#the boys fic

[dollerinna]

WOULD YOU LIKE AN ALMOND JOY .ᐣ

( black noir x gn!crime analyst reader )

summary: after a long day of work, you try to unwind by watching your comfort show, but your solitude is interrupted by yet another visit from noir, who seems to be finding more and more excuses to spend time with you… (includes a C.AI bot as part 2 below!)

wordcount: 2k

tags: brief mention of NSFW pop-up ads, nerdy n’ socially awkward reader, noir’s disdain for almond joys but he makes up for it at the end <3

It had been a long day at the crime analytics office in Vought. As the sun began to set, exhaustion crept over you after reviewing incident report after report. Your eyes strained from the blue glare of your computer screen. You knew you had promised your boss you would organize the ever-growing database, but the tiny voice of procrastination was pleading for rest before your overworked brain turned into a pile of mush.

Rather than more paperwork—you, being the slacker of all slackers in this department, decided a well-deserved break was in order. And what better way to recharge than turning off the noggin and filling it with good ol’ fashioned mindless entertainment?

With a few tired clicks of your mouse, you booted up your go-to streaming site, which was none other than 123movies. Scrolling through the options, your cursor hovered over the play button of your favorite trashy drama. The kind of cheesy, perfectly predictable melodrama spun from the worst of amateur YA plots. It was practically comfort food for your fatigued mind, just what you needed to loosen up after the mental marathon that was this long day.

As the opening credits began to roll, your computer began to whir and hiss like an overtaxed engine, emitting gusts of unusually hot air from the vents. Suddenly, its screen slowed to a sluggish crawl, cluttered with a barrage of not-so-savory pop-up ads. Barely a minute in, the pixels already scrambled to form images better to left unseen—half naked women in risqué yet tacky mermaid-like attire, claiming they were ‘just around the corner and ready for a good aquatic fuck.’

First of all, what the absolute living hell is an “aquatic fuck”??

Did you even want to know? And most importantly, what happened to the ad blocker you installed just the other day? Judging by the contents, you had a sneaking suspicion that slimy, sea-dwelling degenerate, The Deep, had tampered with your computer… yet again.

“For the love of-… what’s with all these pop-up ads?” you muttered under your breath as excessively explicit ads crowded out the episode. Your eyes darted furtively around the room to check for wandering glances, hoping against hope that none of your coworkers had noticed the unwanted filth invading your screen. Heart pounding, you squeezed your chair closer to your monitor into a makeshift barricade, shielding the display as best you could while hastily clicking away at the intrusive ads.

As you hurriedly closed the remaining windows, an ominous shadow fell across the screen. Dreading what—or who—might be behind you, you slowly swiveled your chair around to find Black Noir's stoic stare boring into your own.

You stifled a yelp as you instinctively clutched the armrests, catching yourself on the edge of your seat before an ungainly spill to the floor. Noir had a way of materializing without warning, and it never failed to unnerve.

“N-Noir!” you managed, inwardly cringing as your voice broke on his name. “Fancy seeing you in these parts. I was just taking a quick break and y’know- stretching ‘em brain cells.” You tried for a lighthearted chuckle, but it emerged as more of a strained squeak that faded into an anxious hum.

With a jerky flurry of clicks and the browser minimized from view, whatever dignity you still retained disappearing along with it. All that did remain was you praying to the heavens above that he hadn't noticed its questionable contents (even if he most definitely had and simply chose not to comment)

When Noir offered no response, you of course charmingly barreled ahead in your frazzled daze. “But anyways, s-sorry about that… how uh, can I help you today?” your words tumbled out in a breathless rush, punctuated by a shrill laugh you hoped disguised the mortification simmering beneath.

Noir cocked his head, observing you with that same silent intensity. You fidgeted, hands twisting in knotted discomfort, the heat in your ears now engulfing your entire face. Was it the invasive pop-ups that had you squirming in your seat? Or the fact he could snuff out your existence faster than you can say “workers’ comp”?

Either way, beneath the weight of his stare, you already felt as if you were some peculiar, freakish creature pinned for study, rather than some bumbling employee just trying to unwind and watch their comfort show.

And to him, you indeed were a fascinating, bizarre little human.

Mercifully, Noir chose to extend a folder toward you, putting an end to your somewhat pathetic withering. You accepted it with a wordless nod, nearly sagging in your chair as tension drained from your shoulders.

Whirling towards the familiar clutter of your desk once more, you pretended absorption in the folder’s material, hoping this signaled Noir’s leave. After all, has anyone seen the state of you? It certainly wasn’t a flattering one. Yet from the corner of your eye, you detected no movement, no receding footsteps—his shadowy form remained statuesquely in place.

Believe it or not, this has been becoming a thing, a growing habit of late—and a suspicious one at that. Lately his breaks had grown longer, minutes lengthening to quarters of an hour, all spent hovering at your desk as you worked. However, his focus was solely on watching and observing you. He never exhibited a hint of thought or motive for his reason there, only leaving you with questions that seemed to multiply by each and every visit.

Noir, on the other hand, was somehow utterly convinced that you and him were two peas in a tightly-knit pod. He swore you two were best of buds for life—even if "life" so far had only amounted to the past two weeks' worth of half-hour stretches where he silently observed your work from the corner.

Ironically, you didn’t have the slightest inkling of how he really felt. Instead, you always assumed that he, like most supes, regarded you as little more than a puny mortal—a fragile, near-useless sack of flesh and bones whose skull he was one misstep away from caving in with bare hands.

But nope, Noir was simply here to bless you, the nerdy but cute crime analyst, with his presence—his rather… unsettling presence.

The familiar hush settled as you reluctantly returned focus to the task at hand. Hocus-pocus-focus, you chanted mentally, peeling away the last shreds of stray thoughts to tap into the zone of productivity. Unfurling the dossier Noir provided, you began sifting through documents for insight on his purpose in approaching you. Meanwhile, a flick of movement in the edge of your vision revealed Noir's attention veer off course, the almond joy perched beside your keyboard capturing his notice.

You tensed, hocus-pocus-focus breaking, all too aware of past disappearances of snacks in these briefings. Sure enough, his hand drifted noiselessly toward the candy bar, no doubt spurred by ingrained impulse to dispose of it per his usual custom. But you'd grown wise to his methods by now.

Not again, you sighed inwardly, snatching the almond joy and cradling it protectively as if it were your dear, beloved child.

Noir made no move to withdraw, palm outstretched expectantly. You frowned, struggling to keep frustration at bay. "Please, come on- not this time!.. It's my last one for the day." Brows pinching, your tone threatened to rise before steadying with a slow and calm inhale. No use losing composure over candy, no matter the principle. So all you could do was peer beseechingly at Noir in silent appeal, legs jittering restlessly under your desk in building apprehension.

Unfortunately, you found no signs of leniency in his obscured face—only his hand beckoning relentlessly for the almond joy. You plea was once again met with stony resolve, as if he was internally distressed by the mere presence of it. What was he? Deathly allergic to almond joys or something?

With a resigned breath, you delivered the almond joy towards Noir's waiting glove, unable to hide the disappointment dimming your features. Your lips curled into a slight pout, gaze sinking heavy into your lap at being parted from the treat. Though Noir was never one for words, it really didn’t take a rocket scientist to see you felt bullied into submission by his demands. At the end of the day, what power did a measly analyst like yourself hold against one of the Seven? As your fingers uncurled, releasing the candy into Noir's grasp, you couldn't help but feel a bit put upon, even if that wasn’t his intention at all.

Noir was well aware of the upset feelings his request had caused, so in an attempt to remedy the situation, his arm was sent in a backwards reach for the notepad he often used to communicate. However, he found himself at a loss as words eluded him, his thoughts swirling in frustrating circles of “What should I even say?”—muddled and incoherent. For a moment he stared at you, mask betraying no emotion as he grappled to find the right words, despite the prick of guilt nibbling at his conscience. Then, lacking any better option, he simply tossed the offending candy into the trash, perhaps with more force than intended.

Clearly, socializing was not Noir’s strong suit.

With no further acknowledgment, Noir spun on his heel and marched away. You watched his retreating, rigid form with discomfort clenching your insides, eyes falling onto the lonely candy discarded in the trash, its colorful wrapper mocking your current disheartened state.

Wearily, you turned away from the almond joy, redirecting your attention toward the computer as a means to divert your now soured mood. Maximizing the browser, you hoped that your planned show may have had time to load during the interaction. But upon inspecting the screen, you found the video remained stubbornly stalled, stuck on buffering dots and refusing to roll despite the minutes passed.

Just. Peachy.

One (super)human encounter had sucked the very life source out of your dog-tired body, and now this. It was really shaping up to be one of those days.

Thoroughly worn out, you gently laid your head down onto the desk, pillowing it against the crook of your folded arms as eyelids slid shut. All you craved was to simply sleep away the remaining time until you could finally escape this wretched shift and retreat to the sanctuary of your home sweet home.

─────────────────

As your shift wound down to its end, you were finally stirring from your slumber. Rubbing the sleep from your bleary eyes, your blurred vision sharpened to show your colleagues had long since departed while you were snoozing away.

Rising and squaring your shoulders, you began to gather your belongings in preparation to leave as well. Once you had collected everything and lifted to your feet, something in the far corner of your desk caught your eye. Approaching for a closer look in the dim lighting, the fuzzy outline gradually came into focus—a cluttered collection of Hershey's Kisses, their jumbled placement grouped to form the shape of a heart.

You blinked in bewilderment, rubbing your eyes once more to ensure you weren't imagining things. Stepping closer, you spotted a sticky note nestled within the heart of chocolates, scrawled upon in a crude, blocky hand. At first, you assumed it was some silly prank from one of your coworkers, but you knew you recognized the handwriting anywhere—it was Noir's.

Gingerly, you plucked the sticky note from the desk, lifting it to your line of sight to read the message. “Kisses taste better than almond joys…Sorry.” you read softly, your voice trailing off as confusion crept in.

Designed as a very apparent flirty gesture, the intent behind the note and chocolates still managed to whoosh straight over your head. As always seemed the case, even the most painfully obvious social cues could so easily evade your understanding—this proving no exception.

You slipped the sticky note into your pocket, then selected a foil-wrapped Kiss from the pile. Gently rolling the chocolate between your fingers, you unwrapped it and popped one into your mouth. You took time to savor its light cream filling beneath a smooth outer shell, face crinkling in thought and head tilting as you considered your verdict. “Eh… I’d beg to differ.” you mused with a shrug, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you took your leave from the office.

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Pssst- likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

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a C.AI bot as your very own part 2 where you thank Noir the following day:

a/n: saw somewhere that kisses don’t contain nuts but then I also saw someone else say they actually do??? So let’s just pretend the kisses Noir chose are completely nut-free for the sake of the plot 😭

also, the reader is very much based off Anika if it wasn’t obvious enough haha! She’s so y/n coded 😤💗

♡ divider credits: @/ianrkives

[cherrygirlfriend]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ shark week

pairing: soldier boy x reader synopsis: reader is on her period. soldier boy doesn’t care: warnings/tags: smut! period sex, piv MDNI! wc: 500 a/n; got my period but ben's the best way to cure cramps <33 happy international women's day my queens!!

masterlist ♡

you and ben knew how to read each other's body language from all the time you'd been together; so as soon as he grabbed the book out of your hands and placed it face down on the coffee table, you knew his intentions.

"ben..." you raised your brows, letting out a small squeal as the man tugged you into his lap, a playful smile on ben's lips as you felt a slight bulge under you. he started peppering kisses on your neck, his heavy stubble tickling the skin of your neck. the man moved his hand to your breast, greedily kneading your breast with his large hand.

"yeah, baby?" he mumbled against your neck.

"i'm on my period." you chuckled, yet your statement did nothing to deter ben, his manhandling only getting bolder, small pecks turning into open-mouthed kisses, his tongue dragging along to the path your lips created.

"so?" ben slipped his unoccupied hand into your sweatpants, his warm touch making you shiver as his hands lingered at the waistband of your panties, "you think i ain't seen blood before?"

"i mean, it's different, isn't it?." you giggled softly, "isn't it, y'know a bit gross?"

ben pulled back from your neck, looking up at you as if you'd uttered the stupidest sentence he'd ever heard. "i ain't scared of a bit of blood." he grumbled, "now, are you gonna let me bury myself into your pussy or do i have to make you?"

you stood up slightly, and ben mimicked your actions as you pulled you sweatpants down, both of you now in your underwear. looking down at him, you asked, "are you sure?" only for the man to roll his eyes in exasperation. you took a deep breath, revealing your blood-smeared cunt to him, only for ben to chuckle, pulling his boxers down and freeing his hardened cock.

ben placed his hand at the base of his cock, giving it a stroke as a soft breath escaped his lips, "just do it, baby." he chuckled softly, "i'm not a fucking pussy. i can handle a bit of blood."

you took in a deep breath, straddling yourself over him, counting down one, two, three... until you finally let yourself sink down on ben, feeling his cock molding into the shape of your cunt. you could feel blood gushing onto him, but ben didn't care, his hands steady on your hips.

"you're doing so good..." he mumbled as he moved you up and down on his cock, making sure you knew who was in control.

"you don't mind this?" you mumbled softly before burying your face in his neck, letting ben continue whatever he was doing, only for your boyfriend to chuckle.

"mind?" ben grumbled, making sure to piston his hips even harder, the pressure against the sweet, spongy spot inside of you as he chuckled, "i'd do this any day if i could…"

[figthoughts]

“jesus—” thrust “can you—” thrust “just—” thrust “shut—” thrust “the fuck—” thrust “up—” thrust “for once?”

SOLDIER BOY’s pace is unforgiving, like the painful grip he has on your hip, but his attitude is even worse. his other large calloused hand shoves your head into the mattress, smushing your teary-eyed face against the sheets. he ignores the whimpery pleas and apologies that leave your mouth as he pounds into your weeping cunt from behind. the loud slapping of skin meeting fills the dingy motel room where butcher had left you to babysit the psychotic supe.

“sick of your whiny fuckin’ voice. i can’t say anything when you’re around, can i? s’always whinge, whinge, whinge with you modern fuckin’ women. give me a break,” he huffs in irritation, snapping his hips into your ass, stretching your soaked cunt taut around his thick veiny member. you’re almost sure you’re going to rip in half from his merciless strokes. his tip pounds against that sweet gooey spot that makes your legs buckle underneath you—the only thing still holding you up is his bruising grip on your hip and his girthy dick impaling you from behind.

“not so tough when you’re bent over, taking my fuckin’ cock, huh?” he laughs breathlessly at you and how you’re blubbering below him. “just look at you… got nothin’ to say now. s’pathetic really.”

[horror-sapphic]

HER ★ GIRL | Victoria Neuman x Fem Reader

Summary: You're having an affair with Vice President Victoria Neuman, and you're her star girl.

Cw: Secret affair, Smut/NSFW(18+), “light” dom/sub dynamic, spanking mentioned, slight hair-pulling kink (Vic), hinted pain kink(Vic), escorting mentioned (r), desk sex, Strap-on(R receiving), cum licking, cum handkerchief used as a gag, this is straight up filth tbh, angst, secret mutual pining, not much dialogue

A/N: Inspired by a post I saw by @princesssmars, I couldn't stop thinking about it. This was supposed to be like 200 words but i literally couldn’t stop writing omg I need her.

Barley proofread (sorry for any spelling or grammar errors, I wrote and "checked" this in one sitting)

V.N Masterlist

wc: 1.9k +

You quickly became Neuman’s star girl.

You undoubtedly stood out from all the other girls Victoria would hire for nights of lustful fun, she fell in love with the sight of you working between her legs while tucked under her desk while she worked.

She’s still locked in on the memory of you two a few nights ago, she remembers the contrast of her quiet office being disturbed by her loud broken moans coming from her widened lips as your pillowy mouth has been tightly latched on her leaky cunt for the past hour, your jaw hurt but you didn’t care since you love her taste as much she loves yours.

Your forehead is lightly coated in sweat from the lost time you’ve spent on your knees, while your ass is stuck out and lightly colored pink from the spanking she enjoyed dishing out to you earlier.

She’d have you snuck in after hours by her most trusted guards, She can now easily recognize your speedy footsteps “discreetly” rushing down the echoey hallway by the clinking that comes the designer shoes she’d send you as a ‘thanks’ for your hard work. She’s already wet, daydreaming about what the night has to offer, she can see it now. You both slick with sweat taking turns making each other cum again and again.

She’s so hungry for you, that she doesn’t even have the patience to start your routine of normal small talk. Or even start by telling you how sexy you look in the skimpy lace dress you picked out for her to take off, she simply slams the door shut and pushes you against it immediately finding the waistband of your underwear, dipping her desperate finger to toy with your throbbing cunt.

“You miss me?” she teases under her breath, earning a sloppy nod from you. She drops to her knees pulling your thin panties down your long soft legs and throws them aside while you bunch up your dress to look down at her, she grabs your leg slinging it over her shoulder.

“Not used to seeing me on my knees huh? you get special treatment tonight hun” Her voice is laced with arousal. She wastes no time before diving into your hungry cunt and latching her mouth on your raised clit — sucking and licking the bud, she ignores your whines and continues to press her face into you more, becoming pussy drunk from your aroma.

She pulls back to look up at your messy state and meets your drowsy eyes with her starved ones, her pink lips covered with your slick. She motions you to bend down to suck on the two fingers she has held up so she can use them to move your wetness around before thrusting them inside your tightness to be greeted by your warmth.

She continues to ignore your wails and starts fucking you faster, drinking in the feel of you tightening around her digits, the lewd sounds of your sopping cunt being stuffed relentlessly by her snug fingers makes her cunt drip. Your slick begins to trickle down her working hands as she greedily licks the trail up, ending up back at your raised clit that’s poked up from between your glistening folds.

Her warm lips wrap around your clit once more earning a pitchy whimper from you, her mean taunting eyes cutting back at you as her movements intensify.

Pummeling her pumping fingers inside of you, repetitively hitting the soft spongy spot lodged in your squirming cunt.

Her sucking intensifies, the speed of her fingers drive you crazy as you begin to sluggishly thrash against the thick white door your body is pushed against, your hand begins to wonder from its current spot on your hard nipples and finds its way into her thick hair — lightly pulling on it as your pointy heel slightly digs into her back, gaining a deep growl from her.

It all became too much. The pounding from her fingers, her mouth latched on your clit sucking hard, and the sound of your drenched cunt filling the room drove you over the edge. Your cunt begins to spasm around her — you feel her smirking against you, your cries become louder and she takes no initiative to quiet you down.

Your vision goes blurry and your knees slightly dip as you climax, her movements slow down but don’t completely stop —letting you ride your orgasm out, your body still slightly jerking as you’re still coming back down to normal. Your grip on her hair softens as she pulls her fingers out, tasting her girl on them before standing up with a proud grin on her face.

She pulls a handkerchief out of her all-black suit to wipe your residue off her face. She grabs your jaw and forces it to open with her thumb, stuffing the cloth in your mouth.

“Bend over the desk” she firmly spits out, your legs still weak from the rough play she previously displayed on your cunt with no mercy. You wobble over to her desk trying to ignore the feeling of your cum smudged between your legs, you can feel her staring while you do as you're told — bending over her dark wooden desk.

Your tongue gently toys with the cloth lodged in your mouth in anticipation, you hear the sound of her dress pants being unzipped and kicked off amongst ripping and clicks. Your hands begin to instinctively pull your dress up to have it pool by your waist, then find themselves behind your back waiting for her next move. You feel her come up behind you, slowly rubbing your ass with her soft hands before pulling it further apart — prodding her index finger at your soaked hole once more.

“Gooood” she praises, and without teasing she pushes in making you widen your legs even more, your whines become muffled by the makeshift gag which only intensifies in pitch as she slips her index finger out and adds her second finger, scissoring them to stretch you out.

Your legs grow weaker from pleasure, feeling that familiar build in the pit of your stomach. She gently pulls her fingers from you as you feel the tip of a condom that’s placed on her fake cock at your entrance, you begin to wonder how many nameless working girls she fucked with it.

The jealous thought is shoved from your fucked out brain as she doesn’t even give you any time to get used to the size of her cock before fully thrusting it into your soaked cunt, “Fuck” she whimpers behind you.

The feeling of her cock easily slipping in and out of you as she begins to slam harder into you, your ass meeting the base of her strap just riles her up even more.

The gentle knocking of her clit against the strap makes her more wet than she has been all night, she looks down at your hands behind your back as you lay over her desk getting fucked out by her.

She takes in the sight of your face contorting in pleasure while the cloth gag shyly peaks out from your mouth, taking one of her hands to grab yours that's placed on your back and her other by your face to add more force behind her thrusts.

You love being fucked senseless like this by her, your eyes can’t help but roll over as the squelching from your cunt is the loudest thing in the room.

Only she can fuck you like this.

You feel yourself leaking onto her desk below you and you can’t help but smirk at the messiness from tonight's activities, she bends her mouth down to your ears while her thrusting doesn’t slow down not one bit. God you love this.

She whispers in your ear about how good you are at taking her cock, she praises and mocks you before asking if you want to cum. You desperately nod and whine as she somehow starts to pound into you harder and faster than she’s done all night, you hear her breathing pick up as her little whimpers grow louder at your ear. This speeds your orgasm up as you can tell hers isn't far behind.

The tight coil in your stomach starts to build up with a burn as you can feel yourself close to another promised orgasm, you let out one last cry of pleasure before cumming hard around her.

Your tight cunt clamping and gushing around her cock as she’s cumming with you, you feel her hips stutter as her climax fills her senses. She thrusts a few more times before completely pulling out of you. You weakly moan out at the empty feeling.

You lay there for a second before feeling her mouth behind you fixed on your cunt again, cleaning you up. She pulls away and stands back up “You did good” she lipped, her voice still breathy from cumming.

She turns you around to take in your disordered state of watery eyes, and slight drool swimming in the corner of your mouth. ‘Pretty’ she thinks to herself. She gently pulls you from the desk and takes the makeshift gag out of your mouth, tossing it aside to kiss you.

This takes you back as this isn’t something she does very often, you both tiredly moan into each other's mouth before she pulls back to look over your shoulder at her desk. You turn to see what she’s looking at and see a small patch of your arousal on it.

“Lick. it. up.” she teasingly said, you voluntarily walked back over to the spot you previously lied on – doing what she instructed. Licking up your liquids, which came with a hint of embarrassment, ‘there’s so much’ you think to yourself, you can feel her brown-eyes gaze burning a hole through you.

After the spot is licked clean you find yourself back on your feet waiting for any more instructions she has to give, she puts her pants back on and puts away her toy and you can’t help but watch her walk to her black chair behind her “tidy” desk she just fucked you on, as she-man spreads before patting her now dressed thigh.

You confidently stride to sit on her leg as she pulls out her checkbook and metal black and gold pen and begins to write your payment for tonight's events, part of you wants to tell her that it isn't necessary and that these past nights that you spend with her no longer feel like work and you love how she makes you feel.

But the other part of you knows that she’s not one for having girls stick around, she likes to have them in and out. You’re the only one she’s ever had repetitively. The second she gets an inkling that they have feelings, they end up never seeing her again.

As someone in her political position, these paid nightly pursuits would destroy her career, so you quietly sink into yourself while watching her write out commas and numbers – forcing any pining after her to quiet down inside you.

She rips the check out with a tight-lip smile, you look at the long roll of numbers and stand up – walking over to put it in the pocket of the long black coat you came in with. You hear her punch in numbers on her black phone on her desk calling for her guards to come and pick you up.

She hangs up with a click before walking over to take you to the door she had previously fucked you against. She helps you put your coat on before giving you away to her guards, the familiar sound of your heels clinking against the white marble floors of the hallway fills her ears once more, as she dreadfully watches you walk away from her.

Again.

A/n: Very nervous to post this but thank you for reading. Pls reblog if you enjoyed it!

[rositaslabyrinth]

Tough love - Soldier boy

Soldier boy x female!reader

You have been really pissing Ben off, disobeying orders, causing trouble, etc. Ben decides that he needs to use his frustration and anger towards your punishment.

Content warnings : Rough sex, punishment, emotional frustration, domination, degradation, overstimulation, raw intimacy

Word count ; 1,945

Minors PLEASE do not interact!!

You’ve been pushing Soldier Boy’s buttons all night.

You know it. He knows it. But you can’t help yourself. There’s something about the way he takes everything so seriously, so rigid, that makes you want to test him—just to see how far you can go before he snaps.

Tonight, though, you may have pushed him a little too far.

You’re sitting across the room, arms crossed, watching him pace, the tension thick in the air. It started with a simple disagreement—something trivial, really—but you don’t back down, and neither does he. His jaw clenches, his eyes narrow, and you know the moment he’s had enough.

“Are you done?” he asks, his voice low, dangerous.

You just smirk. “Not even close.”

That’s when his patience finally breaks. He strides toward you in a few long steps, grabbing you by the wrist, yanking you up off the chair. Your breath hitches, but you don’t say a word.

“Enough with the games,” he growls, his grip tight on your wrist, pulling you toward the bed. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, feel his anger rising with every step. But you’ve seen this side of him before—the side that needs to take control, to remind you of who’s in charge.

“You’ve been pissing me off all night,” he murmurs, a dark edge to his voice. “And you’re gonna learn that there’s a price to pay for that.”

Before you can react, he pushes you down onto the bed, his hands moving quickly to strip you of your clothes. There’s no tenderness in his movements—just frustration, urgency. It’s like he needs to erase whatever’s been building up inside of him.

He rips your shirt off, then your pants, leaving you completely exposed beneath him. His eyes darken as he looks down at you, but there’s something else there, something that’s not just anger—desire, need. The frustration he’s been holding onto for so long is finally spilling out.

“Maybe this will teach you,” he mutters, his voice low, dripping with lust. He grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand while the other moves down between your legs, feeling how wet you are for him despite everything.

You gasp as his fingers tease over your sensitive skin, moving slow, deliberate, making you ache.

“You think you can keep teasing me like this?” he asks, his voice rough. “Think you can keep getting away with it?”

You open your mouth to speak, but he silences you, kissing you hard, swallowing any words you might have said. His lips are hungry, almost desperate, as he kisses you harder than before, his tongue demanding.

“Answer me,” he growls against your lips, his hand still holding you down as his body presses into yours.

You whimper. “No… I didn’t think—”

Before you can finish, he’s inside you—hard and fast, filling you completely in one swift motion. You gasp, your body instinctively clenching around him as he begins to move, thrusting deep, each one harder than the last.

“Didn’t think what?” he demands, his pace relentless. “Didn’t think I’d put you in your place?”

You can’t even respond—your head is spinning, your body caught between the roughness and the overwhelming pleasure. The bed creaks beneath you with every thrust, and you can hear his breath, shallow and ragged, as he pushes into you again and again.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “You’re so damn tight. Don’t think I won’t remind you who’s in charge.”

He lets go of your wrists, his hands moving to your hips, slamming you down against him harder. You gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pounds into you, each thrust so deep you can barely breathe.

The room is filled with the sound of his skin slapping against yours, the air thick with desperation, frustration, and need. His grip on your hips tightens as he forces you to meet each of his thrusts, making you feel every inch of him.

“You think you can get away with messing with me?” he growls, his voice dark with pleasure as his pace never falters. “Think you can push my buttons and get nothing in return?”

His thrusts become more frantic, more desperate, and you can feel him losing control, just as much as you are. You’re already so close to the edge, your body burning with need.

“Tell me you’re sorry,” he demands, his voice sharp as he looks down at you.

You can barely form words, your breath hitching with every movement. “I’m sorry,” you manage to gasp out, your head spinning. “I didn’t mean it.”

He slams into you again, his body tense, but there’s a softness in his gaze now—almost like he needed this, needed to hear you say it.

“Good girl,” he mutters, his pace never slowing. The words only push you further, your orgasm building, that tight knot in your stomach growing.

Finally, with one last deep thrust, he comes inside you, his body jerking as he releases a groan of satisfaction. His grip on your hips loosens, and he collapses beside you, both of you breathless, your bodies still trembling.

You both lie there, trying to catch your breath, the weight of what just happened still hanging in the air between you. You’re both exhausted, but there’s something in the way Soldier Boy’s gaze lingers on you—something that tells you he’s not quite done yet.

You can feel it before he even moves. His hand grips your wrist again, yanking you into a sitting position, pulling you toward him with force. His chest is still rising and falling rapidly, but there’s no softness in his eyes, no sign of the tender side that had surfaced just a moment ago.

“You think it’s over?” he growls, his hand firmly gripping your chin as he forces you to look up at him. The edge of his anger is still there, sharper now, like it’s never fully been released. “You think I’ll just let you walk away after that?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you shake your head, knowing exactly where this is going.

He’s not done punishing you. He wants more. And somewhere deep inside, you know you deserve it.

Ben drags pulls you back up, this time pushing you onto your hands and knees, your body exposed beneath him. He takes his time, letting his hands roam over your back, your waist, your ass—teasing, but with that same, unrelenting energy.

“You want to push my buttons, huh?” His voice is low, deep, dripping with something dangerous. “Think you can get away with it?”

You don’t answer. You don’t think you can. But you don’t need to.

He slaps your ass—hard. You yelp in surprise, the sting burning into your skin, but it makes your body react in a way you can’t ignore. It feels right.

Another slap. Your breath hitches, but this time, you’re starting to feel the heat building in your core. You want more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his hand sliding between your legs, finding your sensitive spot again with a deft touch. He’s not being gentle now, his fingers pressing harder, rougher. “You want this, don’t you? Want me to break you.”

You bite your lip, trying to stay quiet. He presses harder, making your body tremble with the force of his touch. “Tell me,” he demands, his voice sharp. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you gasp, your head dropping as you feel the need building again.

He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating in his chest. “I bet you do.” His hand moves to your waist, pulling you up onto your knees, your back against his chest. His voice is low, almost a growl. “You wanted to test me, so now you’re gonna pay.”

He moves swiftly now, spinning you back around and pushing you back onto the bed. He hovers over you, his eyes dark with lust and something else—something that’s been buried beneath the surface, waiting for a chance to break free.

“You wanted me to teach you a lesson, right?” His hand moves between your legs again, but this time, he doesn’t let you feel any relief. Instead, he teases you, pushing you just to the edge, only to pull away.

“Don’t make me say it again,” he warns, his tone harsh, his hands pinning your wrists down above your head.

You moan, your body aching for him, for more. “Please,” you beg, your voice trembling. “Please, Ben, don’t stop.”

His smirk returns, and then he’s sliding into you once more, slow at first, like he’s savoring it, letting the tension build again.

“I’m not stopping,” he mutters against your ear. “Not until you learn what happens when you mess with me.”

The way he moves now is calculated—deliberate, punishing, each thrust deeper than the last, the power he’s putting behind it leaving you gasping. He grips your wrists tighter, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps as he picks up the pace.

You can’t think, can’t breathe—he’s taking everything from you, using you, and all you can do is feel.

Your body betrays you, though, betraying the act. The pressure in your core builds again, and this time, you can’t hold it in. You want this, you want him to keep going, even though you can’t keep your thoughts straight.

“I don’t think you’ve had enough yet,” he murmurs, and with that, his pace quickens, harder, faster, more brutal.

You come again, your body clenching around him, a mix of frustration and relief flooding through you. But even as you fall apart, he doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t stop.

His hand slides between your legs once more, rubbing at your sensitive clit, pushing you through it, overstimulating you until you can’t tell where one orgasm ends and the next begins.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice hoarse as his movements become more frantic. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe, your voice trembling from the intensity. “I’m yours, Ben. Please, don’t stop.”

With a final, almost feral growl, he thrusts deep, coming inside you as his body trembles with the release, his grip on you tightening as he holds you down.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. The tension in the room slowly dissipates, and the air is heavy with both relief and something else—something you both needed.

But instead of pulling away, he’s still there, his body still pressed against yours, his eyes dark and unrelenting. “You didn’t really think that was enough, did you?”

Before you can respond, he pulls out and flips you over onto your stomach, pushing you down against the bed, holding you in place. He’s not done. He’s not anywhere close to done.

“You’re gonna take this,” he growls, his voice rough, his hands moving between your legs again. “And you’re gonna remember who’s in charge next time you think about testing me.”

He enters you again, no mercy, his thrusts brutal and fast, making you moan loudly with every movement. The bed creaks under him as he drives into you, using you to satisfy his frustration, pushing you past any sense of exhaustion.

Your body can’t keep up with him, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care. He’s determined to make sure you never forget this moment.

When he’s finally done, his body still heavy over yours, you’re left breathless and trembling beneath him. There’s no softness in his touch, only the weight of his dominance lingering in the air.

“Don’t ever forget who’s in charge here,” he mutters against your ear, his voice cold but full of a possessive need that makes your head spin.

Liz talks : first soldier boy fic guys and let me tell yall this has been sitting in my tumblr drafts FOR WEEKKKSSSS but I’ve finally felt comfortable enough to post it lmaoo (me and my insane posting habits I need a schedule BAD) so here yall go!! Any and all type of feedback is appreciated <3

Tag list : @deansbbyx , @nymphet-quenn , @juicifeur , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel

If you want to be tagged in any future works of mine please check out THIS post !!

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

BLACK NOIR wants you overstimulated and fucked out. When you’re as mute as he is, he calls it a win. Any choked, quiet sounds that emit from your mouth is a fucking symphony to his ears because he knows you’re too stupid to think of anything else to say.

When you’re clutching onto the sheets, drooling all over the covers from your gaping mouth suspended in mind-numbing pleasure while he rails you from behind; when you bury your little face into the mattress to scream, louder with each thrust, as he steadies you with a glove on your tailbone: He knows he’s got you. You’re his.

He picks up his foot to settle it on the edge of the bed, standing behind you tucked between your legs, plowing into you from an angle a few degrees difference and you’re fucking writhing. The sensational friction is all too much to bear, the wet chorus of your pussy nearly as loud as your mewling. He presses down on the dimples of your backside, yanking you back onto his cock, only to bounce your ass on his hips with the force of his push. He’s fucking juggling you on him, and all you can do is bang your fist against the mattress to release some of that energy.

You wish you could tell him that it’s so much, almost too much. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head while your cunt’s being bullied into submission. Fat cock drives into your insides with reckless abandon and it hurts in such a good way. A warning hand reaches behind you, signaling him to slow down.

But he knows if you really wanted him to slow down, you wouldn’t be laying down taking it like the slut you are.

[muldermuse]

i know for a fact that butcher kisses any stray tears that roll down your cheeks when he’s fucking you too good

[jollyhunter]

♡ MILKSHAKE FOR TWO ♡

LOVERBOY ! SOLDIER BOY / BEN x fem!Reader [Happy Valentine’s Day!!]

WARNING Fluff, Angst (bearable), Smut with plot - NSFW - MDNI!; fingering, a lil' spankin', biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it before u tap it!), softdom!Ben (gasp!), faking orgasm, Ben reprimanding you, aftercare (Ben's way lol), strong language, basically just a general warning for Soldier Boy, no use of Y/N

⋆ ˚｡⋆ NOTE Okay sweethearts, this is my first time writing for Soldier Boy so please be lenient with me. 😭 Getting this man's colorful speech feel right as a non-native English is a real challenge lmao

After reading the Loverboy!Ben Headcanons by @lovedahlia I finally found the courage to pick this idea up again! And thanks @zepskies Coffee Shop Hadcanons for inspiring me with the sweet ending!! (and the pussy drink 💀)

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SUMMARY The lovey-dovey atmosphere around Valentine's Day did little to ease your ache. To put it blunt; Lately your love life's been... let's say dull. Since for whatever reason getting off was turning out to be frustratingly difficult. Or more like, impossible; You just outlast any man in bed.

Well, except maybe for the cocky bastard of a supe seated across of you… Who you’d just made a bet with.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS ~7.4k [my longest fic so far!? 😭]

♡ MILKSHAKE FOR TWO ♡

One, two, three, five - now another orgasm. You lost count. He keeps rocking his hips as you ride another one of your highs out, his cock throbbing inside you -

“Is it hot?” Ben’s gravely voice throws you right off your imaginary man, eyes snapping up at him with a look of panic and confusion.

The warm scent of weed wafts through the musky air and hits your nose, reminding you of your situation; Right. You’re here to ‘babysit’ Soldier Boy while he’s meticulously rolling joints and taking a swig of his beer every now and then.

“W-what?” Your thumb quickly swipes away the fanfic on your phone’s screen, feigning innocence.

“The picture of your boyfriend’s dick.” He replies. The motel’s dim light frames the intense gaze occasionally drifting toward you, a teasing smile tugging at his beard when he continues. “Can’t ignore the way you’ve been practically eye-fucking that thing for the past six joints.” He jerks his chin at the phone now tightly clasped under your hands likes it’s holding all your sins in one place.

“What- that’s not- no- what the hell.” You stutter, while you’re secretly relieved that his mind took a different direction.

“Hm,” he grunts, unconvinced, his eyes briefly closing. You tense up in the couch when his elbows slide off the table, now resting on his spread legs, his head tilting your way. “What’s it then, huh? Internet?”

Ah yes, you were looking at internet. Hughie had mentioned the word to him some days ago, but no one seems to have had the patience – or guts – to properly explain it to him. You smirk to yourself, but keep the mocking comment back. You didn’t want to risk him snatching your phone away again, as he had done many times before just to annoy you.

“Yeah, internet. It’s like a – a library, but digital, you know?” You try to explain. Your hands casually let the phone disappear in your jeans’ back pocket while you make sure to keep the discussion going. “How do you even know about dickpics? My gramps sure as hell wouldn’t know.”

“Oh fuck off.” He throws you a half-arsed scowl over the edge of his canted beer, “I basically invented it. The concept of showing off your dick to your girl ain’t that goddamn new-fangled.” He sneers the word ‘new-fangled’, his free hand waving dismissively in your direction.

The frown on his lips shifts into a crooked smile at what seems to be a particularly fond memory popping up in his mind. Cute, it suits him.

“I once had Warhol print my dick in the colors of the American flag. Surprised Countess with one on every fuckin’ wall.”

“Wow.” You can’t help but shake your head and crack a laughter at the mental image. “I bet she was ecstatic.”

“Oh you can bet my nutsack. That night we fucked like bunnies. Skeeted those paintings. Redecorated the whole damn thing.” He grins like a proud boy before his fond smile suddenly flips, “Now the bitch’s gargling dirt.”

The air thickened and your chest tightens. Only the sound of his fingers briefly strangling the neck of his beer bottle fills the tense silence in the room.

Your eyes drift to the ground, scrambling for something to say to steer the conversation away from his dead ex - but he beats you to it.

Ben has let out a heavy sigh after he took a swig, the beer bottle now tipped in your direction.

"So. No boyfriend then, huh?" He muses before he tilts his head, his lips curling into a smug smirk, “Gonna spend your national fuck day all alone with a pillow between your legs?”

“I- I’m not spending my - as you call it so colourfully - ‘national fuck day’ with a pillow between my legs. Thank you very much.”

“No? Not gonna rawdog it while you’re thinking of me?”

Your eyes widen at that wild accusation - not that he was wrong about the latter assumption. But you certainly wouldn’t let him know that.

Your cheeks flush slightly and you quickly force your parted lips into a firm, tight line. “For your information. I’ll not spend my day all sad and pathetic home alone but will be going out to Jerry’s Coffeehouse and treat myself with an extra large matcha milkshake with chocolate chips and loads of vanilla syrup. And it’ll be my best fucking Valentine’s day.”

His eyebrow pops up at that, his sharp eyes observing you for a moment as if he’s considering something, his expression a mixture between amusement and something else which you can’t quite read.

After a moment his lips quirk, voice confident, but there’s also a hint of curiosity hidden behind it, “Ah, that’s a code word for you rounding the bases, hm? Get yourself a sweet fuckin’ home run. All Turn-Down and the whole nine yards.”

“What? No – agh - Not everything’s about sex, Ben.” You groan and drag a hand down your face, trying your best to hide the tinge of bitterness in your voice. “Unlike me, I bet you wouldn’t survive a day without jerking off if I wasn’t cockblocking you with my mere presence.”

“And I bet I could ruin you real fast if you didn’t act like a little tight-folded nun around me all the time.”

Your breath catches in your throat for a moment. In all these weeks, Ben never made a move on you. Not even a single attempt at flirting with you. To the point that - even though you knew you shouldn’t - you started to wonder whether it was your looks or your personality you’d have to blame for.

So, yes, you have indeed acted rather, let’s say, ‘reserved’ around Ben.

But that wasn’t because you were appalled by the thought of what he could do to you with you sprawled out beneath him, all open and inviting. Quite the contrary. It was because you liked the thought, but also didn’t want to fall for yet another man who’d just use you for his pleasure.

So you made sure to keep him at an arms length.

“Jesus, you’re so damn vulgar.” You utter, your back slumped against the couch’s armrest while you try your best to act unaffected by his words, “ You kiss a lady with that dirty mouth of yours?”

“What’s the deal with you chicks? I ain’t friggin' Cary Grant, y’know?” He takes a messy swig of his beer and briefly wipes his beard with the back of his hand, “Y’all so damn sensitive.”

“Yeah, I wish.” You grumble, the words slipping your lips before you can give them a second thought.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t believe me, sweetheart?”

“You know what? Yeah.” You retort out of nowhere, purely driven by all the pent-up frustration of the past months. Straightening up, you proceed to make it worse in such a confident tone which even surprises yourself, “I bet my ass that I could outlast you in bed.”

It was frustrating. And felt embarrassing. Really. It didn’t help that you tried to sell it as if it was an achievement worth an oscar.

"Well, that just proofs it then."

"Proofs what?"

"That you're a wuss-fucker. Just some pathetic fucking dicks dippin' in there." Ben jerks his head towards the spot hidden between your tightly crossed legs and he snorts in amusement at your grimace. "What? ‘Tis a real shame’s all I’m sayin’. I mean, what real man doesn't make sure his girl gets off first.” He leans back and sneers against the mouth of his beer bottle, “'S pathetic, really."

"Yeah, right." you roll your eyes, your voice tighter, "'Cuz I bet you're such a gentleman in bed. But you can't proof shit."

“Oh you’re on.” He quickly sets down the bottle and flashes his cocky grin at you, his voice dropping an octave to hit that tingling spot inside you, “I’ll have you cum so damn hard, you’ll be screamin’ and kickin’ while I hold ya down. And guess what, sweetheart…”

He pushes off the chair, his large frame looming over you before he bends down to your eye-level, his voice dipping into a low, deep gravelly tone, “I ain’t gunna let ya move a single inch… and have you take it like a good fuckin’ girl.”

Silence. Only the soft gulp of your last sense of self-control getting forced down your throat cuts through the thick air between you.

He holds your gaze, a playful smile spread across his lips when he straightens up again, his voice nonchalant. “‘Course, only if you want.”

“I do.” The answer came faster than you could even process it.

He looks back down at you, a flash of genuine surprise crossing his eyes before he covers it up with a smug expression, “Oh yeah?”

His words were like the flick of a switch.

Next moment clothings were flying across the room, partially torn as neither of you had the patience to get them off properly. The heat between you skyrocketed, heavy breathing filling your ears in tandem with intense drumming of your heart. Soft golden rays peek through the shutters, their light bouncing off his darkened eyes and casting shadows of wild, fervent bodies moving through the room like a tempest.

God you felt so pent up - it was driving you mad. The desperate need for relief, for reaching that sweet peak of ecstasy. It clouds your mind, has your will to think straight completely subdued.

Ben doesn’t seem to be in much more control either, his hands flying across your body, like he doesn’t know what to explore first. He pushes you up against the wall, the force deliberately kept to a minimum. His nose draws a line across your shoulder, inhaling your scent like a drug, all the way up your neck until he exhales again, the hot breath pressed against your skin under your jaw.

“Fuck me – you’re intoxicatin’, woman.” He rasps out, his voice raw and full of barely contained need.

Your breath comes out shaky, head tilted to the side without a second thought. “Ben,” you say his name close to a whine, your mind handing over the reigns to him, “Please don’t stop.”

“Won’t-” he mutters against your skin, his voice muffled by the trail of kisses, “’M not gonna stop until you’ve cum.” His teeth skim along your pulse point and for a moment you feel like your legs give in. But he quickly steadies you, his large hands moving down your sides to hold onto your hips with a firm grip. “Promise.” He adds hoarsely, some of your skin now tugged between his teeth as he starts to leave love bites in his wake. “We got a bet goin’, after all.”

Your body’s now moving on instinct and for only one purpose. Your need, your heat, it’ll keep you going, you know it. No matter how long you’ll have to pant like a racing horse, no matter how much you’ll regret it the next day when you’ll feel stiff and aching at places you didn’t even know you had muscles.

It all doesn’t matter right now. It is all just you and him. The world reduced to his strong arms wrapped around your fragile frame, his muscles flexing as he lifts you up, and his world reduced to your legs wrapping around his hips, your aching core pressed up against his bulging boxers.

Your lips collide with his, their first meeting sending a bolt of pleasure through your body. Your mind goes hazy, your legs tighten around his hips and your hands hang onto his shoulder in an attempt to hold him close.

Your heads swivel, mouths working passionate. But to your surprise, Ben still keeps it slow, savouring every bit of your lips dancing around his. His tongue’s tasting the inside of your mouth as he swallows your moans and fills it with his own groans. Teeth gently pull at your lower lip before he finally breaks the kiss, to give you the chance to catch your breath.

You pant against him, your lips burning from the stubbles but still lingering there. You suddenly feel the rest of your body again, a shudder running down your spine, right to your aching core.

That’s when you notice how wet your inner thighs are, the slick coating your skin and folds. Ben licks his lips, the scent of your undeniable arousal filling his senses. He moves you on his hips, pinning you further against the wall to hold you in place with one hand while the other trails over the bump of your hipbones, dipping down between your legs.

“Christ on a Stake. You’re so fuckin’ pent up. What did those wusses do to let you leave like this?” He groans, fingers coating in your slick as he runs them down your inner thigh.

Your eyes briefly flutter closed, your hips bucking against him with the need for some friction already. “Please, I- Ah-fff- ” You mutter, your words cut short by a terribly needy whine when Bens fingertips brush across your clit.

“Yeah, yeah, calm the hell down” he chuckles, his lips back to suck a red mark at your neck, “’M gonna take care of that needy pussy of yours, dontcha worry.”

You nod, soft moans slipping your red puffy lips as he assaults every inch of skin he can reach. Your eyes widen with a yelp when you suddenly feel yourself getting heaved up high and your limbs flail uncontrollably in a panic.

“Hey- stop struggling darlin’, I don’t wanna hurt you.” He orders gruffly, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips to keep you safely in his grip. With one swift move he lifts you high enough for your legs to drape over his shoulders on each side, his palms now wrapping around the underside of your thighs to keep you pinned between the wall and his head. In moments like these you could feel a shiver run down your back, as you’d just been reminded again of the inhuman power imbalance between you two. Fuck - he could snap you in two if he’d want to.

“Now that’s a view I could get used to,” He growls, his lips curled into a hungry smile at the sight of your dripping hole, all open and inviting, and right on his eye-level. “So damn needy. ‘N so damn beautiful.” He muses, ignoring the increased panting of yours against the top of his head while you’re murmuring his name like a prayer.

His grip tightens as he pushes his head between your thighs, his hot breath against your clit sending sparks of fire through your body. He digs right in, eagerly swiping his tongue between your folds, swirling around your clit, teasing your entrance with slow deliberate slaps of his tongue. You start to squirm and moan in response, the friction like a pain-killer to your aching core.

“Hold still damn it,” he orders, the rumbling of his voice against your folds sending shivers up your spine. You whimper and his intensity increases in response. He groans when your fingers tangle up in his hair and your fingernails scrape at his scalp with frantic motions.

“Fffuck- please, please, please don’t stop, don’t stop-” You plead in weak whimpers as you can feel his beard burn your sensitive skin with every drag of his tongue up your folds, the prickling pain mixing with your pleasure. Meanwhile the muscles in his arms flex to hold you still, keep you pinned up high against the wall and to make sure you don’t accidentally tumble off his shoulders.

His lips close around your clit and he starts to suck terrible whines out of you, your legs fighting his hands under his onslaught. Your pleasure begins to coil tight, your body twitches and your fingers claw at his long hair for the following minutes - but it never snaps. How the fuck does it still not snap?

A whine of protest leaves your lips when he suddenly pulls his head back. You watch his glistening face from half lidded eyes, your chest heaving, some of your sweet juice caught in his beard.

“Damn, darlin’, you’re a tough case, huh?” He chuckles, the tongue swiping his lips to savour your taste again with a low praising groan, “Fuck- Marilyn Monroe’s a dumpster next to you. You taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

A gasp slips your lips when he decides to haul you over his shoulder and with three long strides crosses the room over to the bed when a SMACK has you yelp up. The skin of your asscheek reddens where his hand just swatted you and he chuckles. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

You struggle and squirm in protest but it’s no use, his tight grip around your waist keeps you on his shoulder, facing the other way with your nice bum exposed to him. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere.” His hand swats your other asscheek this time and he laughs at your needy whine, his tone amused as you can practically hear the smirk playing on is lips, “I haven’t even started.”

His voice sounds raspy, but his tone tells you he’s thrilled, as if the fact that you didn’t shatter from his touch yet, has him enthralled. After all, Soldier Boy was used to things being easy for him, to succeed with half an effort, so real challenges were a rare case for him. And your stubbornly high resistance to falling over the edge seemed to be just that.

Next moment Ben bends down, dropping you gently onto the bed before the mattress dips down under his additional weight when he crawls on top of you. His hands roam your body, groping the soft flesh at your hips, your thighs, roughly massaging your breasts as he pinches your nipples between his fingers.

You start to squirm and tremble from need, your fingernails scraping at his taut muscles that box you in from all sides. “Just hold still for me, yeah? Just lemme do the work…” he husks out, voice low and dangerous with promise that sends a shiver down your spine.

He leans in and breaths hot and low against the shell of your ear while you feel his hand trail down between your shaking legs. “Will get this needy pussy wrecked and all mine…”

You hum into his shoulder when he pushes his index finger past your slick folds, and he takes that as a cue that you need more, so his middle finger quickly follows. This time he manages to draw a soft moan from your lips, your arms wrapping around his neck where you start to kiss and nibble his skin. “You greedy little thing…” he growls, his lips quirked into a smirk.

He starts to pump them, his fingers curling to hit your spongy spot that earns him at least a little louder moan. “Please,” you start to beg, “I need more, Ben… please-” He doesn’t wait and jams a third finger inside your tight cunt before he flicks his thumb over the hood of your swollen clit, the pace of his hand slapping loudly against your cunt increasing. The stretch of his fat fingers filling you up, rubbing your g-spot and scissoring, it all has your legs trembling, the coil in your stomach tightening again to the point where it just – flat lines.

Ben notices the frustration in your eyes and he leans in to press a sloppy kiss onto your damp forehead. His thumb rubs faster circles over your clit, his eyes locked onto your face when his impatience starts to mutter under his breath. "We got us a real stubborn pussy here, hm? You think everyone else is too much of a wuss to keep up with you, huh? Is that it? You need someone who can give as good as they get?"

“Fine” He grunts, pulling his fingers from your dripping hole, his voice gruff with irritated determination, “Looks like this’ a job for my dick. Gonna fuck you over that edge in no time.”

“Please.” You whine, your face buried in his broad shoulder. Your clit swollen, throbbing, tingling, every nerve of your body burning hot and leading down to that one single aching knot as your system was threatening to short-circuit your brain, just to get this damn bundle of nerves to finally erupt.

He quickly gets rid of his boxers, his thick cock free and fully erect. He grapples with your twitching legs, spreading them apart and pulling you back towards his hips where his pink tip pushes against your entrance. You stifle a mewl, your hips bucking instinctively as you need him. Need all of him.

Both of your groans collide between your lips when he snaps his hips and pushes his shaft all the way into your tight channel in one - unceremonious – go. He stills for a moment, his breath hot and heavy when it wafts against your face, “You good?”

His voice was low, a hoarse whisper between the two of you. You nod once again, a weak “yeah” tumbling off your lips. His hands move up to grip onto your hips like handles, his hips slowly starting to move.

You groan at the feeling of his thick pulsing length dragging down your soft walls before being jammed back in all the way up until he hits your cervix and he coaxes a whimper from you. His pace isn’t fast, but his thrusts are deep, each one well measured and deliberate.

“That’s it, you can take it… taking my cock so fuckin’ well...” He mutters against your skin, his tongue swiping across your salty skin.

When he starts to increase his force, your fingers dig into his skin and if it wasn’t for his indestructibleness, he was sure he’d have some nice and long claw marks of you down his back. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and cants your hips, getting an even deeper angle this way. Slouching noise fills the room, the sound of wet skin clashing together in time with your increasing moans and whines and his grunts and groans.

His hand suddenly reaches up to grab your chin, his eyes locking onto yours. "See, darlin'? I’ll have you fall apart beneath me soon enough… can't keep your pussy giving me that attitude, that's how you end up in a mess like this.” He mocks you with a teasing chuckle, “Getting the stuffing pounded out of you, all because you couldn't control that naughty mouth of yours and had to make a bet with me."

You just nod, the meaning of his words flying by your clouded mind. Your sole focus’ on your building pleasure, rapidly charging up your throbbing clit. Ben notices it too when your walls start to clamp down on his cock, every hard thrust forcing its way back in to keep the pleasure building.

“Fuck – you’re so tight – You gonna strangle my damn dick at this point.” He hisses, his fingers digging into your flesh again to pull your hips back and meet his thrusts.

“You close, darlin’?” Ben grunts above you.

There it is again. That embarrassing moment of silence. You would’ve sighed right now if it wasn’t for you being buried beneath Ben and his punctured thrusts knocking the air out of you.

Are you close? Your core’s on fire. Certainly. To the point where it hurts even. You feel your legs and feet tingling like white-noise is rushing through your blood, leaving every sensitive nerve in its wake going numb.

But still. You know you wouldn’t tip over. Stuck in that fucking uphill battle. It was just. Not. Enough. It never was nowadays.

The blatant lie sits on the tip of your tongue when Ben’s gruff voice suddenly cuts in.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare fake it.”

How - Your mind comes to a screeching halt.

You choke it back down. Cancel the act that was up next, your well-versed finale to the dull program you were used to.

Shit, he knows.

“N-no…” you confess under your breath. The sound of it weak and to your relief, lost between his heavy grunts.

Or so you think.

“What? You think I’m some spineless wuss who can’t get his girl off?” He punctures each word with a deep thrust as he keeps pounding you into the mattress, “Just tell me whatever the fuck you need me to do, I’m not gonna cry, Jesus Christ.” He continues to reprimand you in a firm tone, his voice holding a hint of disappointment.

You gasp, your breath gets stuck in your throat. No man has ever asked you this before. No one.

Ben suddenly stills, his green eyes locking with yours when his voice takes a serious tone, “You need me to be rougher, pretty girl? That it?”

Your breath hitches, your mind dizzy and clouded by his musky scent, the feeling of him inside you, above you, all around you - and the heat still burning between your legs, still not on that damn edge to your long chased relief.

He leans down next to your head to scrub his beard along your cheeks and up to your ear, “Just say the word,” he growls and you can practically see the smirk spread across his face by the way he sounds.

He knows. Fuck he knows you need more.

And yet he waits for your response, patiently, his body still hanging onto you with a tight grip while his hot breath wafts against the shell of your ear in short bursts like a countdown.

There’s a moment of tense silence, like the calm before a storm. A force that is waiting for you to invite it in, to let it wreck your temple.

“Y-yes, please,” Your voice’s trembling slightly from each puff of warm air that’s huffed from between his lips and smothered across your skin, sending a shiver down your back.

“Jackpot,” he hums, a satisfied expression on his face before his lips begin aimlessly placing kisses all over your face, as if trying to soothe your frustration. “Not gunna hold back anymore… gunna fuck you so long ‘n so hard you won’t be able to walk for the next days. You like that thought, hm?”

“Y—yeah- please – just don’t stop…” you admit with a needy whine, your legs twitching against his shoulders and your head tilted back while your hands start to fist the sheets in anticipation. You’d surely fall over the edge in the next minutes. You had to.

Little did you know, that you’d still be going for the next couple of hours.

You switched positions every time you felt how your clit was going numb from the overstimulation and the pent up energy. Ben’s bulky body kept working relentlessly, his power not faltering once, his pace never slowing down unless he noticed you needed a moment to catch your breath.

He’d be trapping you under him, ass high up in the air, back pressed down with one hand splayed across it, wrists somewhere buried in the pillows and pinned there roughly by his other hand as he slammed is cock against your cervix in a brutal pace.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he orders, his lips against the spot behind your ear and his long, stubby beard scraping your skin as his jaw moves, “I want to see your beautiful face when you rock that high the way you fuckin’ deserve.”

“Oh- Oh fuck- I- I’m close-“ you scream as you feel his hard tip punch your spongy walls like he’s trying to engrave himself into your every inch and his fingers meanwhile rubbing your clit sore. He roughly flips you over onto your back, his lips catching yours just in time when your walls flutter around him and finally, finally that sweet relief crashes down on you. Unexpected and intoxicating as your guttural moans get muffled by his mouth. “God- this- you, God-”

He pulls back, huffing a raspy laughter with a mock-offended tone, “God? I’m fuckin’ better.” He feels your cum coat his cock, your walls wrapping tightly around him. It takes all his will power to hold himself back, to not empty himself inside you. Not yet. Not when he’d promised you to keep going all night. “That’s it,” He plants a praising kiss onto your forehead, his gruff voice rumbling against your skin, “And now let’s hear it once more. Just for good measure.”

And he does. Fingers sink into your skin whenever he’d move you around, large hands holding you down, up, on top of him, against him, muscles working all around you while they would bend or push you into any position, effortlessly.

His superhuman strength overpowers you without even trying, but it feels like he’s only ever using as little as needed to get a reaction out of you. A good reaction. When he roughly flips you over again, pushes you into the mattress, pins your head to the sheets as you squirm and tremble under him, you notice his lips brush up against your ear more frequently, murmuring incoherent, soothing words. Like he’s following the urge to be closer to you. Making silent check-ins. Always making sure you’re not overwhelmed, making sure that those wines and yelps are the cause of pleasurable pain and nothing else. At last, you find yourself on top of him, straddling his hips, bouncing on his hard cock as you ride him like a bull. “What was that about you outlasting me, huh?” He taunts and mocks you in time with rough strokes along your exhausted gummiwalls, “‘bout taking whatever I can throw at you, hm?” He snaps his hips up to meet you halfway when you yelp a short admission, “O-okay, you win!”

His lips curl into a smug smile, “What was that? You gotta work that pretty mouth of yours. Gramps ears ain’t that good.” He pulls you down roughly, making you take him deeper with each thrust of his.

“Y-yar r-ah-iight!” You groan as you fall apart one more final time. Your walls flutter and this time he allows himself to let you pull him over the edge along you. His pulsing cock coating your insides with his warm cum. Your voice’s raspy from the harsh breaths you’ve sucked down your open mouth for the past hours.

You collapse to his chest, shaking from the waves of pleasure that rippled through your every fibre and the feeling of his warm seeds filling you up and dripping down his shaft and onto his skin. His arms wrap around your back to hold you close while he murmurs naughty words against the crown of your head.

While Ben had gotten himself a joint to smoke, you padded into the bathroom, getting yourself cleaned. “You doin’ good, darlin’?” He calls after you, loosley holding the joint between his lips as he props himself up against the bed’s headboard.

You return after a while, your body wrapped up in a towel as you make your way back to the bed and snuggle up to him. He drapes his arm lazily around your shoulder, pulling you closer so that your head rests on his firm chest.

“You really had to work for it… huh?” You break the silence with a low mutter, feeling some embarrassment creep up on you.

“You kiddin’?” His eyes snap down at you and he takes a drag of his joint before he continues, “Darlin’, you’ve got the drive of a bunny in heat. Taking my cock so fuckin’ well. Most tap out after the second round but you -“ he lets out a low whistle close to a hiss, “- you just keep goin’ all night – Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“Oh shush…” You giggle sheepishly.

“Just speaking the damn truth. You be proud of that, ya hear me?” He says in a firm voice, while he reaches up to stroke a damp hair out of your face.

You smile, feeling your chest tingle and your cheek warm up, “This was… this was unbelievable. You were amazing.”

He laughs and flashes a cocky grin down at you, “Told ya my dick would beat your pussy over that edge.“

You cringe inwardly at his choice of words, “That’s not what I meant. I’m not talking about your… your dick or your stamina. I’m talking about you.” You pause, his eyebrows knot together and you quickly add, "Like, non-physically."

He stares at you, nonplussed - then irritated. “Fuck me. You - you snort some of my shit, prissy little thing?”

“No, Ben-,” a soft, frustrated chuckle escapes your lips that makes his eyebrows twitch together again, “You - you are amazing.”

You repeat but this time tilt your head back to hold his gaze, like you’re pointing at the soul hiding behind those green orbs that stare back at you, while your fingers draw invisible circles on his arms.

Silence.

Ben’s sharp eyes are searching your face for clues, like he’s mentally going through every drug that could have led you to say something as ridiculous as that.

You smile in return. A genuine, honest smile. Aimed at him. And his mind short circuits for a moment.

A faint flash of something like a blush crosses his cheeks, but it is covered up the same moment with his usual gruff expression and an irritated scoff. “‘Course I’m fuckin’ amazin’. Besides that, I just wanted to win the bet.” His teeth flash at you between a cocky smirk. “And I proofed you damn wrong.”

Ah, there it is again, good ol’ Soldier Boy.

Walls and barb wire and mine field; all up and ready to defend that one and only fragile part of his indestructible body. Keeping it strapped down by some rush of power trip and waterboarded in his twisted idea of love.

You chuckle, knowingly. That damn soft smile on your lips again.

He stares down at you with an unreadable expression, like he’s fighting the urge to slap some sense into you for throwing such an inappropriate gesture his way. To him, it was infuriating, really. But thanks to that stupid curve dancing across your face, he now feels himself caught up in a whole new range of emotions.

You could have gotten up now and left. Like you were sure he expected you to. Probably one of the reasons he kept silent, his brows pulled low like a defensive shield against your gaze, his arm draped around your shoulders so awkwardly… ‘cuz he knew he wasn’t good at this. Aftercare. He’s practically just waiting for you to snap at him, and pull away without another good word. His eyes narrow further, almost provoking it now as he felt himself slowly crumble under your warm presence.

But none of these thoughts crossed your mind. Instead your fingers gently trace the frame of his hardened face that could’ve fooled anyone but you.

That speck of a blush had been more than enough reason to settle down further into his chest with a soft hum, “Mhm, you did win... Win-win.”

Mindless chattering carries the cozy atmosphere of Jerry’s Coffehouse, each table occupied by couples sharing desserts and passionate kisses. All except the one set under your arms, your fingers loosely holding onto the card before you drop it to the table in resignation.

The sweet scent of sugary sins whirls around your nose, intrusive, mocking you. Now that you are here, sitting in the middle of a room full of unfiltered, tooth-aching love all around you, it seems like your appetite has been spoiled for good.

Truth be told, you can’t entirely blame the lovestruck couples boxing you in like in a bully circle. The problem is much worse. You feel lonely. Not the usual lonely, but terribly lonely because you had something for a moment, something real special, and now it was gone again.

It feels like so many unspoken feelings still hang in the air. At least for you there are. You are pretty sure that Ben was more than happy about Butcher’s interruption just when you thought you’d seen a glimpse of something more beneath this scraggy hard shell of “Soldier Boy”.

You exhale heavily. Your eyes glued down to your empty hands.

Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? Your job to watch Soldier Boy was done. He’d moved on. It was over. After all, last night was just for some fun, right? Something to finally get you off, to feel so much more than-

You mentally kick yourself. Get your shit together and get back to your old life.

You fish out your phone from your pocket and open the fanfic from yesterday. With a heavy sigh you scroll down the blurry words, memories of your past night flashing across your inner eye – when a sudden noise almost has you drop your phone.

The coffee table rattles under your elbows as the opposite chair clatters into it under the force of a kick and the following screeching sound has some heads whirl around to watch the scene with raised eyebrows.

Whipped cream sploshes for a second as the large glass CLANGS down in front of you and hits the wooden surface with the force of a drunken man handling a beer bottle. You instinctively dodge back in your seat. Your eyes watch the green contents of it sway under the thick layer of chocolate sprinkled cream topping before your befuddled look darts up to meet him.

Ben slumps down across of you. His casual clothes almost could’ve fooled one to believe he’s a regular guy, if it wasn’t for his bulky frame hanging off the seat in all directions.

He looks a tad annoyed, but that was something you’d long become accustomed to. There was always something that pissed Ben off when you were around. Or someone for that matter. But mostly, it was just his resting face and you knew better than to take it personally.

“Couples get one pussy milk for two.” He states gruffly, ignoring all the faces turned his way now.

“…Ben? What the hell are you doing here?” You sputter, thrown off by the sudden whiff of musky smoke mixed with an unusual, intense, fresh and masculine smell… was that perfume that just hit your nose?

His stern expression melts into a flirtatious smile. This is new. “Hey sweetheart. Miss me yet?”

“How did you know I was here? - Wait- did you just say, for couples?”

“That’s what the sailor-hat-cum-gobbler back there said.” He boots back the chair next to you to kick up his legs while he continues with an annoyed grunt, but lacked any bite, “This green spew better be worth my damn money.”

You blink at him rapidly, and quite frankly, dumbfounded. Is that emotionally constipated man even aware of what he just said or-

“That’s what we are, innit?” He cuts you short, his voice as gravelly and confident as always.

But the way his green pupils glance up at you from the corner of his eyes, a thick strand of hair falling into his face when his head tilted away slightly, like a puppy afraid to get kicked… His emotions were subtle, a rare and fleeting moment, and anybody else might have dismissed it. But it told you so much more than he was willing to admit.

When your eyes flicker down to his hand twitching from his death grip on the arm rest, your chest tightens.

Oh my God. Ben was dead fucking serious.

“Don’t people usually first date?” You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

And to buy yourself some time as you try to grapple with a situation you had never expected to find yourself in.

In fact, you have pictured yourself in it ever since you stepped into that shabby damn motel room where he had locked eyes with you for the very first time.

His stern expression makes way for a raucous laughter, his voice booming across the small coffee in pride. “I think we’re past that point, love, after I’ve fucked you raw. For five fucking hours. That’s longer than any damn date I’ve ever had.”

“Jesus Christ - Ben - tune it down! Please.” You plead in a hushed voice, face flushed as you can sense all the curious eyes watching you both closely, like you’re part of a live performance. And a scandalous one on top.

“I don’t hear any complaints. Just stating the facts here, sweetheart.” He chuckles cockily and winks at you, clearly his full ego back in place again, “So it’s settled, then?”

“Uh- I - uh-,” you stumble over your words, your hands fidgeting and your head still reeling from the fact that he had just announced your new relationship status as if he’d made a decent marketing deal with Vought.

His eyebrows push together, that familiar look of impatience taking over his face as he tries to understand why you’re still hesitating. You swallow thickly, the lump in your throat blocking any chance to voice your inner struggles.

You visibly shrink under his intense gaze and your eyes sink to the table, unsure of what to do. You sense him move across of you and you half-expect him to either snark at you now or just simply get up and leave. Damnit, now you fucked up.

But instead he slides the XXL milkshake across the table until it bumps into your tightly clasped hands and your eyes dart up to meet his again. He searches your face, emerald eyes sharp, analysing, but motivated by genuine concern.

His calloused fingers slide off the glass to brush them against yours, gentle, almost hesitant. As if those very same fingers hadn’t groped and gripped your flesh all night like he wanted to leave his marks on every inch of your body.

His large hand moves to cover both of yours, muffling the fidgeting of your fingers with a calm and heavy presence, his actions a big contrast to his rumbling voice. “Hey, you still with me?” He husks out your name, his green eyes boring into yours, gauging your reaction.

Your breath hitches, he squeezes your hands, the tension eases. Ben’s grounding you.

“Yes.” You finally whisper with an affectionate smile, and the same moment his fingers twitch around your hands. “It’s settled.”

“Good.” He mutters to himself and his expression seems almost… relieved.

It’s this moment you realise something: Ben’s not been avoiding his usual flirty and cocky smiles because he didn’t like you or thought you weren’t worth a fling. But because you were more than a possible fling to him. Because this, this was dead serious to him. And he was probably terrified of screwing it up.

After all, people didn’t love Benjamin for showing emotions, for vulnerability, for weakness, for being human. They loved Soldier Boy for being a fucking hero. The strongest. Indestructible. And not caressing fragile hands like they were an extention of the most precious soul in the whole damn universe to him.

His hands squeeze yours once more, as if physically reassuring you, before he pulls away and leans back again, now a content smile embellishing his firm face.

A genuine smile. No show. No flirty Soldier Boy.

From one ear to the other, all Benjamin.

As if he’d seen himself in the mirror, he suddenly shifts in his seat, like he’s physically trying to shake off any remaining trace of that disgusting vulnerability. “Right, so…” He clears his throat, his eyes flickering around the packed coffee shop like he’s looking for some moron to latch onto.

You chuckle softly at the sight, knowing all too well that it’ll probably take a hell of a lot of time and love to get him to smile more like this without having him recoil from his own feelings every time.

Sure enough, Ben has found the perfect victim. “Think we gotta step up our couple-game. Popeye’s still ain’t buyin’ it.” He smirks, his eyes lazily rolling over to briefly shoot a death glare at the sailor-hat wearing employee who’s now cowering behind the counter.

He then reaches over the table again, his index finger flicking against one of the two red-white striped straws bobbing in the sweet drink, before he goes on to strangle his own between his calloused finger pads.

“The dick bender’s been watching you all this time.” He growls, and you can feel just a hint of protectiveness from the way his jaw muscle twitches beneath his beard and his nose wrinkles above the straw that’s now been jammed between his bared teeth.

“Everyone’s watching us, Ben.” You chuckle, before your eyes trail down to the free straw with an amused smile.

Ben nudges your inner thigh with his foot under the table to get your attention. “C’mon, you make me look like some cocksucker here.” He teases and jerks his chin at you and the untouched straw still dangling off your side of the milkshake, “You said you wanted a fucking great Valentine’s day, right? So do me a favour, sweetheart, and start sucking.”

You chuckle and bring the straw up to your mouth to wrap your lips around it. You take the first slurp and your cheeks melt into a wide, knowing smile.

Matcha milkshake with chocolate chips and extra vanilla syrup. That much for ‘a code word’.

-------------

A/N: I hope this turned out okay?? 😭

Also. Maybe I was breaking a taboo here or maybe it’s not as common as I thought, but I felt like it's a topic which I have rarely ever see in fanfics. And I know how some just don’t fall over the edge that easily? Like sometimes it genuinely feels frustrating to chase that relief to no end with no success? Yeah, this story is for you all. I hear you. 🧡

Starting a Soldier Boy tag list for anyone who’s interested! ♡ ❀ꗥ Let me know in the comments or fill out this form!

[redroses07]

WHO SAID THAT?!

[dollerinna]

❛ 𝑾𝑯𝑶 𝑯𝑨𝑺 𝑨 𝑭𝑨𝑪𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑻𝒀 𝑫𝑶𝑬𝑺.ᐣ ❜

─ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡𝚑𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡, 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝚑𝑎𝑡 .

𝓟airing :: 𝓗omelander ੭୧ 𝓜aid! fem reader

𝓢ummary :: you should know better than to sleep with your superior, especially when duty calls. yet homelander always finds a way to pull you in, leaving you hurt each and every time ❪ wc: 2.1k ❫

𝓓ead 𝓓ove 𓏵 𝓦arnings :: dub-con/non-con. oral (m! receiving). face f*cking. degradation. homelander’s god complex. choking/gagging. hair pulling. slightly choppy writing n’ lazy ending. not my best work

"S-Sir," you stammered, heat blossoming across your cheeks as you fought to maintain your composure. "I really should get back to work. There are other rooms that need cleaning..." your fingers twisted anxiously in the hem of your skirt, the involuntary gesture exposing the desires your words tried so vainly to deny.

Your gaze flitted towards the foot of the bed, where Homelander loomed over your sprawled, vulnerable form. His pale blue eyes raked over you, drinking in every perfect little detail—from the half-lidded, sultry cast of your features to the way your maid uniform clung to your curves, the fabric hitched scandalously high to reveal lace-trimmed panties clinging to your dampened folds.

A smug lift of his brow greeted you in turn, along with a maddening quirk at the corners of his lips—like he knew damn well the extent of his charms and was loath to let any woman forget. It was the same look of cocky triumph that had first drawn you in, and still drove you to distraction each time after. With slow, deliberate steps, he advanced, his heavy red boots echoing off the hardwood as he climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, but his gaze never wavered from you.

"Please sir, I—-" your feeble protest withered on your lips, smothered by that familiar tutting sound that often passed through Homelander’s teeth—a dismissive noise, as if you were nothing more than a misbehaving pup in need of correction. You knew he could smell the betrayal of your body, the musk of your arousal wafting up from your heat-stricken cunt to meet his keen senses. "Ah, ah, ah," he chided, "What did I say about you and that pretty mouth of yours, hmm?" Homelander asked, his words dripping with patronizing disdain.

Undoubtedly, he saw through the flimsy pretext of your resistance, reading the truth scrawled across the crevices of your beautiful face.

Homelander surged forward, his muscular frame blotting out the light as he straddled your quivering body. His knees bracketed the sides of your chest, pinning you in place.

"I believe I made it quite clear," he muttered, a razor’s edge seeping into his otherwise jovial tone, "that those lips are to be used for only two things - sucking," his thumb dipped between your parted lips, "or shutting the fuck up."

Instinctively, you opened your mouth, a reflexive response to affirm your obedience. But the firm, cautionary squeeze of his hand on your shoulder gave you pause. Discretion, it seemed, was the wiser choice. So instead of voicing your compliance, you offered a wordless nod, a silent acknowledgment that Homelander found satisfactory. “Good girl…” he hummed in approval.

With that, Homelander granted you permission to move on to the main course of tonight—the sweet, sweet prize that awaited between his god-sculpted thighs.

He gently took a hold of your hand, guiding it towards the impressive, straining bulge that threatened to split the seams of his superhero attire. The moment your fingertips skimmed along the rigid contours of his erection, you swore you felt the barest hint of a beat, tugging the most muted catch from his breath.

“Feel that?” He rasped lowly. “That’s power. And it’s all yours tonight… if you behave.”

A current of nervous tension coiled within you, manifesting in the restless curl of your toes and the worry of your lower lip. Intently, you watched as Homelander worked to undo the buttons of his suit, yanking his thick, weighty cock out which stood tall and proud in its cushion of golden curls. Warmth bloomed in your ears and spilled over your face at the sight, your stare remained locked on its sway.

Amusement scrunched his eyes, absolutely relishing that ‘flash-frozen, deer-in-headlights’ look of yours at his size. The smug bastard soaked it all in with a smile so self-satisfied, it could only belong to the most insufferable shithead around. But the most infuriating part? It was how he still made your insides tie knots for him despite it all.

After a long, narcissism-fueled pause savoring your admiration, Homelander broke the silence with an arrogant exhale. “Alright alright, I get it… I’m perfection personified, nothing short of a masterpiece, yada yada,” He flicked a wrist before his posture of perfection, clad in pristine blue. “But I didn’t invite you here for a goddamn photoshoot. So enough with the eye-fucking already, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Snapped out of your trance, you blinked in a confused daze “Huh?” You barely caught on a word, most of his monologue being a blur—something about bigger fish? Homelander fixed you with a withering glare that could melt steel, lips curled in contempt. Clearly, he thought very little of your mental facilities.

"Bless your heart. Do you need me to break out the crayons and draw you a picture?” His silky tone was condescending in the extreme, as if addressing a particularly dim child. “By bigger fish to fry, I mean bigger things to explore, bigger challenges to face… bigger dicks to suck. Now come on sweetheart, stick that tongue out for me.”

Without another word, his fingers curled around the sturdy base, the glistening, slick tip coming to rest against your warm lips. Homelander’s message came through loud and clear—he wouldn’t allow anymore of your human idiocy, demanding your absolute compliance. Right here, right now.

Swallowing your trepidation, you slowly extended your tongue, tracing a stripe from the curve of the base all the way up to leaky slit of his bulbous, cherry red head. A blissful twitch rippled through his length, drawing beads of precum that sprang forth like a broken faucet.

Homelander’s jaw ticked at your touch, eyelashes flickering low while his mouth thinned bloodlessly, barely stifling the moan that rushed out on his gusting release of breath. Craving more contact, he settled fully over you, wedging you further into the mattress until the head of his member was able to slide past your lips.

He cradled your head close, suffocatingly so, to the point that the tip of your nose was nearly squashed against the hard muscles of his pelvis, sweeping your senses away on a tide of raw musk and cologne—the kind you could only dream of affording.

Without a moment’s pause, Homelander instantly set to work plundering into your slack mouth, greedily stealing the air out of your lungs with every thrust. You froze, an icy veil draping across you as his sheer size blanketed your tongue to an overwhelming degree—an inevitability when in the presence of the Homelander, whose power could crush and destroy with the merest flick of a finger.

“Mm… yeah, that’s it baby, just like that,” Homelander’s voice dropped to a low, throaty purr that was tinged with an undisguised pleasure, impressed by the way you took him with practiced ease despite your discomfort. “Look at you… you really know how to handle a steel pipe, don’t ya?” Homelander quipped, the mirth in his tone teetering upon mockery.

An eye roll for the ages battled to escape, yet the chains of protocol held fast. Because in your idiotically cock-whipped mind, rules somehow still applied when giving your superior a sloppy-toppy.

But the very moment you faltered, even slightly, he seized a fistful of your hair, wrenching your head back with a stinging, almost bone-crushing grip that had you gasping. It was a request, no, a demand for you to quit wriggling pathetically and take it like a big girl. “Stay still and keep working on that cock like it owes you a goddamn fortune.” He growled, a wolfish grin splitting his features as he watched you strain to swallow his brutal intrusion—the same ‘steel pipe’ that was now halfway lodged down your throat.

Helpless, all you could do was gag and sputter, while Homelander’s heavy balls slapped loudly against your chin until your skin felt raw. The relentless pounding overwhelmed your eyes with an unwelcome moisture, vision blurring like an out-of-focus camera from the onslaught of sensations—the taste of him, the ache in your jaw, the burn of your scalp. “…’s too… b-big…” you choked out the syllables with gulping effort, each one emerging gargled and barely discernible around the column of flesh violating your mouth.

The craziest part? He could’ve easily gone harder—so much damn harder—if he simply wanted to.

Scorn etched harsh lines around Homelander’s sneer at your plea and lack of appreciation for his so-called ‘restraint’, carving deeper as your mangled noises scraped its way loose. “Jesus, did all that disgusting slobber rot what was left in that walnut you call a brain? I know critical thinking isn’t your strong suit, but this?” Briefly, he withdrew himself, slapping his fat, drooling cock against your cheek to emphasize his next point.

“We’ve been over this—dominance and dick diameter are a set for a reason. And I don't do average. Ever." With a snide scoff, he shoved his member back between your teeth, utterly dismissive of the fact a worm such as yourself had the gall to express any form of displeasure with his godly magnificence. “Psh, ’too big’… Boo-fucking-hoo! Cry me a river and pass the hankies. You signed up for this sweetheart, don’t you forget that.”

Well-fucking-ouch, you winced internally. If the sting in your jaw wasn’t already bad enough, then the blow to your ego definitely added insult to injury.

Unable to take his barrage of demeaning insults any longer, you mustered what little strength you had left and wrapped your hands around his intrusive member in a frantic plea to wrest back some control. But even as you tried to push him away, to create even the slightest distance, you knew it was a futile gesture. Homelander's mighty fists, capable of crushing a thousand suns, anchored your skull in place, rendering your attempts at resistance utterly meaningless.

“Nono- don’t you move a goddamn inch,” Homelander’s command rang out with finality, brooking no room for defiance. “Suck it up and let me in just a little further. You can do it, I know you can.”

He pressed onward, unforgivingly, until your lips were stretched obscenely wide around his spongy head that brushed the sensitive reaches of your throat, coaxing the lewdest hisses of moist air to slither past the corners of your mouth. "Atta girl, that's it," a shuddering exhale fled his lungs, fingers knotting in your hair as his skin came alive beneath your enveloping wetness. "Such a natural little cocksucker. Taking me like a champ."

“…s-sir… please…” words struggled to claw free through vocal cords rubbed raw. Your begging fell upon deaf ears, disregarded as mere noise to soundtrack the moment for Homelander, whose mind was currently busy drowning in a cloud of bliss as his orgasm neared.

"This," he growled, punctuating his words with a mean grind of his hips, "is what you wanted. The privilege of worshipping a true god, the savior of humanity time after fucking time again..." His grip tightened, fingers digging into your scalp. "So keep that pretty mouth open and swallow every last drop of my seed like the starving animal you are.”

With one final pump, a wave of bitterness assaulted your taste buds, and before you could fully brace yourself, Homelander came. The copious tang of his essence flooded your mouth, burning on your tongue with a ferocity that felt like it would linger for days on end.

Once he pulled away, a familiarly heavy silence fell over the small space between you. You knew what was expected of you once he had his fill, yet it never got easier no matter how many times. In truth, you felt empty—skin prickling with discomfort rather than release. He laid beside you, recovering his breath, when he momentarily glanced over at you. There he paused, doing a double take when he noticed the sheen glistening in your eyes, the sadness shaping your lips.

A groan followed, already annoyed by even the subtlest display of your ‘weak, squishy human emotions’. “Eugh… would- would you quit your sniveling and give it a rest? If I needed a weeper, I would’ve, I dunno, gotten a damn puppy… not you.”

Yet something flickered in the depths of his steely gaze—just a momentary glint before it was swallowed back. He quickly schooled his features, reminding himself that you were only a human, a toy for his amusement. Nothing more.

Then with a careless toss, Homelander flung your coat over your head, blinding you. “Cover up that embarrassing nonsense. And while you're at it, do something about that stomach-turning stench up in the break room—it's giving me a migraine.”

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Pssst- likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

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♡ divider credits: @/grlselle

[honeymaze]

nothing but the two of us

bad days are a constant to him, but your presence is, thankfully, a constant as well.

❤️‍🔥 homelander x supe!fem!reader | established relationship, graphic mentions of dark content (violence, death, reader isn’t the best person out there either), hurt/comfort, reader’s powers aren’t specified (nor does she “work” as a supe), no plot/slice of life

note: hey! just an angsty drabble to open this new blog. hope you guys like it!

-

There is a thick mist glazing over the city as he arrives at his place, just a little before the setting sun takes shelter behind the skyline. Homelander is beyond exhausted, as he usually is, and he feels like the weight on his shoulders might be a little too heavy for him to handle. There aren’t powers in the world that can soften the blow of being paraded around like a caged animal for an entire day — photographed, talked to relentlessly, groped — and there’s nothing he can’t do but endure it.

It’s a divine joke, really. That he is much stronger than everyone else, and yet he has to settle for this game of pretend. They take everything from him, and he scrapes for all the compliments and looks of awe that he can get. But even that is starting to get old.

“Let me guess, bad day?” Your voice breaks his thoughts. He finds you instantly, wearing only an oversized shirt and taking a sip from your coffee. “You look like you’re about to lazer through me.”

He clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t work, remember?” Homelander tries to play it off. You don’t buy it. He sighs and crosses his arms. “Bad day, horrible. Ashley should be grateful that she isn’t in a coffin right now, I’ve already — I’ve already told her how much I hate these stupid interviews.”

You smile, putting your cup down. The act alone makes something stir up inside him. “Vought magazine, right?”

He rolls his eyes. “They couldn’t come up with an original name and they want me to pretend like I care.”

“I don’t know how you manage,” your sarcasm is lost on him, for he only sighs and nods vigorously. “But come on. You’re with me now, magazine be damned. We should enjoy our night.”

“Stupid fucking animals — primates, all of them,” Homelander continues to complain, turning his back to you. He places his hands on his hips and looks over the city that expands just beyond his window. “I could kill all of them with one blow.”

You come behind him, giggling at his hissy fit. John is such a manchild, you can’t take these comments seriously (even if you’ve seen enough proof that they’re not only vacant threats).

“Baby, I know that. They know that. That’s why they love and respect you so much,” you reason. Your arms wrap around his waist and Homelander tenses — then relaxes, melting into your touch. You rest your cheek against his broad back, the vague scent of ashes and blood dancing in your nose. Even if he cleans it, you can still catch it: magazine interviews weren’t everything he did today. But you won’t pry, you don’t really care that much. “If Ashley pushes you through another interview, she’ll have to answer to me. And I’m much meaner and harder to please.”

That manages to tear a laugh from him. “Glad you know that.” He turns around and runs one hand through your hair. His blue eyes went from a dark storm to a calm sea, always a good sign that you’re managing to get to his rational (softer) side. “Thank you.”

You smile and kiss him briefly. In your mind, there’s a clear distinction between Homelander and John, and when you manage to make him click out of his “super-better-than-you” mindset, you’ve won.

The next hour passes by in a routine that you’ve grown used to — a warm shower, the brief cleaning of fast-healing wounds, a passing comment about the sprinkles of blood in his blonde hair. There’s an unspoken knowledge between the two of you about the true nature of the man standing before you and, just as clearly, the notion that you don’t mind it. Maybe that’s why Homelander enjoys your company so much: you don’t judge, you don’t care. He doesn’t know if you look down on non-supes as much as he does, but the bottom line is that you don’t care enough about a few casualties that manage to brighten his day. And that’s enough for him.

“And they were able to cover up that alley situation, right?” You ask randomly as he turns off the shower. John scoffs. “I mean, yeah, I know they always do, but usually things don’t go that south. Starlight looked like she was in shock when I saw her enter the building.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

But it was. The alley situation in question was a mission that the seven were assigned to last week — something about bombs and gun traffic at the dark corners of the city. It was supposed to be a clean-cut mission: get in, neutralize the threat, look for victims, get out. There was one aggravating factor, however: Homelander was having the worst day in weeks, and you were out of town. One thing led to another and at some point the mission turned from “stopping the evil men” to “controlling the unhinged Homelander before he blew up an entire neighborhood”. The destruction was so massive that it was easy to pass it off as a massive bomb activation, but a few surrounding cameras told a different story. The devil works hard but Vought works harder — though, it’s hard to stop a video from spreading after it’s uploaded somewhere.

“Just wanna know if they asked you about it during the interview, that’s all,” you say, reaching for the towels. You could say that you’ve seen it stir up quite the frenzy online, but you knew better than that. As much as you were able to calm down John from a few hissy fits, you knew that the public hatred was stronger than a few soothing words from your end. “I know you always answer the right things and I—“

“So there’s nothing to worry about,” he interrupts. “I don’t know how you can just walk around and live like one of these… worms. Makes me think that you like them more than your own kind.”

In the end, it always comes down to this little mind game: us or them. Homelander or the rest of the world.

“Well, first of all, I don’t think I have what it takes to be in the spotlight, I’m not as good as you,” you start off strong, with a caress to his ego. His blue eyes are frozen in place, staring deep inside your soul for any sign of lies. As much as he can’t lazer through your head, he could break your neck if he tried. And, once again, there’s a thin line between love and hate when it comes to him. “Second… I know my worth regardless of what I choose to do. It’s not because I work amongst non-supes that I see myself as one of them. I like what I do.” Your hand reaches out for his cheek, and he rests his head on your hand. “Besides, I already have everything I want right here. No supe or non-supe world could ever compete, so why even bother?”

Homelander’s eyes stay locked in for another second, not one line of expression on his face. He sighs and relaxes his shoulders, finally adverting his gaze. “I like having you home when I arrive,” is all he answers — in his words: I like you’re not out there when I need you.

“And I’ll always be home for you,” you say, smile growing on the corners of your lips.

He nods. For now, that’s enough.

[figthoughts]

SOLDIER BOY who ties your hands to the bed, sick of your constant fucking whining and teasing.

“fucking brat. you wanna play games, little girl? oh, i can play games,” he grunts out, a wicked smirk dancing across his face as you try to fight him, your pathetic feeble attempts doing nothing against his superstrength.

he pulls out his thick cock, and it’s throbbing from all your teasing and mouthy fucking remarks. he strokes himself in front of you, gazing down at your pretty tits and glistening folds as you whine, blubbering out desperate apologies as you beg him to fuck you.

but he doesn’t. instead, he fervently fucks his girthy pink member into his hand as you whine and plead. “should’ve been a good girl then, babydoll. brats don’t get shit from me, and they certainly don’t get to cum.”

his deep breathy moans shoot straight down to your aching core. soldier boy’s face scrunches from the pleasure, watching your sweet pussy drool in need as he fists his cock. he chuckles darkly, watching you writhe underneath him, trying to free yourself from the ties.

his movements quicken into a sloppy mess as his balls tighten, ready to shoot out his thick load at the sight of you struggling to keep yourself composed under him.

“you’re lucky you even get this, brat. should be fuckin’ thanking me,” he groans as he shoves his tip into your cunt, shooting his warm ropes of cum inside your swollen gummy walls, filling you up and leaving you clenching around his tip, all needy and unfucked.

[horror-sapphic]

On her face | V. Neuman x fem!reader

Cw: NSFW, face humping/nose riding, previously consented somnophilia

A/n: quick little Drabble/imagine about my (our)wife, sorry for any errors.

V.N masterlist

18+ content below!!

Imagine waking up to her using her mouth to toy with your soaked pussy in the morning, she’s been impatiently waiting for you to wake up but she couldn’t wait any longer for you to stir awake.

Your quiet-sleepy moans turns into loud conscious ones which prompts her to dive in deeper, smothering her face into you. You grab for her hair under the sheets pulling her closer, she obliges —swiping her nose against your slick clit while she tongue fucks your needy hole lapping you up.

You begin to subconsciously hump her face to bring you over the edge and she lets you, bringing her hands down to play with herself while you use her face to get off.

A/n: enjoy you horny gays, reblog if you enjoyed!!

[fallecupid]

VICTORIA NEUMAN | NSFW ALPHABET

: thanks for the request, in fact, writing about victoria was even easier than writing about donaldson.!!!

A — ( aftercare ) after sex, victoria often just hugs your body or whispers sweet nothings to reignite your excitation, but doesn't really mean it. also, it's definitely holy ground, like showering and changing cum-stained bedding.

B — ( body part ) neuman would be lying if she said it didn't matter. your neck, one of her few weaknesses, sometimes just wants to nuzzle into it and smell your scent or leave a couple of sweet hickeys on your delicate skin.

C — ( cum ) in particularly tense moments, it's not always possible to keep clean, so the white sheets of her soft bed suffer.

D — ( dirty secret ) victoria would like to practice role-playing or bdsm, it cannot be called a dirty secret, for she is not ashamed of her desires, but for some reason she has not yet voiced it.

E — ( experience ) you're not the first. victoria is definitely an experienced woman who knows where to stick her fingers in and where to run her tongue, yet you never have a slip of doubt that she's committed to one of her exes.

F — ( favourite position ) victoria prefers to fuck you while you sit on her lap, unable to pull away or be too willful. only to whimper into her neck and wriggle.

G — ( goofy ) victoria is pretty damn serious herself, but during sex she becomes more of a horny cat?

H — ( hair ) often, during sex, you tug victoria's hair, which is so damn attractive, she's ready to melt while your fingers slide through her thick curls.

I — ( intimacy ) she can afford to take you out to a restaurant or buy you any trinket, expressing her affection in this way. of course she can be romantic, if that's important to you.

J — ( jack off ) she herself doesn’t jerk off, she has damn little time for this, too much work and crap surrounding her on all sides. but watching you jerk off during sex is a different story, but it’s too typical when she doesn’t let you cum, right?

K — ( kink ) any kind of obedience. you often practice this and this kink has become too common in sex.

L — ( location ) it could be anywhere. whether it's her office or a bathroom stall, it depends.

M — ( motivation ) it doesn't take much for a warm feeling to build up in her lower abdomen, but she still particularly likes your boldness.

N — ( no ) victoria will never really hurt you. the woman is able to tell when you're languidly asking her to stop and when you're really uncomfortable.

O — ( oral sex ) she doesn't mind being sandwiched between your thighs while her tongue moistens your clit, listening to muffled moans.

P — ( pace ) victoria never rushes, slowly caressing you with her fingers while running her tongue over your naked skin. every touch is a tease.

Q — ( quickie ) absolutely not. no speed in sex.

R — ( risk ) she has no problem fucking you on the balcony of her office or squeezing you in a dark corner at an event.

S — ( stamina ) after all she's super, she has enough energy to fuck you once or twice, but then again if you're exhausted after the first time, she sees no point in continuing.

T — ( toys ) your sex with victoria is bad enough without having to spice it up with some kind of toy.

U — ( unfair ) victoria always does this, especially when you're ready to cum, she stretches that moment like a rubber, teasing you and provoking you at the same time.

V — ( volume ) surprisingly she doesn't like to make more noise than necessary, so she mostly whimpers into your hair or rubs against your chest at all.

W — ( wildcard ) when she's at a debate, more often than not, instead of being distracted by the sweaty men next to her, she's replaying your recent sex in her head while keeping her guard up.

X — ( x-ray ) —

Y — ( yearning ) something between 6-7/10 eventually she's a public figure, an active politician and her brain splits in two to keep it all in her head, need and work.

Z — ( Zzz ) victoria doesn't go to bed at once, she manages to work until the middle of the night, right after sex.

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

“This way, sweetheart, this way!” the clambering voices of the paparazzi build and crowd your ears. Flashing lights of pictures being taken leave imprints on your vision, but you smile through it. Your hands are dutifully wrapped around BLACK NOIR’s thick bicep, and you tilt your head against his shoulder as he leads you through the line of press.

“Black Noir’s girlfriend, over here! Look at me!”

“Right here, honey, right here!”

A warm palm pats against the top of your hand, and you glance up at Noir. You’ve gotten exceptionally talented at telling his signs, and he’s eyeing you from the side. A silent and familiar question that has you moistening your lips, retreating with him to the restroom as soon as you can afford to slip away.

“Couldn’t wait to get me back, huh?” you question, winded from effort as mean fingers dig into the flesh of your waist, guiding you up and down. “You know you’re supposed to be working, right? Can’t believe you needed a pussy break.” you chide. Fat cock drives into you at a harsh pace, bracing your hands on the stall dividers for support. With each of his thrusts up, a soft grunt expels through his nose, and it makes you shiver. Your fingers come to toy with his lips through his mask, the scarring embossed underneath it, sliding against your pads. “So fucking horny, baby. Is it ‘cause they called me your girlfriend?” To punctuate your point, you seat yourself, fully sheathing his every inch. “Huh? You like when they call me your little girlfriend?” He nods, only once, but it’s enough. Tenderly, your cup the nape of his neck, and use it as leverage for how you rock back and forth on his cock. His hands slide down your waist, over the folds of your hiked up dress, to grab at your ass. Gloves knead and smack at it, jiggling the flesh as you take your time in rolling your body on his cock.

“You—“ your own whimper interrupts you, his tip brushing the spongy spot inside of you from this angle. “—you think they know you’re fucking your little girlfriend in this fucking restroom?” At the mention, he claws into the globes of your ass, yanking you closer to him and consequently shoving himself impossibly deeper. A pitchy whine is drawn from you, and one of his hands comes to wedge in between you two. The tips of his fingers smooth out your lower abdomen, as if to let you know he’s right there. You can feel the tip of him right there, poking out. He didn’t have to say much for you to get the picture. Especially when he presses into it, bringing your g-spot right to his swollen head. You arch back with a gasp, stars like fireworks in your eyes as you chase that feeling. Faithfully, he keeps that pressure while you rock into it. His grip on your ass telling you: That’s right. That’s what I want from you. That’s a good little girl.

You’re supposed to be here in support of his newest movie; the premiere had been the talk of the media for weeks. And here you are in the public restroom of the theater, blowing it off so you can leave a cum stain on your boyfriend’s crotch.