I'd be chuffed, love, but yer mind would still be whirlin' wouldn't it. Need somethin' to distract that pretty head o' yours too."

He rubbed your back for a moment as he thought and a soft, but tired, little sound escaped your throat. He knew you, and he knew it had to be something different to truly get your mind off of your worries right now.

He glanced at the tv where the movie was paused, then back to you. "Up for a little playin', love? I've got an idea."

The look in his eye told you it was something interesting and you couldn't help immediately being intrigued. "Maybe...what would I have to do?"

"Nothin' love. Go and change inta somethin' comfy. Just a shirt, nothin' else, then come back out and sit with me."

"Ok." You gave him a kiss before you retreated into your shared bedroom.

When you came back out he was sitting on the couch and he groaned as soon as he saw you.

"Fuck me," he muttered.

You grinned at him, pleased. You'd changed into one of his shirts, and you'd left it unbuttoned, though it was pulled around you at the moment. It was soft and it barely came to the tops of your thighs.

"Well c'mon," he husked, patting his lap and letting his heated gaze roam over you.

You climbed into his lap kneeling over him and sitting back on his thighs. "If your idea is to fuck me..." you deadpanned.

He smirked wickedly, his hands sliding to your hips. "Nah it ain't that. You know you'd be comin' in minutes, love, then you'd be right back to your troubles again wouldn't ya? Need somethin' to relax yer brain fer a lot longer than that. Besides I need t'finish me film."

Well...he wasn't wrong.

For a moment you met his eyes, gleaming with mischief, and you could feel his cock swelling beneath you...and then you realized what he wanted to do. A surprising pulse of lust surged through your veins and you knew you were immediately wet for him. It wasn't something you'd ever thought of before but now that you did...now that you did you were more than eager to try. That might actually work.

His hazel eyes glinted with desire even as they darkened. "Be a good girl and get me cock out, yeah?"

You swallowed, nodding your head and sliding back off his lap. He gave you a look and you obeyed instantly, working his belt free and opening his jeans. He shifted his hips so you could tug them down just enough to free his cock, already hard and ready for you.

"How do you want me?" you whispered.

"Facin' the telly, yeah? Wouldn't want you to miss the rest o' the film."

You hadn't really seen the first half as you'd been working at the same time, but you had a feeling that didn't matter. And maybe it would help to have something to watch to help distract you from his...distracting.

You stood up and turned around as he slid one big hand around the base of his cock to steady it, and gripped your hip with the other.

"Ready, doll," he murmured low, and you moved to sit on him slowly, his hand positioning you with a tight grip.

When you felt the head of his cock at your entrance, a little moan left your lips but he kept guiding you down without pause.

"Fuck..." you breathed. Without much preparation, the fit was tight and he stretched you almost uncomfortably but you knew your body would adjust.

"Fuckin' hell, love, your gushin'," he groaned. "Must've liked this idea more than I realized."

You wanted to argue but a broken moan was all that left your lips. You took a breath as you took him all way, you ass quickly pressing flush against his thighs. "Oh my god..." you whimpered. Syrupy pleasure flooded through your body, making your clit throb and your cunt flutter around his length as you thought about staying like this.

Billy gripped your hips hard with both hands and you felt another gush of wetness around his cock. "Easy now. Take a deep breath fer me, love. Yer gonna have to calm down if you yer gonna be a good girl and let me keep ya on me cock till I'm done watchin'."

"Oh fuck," you moaned breathily, closing your eyes and biting your lip hard. Breathe.

His hands rubbed soothingly over your hips and outer thighs and you took a slow deep breath and licked your lips, focusing on the tv in front of you. You caught sight of the time bar and you almost groaned at the amount of time that was left, just a little less than an hour. Breathe.

He felt so thick inside of you, the size of him alone lighting up every nerve ending you had. But you had a long way to go so you took another deep breath, and finally your body let go of some of the tension, just a little.

That's my girl," Billy murmured low from behind you. He slid one arm around you and urged you to lean back against his chest. "Just rest here for a bit, filled up with me cock, not thinkin' 'bout nothin' else."

Your only answer was another whimper and he gave a low chuckle.

Starting the movie again, he moved a pillow to your side, and another on his shoulder so you could rest your head against it and still watch the movie. Your bare legs were draped over his jean clad thighs and you had to be careful not to let his open zipper scrape across your inner thighs or worse. Incentive not to move, you supposed.

You swallowed again, trying hard not to clench around him, but you couldn't help the little flutters of your cunt anytime his cock twitched or he shifted even the tiniest bit.

How he was keeping his own control so easily, you had no idea. Probably had a wank in the shower earlier, you sighed to yourself.

His chest was warm against your back and his big hand was rubbing your thigh. You really tried to watch the movie, but fuck, he was so deep like this. His cock was fiery hot inside of you and you swore you could feel the veins that ran the length of it. You felt every inch af him.

Minutes ticked by slowly, and you did your best for almost 15 of them, but as pleasure continued to pool in your center, and your body adjusted to his size, relaxing and taking him deeper, all you could think about was getting relief. You were dripping and you were sure he could feel it, but still he seemed as relaxed as ever, lazily stroking your thigh as he watched the tv.

Then before you could try to stop yourself, your hips rocked on top of his lap and a soft little cry escaped as bliss erupted inside you, making your whole body tense and buzz, making your fingertips tingle.

Billy rumbled and caught your hips with both hands, gripping hard, holding you still. "No movin', doll."

Your clit throbbed helplessly, completely neglected and you had to bite your lip to keep from whining pathetically, clenching your hands on your thighs.

"Breathe," he murmured, his beard tickling the curve of your neck as he leaned forward. You took a gulp of air, and then another, not even realizing you'd stopped.

Breathe.

Finally, you caught your breath and your lust lowered back to a simmer.

"That's a good girl fer me," Billy said, kneading your hips in reward but all you could do was groan at his praise and it made your cunt flutter around him again.

"Don't say that," you whimpered.

He gave a quiet laugh and patted your leg. "We'll have to keep practicin' this," he said low against the shell of your ear, then went back to watching the movie.

You slumped back against his broad chest again and his arm came around you. Instead of thinking about the way his cock was filling you, you tried to focus on letting your palm play over the little hairs on his forearm. After another 15 minutes, a hazy-sweet fog started to drift over your mind, some combination of dazed and still wildly turned on.

Anytime he moved it sent a jolt of pleasure through you but you were starting to get used to it, learning to let it soften into your body, banking it for later. After a while you couldn't even tell where he ended and you began, he was just a part of you.

At some point you must have completely spaced out, because you suddenly realized the tv was off. Billy was smoothing his hands slowly over your stomach and your thighs and your hips, still thick and big inside of you.

"Did I do it?" you murmured languidly.

Billy leaned closer, kissing the side of your neck, his mustache and his beard scratching sensitive skin spectacularly. "You did it. Such a good girl. My girl..."

You made a lilting, blissful sound and wrapped your fingers around his forearms, desperately needing to hold on to something.

"Think you can come for me now, pet?" His voice was gravelly and rough in your ear.

"Mmmm...mmhmm..." You gripped his arm tighter, unable to get your mind to even form another word. Every single worry was completely gone and you couldn't care less about anything except this right here.

Billy shifted underneath you, pushing his jeans further down his thighs and the movement made him thrust up into you.

You cried out, trembling with need, and he made a low sound to soothe you. "I've got ya, love. I'll take care now..."

It was too much to hold yourself up so you fell back against him and he rumbled approvingly. The vibration in his chest only added to your pleasure.

He pulled the edges of his shirt that you were wearing apart so you were totally exposed and tugged it down so your shoulders were bare but didn't bother taking it all the way off. Then he wrapped his hands around your bare waist and began to thrust up into you. "Fuck," he groaned. "Wasn't gonna last much longer either, love."

One of his big hands slid up to engulf your breast, kneading the weight of it in his palm then pinching your tight nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your heart stuttered as you gasped for breath, every nerve lighting up. Billy knew how to make your body sing.

Lifting one arm, you curled it around him to thread your fingers through his hair and let your eyes flutter closed, just feeling him.

Every single thrust hit the right spot and made you whimper or moan or cry. Pleasure seemed to only crest higher and higher inside you, no limit in sight.

Within moments, as he had predicted earlier, you were on the brink of orgasm, but you wanted more, needed it. Grabbing at his hand on your waist, you pushed it down, guiding his fingers to where you were joined.

Billy moaned, his lips brushing the nape of your neck. "Mmmm, needy little thing, ain't ya..." he teased, but he deftly nestled two fingertips right over your swollen clit.

The second he started to circle over the throbbing nub your bliss heightened ten-fold...it had been left ignored for too long.

Your cries now were so much that you vaguely wondered if the neighbors would be concerned but there was nothing you could do, and Billy didn't seem to care at all.

His fingers slowed when he sensed you were almost there and he used his free hand to move your knees to the outside of his so he could push your legs farther apart with his own, wide open for him, and stuffed full.

Then his fingertips returned to their fast, slick circles with haste.

The eruption of your climax happened immediately. Your entire body tensed in pleasure, wave after wave crashed through you in relentless pulses as he continued to stroke your clit.

The growl Billy let loose against your shoulder in response was earth-shaking. You had never felt an orgasm this intense before and you could tell your thighs and his fingers and his cock were drenched.

"Fuckin' "ell," he groaned. He moved to grip your hips with both hands one last time, the fingers on one hand still slick with you, and he bucked up into you, rough and erratic as his own orgasm began.

Burying his face against the curve of your neck, he bit down, moaning, low and gruff.

Broken whimpers and unintelligible words fell from your lips as every sensation continued to bounce and ping through your body like a pinball machine.

You could feel his come, hot and thick, spurting deep inside you. It felt just as good as everything else this night.

By the end of it you were completely expended, weak in his lap. You wouldn't be able to move even if the apartment caught on fire.

Billy was slumped into the couch now too, but his arms were around you and he was still inside you.

You had no idea how long the two of you lazed there, but eventually Billy regained his strength.

You whimpered as he finally slid out of you then gathered you up in his arms.

Your own strength was long gone and it was not coming back. He carried you into the bathroom and you were too fucked out to even care he stayed. After he cleaned both of you up, he scooped you up again and set you on the bed. He found your favorite, softest long t-shirt to sleep in and tucked you in. In the next minute he was sliding under the blankets too and he hauled you against his chest.

"Alright love?" he murmured.

"Mmmmmm. Mmmhmmmm." You were nestled in his arms, his skin warm beneath you and your face pressed to his shoulder. You wanted to say thank you but you were pretty sure only a mumble of half-formed words came out. His hand rubbed soothingly over your back and you felt him nuzzle the top of your head only seconds before you were out.

You couldn't go to work the next day, much to Butcher's smug amusement.

~*~*~

thank you for reading 🥹 thank you for all the inspiration to write this ❤️

Update: I figured out the problem in the html code! Fixed it! (post tags are not working for this so doing my best to figure out what the issue is, and tagged people instead, I’m so sorry bleh tumblr)

@chocolategiverzombie @kus-babygirl @jynx15 @cassiopeia-grimm @karlurbanism

@butchers-girl @bluemerakis @bohemianblasphemy @babyfri3dric3 @dustie-faerie

@weallhaveadestiny @violent-darkness @norman-b @fenyxhawthorn @smallsadjellyfish

@butchersboobs @shirley-girly @bobabilbil @olivejuice96 @angelically-yours

@bimboyaoi @deansaddiction @vavafaure1994 @burntsaltsblog

karl urban masterlist

[norman-b]

Do yall think antony starr ever hears the homelander suit talk to him like green goblins mask

[lila-lou]

✨His second exception - Pt. 28/?✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, fluff, ANGST, Maybe some triggers (death chances etc.)

Word Count: 7667

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 28 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙

Another week crawled by, and the days felt like an endless cycle of exhaustion, pain, and fleeting moments of solace when Ben was by your side. The injections had become unbearable. Each dose of V had increased incrementally, pushing your body to its limits. Now, the second the serum hit your veins, it overwhelmed you so completely that you passed out, your body unable to cope with the intensity.

Today was no exception.

You’d barely managed to register Dr. Collins’ voice as she explained the procedure for the hundredth time. Ben had stayed close, his hand gripping yours tightly, his jaw locked as he watched the needle sink into your arm. The sharp sting of the injection was the last thing you felt before the familiar heat seared through your body, pulling you under like a tidal wave.

You awoke hours later, your body drenched in sweat, your muscles trembling from the aftereffects. The pain lingered like a dull ache in your bones, a constant reminder of the toll this was taking. Your head throbbed as you blinked, the dim light of Dr. Collins’ office coming into focus.

“Hey”, Ben’s voice broke through the haze, low and rough but filled with worry. He was seated right next to you, his hand resting on your thigh. His face looked more tired than you’d ever seen it, dark circles shadowing his eyes. “You’re awake”.

You tried to speak, but your throat felt dry and raw. Instead, you managed a faint nod, your fingers twitching slightly against the blanket draped over you.

Dr. Collins appeared in your peripheral vision, her expression neutral but her tone clinical. “You passed out for three and a half hours this time”, she said, glancing at the chart in her hands. “Your body is still metabolizing the dose, but your vitals are stable for now”.

Ben exhaled sharply, his head tilting back as he muttered under his breath, “Stable. Sure, great”.

You reached out weakly, your hand finding his. “Ben”, you croaked, your voice barely audible.

He leaned forward instantly, his eyes softening as he wrapped his hand around yours. “I’m here”, he said gruffly. “You scared the shit out of me… again, but I’m here”.

You managed a faint smile, though it felt like it took all the energy you had left. “How… long can we keep this up?”, you whispered, your voice shaky.

Dr. Collins hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she spoke. “We’re nearing the limits of what your body can handle”, she admitted. “But the baby’s growth is stabilizing slightly. If we can make it another two weeks, you’ll both be in a much safer place”.

Ben’s grip on your hand tightened, his knuckles white as he turned his gaze back to you. “Two more weeks”, he said, his voice a low rumble. “You just have to hold on, doll. Two more weeks, and this’ll all be worth it”.

You closed your eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. Two weeks felt like an eternity, but with the way Ben was looking at you, the fierce determination in his eyes, you knew you couldn’t give up now. Not when you’d come this far. Not when he was counting on you.

“Okay”, you whispered, the word barely audible, but it was enough. Enough to reassure him. Enough to keep going.

When Ben carried you into the house that evening, you were visibly weaker than usual. Your body ached in ways that were becoming all too familiar, but the sight of the baby’s room as he passed by stirred something in you—a determination you hadn’t felt in days. You placed a shaky hand on his chest and looked up at him, your voice soft but firm.

“Ben… take me to the baby’s room”, you whispered, your eyes glinting with a quiet resolve.

Ben groaned, his jaw tightening. “You need to be in bed”, he grumbled, his grip tightening protectively around you. “You can barely move. What the hell do you think you’re gonna do in there?”.

“Please”, you said, your tone more insistent now. “Just let me sit in the rocking chair. I want to get the last stuff ready. I promise I won’t overdo it. I just need to… I need to feel like I’m doing something”.

He stared at you for a long moment, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considered arguing further. But the determination in your eyes was something he couldn’t ignore. With a heavy sigh, he carried you to the baby’s room and gently set you down in the rocking chair.

“There”, he said, his voice laced with frustration but also a hint of fondness. “Now what?”.

You gave him a small, tired smile, gesturing to the nearby boxes and items that still needed organizing. “Well, the blankets need to go in that drawer”, you said, pointing, “and the diapers should go in the cabinet by the changing table. Oh, and that mobile needs to be hung up—”.

Ben raised a hand, cutting you off with an exaggerated groan. “Alright, alright, boss”, he muttered, rolling his eyes but already moving to start on the tasks. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”.

You chuckled softly, leaning back in the chair as you watched him work. He was gruff as ever, muttering under his breath as he carefully folded blankets and stacked diapers, but there was a tenderness to his movements that made your chest ache in the best way.

“You’re doing great", you said, your voice full of warmth as he fumbled with the mobile.

Ben glanced back at you, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t patronize me”, he grumbled, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smirk.

“I’m serious”, you said, your hand resting on your belly. “You’re going to be the best dad, Ben”.

He paused for a moment, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Yeah, well”, he muttered, turning back to his task, “she’s gonna have one stubborn-ass mom too”.

"Hopefully”, you whispered quietly, almost to yourself. But the weight of your words hit the air like a stone, and Ben froze where he stood, his hands pausing mid-motion as he hung the mobile.

He turned to face you, his eyes narrowing, a storm brewing in his expression. “Stop fucking talking like that”, he snapped, his voice sharp and cutting, though the fear behind his words was unmistakable. He crossed the room in a few long strides, crouching down in front of you so he could look you directly in the eye.

You didn’t flinch, but your chest tightened as you saw the raw emotion etched across his face. “Ben—”, you started, but he cut you off, his hands gripping the armrests of the rocking chair to steady himself.

“No”, he growled, his voice low and trembling with anger. “I’m serious. I don’t want to hear that kind of shit coming out of your mouth. Not now. Not ever”.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight as the tears welled up again. “I’m just being realistic”, you said softly, your voice cracking. The weight of the day’s conversation with Dr. Collins loomed heavy between you and Ben, like a storm cloud that refused to pass.

Earlier, the doctor had laid it out plainly: while the V medication had stabilized your condition for now, the next weeks were critical. If your body didn’t adapt more to the medication—and quickly—the strain of carrying a supe baby could prove too much. She hadn’t minced words. The risks were terrifyingly high.

And right now, instead of adapting, your body seemed to be doing the opposite—struggling more and more each day.

“You heard what she said”, you whispered, looking at Ben with tear-filled eyes. “There’s a huge chance I might not make it through giving birth if my body doesn’t start adapting. And it’s not. It’s getting worse, Ben”.

Ben’s face twisted, his jaw clenching so tightly you could hear the faint grind of his teeth. His hand tightened on the armrest, his knuckles white. “No”, he said sharply, his voice like steel. “I don’t give a fuck what the odds are. You’re going to make it”.

You stared at him, your emotions bubbling over. “Ben, you can’t just decide that—”.

“Yes, I can!”, he barked, his voice rising, though there was a tremble in it now, betraying his fear. “You think I’m just gonna sit here and let that happen? No fucking way”.

His hands moved from the armrests to your face, cupping it gently as his thumbs brushed away your tears. “You’re not leaving me”, he said firmly, his green eyes boring into yours, fierce and unwavering. “I don’t care what it takes, or what we have to do. We’ll figure it out. But you’re not leaving me, and you’re sure as hell not leaving her”.

You let out a choked sob, gripping his wrists tightly as you leaned into his touch. “Ben, I’m scared”, you admitted, your voice breaking. “I want to believe that, but every day feels harder. What if—”.

“No”, he interrupted, his voice softer now, though no less resolute. “No ‘what if’. I don’t want to hear it. You’re going to fight, just like you always do”.

Your tears falling freely now as he pulled you into his arms. His hold was strong, protective, as if he thought he could shield you from everything with just his embrace.

“You’re not going anywhere”, he murmured against your hair, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Not on my watch”.

Over the next few days, Ben couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his gut. You were exhausted, drained from the relentless injections and the toll your body was enduring, but in the rare hours when you weren’t asleep or recovering, you were laser-focused. Too focused.

You walked him through the baby’s room, showing him where you’d organized everything. “The diapers are here, wipes over there”, you said softly, gesturing to the neatly arranged cabinets. “And if you run out, there are extra boxes in the hall closet”.

Ben stood there, arms crossed, his brow furrowed deeply. “I’ll remember”, he said gruffly, though he hated the edge of finality in your voice, the way it felt like you were handing over the reins of a life you weren’t sure you’d be part of.

It didn’t stop there. The next day, you sat on the couch with him, the laptop balanced on your lap. “I bookmarked a bunch of tutorials”, you explained, your tone calm but tinged with a quiet urgency. “Feeding, diaper changes, how to swaddle, how to bathe her… just in case—”.

Ben slammed his hand down on the armrest, cutting you off. “Stop”, he snapped, his voice sharp and filled with anger he couldn’t fully contain. “You don’t need to show me this shit. You’re going to fucking be here to do it yourself”.

You flinched slightly at his tone, but instead of backing down, you met his glare head-on. “I’m trying to make sure you’re ready, Ben”, you said, your voice trembling but firm. “Because we don’t know what’s going to happen, and I need to know you’ll be okay. That she’ll be okay”.

Ben’s jaw tightened, his green eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and fear. “I don’t need a fucking tutorial”, he growled. “I need you to stop acting like you’re already gone”.

The tension in the room was palpable as the doorbell echoed through the house. You sighed, pushing the laptop aside and glancing toward Ben, who was still radiating frustration. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath before standing up to answer the door.

When he opened it, your parents stepped in, their cheerful expressions quickly fading as they took in the somber atmosphere. Your mom glanced at you, her brow furrowing with concern, while your dad’s gaze shifted to Ben, reading the tension in his rigid posture.

“What’s going on?”, your mom asked cautiously, her eyes darting between the two of you.

Ben didn’t answer right away. He stood there for a moment, his hand gripping the edge of the doorframe as if he were trying to ground himself. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, muttering, “I need a break”, before turning and heading toward the kitchen.

Your parents exchanged a worried glance before your mom moved closer to you, sitting down beside you on the couch. “What’s wrong?”, she asked softly, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “You two seem… off”.

You shook your head quickly, forcing a small smile onto your face. “It’s nothing”, you lied, your voice shaky. “Just… a long day”.

Your dad wasn’t buying it. He crossed his arms, his expression growing more serious. “Come on”, he said, his tone firm but gentle. “Something’s going on. You’ve been distant the last few times we’ve talked. And now he’s walking away like that?”.

You swallowed hard, avoiding their gazes as you tried to think of a way to deflect the conversation. The last thing you wanted was to tell them about the survival odds. But your mom wasn’t letting it go.

“Sweetheart”, she said, her voice trembling slightly, “if something’s wrong, you need to tell us. Please”.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Your throat felt tight, your chest constricted with the weight of everything you were carrying. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it—not when their worried faces were looking at you so intently.

From the kitchen, the faint sound of a cabinet closing signaled that Ben was still nearby. You glanced toward the doorway, half-hoping he’d come back in and steer the conversation away, but he stayed out of sight.

Finally, you shook your head again, forcing another strained smile. “I’m fine”, you whispered. “We’re fine”.

Your mom didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push further—for now. She simply wrapped an arm around your shoulder, holding you close.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Ben leaned against the counter, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He stared down at it, his jaw tight as he tried to collect himself. He hated this—hated feeling so powerless, hated seeing you so determined to plan for a future without you in it. His chest heaved with every breath, the tension in his body palpable. He barely registered the sound of footsteps behind him until your dad spoke, his voice low but filled with restrained anger.

“You know”, your dad started, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe, “she’s pregnant. In a lot of pain. While carrying your baby”. He let the words hang in the air for a moment, his tone sharpening as he continued. “Leaving her out there and saying something about ‘needing a break’? That’s a shit move, Ben”.

Ben’s jaw tightened, his grip on the counter white-knuckled as your dad’s words hit home. But your dad wasn’t finished.

“You put a ring on her finger, didn’t you?”, he said, stepping closer now, his voice growing more forceful. “There’s no such thing as a damn break! You don’t walk away when things get hard. You step up”.

For a moment, Ben didn’t move. Then, without warning, he inhaled sharply, his breath catching as the tension in his body exploded outward. His chest began to glow faintly—a phenomenon that hadn’t happened in months. It was faint, but unmistakable, a flickering reminder of the storm building inside him.

In a sudden motion, Ben grabbed his glass of whiskey and hurled it against the wall. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the kitchen, cutting through the heavy silence. The glowing in his chest intensified for a brief moment before he visibly forced himself to calm down, taking a ragged breath as he pressed his palms flat against the counter.

“She’s already given up”, Ben muttered finally, his voice hoarse, almost broken.

Your dad frowned, his expression shifting from anger to confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”, he asked, stepping closer.

Ben’s shoulders sagged, and he turned to face your dad, his green eyes dark with frustration and fear. “She’s planning for a future she thinks she’s not gonna be in”, he said, his voice low but filled with raw emotion. “Every time she talks about the baby, it’s about what I need to do, what I need to know. Like she’s already decided she’s not gonna make it”.

Your dad stared at him, stunned into silence for a moment. Then he shook his head slowly, his voice softening. “She’s scared, Ben. That’s not the same as giving up”.

Ben let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”, he hissed, his voice low and angry, though the anger wasn’t directed at your dad. He looked at the shattered glass on the floor as if it held all the answers he couldn’t give.

“Told us what?”, your dad pressed, his tone sharp now, stepping closer.

But Ben didn’t answer, his jaw clenching tightly as he turned away. His chest still glowed faintly, the tension in his body barely contained. Whatever was boiling inside him, he wasn’t ready to let it out.

Your dad frowned, studying Ben for a moment before making a decision. Without another word, he turned and walked back into the living room where you were sitting with your mom. The worry on both your parents’ faces deepened as they exchanged a glance.

“What’s going on?”, your mom asked, her voice cautious but concerned as she looked between you and your dad.

Your dad’s jaw tightened, and he knelt beside you, his tone softening as he asked, “Honey, what’s Ben talking about? He’s in the kitchen losing it, saying you haven’t told us something. What is it?”.

You froze, your eyes widening slightly. You glanced toward the kitchen, where you could hear Ben pacing, the faint sound of his boots against the tile. You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively moving to your belly.

“It’s… it’s nothing”, you said quickly, though your voice wavered. “He’s just upset. It’s been a hard week”.

Your dad didn’t look convinced. “Don’t give me that”, he said firmly. “If there’s something we need to know—something serious—you tell us. Right now”.

Your mom reached for your hand, her grip gentle but steady. “Sweetheart, please. We can see something’s wrong”.

The weight of their worry combined with your own exhaustion was too much. Your shoulders sagged, and you let out a shaky breath as tears welled in your eyes. “It’s just…”, you started, your voice trembling. “The doctors… they said… there’s a chance I might not make it through the delivery”.

The words hung heavy in the air, and you could feel the sharp intake of breath from both your parents. Your mom’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears, while your dad’s expression darkened with a mix of fear and anger.

“What?”, he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face. “My body… it’s not adapting to the V medication like they hoped. The strain of the baby… it’s too much. They’re doing everything they can, but… there’s no guarantee”.

Your mom was already holding you tightly, her tears falling freely as she whispered, “Oh, my baby…”.

Your dad stood up abruptly, his fists clenching at his sides. “And you didn’t tell us? Either of you?”, he demanded, his voice trembling with emotion.

Before you could respond, Ben appeared in the doorway, his expression a mix of guilt and defensiveness. “Because she didn’t want you to worry”, he said, his voice gruff. “But now you know. So congratulations”.

Your dad turned on him, his voice rising. “You knew about this, and you let her sit here planning for her death instead of fighting for her to believe she’s going to live? What the hell is wrong with you?”.

Ben’s eyes flashed with anger, his chest glowing faintly again as he stepped forward. “You think I’m not fighting for her every fucking day?”, he snapped. “You don’t know what it’s like, watching her go through this and not being able to fucking fix it!”.

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the situation crashing down on everyone. Your mom pulled you closer, her tears soaking into your shoulder as your dad stared down Ben, neither man willing to back down.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice soft but firm. “Stop”, you said, looking between them. “I can’t… I can’t handle this right now”.

Both men looked at you, their expressions softening slightly as the anger in the room ebbed. Ben sighed heavily, running a hand down his face, while your dad knelt back beside you.

“We’re here for you”, your dad said, his voice steady now. “Whatever happens, we’re not going anywhere. None of us”.

Ben stood there, his shoulders tense and his fists clenched at his sides as he stared at your dad. He didn’t need any sort of enhanced ability to read your parents’ thoughts; their expressions said it all. The flicker of blame in your dad’s eyes, the heartbreak on your mom’s face as she held you—Ben knew exactly what they were thinking.

If she’d fallen for a normal guy, she wouldn’t be going through this. She wouldn’t be suffering like this. This is his fault.

And the thing was, for Ben, they weren’t wrong.

His chest felt tight, the guilt clawing its way up his throat as he looked at you, fragile and exhausted in your mom’s arms. This was his fault. His child growing inside you, his DNA causing your body to break down, his life—the one you’d chosen to share—dragging you into this impossible situation. If you’d fallen for anyone else, someone normal, you wouldn’t be facing the possibility of not surviving childbirth.

Ben’s jaw clenched as he forced himself to speak, his voice rough and strained. “You think I don’t know?”, he said, his green eyes locking onto your dad’s. “You think I don’t get it? That if it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t be going through this?”.

Your dad opened his mouth to respond, but Ben didn’t let him. “I know it’s my fucking fault”, Ben said, his voice rising slightly, the frustration and guilt spilling out. “I know I’m the reason she’s in this mess. But don’t think for a second that I’m not doing everything I fucking can to fix it”.

Your mom glanced up at Ben, her face softening slightly, though her expression was still etched with worry. “Ben, no one is blaming you—”.

“Yes, you are”. Ben snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “And you´re right. I don’t care if you say it out loud or not—I know what you’re thinking. If it wasn’t for me, she’d be fine. She’d be safe”.

“Ben, stop”, you said softly, your voice thick with exhaustion. “This isn’t your fault. None of this is”.

“How can you say that?”, he muttered, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m the reason this is happening. I’m the one who put you in this position”.

“You didn’t force me to fall in love with you”, you said quietly, your voice steady despite the tears in your eyes. “You didn’t force me to choose this life, Ben. I did. And I’d choose it again, even knowing how hard it is. Because I love you”.

The room fell silent, the weight of your words settling over everyone. Ben stared at you, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his emotions in check. Finally, he let out a shaky breath, his hand tightening around yours.

“I just don’t want to lose you”, he said, his voice almost a whisper. “I can’t”.

As the evening settled, the room was quiet except for the faint hum of the bedside lamp. Ben sat behind you in bed, his strong arms wrapped protectively around you, cradling you in his lap. You leaned back against his chest, your head resting against his shoulder as your hands brushed softly over your growing belly. The baby moved faintly beneath your touch, and you spoke to her in a soothing, gentle voice, telling her little stories, your voice filled with a love that never wavered despite your exhaustion.

Ben stayed silent, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. He didn’t trust himself to speak, not with the turmoil churning inside him. He tightened his arms around you slightly, as if holding you closer could somehow anchor him, could somehow keep you tethered to him and away from the reality that loomed over both of you.

He tried to keep his emotions in check, tried to focus on the steady rhythm of your voice as you spoke to the baby. But his mind wouldn’t stop racing. How could he raise his daughter alone, without you? How could he navigate a world without the one person who made it all bearable, who made him better?

His chest tightened, the memories of the past few weeks crashing into him like waves. Just a short time ago, you’d both been so happy, so full of excitement and hope. The life you were building together had felt untouchable, like nothing could break the two of you. And now… now everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Without saying a word, Ben reached down and took your hand in his. His thumb brushed over the delicate band of the ring he had placed on your finger in Brazil. The memory of that moment—how beautiful and sure you’d looked, how his world had felt complete—hit him hard. He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Ben’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his thumb still tracing slow circles over the ring as he finally found the courage to speak. His voice was low and rough, almost a whisper, as he broke the heavy silence between you. “Promise me”, he said, his words trembling under the weight of emotion he rarely showed. “Promise me you’ll fight”.

You turned your head slightly, trying to see his face, but he was staring down at your hands, avoiding your gaze. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and he let out a shaky breath. “For me”, he continued, his voice cracking ever so slightly, “for her. Please”.

The word hung in the air, and it hit you harder than you expected. It was so unlike Ben to plead, to lay himself bare like this. He was always the strong one, the unshakable force that held everything together. Seeing him like this, vulnerable and desperate, made your heart ache.

You reached up with your free hand, cupping his cheek and gently turning his face toward you. His green eyes met yours, and you could see the fear there—the fear he��d been trying to bury, to mask with his usual bravado. “Ben”, you whispered, your voice soft but firm. “I’m not giving up. I’m fighting. I swear to you, I am”.

His jaw tightened, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as if drawing strength from you. “You say that”, he muttered, his voice quieter now, “but you’re so tired. And I—I don’t know how much more you can take”.

You shook your head, your hand sliding from his cheek to rest on his chest, right over his heart. “I can take more”, you said, your voice steady despite the tears brimming in your eyes. “Because I have to. For you. For her. I’m not leaving you, Ben”.

“Then stop showing me all this stuff”, he muttered, his frustration and fear bubbling to the surface. “I don’t need to know how to bathe her without drowning her, or how to swaddle her like she’s some little burrito, because you’ll be at my side”.

You blinked at him, your breath catching at the raw vulnerability in his words. He wasn’t just asking you to fight—he was demanding it, refusing to let himself believe in any other outcome. “Ben—”, you started, but he interrupted, his green eyes blazing.

“I’m serious”, he said, his voice rough but resolute. “I can’t stand hearing you talk like I have to do this alone. Like I have to figure it all out without you. I don’t need to know all that shit because you’ll be there. You promised”.

You nodded, your throat tightening as tears welled up in your eyes again. “I did”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “And I’ll keep that promise. I just—”. You paused, looking away for a moment before meeting his intense gaze again. “I just want to make sure everything is perfect for her. Just in case…”.

“No”, Ben said firmly, shaking his head as his hand cupped your face, forcing you to hold his gaze. “No just in case. We’re not doing that. We’re doing this together, and you’re going to be there to make it perfect yourself. Got it?”.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you nodded again, this time with more conviction. “Got it”, you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Ben leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek to wipe away the tear. “Good”, he muttered, his voice softening as he tried to steady himself. “Because I need you, doll. More than I can even say”.

You exhaled shakily, your hand resting over his on your cheek. “I need you too, Ben”.

For a long moment, the two of you stayed like that, clinging to each other as if the world outside the room didn’t exist.

By the time the due date was just four weeks away, the days had fallen into a rhythm of quiet intimacy. Ben stayed by your side almost constantly, rubbing oil on your belly, massaging your aching feet, and sitting beside you on the couch while the two of you watched movies. Most nights ended with you falling asleep on him, his strong arms cradling you as though he could shield you from the world. Those small moments of normalcy became everything—your shared anchor in the midst of the storm.

So, when you asked him for an hour or two alone that morning, Ben had been reluctant but agreed, albeit begrudgingly. Now, as he stood in the kitchen, staring at the half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, he felt utterly out of place. For weeks, he’d been glued to your side, hyper-focused on keeping you safe and ensuring you didn’t lift a finger. Now, without you nearby, he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

With a heavy sigh, Ben downed the rest of the drink and pushed the glass aside. Determined to stay busy, he wandered over to the dryer, pulling out the last few pieces of tiny baby clothes. He frowned as he tried to fold them neatly, muttering under his breath as the impossibly small socks refused to stay paired. Eventually, he gave up, leaving a messy pile on the counter.

Unable to ignore the pull in his chest any longer, he grabbed the clothes and headed toward the baby’s room. He hadn’t meant to disturb you, but the idea of you being alone for too long didn’t sit right with him. He figured he could pop in, drop off the clothes, and maybe just… check on you.

When he reached the doorway, he froze.

You were sitting in the rocking chair, your belly prominent and your face etched with concentration as you leaned over a small stack of papers. Your hand moved slowly, deliberately, across the page, and it took him a moment to realize what you were doing.

Letters.

His heart dropped as the realization hit him like a freight train. These weren’t just notes or lists; they were goodbye letters. One was addressed to your parents, another with “To My Baby” written in soft, shaky handwriting, and one more, sitting beside you, with his name written at the top.

“Y/N", Ben muttered, stepping into the room, his voice thick with disbelief and barely restrained anger. “What the fuck are you doing?”.

You startled, looking up at him with wide eyes, your hand freezing mid-sentence. “Ben”, you said softly, your voice wavering. “I thought I asked for some time—”.

“What the hell is this?”, he interrupted, gesturing toward the letters as he walked closer. His green eyes were blazing, his chest rising and falling with barely contained emotion. “You’re writing fucking goodbye letters? Is that what this is?”.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as you set the pen down. “It’s just in case”, you said quietly, your voice trembling. “I just… I needed to—”.

“No”, Ben growled, cutting you off as he dropped the clothes onto the dresser and moved closer to you. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to sit here and write shit like this, like you’re planning to leave”.

You looked away, unable to meet his piercing gaze. “Ben”, you whispered, your voice breaking. “You know what the odds are. I need to make sure—”.

“No!”, he snapped, crouching down in front of you, his hands gripping the armrests of the rocking chair. His voice cracked with emotion, the raw edge of his fear cutting through the air. “I don’t give a shit about the odds! You promised me you’d fight. You promised me you wouldn’t fucking give up”.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you finally looked at him, your heart breaking at the pain in his eyes. “I’m not giving up!", you said, your voice trembling. “I just… I need to be prepared, Ben. For her. For you”.

“I don’t need your damn letter”, he hissed, his voice thick as his hands moved to cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You think some piece of paper is gonna replace you? You think I’m gonna read your words and feel better when you’re not fucking here?”.

“Ben—”.

“No”, he said firmly, his voice dropping to a whisper as his thumbs brushed your tears away. “You’re not writing letters. You’re not leaving. You’re staying right here with me, with her.

"Please Ben… Just… keep them somewhere safe".

But Ben wasn’t having it. He shook his head, his jaw tight as he pushed the letters back toward you. “No”, he said firmly, his voice low and trembling with emotion. “I’m not keeping them. I’m not hiding them. These letters don’t fucking exist because you’re not going anywhere”.

“Ben—”, you started, but he cut you off, his hands gripping yours tightly as though he could hold you in place by sheer will.

“No. Listen to me”, he said, his voice breaking as his forehead dropped to rest against yours. “I can’t do this without you. I won’t do this without you. So you don’t get to prepare for some worst-case scenario like it’s inevitable. You hear me? You’re going to be here. You’re going to see her take her first steps. You’re going to watch her grow up. You’re going to be right here with us, every single day”.

Tears streamed down your face, but his resolve didn’t waver. His hands came up to cup your face again, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “You’re staying”, he repeated, his voice soft but unyielding. “You’re staying because I need you. She needs you. And I’ll be fucking damned if I let you go without a fight”.

The raw emotion in his voice shattered something inside you, and you collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest. His arms came around you, strong and steady, holding you as though his grip alone could anchor you to this world.

“Please, Ben”, you whispered against his chest, your voice breaking as you clutched the fabric of his shirt. “Please just take them. I need you to keep them”.

He stiffened, his arms tightening around you for a moment before pulling back to look at you. His jaw clenching as he shook his head. “No”, he said firmly, his voice rough but steady. “I’m not taking them. I’m not even going to pretend like this is an option”.

“Ben”, you pleaded, your hands trembling as you reached for his. “I need to know they’re somewhere safe. I need to know that if something happens—”.

“Nothing is going to happen”, he interrupted, his voice rising just enough to cut through the air. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to ground himself. “You’re not leaving me. You’re not leaving her. I won’t even entertain the fucking idea”.

Tears poured down your cheeks as you grabbed the letters from the table, pressing them against his chest with trembling hands. “Ben, please”, you begged, your voice breaking into a sob. “I’m not trying to give up. I’m not planning to leave. But if the worst happens, I need you to have these. I need to know you’ll tell her how much I love her”.

For a long moment, he said nothing, his breath shallow and uneven as he looked at you, torn between his fear and his love for you.

Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse and barely audible. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?”, he whispered. “You’re asking me to fucking accept the possibility of losing you. You’re asking me to prepare for something I can’t even think about without fucking falling apart”.

Your heart shattered at the anguish in his voice, and you nodded, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “I know”, you whispered. “I know I’m asking for too much, but Ben, I don’t want to leave you unprepared. I don’t want you to have nothing if—if I don’t—”.

“Stop”, he cut you off, his voice breaking as he dropped his forehead against yours again.

“Please, if you love me, just take them. Don’t read them. Just keep them somewhere safe. Promise me, Ben”, you said, your voice trembling as you pressed your hands harder against his chest, forcing him to feel the letters.

He let out a shaky breath, his face crumpling as he closed his eyes. For a long, agonizing moment, he didn’t move, and you thought he might refuse again. But then, slowly, he reached up and took the letters from your hands. His fingers trembled as he held them, his green eyes opening to meet yours, raw and vulnerable.

“I’ll take them”, he said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But only because it’s what you need. Not because I think I’ll ever have to read them. Because I won’t. You’re going to be here. You hear me? You’re going to be here”.

“I hear you”, you whispered, your voice breaking as you collapsed against him again, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Thank you, Ben. Thank you”.

He held you tightly, the letters clutched in one hand as his other wrapped around you, grounding you both in the shared fear and love that bound you together.

The evening was quiet, save for the low hum of the TV in the background. You were curled up in Ben’s lap on the couch, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he absently stroked your back. Outside, the world was preparing for Christmas, but inside your home, the festive spirit was dim. The half-hearted string of lights Ben had thrown over the window frame hung crookedly, blinking in mismatched intervals. You’d joked about it looking like a crime scene earlier, and Ben had tried to laugh, but you knew he hated that he couldn’t make things perfect for you.

Your stomach growled softly, a reminder that you hadn’t eaten much all day. The latest round of treatments had left you feeling weaker than ever, each injection draining a little more of the fight from your body. You sighed and began to shift in Ben’s arms, pushing yourself up.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing?”, Ben asked, his tone laced with concern as his hands immediately went to steady you.

“I’m getting some snacks”, you mumbled, your voice shaky but determined as you tried to push his hands away. “I need to eat something”.

Ben’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head, already moving to stand. “No, you’re not. Sit your ass back down. I’ll get it for you”.

But you shook your head, your hands gripping the armrest as you slowly stood up. The world tilted slightly, but you steadied yourself, breathing through the wave of dizziness. “No”, you said firmly, even though your voice was barely above a whisper. “I can do it. I need to do it”.

Ben stood as well, his arms hovering around you like a safety net as he watched you take a shaky step toward the kitchen. “Sweetheart, come on”, he said, his voice softer now but still tinged with worry. “You don’t have to prove anything. Let me take care of you”.

You stopped, your back to him as you gripped the edge of the couch for support. “It’s not about proving anything to you”, you murmured, your voice tight with emotion. “It’s about proving it to myself. I need to know I can still… do something. Anything”.

Ben was silent for a moment, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on your back. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Alright”, he said reluctantly. “But I’m staying right here. You fall, I’m catching you”.

You nodded, not trusting your voice as you took another step, then another. Each movement felt like a monumental effort, your legs trembling beneath you as you made your way toward the kitchen. When you finally reached the counter, you leaned against it, your hands shaking as you opened a cabinet and grabbed a box of crackers.

Ben hovered in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight as he watched you struggle. “You’ve got it, baby”, he said softly, his voice steady even though you could see the tension in his shoulders. “Take your time”.

You managed to grab the crackers and a jar of peanut butter, setting them on the counter before reaching for a plate. By the time you turned around, your knees were buckling, and Ben was there in an instant, his hands steadying you as he guided you back toward the couch.

“Alright, that’s enough hero shit for one night”, he said, his tone soft but firm as he helped you sit down. “You did good, but now you’re done”.

"Oh… Now I forgot the jam”, you muttered, half to yourself, half to Ben as you glanced toward the kitchen.

Ben immediately shot you a look, his brows furrowing. “Don’t even think about it”, he said, his tone a mix of exasperation and concern. “I’ll get it”.

But you were already trying to stand, determined once again to prove you could handle something, even if it was just fetching jam. “Ben, I’ve got it”, you said stubbornly, waving him off as you pushed yourself up.

“Damn it”, he growled under his breath, moving to your side as if he could physically stop you. “Why do you have to be so—”.

“Because I can do this!”, you interrupted, glaring at him as you took a careful step forward. “I’m still fighting, Ben. Let me do it”.

He threw up his hands, his jaw clenching in frustration. “Fine. Three steps. That’s all you’re getting before I step in”.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. One step. Two steps. Then, just as you took the third, a sudden rush of warmth spread down your thighs, and you froze in the middle of the living room.

Your breath hitched, your hands instinctively going to your belly as you looked down at the growing puddle on the floor. For a moment, your mind went blank, and then it hit you all at once.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 🥰

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings @fitxgrld @winchesterwild78 @uddiifiigj @libby99hb @urgogodancer @urinternetmom @mochminnie @laaadygisbooornex3 @fallout-girl219

[noonwardmoss]

😶 (original tweet)

[muldermuse]

ok but getting pregnant with ex!Butcher's baby and him getting all happy for baby trapping you

+this req: obsessed with the idea of toxic!exboyfriend!butcher knocking you up so you can’t leave him

everytime you’ve gone to take your contraceptive, he’s purposefully distracted you. he’s wormed his way back into your life, he’s been staying at yours for well over two weeks now. he fucks you raw, slamming his cock so deep in you that there’s no chance his cum can slip out

he only cums in you, even when you get on your knees for him- he’s begging to fuck you and he makes you feel so good that you never say no

he’s delighted when you hand him 4 positive pregnancy takes a month or so later. he holds your trembling hand, pressing kisses to your head and telling you, with certainty, that you’re going to be the happiest little family

“s’us forever baby- me, you and the little us. ‘m gonna take care of us”

you cry when you see tears in his eyes, you think it’s because he’s happy and of course he is- he’s happy that you belong to him forever now

[kamisobsessed]

i honestly drooled a little damn he's so beautiful

Photos of Jensen that make me feral ✨pt.1✨

[buffyscmmers]

uncertain then certain a gif series of kisses based on this text post

frenchie and kimiko from the boys

[lillaurenp96]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Vibes of a Black Girl ™ (@vibesofablackgirl)

Dope post about the different protective hairstyles black characters wore/had in 2023 and 2024 on TV and Film🥰🥰🥰

Also a cool account to follow they have cool facts/updates/history about black women doing amazing things in all types of fields #vibesofablackgirl

[agepl0yer]

tell me im in trouble - soldier boy

warnings - dom!ben, brat!reader, brat tamer!ben, gentle but rough ben, consensual slaps, daddy kink, perv!ben, panties sniffing, insecure!reader

words - 635

—————————————————————

you’re so pretty when you take control.

—————————————————————

you twirl on the balls of your feet, ben’s eyes following your every step.

“ben? please? im so sorry, I won’t be a brat! coomeee on!”

ben smirks as he runs his hand through your hair

“we both know that’s a lie, you’re a full on brat.”

you stomp on your feet as you huff

“ben! come ooon!”

-

“be good for me yeah?”

-

“you’re teasing me now stop!”

ben smiles as he gently traces your jaw, kissing your cheek as he then leaves trails of kisses on your jaw.

“you’re such an ass ben!”

“shhh, be good, be good for me and good things will happen.”

you pushed at ben’s chest, full of lust and neediness.

“ben, come on! i want to f-“

all of sudden, ben picked you up, hand on your ass, you over his shoulder

“you’re in trouble.”

you giggle in excitement.

ben places you on the bed roughly as you giggle.

“do your worst daddy, break me like a curse.”

ben smirks as he throws you over his knee

“you wanna talk to me like that huh, count for me.”

a rough slap lands on your bottom by bens large hand, you whine in pleasure, ben smirks.

you count.

(a couple slaps later, you’re still a bit bratty and giggly.)

“so good for me, aren’t you?”

you cross your wrists together as you smirk up at ben

ben ties your wrists together, making it tight with the ribbons he took from your hair.

“you’re safe with me.”

ben places his large hands on either side of your hips as he gently pulls forward, a groan escapes him as you whine.

“mm, you playing this game ben? you heard me earlier didn’t you? break me.”

“you’re digging your own grave you little devil.”

ben slowly speeds up, teasing you as you huff and whine

“bennnn!”

then he slams into you.

mumbles come out of you, making a mess.

“such trouble aren’t you, beautiful?”

you claw at the back of ben as he groans

“harder ben!”

“alright, you little brat.”

your legs bend as ben slams harder and deeper

you cry out.

ben kisses over your face as he smiles.

“so so so pretty, aren’t you? so gorgeous for me, all pretty faced.”

you giggle shyly even while naked infront of him.

ben scoops you up as you squeal, he kisses the side of your head.

“you’re safe with me, just don’t be no trouble for me.”

————————————————————

a couple weeks later, your favourite pair of black panties were missing, the one you had one last time you had fun with ben.

“ben? where are you, i can’t find my panties.”

no answer

‘he must be out with butcher and poor hughie’ you thought.

until there was a particular groan that came from Ben’s room.

“ben?” you push the door open, and there he was.

your face went beet red, embarrassed and a bit insecure.

ben was stuffing his face with your panties, his nose shoved into the middle of your panties, soaked in with the smell of you.

“um, ben, what are you doing?”

ben smirks, he licks his lips.

“you always walk around with this smell? god help me.”

“I don’t smell that good ben, yuck stop.”

bens smirk faltered a little bit, he narrowed his eyes.

“you don’t believe me? your boyfriend, the one who worships the ground for you?”

“i mean, my ex-“

“don’t worry about those guys, bunch of weak men, i love the way you taste, smell, look, everything. you’re my god.”

you cover your face in a bit of shy moment

“oh my gosh ben.”

ben practically falls to his knees as he smirks up at you.

“want me to show you?”

you glance down at him, face full of embarrassment and a bit turned on.

“bennn.”

—————————————————————

if you do not enjoy my writing, that’s alright, no need to hate tho, just block me !! :)

[inna-pooh]

I love how dark his eyes are. Love bags under his eyes, the blood splatters… just perfect 🙌

Another season of The Boys 🤝 Hughie getting his face covered in blood

THE BOYS 4.08 "Assassination Run"

[vintagefairryy]

I get humbled real fast when I catch myself blushing too hard at a picture of a man ੈ✩‧₊

[lemanntim]

"little devil" 🍓 commission open

[norman-b]

I know homelander is vain as shit and he’d want every pic to be perfect, he’d snatch your phone if you caught him at an unflattering moment. But his boomer ass doesn’t know how to take selfies by himself, it’s always someone else holding the phone, so when he sends you a selfie it’s just