#soldier boy fan fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

layce2015 · 1 year ago

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The Boys (Soldier Boy x Female!Supe!Reader)

(A/n: I wanted to say that writing this fic, I believe is gonna be the most mature, violent and sexual I’m gonna get in this story. If you have not watched this show, go to Amazon Prime and watch the show. If you are under the age of 18, probably do not read this.)

Next Chapter / Masterlist

1944

I was sitting in the waiting room with my husband, waiting for the nurse to call me. Few days ago, I had received a phone call from the doctor's saying that I needed to come in for a visit and it made me nervous as I am usually good on keeping up with my health.

I sighed as my husband, Adam, looks over at me. "You okay, honey?" He asked me in a concerned voice. "Just wondering why I am here." I said. "Did you miss an appointment? Or a shot?" Adam asked me and I shake my head. "No...at least...I don't think so." I said, thinking, then the door to the back of the office opens.

The nurse walks out of the door and looks at her clipboard. "Ms. (L/n)?" She said and I raise my head. "The doctor will see you now." She said and both Adam and I stand up.

We follow her to one of the back rooms until she stops in front of a room and opens the door. "The doctor will be with you soon." She tells us and Adam and I walk into the room and I sit in one of the chairs, Adam takes the chair next to me. He pats me on the back, soothingly, as I sit there and try to figure out what the hell this could be for.

Eventually, the doctor came I but the thing was, he didn't look like my normal doctor. My normal doctor was an older, balding man, this doctor was young and with a head full of dark black hair. "Hello, Ms (l/n)." The doctor said and I give him a confused look.

"Um, are you new? I've never seen you before. Where's Doctor Jefferson?" I asked him and I could've sworn I saw Cole give a nervous look at this new doctor. "Doctor Jefferson is on vacation. I'm Doctor Miller. I'll be taking over while he is on vacation." The young man said and I eyed him a bit but gave a reluctant nod.

"Anyway, it seems you are needing a shot for this new disease that's been going around, thanks to this horrible war we got." Doctor Miller said as he goes to the table near him and picks up a syringe with some blue liquid in it.

"New disease? I've never heard of a new disease." I said and Doctor Miller comes up to me, needle in hand. "Trust me, you need this, ma'am." Doctor Miller said but I felt like something was off. "No, I, uh..." I stammered, nervously, as I stand up but then Adam stands up next to me and places his hands on my shoulder.

"Adam?" I said, confused, as he starts to hold me in place as Miller comes at me with a needle. "Sorry, honey, but you need this." He said. "What are you talking about?!" I asked when Miller inserted the needle in my arm and I let out a yelp.

He pulls the needle out of my arm and I look at him. "What the hell did you just put in me?" I asked him just as I started to feel pain all over my body. I yelled then screamed as I doubled over and fall to the ground. I look up at Adam, and through my tears, I asked. "What did you do?" I asked then I screamed again.

"Honey, this will be a great opportunity for us. For you. And this is was the only way." Adam replied. "Why? Why me?" I asked as I felt another wave of pain. "Because Ms (y/n) we need someone like you." Miller replied and the pain subsides but I start to feel light headed then I pass out.

I groan as I slowly open my eyes, my vision was blurry but it seemed all I could see was white. I blink several times before my vision becomes clearer and I could see a figure standing before me.

I gasp and sit up to see Doctor Miller, if that was even his real name, in a white coat with a clipboard in hand, staring at me. "Where am I? Where's Adam? Who are you, really?" I asked, in a quick panicked voice.

"As I told you, I am Doctor Miller. You, Ms (y/n), are in the secret lab of Vought Tower. As for your husband, he is having a talk with my boss." Miller informed me. "Vought Tower? Why am I here?" I asked. "Because we have developed a serum, called Compound V. It gives the subject powers beyond our wildest dreams. And you, are among the first people to be injected with this wonderful serum." Miller explained and I raised an eyebrow at this.

”But why me?” I asked and Miller smirks. “Because you are the perfect woman for our idea of a female hero.” Miller said.

Present Day

I gasp, sit up and look at my surroundings, realizing that I was in my living room on my couch. I sighed as I try to shake off the terrible memory I just relived in my dream and looked over at my TV, seeing news coverage about that stupid hero group, The Seven, promoting their new movie Dawn of The Seven.

One of the news reporter had that prick of a leader, Homelander, talking to him and asked him a question, I am sure this guy is tired of hearing. "How could you not know all along that Stormfront was a Nazi?" the reporter asked and I could just tell by the look in his eyes that Homelander was exhausted and annoyed at the question.

But I can't say I blame the reporters for asking this question. It was a huge scandal last year that the newly added female hero, Stormfront, was a Nazi. And, to my surprise, she use to be Liberty who was someone I met years ago and use to work with. "Well, I am just a man who fell for the wrong woman. Uh, but, uh...out of crisis comes change. So I spent the last year really slowing down and reconnecting with myself. And I am very excited for everyone to meet the real me." Homelander replied and something about the look in his eyes made me feel a bit unsettled.

It could be just the pressure this man's under or he is really crazy, what the fuck do I know?

I rub the sleep out of my eyes then get up and head into the kitchen to grab something to drink. After grabbing a can of soda, my cellphone rings and I pull it out to see that my old friend, Bethany, was calling. “Hello.” I said. “Hey, (y/n). Was just checking if we were still up for lunch tomorrow?” Bethany asked me. “Yeah, yeah, I am.” I said, tiredly.

”Oh, did I wake you?” She asked me. “No, I just woke up from a nap…” I said. “Nightmares again?” She asked. “More like revisiting my past.” I said. “Is there a difference?” She asked me and I chuckled. “Well, there was some good.” I said. “I hope meeting me is one of them.” She said. “Hmmm, I don’t know…” I said, thinking. “Bitch, I better be.” Bethany said, in a fake offended tone, and I laugh again.

”Still as spunky as ever at your age.” I remarked as Bethany is in her sixties. “You’re only as old as you feel.” She said. “You got that right.” I said. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then?” She asked. “Yeah, I’ll see ya.” I said. “Alright have a good night.” Bethany said. “You too.” I said and I hang up then sighed again.

After turning the TV and lights off, I got a shower and started to get ready for bed. I sit on the side of my bed then look over at the bedside table to see a picture of me and Ben, AKA Soldier Boy. It was of me and him at some sort’ve movie premiere, I think it was one of his movies I really can’t remember which one as he did a fair amount of movies. He had his arm around my waist and I was hugged up to his side, both of us smiling for the camera.

You would’ve thought we were the perfect couple, the one people would aspire to be.

But we were far from perfect.

Ben and I always had our ups and downs over the decades. We always seemed to break up constantly, so much so that I’ve honestly lost count. But we always seem to go back to each other. It’s probably fucked up for me to say, knowing how he was, but he was the best man I’ve ever been with.

Sure, he could be rude and crude, full of himself, a flirt with any woman that had caught his eye, and was violent to people, including to some of our teammates, at times but…I couldn’t help but love him. He had his moments with me where he was honest, caring, and sweet in his own way.

I stared at the photo then set it on the table then looked up at the wall where I have his shield mounted. “Goodnight, Ben.” I muttered to the shield, as if he can hear me, then I start to get into bed and start to fall asleep.

Flashback

Miller left me in this godforsaken room after they had tested me on what abilities I can do. I was curled up in the fetal position on my bed when I hear the door to my room opening. I turn my head and see that it’s Adam that came in. I glared at him as my anger was growing.

”Hello, darling.” Adam said, cautiously. “Don’t call me that. Not after what you did to me.” I growled as I turn my head from him. “Oh, honey…” he said as he comes up to me but was pushed back by an invisible force. He looks surprised by this then looks at me. “Oh, I’m guessing this is one of your powers?” He asked me as I glare at him.

“Why? Why did you do this to me?” I asked him, angrily. “Think of it this way, darling, we’ll live that lavish we’ve always hoped for.” He said to me. “I wanted that but do it the proper way!” I exclaimed. “But this way is so much better and you’ll be famous. Everyone will know your name.” Adam said, excitedly.

“You know I hate being in the spotlight. Why the hell would you think I’d want to be famous? Let alone superhero level of famous?!” I spat, angrily. “It won’t be that bad. You’ll see, once you get started, you’ll actually start to like it. You might even make some new friends.” He said, sounding like he was talking to a child, and I begin to shake at this. Then I go to slap him but he was shoved back by an invisible force and he falls back and hits the padded wall.

“What the hell?!” He exclaimed. “Don’t you dare talk to me like I’m a child!!!” I shout as he scrambles back to his feet. “I’m just trying to help you.” Adam said. “Help me?! You’ve completely ruined my life!” I shout, livid. “Don’t be so dramatic, darling.” He said, waving his hand vaguely.

I growled under my breath and bared my teeth. “Get the hell outta my sight. Right now!” I screamed at him. “Oh, come now, (y/n)! Don’t act like a child!” He said and I stare at him. “I want a divorce.” I whispered and he stares at me. “You don’t mean that.” He said and I felt a tear run down my face. “I mean it. I don’t want to see you anymore.” I said then his face turns from concern to determine.

”Well, it’s not gonna happen, my dearest. We made a vow. For better or worse, remember? And also, you being a divorced woman? Your career will be ruined before it even started. People will look down on you.” Adam said and I glare at him again as my eyes begin to fill with unshed tears.

”I hate you.” I growled at him and he gives a small smirk. “You don’t mean that. You’ll see in time, this was what’s best for you.” He said then he leaves the room. Once the door closes behind him, I crumbled to my knees and begin to scream and cry.

Present Day

The Next Day

*3rd Person POV*

“You must be having a fսcking laugh. That little cսոt crawled up a guy's cock and blew him to bits. He almost killed Frenchie, and you're just gonna let him go 'cause Stan Edgar asked nice?” Billy Butcher asked Hughie, angrily. The night before they had captured an out of control Supe that was causing problems and brought him in to this company by Neuman that deals with out of control Supes. “Supe collateral damage is down 60%.” Hughie tried to assure him as Frenchie and Kimiko were sitting off the side into their own desks. “Oh, come off it. That's that twɑt Neuman talking.” Butcher argued.

”She has locked up more Supes this year than every other year combined.” Hughie argued. “Then you're a fսcking twɑt. Hughie, you're working with Vought! I'm...” Butcher argued until Kimiko made a loud, discordant music with her keyboard. “Fuck me. I should've done Termite when I had the chance.” Butcher growls.

“Look, look, look, things are good. We're actually winning.” Hughie said. “Winning, are we? Locking up a couple of nobodies ain't winning. They got all the money and all the power, and they want us dead. We're outmanned and outgunned, and we got to put them cսոts in a box before they do it to us.” Butcher shouts. “If you would just compromise a little bit...” said Hughie and this angers Butcher.

"Compromise? Fսck you. Your whole life's a compromise.” Butcher shouts. “Hey, at least I have a fսcking life!” Hughie shouts but then stops when he realized what he said as Butcher glares at him. “I didn't mean that. Look. Look. Can we just stop dancing around this? I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I left.” Hughie said as Kimiko continues to play her keyboard.

”You think I give a shite?” Butcher asked him. “Yeah, I think you do. I think you're pissed that M.M. and I both left.” Hughie said. “M.M. was a bit of a loss. You not so much.” Butcher said then he chuckled a little. “Butcher...it's been a year. You can stop all this. It's okay to stop. To move on. She would've wanted you to.” Hughie tells him as the keyboard music continues until Butcher couldn’t take it anymore.

”Oi, Stevie fսcking Wonder! Will you knock it off? You're doing me fսcking head in! Jesus fսcking Christ. Everyone's losing their fսcking minds.” Butcher shouts and Kimiko recoils back as Frenchie turns to her. “Hey. Forget it.” He whispers to her. “Or maybe they're just trying to be happy.” Hughie argues and Butcher glares at him again before he walks off.

Then Hughie turns to Kimiko. “I thought it sounded great.” He tells her as the door to the office opens then closes and Kimiko smiles at Hughie before she continues to play on her keyboard.

*(y/n)’s POV*

I laughed at the story Bethany was telling me as we sat at a table in this diner, eating lunch. “I mean, it was terrible! Made a mess everywhere!” She tells me, recounting the chaos her two year old grandson did at her house. “Sounds like tyrant.” I joked. “Oh he is but…he does have his cute moments and then I love him all over again.” She said and she gives a smile at this and I smile back.

”Must be nice.” I muttered. “Well, you could have that! My granddaughter told me about these dating apps people use nowadays to met people.” Bethany said and I groan and roll my eyes. “Beth, no…” I groaned and Bethany gives me a frown. “Oh, c’mon, you should met someone!” She said and I shake my head. “No.” I said. “Why not?” She asked me.

”I said no, Beth. I just…I’m not interested.” I said and Bethany gives me a sympathetic look. “Ben really did steal your heart, didn’t he?” She asked me and I frown and set my cup of coffee down on the table. Then she reaches over and places a hand over my hand. “I’m sorry. I know that it’s coming up on the anniversary of his death and it’s always hard on you. But I just…I just want you to be happy. See you smile again.” She tells me as she pats my hand.

”It’s more than he stole my heart, he was my other half. And I just feel…empty…” I said then I sighed. “Maybe we could do something for him on the anniversary?” Bethany suggests and I look over at him and give a small smile to her. “That does sound nice. I might look into that and let you know.” I tell her and she smiles at this. “Okay….” She said and I feel this overwhelming sadness taking over me.

”Excuse me.” I said, doing everything in my power not to burst into tears, and then I head to the bathroom and walk over to the sink. I take a deep breath then let it out, slowly, and look at myself in the mirror. And the moment I look at myself in the mirror, I start to cry.

After I cried in the bathroom for a bit, I clean my face then head back out and finish with my lunch with Bethany. She leaves and I sighed and run my fingers over my eyes as I hear someone take Bethany’s seat. “You’re early.” I said, plainly. “Well, would’ve been here sooner but your friend kept sticking around.” A female voice said and I raise my head up to see Queen Maeve sitting across me, wearing civilian clothes instead of her hero gear.

"You okay?" Maeve asked me, her eyes narrowed with concern. I raise an eyebrow at this then nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just...didn't have a good night sleep, is all." I said and I pull my bag towards me, dig into it and pull out the file. "Here is all the information I can give you." I said as I hand her the file.

"Whatever it was that killed Soldier Boy. I'm sure it will kill Homelander." I said as Maeve takes the file and opens it to read it. "I’m sure you know the crap Vought put out about his death is bullshit.” I said and Maeve nods. “I had a hunch. But to be sure, you didn’t see anything or how he died, right?” She asked me and I shake my head. “No, I didn’t. All I remember is that I was fighting alongside him then I was knocked out.” I said and Maeve nods as she closes the file and puts it in her own bag.

"Okay, well, I'll give this to Butcher and I'll see what I can do." Maeve said and I nod. "Just tell your friend that I don't want to be bothered by this. I want to be left alone." I said and she nods. "I understand." Maeve said then she stands up, walks up to me and pats my shoulder. "Thank you." She tells me and I smile at her. She smiles back at me then walks out of the diner while I sit there for a moment before I get up and walk out of the building.

Flashback

“Just follow the answers we gave you and everything will be alright.” Miller tells me as we stand in a back room area. We were in this grand ballroom and Vought wanted to introduce me as the new superhero, so they brought me and Adam into a back room to go over basically my script for questions that the press would ask me.

It had been a couple of months since I got powers and during that time they had to test me and see what kind of powers I would develop. It seems I have strength, the ability to move objects without touching them and some sort’ve shielding powers. They even came up with a name for me, Mystic Shade, and a backstory for me because if they told my real backstory that would make them look bad.

Now my story is I was born with these powers and ever since seeing this awful war that is going on with Germany, I wanted to help out anyway I could.

Vought came up with this to not only give the men someone to oggle at but someone the women could look up to and maybe have them want to help in the war as much as they could.

I stand there as I fidget with my fingers and looking down at my outfit, which was inspired by the nursing outfit the women wore and knee-high white boots. The little white tiara that adorn my head was slipping forward and I push it back in place.

”Darling?” Adam asked me and I look over at him as he holds my hand. I scoff and yank my hand out of his. I was still angry with him and we haven’t really talked much, only time we got together was when we went to bed but nothing would happen except just sleeping the night away.

I look over at Miller and nodded and he smiles then walks out of the room. “How long are you gonna keep acting like this?” Adam asked me. “Just because I can’t divorce you, doesn��t mean I’m gonna forgive you either.“ I replied. “You can’t stay mad at me forever.” He tells me and I turn to him, lean into him as I stare him into his eyes. “Watch me.” I challenged just as the door opens and a young woman comes in.

”Mystic Shade? You’re needed out there.” She said and I take a deep breath and follow her out of the room, leaving Adam alone in the room.

I walk up to the stage as Doctor Vought was at the microphone, talking. Then he turns to me and holds his arm out to me. “Now please welcome the new hero, Mystic Shade!” He said and I push back all of my negative emotions and smile and wave as I walk up to him while the crowd applauded.

I go to Dr. Vought and he shakes my hand then kisses both of my cheeks then leads me to the microphone. Once I get to the microphone, Dr Vought said. “Now, Mystic Shade, will be taking questions.”

And a flood of voices saying over here, over here chanted out and Vought points to a random person. “Yes, you there!” He calls out. “How does it feel to be selected to join by Dr. Vought?” A male voice called out. “Um, it is an incredible opportunity here. And I’m very excited to join.” I replied then more raised hands and voices. Dr Vought pointed out to a different man.

“When did you first discover your powers?” The second man asked me. “I was about fifteen or sixteen years old when I found out. I guess I was alway born with them it just didn’t develop until I became a teenager.” I replied. “And what are they? I mean, what can you do?” The man asked. “Well, I’m strong, I can move objects without touching them and I can make shields to protect myself and people around me.” I replied and there was a series of ooh’s and aah’s across the crowd.

Then another round of hands shooting up in the air and Dr Vought points at another hand. "So, are you gonna help out with the war? If so, how does it feel to be the first woman to be out in the field?" The third man asked. "It is something I never would've imagined but I want to help out not just the country but the people who are involved." I said then another man calls out.

"So what's it feel like to achieve everything you hoped for?" He asked and I paused at this. Truth is I didn't achieve anything, this is all a lie. I wanted to scream that out so badly but I couldn't as I stood there frozen. "I-I, uh..." I stammered then Vought comes up to me and places his hands on my shoulders. "I'm sure she feels fantastic. She's being very modest right now. Not being used to this kind of attention can make anyone freeze. So let's give a hand for our new hero!" Vought said and there was applause and I give a small, weak smile.

Minutes later, I walk out on the balcony and took in a deep breath then let it out. Being in that ballroom suffocated me. I lean against the stone railings of the balcony and took in some quick breathes until anger rose in my chest and I slam my fists down on it, making the stone crack. "Whoa-ho, remind me not to make you angry." A male voice said, a bit of a laugh in his tone.

I jumped at this, not expecting anyone out here, and look to my left to see a man, in a army uniform with a long coat, standing some feet away from me. "I'm not in the mood to talk." I grumbled and I look out on the balcony. "I figured. Saw you up on that stage....and well, here..." he said and I look over at him and see him holding a bottle out to me. "You need this more than me."

"Did you steal that from party?" I asked him. "More like borrowing." He said, shrugging, and I chuckled a bit then take the bottle from him. "Thank you." I said and I begin to drink from it. "I'm guessing rough day?" He asked me. “You could say that.” I muttered and I take another drink from the bottle.

“These Vought parties are never what the public thinks they are. The only good things here are the food, the booze…and the pretty women.” He said and he gives me a flirtatious smile. I giggled a little and smile, which I just realized is my first genuine smile I’ve made in months. “I’m flattered but…I’m married.” I tell him and he has a surprised look on his face.

”I don’t believe that.” He said and I raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh? And why is that?” I asked him. “No sane man, especially a husband, would leave you out here on your own.” He said and I laugh a little again. “Maybe, I wanted to be alone.” I said and he shrugs a little. “You may have a point. But, even so, shouldn’t be out here alone. Some stranger could try to chat you up.” He said. “Like you?” I asked him, smiling, and he chuckles.

”Yeah…” he mutters and we share a small laugh then he holds his hand out to me. “I’m Ben.” He introduces and I take his hand. “(Y/n).” I said as we shake hands. “(Y/n), beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He said and I give a bashful smile to him. “Thank you.” I said then he kisses the back of my hand and I felt my heart leap in my chest.

I haven’t felt this way in a long time, not since I married my husband.

“So, you happily married?” He asked me and my smile falters. “Judging by that frown, I’m guessing not.” Ben said and I sighed. “Just…going through a tough time right now.” I said. “That’s why I never married, when the tough times come in, there’s nothing to tie you down.” Ben said and I nod at this. “I’m starting to think that’s a good idea.” I said before I drink from the bottle again.

At that moment, we hear the door open behind us and I look over my shoulder to see it was Adam. “There you are.” Adam said as he comes up to me. Then he looks over at Ben and seems surprised. “Oh, I see you’re talking to your teammate.” He said and I furrow my brow. “Huh?” I said and Adam places an arm around my shoulder. “This is Soldier Boy. Your partner in the war.” Adam tells me and I was surprised by this.

I have heard the name Soldier Boy but I didn’t know what he looked like since I was trapped in that lab for the last few months.

I look over at Ben and he gives me a smile. “Surprise?” He asked me. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me for not recognizing you, sir.” I said to him. “It’s fine, just don’t go forgetting my face now.” He said, smiling, and I chuckled. “I most certainly will not.” I said and he nods.

”Well, I’ll leave you two alone. I’m sure I’m needed in there.” Ben said as he gestures to the door. And I felt a little sad about him leaving, I was kinda enjoying his company. “You two have a good evening.” Ben said as he walks over to the door. “And you as well.” Adam said then Adam turns to me as I look out on the balcony.

”I see you already starting the night off.” Adam said, gesturing to the bottle of champagne in my hands, but I don’t respond as I look over my shoulder in time to see Ben go to the door. It seemed he sensed me and he looks over his shoulder at me then smiles and gives me a wink before he walks in.

My heart absolutely fluttered at this and I felt my face go red before I look back out on the balcony

Present Day

*3rd Person POV*

"I heard Termite walked. My lead was good. What happened?" Maeve asked, annoyed, as she walks into Butcher's office. Butcher brings up his glass of whiskey up to his lips, stops as he looks at her then shakes his head. "Don't ask." He grumbles and he drinks from his glass.

"Well, we got to talk. I think I have something, thanks to my informant." Maeve said and she hands him a folder. "Informant?" Butcher asked as he takes the file and opens it to see some pages of information and pictures of Soldier Boy. "Soldier Boy. So what?" Butcher said as he looks up at her.

"Remember how he died?" Maeve asked him. "Stopping a nuclear meltdown in Ohio. '83, '84, I think, got buried beneath a reactor. Always thought it was bollocks." Butcher said. "Yeah, you thought right. Read." She tells him and he reads the file.

"What's B.C.L. RED?" He asked. "If you believe the rumors, it's the thing that killed Soldier Boy. My informant said it's some kind of gun or weapon or something. Had to have been a fսcking H-bomb. He was nearly as strong as..." Maeve said as Butcher looks through the file and looks at some pictures.

"If we can find this...weapon or whatever it is, maybe we can use it to blow Homelander's fսcking brains out." Maeve said. "If it is real, not some fսcking fable." Butcher said then he picks up the team-up picture of Payback. "Payback." Butcher mutters before he scoffs. "What a bunch of fսcking wankеrs." He said as he stares at photo. "When The Seven passed them as the number one super team, Crimson Countess sent me a box of cat shit. But not all of them were bad. She was a close friend of Soldier Boy and his ex-girlfriend." Maeve said as she gestures to the photo and points at the red-haired woman in the red outfit who was standing on the right of Soldier Boy.

"And, uh, Gunpowder was his sidekick." She said as she points at the young teen who was standing at Soldier Boy's left. "If anyone knows what happened to him, they do." Maeve said while Butcher noticed Noir in the photo. "Your mate Noir was in Payback. Why don't you ask him?" He asked her and Maeve scoffs. "Even if that walking tumor could talk, it wouldn't be to me." She said and Butcher looks at the photo again and noticed a woman standing on the other side of Gunpowder.

She looked about in her late twenties, her long (h/c) hair was braided and she was wearing a dark blue body-suit and a gold belt and knee high boots, a matching cape on her shoulders.

"Is that...?" Butcher started to ask and Mavee nodded. "Mystic Shade, yeah." She said. "Haven't heard that name in years." Butcher said and Maeve shrugs. "She retired sometime after Soldier Boy's death. She was fucking Soldier Boy." Maeve said as Butcher flips to another photo and this one was of Soldier Boy and Mystic Shade together. They were both smiling and Mystic Shade was hugging Soldier Boy as he had an arm around her waist.

Butcher then looks at Maeve. "Well then, I should be visiting her, not these two knobs." Butcher said but Maeve shakes her head. "No, Mystic Shade is off limits." She said, firmly, and Butcher gives her a curious look. "And why is that, princess?" Butcher asked and Maeve just glares at him.

Suddenly, it clicks with him. "Mystic Shade is your informant, isn't she?" He asked and Maeve averts his gaze and he smiles, knowing he was right. "Fine! Yes, she was the one that gave me this information. But she told me, specifically, that she didn't want to be questioned because this is all she wanted to give." Maeve said and Butcher watches her. "So, please, don't go bothering her." Maeve demanded.

"Well, well, well, didn't know you had such a soft spot for Mystic Shade." Butcher said and Maeve sighs. "We've been in communication for almost a year. Then when she heard about Homelander and all the fucked up things he's done and how I want him gone, she provided this." Maeve said and Butcher gives her a look that basically said he knew there was more to it.

"Fine, she was one of the heroes I looked up to when I was a kid, okay! Unlike most of these assholes, she actually cares about people." Maeve said. "Oh, I doubt that." Butcher said. "Doubt it all you want but it's the truth." Maeve said as she digs into her purse and pulls out a little bag. "Here." She said and Butcher takes the bag, unzips it and sees small vials of green liquid.

"What's this?" He asked her. "It's Temp V. One shot makes you a Supe for 24 hours. I mean, they think. It's still in R&D." Maeve said and Butcher gives her a look. "Oh, great, so powers, maybe. Maybe my bollocks swell up like footballs. Yeah?" Butcher said, sarcastically. "Payback may be a bunch of fսck holes, but they're strong. And they're dangerous. If you're going against them, you're gonna need it." Maeve warns.

"And what makes you think that me, of all people, would want to turn into one of you?" Butcher asked her as he takes a step closer to her. "This is our best chance to kill Homelander. Don't fսck it up." She said.

*(y/n)’s POV*

I sat at the table of my kitchen, staring at the letter I had received in the mail today. I sighed as I reread this damn letter from an old teammate of mine.

Mystic Shade,

I hope this letter finds you well. I know it has been years since we’ve talked or seen each other but I wanna discuss something with you. I can’t do it over the letter, I want to talk, face to face.

Voughtland is having a in memory of the anniversary of Ben’s death tomorrow and I’m gonna be there as a special guest. I’m hoping you could come and I’ll even tell my agent that you’re coming so you can come backstage for free.

I do hope to see you there.

Crimson Countess

”Shit.” I grumbled as I look at the letter. Countess and I were never really close, so her asking to talk to me is beyond weird. But curiosity did peak my interest so I decided that I’ll go and see what she wants.

@winchestergirl1720 @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @kitsun369 @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @deangirl96

#fandom #fanfic #fan fiction #reader insert #fan fic writing #jensen ackles #x reader #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x reader #reader imagine #superhero #the boys tv #tv show fandom #tv shows #tv ships

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redqueenphoenix · 1 year ago

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My latest Hyper fixations...

Well.... I realize now I have a type and that type is: men that would wreck me and I would be alright with that!

#The Watchmen #The Comedian #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan #The Walking Dead #Soldier Boy #The Boys #fanfics #fan fiction #ao3 #writer #twd fanfiction #twd negan #negan smith #negan fanfiction #fan fic #ao3fic #ao3 writer #ao3 author

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starofhisheart · 2 years ago

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#personally i prefer homelander #but mostly bc I've read some great fics between them #and not as big of a fan of solider boy as I am of homelander #both terrible options but im curious where ppls minds (and dicks) r at #the boys #homelander #hughie campbell #soldier boy #hughie x homelander #hughie x soldier boy

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syrma-sensei · 2 years ago

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A must read.

Bad Reputation – Series Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Series Summary: In a world full of careless supes, powerful people, and corruption on all levels, Y/N’s the typical millennial, trying to make the world a better place one good deed at a time. As a civil rights lawyer in New York City, justice, kindness, and selflessness are her motto. Her patience is tested, however, when none other than America’s ass himself shows up on her doorstep and needs help.

Series Warnings: +18, strong language, offensive commentary and The Boys-related topics, angst, violence (blood, injuries, death etc.), the usual humor 🙃, PTSD, drugs & drinking, enemies to lovers, smut (eventual but no slow burn), more individual tags in chapters

A/N: Hey loves! Got this idea three weeks ago and it follows somewhat the events of S3 but has some time adjustsments here and there to fit the story I wanna tell 😉 It will conclude after 12 chapters. I hope you enjoy! 😈

Feedback is my fuel, so please let me know if you liked it or if something made you laugh, cry, blush etc.! 🖤

Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 ||

Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 ||

Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 ||

Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 ||

This series is FINISHED because I’m a fucking professional here! 🖕

#bad reputation masterlist #soldier boy #soldier boy series #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys fanfiction #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy imagine #female reader insert #soldier boy reader insert #soldier boy fan fic #the boys fan fic

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tom-whore-dleston · 1 year ago

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Denial and Devotion

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x f. reader

Word Count: 880

This fic contains: preludes to smut, implied smut, amnesia, mentions of squirting and fingering, reader was a Soldier Boy fangirl (like me fr xD), toxic celebrity culture?

Summary: You are in denial that you slept with the Supe you used to crush on.

Notes: I'm just a girl that writes Soldier Boy fanfic at 2am knowing damn well I have work at 9am flksdghk this gif replays in my brain every waking moment of the day I literally hate how hot he is >:( This is my weekly contribution to @flashfictionfridayofficial’s prompt no. 241: Hour of Denial

The moment you rose from your slumber, you knew something was wrong. First off, you woke up in a room that you did not recognize. Then, you realized the cotton sheets of the unfamiliar bed clung close to your bare skin as if you had slept in it before.

You attempted to lift yourself out the bed, but your muscles were weak, soreness more prominent in your hips and thighs. As you winced in discomfort, your eyes widened upon the discolored love bites scattered over your body. Your eyes finally glanced to the opposite side of the bed, only to discover the person occupying it was none other than Soldier Boy.

When you were younger, Soldier Boy was your first crush. At the time, he was presumed dead, but your father would tell you stories about how he was one of the greatest superheroes to ever live. Your childhood room was covered in Soldier Boy posters and you had a doll of him that never left the box. As you got older, you conducted more research on the man you worshiped, but eventually learned that he was a monster in a superhero costume. As a result, you ripped the posters to shreds and finessed some cash off the doll in hopes to erase any trace of your Soldier Boy phase.

You stared in disbelief at the same man that lay peacefully asleep. Your mind raced with questions. The only logical answer to all of them was that you were dreaming. To test the theory, you pinched your forearm as hard as you could. After cursing from the pain, you tried another method by poking Soldier Boy in his meaty bicep. Without fluttering his eyes open, he grunted in annoyance and rolled over.

If your head wasn’t already spinning, it definitely was at this very moment. You slithered out of the bed, making sure not to disturb the sleeping man, and frantically searched for your clothes. In a hurried attempt, you shimmied back into your little black dress from the night before. Regardless of whether this was all a dream or not, you silently vowed that you are remaining sober for the rest of the month.

“Where you going so fast, sweetheart?” You turned toward the groggy voice that belonged to Soldier Boy, who was propped up against the bed frame with his muscular torso in view. It felt as if no time had passed since the beginning stages of your devotion to Soldier Boy. Your eyes scanned over his physique with a hunger that only he could satisfy. Heat radiated your body and you stood paralyzed in your unzipped dress, leaving enough uncovered for his imagination to run wild.

As Soldier Boy hopped out of bed, you swiftly turned away as his thick cock unveiled from the thin sheets. He began walking towards you, but you ignored him by fiddling with the zipper on your back. You grew frustrated with the zipper’s defiance the closer the beefy supe inched towards you. His intense stare begged for your attention until he took matters into his own hands by lifting your chin up to his gaze. Your heart pounded against your chest as his green eyes studied your face. Except there was no studying necessary.

“I’m a little embarrassed by this,” you laughed nervously, “but I don’t remember anything from last night.”

Soldier Boy smirked. “Want me to give you a reminder?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” You paused. You may not have been as infatuated with the supe as much as you once were, but you didn’t want to come off as rude. “I mean…I’m sure last night was great but I shouldn’t impose-“

“Great? Well if you define squirting on my fingers and cock until you begged me to stop as great then maybe I gotta fuck you harder.”

You were about to let out a moan, but quickly masked it with a sigh. Every part of you wanted to hate him but the ache in between your legs betrayed your voice of reason.

“You can play the ex-fangirl game all you want, but you and I know you never truly get over your first crush.” There wasn’t a more pathetic feeling than regressing back into that naive girl who treated a flawed superhero like a god.

Suddenly, your back hit the wall and Soldier Boy towered over you, his arm the only thing keeping him from pressing you against the wall to grind into your core. His free hand hooked under the strap of your dress, slowly pulling it off your shoulder. As the dress pooled around your feet, he lightly kissed the crook of your neck, electricity coursing your blood as his beard pricked your skin.

His hot breath fanned over your ear. “There’s no need to deny me anymore, sweetheart. I’m here for you to worship and fulfill all your pretty little fantasies.”

Fuck it.

All your common sense flew out the window as you desperately smashed your lips against his. Gripping your wrists, he pinned you against the wall before grinding his semi hard cock against your wet pussy.

Soldier Boy may have been the biggest pain in your ass, literally and figuratively, but he was right about you never fully recovering from your first crush.

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Soldier Boy Masterlist

header credit: @saradika | divider credit: @firefly-in-darkness

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 year ago

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Permanent Surrender

This fic will cover my A Locket-A weapon-An Unexpected Kiss square on my 2nd @jacklesversebingo card.

Summary: Ben and Y/N hate each other...but what lies just over the edge of hate?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Of course - it's Soldier Boy! Misogynistic language, Ben being an asshole. Rough, unprotected PinV sex, vaginal fingering, anal sex, spit and cum as lube, Oral (m receiving) slight face fucking, dub con (let's call it forceful seduction), lots of dirty talk.

Pairings: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader and Soldier Boy x Sarah (sort of)

Word Count: 3,633

A/N: So this is my next square for my second jacklesversebingo card. The request for this one came from @deans-spinster-witch who sent an ask saying simply:

A locket, a weapon, an unexpected kiss with Soldier Boy & the reader?

Rewatching 3x08, I came upon this classic line and it got my dirty mind rolling:

So, this is what I came up with, hon! Hope you (and everyone else too) enjoy it! ❤️ If you do, don't forget to like, comment and/or reblog. It means the world.

The dividers used here are created by @silkholland

The skyline of New York City stretched out in front of Sarah for miles, lights twinkling like fallen stars in the inky black sky. The night had taken its toll on her and she found herself with a bit of a headache. She rubbed a hand over her forehead as images of the night came back to her.

…the terrorists storming into their company's New Year's Eve party…

…the screams of fear from those around her as the Soviet terrorists forced them, at gunpoint, into the small, crowded conference room…

…the feeling of soaring relief and happiness as something smashed through the windows on the eightieth floor of Takao Corporation Headquarters…

…the way her heart beat triple time when she realized it was him - Soldier Boy! He'd come for her, just as she'd known he would…

He'd saved them all and sent those Soviet bastards packing!

And now she stood free and safe, in the chill of a New York December night, with only a light sweater over her shoulders. She shivered and considered going back inside, but then suddenly he was there - walking towards her in his emerald green suit, not even a single tear in it from his gallant rescue.

“Hey, sweetness.” He said as he reached her and ran his hands up and down her arms. “You're gonna catch pneumonia out here. I didn't come all this way to save you just to lose you to a cold.”

He smiled at her warmly and she felt her insides tremble.

“Oh, speaking of lost things…” He reached into a pocket in his sleeve and pulled out a delicate gold chain with a locket dangling from it.

Sarah gasped. “My grandmother's locket!” She exclaimed with wide eyes. “When those bastards ripped it from around my neck, I never thought I'd see it again.”

Soldier Boy shook his head. “I knew I had to get this back to you. I know how much it means to you, being the last thing your grandmother ever gave you. I couldn't let them take it.”

Sarah’s eyes welled up with tears as Soldier Boy held up the locket and nodded towards her.

“May I?” He asked.

She nodded and he stepped close to her, clasping the fine gold chain around her neck.

When he had it in place, he stepped back from her slightly, but remained close. He let his finger trail down the cold metal links resting on her warm skin and when he spoke his voice was deep and warm.

“So…” He seemed a little nervous and Sarah blushed. “I know it's well after midnight, but…do you think I could steal a New Year's Eve kiss?”

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I thought you'd never ask.”

He smiled into their kiss…

…and the music swelled, the camera slowly panning away into a long crane shot until the screen faded to black and the credits finally began to roll.

The Heart of Rock and Roll by Huey Lewis and the News blasted from the speakers as the theater erupted in applause, everyone cheering the latest exploits of Soldier Boy. Once again he'd shot down all the bad guys (except for a few who's throats he slit), saved all the hostages and, of course, got the girl.

Ben and Y/N came out onto the small stage at the front of the theater and gave everyone a wave. Ben spoke into the microphone someone had placed in front of him.

“Thank you so much for coming to the premiere of ‘Falling Thunder’. We hope you enjoyed it; we sure enjoyed making it.”

Ben smiled down at Y/N and squeezed the hand he held very hard until a smile popped up on her face. She leaned into the microphone.

“Yes, what an adventure this has been. And thanks so much to the best partner I could ask for.” She gushed, latching onto Ben's bicep and then coyly burying her face in the same arm as the audience oohed and aahed and whistled at them.

Ben laughed and chucked her chin, throwing her a wink and making all the women in the audience melt into puddles. The two of them flashed a few more smiles and waved again as they walked offstage. The second they were past the curtain, they dropped their smiles and each other's hands.

Y/N breathed deeply and turned to face the man she loathed more than she ever thought possible.

“Well, I can't say this was fun, but it's done and we never have to see each other again, so there's that.”

Ben turned his head to sneer at her. “Well, I'm still seeing you now.”

Y/N clenched her jaw as she turned and stomped away from the absolute asshole the rest of the world knew as Soldier Boy.

From their first moment on set to their very last take, they'd hated each other. Everything Ben did pissed her off, every snide comment, every lude suggestion made her want to smack him till his ears rang.

She knew he felt the same. He'd told her numerous times, when she’d refused to sleep with him, that she was just a frigid bitch.

“Women like you need to be fucked long and hard so you remember your place.” He'd growled at her after the last time he'd cornered her and tried to fuck her in her trailer. He'd stormed out unsatisfied, slamming her trailer door off its hinges.

That's how it had been the entire six weeks of shooting.

Y/N couldn't deny that the asshole was incredibly hot and she had definitely been tempted by him quite a few times. His face was so goddamn perfect and his lips were so wide and full she just wanted to suck on them like candy.

And his body. Fuck!

Having been pressed up against him many times throughout filming she knew just how rock solid he was, how his muscles felt rippling beneath her hands, and it definitely left her wanting so much more. But she'd never give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right when he whispered dirty accusations in her ear.

“I know you're soaked for me, baby.” He told her one day on set. He leaned in towards her and inhaled deeply. “I can fucking smell it.”

He'd told her over and over that she was denying herself the best sex of her life. She'd scoffed at him and rolled her eyes which never failed to piss him off. But secretly, she thought he might actually be telling the truth.

But now she'd never know.

She sighed deeply as she continued to wait at the coat check for the girl to find her coat in the back and bring it out so she could leave the theater behind, along with the group of Hollywood phonies involved with the movie.

Mostly though, she admitted, she wanted away from temptation.

She was desperate to leave because now that it was becoming real in her mind that her time with Ben was well and truly over, she was beginning to feel a kind of panic setting in - as though overwhelming disappointment was washing over her.

She was coming to realize that actually, a part of her had hoped that he’d win their little war. A deep-down-dark part of her had wanted him to fuck her and emerge victorious. She hated admitting it, even to herself, but she'd never been so turned on by a man in her life. Her body flushed and her core muscles clenched just thinking of him.

She angrily rang the little bell on the desk a few times. She needed to get her coat and get the fuck out of here.

Suddenly the little blonde who worked behind the counter popped out from between two trench coats. Her face was all red and she seemed a bit loopy. She was grinning and giggling. “I can't…I can't find your coat. You should go back and look for yourself.”

She pressed a button under the desk and the door swung open. The girl ran out, leaving Y/N to stare after her in confusion.

“What the fuck?” Y/N mumbled. She scowled and shook her head, slipping through the door before it clicked shut and relocked behind her. She pushed her way through the racks and racks of coats, soon becoming lost in a sea of wool and tweed.

Suddenly she felt a hand grab her wrist and pull her behind the last row of coats. There was a wide spot there between the coats and the back wall. And in that spot Ben slammed her back against the wall, thrusting a knee between her legs and holding both wrists stretched above her head.

He easily held her wrists in one hand, so his other one was free to wrap around her throat as his face hovered above hers.

“Together again, baby.”

Out of habit Y/N pulled away from him, trying to free her wrists, but it was like trying to escape steel manacles.

“Why are you fighting what we both know you want?” He asked smugly. He dropped his hand from her throat and ran it down her body, reaching her stocking-covered thigh and squeezing hard.

“What will I find if I tear these fucking pantyhose off? If I try to make you come on my fingers, are you gonna be dripping for me?”

Y/N felt her panties flood even more at his words, giving an answer to his very rhetorical questions. But she tried to pull her leg out of his grip and struggled against his hold.

“Fuck off, you piece of shit!” She hissed at him. “I thought you were out of my goddamn life!”

Ben trailed his fingers further up her thigh and shook his head. “N’ah, gave that little blonde bimbo a hundred dollar bill and quick finger fuck to get her out of here. So I could have you all to myself at last.”

It occurred to Y/N that she should probably be a lot more afraid than annoyed. There was absolutely nothing stopping this Titan from holding her down and doing anything he wanted to her.

But just like all the times before, she was frustrated, not scared. She knew he didn't want to take her. He wanted to get her. He wanted her to admit how badly she lusted after him. He wanted her to give in.

He wanted to win.

To that end, he pressed his lips behind her ear and made her shiver. His fingers ran just under the hem of her little black dress.

“I know how much you want me.” His voice was low and smooth in her ear. “I know you've probably spent hours and hours fantasizing about me throwing you down and fucking you stupid. Have you imagined that? Hmm?” He asked as he pulled down the thick strap on her dress and trailed his sinful lips across her shoulder.

“How do I fuck you in your fantasies, Y/N? Do I make you come on my tongue first? Or do I just bend you over and ram my fat cock into that dripping mess of a cunt?”

Y/N was still shaking her head, but she was panting now too. She wanted to keep telling him no, but her whole body thrummed a resounding yes.

But it wasn't enough for him, he wanted her total surrender.

“Tell me, Y/N. How do you wanna be fucked? Slow and teasing or hard and pounding? Do you want me to fuck this gorgeous mouth of yours.” He paused to lick her lips open and a moan escaped her.

He smiled wickedly, but didn't relent. “In your dreams are you on your knees, baby? Are you taking my cock down your throat like such a good girl? Are you gagging on it?”

He raised his knee slightly, flexing the muscle and making it push against her core. She sucked in a ragged breath and then cried out harshly as he pulled back and then slammed it against her pussy, the ridge of muscle in his thigh pressing perfectly and making her roll her head back and forth on the wall, trying to deny how desperately she wanted him.

“Do you like that, my little slut? Do you like fucking yourself on my thigh? Yeah, you do, don't you? I know just how badly you want me to fuck you, how badly you wanna be reamed by a big fat cock. Need somebody to fuck you down good, don't you? Need to be fucked so hard you can't walk for a week.”

Y/N wasn't even trying to stop the sounds of pleasure sliding out of throat, she couldn't possibly manage it. But she still pulled uselessly against his grip, still wouldn't give in.

Ben's voice was deliciously dark and deep as he continued. “All you have to do is say the word, Y/N. Well, two words actually. Just say, ‘I surrender.’ and I'll fuck you so good, keep you coming and coming.”

Y/N bucked her hips forward, rubbing against his thigh once again. She opened her mouth to tell him to fuck off, but only pathetic, whimpering sounds came out now so she slammed it shut.

Ben sensed his victory in the air and he smiled darkly. “Just fucking say it, baby. We both know you want it, you're not fooling anyone anymore. So surrender and I'll take you where you stand, fuck you against this wall till your knees buckle. Fill every fucking hole and have you absolutely begging for more.”

It was the breaking point for Y/N. “Oh goddamn it. Yes. Okay. Do it.” She gasped, but it wasn't enough for Ben.

He pulled her away from the wall and spun her to face it. He let go of her wrists so he could collect them again behind her back. He tore the front of her dress down to her waist. She wore no bra and the cold cement wall felt rough against her bare tits when he pressed her against it.

He wrenched her tight dress up to bunch around her waist, shredded her pantyhose with his fingers before yanking her panties down and then freeing his cock from its confines.

He groaned as he slid it up and down through the wetness he’d known he’d find. He pressed the very tip to her entrance and stopped. He applied his weight and strength against her, so she couldn't move a muscle, couldn't push back on him, couldn't create any kind of friction for herself.

“This is it, little tease. You've been denying me for weeks and weeks now. Trying to make me believe you didn't want me. Well now my cock is just waiting to fuck you apart, ready to make you scream. So tell me bitch, do you surrender?”

Y/N felt her last thread of resistance fall away and she simply didn't care about pride anymore.

“Yes, goddammit, yes. I fucking yield, I surrender, whatever you wanna hear. Just fuck me, you asshole!”

With that auspicious capitulation, Ben didn't wait another second. He rammed himself deep, and then deeper into Y/N's cunt. He didn't wait for her first cry of pleasure to end before he pulled out and slammed back again, this time lifting her off the floor with the force of his thrust.

He smashed her up against the wall, holding her wrists tightly behind her and crushing her body against the cement as he fucked up into her over and over.

The tip of his huge cock dragged across her sweet spot with every punishing thrust. He was relentless and perfect and Y/N could only pant and beg him not to stop. Soon she was falling over the edge harder than she'd ever fallen. He buried his fingers in her slick and rubbed her clit hard as he kept ramming himself into her so deep that Y/N knew no one would ever fill her the same way again.

As he'd promised, he kept her coming and coming.

After one particularly powerful climax, Y/N felt as though her brain had liquefied, and was only vaguely aware of what was happening as Ben pulled out of her and shifted her away from the wall. He bent her double and dropped her wrists.

He spread her ass cheeks wide and spit on her before dragging slick up from her cunt on his fingers and coating the tight ring of muscle there. He pushed the tip of his middle finger in and groaned.

“Fuck this ass is tight. Have you ever been ass fucked, my little whore? My cock the first to breach it?”

Y/N gave a disjointed nod, gasping as he pushed his finger in further and spit on her again. “Yes. I've never.” The garbled words were all she could manage.

Ben hummed. “Fuckin’ love that I get to pop this cherry.”

He spread more slick and spit over her asshole as he continued to push in his thick middle finger, stretching her slowly.

“Okay, baby, this is gonna sting.” He warned as he positioned his cock at her back entrance. “I'm gonna go slow, but I'm gonna give you every inch. And I want you to take it all. Got it?”

Y/N bit her lip as her slick continued to leak down her thighs. “Yes, I wanna feel so full of you.” She panted, so far past the point of denial.

Ben grunted. “Fuck yes.” He pushed forward slightly and it definitely stung. Then he pushed further and it hurt. He stopped as he met resistance. “You need to relax baby. Don't fight me.” he guided her, stroking down her back. He put his hands back on her cheeks, spreading her ass wide again.

“Play with your tits, flick your clit, let yourself enjoy the stretch and burn.” He advised. She did what he suggested and soon she was lost in pleasure again, moaning harshly. He pushed further into her ass, restraining himself from slamming into her as hard and deep as he wanted to. He'd rip her open if he did. So he continued to go slow and listened for her sounds of pleasure as he proceeded.

Finally he was pushed into her completely, buried so deep she felt like she might burst.

“Good girl.” He praised, reaching around and swirling his finger around her clit while she squeezed her own tits hard.

“I'm gonna move now. I'll start as slow as I can, but I'm gonna wanna speed up soon. Think you can handle me?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes. I can take it.”

Ben slid three thick fingers into her cunt and she cried out. He grunted against her spine, and then bit her there, leaving marks.

“This is how I've wanted you for so long, completely stretched, stuffed so full of me you can barely breathe.”

Y/N let out a keening moan and Ben pulled out of her ass slowly. Inside her pussy his fingers found her sweet spot and pressed there gently, tormenting her. He slid slowly in and out of her tight hole for a while stretching her and easing the way.

Finally, when he couldn't hold back anymore, he pressed his fingers in circles against her g-spot making her explode and clench around his fingers.

As she rode her climax, Ben took the chance to slam in and out of her hard and fast, letting the scorching pleasure of her orgasm dull the pain of his huge cock slamming deep and rough into her ass.

Finally he pulled out completely and pushed Y/N down to the floor, leaving her on her knees. She looked up at him, fuck drunk and barely conscious as he pumped his cock.

“Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.” Ben ordered her through gritted teeth. She obeyed immediately and he tapped his heavy cock against her tongue. “Suck it.” He growled.

Y/N closed her lips around him, sucking hard as she gagged on his thrusting cock.

Finally Ben's hips stuttered and he grabbed the back of her head so he could bury his cock deep down her throat.

He came with a roar and Y/N realized if there were any other people coming to get their coat, they could likely hear everything. But gone along with her pride, was her ability to feel embarrassment. All she wanted was for Ben to keep fucking her. Forever.

He pulled out of her mouth, letting cum and spit dribble onto her tits and her tattered dress. He took pride in the way she was completely broken in now. He knew after this he could fuck her whenever he wanted to; she'd never say no again.

Y/N tried to come back to reality, but her brain was buzzing and her body was throbbing, sore and stiff, but already aching for him again.

Ben tucked away his dick and zipped himself up, before he grabbed a coat. It wasn't hers, but she didn't protest as he wrapped her up in it, covering the torn dress and cum stains.

“Come on, my little cock tease. Let's get you back to my hotel. There are still so many ways I wanna fuck you.” He knew what the answer would be, but his ego asked the question anyway. “You gonna fight me on it? Or are you finally ready to admit this is what you've wanted all along?”

A long distant voice echoed in her head telling her she should be fighting this, but it was faint and easily ignored. She nodded and stopped to pull him down into a kiss.

“Fuck yes, asshole. I permanently surrender.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Other Jensen Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@akshi8278

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@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

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@kickingitwithkirk

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@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

#jacklesversebingo23 #soldier boy (ben) x reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fan fic #the boys fan fic #request fic

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jensensgotyoudean · 2 years ago

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Oh Riz, you did not disappoint with this one 🥵 I’d meet up with him in a dirty alley any time 🤪🔥🔥

Hero Worship

From the moment you met Soldier Boy, you knew the obsession would become your life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Word Count: 2094

Warnings: Smut. Just smut.

For mah Liz @jensensgotyoudean 💚💚💚 Dividers by @firefly-graphics

It was dangerous downtown. A battle was raging in the street, Payback out in force against some criminal element, you didn’t really know the details. There was no reason for you to be there. Well, there was no good reason.

You were there for him.

You had bought the police scanner a couple of weeks after you met him for the first time. Some big media frenzy parade, all the members of Payback shaking hands, posing for pictures, signing autographs for rabid fans. Soldier Boy had posed and strutted and smirked his way through the crowd, but when his eyes had landed on you – he had paused, one side of his sinful lips drawn up in a lecherous smile. “Well, hello there, beautiful,” he had said, his voice smooth and warm as hot buttered rum. He had taken your hand in his, brought it to his lips, and gave it a kiss that immediately brought to mind how those lush lips would feel elsewhere. “Hope I can run into you again sometime.” His eyes were dark with promises of what could happen, if that were to happen. When he left you standing there, your knees were weak and there was a steady throbbing between your thighs that took way too long to subside.

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#soldier boy #fanfic #rizlow tag #hotter than hot 🔥#soldier boy fan fic

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bluemerakis · 2 months ago

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────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ───

❝ memory foam ❞

─ ۶ৎ ─

pairing ୨୧ soldier boy x fem .ᐟ reader

synopsis ─ soldier boy teaches you how to roll a blunt and then makes you hold it between your lips while he fucks you into insanity. just filth honestly bc this man is filthy and i love it

warnings .ᐟ cussing, light misogyny throughout (i mean,, come on), v light dirty talk, masturbation f receiving, hair-pulling, grinding, edging/overstimulation, spanking, fingering, unprotected sex p in v. i feel like these warnings have y’all opening this fic with a therapist on speed dial. if i forgot anything pls lmk!

word count ~ 7.3k (this was supposed to be a drabble 😀)

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Lithe trails of smoke crept over the horizon of your laptop screen, which called your attention toward Ben’s seated figure at the small, rounded table near the kitchen. You reached to lower your laptop screen an inch—just enough to properly reveal the schemes unravelling beneath your boyfriend’s hunched over frame. You didn’t doubt that he was currently unravelling some recent haul of self-indulgent narcotics because as much as you loved your severely traumatised, addict boyfriend, he didn’t have any other tasteful way to pass time. Well, when he wasn’t ploughing you into the mattress and pummelling your senses into an otherworldly abyss of pleasure, of course.

Ben had slipped into the apartment an hour ago with that dubious, white plastic bag in clutch—no print to identify any luxurious takeaway you’d have killed to plunge into your gurgling stomach. You’d been tempted to ask about it then, but he’d entered with such a thick swathe of broodiness cramping his brows that you’d laid off the interrogation entirely. Though, just by stealing a single glance of the bag in its own, unassuming simplicity, it could have branded itself as some sketchy stash of drugs he’d picked up from one of his regular dealers on the way home.

You honed in on the man of the hour, your unflattering nosiness taking the cake on the mental debate of whether or not you should interfere with Ben’s activities. It was a debate that had never happened to begin with because meddling in anything and everything that he did was practically your brand—no questions asked. You’d once called it a loving obsession, but Ben had called it a hounding cock block on his highs. You’d been quick to rebrand your pestering of him as your own guilty addiction, and he hadn’t had much to say in response to that. He had his addictions, and you had yours—him. Oh, he so must’ve regretted accommodating you into his life.

Your boyfriend’s sharp features were currently kneaded into a focused frown, his head tilted down to where he emptied out the plastic packet onto the table. Your chin perked with sly interest, no further surprise to be unwrapped when you glimpsed a sprawl of paper and herbs. Drugs, as expected, but nothing nearly as hard as his usual indulgences. Your attention flickered up to the blunt currently clutched between his lips—the bane of your existence—before you lowered your focus back down to the table, where his busy hands alternated between segregating the devious mess and popping out his smoking stick to dispel a pull.

You didn’t need to squint hard to confidently label said herbs as weed—once the distinct scent left his lips to shroud the modest apartment and assault your sensitive nose, it was a dead giveaway. You’d never been much of a fan of smoking to begin with, and weed might’ve been the rankest pick of it all, but it’s something you’d gradually grown tolerant of. It’s not like you had much of a say in the matter, anyway, given that your boyfriend had his lips wrapped around a cig almost as often as he had them wrapped around you. It was a relationship that had existed long before yours, so who were you to complain, really?

Besides, this was his apartment, which meant that his guilty pleasures were anything but your business. And you doubted that your complaint would manage a graze of his ears before his cock would plug your lips to shut you the hell up about it. He didn’t much like when you had an attitude about his aforementioned hobbies.

“Ah, shit!” Ben exclaimed angrily around the blunt’s body—a muffled sound that banished smoke from his pursed lips. You watched as he tossed aside the plastic packet, seizing his tempter by the throat as he thudded his palm against the table. “Fuckin’ dickless prick sold me short,” he grumbled to nobody in particular, releasing the blunt for a disgruntled exhale before his lips took to it once more like his next, dire breath.

You plugged your lips at his temper tantrum, throttling a chuckle you knew would be severely misplaced during this fit of his. You couldn’t help it, though. Ben loved to pretend that he was ‘man enough’ to be unbothered by trivial things, but it never took much to get under his skin. The irony was so palpable that you could’ve poked and prodded at it with ridicule. “What’re you doing?” You called to him with an accentuated chirp to your tone—you’re curious, oblivious, not probing.

Ben’s eyes lifted from the table for a second to glance in your direction, where you sat comfortably cushioned against the headboard of his bed. His glare hovered for a few measly seconds, holding no adoration at this particular time. It made you utter a mental damn. At most, he’d give you a wink or a scheming narrowing of his eyes that spoke all sorts of dirty he’d have loved to work you through. But he merely turned back to the task at hand, freeing the blunt from his tightly-wrung lips.

Yeah, women are the moody ones, you remarked mentally. What a chuckle-fest.

The supe gave a hefty exhale, smoke streaming out in a slow gust that told you a somber story of a shit-filled day. His whole demeanour was off-put. A good girlfriend would’ve asked him about it, but a smarter one—like yourself—knew err on the side of caution. You’d long since learned not to pester him about his emotions because, to quote Ben: ‘only pussies hold hands and waste daylight wailin’ about this ‘nd that. Me? I ain’t strokin’ anybody’s cock with some me too bullshit. You gotta act the man and suck it up.’

Yeah, you weren’t going to open that can of worms again.

Without sparing you another glance, Ben jerked his head in your direction. “Get over here,” he demanded distractedly. “It’s ‘bout time I teach ya the hustle o’ this shit.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll leave the lung cancer to you,” you poked light-heartedly, but you shifted your laptop aside to scamper across the mattress regardless. Unfortunately, you were the type to spend any given chance at your boyfriend’s side, and it didn’t matter how trivial the activity was—it was all about the quality time. Ben was overly tolerant of your clinginess, so much so that you almost thought he enjoyed the attention more than you did. But that wasn’t anything he’d ever admit to, were it true to begin with.

You ambled across the open-plan apartment towards his smoke-enveloped figure, and upon reaching the table, you pulled out the chair opposite him to take up his company. All the while, Ben’s attention remained fixed on his concoctions, never once straying from the table to acknowledge that you’d joined him.

“Why would I need to know how to do any of this, anyway? You know I don’t smoke,” you asked once you sat yourself down, hand swivelling through the air to disperse the suffocating haze of the weed, lingering under your nose like an intoxicating fart. You watched his free hand sort the dried and shredded weed into evenly-sized piles with one of your ancient loyalty cards—a card you’d lost a few weeks back. The bastard must’ve nicked it from your purse. And knowing him, he’d probably used it for plenty more than sorting weed.

“No,” he agreed, “but I do. Besides, it’s somethin’ every fine woman such as yourself oughta know. It’s not usually what women waste their time learnin’, but I’m sure I could have ya mastering this shit in no time. You’re a surprisingly quick learner,” he murmured busily, pausing only to secure the blunt between his lips once more.

You didn’t know whether to feel offended at that observation, or to accept it with the knowledge that Ben didn’t usually hand out compliments—even backhanded ones—outside of, well, being inside of you. You dismissed the thought with a flick of your eyes, but soon, you were drawn to his face once more. You could have grown jealous with the amount of time his lips spent wrapped around that paper-wrapped crap, but you’d long since laid off the visuals. He enjoyed your pouting way too much—always finding a way to ridicule you for it.

“Why the sudden insistence that I learn this crap?” You asked.

After a deep pull, Ben retrohaled the smoke off to the side, conscious not to direct it onto your intolerant senses. “Cause it sure hits the spot when your girl can slip you a win after the day’s been a fuckin’ ball-buster,” he mumbled.

“Or,” you countered, head tilting with a pretence of consideration as you watched him sort the piles of weed into small plastic bags. “Here’s a thought—and just humour me, would you? You could make yourself one,” you finished, hands coming forward to fold onto the table as your eyes flickered up to Ben expectantly.

He lifted his head to fix you with peeved eyes, the card’s rim stilling against the last herded pile of weed as his free hand plucked the stick from his lips. “The hell you think I been doin’ all this time?” He challenged pointedly. The blunt’s ignited end pulsed with heat—as if to emphasise his words. “Is it too much to ask that you fix me a goddamn escape after a long fuckin’ day?”

“It is in that tone, Mister,” you scoffed, leaning yourself across the table in an attempt to pluck the blunt from his fingers, but he was quick to catch you at the wrist. Your lip quirked at the force with which he restrained you, your eyes slurring up to his with a heavy, seductive whisk of your lashes.

Ben always caught the intention behind your every act of defiance. He enjoyed it, even, despite the permanent hint of dour in his expression. “Hands off my shit,” he warned, his pretty green eyes drilling into yours to emphasise his point. “Don’t make me fuck the nerve right outta you—you know better.”

You took your lower lip into an amused bite, enjoying the way you so easily seemed to rile him up. Yeah, your boyfriend was a Supe, but it was moments like this that made you feel like you held all the power—and you revelled in it. ‘Nobody controls me’, your ass. You had Ben wrapped around your finger. He knew it, too, he just wouldn’t admit it because what man wants to admit that he’s pussy-whipped? No, he’d rather bathe in denial by fucking you senseless each night, smothering your head into the sheets and coaxing his name from your foul lips so that he felt he had some semblance of control over the way you made him feel.

You succumbed to his possessive grasp, leaning your body further across the table as your head tilted in cheek. “Do I know better?” You absolutely did, and so did he. But part of the fun—part of what made this dynamic between the two of you so riveting, is that you pretended to act stupid, and Ben eagerly indulged it as an opportunity to condescend you and further inflate his toxic ego. And something more.

The supe’s lip quirked in amusement as he glared you down, but the sentiment didn’t reach high enough to mould his eyes into kindness. “Gonna play it like that, hm?” he murmured, bringing the blunt back to his lips before he leaned further into your proximity, his lips brushing against yours with the tease of a kiss. But he didn’t follow through with his unspoken promise. Instead, his lips parted only to huff the smoke directly into your face.

Your nose scrunched at the scent, your free hand lifting from the table to shoo away the smoke. “Ben!” You protested, but his grip on you didn’t budge until the intrusive fog thinned out into the rest of the room. You gave a light cough at being a forced second party to his smoking, and that’s when he finally released your wrist—more like discarded it in a careless toss. You retreated with a huff and sat yourself back down. “Dick!”

“Pussy,” he retorted through a shit-eating smirk, but he quickly came to realise that the amusement was wholly one-sided when he glimpsed your ruffled brows. There were very few times you could have convinced him that his actions weren’t funny. “Ah, come on,” he drawled, attention lowering back to the weed as he suckled on the smoking stick once more. “You know ya love it,” he mumbled.

“Oh, bite me,” you murmured lightly, crossing your arms as you watched him continue his work. You could have chosen to pout a little longer, but you’d have been naive to settle down with somebody like Ben and not expect him to pull a nasty stunt now and again. Besides, you did like him mean. The subtle glow that beamed briefly within the crook of your thighs was testament to that.

“You ever roll a blunt before?” Ben muttered, eyes downturned to where his hands began prepping an irregularly squared piece of paper. The question was sheer stupidity—so much so that you felt the the weight of the frown on your brows as you parted your lips to answer him with far too much eager spunk. But Ben pulled the cancer stick from his lips and interjected without missing a breath.

“Just pullin’ your leg—‘course ya haven’t. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the fuckin’ Mother Reverend of the Church of Holy Smokes.” At that jab, his eyes lifted to yours with a smugness that wound his lips thin.

You gave a dismissive roll of your eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” you hummed, your arms unfolding to rest your hands against the table. “You can keep shitting on me, Benjamin, but let’s not forget just how ancient you are. Once your light’s snuffed out, old man, maybe—just maybe, I’ll consider learning how to smoke, and it’ll be your ashes I probe in that damn ashtray.” Oh, how the roles would reverse.

Ben neglected the piece of paper he’d been gripping and straightened himself from the table. He leaned back into his chair with a gruff chuckle, his gaze raking you over with a light air of amusement. He plucked the blunt from his lips and hovered over the table as he gave a compliant cock of his head—a gesture that said, yeah, I could get behind that.

“Just make sure you put the tray somewhere I can get a good view of your ass,” he retorted with a brisk wink before he pressed the cigar’s inflamed nose into the ashtray loitering beside his hand. “And the tray better not be this ugly fuckin’ thing. Get me somethin’. . . quaint—none o’ this modern day lifeless shit and a half that’s got fuckin’ pussy power or some ball-less, feministic propo shit like that scribbled on the side.”

You narrowed your eyes mischievously. “Only you will demand everything your way even in death,” you chuckled, then you tilted your head inquisitively. “So you’re telling me that if I had to get my breasts casted with clay to make two matching bowls for your ashes, you’d have a problem with that? Is it too modern for you?”

Ben’s brows hoisted up a look of consideration, then his lips pursed with content acceptance. “Baby,” he drawled. “You do that and I’ll be back to fuck you in your dreams every. goddamn. night,” he promised.

“I guess that might help me not to forget you,” you retorted cheekily.

“Damn right,” he mumbled cockily. “Can’t forget a dick as givin’ as this one, anyway—and you’d be kiddin’ yourself otherwise. Little cock-slut like you? You were made to memorise every inch of my dick like a butt-print in a shitty velvet sofa.” He birthed a grin so condescending that it barely left room for you to breathe.

Smug, obscene asshole, you scoffed silently, but you couldn’t deny the truth behind his claim, and you had countless memories to serve as evidence. Ben knew that—it was the singular thing that warranted his sheer audacity to boast. For lack of better words, you flashed him the finger before bundling yourself back up, arms crossed against your chest as a ruffled gesture for him to continue his little project.

He made an amused noise halfway between a grunt and a chuckle before shifting in his seat and guiding his hands back to the concoction before him. “C‘mon, take a look,” he urged, plucking up some of the shredded weed between his fingers and gingerly placing it onto the squared paper. He took a moment to prod along the scattered herbs until a coherent line was formed atop the material. “This right here,” he said, prodding the paper, “s’called rollin’ paper. Gotta wrap it around the weed real nice and tight, like the foreskin of a sexually-abstained father of the church. Or some creakin’, ol’ geezer.”

“So like you, then?” You interjected, and you could’ve sworn you heard the snap of his neck as his eyes darted up to scorn you.

“Callin’ me old when you’re the one who can’t walk after one night in my bed is a li’l comical, don’tcha think?” He retorted, eyes lowering to where he rolled his thumb along the ball of his index finger to dislodge the clinging weed scraps. “Man,” he laughed in disbelief. “You got helluva mouth on ya.”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s called?” You chirped sarcastically, rubbing your lips together as though smearing some chapstick along the edges. You knew it was a stupid, bratty punch to throw, but you thought it worth it if it would coax any sort of reaction from Ben—and it did.

He glanced up at you from beneath hitched brows, pushing out a chuckle so forced, it could’ve starred the backtrack of some poorly made sitcom. But the faux amusement in his expression was dropped in an instant, his chin making an impatient jut in your direction—like the firm finger of a mother’s chide. “Shut the fuck up and pay attention.”

Your eyes widened in mock as you muttered a “yes, sir,” and turned your attention back to the table, your heading craning with far too much curiosity for your liking. Your eyes trailed every whisk and wander of his skilled fingers as he prepped another paper like the last. “Does it matter how much weed’s in a single blunt?”

Cautiously, Ben moved back to the first paper, his lips subconsciously jutting into a focused pout. It was something he did often without a notice, and you couldn’t help but savour the scene with a subtle grin. It was adorable, but for the sake of preserving the clueless tradition, you never said anything about it. You knew he’d find some way to get butt-hurt over you pointing it out, and then you’d be stuck with him forging some permanent, stoic expression to fend off the horrors of being called adorable.

He anchored the topmost corners of the rolling paper with his middle fingers before grabbing the bottom corners between his thumb and index finger, finally folding the square in half. “‘Bout a gram or two’ll do,” he finally replied. “But the paper’s already sized, so it’s just gotta be enough to fit in it. . .” he murmured busily, trailing off as he focused his attention onto carefully lifting the assembly from the table—determined not to spill any of the contents and further rob himself of the stock he’d been sold short on.

“Now,” Ben cleared his throat with utmost enthusiasm, his eyes momentarily lingering on the wrap before they flickered over to you with a scheme glinting in their green depths. Just what the hell was he up to now? “We gotta wet this baby real good, so why don’tcha stick out that tongue o’ yours for me, yeah? Lend an old man a helpin’ hand once in a while.”

He held the makeshift blunt tenderly between his thumbs and index fingers as he presented it in your direction with an annoyingly smug furnish to his handsome features.

Your eyes widened in surprise at his request. “You do it,” you told him through a chuckle, pressing your index finger against his nearest hand to gently nudge the dissembled blunt back in his direction. “You’re the pro of the fucking cancer sticks, so you show me how it’s done. Like you said.”

Ben cocked his head in slight disappointment, a smirk pitching up the corner of his lips as he withdrew the blunt with a light huff. “To think you’re usually all I can do it myself, Ben, I don’t need your help, Ben,” he mocked deeply, which caused your face to contort with a hint of offence.

“I don’t sound like th—“

“Yeah, you do,” he cut you short, the smirk on his lips playing into a full-blown grin as he drank in your affronted pout. “You and your fuckin’ feminist high,” he scoffed, bringing the paper up to his lips. “Now, stuff it and watch, ‘cause I’m only gonna show you once—and I expect ya to nail it off the fuckin’ bat.”

You hitched a brow at his subtle threat. “Or what?” You challenged.

He left that question unanswered—verbally, at least. But he fixed you with an intense glare as his tongue slipped past his lips to drag a slow, accentuated line along the edge of the paper, and you knew that to be answer enough. A promise—and hardly one of a good time when he was calling all the shots with the intent to punish you. Still, you felt your core jolt at that singular gesture, your thighs discreetly pressing together with the memory of that very movement that must’ve become etched into your folds by now. That teasing bastard, getting you all hot and bothered just for the sake of it.

When he reached the end of the jagged material, he drew the line back up one more time before his tongue retreated back to the concealment behind his lips. He lowered the concoction to the table, gaze still trained on you. Then, with a beckoning gesture of his chin, he said, “get over here.”

You obliged silently, quickly—guided by your arousal more than your own will, if you were being honest. Your chair screeched in protest as you pushed yourself up from your seat and slipped around the circumference of the table towards Ben’s seated frame. You’d barely reached his side when he freed a hand to eagerly outstretch and receive you, his large palm snaking along the small of your back to hook around your waist. He pulled you into his lap, legs spread in a wide v to comfortably accommodate your frame onto his.

As you settled yourself onto his lap, you made a point to dramatically shimmy your ass into the crook of his legs, causing him to grunt as you ground yourself against his prominent manhood. His free hand snaked over your thigh to settle at the tender, inner skin with a warning squeeze, his lips coming to press against your ear.

“Careful, baby,” he murmured lowly—a gruff sound that sent a jolt directly to your already-compromised core. And it was hard to ignore your arousal with the added stimulation of his stubbled jaw grating the sensitive skin of your cheek.

You turned your jaw partially, causing his soft lips to trace a seductive line along your cheekbone. “Always am,” you murmured in return, a cheeky grin beaming through as your gaze flickered down to his lips. Those darn lips. A taste you’d never get sick of, despite your tendency to grow bored of things rather quickly. Maybe you were no better than Ben—a shameless addict infatuated with the highs, only, your highs were being fondled by him.

For a moment, Ben entertained your play with a second of silence, and you were almost hopeful to feel his lips snag onto yours, but instead, they retreated from your jaw and left you in a state of hot disappointment.

“Pay attention,” he ordered, removing the hand he’d burrowed at your thigh to frame your jaw firmly. He turned your head forward and downwards, forcing your attention onto the makeshift blunt gripped in his other hand. His thumb trailed to your lips, kneading the tender skin aimlessly before slipping his hand from your jaw entirely. “Stick your tongue out.”

Obediently, you did as told, your tongue slipping through until you felt too ridiculous to go further.

“Atta girl,” he praised, your waist now straddled by both his arms as he held the corners of the makeshift blunt in his fingers and lifted it to your dangling tongue. “Now, I want you to lick it, just like I showed ya—and don’t crap out on showin’ it a good time, yeah?”

You gave a small nod and leaned your head down to meet the paper with your tongue, starting at the left corner. When the tip of your tongue made contact with the sheet, you could feel the cool, lingering trace of Ben’s saliva. It felt so primal, but you knew that he was enjoying every second of it—you lapping up his taste like an eager mutt, so you decided to give him one hell of a show.

You pressed your tongue against the paper more firmly now, and you began to drag a slow, sensual line toward the other corner, making sure to deliver a quick flick over Ben’s waiting thumbnail. He made a hald-amused, half-entertained noise, but waited patiently as you retraced the line back to the starting point.

Pulling back your tongue, you smacked your lips triumphantly. “All wet now,” you said.

“Bet you are,” he chuckled lazily, fingers moving to seal the paper and twist the ends into a reputable blunt. He brought the finished product up to your lips, urging the nozzle between them. “Be a good girl and hold onto that for me.”

You pulled your lips inward to deny the entrance of the blunt, turning your jaw to reject the offer. “No, thanks,” you said, but Ben wasn’t having it.

You felt his hand stroke up the curve of your thigh before forcing way beneath the hem of your shorts and underwear, where his fingers stroked a rough line through your folds. You gasped at the feel of his cool fingers playing at your hot core, and before you could process his foul play, his other hand was quick to push the fresh blunt between your parted lips.

“You talk too fuckin’ much,” he murmured against your ear, delivering a harsh squeeze to your clit. Your lips tightened around the blunt and you moaned into the smoking stick, eyes screwing shut as your head collapsed back into the crook of his neck. He pressed a hasty kiss to your temple, and you knew that it was more of a branding than a gesture of adoration. You were his to cherish, exploit and discard, all at once.

“What, you gonna tell me you didn’t see that comin’?” he chuckled lowly, the mocking sound vibrating against the crown of your head. “Been actin’ the brat this entire time, just hopin’ I’ll shut you the fuck up, huh? Yeah, I heard ya—loud and clear, baby.”

Your lips tightened around the blunt as Ben brutalised the pace of his fingers between your folds, vigorously toying with your clit like it were the worn strings of the guitar he couldn’t seem to master the tuning of. Your lips tightened around the blunt as his finger prodded at just the right spot, an explosion of pleasure slinging your thighs into a weakened and sprawled mess. All control over your body seemed to retreat as you slumped further into his strong frame, which cocooned you like it were your last hope at survival. Oh, you were done for, all right.

“You like that, huh?” Ben cooed into your ear, his free hand sliding beneath your tank to grab ahold of your breasts. He palmed both in a rough, careless motion, then settled on one with a teasing pinch to your nipple. The combined stimulation of his toying at both ends rendered you so speechless that you couldn’t even salvage a coherent moan, so you laid there in complete arrest, succumbing fully to your boyfriend’s mean ministrations. “What, nothin’ to say now? Not even a fuckin’ please or thank you? I know chivalry died when I was buried on ice, but I didn’t think the women had lost their manners, too.”

In all honesty, you could barely comprehend your boyfriend’s words through your numbed haze. Your vision slurred into darkness as your eyes fluttered closed, your saliva beginning to seep into the blunt’s contents as your lips clutched it like a lifeline. Ben released your breast, but the weaving of his fingers down below didn’t stutter. You felt his free fingers graze both your temples in sequence, where his knuckle pushed back the foremost strands of hair that had slipped the keep of your ears. Your heart fluttered an inch at what you thought to be an intimate gesture—which he gifted very few and far between. But knowing the type of man Ben was should have clipped your wings of hope and had you grounded from the get-go.

Suddenly, his hand trailed through your hair and fastened through as many strands as he could collect. Then, with a smooth roll of his wrist, he twined it into a harsh grip, your neck arching at an angle you couldn’t have achieved out of free-will. A weak protest slurred within your throat, which made Ben utter a sound half way between a low laugh and a scoff—the sound so demeaning it flushed your cheeks red. His exploitation hurt—but at the same time, it felt so good, so much so that your body did anything but pull away from his touch.

“Now this is a view I can get behind—you, all pretty and practically fallin’ apart on my fingers,” Ben murmured, his head lowering to your ear so that the sharp button of his nose nuzzled at your temple. “Fuck, I could take you right here, right now,” he continued sultrily. “You want that, sweetheart? Want me to give you exactly what you’ve been cravin’ all fuckin’ day? All you gotta do is ask. Nicely, you know, stroke my cock with your good-doer attitude. That achievable for a brat like you, hm?”

For all the questions asked, you couldn’t offer one damn answer—not with your lips plugged by Ben’s newest fix. You moved a hand to reach for the blunt, eager to pave way for the word that would lay your urges to rest for the night, but the hand he’d buried between your legs were quick to come up and seize your wrist in disapproval. A hot, disgruntled tut from Ben streamlined your ear, but all you could focus on was the sudden barrenness between your legs, a cold neglect left in the wake of his hand.

You weren’t afforded the opportunity to mourn that loss for long before he had both your palms pinned flat onto the table in front of you, the hand in your hair tugging further so that your upper body became suspended within a ruthless game of tug and war. Only, the two contestants—both his hands—were playing for the same team. Ben’s. The advantage was far from yours.

“Dirty stunt,” he hummed almost admirably, his nose tracing your jaw to place a single, devouring kiss over the arch of your neck. You felt the way his lips lapped at your skin in a large motion, like he craved to garner every inch of you in that single touch. He solidified that point with a harsh nibble, the sort that would pucker your skin for a good few minutes, before he brought himself back to your ear. “You don’t get to use your words for this, baby. Your right to an opinion has been worn out for the day, and quite frankly, I’ve had enough of all your fuckin’ chitchat. You wanna get fucked, you’re gonna show me just how much y’want it,” he husked with a dramatic pause, then added in a low murmur, “with your body. Got that?”

With your head practically immobilised by his grip, you echoed a muffled mhm. Your response seemed to be satisfactory enough because he relented his hold—just enough to relieve your pipes so that breathing came with a little more ease.

“Atta girl. It’s gets my dick salutin’ when you’re all obedient,” he praised. His claim was firmly backed by the bulge you felt growing beneath you. It pressed between your thighs like a brash beckoning, and it was enough to cause all the heat that had dissipated between your folds to re-emerge in full force. “Well? The hell you waitin’ for?” He asked in a tone a lot louder—and firmer—this time around.

You pushed out a clueless noise, which made Ben shift a thigh beneath you. Suddenly, the bulk of his leg was hoisted up between your own, the blunt force striking your core at just the right angle that sent a jolt up your body. You gasped a breathless sound into the blunt, your teeth burrowing into the softening paper, and your eyes screwed shut with the pleasure currently coursing your entire being.

“Get that body o’ yours movin’, or we can call it a disappointin’ night,” he instructed. God, you couldn’t come up short after all you’d endured thus far, so instinctually, your hips began to roll against his thigh at a jagged pace, seeking out the only stimulation you could manage in your stilted position. “Yeah, that’s it,” he cooed. “All yours for the takin’, if you’ll hold out long enough to see fuckin’ rainbows. A lot like bein’ on a high, ain’t it? Got my own li’l addict in the makin’.”

He was right. Actually, you thought this felt a whole lot greater than sniffing a line that would simultaneously have you losing your sanity for a few hours. Desperate whimpers began to stew in your chest, polished with so much passion that the sounds felt saturated, almost animated. And Ben, he was devouring every second of it. You couldn’t glimpse enough of his face to say that, but going off of everything you knew about him, and how mean he liked to get with you, you absolutely knew that you were something akin to his own personal heaven right about now. Oh, he’d forsake every personal belief to follow the religion that was you—your undoing.

Almost as though your body had grown frustrated with all the prolonged teasing, your high came on at a rapid pace that made you chest heave in desperation. You felt the arousal bundle into a tightly-knit ball, just yearning to be yanked at by the singular thread that would make it come undone. But the satisfaction was plucked out of reach within seconds when Ben released the grip on your hair to grab at your thigh, forcing your hips to still against his leg. And just like that, the fire within was snuffed out.

Your lips fell loose in exhaustion, the blunt you’d been so loyal to finally making an escape and toppling into your lap. “Ben,” you pushed out frailly, the disappointment heavy on your brows.

“The nerve o’ you,” Ben scoffed, utterly dismissive of your feeble protest. He released your thigh to dip into your lap, and shortly after, he pulled up with the blunt in clutch, wasting no time in pressing it back between your lips. You fumbled with the paper for a few seconds before you finally took it in, but you knew your boyfriend would have something to show for your disobedience. “Yeah, you are a brat,” he said, the hand pinning your wrists suddenly tightening as he pulled your arms to one side, his other hand hooking around your inner thigh.

In one large and effortless motion, he managed to sling you over his lap, releasing your wrists so that you were able to grasp the legs of his chair for support. You clutched the blunt between your lips a little tighter, fighting the villainous pull of gravity, and stifled a moan at the sudden spank that struck the curves of your ass. The aftermath of that contact had your body contracted with a mixture of shock and painful arousal, air blowing from your nostrils like harsh gusts.

“Fuckin’ quiverin’ already?” He chuckled, his large palm smoothing up the fabric of your shorts until you felt every inch of your ass dimple under the cool air of the room. You felt utterly exposed. “Baby, I’m just gettin’ started with you.”

Oh, you were so fucked.

His palm came down for another assault, this time louder than the last. The raw contact echoed through the apartment, narcissistically suffocating the whimper that rattled your chest. Tears began to hoard along the rims of your eyes, but you blinked enough to scatter the moisture. You didn’t need to give him another kick out of this—some lingering stubbornness wouldn’t allow it.

“Fuck, all that noise o’ yours is makin’ me lose count,” Ben scoffed. He rubbed soothing circles over your aching skin, which no doubt glowered an angry red that should have made your boyfriend feel some ounce of sympathy. But then the next words left his mouth, and you knew then that the Supe had no concept of remorse. “Guess I gotta start right at the beginning.”

You braved yourself against the rest of his spanks, your legs drawing together more and more with each touch—not from a place of pain, but from hot, embarrassing enjoyment. The slick within your folds was hard to ignore now, and it seemed to have snagged Ben’s attention because he let up on the harsh punishment, his fingers finding way beneath your shorts and drenched undies. You felt his fingers play at your slick, dragging a line all the way down to your yearning entrance.

“It’s a damn oil slick up in here,” he chuckled, his thumb teasing circles at your hypersensitive clit. “Whaddya say I give her some love, hm?” His finger dipped an inch into your entrance, as if offering a measly taste of his proposal. You rocked your hips back into him as a reply, urgently seeking out the length of his fingers. He gave a low chuckle, and to your shock, actually indulged your plea. Maybe it was your reward for finally playing by his rules.

You weren’t going to fucking question it.

Your back arched by instinct as you felt his fingers prowl into your entrance, your hands clutching the wooden legs of his chair as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The full force of multiple of his fingers should have coaxed forward some fleeting sense of pain, but you’d been so incredibly aroused for so incredibly long that your entrance welcomed him in like an open-house party. He pumped into you as deep as he could, an appreciative grunt leaving his lips as he revelled in your velvety warmth. His other hand came to wrap around the front of your neck, offering some much needed support as your strength began to collapse with each pump of his fingers.

Your whimpers became more frequent and dishevelled as he picked up the pace, his fingers curling at just the right angle. Every. Fucking. Time. Ben knew how to do the job well—a tactic that had you coming back time and time again, begging for more.

“That’s it, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he husked out, his own voice slightly abraded by exertion. The subtle breathlessness woven through his words spurred you on even further, making you feel some type of special with the knowledge that he was giving you his all. Just to see you break. Just so that he could put you back together with cherishing kisses.

It only took a few more pumps of his fingers to have your eyes clenching in wait, your lips throttling the blunt as his fingers curled right into your blooming bundle of pleasure. And then he struck it head on, causing an explosion of colour to invade your vision. For a few seconds, you couldn’t comprehend anything beyond your own ragged breaths, your ears ringing with the overwhelming aftermath of your high. You felt your juices trickle from your entrance, and you heard the squelching as Ben slowly retreated from your entrance.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he chuckled with a minuscule, congratulatory pat to your ass. “That was one o’ your best runs yet. Think ya can handle one more round?” Ben murmured, releasing your neck to rub a soothing line down your back. You didn’t honestly think you could, and you felt the way every inch of your body ached in an answering protest, but something else tugged your chin into that subtle permission, and then the Supe had you hoisted up in his arms bridal style as he carried you to the bed.

He laid you onto the mattress rather gently, but the caution was instantly discarded as he flipped you over and tugged your hips sky-high. His fingers hooked under the hem of your shorts and undies, and he couldn’t have yanked them over the curves of your ass at a faster pace. Your garments were tossed to some other corner of the room, followed by the rustle of fabric as Ben freed his stoic erection. You heard him huff a breath of relief, and you glanced over your shoulder in time to see him whisk across his shaft with a hasty pump.

You met his eye patiently, making a point to pout around the blunt so that he couldn’t miss the visual image of your dedication to this wretched thing. It made him smirk with satisfaction, a hand coming forward to hook around your pelvis and tug you back an inch. You grunted at the rough yank, turning your head forward as you settled yourself into your folded arms. You felt his tip nestle between your ass before dipping down to glide with ease into your slicked entrance. Both his hands took up firm grip at your pelvis, his large palms fanning across your navel as he pummelled into you with a guttural noise.

“Fuck,” he spat, his length retreating only to return with a force more brutal than a last. His hands shifted across your ass, delivering a hard spank before they slunk up to the small of your back. There, he pushed your stomach into the mattress, and you burrowed further into the material with every possessive thrust of his hips. “You’re just the fuckin’ release I needed after this shitty day—and god, you never disappoint,” he breathed out.

You whimpered in response, pressing your forehead into the sheets as your fingers curled into the bedding. God, this man was overstimulating—he seemed to forget that your frail body was no match for his super-abled one. Or, he simply revelled in that fact. Either way, you were done for.

The blunt’s body quirked against your lips as you practically smothered it against the mattress, but you could hardly be arsed about that now. Ben’s figure came to hover over you, his clothed chest pressing into your back. His hands came up beside your head, frantically searching for yours, and once he found them, his fingers threaded between yours. He held you firmly as he spread your hands out in front of you, trapping you below him as he continued to drive you into the bed. The worn bed frame was creaking so loud that it was almost absurd, and you half expected one of the neighbours to blare a shut the hell up from the top of their lungs. But the only noises to be heard were the gruff moans spewing from Ben’s lips, and your own muffled whining.

The mattress wasn’t anything as fancy as memory foam, but you were sure that by now—with how brutalised Ben’s pace within you was—that the mattress would never forget. You supposed you both had that in common.

──────────────────────

a/n — i’m not gonna lie, i was starting to think this piece would NEVER see the light of day good gawd i think i have commitment issues. anyhoo, if you are a pro at making blunts, mind your business! 😭 i did a quick google search and rolled with it (pun unintended), so if something’s inaccurate you can blame google pls and ty LMAO. i’m just a non smoker girly trying to bring the drug-addled fantasies of loving soldier boy to life, as best as i possibly and very limitedly can. if this fic traumatised you im sorry (also you’re welcome). y’all know the drill, it’s 2 am—if there are typos; no there’s not.

this fic now has a complementary c.ai bot .ᐟ

thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

tags — @gibson-g1rl @fallbhind @bohemianblasphemy @figthoughts

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other works — the boys masterlist

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layce2015 · 1 year ago

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The Boys (Soldier Boy x Female!Supe!Reader)

Chapter 2: The Only Man In The Sky

Chapter 1/ Next Chapter

"You sure you wanna go see her?" Bethany asked me after I called her on the phone the next day. "Not really but...it must be important if she's contacting me." I said. "I'm not sure if I like it." Bethany said and I giggled. "I'll be okay, Mom." I laughed, sarcastically. "Hey, I know you can handle yourself but...I still worry." Bethany said. "I appreciate it." I said as I pace along the living room.

*3rd Person POV*

M.M. hears a knocking at his door and he goes to answer it. He opens it and sees Butcher standing there, his hands behind his back, and he lets out a sigh. “All right, mate?” Butcher asked him and Janine, M.M.’s daughter comes up next to her father. “Bloody hell, Janine. You shot up. You remember your Uncle Billy, don't you?” He asked and the girl stares at him before nodding, slightly.

”Here. I got this for you.” Butcher said as he pulls out a box of a Lego set of Vought tower. “You and your dad can build it together. 523 pieces of family fun.” Butcher said and M.M. glares at him.

Later, Janine starts on working on the Lego set while Butcher and M.M. talk. “Okay, one, you don't just pop up here. You call first. And, two, eff Soldier Boy. I don't give a mothereffin' doo-doo how he checked out.” M.M. argued. “Ah, bollocks. He didn't die like no hero. I'll wager he went out on his knees, begging like a right cսոt.” Butcher said. “What the f...” M.M. grumbles then he exhales a she gesture to his daughter, who heard them. “Sorry, love.” Butcher tells her then he continues to talk, quietly.

”Look, if there's a weapon out there that killed Soldier Boy, then it can kill Homelander. And that's got to be worth something. Now, we're working our way through his old team. Frenchie and Kimiko are starting with the Crimson Countess, and I'm gonna hit up Gunpowder and Mystic Shade.” Butcher said. “Sounds like you got everything covered.” M.M. said. “This ain't just anyone. It's Soldier Boy. You could close the book on him once and for all. For your dad. Your family.” Butcher said.

”Fuck off with that shit.” M.M. growls then he starts to breath, heavily, before he continues. “My father died hunched over a desk, obsessing over a dead man, while he was ignoring his two living children. And I almost did the same thing to her.” M.M. said as he gestures to his daughter and Butcher looks over at her then back at his old friend.

”Thanks for coming by.” M.M. said and Butcher sighs. “You're doing a bang-up job with her, mate.” Butcher said and he goes to leave but then M.M. sighs. “Butcher, hold on a second. I might have one thing.” He said then he goes to his room and into his closet and pulls out a file that his father had on Soldier Boy.

Meanwhile, (y/n) and Bethany enter Voughtland and see all the kids running around, laughing and screaming, as their parents try to keep up with them or buy them the overpriced food and merchandise. “It’s crazy here.” Bethany said as her and (y/n), who was wearing jeans and a hoodie with the hood up, walk along the park. “Yeah, Vought has gone more chaotic with The Seven than they did with Payback.” (Y/n) mutters as they walk.

“You jealous?” Bethany asked her and (y/n) scoffs. “Fuck no.” She said and Bethany laughs as they go to the theater, where there was a poster that advertised the showing of Soldier Boy’s life. (Y/n) stops and stares at it as a memory pops up in her head.

Flashback

*(y/n)’s POV*

It had been months since Ben and I were sent overseas with the army to help out what we could. But we also did some film and photography for Vought as they brought a filmmaker and a photographer to get us to recreate certain moments of the war. And in between those moments or fights, Ben and I got to know each other a bit better. He was a bit cocky and full of himself and a bit rude but…he had this charm about him that I was attracted to.

And now the war was finally over and all the surviving troops were celebrating as was everyone around the world. Ben and I were sitting at the busy bar as the troops were cheering, laughing, singing and talking loudly as they all drink copious amount of beer.

I smiled at the scene, feeling relieved that this mess was all behind us. But I was also feeling dread as that meant I had to go back to my bastard of a husband. “You good?” Ben’s voice asked and I shake myself out of my thoughts and look over at him. “Yeah…just…” I laugh a bit softly. “Just still surprised that it is over.”

“You don’t sound very thrilled about it.” Ben points out. “No, I’m happy it’s over. I just…” I then trail off. “You don’t want to go back home?” Ben asked me and I sighed. “Is it that obvious?” I asked him. “Yeah…” he said and I turn my head to look at him. “You know, we’ve been getting to know each other these last few months and you still haven’t told me about…Adam, was it?” Ben asked and I sighed as I take another long sip of my beer.

”Well, I’m sure you know my backstory is a load of garbage. I wasn’t born with these powers…they were forced upon me.” I explained as Ben listens to me. “My darling husband…” I sneered before I continued. “…he faked a doctor’s appointment for me when really it was for me to get a shot of Compound V and get these powers.”

Ben’s eyes widen at this then it furrows in anger. “He what?” He asked me and I scoff out a small laugh at this. “Yeah, right ol’ bastard. I wanted to divorce him when I found out but…” I stopped then take another drink. “He basically told me I couldn’t do that, be it would ruin my career before it even began.” I added and Ben did look angry after I explained.

”That son of a bitch. I should go have a word with him when we get back.” Ben said and I place a hand on his arm. “No, don’t.” I plead to him. “Why?” He asked me. “I’ve seen what happens when you have a word with people. It would just make everything worse. Besides, I don’t want to put you in any trouble.” I said and Ben raise an eyebrow at me.

“Look, let’s just enjoy this night and not worry about my failing marriage.” I said and he gives me this look then sighs. “Fine.” He mutters as he takes a sip of his beer. The rest of the night went uneventful as we enjoyed the party until it was time to get ready to head back home.

But once we got home and saw the press just swarming the airport to mainly get to me and Ben, Ben did something I was not expecting. Once we got off the plane, we waved at the press as they took many pictures and the people from the news report came out to film us. Then Ben turns to me, takes my chin to make me look at him then kissed me right there in front of God and everyone.

I hear the crowd go absolutely crazy but I was too stunned and shocked at what just happened and what is happening. And the terrible thing is I didn’t want it to end, this was honestly the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life. And even though there was a part of my mind that was screaming at me to tell Ben to stop, to push him away, I couldn’t bring myself to do that.

So, I kissed him back and I could tell that is what he wanted me to do as I feel his lips curl up into a smile as we continued to kiss. Moments later, we break the kiss and I felt breathless once his lips were away from mine and I raise my eyes to look at him and he gives me that damn flirty grin I’ve come to like so much.

”Maybe that’ll help with your little problem.” He mutters to me before he winks then turns to the crowd as he puts an arm around my shoulders and waves at them. I stood there and I’m sure I just looked mystified and confused because my mind was running for miles as I realized what he just did.

And I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“What the hell is this?!” Adam asked me as he holds up the paper the next morning. “What’s what?” I asked him. I was sitting at the table in the little kitchen area of my room at Vought Tower and Adam just came in after going out to get the paper. He slams the paper down on the table in front of me and the first thing I saw was a photo of me and Ben kissing. And the title reading: America’s Newest Sweethearts?

”How long?” Adam asked me, angrily. “How long what?” I asked him. “Don’t play dumb! Now, tell me the truth, how long have you been fucking him behind my back?!” Adam asked me and I stare at him, stunned. “Are you crazy?! I mean, is that what you actually think of me?!” I asked him then he slams his hands on the table again.

”I’ve seen the way you look at him! And I know you’re still angry with me for what I did but I never thought you’d go this low!” He yells. “Because I wouldn’t! That kiss was something Ben came up all on his own. I didn’t expect it!” I argued. “And yet, from what I heard, you didn’t reject it!” Adam shouted and I glared at him.

“It’s just a publicity stunt! To make the people go crazy, okay! It’s for the money, get over it!” I spat at him and he looks at me surprised. “Are you serious?” He asked me. “What? I thought this was what you wanted. Me being a Supe to make money for us. You know how Vought works. They’ll do anything to gain the public’s approval.” I sneered and he huffs at me.

Then he turns and starts to walk out. “Where the hell you going?” I asked him. “Out.” Adam growls as he slams the door and I scoff.

*3rd Person POV*

Ben was walking towards his room in Vought Tower, seething with anger. He had just been to see his father and showed off him being the hero. But he didn’t get the hero’s welcome he expected from his father. His father told him he wasn’t a real man, that he took a shortcut and told him he was a disappointment, probably one of the worst things a father could say to their child.

He heard a door slam but he ignored it as he makes it to the door of his room. He goes to unlock the door when he heard stomping footsteps then a voice calls out to him, in an angry tone. “You!” The voice said and Ben shuts his eyes for a moment, really not in the mood to deal with anyone.

”Look, Buddy…” Ben started to say as he looks over and sees it is Adam that is coming towards him. Adam then grabs him by the collar of his shirt then slams him up against the wall. “You son of a bitch! You think you can take her away from me!” Adam shouts at Ben. “I’m only gonna say this once, cocksucker. If you still want your teeth, then I suggest you let go and back away from me.” Ben threatens, in a low calm voice.

But Adam wasn’t having it. “What gives you the right to kiss (y/n) when you know she’s my wife?!” Adam asked him. “You could have any woman you want, but you go and kiss her! You can’t have (y/n), she’s mine!”

“You know what I think? I think a piece of shit like you doesn’t deserve a woman like (y/n)!” Ben growls as the sound of a door opening was heard. “And you do?!” Adam asked as hurried footsteps come up and Ben grabs Adam’s hands and shoves him towards the other side of the hall.

”Boys, stop!” (Y/n)’s voice shrieks as she gets in between the boys. Ben was about to walk towards Adam, who continued to glare at him, but (y/n) turns to Ben. “Ben, Ben, Ben….hey, hey, look at me…look at me…” she said as Ben death stared at Adam but then he looks over at (y/n).

For some weird reason, just looking at her calmed him down a little as she places her hands on his shoulder. “Ben? Since when were you two on a first name basis?” Adam asked (y/n), upset, and she turns to face him. “What does that matter? Just be grateful I’m not letting him beat you to a pulp right now!” She exclaims as she glares at her husband. The two stare at each other for a few silence moments before Adam sighs.

”You know what, (y/n)? You’re gonna get your wish.” Adam said then he walks off and (y/n) lets out a sigh before she turns to Ben, who is about to enter his room. “Ben, I am so sorry…” she started to say but Ben shakes his head. “I’m not trying to be an asshole but I really don’t want to talk right now, (y/n).” Ben grumbles and he enters his room and shuts the door.

(y/n) frowns at this as her heart felt broken then she makes her way back to her room. She shuts the door and started to burst into tears, letting out the emotions she didn’t know she was holding in. She wipes her eyes then looks over at the cabinet that held some bourbon.

She normally doesn’t drink a lot but the whole bottle of bourbon was sounding good right now. So she goes to the cabinet, grabs the bottle and begins to drink from it.

Present Day

(Y/n) continued to stare at the poster until Bethany comes up to her and places a hand on her arm. “(Y/n)?” She said and (y/n) pulls out of her thoughts and looks over at her friend. “You ready?” She asked and (y/n) sighs. “Not really…but let’s do it.” She said and they head inside the theater as does Frenchie and Kimiko.

They get inside and take a seat and Bethany pats her friend’s shoulder. “You sure you’re gonna be okay seeing this?” She asked (y/n). “I think so.” (Y/n) mutters, unsure. The lights start to dim and the screen comes on as it starts to play the film.

"Soldier Boy grew up in the birthplace of American liberty. Born poor on the mean streets of South Philadelphia, he learned the values of hard work, tenacity and bravery. He used those values to prove America's exceptionalism to the world." The narrator of the film said as it shows various pictures of Soldier Boy's life. Then it shows a clip of Soldier Boy in the trenches with the American soldiers.

"Okay, boys, let's give these Krauts some hell." Soldier Boy said and he leads the men on out into the battlefield. (Y/n) bites her lips as she remembers those days. "He and his partner, Mystic Shade, defended us against the encroaching Red Menace." The narrator said as it goes to another clip and shows Soldier Boy and (y/n) in the Congress, which takes (y/n) by surprise as she sees herself sitting next to Soldier Boy. "Congress, we have a list right here of avowed Communists." He said as he holds up a file.

"He helped guide America into a brighter future, and along the way, he found the love of a good woman..." the narrator said as it shows Soldier Boy and Mystic Shade, their arms around each other and a smile on their faces. (Y/n) lets out a heavy sigh and Bethany turns to her and places an arm around her. She gives her a concerned look but (y/n) nods, assuredly.

"...which made his sacrifice all the more noble, when he gave his life saving us from a nuclear holocaust." The narrator said as it shows a melted down nuclear power plant. Then the screen goes black. "Please join us in saluting Soldier Boy." The narrator said and there was scattered applause.

Then a spotlight comes on and the screen slides up to reveal Crimson Countess walk out onto the stage and begins to sing. “Fuckin’ hell.” (Y/n) grumbles, annoyed.

When the night was dark

And the dawn was cold

From sea to shining sea and mountains' majesty

He did it all For the red, white and the bold

'Cause he's America's son

As she sings, she brings her hands together and uses her power to shootout the red ball of energy she makes. It goes flying over head and the ball of energy explodes and engulfs the room in red light as Countess continues to sing.

A shining beacon of freedom

He's America's son

After the show, Countess was in her dressing room and was crushing up some pills as the door opens. "At your request, Countess." The voice of her manager said and Countess looks up at her mirror and sees the familiar face of her old partner. "Well, well, well, never thought I'd see you here, Misty." Countess said with a smile as (y/n) pulls back her hoodie.

"I mean, you're basically a recluse. Some people even think you're dead." Countess taunts as (y/n) glares at her. "What do you want, Crimson?" She asked as she folds her arms across her chest. Countess turns in her seat to look at her. "Can't I say hi to an old friend?" Countess asked. "You and I are nowhere near close enough to be considered friends." (Y/n) sneered and Countess gives a fake offended look.

"Oh, my dear, Misty...." Countess said, dramatically, and (y/n) rolled her eyes at this. She always hated it when Countess called her this name, it irritated her to no end which she figured that's why Countess does that. "Are you still mad that Ben and I dated?" Countess asked her. "I don't know...you mad that he dumped you to get back together with me?" (Y/n) asked, snarky, and Countess drops the act.

"No, actually. I really don't give a fuck." Countess said as she goes back to her table then starts to inhale some of the crushed up pills she made. "But I will say one good thing about him, he was great in the sack." Countess said and (y/n) rolls her eyes.

"Why the hell am I here, Countess?" (Y/n) asked and Countess turns to her. "Well, seems like that whole Girls Get It Done shit has been a big deal lately. And I figured maybe get us girls back together from the old team." Crimson said and (y/n) glares at her.

"You know, you, me and Tessa. We could show those bitches in The Seven who the real female heroes are." Crimson said and (y/n) shakes her head. "Not just no but fuck no!" (Y/n) said and Crimson was taken aback. "Well, why not? I mean, clearly you're not doing anything! Tessa and Thomas are apparently gonna host Herogasm here in a few days and of course I've had a music career." Crimson said. "And I like it that way. I got out of Payback for a reason, Countess!" (Y/n) shouts.

"Yeah because you were becoming a washed up Supe and Ben isn't around to fuck you senseless like the dirty whore you really are!" Crimson accused and (y/n) snaps as she waves her hand and Crimson goes flying back and hits the wall, hard. (Y/n) starts to breath heavily as she glares daggers at her old partner until she looks down at her hand, which was shaking.

"You can never even begin to THINK what I've been through the last forty years!" (Y/n) growls as she glares at Crimson, who gets up. "Oh boo-hoo, you're boyfriend died and now you live all alone in some farmhouse in Kansas. Get the fuck over yourself, Misty." Crimson sneers. "Fuck you!" (Y/n) spat and the two women continue to glare at each other before (y/n) turns and heads for the door.

"Go fuck a chimp, Crimson." (Y/n) spat and she slams the door behind her, puts her hood up and walks out of the room and down the hall, passing by Frenchie and Kimiko as they get ready for their visit with Crimson Countess.

After dusting herself off of the confrontation, Countess goes to sit by her dressing table and gathers up more pills and crushes them. "Next!" Countess shouts as she goes to snort up the crushed up drugs and exhales as the door opens, Kimiko and Frenchie enter her room. "You seem a little old for the Countess Tea Package." Countess said once she looks up and notices them. "We're young at heart." Frenchie said as Kimiko comes up to Countess and holds up her phone to show her what she typed.

I like your music

"Oh, sweetie. Can't you talk?" Countess asked Kimiko after she read her message. Kimiko shakes her head, shyly, and Countess smiles at her. "Would you like to hear something new?" She asked her and Kimiko nods. "Okay." Countess said and she leads Kimiko to her laptop to bring up a music video while Frenchie is looking around the room.

Chimps don't cry

No, chimps

Don't cry...

"You know that chimps are physically incapable of crying? But that doesn't mean they're not crying on the inside." Countess said, dramatically, and she goes to look at the video while Kimiko turns to Frenchie and begins to sign language to him.

She's nice.

She's nuts!

No, she's not.

Let's get it over with!

Fine.

Kimiko then turns to Countess and grabs her. "Wh-What are you..." Countess shouts when Kimiko slams her up against the wall. "Wh-What are you...Ow!" Countess screams as Kimiko hits her. "Don't let her hands touch!" Frenchie shouts and Kimiko separates Countess' hands. "Ow! Let go of me, you bitch." Countess shouts as Frenchie comes up next to her while Kimiko holds her up against the wall.

"No fireball if your hands don't touch, oui? You stay quiet and relax. She will hurt you." Frenchie tells her. "What do you want?" Countess asked him. "We want to know about Soldier Boy." Frenchie said. "What the fսck do you care about Soldier Boy?" Countess asked, confused. "We want the truth about Soldier Boy, not the merde you've been giving us in your appalling show. How did he die? Who killed him? Talk." Frenchie demands.

"The show is the truth, mοthеrfսckеr." Countess said as there was another knock and the door opens as a kid and her parents come in. "He died a hero." Countess tells them just as they hear the family coming in.

Seizing the opportunity, Countess knocks Kimiko off of her then runs out of the room. Frenchie and Kimiko then chase after her as she runs out of the building and out into the park.

Countess shoves people out of the way then turns around to see Frenchie and Kimiko still gaining up on her. She stops, brings her hands together and shoots her fireball at the duo but they duck and the fireball hits the man in the Homelander costume, making blood and guts explode everywhere.

People and children began to scream but with some of the people near the mascot were protected by a force field. Frenchie and Kimiko jumped back at this as kids and adults scream, cry and run as does Countess.

Frenchie turns around and sees the white hoodie woman again, her arms were stuck out in front of her. They share a look before the woman lowers her arms and runs the opposite direction and it suddenly clicked with him who she was. "Putain de merde! That was Mystic Shade!" Frenchie said as Kimiko looks in time to see the woman run then signs at him.

Should we go after her?

"Butcher said he was gonna deal with her." Frenchie said as he takes her arm and Kimiko looks around to see a few kids still looking frighten and distraught at the man in the Homelander mascot costume, or what was left of him, before she and Frenchie leave the park.

*(y/n)’s POV*

Bethany pulls up to my house as I sigh. “You okay?” She asked me, for what had to be the hundredth time. “Yes, I’m fine. Just…wasn’t expecting any of that.” I said. “It looked like she was attacking those two people. Did you see them?” Bethany asked me and I nod.

“But I don’t know why. That’s what’s bugging me.” I said as I think. “Well, I’ll talk to you later.” I said as I get out of her car. “Okay…” Bethany said as I shut her car door and head into my house.

I entered the house and give a sigh of relief before I head to the kitchen. “You have a lovely house.” A male voice, with a cockney accent, greets and I jumped a bit to see a man with black hair, a beard, jeans, black shirt and a long black leather jacket, sitting at my kitchen table.

”Who the hell are you?” I asked him, angrily. “Billy Butcher, love.” He introduces as he nods to me and I realized this is the man that Maeve told me she was working with on capturing out of control Supes. “I just thought I’d pop by and ask you a few questions.” Butcher asked me as I go over to my liquor cabinet and take out a bottle of whiskey.

”I thought I told Maeve that I didn’t want to be bothered.” I said with a growl as I grab a couple of glasses. “She did tell me that but…I thought different.” Butcher tells me and I glare over at him. “So, from what I understand, you and Soldier Boy were close, right?” Butcher asked me and I begin to pour a glass of whiskey. “Okay, to save you time, yes, Soldier Boy and I were a thing. We had been on and off through out the years. In hindsight, we kept breaking up because of just stupid petty stuff but he would always find a way to win me back. Anything else you want me to answer, re-read that file I gave to Maeve.” I tell him.

”Well, before I go, there’s something I want you to elaborate on.” He said and I sighed, realizing this man is not gonna leave, and I pick up the second glass. “Would you like a drink?” I asked him as I hold up the whiskey bottle. “Oh, how very courteous of you.” Butcher said, in a bit of a surprised tone.

”Just being a good host, even if you were a surprise guest.” I said as I pour him a drink. Then I pick up my glass and his glass and I walk over to the table and hand him his glass. “Thank you.” He said and he takes a sip.

”Maeve’s told me about your rivalry with Homelander and how you think all Supes are bad. But I will tell you this, Mr Butcher, not all of us are like Homelander. I know you don’t want to hear it but it’s the truth. All I want is to live a normal life and put that life behind me.” I said and Butcher rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. “I appreciate your honesty, but it’s the actions of many of those cunts against your word that makes it hard to believe you.” He replied.

”Believe whatever you want, Mr Butcher. As for me, all I want is to be left alone.” I said, taking a sip of my whiskey. “You know I visited your old teammate, Gunpowder.” Butcher said and I lowered my glass, glaring at him. “And let’s just say, things didn’t go well.” Butcher said and I feel my heart sink. “Did you kill him?” I asked him and he nods.

I gasped and closed my eyes as I turn my head away. “Not the response I expected…” Butcher said and I turned back to him. “He was a kid when he joined the team. Poor boy.” I said, sadly. “Huh? See, I heard you didn’t really like any of your teammates.” Butcher said. “Yes, some of them I didn’t get along with but Gunpowder was just an eager kid, trying to prove himself. I looked after him, made sure he didn’t fall down the same rabbit hole a lot of young Supes do.” I said.

“And yet, he put in a complaint about Soldier Boy’s abuse.” Butcher tells me. “I did the best I could with Soldier Boy. He would get in a few hits on Gunpowder but I always intervened if I saw he was about to go overboard.” I said as Butcher takes a swig at his drink.

”And did he ever abuse you?” He asked me. “No! He never did.” I replied, firmly. There was a long bit of silence between us before I go back to my drink. “Look, all I want to know is what happened to him? How did he die? Because I know that crap Vought pushed out is a load of bullocks.” Butcher said and I sighed.

”If I tell you what I know, will you leave me alone?” I asked him and Butcher stares at me then nods. “I don’t know what killed him. I was knocked out and when I came to, the others told me he was killed. We were in Nicaragua, '84, working with the CIA.” I said and Butcher furrowed his brow. “CIA?” He said, confused, and I nodded. “Who was the case officer?” Butcher asked me and I had to think. “Oh, fuck, what was her name….uh, Grace? Uh, Grace...Grace Mallory, that’s it!” I said, snapped my finger, and Butcher looked surprised by this.

”Judging by the look on your face, I’m guessing you know her?” I asked him. “Yes, yes, I do.” He said, determined, and he gets up from his chair. “Thank you for the drink and the talk. As promised, I will leave you be.” Butcher said and he leaves the kitchen then walks out the front door of my house.

I let out a sigh of relief and run my hands over my eyes. “What a fucking day.” I grumbled.

That night, I was cleaning up Ben’s old shield as I had the TV playing, which is broadcasting Homelander’s birthday. I didn’t really give a shit but I needed something playing in the background. “So let's give it up for Starlight and the man of the hour himself, Homelander!” A-Train said, who was wearing this colorful version of his old suit. I guess from the colors he is representing Africa; which from what Maeve told me about him, he is the last person to do something like this.

Music plays and cheers were heard as Starlight and Homelander go on stage as Homelander and A-Train shake hands then he leaves. “Wow, I'm so honored to be with you guys tonight to celebrate my dear friend and mentor Homelander. I'm here to do more than wish you a happy birthday, though. I'm thrilled to be announcing a project that is near and dear to my heart.” Starlight said and I snort as her saying Homelander is her mentor.

Yeah, I bet he is. I thought as I finished polishing the shield then look up at the TV. “The Starlight House is a nonprofit foundation dedicated to helping homeless and at-risk youth.” Starlight starts to explain until a voice shouts. “Hey, Homelander! Your Nazi died!”

”Well, damn.” I muttered as the crowd murmurs. “Homelander...He's just, he's a human. He's just like the rest of us. And we all make mistakes, right? But we all deserve second chances. In that spirit, Homelander has agreed to donate $10 million...” Starlight said then she laughs softly. “…to the Starlight House, which is, I mean...” she said and there was applause then Homelander says. “No.”

”Give...Come on. Give it up.” Starlight said as Homelander shakes his head. “No.” He said. “Give it up for this guy.” Starlight said as she was trying to control the situation but Homelander looked like he was done. “No. No. No.” Homelander said and the applause stops and the crowd goes quiet. “Starlight lied to you just now. She did. I don't make mistakes. I'm not just like the rest of you. I'm stronger. I'm smarter. I'm better. I am better. I'm not some weak-kneed fսcking crybaby that goes around fսcking apologizing all the time. And why the fսck would you want me to be?” Homelander said then he looks straight at the camera.

“Don't you dare stop rolling, Roger!” He shouts and I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing. This man is losing his mind. “All my life, people have tried to control me. My whole life. Rich people, powerful people have tried to muzzle me, cancel me, keep me impotent and obedient, like I'm a fսcking puppet. You know what? It worked. Because I allowed it to work. And guess what? If they can control me, then you can bet your ass they can control you. They already do. You just don't realize it.” Homelander said and I nod a bit as I was kinda agreeing with him there.

”I'm done. I am done apologizing. I am done being persecuted for my strength. You people should be thanking Christ that I am who and what I am, because you need me. You need me to save you. You do. I am the only one who possibly can. You're not the real heroes. I'm the real hero. I'm the real hero.” He said and the whole place stays silent and I shake my head. “And you lost me, crazy asshole.” I muttered and I shut my TV off.

@winchestergirl1720 @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @kitsun369 @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @deangirl96 @demodemo909

#fandom #fanfic #fan fiction #reader insert #x reader #fan fic writing #jensen ackles #soldier boy #the boys #the boys tv #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #fan fic update #tv show fandom #tv shows #superhero

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 2 months ago

Text

Ludos Imperiales

Summary: A Princess!Reader x Gladiator!Bat Boys fic that's been swimming around in my head for weeks after watching Gladiator I and II

Content Warnings: Blood and Gore, Mentions of Torture, Slavery, and Assault

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“So good of you to finally join us, cousin.” The din of the crowd nearly drowns out the words, the feverish cheers echoing off the massive stone pillars that hold the auditorium seats up and away from the stench of death and decay that permeates from the mud soaked pit beneath the plush outdoor auditorium. There are rows of decadent booths along the pit's edge, each box set with plush chases and golden edged pillows. Slaves with palm fronds fan ornately dressed royals, their faces obscured by gold lined veils. The auditorium oozes wealth and luxury, offers decadent food and drink and deep enough betting pools to make the strictest penny pinchers among the elite crawl out of their caves to try their luck.

The altar for the Mother gleams golden in the afternoon sunlight, the carved statue standing with arms and feathered wings outstretched in welcome. Beckoning those to come and offer a bit of blood in hopes of trading it for some luck. Luck for the gamblers, of course, never the males, and sometimes females, who fight and die in the muddy pit far beneath the first row of booths. My father says they made the Games to punish our enemies, and to reward our soldiers, but both fight and die as equals all the same.

I frown first at the statue, how could our most beloved Goddess reward this kind of brutality? Then at my cousin, who I remember, is still waiting for me to speak. Dagdan sports his military regalia, the glittering medals across his chest all pinned there by my father for his service to our great empire. Service he never actually participated in. Dagdan can wield a sword because of the patience of his tutors, he’s never raised it in battle, despite the stories he tells at every possible turn.

“Father said the Games would be impressive this year,” I reply, trying to keep the bite out of my tone. Mother raised me to be demure, to keep my chin up, to never let an enemy see what I was feeling. She had been good at that, too good, perhaps that was why she had been publicly executed. For all her poise, she had not been able to outmatch my Father’s paranoia.

Beside him, Dagdan’s twin sister Brannagh grins, her pearly white teeth a harsh contrast to her otherwise impassive face. It’s like watching a shark try to grin. “The Uprising in the Courts made for a lot of candidates this year.”

My stomach turns. The Empire is vast, spreading across continents and oceans. The Courts in Prythian were the last of the fae to fall in line before Father turned his attention to the Human Lands. Each year, more and more slaves and captives are carted in through the iron gates far beneath the smooth stones we stand on, all tossed into the mud to fight each other for a slim possibility of survival. Some come willingly, chasing fortune and gold; some are sponsors of Father’s Inner Circle, their armor always pristine, their weapons always sharp. But most of the gladiators are slaves, crammed into dingy cells in the catacombs beneath the arena. Despite the decadence of the auditorium, one visit down into the bowels of this awful place was enough to scar me for life. As Father intended, I’m sure. Our esteemed Emperor had not been shy about his disdain for not being able to produce a son and his paranoia often convinced him that I would one day find a husband crafty enough to steal his Throne before he found a match he thought suitable, he often dragged me to these things to remind me the brutality he was capable of if I stepped out of line. No doubt it was why he’d insisted I come out today. I had not been out in public in some time, not after the grief of losing my mother had so thoroughly consumed me. My grief had shamed him; had made some in his Inner Circle suspect I was also plotting against him. My presence here was as much a check into my loyalties as it was to remind me of what fate could befall me if I kept on wallowing away in the dark.

I smooth my hands over my skirts, putting thoughts of my Mother aside. It always feels like a gaping wound in my chest, nerve and sinew exposed and open for every onlooker to see. I must reign it in. For the sake of my future.

“We’ll see a lot of Fae, then?” There were a lot of elves last year and shifters the year before that. There is no prejudice in the games. Race and gender matter little in a battle of survival.

The twins follow me as I find my way through the bustling crowd to our booth, where I know Father will already be waiting.

“Some humans for the first round,” Dagdan spits like he’s tasted something vile.

“Some half-breeds and mutts for the second,” Brannagh finishes with far more delight than her brother. Their eagerness from blood is one of the few reasons Father didn’t name their heir in my place. Brutality is necessary, but bloodlust turns a well rounded Empire on its head. Father placates them by giving them titles, parading them around like their important so they remain loyal, but he will never truly give them the power they seek. They’re simply not smart enough to see it.

“But the final round will be entertaining,” Dagdan says, gray eyes twinkling as the wall of guards at attention in Father’s booth part for us.

Our esteemed emperor sits on a throne made entirely of gold, a goblet of wine already in his hands. A circlet of gold leaf perches on top of his salt and pepper hair, the sharp edges reflecting the light along the crimson curtains that help keep out the summer heat. We all bow to him as we enter, and Father reaches out a hand for mine without ever looking at us.

“It is good to see you outside again, daughter,” he says, chapped lips brushing over my knuckles in a brief display of affection.

“I’m sorry it has been so long, Father,” I keep my voice even, unbothered. I will not let any of them see how much I hate all of this.

He guides me to sit on the couch beside the throne, where I have ample view of the uneven floor below. Yesterday’s rain has filled the giant pit with mud. Mud that could have easily been covered and smoothed out to make the playing field fair for all, but that is not how these Games work. Bones still litter the uneven ground, a rib cage protruding from a mound of dirt, a crumbling arrow still caught inside it. There’s the skull of an animal turned upside down, a stream of muddy water running out the eye sockets like some sort of twisted water fountain. Old weapons lay scattered around the arena floor; a wagon weaves around boulders and mounds of loose earth to scatter more.

“I trust you’re feeling better?” The question is pointed, for the sake of my cousins. He has been telling people the shock of my Mother’s supposed betrayal had been too much on my health and I’d been bed ridden. It’s not entirely far from the truth.

“Yes, Father. The sunlight does me good.” Not far from the truth either. It is nice to be away from the palace and all the chaos that comes with it.

Brannagh sits beside me, a slave scurrying behind her with a fan, a second not far behind with some wine. She stretches her long legs out in front of her with a sigh, the sunlight drifting through the curtains making her pale skin look translucent. “Do you have a favorite to win today, Uncle?”

My Father sips from his goblet, a bit of wine caught in his graying beard. “Just a favorite to lose,” he chuckles. Though he is getting older, the gleam in his slate gray eyes is still sharp and youthful. Even with his bouts of paranoia, his mind is still sharp and calculating.

“Do tell, before it’s too late for me to change my bets,” Dagdan quips. Though I doubt it is all in jest, my cousin is far more in debt than he realizes.

Horns blare from the upper rings of the arena, signalling those still milling about placing bets and finding food to get to their seats. The Games will start soon. My stomach twists itself into a new knot. There is no shortage of ways my Father will have found to torment the poor souls who find themselves in the pit today, I am not eager to see what they are.

“There was some… trouble in the mountain regions of the Courts,” he says carefully.

I force myself not to turn and look at him. Trouble for my father usually means rebellion, or outright war, anything else is too insignificant to mention. In my seclusion, I had not even caught wind of it.

“We have a few insurrectionists I’d like to see fall today.”

Few are foolish enough to raise a hand against the Empire. It usually means their provinces go without food and aid in the harsher months of the year. I am curious to see who would be foolish enough to risk the lives of their people.

“Those great wings of theirs would make an excellent trophy on my wall,” Father finishes.

A shiver runs down my spine. It would not be the first gruesome trophy of his, but still, the outright admittance to such cruelty still makes me tremble. My unease is only heightened by the arrival of my Father’s General, who enters the booth followed by a handful of male slaves, all barely dressed.

“Amarantha!” It is no secret that my Father has always wished I shared the temperament and constitution of his beloved General. If he had to be cursed with a female for an heir, he wanted ruthlessness, cunning, and a smile that could peel paint. All things the red headed fae oozed in abundance.

All things my Father was convinced I lacked. I’d take it. His disdain was better than being exactly like her. I can’t help the way my nose crinkles at the sight of her. Brannagh moves closer to the edge of the couch, in hopes of ending up in her line of vision, eager to swap stories before the Games officially start. Brannagh wants to be just like her, the gaggle of pleasure slaves included. The two of them would unleash hell on the world if my Father ever put the two of them together.

“Your Highness,” Amarantha bows, the loose fabric of her nearly sheer gown spilling to give my Father ample view of her cleavage. I stopped allowing myself to question the nature of their relationship long ago; my stomach turns thinking about it.

“It is a good day for betting, don’t you think?” She asks. Her voice is like gravel, fitting since its the color of her eyes. A finger bone dangles from her neck, an eye encased in glass sitting atop her finger; though she is lean, she is stronger and more deadly than most people assume at first glance. Everything about her is dangerously sharp.

“I was just telling Dagdan the same thing,” my Father says.

Those dark eyes flick briefly to my cousin, who puffs up his chest, but she ignores him entirely as her gaze settles on me. “Princess! I didn’t know you’d be joining us today. What a monumental occasion!”

“I thought the fresh air would do me some good,” I say simply. What else is there to say to Evil Incarnate? Perhaps I should put more energy into being clever, I know that if Amarantha saw a benefit to cleaving my head from my shoulders, she’d take it--power is all she cares about, so far we haven’t faced each other because she doesn’t think I have enough to steal--but I cannot summon the energy. Ever since the incident with my Mother, I have not managed to find much in me at all. Especially not for Amarantha and her social climbing.

“Nothing like a little blood sport to invigorate the mind,” she purrs as she lowers herself into the seat at my Father’s right hand. One of her slaves perches on the arm of her chair, bare chest glinting with oils in the harsh sunlight. Another sits at her feet, and her nails, sharpened to points, drift harshly through his thick curls.

I watch my cousin run her tongue over her lips at the sight.

“Did you place any bets, Princess?” Amarantha continues as someone brings her a goblet of wine. She sniffs suspiciously at it before instructing one of her slaves to test it first. Perhaps poison would be a mercy.

Never admit weakness. Never admit that my solitude has kept me out of the loop and left me ill prepared for whatever is about to happen in the Pit beneath us. Instead, I say, “We have several days of entertainment, I prefer to observe on the first day.”

To his credit, my Father does reach over and pat my shoulder in approval.

“Clever,” she says, but there’s enough bite in it to not make it a compliment.

“My money is on your Attor, as always, General,” Brannagh says with the eagerness of a child with a crush.

Amarantha huffs in annoyance, as if my cousin is a fly buzzing around her ear, “He’s too good, its almost boring at this point.”

Brannagh deflates, but before she can come up with something witty in response, the final warning horn blows from the rafters. The Games will begin.

I turn my attention away from my company, watching brightly dressed royals rush to their booths. There are all sorts of creatures here to watch: Elves and Fae and Fawn, a few Goblins and Giants, observing from a standing platform opposite us. There is room for most, save for humans, within the Empire, as long as they prove their usefulness. That is my Father’s crowning achievement, the Hybern Empire has room for all, if you play your cards right and never step out of line.

The groaning of the gates draws my attention away from the spectators and down into the Pit beneath us, where a whole cart of humans appears from the gloom of one of the entrances. They look small; mud and blood splattered as several Praetorian guards usher them out of the cart with spears bigger than most of their heads. The guards do not remove their shackles, leaving all twelve of them tethered together in the center of the Pit.

The cart rolls away, the guards with it, only once their out does another gate open to let out the challenger: Amarantha’s hulking Attor. The creature is battle scarred, lines criss-crossing over its leathery skin. Its giant wings flutter on the breeze behind it as it stalks into the center, Amarantha’s crest painted in blood red over its chest.

The crowd goes wild as it enters the pit, clawed hands swinging wildly around its hulking body. “ATTOR! ATTOR! ATTOR!” The monster has always been the crowd favorite.

Amarantha yawns. She’ll make thousands off the creature, but that is nothing to her. Money is trivial, unless it can buy her the power she craves.

I glance at my Father as the Games Maker starts addressing the crowd and explaining the match up. “Would it not be more entertaining to unchain them?” They’re all going to die anyway, surely this gives them a fighting chance to die with some honor. “We all know the Attor will win, why make it easy for it?”

Amarantha nearly spits out her wine, a gurgling sound coming out of her as she tries to maintain her composure.

I do not let myself grin at the victory.

Father runs a hand over his graying beard in thought. “Perhaps your solitude did you some good, Daughter.”

I do not shutter. I cannot save any of them, as pitiful and helpless as they look alongside the Attor. It will give them all gruesome deaths purely for the fun of it. But perhaps the Mother will take pity; may the chance to die fighting grant them peace in the afterlife.

Father stands and motions for the Game Maker to quiet. “Let the humans be unchained!”

The crowd erupts into varying shouts of surprise and approval.

“Let us test the skill of the Attor!”

This pleases the crowd, but it makes Amarantha’s cheeks flush crimson. She hides a grimace behind her wine as my Father returns to his seat.

A single guard returns with keys, and the crowd falls into a hushed silence, waiting for chaos to ensue. I force myself not to look away; to face what I have done. One of the humans cranes its head to look up at our box and flashes us his middle finger.

Dagdan bristles in his seat next to his sister. “He should pay for that!”

They will. There will be no rescue. There is none to be found. The Empire comes for all of us eventually, best that we can do is go into it with our heads up. I am trying to accept my fate in this, what other choice do I have, lest I end up dead or locked away.

Once the guard is clear, the horns once again blow, telling the Attor he can start his hunt. Those great wings at his back kick up loose dirt as he launches into the air with a roar that makes the arena tremble.

The crowd cheers, leaning forward in their seats to watch as the monster swoops down and gets its great jaws around the head of the first human. Brannagh giggles at the splatter of blood that erupts from the poor creature’s neck.

I clench my hands in my lap.

The second human tries to run, scrambling for purchase in the thick mud. It doesn’t help that they’re all barefoot. The Attor’s claws tear through the human’s back like butter, the poor thing going down with a wail that makes my heart lurch painfully in my chest.

The third manages to find a sword, the blade rusted from the rain; the man gets a good swipe in, nicking the inside of the Attor’s palm before it gets shredded to pieces.

Each human tries a little harder than the last, getting further each time. One manages to weave around the debris and avoid being swooped down on like the first, but the uneven terrain catches her ankle, sending her sprawling down with a shout as her leg is left twisted and broken. Another manages to get an arrow into the Attor’s back, but not deep enough to do damage. They all go down fighting, and each new one has me saying a mental prayer to the Mother on their behalf, but none survive. Much to the crowd’s glee.

“Wonderful!” Brannagh says, clapping as the Attor roars in victory.

Amarantha shrugs. “Boring.”

The Attor exits the Pit, ever the victor. The bodies it left aren’t even carted away. No one comes to pick up the pieces. No one will bury them. Their bones will rot and decay into the Pit floor.

I ask one of my Father’s servants for some wine to try and settle the nausea that rolls in my stomach, but even the smoothest of wine does not dull it.

My Father watches me carefully, calculating every move. I do my best to keep my features neutral.

“What did you think, Daughter?”

I take another sip of wine before speaking, giving myself time to collect my thoughts. “Humans don’t make very good gladiators.”

He laughs at that and my cousins join in, as if it was the funniest thing ever.

“Humans don’t make good anything,” Dagdan says.

“Except for a snack,” Brannagh adds.

“Worms,” Amarantha spits.

Father raises his cup in salute to me. “May the next match be more exciting for you.”

I ignore my revulsion and return the gesture. I cannot wait for this to be over. I shall retire back into my gloomy quarters with the curtains drawn and try to scrub the gory images from my brain. Perhaps my solitude would be more comforting than this.

The horns blow announcing the next match and the Games Maker drones on and on about where these next gladiators hail from. One side are all sponsored by royal families, all males trying to make a name for themselves and some coin to feed their families. They’re all well trained and well equipped for the task. They’re a filler spot, to give the rest of the Game Makers time to prepare the next victims of the Empire’s wrath. Beneath the Pit floor, in the dark of the catacombs, the next round of war captives are likely being hauled out of their cells and prepped. I can’t help but wonder if they can hear the roaring of the Bogges and Gladiator’s alike from down there. Do they understand what is about to happen? Are they saying their final prayers to the Mother?

I can’t help but glance at Her altar. What kind of world is this that we live in? Brutal and cruel and blood splattered. If we are so favored, how could our lives look like this? It is thoughts like these that have kept me sequestered in my room. I do not know what I am supposed to live for, or who I am supposed to be any more. My life feels like it is stretching out before me, and someone else is pulling on the strings, making me a puppet that moves at their will. I no longer have the protection of my Mother. Father will soon throw me to the wolves if I am not smart or careful or cunning. The world is different and dark and I have utterly lost my way.

I am so wrapped up in my thoughts I barely register the fight. One of the males gets eaten by the terrifying Bogge, his screams echoing off the great walls. The crowd eats it up, cheering and screaming and jumping from their seats. The more blood that flows the louder they yell and cheer. These are my people? These are who I am to rule one day? What does that make me?

Dagdan huffs about his losses as the gladiators exit the arena, the Bogge all dead. He drowns his sorrows in his cup as if the solution to his terrible gambling habit might lie in the bottom.

“Finally, now we can get to the part I’ve been waiting for!” Amarantha declares.

Father grins. “I take it they gave you trouble on the way here?”

She spits again, a nasty habit that doesn’t bother anybody but me, apparently. “Damned Illyrians! Had to use faebane on them the whole way, otherwise they tore through the damn chains!”

Father shakes his head. “I have to admit they surprised me-” certainly a feat few have ever accomplished in his lifetime “-usually their kind throw themselves on their swords before they get caught. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

I’ll chalk that up to his paranoia talking, but I have to admit, I am intrigued by the conversation. Anyone who can surprise my Father must be very skilled. Despite my disdain for these Games, I find myself leaning forward to get a better look into the arena when I hear the grates open for the third time.

“What is there to be surprised about?” Amarantha counters, but her words feel farther away as I catch sight of movement from the dark tunnel behind the entrance of the arena. “They’re rebels, their deaths will make martyrs out of them. They want a public execution.”

The world feels as if it has narrowed into this moment. The din of the crowd starts to fade in and out of focus. I am suddenly very aware of the roaring of my heartbeat in my own ears.

The first male steps out of the tunnel, stripped to the waist, his bronze chest smattered with cuts and scrapes and bruises so dark they’re nearly black. Dark twisting tattoos trace their way up his broad chest and over his shoulders and back, until they meet great, leathery wings like that of a bat’s. Long, dark hair, matted with mud and what might be blood, clings to his face, but despite the disheveled state, his hazel eyes remain clear and bright.

The crowd boos when they see him. A few people hurl food at him.

“Cassian,” Amarantha scoffs. “The rebels call him their General.”

Father frowns. “As foolish as their militia was, do not forget how many of our soldiers he killed.”

I cannot take my eyes off him. He’s taller than the guard that leads him by his bound wrists into the Pit. Larger too. Those broad shoulders and defined abs speak volumes about how skilled in swordplay he must be.

“Will you keep his wings when he dies, Uncle?” Brannagh asks.

The wine threatens to come up at the thought of having to see such beautiful wings pinned to a wall in Father’s study. The male clearly cares for them. When the guard gets too close he flicks them out of reach. While there are some nicks in the leathery membrane, the wings are the least scarred part of him. He has to take good care of them for someone so battle hardened to keep them looking like that.

“Happily,” Father says.

Even if I wanted to look at him, I couldn’t, not as the second male enters the arena. He’s a little shorter than the first, his hair shorter, the dark onyx locks curling gently around his forehead. Blood still drips from an open gash across his temple, staining his cheek and neck crimson. Like the first, his chest is bare and marked with the same swirling tattoos, but unlike the first, his great wings hang limp behind him. One drags along the mud like a cape, the leathery membrane ripped open and bleeding, the other is twisted at an angle sharp enough to make me wince at the sight. The urge to run down to him is overwhelming. My hands drift down to the seat cushion and hold tight to keep myself still.

The crowd continues to boo and throw things as he tries to keep his head up and meet the other male in the center of the Pit.

“Azriel,” Father says to Amarantha, “ was quite a challenge for you, I hear?”

His beloved General frowns. “The shadow wielder managed to get a few good blows in, I’ll admit. But surprise only gets you so far.”

My eyes drift from his broken wings to his hands, covered entirely in scars, like someone burned him. The thought makes my chest heavy.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. I have never been so obviously shaken by the Games, not since the first time I’d come. Father had made me sit through weeks of slaughter, watching as gladiator after gladiator fell prey to a magic storm and a slew of magic beasts. Even then I had managed to hold it together until I’d made it home to vomit, but now I feel as if I cannot keep my body in its seat!

The magic that lives caged beneath my, usually, pristine facade cracks through, a bit of dark mist seeping out from between my fingers. I unfurl my fists and take my hands carefully into my lap, using a bit of my skirts to hide the errant flow of power. I’ve been neglecting my studies, have not given myself an outlet, this is a terrible time for a flare up! I try to focus on my breathing, the pounding of my heart isn’t helping. I need to remain calm. I need to remain in control.

A feat that feels utterly impossible as the third and final male exits the tunnel. Time comes to a grinding halt, every footfall against the Pit floor a drumming, haunting echo in my ears. I have utterly forgotten how to breathe; how to think. The male is by far the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen, violet eyes twinkling with a thousand glittering stars. He sports the same tattoos as the others, the same bronze skin and battle hardened muscle, but it is the expression on his face that gets me. He is as battered and bloody as the second male, cheek split open, a slash mark clean down the middle of his chest; most of his body is a bruise, but he doesn’t wince at all. He keeps his chin high, high enough to look Father right in the eyes with every step he takes into the Pit. There’s a clear challenge there, unhindered by the chains around his neck and wrists. Those gorsian stone chains don’t often make an appearance, unless the person attached to them is exceptionally skilled with magic.

“Rhysand,” this time Amarantha’s voice is an excited purr and the power trying to escape through my fingers slips faster from my palms. I dig my nails so tight into my palms they bleed.

“I do admit, it’s a shame you have to kill him,” she continues. “He’d make such a pretty addition to my collection.”

It is all I can do to not turn and hurl a blast of dark, obsidian power at her. I keep my gaze on the Pit instead, as the final rebel joins the others in the center. Its only once he’s there that something clicks into place in my mind. If Amarantha still speaks I can’t hear her. Time freezes again, the only signal of its passing the pounding of my heart in my ears.

They’re my mates!

And I’m about to watch them die.

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #Cassian x reader #azriel x reader #poly!bat boys x reader #gladiator!bat boys #gladiator!rhys #gladiator!cassian #gladiator!azriel #acotar fic #acotar au #bat boys smut (eventually)#my writing #my fic

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