#soldier boy

[emeraldcrs]

i think my thighs would look good over his shoulders

[soldiersgirl]

gonna put this in my wallet and tell people im a military wife who misses her husband

[abhorrentapple]

stop beating your boyfriend up.

SOLDIER BOY v BUTCHER The Boys | The Instant White-Hot Wild (3.08)

[justjensenanddean]

Nexus point news: ‘The Boys’ Spin-off ‘Vought Rising’ Gets Its Writers’ Room

[figthoughts]

i’ve got this soldier boy smut that i’ve almost finished writing and it features butcher….. how would we feel if butcher kinda just…. watched…?

likeeeee i’m not even into butcher but the idea of him watching reader lose her shit ??? hmmm teehee

[honeyryewhiskey]

GIRLS LIKE YOU . . .

. . . REMIND ME THAT I'M LONELY

synopsis ! you catch soldierboy's eye at a penthouse party full of nyc's socialites. your daring attitude kinda pisses him off but he can’t help wanting more warnings ! smut with plot 18+, strong language, drug/alcohol use, pet names / no use of y/n, manhalding, teasing, mouth play, slight choking, fingering j's note ! this is my first sb fic if he sucks imsosorry & maybe pixie!reader the socialite will be a thing idk — inspired by the song 'girls like you' by miguel 3k words

Ben has been to enough of these parties to know better. The same overindulgent crowd, drowning in expensive liquor and bad decisions, pretending they aren't all bored out of their minds. Another penthouse after party, another round of coke laid out on a mirrored tray, another desperate attempt of the city’s richest heirs to feel like they’re worth something more.

He should leave. He tells himself to leave.

But then his eye catches on you.

Draped over a velvet couch, laughing like the world exists solely for your amusement. People flock around you, drawn in, drinking up the energy you infuse into the space. You’re all soft skin, wicked grins, and just enough mischief in your eyes to be a problem.

A fucking PR nightmare. That’s what Ashley—or any of those Vought assholes—would call you. A spoiled little socialite wasting daddy’s money on your favorite paraphernalia and bad decisions. The kind of girl he should avoid while he’s trying to rebuild his image.

But then you spot him, and for the first time all night, Ben doesn’t feel like just another overpaid, overhyped god amongst men. You look at him like he’s a thrill, not a headline.

"Soldier Boy," you purr, tilting your head as you sip from a flute of something bubbly. "Didn’t think this was your scene, we don’t usually see supes of your caliber around here."

"It’s not," he grumbles, but he doesn’t move an inch. Just looms over you, eyes raking over the delicate dress hanging off your body. It barely covers you, and normally, Ben would have something to say about that. But it shimmers, even in this dim light—like a million little stars—and all he can think about is getting beneath that galaxy.

You laugh, the sound light and playful, and hold out a hand. “Forgive me, I only know you by your supe name.”

He flashes that charming smile, the one you’ve seen plastered on billboards across the city. But up close, in the flesh, it carries a tantalizing feeling that you just want to devour. He reaches over, taking your smaller hand in his, his grasp firm as his hand swallows yours. “Ben.”

You’re no stranger to being around men who command attention—men people fawn over, obsess over. Another super-powered figure in tight spandex hardly fazes you. But this one, this man—he’s different. Dressed in a simple black shirt and jeans, he almost looks normal, like he could blend into the crowd. Almost.

The way the fabric clings to his broad shoulders, how his biceps flex with the slightest movement, even his features catch the glow of the party—there’s nothing ordinary about him. He carries an effortless power, something raw and unpolished, something just barely restrained. It’s exactly the kind of energy that you want to capture and toy with just to see what happens.

Your fingers squeeze around his before you withdraw, your glossy lips curling into a devious little smile. “My friends call me Pixie.”

His brow quirks at the nickname, and he looks like he’s going to make a comment on the peculiar name. 

Before he can get a word out, the guy lounging beside you snorts, flicking the ash off his cigarette. “Yeah, ‘cause she rides dick like she’s got wings.” 

Ben’s eyes snap to him, his brows coiling in disgust. But before he can say a word, you roll your eyes and rise to your feet in one fluid motion. You don’t even look at the guy as you take Ben’s hand and tug. He gives into your pull, content on the fact that he’d happily follow you into any hidden corner of your choosing.  “Come on, hero. Let’s find some privacy.”

Ben follows your lead, watching the gentle sway of your sparkling dress as you take him out onto the balcony. The city sprawls out below, glittering like the edge of a world only the two of you exist in now.

And for the first time in a long time, Ben feels something other than numb without the help of a little upper in his system.

The party fades into a distant hum, the bass rattling through the glass as the door clicks shut behind him. Out here, the city stretches wide—dozens of lights blinking into the night sky, but Ben’s eyes are locked on you.

You sigh, stretching your arms over your head before resting them against the balcony railing. Your subtle lean over the bar pulls the fabric of your dress just enough to distract him, but you act like you don’t notice—or maybe you do. Either way, you flash him a lazy, knowing smile.

"So, Ben," you murmur, rolling his name off you tongue like it was always meant to come from your lips. You tilt your head up towards him, curiosity dancing in your gaze. "What’s got you out and about with the city’s finest?"

He huffs a laugh, taking his time drinking in the sight of your silhouette against the banister before stepping up beside you.

"Needed to get away from those fucking Vought robots," he mutters, his voice rough, eyes still tracing the slope of your neck and shoulders. He can’t help the wandering thoughts, wondering just how soft your skin would feel in his mouth. He clears his throat, "they’ve got all these rules for supes now—fucking suffocating."

A giggle rolls out of you, light and teasing. It stokes the fire you’ve started in him, warming him from the inside out. "Is that so?"

Pushing off the railing, you scan the patio, searching for something. Ben watches as you drift toward a low table where a glass tray sits—papers, a round container, all the right tools. It's a neat sitting area tucked into the corner, with the perfect view, nestled against the side railing.

You glance at him over your shoulder, mouth curving in that wicked little smile again as you crook a finger.

"Come along," your voice ripples like silk. "I’ve got just what you need."

And just like that, he’s following without a second thought, settling onto the cushioned bench beside you.

The first hit settles in your lungs, warm and slow, before you exhale toward the sky. The city sprawls beneath you and for the first time tonight, you feel excited to pick apart someone’s brain. You pass the joint to Ben, watching as he takes it between rough fingers, bringing it to his lips.

You lean your head back to reel in the substance mixing with the alcohol in your bloodstream. Letting the cool night air kiss your skin. “So, what’s the story, golden boy? Do you always do what Vought tells you?”

Ben rolls his jaw, taking a slow drag before flicking the ash into a nearby tray. When he scoffs, a puff of smoke ripples around you. “A little princess like you sure is one to fuckin’ talk,” he shakes his head, sucking in another hit, “You always do what Daddy tells you?”

That makes you laugh—genuine, unrestrained—and you don’t miss the way his shoulders relax just slightly. You tilt your head towards him, catching his hardened stare, “depends who you’re talking about,” you murmur, a teasing smile playing at your lips. “But I meant it. This whole America’s hero act. Is it really you?”

His lips curl into a lazy smile, head tilting as he rolls the words around in his head. “I’m a simple man. What you see is what you get, Pixie.”

You hum, unconvinced, the bare skin of your thigh brushes against his jeans as you recross them. The movement catches his eye, as he unabashedly watches the way the hem of your dress hikes higher from the resposition. “I don’t know,” you sigh, looking him over like the answer is somewhere between his pretty lips and wide shoulders. “I think there’s more under all that muscle and ego.”

His eyes drag over you, slow and assessing, like he’s deciding whether he gives a damn about what you think. He doesn’t, not genuine at least. But he’s certainly enjoying watching your pretty little brain try to pluck him apart. “Uh, huh,”  he grumbles, passing the blunt into your hand, “and what is it you think you see?”

You take another hit, watching the smoke curl toward the sky before flicking your gaze back to him. “A man who likes being in control, hates being told anything about himself.” 

You reach over to poke two nails into his chest, the cherry of the blunt burning between your extended fingers. “But there’s somethin’ in here, something I could play with.” 

His expression shifts, scowl giving way to amusement as his eyes bore into yours. Theres a subtle movement in his lap—the faintest twitch of his fingers, like he wants to reach up and crush the hand making accusations at his heart. His eyes twitch, jaw flexing with his indecision. 

Instead, he just nods, “you got me all figured out, huh?” His tone dips, rougher now.

“Not yet,” you correct with a flick of your wrist, passing the joint back to him. This time, when he reaches for it, you don’t let go right away. Your fingers brush. A pause. He watches you pull your bottom lip between your teeth before letting go.

“And what about you?” the smoke pools from his parted lips. “What’s your deal?”

You stretch, the straps of your dress slipping just slightly. His eyes track the fall of strings, the slight sagging material at the center reveals more of the skin of your chest, amusement flickering across his face.

“I just like to have a good time,” you shrug, leaning onto your hands in a slight invasion of his space. “And right now, you look like a very good time.”

His grip on the joint tightens, the muscles of his jaw popping beneath skin—and you know you’ve got him.

You lean closer, tilting your chin up to him, “You gonna keep eye-fucking me all night,” you tease, “or you gonna do something about it?”

Ben exhales slowly, smoke curling past his lips as he leans back, one arm draped lazily over the back of the bench. But the other hand—his fingers, thick and scarred, rest just within reach of your thigh.

His smirk deepens, eyes dark and full of a slow-burning warning. “Princess,” he drawls, voice like gravel and honey, “you keep talkin’ like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you want something from me.”

You tilt your head, your own smirk playing at the edges of your lips as you lean further, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. “And if I do?”

Ben doesn’t answer. Not with words.

His hand moves fast, rough fingers sliding beneath your jaw, pushing your chin up just enough to make you catch your breath. His thumb drags over your lips, pressing down just enough to part them.

"You talk too much," he mutters, before sliding his thumb into your mouth.

You hum in amusement, letting your tongue flick over the pad of his finger before sucking lightly, playing along. His eyes stay trained on your rounded lips, a slow smile etching across his features. But just as he starts to enjoy it, you sink your teeth in—not enough to hurt, just enough to test him.

Ben's expression falls instantly, a sharp rage flashing in those green irises. His jaw tenses, a slow exhale through his nose, and for a split second, you think maybe you pushed too far—

Then you giggle, all sweet and innocent as you pull away, leaning back like you hadn’t just pressed every single one of his buttons.

Ben’s never been a patient man, never had to be. As quickly as you leave his space, his restraint snaps.

The blunt is flicked into the ashtray—forgotten. Strong hands clamp onto your hips, and before you can react, he plucks you from your seat like you weigh nothing, dragging you into his lap with a rough pull.

A startled laugh escapes you, hands bracing against his chest, but Ben just smirks up at you, his grip firm, possessive. He’s staring at you with a challenge, like he’s daring you to keep pushing him. 

"You think you're funny, huh?" His voice is thick, low, teasing as his fingers dig into your thighs. "Keep it up, dollface, and I’ll show you what’s really fucking funny."

You roll your eyes, lips curling into a near-pout. "Quit threatening me and do something about it, Ben. Like a real man."

His smirk falters, replaced by a scowl as his fingers tighten around your hips. The pressure hurts, but it's enough to let you know you’ve hit a nerve. Something raw. Something real.

It makes your head spin.

The air between you crackles, charged with the reckless thrill of toying with a man who could easily snap you in half. It's a rush you've been craving, stronger than any drug or drink coursing through your veins.

Ben’s thumb drags slowly along your hip, deliberate, before his other hand fists in your hair, tugging just enough to make your chin tilt up with a whimper. His other hand seizes both your wrists, locking you into place.

"Helpless," he murmurs, eyes devouring the sight of your half-lidded gaze, your lips parted just slightly. When your hips roll against his lap, he makes a low sound in his throat—a mix between a chuckle and a warning.

"You’re a fucking trip."

Without hesitation, he pulls you forward, crashing his mouth against yours.

The kiss is hot, wild—teeth clashing, lips parting, and his grip on you is so firm it feels like he's staking his claim. His hands tighten in your hair, pulling you down harder against him, as if he wants you closer. Needs you closer.

He lets go of your wrists and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into the back of his neck. You grind against his hardening bulge, the friction making you moan in his mouth.

The sound only makes him kiss back harder, a messy fight of lips trying to claim dominance over one another.

You bite his bottom lip, just to tease, to see how far you can push him—but it backfires. He growls, hands moving swiftly as he flips you, slamming you against the railing. Your knees dig into the bench as he presses against your back.

"You just don’t know when to quit, do you?" His voice is rough, laced with something wicked.

You smile at him over your shoulder, breathless. "Not when I’m winning."

Ben chuckles low and dark, his hands trailing your dress up and over you with deliberate slowness. "Pretty thing, you’re not winning." His lips brush your ear as his voice drops to a husky whisper.

"I’m just getting started."

With your dress shoved up over your hips, you gasp at the quick sound of fabric ripping. Your panties fall, torn past the point of fixing. 

The air feels cool against newly exposed skin, and Ben wastes no time—his rough fingers rubbing your slick folds. The sudden pressure makes you gasp, clutching onto the railing as your mind flutters. 

“Like a real man, huh?” he gruffs, your comment from earlier evidently still taking up too much space in his mind, “you’ve got some fucking nerve saying that shit to me, y’know that?” 

You open your mouth to try and respond, but it’s cut off by his other hand coming up to wrap around your neck. He grips tight, pulling you forward in one hand and shoving two fingers inside of you with the other. The railing digs into the top of your rib cage, but you can hardly notice the pain from it when he’s working you with his moving hand.

The sounds falling from your lips are pathetic and needy, but it makes Ben’s pants tighter to hear you melting into his touch. Your arousal coats his fingers as he shoves his knuckles inside, not an ounce of his movements are gentle. 

But it makes your knees weak and pussy weep to receive his frustrated aggression. 

His fingers retract, but the absence is quickly replaced by the pads of his fingers pressing into you clit. He works circles on your sensitive spot that makes you lean down into his touch—but the movement is corrected by the quick slap of his wet fingers to your core. 

You damn near yelp in response. “Nuh, uh,” he huffs, the hand around your neck pulling your body forward again, half your body over the railing now. You have to screw yours eyes shut to keep from looking down where the ground is a dizzying distance from where you lean over the balcony. 

You keep still, save for your hands clinging to his wrist by your neck. “Good girl,” he chuckles, his fingers back to working circles on your clit like it’s a praise for listening to him. 

“You like this shit don’t you?” he chides, “being a fuckin’ brat until you get what you want.” 

You merely hum back, eyes fluttering closed again as he slips his fingers back inside, your walls instantly clenching around his thick digits as his movements become harder. 

His grip around your neck tightens, stealing just enough air to make your mind go spotty for a second, “didn’t catch that princess.” 

“Yes,” you mumble, your thighs instinctively closing together as the knot forms deep in your core. His strength makes it easy for him to pump his hand in and out of you faster, harder. 

As his fingers curl inside of you as he moves, making you whimpering again, practically humping his hand. The sight ignites an amusement within him that devours the rage you tempted out of him. 

It was worth it, he decided, letting you piss him off was worth this sight of you pathetic and needing him for a release. 

He releases his grip on your neck to wrap your hair around his fist, tugging enough to make tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. “‘m not fucking you, yet,” he decides out loud, eyes watching the needy buck of your hips into his hand, “I wanna see you cum like this, for me.” 

You whimper again, “but—“ you breathe, but it’s cut off by his grunt as he tugs your hair.

“Nuh, uh,” in one swift movement he releases your hair, slipping his hand around your waist to claim your sensitive clit beneath his fingers while his other hand pumps into you mercilessly. 

It’s almost overstimulating to have both his hands on you like this, your thighs pressed tight together and the knot in your core breaks under his touch. 

“Fuck, Ben,” you’re panting as your release makes your legs shake. Your hand clutching his arm to hold yourself up. 

As your mind comes back down to earth, Ben’s breathy chuckle fills the air, rich and smug. He steps back, keeping just out of reach, watching you like a predator amused by his prey. The city lights cast sharp shadows over his face, highlighting the cut of his jaw, the smirk twisting his lips. His hair is a little messier now, a few strands falling over his forehead, and his chest rises and falls with the steady rhythm of someone who always gets what he wants.

When you shift to sit properly on the bench, he stands over you, broad shoulders blocking out the city skyline, the joint back between his fingers. Taking a slow, deliberate drag, he watches you through half-lidded eyes, sharp and assessing, like he’s still deciding whether to ruin you or let you stew in your own anticipation for more of him.

Then, with practiced ease, he catches your jaw in his free hand, tilting your chin up, forcing your gaze to his. His palm is rough, warm, his grip just firm enough to remind you who’s in control. He exhales smoke past your parted lips as he leans in. “I think you and me could have a helluva lot more fun.”

His head tilts, tongue running along his bottom lip as his gaze drags over your face, hungry and contemplative. Like he’s measuring your worth. Testing you. “What’d you think, princess?”

Your breath still stutters, but that little devious smile creeps back onto your lips as you nod—slow, teasing, full of promise.

Ben’s lazy smile stretches wider, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth before pulling away. His voice dips, low and rough. “That’s what I thought.”

And just as easily as he reeled you in, he steps back, leaving you with the slow burn of anticipation, the feel of being in his grasp etched into your mind.

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @soldiersgirl @jollyhunter @ultravi0lence14 @ultravi0lence14

if i may yap once more. . . i’m envisioning a dynamic of reader and sb getting hooked on each other like a bad drug. obsessive, pushing the boundaries, messy, i think this could be fuuunnn 🤭

[bluemerakis]

his micro-expressions always get me

Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy ⤷ The Boys S03E06: Herogasm | dir. Nelson Cragg

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Heyooo it’s Random Question Time! 😜

This one might be tough, since all these guys aren’t exactly expressive with their feelings, but…

Who says “I love you” the most: Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), or Russell Shaw? 💜

This was a welcome surprise, Alex! (I may or may not have spent my lunch break and most of the day thinking through this question 😂) This was a bit tricky but I think I got some good answers 😉

In order of who I think verbally says "I love you" from least to most is below!

Who says "I Love You" The most:

Soldier Boy (Ben):

You'd be able to count on one hand and have fingers to spare the times you'd heard Soldier Boy say I love you out loud. He's not one for expressing his feelings, especially an admission of love. Ben says I love you in other ways though. It's in how he lets you hold him on the couch without a snide remark about how he doesn't cuddle. It's in how doesn't hide away anymore when you catch a tear fall down his cheek after a nightmare. It's in how he gives up the drugs and drinks less without a word. No, he doesn't say I love you out loud but you feel it every day with the oh so slow softening of his sharp edges.

Dean Winchester:

Dean doesn't say I love you unless someone is dying. It feels like something's wrong with him that he can't let the words out that others say so easily. God knows he loves the people in his life to a soul crushing degree. The words have always held a weight to them, words that had to be earned by the gravity of the moment. Dean said the words often to Sam when he was young, trying to make up for John's lack of them. Somewhere along the way, he lost that. And those three little words couldn't be bore to you until the wrong time, until you were slipping away. He'd never forget the way your eyes shifted behind closed lids when he whispered them, the way you found a thread of life to grasp to. You never even remembered his proclamation once you'd recovered. You didn't know and that really pissed him off. So he stormed into the kitchen, uttered those three words and slammed his lips to yours. He still struggled to say the words with any regularity but he damn made sure you knew all the same.

Russell Shaw:

Russell is a flirt and at the same time, oh so scared of letting anyone into his heart. Passive flings, hookups on the road, it's all good and well for scratching an itch. But underneath the dangerous parts of him, there's a softness that makes him yearn for love and when he finds it, he's not willingly letting go. Russell had an untraditional childhood but through it all, he saw his parents love for each other. Every night before bed he murmurs the words against your lips, a gentle reminder turned happy ritual that makes a very unordinary man feel like for the briefest of moments, he never lost out on anything at all.

Beau Arlen:

Beau wears his heart on his sleeve more than the others. He doesn't hide his fear, his anger, his joy, as well as you'd think he would being a cop. But that's what makes him so wonderful when he falls in love again. Because it took a lot of self-reflection to get there and once he's made up his mind, he's not hiding it. I love you when you wake. I love you notes in your lunch for work. I love you when you hang up the phone. I love you when you brush past each other in the kitchen. I love you when you fall into bed together. Beau knows he screwed up in the past by not saying how he felt and he's determined to never make that mistake again.

____________

A/N: Let me know if you guys agree with my ranking or have other ideas!

[deerlysacred]

❦ burgundy sheets & golden glimmers ⧼ soldier boy x witch fem!reader ⧽ | playing house

⟆ the second chapter of the ‘playing house’ series.

𐂂 𝄢 01 : 46 a.m. 🕰️ { the tension between you two flares up when soldier boy comes into your room in the middle of the night, leading to irresistible urges… }

𖣂 𝄢 fluff at first, smut. the smut includes : pussy slapping, y/n is inexperienced, v-card loss, choking, unprotected sex. you've been warned.

♪ i listened to 'take it off' by keni titus while writing this, i recommend you guys to listen to it while reading too ❤️

‼️ 𝄢 i do not own the boys or any of its characters; all rights belong to their respective creators. this is purely a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only, with no intention of profit.

Your dream was ridiculous, really. Something about an eagle making pancakes, a hamster —with a stupid looking hat— chewing on a nut.

Oh— great. The eagle just dropped a pan. It clattered loudly against the ground, and the poor hamster flailed onto its back, legs frozen midair. Gone because of a tragic tiny heart attack… But wait— no, the little lady twitched, shook herself off. She was alive!

That should've been a relief. But then the eagle turned, golden eyes locking onto you, all threatening and weird. Its beak opened wide, talons flexing—

You had to run—

Knock.

Your entire body jolted awake. A sharp gasp punched from your throat as your heart lurched. The dream slipped away in a haze of grogginess, you remembered your stupid dream and rubbed your eyes, yawning — eagles, pancakes, hamsters? What the hell? Blinking heavily, you pushed yourself up on your elbows. The room was dark, blanketed in a peaceful quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and your own uneven breathing. Maybe you imagined it—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your jaw clenched.

Oh, right. How could I forget the man-child next door?

You flopped back into the pillows with a muffled groan, pressing your face into the warmth of the fabric. Ignore him. He's just being an ass. He'll get bored eventually if you don't react to him and—

Knockknockknockknockknock.

"Ben!" you grumbled, voice muffled, laced with exhaustion. Your tone clearly carried that 'Stop it before I kill you and then myself' meaning in disguise.

A pause for a second. Then, his voice was heard through the thin wall, you could imagine his shameless smirk, it was obvious through the way he sounded. "You're awake."

"Well, not by choice."

You could hear him running his fingers through his beard. "Great. Can't sleep either."

You exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down your face. "So naturally, you decided I should suffer too."

"Misery loves company, sweetheart." The wall creaked faintly— he must have shifted, probably leaning against it. "C'mon, entertain me."

"Entertain yourself," you muttered, rolling onto your other side. "You got two whole hands, put 'em to work."

He let out a loud, amused chuckle. "Wow. Dirty mind on you, huh? Thought I was the pervert."

Your brain stalled, heat licked up the back of your neck. "That's— not what I meant!"

"Sure it wasn't. You think about me like that often, witchy?"

Oh, he is lucky there is a wall between us. You clenched your fists, resisting the very real urge to hex a hole straight through it. "I swear, if you don't let me sleep—"

Ben made a dramatic yawning sound. "Ooooh, big scary witch threats. Whatcha gonna do? Curse me with eternal blue balls?"

"I will set your bed on fire."

"You'd have to come in here to do that. C'me here, there is a big sad blank space next to me beneath these blankets."

Your eye twitched. "Ben."

"Witchy."

"Go. To. Sleep."

Silence. For a moment, you thought —hoped— he'd given up. Then, low and all smug—

"Make me."

That was it. That was it.

You kicked off your blanket with a huff, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. As you stood, you tugged at the hem of your sleep shorts, suddenly aware of how short they were, how the cool night air brushed against your bare skin.

Before anything else, you reached for the curtains, yanking them open. Silver moonlight spilled into the room, soft and pale, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. You moved on autopilot, lighting a few scented candles on your bedside table since there was a blackout in this part of the city currently, the flames' delicate glow flickering against the walls. The room smelled faintly of jasmine and something warm. You inhaled deeply, grounding yourself before you stormed towards the door, wrenching it open. At the same time, Ben's door swung open too, and suddenly— oh.

Oh.

He was closer than you expected. Standing right there in the dim hallway, leaning lazily against the doorframe, shirt hanging loose around his broad shoulders, sweatpants slung low on his hips. Barefoot. Smirking. And looking way too pleased with himself.

You folded your arms, schooling your expression into something unimpressed. "Happy now?"

Ben's gaze flicked over you, checking you out shamelessly, lingering on the hem of your sleep shorts, the oversized band tee slipping off one shoulder. His smirk deepened. "Much better now, yeah."

You should've worn something less… soft. The cotton felt too thin against your skin, and the way his eyes dragged over you wasn't helping either.

You scowled. "What do you want, Ben?"

He tilted his head, like he was considering his options. "Can't sleep."

"So?"

"So I figured you could help."

Your stomach did a very stupid, very annoying flip. "Help how?"

His lips twitched. "Relax, sweetheart. Just talk to me or somethin'. Give me a bedtime story."

"You're an actual menace."

"And yet, here you are, entertaining me."

Your mouth opened— then shut. Damn it. He had a point.

Ben grinned, and before you could stop him, he stepped forward into your room, breezing past you like he belonged there. You turned on your heel, staring in mild horror as he flopped onto your bed without a care in the world, stretching out as he yawned, folding his arms behind his head. "Comfy."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Breathe in and out, in and out, in and out… After rolling your eyes, you sat next to him, putting a significant space between you two. "Well, big baby, couldn't you at least try count sheep or something?"

"Already tried it. Then I even imagined blowing 'em up with C4. Didn't help."

You scoffed. "Jesus Christ. Of course, you did. Considering casting a sleeping spell on you right now, you in?"

His smirk deepened. "You can try. Wouldn't work, though."

Oh? You crossed your arms, thinking if it was a challenge or a statement. "It absolutely would."

"Nah. Shit like that don't stick to me." He stretched, biceps flexing behind his head. "Guessin' it's somethin' to do with my body adaptin' to outside interference. Knockout gas, drugs, magic— don't last long. Kinda tragic, really. Gotta drink a ton of shit to even be close to getting drunk."

You blinked. That was tragic. He was a walking shield, tougher than anything, but also incapable of tasting the small, human indulgences and perks that makes the life worth living. You frowned slightly, a flicker of sympathy tugging at your expression, you felt a little sorry for him. "So you've never been affected by magic? Not once?"

Ben let out a low, amused huff, eyes flicking toward the ceiling like he was having a flashback you couldn't see before he murmured. "Not never."

You were absolutely sure you were gonna regret asking that but unfortunately, you were too intrigued. You nudged his foot lightly with your own. "Oh? Do tell."

"Hmm… You sure?" He grumbled under his breath, scrubbing a hand through his beard thoughtfully like he was debating whether to tell you or not; but when he glanced at you and saw your curious eyes, he gave in with a sigh. "Alright, fine. Had a thing with a witch once back in the '80s. We met in one of those sappy PR shows I used to sing at."

You blinked. "A witch?"

"Yeah, yeah, don't look so damn shocked. We got along fine— for a while, anyway. Sex was fuckin' fantastic. She was a real creative one in bed. Got it in her head that if she messed around with magic enough, she could make me —y'know— recharge faster. We had a routine, she would do her thing, wavin' her hands, chantin' some shit— then ta-da. My dick back to life."

You sputtered, covering your face with your hands. "Ben."

Ben seemed too pleased with himself as he watched your flustered state, he propped himself up on one elbow, grinning at your horrified expression. "Worked for a bit, too. At first. Couple spells here, some fancy incantations, and boom— good as new. Didn't matter how many times I finished, I'd be ready to go again in minutes like a machine for hours. Only problem was, after a while, my body caught on. Adapted. Stopped workin'. She got real frustrated."

Your face burned. You didn't need that visual. You really didn't need that visual.

Ben snorted as he saw your too-stunned-to-speak reaction. "You ever had a woman yell Latin at your dick in frustration? 'Cause I have."

You wheezed, you just couldn't hold it in anymore. It was absurd, you were still a little annoyed at him for waking you up but… You were entartained, let's be honest.

Ben watched you laugh with a softer gaze, clearly enjoying himself as you gasped for breath, clutching your stomach. "Stop— oh my God, I can't—" You swiped at your watering eyes, shaking your head. "Ben, that is— that's tragic, and hands down one of the worst things I've ever heard."

Ben let his head fall back agaist the headboard, an eyebrow quirked up. "Oh, c'mon. You're tellin' me you're not just a little impressed?"

You threw your hands up. "Why—Why would I be impressed?!"

He straightened his posture, shifting a little so his legs stretch a bit more. Looking you up and down. "Because, witchy, that means no matter what kinda spell you try, I ain't goin' down easy."

Your stomach flipped.

Ben must've noticed, because his smirk widened as he suddenly sat up, leaning into your space just a little, his broad frame making the bed dip. His voice dropped, lower, rougher. "If I wanted to stay up all night, I would." It was the way he said it —the way his gaze flickered over your face, pausing at your lips. The slow, deliberate lean-in, the heat radiating off him, the masculine scent of him, it was maddening.

You were sure your cheeks turned redder than Mr. Krabs in SpongeBob SquarePants. Which was a sign that you needed to bolt away before things went out of control. Well, no. Not you. It would be stupid of you to run away since it was your room, your bed. The burgundy velvet sheets looked too comfy to get away from anyway. You needed to kick him out.

You forced yourself to scoff and looked away, feigning a confidence you absolutely did not feel. "Good for you. Now get out of my bed."

He didn't move. "Or what?"

"Or—" Your brain struggled to form an actual threat that would scare him away, but too distracted by the fact that his knee was almost touching yours, that his voice was this low, that the way he was looking at you right now could not be legal. You felt the mattress shift as he suddenly pulled you down to him, your back hitting the sheets in a single swift movement, you gasped. He was leaning over you now, his face barely inches from yours, that damn smirk still playing on his lips.

"You're not very experienced in this department, are you?" He asked, and the answer was clear without ever speaking a word if you were right about the thing he meant. Your nervous energy, your trembling body, your wide-eyed expression; it was all there in the open for him to see.

He was close, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from him. He smelt like the mix of cigarettes, alcohol and his masculine cologne. Your skin prickled with every breath, his presence was overwhelming— your noses almost touching, your heavy breaths hitting each other's face, you could see every freckle planted under his eyes and nose.

"W-What department—" Your throat was tight with nervousness, your voice coming out in a tone that was barely a whisper.

He chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. "This."

His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the shape of your bottom lip as he lowered himself down to meet you. His lips were surprisingly soft, but his kiss was anything but. It was impatient, rough, almost bruising. Like he just cared about taking what he wanted from your mouth, his tongue slipping against yours as he deepened the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your head.

And fuck. He was good at this.

You realized you froze for a while, your hands fisting the sheets before one of them ended up against his chest, his heartbeat thrumming beneath your palm. Ben grinned against your lips, and you had the distinct urge to wipe that grin off his face— so you bit his bottom lip, just hard enough to surprise him.

He groaned, and that sound alone sent something molten curling in your stomach. He pulled back from the kiss, only to drag his lips down over your jaw and down the side of your neck— knitting your skin with reddish marks after his bites and kisses (mostly bites, of course).

You let out moan after moan, your hand coming up to grip his shoulder without even realizing it. "S—Slow down…"

Ben ignored you, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your neck as his hand slides down your side, slipping beneath the hem of your shorts, palm running over the smooth skin of your thigh.

"No."

He breathed the word straight against your skin, like a promise, before he was suddenly lifting you up; holding you effortlessly in his lap. His back against the headboard, the golden glimmers from the candles on the nightstand flickering over his handsome features. One calloused hand slid up your thigh, groping your pussy roughly through your shorts. You whimpered weakly, struggling to even keep your eyes open. "B—Ben…"

"Look at you, witchy. Fuckin' stupid 'n needy for me already. And we're just gettin' started." Ben growled, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His other hand fisted in your hair, tilting your head back before he crushed your lips together again, his beard brushing against your lips and cheeks, making you even more aroused.

You could feel his hardness pressing against you through his sweatpants, making you squirm on his lap. Ben's hands made quick work of your blouse, practically tearing it off your body in his eagerness to expose all of you to him. The fabric ripped in half easily thanks to his super-strength, the sound of the damaged garment joining your heated pants and moans. The tragic fate of your ruined blouse was followed by your shorts, in seconds.

In a matter of moments, you were left in nothing but your bra and panties, your breasts heaving with each ragged breath. Ben drank in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with lust. He reached around to unclasp your bra, freeing your tits. They jiggled slightly as they were released, nipples already hard and aching for his touch, and his touch only. You shivered and covered your tits, you needed to tell him. Just before he looked like was going to complain and demand you not to cover yourself, you blurted out.

"I've never done this before. Like, fully."

Ben stilled, his fingers caressing your sides stopped. For a beat, the room was just quiet. His green eyes flicked up to yours, unreadable, but softer. "Huh."

Your stomach clenched. You weren't sure what you expected— maybe for him to laugh, to tease you for it, or the bastard to say something smug about how lucky you were to have him be your first. Because that was what Soldier Boy was like, at least according to your judgement in your mind, shaped by his first and later impressions. But he didn't do any of that. He just… looked at you, lips slightly parted like he was turning something over in his head.

"Never?" His voice was low, rough around the edges. Curious.

You swallowed. "No."

Ben exhaled, long and slow through his nose, and something in his expression shifted. Yes, his usual cocky amusement was still there, but now there was something else beneath it— something darker, more intense. He wet his lips, dragging his tongue over the corner of his mouth as he placed his hands over your hands that were covering your breasts. "So what you're tellin' me," he started, voice gruff. Gently yet firmly pulling your hands away from your chest where you had been covering. "is that no one's ever gotten their hands on you like this?"

Your breath hitched, gripping your thighs as you fought the urge to cover your breasts again. "No."

His smirk came back— slow and wicked. "Christ, sweetheart." His fingers brushed over your nipples, a firm, possessive little press into your skin. "Now that's just fuckin' tragic."

You would roll your eyes if his touch didn't distract you, you whimpered. "Tragic?"

"Oh, yeah." He tsked, shaking his head like the very idea of it offended him. "All that time wasted? You coulda been ruined by now." His one hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin, featherlight and teasing. "Coulda had someone break you in nice and good. And instead?" His lips quirked, teeth flashing. "You're givin' it to me?"

Your face was on fire, you held onto his arm when he kneaded your tit. "I swear to God, Ben—"

He chuckled, dark and pleased, leaning in just enough that his breath ghosted against your jaw. "Lucky me, huh?"

You huffed. "I didn’t give you anything yet."

That only made his smirk widen. "Oh, baby. You will."

Your stomach flipped. His voice had dropped an octave, deep with filthy promise. He threw you on the bed again, your back against the burgundy sheets, watching him as he started to take his clothes off.

"First time oughta be good," He dragged the shirt up, slow enough to make you ache with anticipation. Inch by inch, his stomach was revealed— tight, scarred muscles, the deep grooves of his abs catching the dim light. The movement was deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you, taking his sweet fucking time. Torturing you. "Real good. I don't half-ass shit, sweetheart, and I sure as hell ain't gonna half-ass this."

He finally pulled the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, ruffling his hair slightly before tossing it aside. "Better?" he drawled, voice rough, cocky.

You gulped.

Better? Jesus Christ.

Your mouth had gone dry. His chest was broad, thick with muscle, dusted with just the right amount of hair. Old scars littered his skin— some small, some deep, a map of violence and survival. Ben noticed your staring. Of course he did. You were basically drooling.

He smirked. "Y'know, sweetheart… if you wanna touch, all you gotta do is ask."

You snapped out of it, rolling your eyes to cover the way your pulse spiked. "Shut up."

Ben only chuckled, clearly pleased with himself.

Then, without missing a beat, his hands dropped to the waistband of his sweatpants.

Your breath caught.

He hooked his thumbs into the band, dragging them down agonizingly slow, the fabric slipping lower, revealing sharp hipbones, the deep cut of his v-line, more and more bare skin until—

The part of your body you covered was your eyes this time. "Jesus Christ, Ben!"

Ben burst into actual laughter, deep and warm and entirely too pleased with himself. "Aw, baby. You're real cute when you're flustered, y'know that?"

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut, willing yourself to breath. You heard him tossing something away, most likely his sweatpants (together with his boxers if you were lucky, or unlucky…? You weren't sure how to think because of how flustered you were).

You felt him coming close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmured, "Open your eyes, sweetheart."

Your stomach flipped.

"…You're naked, aren't you?"

A low, amused hum. "Mmm. Maybe."

Your breath hitched as he touched your rear. "Ben—"

He cut in, his voice lower, demanding. "Open them."

You hesitantly fluttered open your eyes. And— oh, God.

Oh, fuck.

Your eyes snapped up to his face, refusing to look lower, but Ben— oh, he was stroking it. His grin stretched slow, wicked amusement dancing in his green eyes.

"Atta girl." he praised, voice a rough, pleased rumble.

You absolutely should not be preening at that.

You absolutely were.

You forced your eyes to stay on his face, gripping desperately onto your last shreds of self-control. "You are so—" Your eyes accidentally looked down, and you gasped.

His long cock jutted out proudly from a nest of blond curls, the thick shaft pulsing in his hand as he pumped it slowly, putting on a show for you. The bulbous head was an angry red, glistening with precum that leaked from the tip. His heavy balls hung low, filled with his seed, ready to spill inside you.

Dear gods above and below, is that thing gonna fit?

Your chest heaved with each nervous breath as he got closer to you, slowly, until he was on his knees between your legs. He gently but firmly grasped the hem of your panties, his calloused fingers slowly dragging the delicate fabric down your soft, trembling thighs. He drank in the sight of your now bare pussy, his green eyes darkening with lust as he took in your glistening folds, untouched and pristine. Unable to resist, he leaned in, hot breath ghosting over your skin.

"Mmm, you smell divine… Now, be a good girl and let me taste you." Ben murmured, before diving in and running his tongue along your sensitive slit, tasting your virgin essence. You threw your head back and cursed lowly, gripping the sheets. He groaned at the addicting flavor, delving deeper to lap at your sensitive flesh. His beard lightly grazed yor inner thighs as he explored you with his mouth, the slight scratchiness a contrast to the softness of his tongue.

You could do nothing but to gasp and squirm beneath him, your hips bucking slightly as unfamiliar yet incredible sensations washed over you like violent waves. Ben gripped your thighs firmly, holding you steady as he continued his delicious assault, his tongue circling and flicking over your hardening clit. He sucked the sensitive nub gently before releasing it with a pop, his chin glistening with your arousal. He brought his hand up, delivering a sharp smack to your pussy. The lewd sound of skin hitting skin filled the room, followed by your startled yelp. Despite the initial shock, the stinging pain quickly morphed into pleasure, your untouched walls clenching around nothing, needy.

Did he— Did he just—?

He did. He definitely did.

Why did that feel so good?? That's not supposed to feel that good, right??

Oh god, he's smirking. He knows.

Okay, Y/N, don't give him the satisfaction. Play it cool—

"???!??!!"

Okay. Not words. That was not a sentence. That was a dying computer noise.

Oh NO, he's laughing.

This is humiliating. And yet, somehow, the best thing to ever happen to me.

Ben repeated the action, slapping your pussy rhythmically as he ate you out, the mix of sensations driving you wild with desire.

One slap.

Two, long tongue-fuckings.

Three slaps.

Sucking you out for god-knows-how-long seconds.

"Oh god, Ben!" you cried out, your fingers tangling in his blond hair as he devoured you like his last meal. Your cheeks were warming up, eyes glazed over with lust as you writhed beneath him, rapidly approaching your first ever orgasm with the touch of a man at his skilled ministrations. He doubled his efforts, tongue plunging deep inside your tight channel as he slapped your dripping cunt, bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"C'mon, witchy. Say my fuckin' name. Wanna hear you scream it." He demanded without pulling his lips away, low and urgent.

You could only comply, your voice reaching a fever pitch as the intense sensations consumed you. "BEN! Oh— Fuck! I'm gonna… I'm gonna…" you screamed, needy pussy clenching vice-tight around his plundering tongue as your orgasm crashed over you. Your hips bucked wildly as wave after wave of pure bliss radiated through your body, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. Ben continued to lap at your quivering folds, helping to ride out your very first climax, his green eyes gleaming with pride and satisfaction at turning you into a writhing, screaming mess.

Cocky bastard. But it's his right to be cocky after that performance, so I'm not gonna complain.

Ben's mouth glistened, lips curled into a smug smirk as he pulled back, watching you with dark, heated eyes. "Fuck, sweetheart. Look at you—" he rasped. You could barely hold yourself up, your breath coming out in short, desperate little pants.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, slow and deliberate, like he wanted you to watch. Wanted you to see just how much he enjoyed wrecking you with his tongue. And judging by the way he was looking at you —hungry, predatory, downright feral— he was far from satisfied.

"You taste so fuckin' sweet, baby." he murmured, dragging his hands up your thighs, spreading them wider as he moved up your body, settling between them. His throbbing cock dragged against your slick folds, making you shudder.

Ben chuckled low, feeling the way you tensed beneath him. "What's the matter, witchy?" he teased, voice deep, rough with amusement. "Thought you wanted this."

His fingers trailed along your jaw, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. His lips were barely an inch from yours, teasing, tempting. "Look at you. Already fucked out— and I ain't even inside you yet."

You swallowed, heat pooling low in your stomach as he rocked against you— just enough to tease, to drive you insane. His cock pressed right against your enterance, but he didn't push in. Not yet. He was making you wait— making you beg.

"Tell me how bad you want it, baby." His voice was low, gruff, his breath hot against your lips. "Tell me you need me."

When you hesitated, too stubborn to give in so easily, he tch'd under his breath, shaking his head. His hand slid down your body, fingers ghosting over your stomach, lower— until his calloused fingertips brushed against your soaked cunt. You gasped, hips jerking at the barely-there touch.

Ben's smirk deepened. "Drippin' all over me, sweetheart. Fuckin' soaked." He pressed a teasing kiss to your jaw, then lower, his beard scraping deliciously against your skin. "C'mon. Say it."

"P—Please, Ben… I need you… I need you so much…"

He chuckled, low and satisfied, giving you a sharp, teasing thrust that nearly had you seeing stars. "That's my girl."

You threw your head back, a silent scream of pained pleasure ripping from your lungs as you were finally getting filled by Ben. Your velvety walls stretched deliciously around his thick cock, fluttering and clenching as they struggled to accommodate his size. Tears of overwhelming emotion and sensation pricked at the corners of your eyes, your body trembling beneath his.

Oh. Ohhh. So that's what all the hype is about.

He was heavy, and he was everywhere. You couldn't escape it, the sensations coming off his body was making your skin feel like it was on fire.

"You're so goddamn tight— like you were made to take me. Fuckin' perfect." Ben grunted, his hips stilling as he allowed you a moment to adjust. He peppered your face with tender kisses, brushing away your tears with the pads of his thumbs. "Feel that? That's me ruinin' you. You'll still feel me tomorrow, bet on it." His voice was a low, intense murmur. Ben began to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside before slamming back in, setting a deep, claiming rhythm.

The bed creaked beneath you with each powerful thrust, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. There was a heavy mix of smell in the room, sex and jasmine— from the burning candles. The hot flames reflecting the passion and need between you two. You could only cling to him, your nails raking down his muscular back as he took you hard and deep, each drive of his hips sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.

"Yes, Ben! Oh god, yes!" You cried out, your voice echoing off the bedroom walls as you surrendered completely to the intense sensationa. You wrapped your shaking legs around his waist, locking your ankles as he pounded into you mercilessly. The new feelings were overwhelming, your virgin body struggling to process the depth of feeling as it was claimed so thoroughly by Soldier Boy. Each thrust pushed you closer to the edge, your second climax building rapidly as Ben fucked you with wild abandon.

You were in a state of haze, you didn't know when it happened, really. One second, you he was pounding into you as he was; one second his long fingers were wrapped around your throat.

Oh?

Your eyes widened, a thrill of fear and excitement shooting through you as you realized his intent.

Oh. Oh, I like this.

No— wait. Too much power in his hands. Literally. This man could snap my neck like a glow stick and wouldn't even break a sweat.

…And yet, why is that hot?

"Ben, I- ahh!" Your words cut off with a choked gasp as his fingers tightened.

"That's it, fuckin' take it. Thought you had a sharp mouth— where's all that backtalk now, huh?" Ben's eyes flashed with lust as he watched your face, taking in the pretty flush spreading across your cheeks, the way your plump lips parted in silent screams of ecstasy.

Okay, okay, I should say something sexy back. Maybe something— oh god, I just made a noise I didn't know I could make. Nevermind.

Your virgin walls were fluttering and clenching around his driving cock, your body's instinctive reaction to the lack of oxygen only heightening your pleasure. Ben growled, a feral sound of pure satisfaction, as he fucked you wild, pounding into you. The bed frame slammed against the wall with each powerful thrust, the lewd sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezin' my cock, sweetheart," he rasped, his voice was strained with the effort of holding back his rapidly approaching orgasm. "Gonna… ungh… gonna fill this tight little cunt… Come with me, Y/N. Now." His grip on your throat tightened fractionally as he slammed into you one, two, three more times before burying himself to the hilt with a guttural roar.

Your eyes rolled back, your tongue lolling out as the intense sensations crashed over you. The pressure around your neck, combined with the relentless pounding of your pussy pushed you past the point of no return. "BEN!" you screamed, your voice raw and ragged as your orgasm crashed through you. Your cunt clamped down on his throbbing cock like a vice, the slick walls rippling and milking his shaft as he erupted deep inside you.

Ben threw himself on you, hips jerking erratically as he filled you completely. His grip on your throat loosened as he rode out the aftershocks, his hips giving shallow little thrusts as the last spurts of his hot seed filled you up. You gasped and shuddered under him, your lungs burning as they cried out for air. The feeling of Ben's weight pressing down on you, pinning you in place as he emptied himself inside you, was the most incredible thing you had ever experienced.

You could get used to this— not that you'd ever admit it to his face.

It was… nice.

Annoyingly so.

You felt light as a feather, like you were drunk of him. The room was steeped in a golden hush, the flickering glow of candles casting soft shadows against the burgundy velvet sheets tangled around your legs. The air was warm, thick with the scent of sex and the faint, making you high as hell.

Then reality settled back in.

"…You're crushing me."

Ben huffed against your shoulder, amused and tired. "You're fine."

You were not fine. You were pinned beneath two hundred and fifty pounds of super-powered weight, and your legs still tingled with the aftershocks of what he'd done to you. You shifted slightly— big mistake. A sharp pulse of soreness was felt between your thighs, raw and aching, it made your breath hitch.

Ben noticed, his smirk softening. He laid on his back, pulling you over him. Slowly, his hand slid lower, tracing a lazy path down your body, fingertips brushing the curve of your hip, ghosting over the dip of your waist—

You tensed. "Ben—"

"Relax," he muttered, voice low, rough, but… weirdly gentle. His fingers pressed into your muscles, kneading with slow, practiced strokes, searching for every knot of tension and working them loose. Your throat tightened.

He wasn't supposed to do this. Wasn't supposed to be like this— warm, careful. The Soldier Boy everyone feared was crass, reckless, cruel. The jaw-dropping and chilling stories about Soldier Boy that Butcher told you were still lingering in the back of your mind. That man was not… Ben. Not the man drawing circles into your skin like he actually gave a damn.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the ceiling, on the rhythmic glide of his touch, on the way the warmth of his palm seeped into your skin.

Then, suddenly he pulled away.

You blinked, startled, as he stretched an arm towards the nightstand, fingers closing around the pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his sweatpants.

Oh. So much for affection.

You frowned, tugging the blanket up to your chin as if that might hide your disappointment, trying not to pout. "Oh, hell no. You are not lighting that in bed."

Ben shot you a lazy smirk, already slipping a cigarette between his lips. "Oh yeah?"

You scowled, shoving weakly at his shoulder. "No smoking in my room, asshole."

In response to that, he flicked the burning cigarette to the bed.

You gasped. "Ben!"

He laughed, completely unapologetic as you scrambled over the mattress, cursing under your breath while patting out the ember before it could set your sheets on fire. By the time you whirled back to glare at him, he was already sprawled out on his back, arms folded behind his head, looking disgustingly pleased with himself. Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked him with it.

Ben barely flinched, just snorted and hooked an arm around your waist, tugging you back into the blankets. The fight drained out of you as you landed against his chest, your cheek pressing against the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His hand found its way back to your waist, stroking idly, tracing mindless patterns against your skin.

Your heart thudded painfully.

If I make it out of this weekend alive, I am never making fun of romance novels again.

Not because there is anything romantic between us… —with ben? pffh. not in a million years, ever— Just, sex-wise…

"…We need to clean up." you muttered, voice muffled as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck.

Ben only hummed in response, his arms holding you tighter, pulling you even closer. And after a few minutes, the impossible finally happened— he slept. A slow, smug smile curled at your lips as you nestled closer. His arm was heavy and possessive, draped over your waist, keeping you anchored against him. Cured from his insomnia.

Not thanks to a spell, but thanks to… pussy, you supposed.

💘𝄢 requested tags : @kr804573 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @bakugotypecrashout @petrichorsrainsblog

[soldiersgirl]

no shame here

[figisonline]

i think i just died and went to heaven tbh

Smell so Sweet🍑

Summary: Soldier Boy’s powers make it easy for him to read people’s physical reactions. He happens to pick up on the fact that every time she’s around Butcher and himself, she gets REALLY horny.

Warnings: PORN WITH NO PLOT🥵🔞, cursing, dirty talk, degrading, daddy kink, subspace, drug use, multiple orgasms, anal, creampies (what kind? Yes)

Notes: reader is called Peach because I’m uncreative like that🤷‍♀️ Thanks for voting for this on my poll!

//

Learning to control his supe powers and senses had taken Soldier Boy years. They were long, grueling, painful few years, but the payoff was a harmony he hadn’t known until his powers worked with him instead of against. If he concentrated hard enough, he could pin point everyone down to their sound and scent.

The cum guzzler, Hughie, had a heart beat like a rabbit most of the time and smelled of some kind of obnoxious sprayed on odor mixed with something that reminded him of a bologna sandwich. Weak.

Butcher’s heart rate was all over the place, slow one minute and erratic and panicked the next. Past the cigarette and alcohol smell, the Brit had a strong manly scent that he could only compare to himself. It had a different musk than his own, but it gave off the same feeling. Strong.

Then there was her.

She drove him crazy. He chased after the smell of her sweet perfume mixed with her naturally sweet smelling skin. She smelled like goddamn peaches and cream. So sweet.

He could pick up on hormone changes in women the easiest for some odd reason, and hers were his favorite to fill his senses with. So, it was easy to discover her little secret.

//

The first time Soldier Boy picked up on it was the day he met her. She stood to Butcher’s right, and he could already smell her attraction to the cockney asshole. It wasn’t as strong as he thought it be, probably because she had learned to control it around him, but it suddenly got stronger when her eyes landed on him. Sharp eyes saw her pupils dilate and her rapid heart beat pounded in his ears.

“And uh…who’s the broad?” Soldier Boy smirked at her.

“She’s a valuable memba’ of the team, mate,” Butcher placed a hand on the small of her back, her hormones went wild at the contact, “She’ll be lookin’ after ya while Hughie and I track down the last few membas of Payback for ya.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, okay?” he snapped his eyes to Butcher, “I think I know how to fuckin’ lay low.”

“Well, guv, she knows her way ‘round ‘ere and can get ya whateva’ ya need,” Butcher pointed out, “She’ll help ya out, keep ya company while the lad and I chase some of these leads.”

Solider Boy turned his smirk back to her, “You alright with this, sweetheart? I can be quite a handful.”

He sensed her answer before she told him, “Yeah, I’m fine with this. Rather hang out here than watch Hughie’s teleporting junk.”

//

“Ya know she wants to fuck you, right?” Soldier Boy casually mentioned to Butcher one night.

Butcher chuckled, “Yeah. I seen those fuck me eyes she tries ‘idin’.”

“Bet with that shit you’re shootin’ up, you can smell what I smell,” Soldier Boy quirked his eyebrows up with a devious smirk.

“Fuuuuck she smells sweet, don’ she?” Butcher groaned, “You eva’ ‘eard ‘er late at night’? Ugh. W’at I wouldn’ give ta see those wet dreams.”

The two for them sat outside smoking on the motel on the balcony. Soldier Boy inhaled sharply before passing it, “You ever smell her when we’re both in the room?”

The Brit began to chuckle as he took the burning joint, “Picked up on that righ’ quick.”

A groan left the other man, “Smells like the ripest fuckin’ peach you’ll ever fuckin’ taste.”

The two sat in silence, the same idea passing through their minds.

//

She was curled up on the motel couch when Butcher returned without Hughie. Even through the line of bennies he’d just snorted, Ben’s nose filled with the smell of peaches as her two favorite people were in the same room. Butcher glanced over at the supe, inhaling deeply before disguising it as a sigh.

“Hey Peach,” he called.

She perked up at the nickname and looked over at him. It was a mystery to her why she’d been bestowed the name, but she didn’t really look too much into it.

“Hand me that bottle o’ whiskey. I’m out over here,” Ben commanded.

She rolled her eyes before sarcastically saying, “Oh yes sir! Need anything else?”

Both men felt her reply go straight to their dicks. From the motel table, they watched her grab the full bottle from the coffee table and walk towards them. If she paid a lick of attention, she’d have noticed the way they eyed her head to toe. “Sit with us, love. I could use the comp’ny,” Butcher offered as he kicked one of the chairs out. She sat down, watching as Ben crushed more pills with the hilt of his Bowie knife.

“Soldier Boy ‘ere givin’ ya any trouble?” Butcher asked sternly.

“When he’s not bossing me around, he’s not too bad,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, “I’d have a bigger problem if he wasn’t sharing his weed.”

Ben chuckled as he used his blade to make little lines, “Thought pretty girls like you liked bein’ told what to do?”

They noticed her cheeks flush a bit and smelled her hormones skyrocket. Butcher started bouncing his leg impatiently the deeper her scent filled his mind like a fog.

“Experience says they sho’ do,” Butcher chuckled.

She picked up a joint and lighter off the table, “Only by the ones I call daddy.”

Butcher practically barked when he laughed, “Well, well, well. Dirty lil’ bird you are.”

She lit the joint and took a deep drag, both men watching her chest rise and fall. Ben waited until she exhaled the smoke from her pretty lips before speaking again, “Dirty girls and clean lines, that’s my motto. If you think I can snort, you should see me eat.”

He smirked at the blush that seemed to be there permanently whenever they were around.

“Ain’t that just the cutest lil’ blush ya ever did see,” Butcher teased with a smirk playing at his lips.

It was then that Ben decided to reveal the elephant in the room, “Ya know we can smell how turned on we make you, right?”

Both were amused as she choked while exhaling.

“C’mon, Peach. You really think I wouldn’t pick up on it? I’m fuckin’ Solider Boy,” Ben chuckled as he set his knife on the table, “And, Butcher’s been shootin’ up enough of that green shit to know what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Let me tell ya, Peach,” the way the word rolled off his tongue with his thick accent should have been wrong, “That’s exactly w’at ya smell like. Peaches and fuckin’ cream with a lil’ bit of sugar sprinkled ova’ the top. Me mouth starts waterin’ an’ me bollocks achin’ every time I step through that door and smell w’at’s permeating from between them luscious thighs.”

She subconsciously crossed her legs, feeling their eyes dart to the action.

“I bet she tastes just as sweet,” Ben leaned back in his chair, “What ya wanna bet, Butcher?”

The man was leisurely stretched out in his chair as his dark stare never left her body, “No doubt, guv. Ya don’ smell like that and not taste just as sweet. But…betta’ to find out. Care if I ‘ave the first go?”

“Be my guest,” Ben quickly replied.

The fact that they were talking about her in front of her as if she wasn’t there was a huge turn on. Like she was too dumb to join their conversation about tasting her cunt. Butcher suddenly slid off his chair to his knees, crawling towards her to kneel before her crossed legs. His rough hands started at her ankles before delicately traveling up her calf, over her knees, hooking his hands in the crease of her thighs and yanking them open. A gasp fell from her lips as her legs were spread and Butcher made his bulky self at home, large hands clasping around her hips with a lazy smirk on his face.

“Gooood-damnit! That’s potent shit,” Ben growled, throwing his head back.

“Lift ya hips, love. Daddy’s dyin’ of thirst. Ain’t that a cryin’ shame?” he asked her as he dug his fingers into the waist band of her shorts.

She held herself up, biting her lip and nodding as her face burned.

Butcher couldn’t help his chuckle when he shimmied her shorts and panties off, “An’ the only thing that can quench this mighty thirst of mine is drippin’ out of yer pretty cunt.”

Breathing suddenly became hard when his cocky smile lowered between her legs. One hand gripped the edge of the wooden chair while the other gripped his black hair. The position was awkward until her legs were thrown over his broad shoulders, and he yanked her closer to the edge of the chair. There was no warning as Butcher dove in. A strangled moan left her throat as his whole mouth devoured her from clit to slit, chasing every drop of her sweet honey to places that hadn’t been explored.

She cried out loud when he suddenly let loose a deep growl that vibrated against her folds, strong arms wrapping tighter around her thighs to shove his face deeper. He could fucking drown like this. They sounded like two animals. She whimpered and whined in a high pitch, pornographic manner. Butcher grunted and groaned like a rutting beast. Ben sat back with a joint in his mouth and hand on his dick. Her scent filled the room now.

Ben admired the way her little toes curled when Butcher made her cum, “Butcher’s a greedy son of a bitch, but, what else is new?”

Both her hands were dug deep into his hair now as her hips attempted to roll towards his mouth. Ben suddenly stood up, exhaling smoke as he strode towards the two. He stood next to her, his hips level with her head, holding out the joint towards her ‘o’ shaped mouth.

“Wrap your lips around it. Think you deserve a lil’ puff after that last one,” the supe encouraged.

Her eyes popped open and stared into mischievous green ones before flicking down to his hand. With a shaky breath, she wrapped her lips around it and inhaled.

“There ya go, doll. Nice long drag. Don’t make her choke yet, Butcher,” Ben complimented.

The supe pulled the joint from her lips with a satisfied smirk as he watched her hold the smoke in her lungs before exhaling. The exhale turned into a broken whine as Butcher built her up to another orgasm.

“You wanna a go, mate?” Butcher reluctantly pulled away as she cried in protest.

“Fuck yeah, I do. Move over,” Ben shoved the other man’s shoulder.

The Brit backed away and stood up as Ben made room for himself. Just like the previous man between her legs, no time was wasted. No one could ever accuse these two men of being inefficient. Butcher took a seat at the table again as Ben had his fill. The second his tongue met her folds, he growled and shook his head.

“Why not give ‘er lil’ arsehole a tickle? I know I did,” Butcher smirk could only be described as cheeky, “Tell Soldier Boy how much you liked havin’ yer arsehole tongue fucked.”

A desperate cry left her lips, “I-I loved it!”

“Try again,” Ben slapped her pussy making her squeal.

“Butcher’s tongue in my ass felt so, so good!” she cried, “I was about to cum again when he took it out.”

Ben cooed, “See, Butcher, if you would just keep your damn mouth shut and do the job, you’d have a higher success rate.”

“Oi, cut the supe shite. I was nice enough to offa’ up a taste before she started pushin’ me head away. That lil’ cunt was flutterin’ away when me tongue was shoved up ‘er arse, made the job much easier for ya,” Butcher barked back.

“Oh my god! Please! Someone put me out of my fuckin’ misery!” her desperate whine interrupted.

Ben slapped her pussy harder, “Sassy lil’ thing.”

“Ya got no idea, mate,” Butcher took a hit.

Ben brought his mouth down to suck harshly at her clit. Two of his thick fingers shoved inside of her making her scream. Butcher admired her toes curling in the air and her fingers desperately grasping Ben’s brown hair.

“O-oh, Ben!” she whimpered as his finger teased against her other hole.

Ben growled as he roughly held her still, dipping his fingers into her cunt then dragging the wetness down to play with that forbidden little entrance. It was when he shoved his tongue inside her weeping cunt and nudged the tip of his finger into her ass that she let out a strangled moan, cunt clenching and gushing.

Butcher inhaled deeply with a growl, “Fuckin’ ‘ell! Toss ‘er on the bed.”

The supe sat up, wiping his mouth and beard before jerking her up like she weighed nothing. Both men strode towards the bed before she was thrown half hazardously onto it. Ben was quick to yank her shirt off as Butcher started unbuttoning his own. Her eyes looked up at them like a powerless doe at the mercy of the wolves. Her body already hummed from her first two orgasms, but she craved more. She rubbed her thighs together as her cunt throbbed uncontrollably.

Ben grabbed one of her ankles to throw her legs open, “That’s the last time I wanna see those legs closed.”

She felt a gush of arousal at his command, “Y-yes sir.”

“Gonna need ya to stay niiiice an’ spread out for us, Peach,” Butcher had the audacity to wink as he jerked her other leg open, “Might ‘ave a ‘ard time gettin’ her to keep’em closed after this.”

Her blush would have been from embarrassment if they hadn’t already dove head first into her cunt and asshole. There were still sparks of insecurity that crossed her features as she lay with her legs spread wide open, but they’d fuck that right out of her. Butcher was the first to move, rounding the bed to sit behind her. With a grunt, he maneuvered her around to be on all fours.

“Give daddy a lil’ nosh while Soldier Boy opens up your pretty holes, yeah?” Butcher grinned as he gathered her hair in his hand.

She watched with wide eyes as Butcher made her watch him jerk his belt and fly open with a free hand. The bed dipped behind her as Ben roughly spread apart her ass. Her mouth watered at the size of Butcher’s thick length, straining against his hold to reach down and pleasure him. Butcher’s dark chuckle didn’t distract her from staring. When he brought her head down to wrap her lips around his tip, Ben shoved his fingers inside her cunt while circling over her asshole.

The back of Butcher’s head slammed against the headboard as the woman enthusiastically sucked him off, “Bloody…fuckin’ ‘ell! Like a goddamn hoova’.”

“I love a bitch that gets off on suckin’ dick,” Ben groaned.

The way the men laughed at her eagerness should have made her feel ashamed, or even mad, but it just turned her on even more. It made her push her hips back into Ben’s hands and her tongue stroke Butcher’s length with the need to keep them talking. Keep degrading her and using her until her body gave out. She whimpered when she heard and felt Ben roughly spit on her asshole before he inched a finger inside to the knuckle. The burn was foreign while pleasurable. Her body didn’t know whether to lean in or away from it.

Ben’s eyes were dark with lust as he enjoyed the sweet torture they were putting her through. It motivated him to be a little crueler in how he handled her. When her hips tried to pull away from him burying his finger more inside her, his other hand roughly left her cunt to hold her hip and keep her in place, “Nah, doll. No runnin’. Take it like a good lil’ trooper.”

If Butcher wasn’t getting his soul sucked out, he would have rolled his eyes at the supe. He looked down at her sucking his dick like it was the best tasting thing she’d had in her life. He loved desperate whores. He hadn’t realized how desperate she was until that Temp V shit got his senses heightened enough to hear a mouse queef. His eyes went wide when she suddenly pulled off of him and let her tongue lazily lick over his balls while her hand stroked his dick.

“A-ah shit,” Butcher shivered as she wrapped her lips around it, “You diabolical slut! Noshin’ on me fuckin’ bollocks!”

“Damn, she’s tight. I’ll stretch that out no problem,” Ben’s smirk was dark.

“Not before I do,” Butcher groaned as the sound of her sucking and slurping on him filled the room.

She suddenly pulled off of Butcher and glanced up at him, a shy but mischievous look in her eyes, “I want you both inside me. Please.”

Butcher suddenly leaned forward, holding her head closer to his face, “Louder, peach. Don’ fink Soldier Boy ‘ere ‘eard ya.”

She whined, but repeated, “I want you both inside me! Please!”

Both men chuckled, Ben spanking her made her cry out and jerk forward closer to Butcher’s face. A shaky gasp passed her lips when Ben pulled his finger from inside her, “Ya want us to just shove our dicks in there? Stretch you out ‘till you’re a cryin’ and snivelin’ slut?”

A whine left her throat, “Y-Yes! Ruin me!”

“Oof, ya hear that, mate? Don’ you worry, peach. You are neva’ gonna forget w’at we’re gonna do to ya,” Butcher’s breath smelled of weed as he chuckled in her face.

She squealed when Ben smacked her wet pussy before stepping away. Butcher pet her hair affectionately before ordering her to straddle him. She was so turned on she was trembling as she waited for him to kick his boots and jeans off. When he was finally naked like her, she crawled into the man’s lap, knees settling on either side of his hips. A moan slipped past her swollen lips when his callused hands pawed at the meat of her ass. Butcher looked down to watch her hips slide along his length, teasing them both. “Please! Please, daddy!” she babbled.

“That beggin’ is so pretty. Keep doin’ it,” Butcher slurred.

“Please, daddy! It hurts!”

Ben chuckled, “Where’s it hurt, baby? Gotta tell him, or he can’t fix it.”

Butcher held her hips still making her cry out. Her nails dug into his shoulders, “I-I need y-you inside! Aches inside, daddy.”

The Brit chuckled with a smirk as he urged her to hover over him, grasping his cock in hand to notch the tip to her entrance. His smirk turned to a smile as she struggled to sink down. “Aww, poor peach. Daddy too big for ya?” he teased.

She whimpered and squirmed to take more, “Need more. F-Fuck I….please!”

Ben’s strong hand on her shoulder pushed her down. Neither man could look away until she was fully sat in Butcher’s lap. He was careful not to grip her too hard, but holy shit was she tight! Butcher growled feeling her walls pulse around him. If he were a younger man with less self control, he would have busted right then. Her arms frantically wrapped around Butcher’s neck as she cried and whimpered. He nuzzled his beard and lips against her chest, sucking marks into the delicate skin of her breasts.

The air was knocked out of her when his hips thrust up into hers. Burly arms wrapped around her body before he started moving her body along his. “F-Fuckin’ ‘ell! That’s it!” Butcher groaned as he looked up at her. When he noticed a few tears wetting her cheeks, he gently kissed them away, “Too much for ya already, peach? Ol’ Soldier Boy hasn’t even ‘ad ‘is turn yet.” She frantically shook her head, and she heard Ben chuckle from the side of the bed. Suddenly, she was rolled onto her back with her legs wrapped around the man’s waist. Butcher sat up, grasping her hips in his large hands, before starting a brutal pace.

She moaned and gasped, clawing at his wrists and throwing her head back. Every thrust had her gushing around him, and he refused to relent until she was on the verge of falling apart. The coil kept tightening in her belly with every thrust against her sweet spot. A strangled cry came from her throat when his callused thumb strummed her clit causing it to snap. She gushed around Butcher’s cock, the man’s hips faltering to keep him from cumming with her. “Fu-uckin’ ‘ell, peach! Bring’a man to ‘is bloody fuckin’ knees, why don’ ya?” Butcher growled as he dug his blunt nails into the skin on her hips.

Ben suddenly huffed, “C’mon, I ain’t had a piece of ass this fine in decades.”

The other man rolled his eyes and panted as he slowly eased out of her quivering walls, “‘ow long ya gonna keep milkin’ that one, guv?”

She whined when Butcher was no longer inside her, but it didn’t take long for Ben to take his place. The supe pounced on her, throwing her shaking legs over his shoulders and sheathing his full length inside her. She screamed and grabbed onto the shitty headboard rails for dear life. He gave a dark chuckle as he started an unforgiving pace, “Hold on tight, baby. Let’s show Butch how a real supe fucks.”

Butcher rolled his eyes as he relit the forgotten joint. Cocky bastard. Honestly, they both were which explained why they butt heads. Ben fucked hard and powerful, slow at first but quickly picked up when he found the spot that made her gasp the loudest. Her body began to shake, the familiar sensation flooding her nerve endings. Her body instinctively tried to pull away from his harsh attack, but the bruising grip on her hips kept her in place. Ben laughed at her pathetic whining, “What I say about runnin’?”

“P-P-Please,” she whimpered pathetically, “Ca-Can’t!”

“Thought you wanted us to ruin you, honey?” the supe taunted as he snatched the joint from Butcher at the side of the bed, “You’re so, so close. Think I’ll make ya squirt more than Billy Boy?”

Butcher growled, “Shoulda kept ya in the bloomin’ freezer.”

“Can’t handle a lil’ competition, Butch?” Ben chuckled as he puffed and fucked.

It was the sudden gushing around his cock that brought his attention back to the fucked out woman. “Oh shit!” he groaned as he looked down to see her little cunt leaking and struggling to push him out. She lightly convulsed, euphoria having wracked her body like a shock of lightening. The sounds of the men both taunting and praising her were muffled. She’d never been fucked like this before. Used like a battle ground between two alphas trying to out do the other. The thought of both of them fighting at the same time made her heavy body squirm.

“Wonda’ w’at she’s finkin’ to get her to wigglin’?” Butcher slurred.

“Same thing I’m thinkin’ about,” Ben said as he swiftly slid out of her sensitive walls.

In her haze, she felt her body being moved, repositioned until she lay on her stomach over a strong, broad body. She lifted her head to look into Butcher’s dark eyes. His callused hands ran along her back, sides, and hips, enjoying the way her body was melted against his. The man quirked a brow when he noticed her staring intensely at his lips. How could he refuse the earnest and pleading look in her eyes? He thread his fingers through her hair and brought her lips to his. She moaned into his dominant kiss, thighs tightening around his waist and arms wrapping around his neck. A satisfied sound left her throat when Butcher effortlessly slipped into her abused cunt again. His hips started a lazy rhythm as their lips and tongues danced together.

The bed dipped at the bottom as a bottle popping open cut through the wet sounds. A small squeak stuck in her throat when the feeling of cool lube dripped against her asshole. Her previous four orgasms made it impossible for her to tense up beyond holding on to Butcher. “Nice n’ easy, peach. There’s a good girl,” Butcher mumbled into her lips as Ben angled her hips up more. A shiver rolled down her spine when she felt him slap his still hard cock against her asshole.

She cried out when he pushed just the tip inside, the pain of the stretch shocking. Ben held one ass cheek in hand while his other hand ran up her spine. “I’m just gonna slip right in, peaches,” Ben groaned as he inched forward, “Stay still. Let me in. Theeere we go.”

Full. That was how to describe how it felt. Full and overwhelming. She swore she could feel them in her throat. A strangled moan burst from her throat before turning into a cry. Her forehead pressed into Butcher’s neck as her body processed the new feeling. The man behind her leant over and sunk his teeth into her shoulder as his hips slowly drew back then pushed forward. Each stroke elicited a whine from her lips, but she didn’t tense, she didn’t wiggle away, her body and mind were too fucked out to allow her to try and escape. She wanted this. She needed this. She needed them to ruin her.

Butcher picked up on her comfort and began to work in tandem with the other man. When one thrust pushed in, the other pulled out, creating an insane back and forth rhythm. She could feel every vein and ridge rubbing against her walls. Her whimpers turned into mewls, body writhing like a cat in heat.

Butcher inhaled deeply with a satisfied moan, “All I’m gonna be cravin’ is a taste of peaches and cream when I’m around ya, love.”

“It’s my new favorite flavor,” Ben grunted before licking and biting his bottom lip, concentration etched into his brow.

She couldn’t hold back the pathetic sounds she made when their hips started thrusting faster and harder, clit being stimulated against Butcher’s pelvis. Her whole body was a live wire, mind melted and only able to comprehend the way they fucked her beyond her limit. A growl rumbled between the two men when she pushed her hips back against them. “She’s not even thinkin’! Look at that! Pushin’ her hips back to get those dicks deeper,” Ben slapped her ass.

“Keep makin’ ya self feel good, peach. That slutty cunt’s flutterin’ away. She barely wants to let me go,” Butcher taunted.

Tears spilled down her cheeks and nails dug into the tanned and scarred skin below her. She babbled and moaned, pleasing and praising them for all the pleasure and pain they were giving her. “Pathetic slut. Ya want it so bad? Then do it,” Ben growled.

She screamed when they roughly bottomed out over and over again until it all finally exploded. Her vision went white, air escaping her lungs, and shivers flowing through her body. She tensed so hard around them, it was nearly impossible to move. Breath rushed back into her lungs feeling Butcher and Ben cumming inside her. It was a mix of growls, grunts, and sobs as the intense high passed through all of them. “Christ ON A CROSS!” Ben bit out. Whatever British slang Butcher grumbled out was incoherent through his gravelly, sex-filled voice. She was hyper aware of their cum leaking out of her around their dicks, the feeling wouldn’t soon be forgotten. Nothing about what they did to her would leave her memory for as long as she lived.

“Good girl, good girl, peach,” Butcher panted as he pet her sweaty hair, “J-Just…Let’s just stay like this.”

She pressed a cheek to his pec and nodded.

Ben blinked and shook his head, “Whoo! Haven’t cum like that in 40 years! I need weed.”

The supe slowly pulled himself from her abused hole, smirking at her little whimpers. A cool feeling swept across her back as he got off the bed and shuffled over to the kitchen table. Her mind floated in and out of consciousness. She lost the battle to be present in reality when big arms wrapped around her and murmured little sweet nothings. The smell of marijuana smoke mixed with the smell of sex in the air. The last thing she remembers before slipping into darkness was listening to the two men start to bicker.

[karniquefreak]

[angelsberrymilk]

this is for @runawaydr3amerao3 & @giulmu

Dean gets his Sammy back.

(sam winchester x soldier boy)

2.2k words

tags: dean's pov, attempted suicide, religious imagery (mostly christian and muslim), Djinns (according to north african/arab pre and post Islamic lore), themes of depression, hallucination, body horror, horror, vomiting, angst with comfort (?), canon-typical dean violence, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, beta by me so there may be typos + eng is my 3rd language. (if i missed any tags pls let me know)

important note: this is mostly part one of reuniting sam and dean again, but sammy brings home a stray (soldier boy) and then next bits will be them interacting and soldier boy getting used to seeing Dean in the flesh. There's an ask asking for jealous ben so that will be in the next part soon hopefully <3 But I meant to write like a paragraph or two of dean looking for his baby brother and jump to the reunion but the fic ran away from me lol. sorry dean ;p

i will also archive some of the samboy stuff on ao3 to add to the tag (it has 10 works atm! 10! but fear not! berry is coming to the rescue! haha)

+ those who are unfamiliar with soldier boy pls go read his wikifan page, but only the boys tv one! Not the comics! Because I'm not familiar with THAT soldier boy. But all you need to know is that he's the dark version of cpt america :)

Dean somehow finds a way to get his brother back after flipping the supernatural world on its head.

He terrorises angels through Castiel, goes on a killing spree on witches when they claim they can't help him and really, he doesn't need to kill them, but he may as well while he's at it. Dean summons so many crossroads demons and slaughters them in fits of rage when he doesn't get what he wants that he gets somehow blacklisted in hell, if Dean Winchester rings, do not answer.

He doesn't bother with hunting when Sammy goes missing. Finding Sammy is his number one priority. He reads every book and file on multidimensional travelling he can find because Castiel circled the Milky Way twice and hasn't found a single trace of Sammy. Sammy's soul is also nowhere in sight, not hell, nor heaven, which means he is not dead. So he must be lost to time and space, and Dean will find him, against each and every odds.

Dean summons gods and goddesses, demanding that they bring him his brother back, or take him to his brother. He gets laughed at and he kills half of them, and the other half? They swear to curse his existence for his audacity and leave him wild in the eyes and foaming at the mouth. A punishment far worse than death. At least, in Dean Winchester's book.

Dean curses all gods and angels in one breath, curses Abraham's God and goes on another killing rampage just to feel something that isn't hopelessness and emptiness.

The closest Dean gets to finding a way was when he travelled all the way to Morocco, met up with a witch who pointed him towards a cave in the middle of the mountains, the path treacherous and dangerous, a path no man has crossed for hundreds of years. The natural elements were against Dean's journey, hot burning sun in the day and ice cold winds every night, he barely saw any animals and he sometimes could hear noises, as if people were talking nearby, but not matter how much he looked, he could never find them.

Dean finally made it to the mouth of the cave, and there was a boy with a herd of goats surrounding him, as if waiting for him to get there. The person was only a boy in name, with a small body, skinny, with patches of fur breaking out of his skin, his hair thin and wiry, falling over his eyes. Dean thought the unforgiving sun had finally gotten to him, scrambling his brain and last bits of sanity he had.

The longer Dean stood and looked at the boy, the more unsettled he felt regardless of everything he's seen and went through. The boy didn't move, sitting on a boulder dressed in a brown Djellaba, his chest didn't even move under the fabric he was wearing, and every time he glanced at his face and looked away for half a second, he found himself forgetting what the boy even looked like. Did he even have a face?

The silence was deafening and Dean felt out of place, he felt like he shouldn't be here, his instincts finally urging him to turn around while he still had the chance.

Dean isn't sure what possessed him to open his mouth, but he did, voice scratchy and rough, throat dry, "Where's my brother Sam?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the goats moved aside and Dean finally could see the boy's whole body, and the rotting hooves peeking out from the bottom of his Djellaba, his legs. Dean also realised with a racing heart that as soon as the goats moved to the side, they froze again, Dean has never seen goats stay so still, like statues, so still that even when a fly landed on one a goat's eye, not a single muscle moved, not a single blink could be seen. Dean wouldn't even be surprised if the wind blew and the goats collapsed like cardboard cutouts.

All of these things were clear warnings of what was awaiting him inside the cave. Not even Muslim believers dared to wander in here, why should they? Djinns were mysterious and dangerous creatures. Dean was the only man mad enough to go seek them out to get his brother back, and worst of all, he didn't even know if they even had him.

"I want Sammy, please," Dean pleaded.

He doesn't even know if this boy, creature, understood him, wasn't sure this creature spoke any human language for that matter. This is completely uncharted waters for him, this Djinn, this creature of Allah was something he's never crossed before. This is not like any of the Djinns he had come across before, they share the same name but are they really the same creature? Or is Djinn an umbrella term for creatures born out of a smokeless fire, whispering in the ears of man to commit sins and follow the desires of their stained hearts?

The boy slowly rises, his bones creaking and squeaking with each movement, like a rusty broken marionette, turning around and dragging himself into the dark mouth of the cave, the goats silently following him without even raising a cloud of sand and dust behind them.

When Dean stares at the back of the boy's head, at the patches of hair and the rotting flesh underneath it, he's frozen, petrified, his heart surges up his throat when the boy turns his head without moving his body, staring at him without saying a word, but how could he? When in mere seconds, he simultaneously has and doesn't have a mouth?

"You want Sammy? Well, come in," Dean thinks that's what the boy is saying with his silence.

Dean takes a deep breath and shakily takes a heavy step forward, Sammy's wet eyes in his head, his sad little mouth and baby chubby fingers, the smell of smoke and burning flesh, a phantom weight in his arms and a rope around his heart, pulling tight, tight until Dean is breathless and he's baptised into a sinner, wanting, yearning for his own flesh and blood, the greatest sin of them all; to desire his baby brother.

Dean is not looking for his baby brother.

Dean is looking to lose himself. Dean is looking to lose himself so completely and wholly to punish himself for losing his brother.

Dean wants to feel what Sammy is surely feeling, so that he'll be a little closer to him.

Dean wants to punish himself.

Dean wants to die.

"Dean? What are you doing?"

A flutter of wings and Dean feels the wind on his back as he gets closer to the mouth of the cave, his body getting heavier and heavier, whether it is bone deep exhaustion or his body finally shutting down, Dean couldn't tell.

Dean doesn't even look back because he knows that voice and he pushes his body harder, closer to the cave, following the Shepherd and his herd.

"Dean?" Castiel calls again, worried and horrified.

Dean is so close, so close to the cave, just one more step-

Strong arms wrap themselves around Dean and pull him back. Dean screams, his body easily lifted off the ground, the boy and the goats now laughing at him. And it's so loud, the boy is laughing but the boy has no mouth and the goats laugh but their mouths are sewed shut and Dean wants to die.

Dean is hysterical, inconsolable in the angel's arms, punching and kicking to be let go, his ears ringing and his skull pounding. They're laughing at him! They're laughing at him!

"Dean! Stop it! Dean!" Castiel pleads. He gets punched and kicked but he doesn't even react, his arms around Dean tight like a noose.

"What cave? DEAN?! WHAT CAVE?!" Castiel shouts over the storm raging in Dean's head and Dean finally can see clearer. He turns his head around and the cave is no more. Instead he's at the edge of a cliff.

Dean's body goes limp in Castiel's arms and his feet are finally back on the ground. The sun was brighter than ever in the sky, mocking him, and Dean doesn't understand. He lowers his eyes even more and sees how high he actually is, sees the tiny trees at the bottom of the hill and he doubles over, throwing up water, dates and bread with stomach acid.

Castiel relaxes his hold on Dean, rubbing his back as he heaves and gives back his meal to the dry earth below. Dean can't even get up, holding himself with hands on his knees, his eyes watering and his chest hurting. Dean starts to sob and he feels Castiel moving, standing over him, using his shadow to shield Dean from the unforgiving sun.

Dean brokenly cries and cries, calling out to Sam, his Sammy, until he passes out and is whisked away from the hill in angel arms.

Saying Dean somehow found a way to get his brother back would be a lie. It was the other way around, the way found him.

It was pure chance how he got his brother back, Dean was forced to go out on a hunting trip with Castiel because the angel worried if he left the man alone in the bunker, he'd kill himself, so he dragged him out and put him behind Baby's wheel, telling him the directions while Dean drove on autopilot.

The road was long and dark, free of any cars or life, an omen of what's to happen to Dean's life if he doesn't get his other half back. When suddenly, the sky ripped in half and light illuminated the road the endless fields of corn. Dean finally felt something in the weeks of breathing and living through the prison of his body. It felt like hope. That maybe that was it, this was the end, God finally decided to erase the dark of the night and everything with it, chucking their world into the bin like an unwanted first draft.

But instead a ball of light fell down in front of the car, cracking the dark asphalt. Castiel grabbed the wheel, swerving around the light as to not hit it and Dean finally braked the car, their bodies jolting forward with the force of it.

The two watched as the ball of light got smaller and smaller until a dark silhouette appeared, the light glowing from within the body, illuminating the lower half of their face. Castiel squinted his eyes and spotted another body in the arms of the glowing light. He got out of the car, his angel blade sliding in his palm as Dean slowly followed him, confused.

Thunder rumbled in the sky, loud and hungry, the angel watched the two bodies in weary silence when the sky rumbled again, splitting in half one more time, illuminating the road. Dean's breath caught in his throat when he saw floppy hair, broad shoulders and long legs. His body moved without his permission as he stepped away from the car, getting closer, to get a better look, and as if on cue, lightning struck again and there they were, the same sad eyes, green and wet and so Sammy in every way.

Sam took a step forward and the sky broke, thin rain spilling over them in baptisation and Dean knew this was it, his 40 days in the desert were over, he was finally replenished, he was finally whole again.

Sammy was here; his grace, his mercy, his peace, his promise, his baby brother, the son of his mother and father, Sam, Sammy.

Sam was in his arms in the blink of an eye, his body warm and alive. Dean hugged him tight, heart full and mind finally at peace. Dean squeezes him tight, as if trying to merge them together as one soul, one entity. Then Sam peels his face out of his big brother's neck, looking at him with wet eyes and Dean coos, wiping his cheeks with his fingers, holding him, petting him, then he can't help it anymore and leans forward, kissing Sammy between the eyes. It was so gentle, so worshipful, that Sammy felt weak in the knees. Sammy cries, his tears mixing with the rain from above and Dean kissed him again, this time on the forehead, then one in each cheek, the tip of his nose, on each eyelid and Sam didn't know what to do with himself so he held Dean tighter, his fingers digging hard on his arms, shoulders and neck, anywhere he could reach. And Dean didn't complain, he was over the moon. This is everything he's ever wanted.

After that it was a blur, Dean held his brother by the hand and walked him to the car, he wanted to go back home, his brother riding shotgun, where he belonged.

Castiel was the only one present and kept watch of the strange man wearing Dean's face with a glowing chest and Castiel knew he was danger. Castiel knew he should kill him, should get rid of him while Dean and Sam were distracted but then Sam calls over to the man and he walks to the car, reeking superhuman strength and predator.

Dean rides home with his brother by his side, an angel and a monster sitting in the back.

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tags <3

@klingyklaus @toasty-broski @28confusedthoughts @winchesterdefender @blackkmariah @106skin @redpopcat @arwenadreamer @nguyetdahuong @asongfortheunloved @rancidlovers @bcatwinchest @supfan67 @unabashedhonesty @hellfire-fist @nanacupid @arthrodira @loserluizard @jocelynfan @waywardsamdean @sastielbeltscene @sam-sinchester @masoena @winchestermylove @sammybeann @azrielrose @saltmonellas @boypussysam @monkibizznes @daddysboydean @notanotherthembo @i-already-know-im-going-2-hell @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @katamcauley @sams-princess-hair @redcl8ver @yuetyin940 @loserluizard @arthrodira @runawaydr3amerao3 @giulmu @palepuppytimetravel

[cherryeclipses]

everytime soldier boy shows up on my screen it feels like I’m watching porn. im so feral for his looks and energy 🤠😔

jensen ackles as soldier boy (the boys, 2022)

[petit-croissant]

I was looking at some Jensen pictures on my phone and my grandma went:

"Is it your boyfriend? 😏"

I WISH MAMIE, I WISH 😭🤣