That Boy is Corrupt…

Yes!!! He actually cannot control himself. A made-up sex tape of you choking on his cock while you try to whine for your daddy is already on loop in his brain.

♱ ... SOLDIER BOY ... ♱ 18+ MDNI cw - use of dad[dy], fingering, oral f-recieving, p in v soldier boy m. list read another version of calling him daddy for the first time here! (happens during anal :()

"Oh, is that what you think I am?" he'd ask, seeing how you'd react now that he'd pointed out your little... slip. You must know what he's thinking, the wheels that are turning in his brain, right? The amount of times you've called him a pervert, rolled your eyes at his obviously-wandering gaze, it should really be no surprise that he can already feel the blood leaving his brain.

"If you keep acting like it," you shot back, something you would defend to the grave as annoyance leaking into your tone. "Not your job to tell me to put my shit in the dishwasher."

"What if I just want to watch you bend over?"

"Then I retract my statement," you responded wryly, feeling hyperaware of his gaze on you while you loaded your plate. You hadn't meant much by it, hadn't expected him to latch onto the idea like he had. Thought he'd be more focused on telling you that for a broad you should be better at dishes.

"Now why would you do do that," he drawled, standing close enough for his heat to sink through your jeans.

"You mean why would I not want to insinuate that my dad likes watching my ass?"

"Yeah. 21st century, right? Anyone can be anything and all."

"I think you have a very perverted sense of liberation. Gotta love soldier boy's america."

"Fuck yeah, I do," he said proudly. "Used to be illegal to film a bitch takin' it up the ass and screamin' for her daddy."

"Oh yeah?" you snorted. "Which part." Your voice was dry enough that anyone else would take the hint to leave you alone, but, as suspected, he stuck around like a fucking cockroach. You couldn't deny a certain level of intrigue for his words, as vulgar as they may be. You also couldn't deny the tug in your gut at the appreciative way he used the word 'bitch.'

"Every fuckin' part. Didn't bother me because I'm goddamn soldier boy," he proudly adjusted his belt, "but it's important that the country I defend stands for the same things that I do."

"I bet. What kind of country would we be if we couldn't 'scream for daddy' on camera."

"Have you tried it?"

"No," you refuted quickly. And despite yourself, you felt your face warm.

"Mmm, see that's a problem," he murmured, cornering you against the counter. "Called me dad all easy?"

He leaned in even closer, speaking directly into your ear. "Most girls aren't looking for a tent when they use that word."

"I wasn't," you protested weakly.

"No, it's okay," he said, his hand smoothing up your thigh like he was trying to calm a startled animal. "It's okay to want some of daddy's attention."

In the ultimate act of betrayal, your breath hitched. Your entire body was molten, and all he's done is touch your thigh. It was the way he was speaking to you, crowding you, and worst of all, seeing you. You could admit that you enjoyed sparring with ben, each of you having plenty of opportunities to get your licks in, but lately it had felt... charged. You could call him out, call him disgusting, and instead of dealing you one back he'd just stare. Stare like he was waiting.

"You've just been begging for it lately."

You felt like a fish on a hook, and the bait was the way he was cooing at you. It still had the signature ben condescension, but the softness is what made you nod in agreement.

He hummed, and when his lips pressed against your neck your eyes slid closed. His hand slid farther up your thigh until his thumb hit your clit, a grunt of approval leaving him when your hips shifted.

"Fuck you gave up easy. Stop fighting when it comes from your daddy, huh? Where'd that little brat go?"

You shrugged, your brain already feeling too weak to string together a response. Later, you'd probably remember to be embarrassed that you did stop fighting the second he called himself daddy.

"Nothin' to say? That's okay. Rather hear you moan than talk, anyway."

His lips crashed against yours, warm and soft and way too perfect for a creature as abominable as ben. He set the rhythm, and your hand crept up to feel the way his jaw worked against yours. His free fingers wound in the nape of your neck, pulling and puppeteering you into letting your mouth fall open for him. He groaned when his tongue met yours, the gentle meeting of flesh feeling terribly intimate.

He pulled away, slow enough to savor each lingering atom of contact, and in a way that was uniquely ben managed to say something perverted enough to put you at a loss for words.

"Christ, that mouth's leakin' for me like your little cun."

The words were dipped in honest-to-god adoration, and coupled with the way his thumb swiped to clean up your lip you didn't even argue when he scooped you in his arms.

He tucked you in his chest, and the security of being held in his arms felt better than it should. You knew he was gross, hell, he was fucking revolting, but all you did was get all stupid with how close he was.

The moment you reached the bed ben fell to his knees, your back still bobbing on the mattress when he slipped off your pants.

"Gonna fuckin' eat you, doll. Bratty cunts always taste the best."

His gaze was locked on your heat, and he looked so damn pleased with himself that you had to wonder how long he had been thinking about this.

His head bowed, the tip of his nose nudging against your clit like he was leaning in for a kiss. He pressed his tongue against your slit, lapping at the wetness he drew from you before fucking his tongue into you. You had never realized that a tongue could feel so... big. The way it flexed and delved had you panting like you were taking a couple fingers, and the bump of his nose on your nerves only made you more needy.

"Ben, I-"

He delivered a harsh slap to your hip, the sound and the sting echoing through the room.

Maybe you just knew ben well enough to know what he was asking for, or maybe the bite against your skin broke down the feeble walls that shielded you from the truth.

"Daddy," you tried again, the word soothing the ache better than any cream.

He groaned against you in approval, only letting out a ragged jesus when his mouth moved to suck on your clit. His fingers quickly replaced his tongue, splitting you open with the new depth they hit. It was only two, but ben's fingers were thick. They dragged against the soft walls of your cunt, drawn to your most sensitive spots like magnets.

"Is daddy makin' you feel good, princess?" he asked, sucking your clit hard enough to make any possible answer scatter from your brain.

All you managed was a pathetic little 'mhmm' and a tightened grip in his hair.

Cruelly, he chose the moment that your legs started to tremble to tear himself away. You felt the heat inside of you blaze before ebbing again, your mushy brain struggling to catch up to your new situation.

"Shhh, doll," he soothed, sensing your prickles of panic. "Just gonna stuff you nice and full 'a dad, okay?" His huge body blanketed yours, and he notched his head against your entrance. Even though it was only the tip that was caught inside, he felt big. Big enough that you couldn't decide if you're glad you haven't seen it or not.

He eased himself inside, his movements like warm honey. Tears pricked your eyes from the pleasure of the stretch, and the sparks of pleasure that raced along your body started feeding the flame building in your gut.

"That's it. Takin' dadcock so well I can't believe it's your first time, sweetheart."

He finished his statement by bottoming out, his hips circling against yours in a firm grind that made you mewl.

"You'll be purrin' like that little pussy in no time. Just gotta relax." His words slipped out like syrup, and by the time you noticed he had a hold on your leg it was already propped against his shoulder. The stretch in your hamstring was sharp, but the new angle he was hitting you at immediately eased the ache.

"Dad," you slurred, your moans sounding like purrs just as he promised. "Feels so good."

"'Course it does, baby. Been asking me for this since the day you laid eyes on me. All that attitude just beggin' to be fucked out."

His hips drove into yours rhythmically, the head of his cock bumping out a noise of pleasure with each thrust. His lips captured yours, swallowing the worst of the sounds, but when his thumb found your clit your mouth opened too wide to kiss. He settled for biting on your lips, licking his tongue into your mouth in a way that reminded you of the way he worshipped your pussy.

He worked you back up in tight circles, slowing down each time you got close to keep the flame in your gut roaring.

"I know," he cooed after you whimpered. "Just wanna see if you can soak me."

You shook your head deliriously, nothing in the world sounding better or more important than getting your orgasm right now.

His thumb slowed to a crawl, more pressure than stimulation while his cock hit deep enough that it felt like it was in your stomach. Instead of your pleasure peeling back without his thumb, it grew hot and urgent inside of your cunt.

"Yeah that's it," he coached, taking in your knit brows. "Little cun wants to cum so bad, baby. Squeezin' me all desperate. Letting dad take care of her."

The band inside you broke, and white-hot pleasure melted from your hips and all up your spine. Your back bowed off the bed, and you pulsed and gushed around ben's thick cock in a way that was utterly overwhelming. He fucked you through it, his thrusts becoming animalistic when he realized how thoroughly you were soaking him.

"Fucking drenching me sweetheart," he panted, his voice sounding wrecked. "Thought I'd have to teach you that."

His thrusts quickened, all of his self-control gone now that you had been taken care of. The pace fanned the last flames of pleasure, drawing out the wave that was breaking your body.

"Gonna--fuck, gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna make this cunt all sloppy and full."

He buried himself inside, his fingers pressing into the back of your thigh and his face in the crook of your neck while he pumped his seed deep inside. It was warm, the heat soothing some of the ache from the thick split of his cock.

He groaned into your skin, the intimacy of the afterglow somehow making you shyer than anything physical.

"Like a fucking fountain," he said, his voice muffled. "Like a goddamn motherfucking fountain."

Your face warmed, beads of sweat finally breaking out along your hairline.

"I've never done that before," you whispered amazed at how you still felt floaty with pleasure, not just contentment. "Felt really good."

"Yeah?" Ben sat up, a shit-eating smirk making it's way back on his face (did it ever leave?). "What do you say."

bit of a softer, more possessive soldier boy on this one! this is more forced breeding sorry :,

18+ mdni ˙. explicit dead dove content ˙. dom!soldier boy fem!reader . noncon bc forced breeding . raw sex

masterlist ˙. requesting

ᯓ soldier boy would definitely baby trap you, after all, breeding is his middle name.

when you’d first became intimate, he’d always wore protection, although you had to remind him constantly. it’d gotten to a point where he just didn’t want to anymore.

“i just wanna feel you, doll.” he’d say, kissing his way down your throat. your core would pool and eventually you’d cave. “as long as you pull out”, you’d say. he always reassured you he would.

he’d pound into you, thick cock squeezed by velvety walls, and it drove him nuts. he just loved you so, so much. he’d groan and huff by your ear everytime his hips met yours.

“squeezing me real tight there, sweetheart,” he choked. his hand found it’s way to your lower belly and pressed down on it. the pressure made your head tilt back in a moan while you clenching around him. “she seems like she wants to be filled, hm?”

being all cockdrunk, you just whined with a hum. unfortunately for you, you didn’t process what exactly you’d agree to.

so when you felt him twitch deep inside you, you tried to push him away, to get him to pull out. but he didn’t, in fact he seemed to be trying to go deeper.

“c’mon, doll. she needs to be full, she’s so empty,” he almost seemed to be mocking. then he spilled inside of you. the feeling was different. had you not wanted it, you might’ve let yourself get absorbed into it. the feeling of fullness caused you to clench just a tad around him earning a grunt.

Summary: You and Soldier boy are fucking, when insecurity starts to hit, but Ben doesn't let you hide.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, chubby reader, praise kink, rough sex, emotional vulnerability

‹𝟑 wc: 900

You’re on your back and he’s already inside you when the insecurity hits hard.

The lamp on the nightstand is too bright. You didn’t think about it when he pushed you down and shoved your legs open. Now every time he thrusts you feel the soft jiggle of your stomach, the way your thighs spread wider than you want them to, the silver stretch marks across your hips catching the light. You try to pull the sheet up over your middle. Your arm gets in the way of his chest and he makes a low frustrated sound, catches your wrist, and pins it to the mattress beside your head.

“Stop,” he mutters, voice rough from breathing hard. “Don’t do that.”

You turn your face into the pillow anyway. “The light...”

“Fuck the light.” He doesn’t slow down. His hips keep rolling, thick and deep, the wet sound of it loud in the quiet room. “Look at me.”

You don’t. Your free hand slides down and tries to cover the softest part of your belly, the place that folds when he presses in. He notices. Of course he does. Soldier Boy notices everything he decides is his business.

He lets go of your wrist only long enough to bat your hand away, then plants both of his on either side of your waist and holds you open. His thumbs dig into the plush skin there, right over the stretch marks.

“Ben–”

“I can see you,” he says, almost angry about it. “You’re trying to disappear while I’m fucking you. Cut it out.”

Your eyes burn. You hate that your voice comes out small. “I just, I don’t look like–”

“Like what? Like a fucking magazine?” He drives in harder, sharp enough that your breath catches. “I don’t want a magazine. I want this.” One hand leaves your waist and slides under your thigh, hauling it higher so he can get deeper. The new angle makes your stomach press more against his and you flinch. He feels it. “You keep tensing up every time your body moves. Like you’re ashamed of the way it feels when I’m in you.”

You bite your lip. “It’s soft.”

“Yeah.” He says it like it’s obvious. “It’s soft. It gives. It feels fucking good.” He leans down, forehead against yours, still thrusting in that steady, heavy rhythm that makes the bed creak. “You think I care that your stomach isn’t flat? That you’ve got marks? I’ve got scars older than some countries. You’re not broken.”

A small, embarrassed sound slips out of you. You try to turn your face away again and he follows, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the side of your neck, open-mouthed and a little desperate.

“Keep your hands where I can see them,” he mutters against your skin. “No covering. I want to feel all of it.”

You leave your hands above your head, fingers curling into the sheets. It’s hard. Every deep thrust makes your body move in ways that feel too much, too visible. The soft slap of his hips against yours. The way your breasts shift. The stretch marks on your inner thighs pulling tight when he spreads you wider. You can feel yourself getting wetter anyway, traitorous, and he groans when he notices.

“There you go,” he says, voice lower now. “That’s better. Stop fighting it.”

He shifts, hooks one of your legs over his arm, and starts fucking you properly, long, hard strokes that force little punched-out sounds out of your throat. His free hand stays on your belly the whole time, palm spread wide, not pushing down or trying to hide anything, just, there. Holding the softest part of you while he uses the rest.

“Feel that?” he asks, breathless. “How you take me? How wet you get even when you’re busy hating yourself?” He grinds deep and stays there a second, rolling his hips so you feel every inch. “That’s not nothing. That’s you wanting this. Wanting me.”

You nod, eyes wet. “I do. I just–”

“I know.” He kisses you properly then, slower than the rest of him is moving. When he pulls back his voice is quieter. “You don’t have to look perfect for me to want to stay inside you. You already are. Soft and marked up and mine right now.”

Something in your chest loosens. Not all the way. But enough that when he starts moving again you don’t try to hide. You let your hands come down and hold onto his shoulders instead. Your legs stay open. The light stays on. And every time he bottoms out and your body shifts under him, he makes a low, rough sound like it’s exactly what he wanted.

He comes first this time, deep, hips stuttering, a bitten-off curse against your throat, then keeps going until you follow, shaking and quiet and holding onto him like you might float away if you don’t. Afterward he doesn’t pull out right away. Just stays heavy on top of you, one hand still resting on the soft curve of your stomach, thumb stroking absently over a stretch mark like it’s nothing special and everything at once.

Jealous Brat

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Supe!Female!Reader

Summary: Soldier Boy fucked Firecracker and you're not happy about it.

Warnings: Explicit Smut, Dub-Con/Consensual Non-Con, Rough Sex, Choking, Slapping, Degradation, Praise Kink, Possessive Ben, Toxic Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Oral Sex (f + m receiving), Unprotected P in V, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, Soldier Boy being Solider Boy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

A/N: Been wanting to write this for forever. Also if it isn't obvious, reader has telekinesis.

Masterlist • Taglist

The door to your room at Vought shut with a click that made your jaw tighten. You'd been avoiding him for two days, ducking into conference rooms when you saw him coming, taking the stairs to bypass the common areas, eating meals in your room like some kind of hermit.

It was pathetic. You knew it was pathetic.

But you'd heard Firecracker echoing through the halls, that annoying twang bouncing off the walls. You heard her talking to someone about how she fucked Soldier Boy last night.

You'd walked away before you could hear the details. Before you could picture it. Before you could remember the way Ben's rough hands felt gripping your hips, the way he'd growled my girl against your neck like he had the right to claim you.

You weren't his girl. You weren't anything. You'd abandoned The Boys, abandoned Butcher's whole disaster of a plan to use Soldier Boy to take down Homelander, and crawled back to Vought because you had nowhere else to go and, honestly? It's all you knew from the start anyway.

Couple years later, when Homelander unthawed Soldier Boy, then introduced him as number two in The Seven, Ben wasn't surprised to still see you here.

"Guess there's one good thing about being on this team," he'd said and winked at you.

Fuck him. Fuck Firecracker. Fuck all of it.

You kicked off your boots and flopped onto your bed, staring at the ceiling.

The knock came a little before 11 PM. Three sharp raps. You knew it was him, who else would be knocking on your door this late?

"Go away," you called out.

"Open the door, doll." Ben's voice was muffled but unmistakable. That gravelly, deep tone that still made something stupid in your chest flutter.

"I said go away."

"And I said open the door." A pause. "Don't make me ask again."

You should have left it locked. You should have told him to fuck off. But your feet were moving before your brain could catch up, your fingers undoing the deadbolt with a resentful twist.

He looked good. Too good, all broad shoulders, the green undershirt of his uniform tight on his muscular form. He still smelled like tobacco and Old Spice and something uniquely him, maybe gunpowder, regrets, and memories you didn't want to have.

"You've been avoiding me," he said.

"Been busy."

"Busy." He stepped into your space, forcing you back into the room. "That's funny. Everyone said you didn't have anything scheduled today."

"Stalking me now, Benjamin?"

"Watching out for you." The door clicked shut behind him. "Like I always have."

You laughed, sharp and bitter. "Right. You watched out for me so well when I was the one keeping you from nuking Manhattan. When I was the one letting you—" You cut yourself off, cheeks heating.

"Letting me what, baby?" His voice dropped, that annoying smirk appeared. "Say it."

"Nothing. Whatever," you spat, "it's in the past. Doesn't matter."

"Is it?" He circled you like a shark, and you hated how your body responded, how your breath hitched when he stepped close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. "Because you sure are acting like a jealous little brat for someone who doesn't think it matters."

"I'm not jealous."

"No?" He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His green eyes were cold, "Then why've you been ignorin' me, doll, hm? Why've you been staring at Firecracker like you're contemplating throwin' her off the goddamn roof?"

"She's annoying."

"She's a good fuck," he said deliberately, watching your face. "Eager. Obedient. Knows how to take orders."

Your power flared, your books rattling on their shelves, the lamp flickering. "Get out."

"Make me."

You shoved him. Hard enough to crack concrete. Hard enough to send a normal man through the wall. Ben barely stumbled, his hand moving to grip your throat.

"That's it," he growled, and there was something almost proud in his voice. "There's my girl. Thought you'd gone soft on me, running back to Vought with your tail between your legs."

"Fuck you."

"That's the plan, doll."

He kissed you like he was trying to consume you, all teeth and tongue, pressing hard against you, his hand squeezing your neck with just enough pressure. You bit his lip and he laughed against your mouth, that dark, delighted sound that had haunted your dreams for months.

"You want to fight me?" He spun you around, shoving you face-first against the wall. Your cheek pressed against the cool surface, his body caging you in, that hard length grinding against your ass. "Go ahead. Give me your best shot."

You tried. You threw an elbow back with supe strength. He caught it, wrenched your arm behind your back, and you gasped at the stretch. Wincing from the pull.

"Pathetic," he breathed against your ear. "You used to be able to take me down. What happened? Got comfortable here in your ivory tower? Forgot how to be dangerous?"

"I hate you."

"No, you don't." He yanked your other arm back, pinning both wrists in one massive hand. "You hate that I fucked her. You hate that I fucked her before I fucked you since being out of the fuckin' box. And you really hate that you want me anyway."

"Let me go."

"Say please."

"Fuck you."

He laughed again, that deep, low chuckle, and dragged you backward toward your bed. You struggled against him, wriggling and trying to using your strength and telekinesis to get away from him. He loved it.

He threw you onto the mattress and you bounced, scrambling backward, but he was on you in an instant, those heavy thighs straddling your hips, his hands tearing at your clothes.

"Ben—"

"Shut up." He ripped your shirt off. "You don't get to talk. Not after a whole day of the silent treatment. Not after you made me chase you like some kind of bitch."

"I'm not—"

He slapped you. Not hard enough to bruise, he knew your durability, knew exactly how much force to use. The slap was sharp, stinging, enough to make your head snap to the side and your pussy clench around nothing.

"Did I say you could speak?"

You glared at him, defiant, and he slapped you again, his other hand roughly palming your breast through your bra, thumb dragging over your nipple until you couldn't suppress the moan.

"That's better," he murmured, leaning down to bite your neck, your collarbone, leaving marks that would fade but felt permanent in the moment. "Stop pretending you don't want this."

"I don't—"

He cut you off with a hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision spot. "Lie to me again and I'll gag you with my cock. Understand?"

You nodded, pulse hammering, and he released you only to tear your bra off completely, tossing it aside. He palmed your breasts roughly, pinching and pulling at your nipples until you were arching into his touch despite yourself, despite the anger still burning in your chest.

"Look at you," he sneered. "All that attitude and you're already aching for me. Is this what you wanted? For me to come find you? To remind you who you belong to?"

"I don't belong to anyone."

"No?" He shoved your legs open, palming you through your pants, and you bit your lip hard enough to bleed to keep from crying out. "Then why are you dripping through your pants, you little slut?"

"Stop calling me—"

He slapped you again, then gripped your jaw, forcing your mouth open. "You don't tell me what to do. I tell you. And you're going to take everything I give you, aren't you? Going to be a good girl and spread your legs and let me use you however I want."

"Ben—"

"Wrong answer."

He flipped you over like you weighed nothing, yanking your pants and underwear down in one rough motion, leaving you bare and exposed. You tried to push up on your hands and knees but he shoved you back down, his palm between your shoulder blades, pinning you to the mattress.

"Stay."

You struggled anyway, trying to move away, and he brought his hand down on your ass with a crack that echoed through the room. Then again. And again. Until you were gasping, your skin hot and sensitive, your pussy absolutely aching.

"Please," you whimpered, and you hated yourself for it.

"Please what?"

"Please—"

He spanked you again, harder, and you saw stars. "Please what, you stupid fucking slut? Use your words." He was already undressing himself.

"Please fuck me," you sobbed, the words tearing out of you like a confession. "Please, Ben, I need—"

"That's it." He pulled your hips up, pressing against you, his cock heavy and hot against your thigh. "That's my girl. Begging for it like the desperate little bitch you are."

He didn't prepare you. Didn't ease in. He shoved inside in one brutal thrust that made you scream into the pillow, your body stretching around him, your telekinesis flaring so hard that every loose object in the room lifted into the air and crashed down around you.

"Fuck," he groaned, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Still so fucking tight. Still mine, aren't you? Even when you pretend you're not."

"Not yours—" you gasped out, pushing back against him.

He laughed and started to move, setting a brutal pace that had the bed slamming against the wall, that had you clawing at the sheets. He wasn't gentle, he didn't do gentle, especially not with you, not when he knew that you could take it. That you wanted it.

"Say it," he demanded, yanking your head back by your hair, arching your spine. "Say you're mine while I fuck you. Say it or I'll stop."

"Don't...don't stop—"

"Then say it."

"I'm—" He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision white out, and you sobbed. "I'm yours, okay? I'm yours, I'm yours—"

"Louder."

"Yours!" you screamed as he pounded into you, as his free hand reached around to rub rough circles on your clit. "I'm yours, Ben, fuck, please—"

"Good girl." He released your hair only to grip your throat again, pulling you up against his chest, changing the angle so he was hitting even deeper. "Now take my dick like the good little whore you are. Take it and thank me."

You clenched around him helplessly, teetering on the edge but not quite there, but close. Very close.

"Ben, I'm gonna—"

"Did I say you could cum yet?" He pulled out and you whimpered at the loss, at the emptiness, at the way your arousal started to drip down your thighs. "Greedy little thing. You think you deserve it?"

"Please," you whispered, shaking.

"Please what?"

"Please let me cum. Please, Ben, I need—"

"Show me." He flipped you onto your back, shoving your legs wide, and stared down at where you were spread open for him. "Touch yourself. Let me see how desperate you are."

You reached down, embarrassed and aroused and hating how much you wanted this, and started to rub your clit. He watched, predatory and pleased, his cock stirring against his thigh.

"Faster," he ordered. "And look at me. Don't you dare close your eyes."

You obeyed, your fingers working yourself in tight circles, your hips bucking, your whole body flushed and overheated. He watched you like you were the only thing in the world, like he was memorizing every expression, every gasp.

He knew when you were close, just about to cum.

"Stop."

Your hand froze, trembling, right on the edge. "Ben—"

"I said stop." He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away, and you actually cried out in frustration. "You don't get to finish yet. You haven't earned it."

"I did everything you—"

"You ran," he interrupted, his voice going cold and dangerous. "You ran away from me. Now I'm back and you ignored me over one little fuck. You think this fixes that?"

You stared up at him, chest heaving, tears pricking your eyes. "I had to leave. Butcher was—"

"I don't give a fuck about Butcher." He climbed onto the bed, kneeling over your chest, his cock hard and heavy in front of your face. "Open."

"Ben—"

He slapped you, sharp enough to get your attention. "Open your mouth. Now."

You obeyed, hating yourself, loving it, and he pushed his cock between your lips, his hand gripping your hair to hold you still. He tasted like salt and your own arousal, and you gagged as he hit the back of your throat, your eyes watering, your hands coming up to push at his thighs.

He didn't let you pull back. He started to thrust, shallow at first, then deeper, using your mouth the way he'd used your pussy, rough and completely in control.

"Look at you," he murmured, his hips snapping forward. "Taking my cock like you were made for it. Is this what you wanted? To be on your back, dripping wet, while I fuck your throat?"

You couldn't answer, could barely breathe, but you moaned around him and he groaned in response, his grip tightening.

"That's it. Take it. Take all of it, you beautiful fucking brat."

He came down your throat with a groan, holding you still as you swallowed around him, as tears streamed down your cheeks onto your tits. He pulled out slowly, his cock still half-hard, glistening in the light, and you gasped for air, your chest heaving.

"Good girl," he said softly, almost tenderly, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "Such a good girl for me, hm, doll?"

You turned your face away, embarrassed by the praise, by how much you craved it, and he chuckled, low and knowing.

"Still fighting it?" He moved down your body, settling between your legs, and you tensed. "Relax, sweetheart. Let me take care of you."

"Ben—"

He buried his face between your thighs without warning, licking a stripe up your slit, gathering your juices on his tongue. You cried out, your back arching off the bed, your hands flying to his hair.

"Oh god—"

"Not God," he murmured against your skin, the vibration making you whine. "Just me."

He ate you like he was starving, his tongue rough and demanding on your clit, two fingers pushing back inside you, curling to find that spot that made you see stars. You were so sensitive, so overstimulated, your body trembling from the sensations.

"Please," you begged, not even sure what you were begging for anymore. "Please, Ben, I can't—"

"You can," he insisted, his fingers working you ruthlessly. "You will cum when I tell you to cum."

He licked and sucked at your clit, adding another finger to your hole, curling them at just the right spot.

"Cum," he said, the vibration of his voice sending you over the edge.

You shattered, screaming his name. He didn't stop, didn't let up, kept working you through it until you were trying to squirm away from his mouth, oversensitive and shaking.

"Stop—stop, I can't—"

He lifted his head, his mouth shining with you, his expression dark and satisfied. "One more."

"No—"

"Yes." He crawled up your body, his cock hard again already, pressing against your entrance. "One more, and you're going to take it. You're going to cum on my cock, understand?"

"Ben, it's too much—"

He silenced you with a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, and he pushed inside in one smooth thrust. You were so wet, so open, but still sensitive, and you gasped into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Ride me," he ordered, rolling onto his back and taking you with him, settling you on top. "Show me how sorry you are. Show me how much you want to make it up to me."

You planted your hands on his chest, your knees straddling his hips, and started to move. It was awkward at first, your muscles trembling, but he gripped your hips and guided you, setting a punishing pace.

"That's it. Fuck yourself on my cock. Use me, baby. Take what you need."

You rode him desperately, chasing the pleasure, your head falling back as you found the angle that hit just right. He watched you, his eyes dark and hungry, his hands roaming your body, pinching your nipples, slapping your thighs.

"Touch yourself," he commanded. "I want to feel you cum on my cock."

You reached down, your fingers finding your clit, and it was too much, the stretch of him inside you, the pressure of your own fingers, the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

"Ben—"

"Cum," he growled, his hips snapping up to meet yours, pounding into you from below. "Cum for me right now, squeeze my fuckin' cock."

You came with a scream, your whole body convulsing, your pussy clamping down on him so hard he groaned, his grip bruising on your hips. He sat up, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close as he thrust up into your spasming heat, chasing his own release.

He came hard, spilling inside you, filling you until it was leaking out around his cock.

"That's it," he panted against your neck. "That's my good girl. Taking my cum so good."

He held you there, pressed close, his heart hammering against yours, both of you gasping for breath.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Then he softened, his grip loosening, his hands starting to stroke your back soothingly.

"You're an asshole," you mumbled into his shoulder.

"I know." He pressed a kiss to your temple. "And you're a jealous brat."

"Shut up."

He pulled back to look at you, his expression softer now, the dominance bleeding away into something gentler. "I didn't fuck her because I wanted to. I fucked her because I was trying to piss off Homelander."

You stared at him, surprised by the admission. "Ben—"

"Meant nothin' to me, doll," he said, brushing back your hair from your face.

You believed him. You shouldn't have found that romantic, probably, but something warm unfolded in your chest anyway.

He shifted, pulling out of you slowly, and you whimpered at the loss, at the sudden emptiness. He settled you beside him, tucking you against his side, his hand resting possessively on your hip. "You're mine. Even when you're being a pain in my ass. Even when you run. Understand?"

"You can't just—" You started to protest, but he cut you off with a look.

"I can," he said firmly. "And I am. You're mine, and I'm yours, and we're both stuck in this fucking tower, so we might as well be stuck together."

You stared at him, at this man who'd been frozen in time, who'd come back angry and broken and somehow capable of being a little tender beneath that rough exterior.

"Okay," you whispered.

"Okay?"

"Okay. I'm yours."

He nodded once. "Good. Now get some sleep. Homelander's got some bullshit conference tomorrow."

"You're staying?"

"Where else would I go?" He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "Beats seeing anyone else in this shithole."

"Guess I'm special." You said, leaning back into him.

"Yeah, doll. You're somethin'," he murmued, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter.

You closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the warmth of him against your back. Outside, the city hummed with its usual chaos.

But here, in the dark, with Soldier Boy's cum drying on your thighs and his arm draped possessively over your waist, you felt something dangerously close to safe.

"Ben?"

"Yeah?"

"If you fuck Firecracker again, I'll crush your skull with my mind."

He laughed, low and delighted. "My fuckin' brat."

A/N: Soldier Boy I love you

Billy fucking the insecurity out of you when he catches you doubting your attractiveness in the mirror🔥

I fucking love this 🖤

Every inch of you

MDNI!!

-Warnings: Butcher x Fem reader,Body worship, Negative Self talk,Crying,Praise,Swearing,Mutual ejaculation.

-Summary: Billy finds you crying in front of the mirror after a wave of body insecurities. Refusing to let you tear yourself down, he reminds you just how beautiful you are..in every way he knows how.

———

Standing right in front of the bedroom mirror, you stared down at your reflection, A quiet sniffle slipped out before you could stop it, your chest feeling tighter with every passing second.. You smoothed your hands down your dress, turning slightly to the side as your gaze lingered on the way the fabric sat against your stomach. You traced a finger over the faint stretch marks on your arms, a wave of hot tears burning behind your eyes. You looked at yourself and just felt so ugly, feeling like everything you saw was wrong.

The bedroom door clicked open behind you, and heavy footsteps crossed the room before slowing behind you. before a pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling your back flush against a warm chest.

Billy rested his heavy head right on your shoulder, his dark brow furrowing as he caught the reflection of your tear stained face in the glass.

"Oi, what's all this then?" he murmured, his voice rumbling softly against you as he pressed a gentle kiss to your damp cheek. "Why you cryin', sweetheart? Talk to me."

"I just..i hate how I look, Billy," you whispered, your voice cracking as you looked down at your hands. "My stomach is sticking out, and these stretch marks.. I just feel so gross. I look awful."

Billy's expression hardened, not out of anger at you, but at the thought of anything making you feel that way. He turned you around in his arms so you were facing him, his large and rough hands coming up to cup your face, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

"Don't you ever talk about yourself like that," he growled gently, his tone fierce yet softening instantly as he looked down into your eyes. "You're gorgeous, pet. Every single inch of you. Stop looking in that bloody mirror and look at me."

Before you could argue, Billy gently took your hand, leading you over to the edge of the bed and sitting you down. He knelt on the floor right in front of you , his eyes full of a raw, devotional heat. He gently hiked the hem of your dress up your thighs, his hands sliding up your bare legs with an absolute reverence, smoothing over your skin as if you were the most precious thing on earth.

He leaned in, pressing soft, lingering kisses all along your inner thighs while murmuring against your skin. "Look at you..so beautiful, so perfect for me. Never say you're ugly again, you hear me?"

With slow, deliberate care, he hooked his fingers into the lace of your panties sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside. He stood up slowly, stepping between your knees, and gently pushed you back against the pillows, leaning over you to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss that completely melted away your remaining defenses.

When he shifted down, pressing his boner against you, he didn't push straight inside. Instead, he dragged his cock slowly up and down your wet folds, teasing your sensitive entrance with deliberate, agonizingly sweet friction.

You let out a soft, breathy whimper, your hips bucking up instinctively as a wave of intense need pooled low in your stomach.

"Please, Billy.. please," you sobbed out, your fingers tangling into his hair as you begged him for the friction you craved.

"Yeah, that's right," he breathed, a dark, fond smile touching his lips as he looked down at you completely undone beneath him. "Call out for me, love. Tell me how much you want it."

"Please, I need you—"

With a low groan, Billy finally slid into you, stretching you out slowly and filling you completely. But there was no rush, no harshness..it was pure, passionate love making, every stroke deep and worshipful. He slid into missionary, propping himself up slightly so one of his strong hands gripped your hip to guide his pace, while his other hand rested softly on your tummy, stroking gentle, comforting circles against your skin.

"You're so fucking stunnin’, sweetheart," he muttered against your lips, kissing your face, your jaw and pressing tender kisses all along your arms, tracing over the very skin you'd just been crying over. "My gorgeous girl..look at you takin' me. So soft, so fuckin’ perfect." His lips lingered over the stretch marks on your arm. “See?” he murmured. “Can’t keep my hands off you.”

"Billy, oh god—" you cried out. Every kiss, every touch, made it a little harder to believe the cruel things you’d been telling yourself.

"I've got you, love. Look at me, keep your eyes on me," he whispered, his rhythm steadying as the pressure inside you both began to mount into an unbearable peak. "Cum for me, sweetheart. Let go..I've got you."

The realization hit you like a wavee, and your entire body locked up as a shattering, blinding orgasmic rush tore through you, your inner walls milking him tightly as you cried his name out into the room. Pushed over the edge by the sight of your pleasure and your tight pussy wrapped around him, Billy groaned deeply his own control snapping as he drove into you one last time and spilled inside you with a breathless curse.

"Fucking hell..love you so much, gorgeous," he panted roughly, collapsing forward to bury his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your skin as he rode out his own climax.

As your tremors slowly faded and you lay breathless together on the sheets, Billy didn't pull away. He gathered you up tightly against his chest, wrapping his arms around you and pressing one final, lingering kiss right to your forehead.

——-

Plastic can’t compare

MDNI!!!

-Warnings:Smut, Fingering (F!Reader Receiving), Sex Toy Use, Interrupted Masturbation, Praise & Degradation, Daddy Kink, Orgasm Control, Begging, Cum eating, Established Relationship, Strong Language.

-Summary: Billy mistakes your cries for something far more serious..only to discover you’ve been keeping yourself occupied without him.

—————

Your hands were right between your legs, working your vibrator while the low steady hum buzzed straight up through your hips. You were completely lost in it, legs thrown wide and fingers tangled in the sheets, whimpering out loud as the relentless vibration battered your swollen clit.

The door creaked open without a warning click.

Billy was standing right there in the doorway. His brow was furrowed, concern written all over his face. He’d heard you from down the hall and thought something was wrong. His usual Hawaiian shirt hung open over a dark tee, the bright colours looking almost ridiculous against the seriousness of his expression. Then his gaze settled on you. His eyes lingered for a beat, taking in the sight before him, and the worry slipped away. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth instead.

He didn't bother knocking or backing out. He just kicked the door shut behind him, his heavy boots thudding against the floorboards as he marched straight over to the bed. He climbed right up, his knees sinking into the mattress as he loomed over you, his gaze locked entirely on the piece of plastic pressed against your soaking pussy.

"Well, well, well," Billy drawled, a slow mocking smirk spreading across his face as he looked down at your trembling, humiliated form. "Thought you was hurt or somethin', sweet'eart. Turns out you're just layin' here squirmin' and hidin' your face 'cause you can't handle yerself."

"Billy..please, just go away..” you sobbed out, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to snap your knees together, but his big, heavy hand dropped straight onto your thigh, pinning it wide open with zero effort.

"Ah-ah. Keep 'em spread, love. You didn't lock the damn door, did you? Means you wanted someone to catch you actin' like a naughty little thing," he growled, reaching down to wrap his thick fingers right around the base of your vibrator and ripping it away from you before you could even protest. You let out a sharp and almost pathetic gasp at the sudden, empty ache between your legs. Billy tossed the toy carelessly onto the nightstand, chuckling. "Right, let's chuck that piece of plastic rubbish in the bin. That little toy'll never get you off the way my fingers will, pet. Look at the state of you..shakin' like a bloody leaf and drippin' all over the sheets."

Instead of staying crouched over you, Billy shifted his weight, sliding down the mattress to lie stretched out sideways right next to you. He propped himself up on one thick arm, his other hand sliding straight between your thighs and shoving two thick fingers straight up inside your hot, clenching pussy without a second's warning.

You let out a startled cry, your body jolting before you instinctively scrambled closer, burying your burning face in the fabric of his Hawaiian shirt. You couldn’t look at him. Instead, you hid against his chest, fingers clutching at the loud floral print as if it might save you from the embarrassment.

Billy let out a rumbling laugh, his chest vibrating right against your cheek as he started pumping his hand in and out of you with a steady, punishing rhythm, his thumb pressing down hard and mercilessly against your weeping clit.

"Look at you, takin' my fingers like a greedy little pet," he muttered, leaning down so his hot breath ghosted right over your ear. "Soakin' wet and squealin' the second I fill you up. Tell me right now, sweetheart, does that cheap little piece of plastic ever stretch you out like this? Does it make you leak all over the sheets like a good girl? Fuck, your walls are clenchin’ down so tight on me already... you wan’ a real man's hand inside ya, don't you, love? You want me to tear you apart?"

"Please, Billy—please, I'm right there..” you whimpered against his chest, your fingers twisting into the front of his shirt as the tension in your stomach tightened until it was almost unbearable.

"Are you now?" he scoffed playfully, keeping his pace heavy and deep, stretching you out until you were trembling all over against him. "Well, you ain't cuppin' a damn thing 'less you ask for it proper. You wanna finish, pet? You think a shy little thing like you gets to cum just 'cause she's whinin' into my shirt? You ask me. Ask your daddy if you can cum."

"No—please, I need it—" you cried out into his chest, your vision blurring at the edges as he kept driving his fingers in and out, deliberately dragging out the torture, his strokes turning rough and filthy.

"Ah, what'd I say about askin' nice?" Billy growled, slowing just enough to keep you hanging on the edge. His fingers curled, drawing another broken gasp from you as his thumb moved in slow, steady circles on your nub. “Use your words, love. Say it. Please, daddy, can I cum?"

You were trembling so hard you could barely breathe, your teeth sinking deep into his shirt to keep from screaming as the pressure built higher and higher in your chest. You were entirely at his mercy, undone and dripping all over his knuckles.

"Please—please, daddy," you choked out, tears of sheer frustration and overwhelming lust soaking right into his clothes. "Can I cum? Please let me cum."

"That's a good girl," Billy murmured, a dark wave of pride washing over his features as he heard the words. "There you go, sweet'eart. Take it all, take every damn inch of my hand. Let me feel you melt around me."

He let go completely, his hand quickening until you couldn’t hold on any longer. Your whole body tensed as the pleasure crashed over you, your breath catching while you clung to him, your voice muffled against his chest as you cried out his name.

Even as you convulsed and shattered against him, your thighs shaking uncontrollably, Billy didn't pull his hand out. He kept his fingers buried deep inside you, riding out your tremors and milking every last spasm out of your spent body until you were completely shattered.

Only when you were completely limp, chest heaving and hiding your face against his collarbone, did he finally slide his fingers out of your wet heat. He pulled his hand up slowly, bringing his glistening fingers right to his mouth. Then with an utterly filthy smirk locked on his face, he licked every single drop of your juices clean off his fingers, groaning softly as he tasted you.

"Fucking hell, pet," he rasped, his eyes dark and heavy as he swallowed you down and pulled you tighter against his chest. "Taste so sweet..fucking gorgeous for me, every single drop."

———-

plug!soldier boy x addict!reader

warnings: drugs & drug usage, mention of addiction, ben’s an eater ofc, squirting, fingering, fauxcest.

note: hi inalings… i hope ur hungry… sorry i’ve been gone work is killing me and i haven’t had fuel to write!!! thank u guys for supporting me anyways. gonna try and get through asks if i can bc they’re piling up💔 ok enjoy:3

wc: 1.3k

For the last eight months, this has been your average afternoon.

You spend it high out of your mind, fading in and out of consciousness, yet your hands go on autopilot to bury into Ben’s hair. Your feet are pressed onto his shoulders, each leg being held open by his unbearably strong hands; sometimes they turn your skin purple but you don’t mind.

He’s so skilled with his mouth that you’ve never been able to understand why he doesn’t just become a male hooker instead of selling drugs. Oh, what are you even complaining about? If he was, you wouldn’t be here right now!

The first sensation that begins to lull you out of your daze is the scratch of his beard. Each thick, wiry strand nips at your pussy and gets immediately lathered in your own slick. His nose nudges against your clit as his tongue dips down between your ass and gives one firm lick until he’s back up. Ben groans and lifts his head, his face glistening like a glazed donut.

“Fucking perfect.” He gasps. One big glob of spit smacks at your folds and drips between them. When he looks at you, all he sees is a scrunched face and blurry eyes. It almost hits like an insult. “You falling asleep on me?”

Gently, you shake your head and tug at his hair. “Mm-mm. Just- just keep going. Felt good and warm.” You murmur, stretching your hands down to the nape of his neck and back up again. “No, baby. I think you’re going to fall asleep on me.” The words come out more softly than he’d like to admit. “I’ll give you something.”

That perks you up. “What? No.” You groan, legs snapping shut once he’s standing again. “I don’t have the money.” Ben laughs. Truly and deeply, he laughs. “When’d I say anything about money? Shut up and wait for me. Dad’ll give you something you can’t resist, yeah? Gonna be asking for it tomorrow.”

Oh, tomorrow. Yes, you’d do this again tomorrow wouldn’t you?

When he comes back it’s with an orange pill bottle. The cap’s been taken off or lost entirely and it rests between his fingers and palm. He settles himself right between your legs on the floor again like he’s done countless times over, and you open right up for him in that same droopy state.

“What is it?” You shuffle around and sit up, leaning over to look closer. He can only smile at your sudden alertness. “Dex.” He shakes the bottle a little. “Gonna crush it up for you and you’ll do it on the back of my hand.” You nod eagerly, bunching your fists together. You’re barely biting back a smile. “Okay.”

It feels longer than it really is for him to do it. You can hear every bit of that pill being crushed between his fingers and sprinkled out onto his skin. “Be ready.” He barks like you’re not practically bouncing at the edge of your seat. He turns in that careful way of his, a nervous scrunch on his face and his other hand holding his wrist still. No, he doesn’t shake, but he’s still trying not to spill.

He looks at you expectantly, wanting you to make the first move even though you’re still waiting on his command. “Fuck’re you waiting for?”

You hold his fingers with one hand and close a nostril with the other. Each deep inhale hits like you’re going to sneeze but your body realizes it before it can happen. It stings in a good way, as if you’re licking a dirty penny. The whole line’s gone before you can finish thinking about how it feels.

Sitting up, the first reaction you see is his big, sexy grin. “Are you sure it’s free?” You murmur, rocking back and forth. Ben places his hands back on your legs, pushing them open and watching as you lay back for him. “All you gotta do is look pretty while you cum on my face.”

..Sure.

You can’t tell if you said that aloud or not.

He’s all about making sure you look at him. Clicks his tongue like you’re a dog and makes you stare deep in his eyes as he tongue fucks you. His teeth graze your clit and yet you don’t feel it. You definitely will soon.

The taste of your cunt makes his eyes roll all the way back. It’s a sweet yet tangy taste that coats every crevice of his mouth thickly. Maybe that’s his own addiction; how deep his desire goes to make you sit here and feel everything he gives you could rival even the craziest man.

There’s no clock to tell you how long it’s been since he started back up but at some point you started to feel again. Perhaps too much feeling because it’s starting to get a little unbearable. You can feel every harsh breath into your skin and how his callouses grip onto your inner thighs. On top of all that, you can feel the way his teeth scrape at your clit and suck on it like a lollipop. Your hands outstretch towards his hair, nails digging into his scalp at the sudden buzz of sensation in your stomach.

“Jesus christ!” You groan, dropping your mouth open and squeezing your eyes shut. When he hums in amusement, you barely resist the urge to squeeze his whole face with your thighs.

Ben’s tongue digs into your hole once more until that warmth gets replaced by two thick fingers attempting to plunge into you. “Relax,” He murmurs, voice muffled by skin. You shiver and jolt, nodding and letting go of him to sit back. He pops his mouth off to rest against your leg, gently easing in each digit until it’s rested at the knuckle. You’re sure his fingers aren’t that big, but it does feel like they’re the same size as his dick right now.

A sharp breath is taken to suck in your teeth at his fingers curling up into you. “You’re squeezing the shit out of me.” He groans, smiling up at you as he begins to pump his fingers. All you can do is nod and hiccup. “Feels.. big.” You slur, bucking your hips up into him. “M’gonna cum soon..”

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over me?” He coos, inching his mouth closer, his warm breath fluttering over your skin. You nod, rolling your hips into him, your clit just barely grazing his lips. He takes that chance to part his lips and take it in, his tongue brushing the sensitive bud before sucking it.

The perfect timing of the curl of his fingers and the way he eats you out like an emaciated prisoner is enhanced by the drugs in your system pumping through your blood. You can feel your orgasm like a bunch of needles poking through your skin or the slap of a strong hand hitting your nerves. It’s almost controllable, almost, but he’d never be gentle enough to let you savor it.

That wave of pleasure comes down like a storm. It swirls around your stomach and comes out of your urethra like a hose. You’re squirting. All over him.

“You’re a damn water fountain, baby!” He gasps, fucking his fingers into you until you finish. “Didn’t think you’d do that. Gotta give you somethin’ for that, really I do.” If you had half a brain to be enthusiastic about it you would, after all it’s some of the best news you’ve had all day. What you do instead is kick your legs at his shoulders and press your feet into his back.

When Ben pulls his fingers out they’re coated in slick, the clear, thick fluid clinging onto his fingers like glue. “Open up.” And you do. You take his fingers in your mouth like it’s normal because it is. You roll your tongue around, lick under his fingernails and nip at his callouses. He rubs the pads of his fingers on your tongue. “There you go. Tastes like money, don’t it.”

Hide & Seek ꨄ︎ oneshot?

Summary: Soldier Boy had a hard day and you're his favorite way to decompress... That and your usual predator and prey game.

Warnings: ! NSFW MDNI 18+ ! Smut, dom!soldier boy, rough sex, unprotected sex (p in v), squirting, fingering, begging, dirty talk, degrading, praise, creampie, slight hyperspermia, soft!soldier boy (sorta), afab reader insert (feminine petnames), no mentions of y/n

Words: 2.2k ~ my first posted fic asdfgghjkl enjoy! kinda obsessed with him...

You don't see him yet, but the warmth radiating from him seeps through your sleep clothes.

"What're we hidin' from, Doll?"

Your breath hitches. He found you... Again. 

"N-nothing... Just checking something." Your heart rate picks up again, a loud thump-thump-thump that tells him everything he needs to know. 

Adrenaline Rush

Pairing: Logan Howlett X Female Reader

Summary: A feral Logan shows up unannounced and fucks you dumb. That’s literally it.

Word Count: 2.5k

Disclaimers: Rough sex, somewhat non-consensual. Logan and reader are toxic fuck buddies. Lots of explicit language and graphic descriptions of sex. Fingering, oral (f receiving), fondling, p in v sex. Breath play, dom/sub dynamics, some pain play with mention of blood. A few detailed descriptions of violence. Extremely NSFW. 18+ no minors!

A/N: I was in a MOOD when I wrote this and it just kept getting more and more…toxic? Explicit? Deranged? Whatever adjective that describes when you would like to get your shit rocked by 200 pounds of pure muscle with total disregard for your well-being. That. Well, I hope someone out there relates. Enjoy!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Soldier boy comes over to help you build your desk after you struggled for a bit. Once he finishes with little to no complaints, he fucks you on it to test the durability.

𐙚 Warnings: MDNI, 18+, NSFW, rough smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, desk sex, slight choking, praise

wc: 1.7k

You really should have known better than to buy the “easy assembly” desk from that trendy online furniture place. After forty-five minutes of swearing, two broken nails, and one near-miss with a hammer to your thumb, you gave up.

Your phone was in your hand before you could talk yourself out of it.

He picked up on the second ring, voice gravelly and amused like he’d been expecting trouble. “Yeah?”

“Ben,” you said, trying not to sound as pathetic as you felt. “I need you.”

There was a low chuckle on the other end. “That’s my favorite fucking sentence, sweetheart. You wet already or what?”

You rolled your eyes, “I bought a desk. It’s in pieces. The instructions are useless. Please come over and use that ridiculous super strength for something useful.”

“You want me to play handyman?” He chuckled,  “Alright. Be there in twenty. Don’t start without me.”

True to his word, because even Soldier Boy had his rare reliable moments, he showed up at your door exactly nineteen minutes later in a faded black t-shirt that stretched obscenely across his chest and shoulders, jeans slung low, hair artfully mussed like he’d rolled out of someone’s bed and into yours. He smelled like expensive cologne, gun oil, and that unmistakable warm, masculine scent that always made your stomach flip.

He stepped inside, eyes immediately landing on the disaster zone that was your living room. One eyebrow arched.

“Jesus Christ, doll. You really tried to do this yourself?”

“I got the legs on,” you muttered defensively, gesturing at the sad half-constructed frame.

He sighed, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over your couch. The muscles in his arms flexed as he moved, and you tried very hard not to stare. Failed.

“Move,” he ordered, already crouching down. “Watch and learn.”

You expected complaints. You expected him to throw the instructions across the room and demand you suck him off as payment. Instead, Ben did it with no complaints. Large hands sorted screws with surprising precision. He didn’t even need the little Allen wrench half the time, just tightened everything down with his fingers like it was nothing. The wooden panels aligned perfectly under his grip. Within twenty minutes the desk stood proud and solid in the corner of your room, sleek modern lines, drawers sliding in smooth as butter.

He stood back, hands on his hips, looking obnoxiously pleased with himself. A thin sheen of sweat made his t-shirt cling to the hard planes of his back.

“Done,” he announced. “Told you. Easy.”

You ran your palm over the surface, impressed. Sturdy. Wide enough for your monitors, your laptop, and still room to spare. “Holy shit, Ben. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He turned toward you, eyes dragging slowly down your body. You were still in comfy leggings and an oversized tee, hair up in a messy bun, but the way he looked at you made you feel like you were wearing lingerie.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, voice dropping. “I gotta test the durability first.”

Your pulse jumped. “Ben…”

He was already moving, crowding you back against the freshly assembled desk until the edge pressed into the tops of your thighs. One big hand slid around your waist, the other braced on the surface beside you, caging you in. Heat rolled off him in waves.

“Solid construction,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “Thick top. Good weight distribution. But will it hold up when I’m balls deep in that tight little pussy, fucking you stupid?”

A shiver ran straight down your spine. Your hands came up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thunder of his heart under super-soldier muscle. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.” He nipped at your jaw, then your neck, sucking a mark that would definitely bruise. “C’mon, baby. Let me christen your new desk properly.”

You should have at least pretended to protest. Instead you tilted your head to give him better access, fingers curling into his shirt. “If you break it, you’re buying me a new one.”

He laughed against your skin, low, filthy. “Deal.”

Then he was kissing you like he’d been starving for it. Soldier Boy didn’t do soft and sweet unless he was in a rare mood; this was all tongue and teeth and possessive hunger. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your ass, sliding up under your shirt to palm your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples until they pebbled. You moaned into his mouth and he drank it down, grinding his growing erection against your stomach.

“Off,” he growled, tugging at your shirt. You helped him yank it over your head. Your bra followed seconds later, tossed somewhere behind him. He lifted you effortlessly onto the desk, the wood cool against the backs of your bare thighs. The position spread your legs around his hips and he stepped between them like he belonged there.

“Look at you,” he said, voice rough with appreciation. He cupped one breast, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger while his other hand worked your leggings down. “Sitting pretty on your fancy new desk, waiting to get fucked. My good girl.”

“Ben...” You gasped as he dragged your leggings and panties off in one go, leaving you completely bare on the smooth surface. He pushed your thighs wider apart, eyes locked on your pussy like it was his favorite meal.

He dropped to his knees.

The first swipe of his tongue had your head falling back, a broken sound escaping your throat. Soldier Boy ate pussy like he fought, aggressive, relentless, and unfairly skilled. He licked a broad stripe up your slit, then circled your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. Two thick fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling just right, pumping steadily while he devoured you.

“Fuck, Ben, oh god!” Your hands flew to his hair, gripping tight. He groaned in approval, the vibration shooting pleasure through you.

He worked you open, scissoring his fingers, adding a third when you started grinding against his face. The wet sounds were obscene in your quiet apartment. Your legs started shaking.

“That’s it,” he mumbled against your clit. “Get nice and sloppy for me. Gonna need it.”

You came hard, back arching, thighs clamping around his head. He didn’t stop, just kept licking you through it until you were whimpering and oversensitive.

When he finally stood, his mouth was shiny with your slick. He wiped it with the back of his hand, smirking like the cocky bastard he was. Then he was stripping, shirt first, revealing that ridiculous torso, then jeans and boxers shoved down. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. You reached for it instinctively but he caught your wrist.

“Nah. Not yet.” He stepped between your spread legs again, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, teasing your clit. “Want you to feel every inch when I split you open on this desk.”

He pushed in slowly, savoring it. The stretch was intense—always was with him, but you were so wet it was easy. Inch by inch he sank deeper until his hips were flush against you, buried to the hilt. You both groaned.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed, forehead pressed to yours. “Every goddamn time.”

He gave you a moment to adjust before he started moving. Slow, deep rolls of his hips at first, letting you feel the drag of every vein. The desk creaked faintly under the force but held steady. That seemed to flip a switch in him.

“Atta girl,” he praised, voice wrecked. “Taking my cock so well. This desk gonna hold up while I wreck you?”

He picked up speed, slamming into you harder. The sound of skin on skin filled the room. Your breasts bounced with every thrust and he leaned down to catch one nipple in his mouth, biting just enough to make you cry out. One of his hands wrapped around your throat.

You clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He was relentless, pounding into you with that superhuman stamina. The desk scraped against the floor a little but didn’t collapse. Good investment.

“Ben, harder,” you gasped, legs locked around his waist.

He laughed breathlessly. “Greedy little thing.” He pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss, only to flip you around. Your chest pressed against the cool desktop, ass up. He kicked your feet wider apart and thrust back in from behind in one smooth stroke.

This angle was devastating. He hit that spot inside you with every brutal snap of his hips. His hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back so he could growl in your ear.

“Gonna fuck you until this desk is the only thing keeping you upright. You hear me? Want you dripping down your thighs when I’m done.”

You could only moan in response, pushing back to meet his thrusts. He reached around to rub your clit in tight circles, the combined sensation pushing you toward the edge again embarrassingly fast.

“Come on, baby. Give it to me. Come on my cock while you’re bent over your pretty new desk like a good little slut.”

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave. You cried out his name, clenching around him so hard it dragged a guttural groan from his chest. He fucked you through it, pace faltering as he chased his own release.

“Fuck, gonna fill you up,” he snarled. A few more punishing thrusts and he stilled deep inside you, cock pulsing as he came. You felt the hot rush of it, rope after rope until it was leaking out around where you were joined.

For a long moment the only sounds were your ragged breathing. He stayed buried inside you, arms braced on either side of your body, caging you protectively against the desk.

Eventually he pulled out with a low hiss. You felt the mess immediately, his cum trickling down your inner thigh. He turned you around gently, surprisingly tender for a man who’d just railed you within an inch of your life, and lifted you to sit on the edge again.

His thumb brushed your swollen bottom lip. Green eyes searched your face, something almost soft flickering there before the smirk returned.

“Desk passed the test,” he said, voice husky. “Solid fucking investment. Maybe next time I’ll bend you over it while you’re trying to work. See how long you last typing with my dick inside you.”

You laughed weakly, still catching your breath, and pulled him in for a slow, lazy kiss. “You’re buying the next piece of furniture too.”

“Deal.” He nipped your lip. 

After losing the bet to Soldier Boy, you lay naked on the bed, wearing only lace panties, breathing heavily from his kisses on your sensitive, soft breasts. Ben let out a husky, throaty laugh as he pulled away from your hips, his green eyes darkening with a mixture of arousal and a familiar, arrogant satisfaction. The sight of you lying there, your pale skin flushed by his lips, trembling under his gaze, was exactly what he wanted. He loved having you exactly where he wanted you, especially after he made you squirm with every inch of attention.

"Fuck, y/n," he growled, wiping a string of drool from his chin with the back of his hand. "Look at you. You're dripping like a broken faucet. You're such a pathetic little slut for me, aren't you?" His smirk widened as he watched your chest rise and fall. He wasn't trying to be cute; he loved the way his words made your breathing even more ragged. He loved being the reason you couldn't think straight.

He crawled onto the bed, the muscles in his arms tensing as he leaned against you, his gray sweatpants doing nothing to hide how much he wanted to plunge inside you again. "Bet you thought you could beat me, huh?" He leaned down, his beard scratching your soft skin, and whispered in your ear, "You should have been more careful. Now you're going to pay." His hand slid down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit without a moment's hesitation. "You're going to take every damn inch I give you today, baby. And you're going to fucking love it."

The moment your fingers dug into his biceps, searching for purchase as your body pulsed with desire, Ben didn't relent. On the contrary, your desperate, needy moan only fueled his fervor. He wasn't some fucking prince who would pamper you; he was a man who took what he wanted, and now he wanted to feel you surrender completely.

His free hand shot up, his palm cupping your neck. He didn't squeeze hard enough to hurt, but the pressure was enough to remind you who was boss, making you gasp as the air momentarily thinned. The dominance in his grip was instinctive, rough, and uncompromising. "Fuck yes, cry about it," he murmured, pressing against your skin, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

Then he pressed his lips to yours. This wasn't a gentle kiss; it was a hellish collision. His lips were rough, with a hint of whiskey and tobacco, and he invaded yours with an aggressive hunger, demanding you kiss him back. His tongue darted between your teeth, tasting your arousal as he kissed you as if he were trying to devour you whole. One hand pinned you by the throat, and the other slid down your body, leaving bruises on your thighs. He wanted you marked, wanted you to remember the feel of his hands on you long after he finished fucking you senseless.

Ben pulled away from your lips with a smacking sound, leaving you wet, breathless, and stunned. He didn't give you a second to recover before sliding between your thighs again. He wanted to throw you off balance, to completely surrender you to whatever he decided to do next. When his tongue first slid over your swollen folds, you let out a broken sound, half-sob, half-moan, your hips jerking involuntarily.

"Fuck, you're so damn desperate, aren't you?" he growled, pressing against your skin, his voice muffled but oozing with scornful amusement. He found your clit with alarming precision, sucking on it so hard it sparked behind your eyelids. As you writhed beneath him, your fingers desperately tangled in his dark hair, trying to either pull him closer or push him away from the overwhelming sensations, he only dug deeper.

Suddenly, he stopped licking and jerked upward. Instead of kissing, he sank his teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh, biting so hard he left a visible mark. You cried out, but the sound was cut off by his cruel, satisfied gaze as he looked up at you, between your legs.

Asking Butcher if he’ll give you your first creampie🫣 sorry not sorry lol

Sorry this took me a while to respond to!

Claimed

MDNI!!

-Warnings: Butcher x Fem reader, unprotected sex,creampie,mutual ejaculation,praise kink,light biting,pet names, slight size difference.

-Summary: A shy confession leads to Butcher taking you raw and fast in missionary, filling you completely before pushing every drop back inside.

————

The bedroom was quiet, save for the hum of the old floorboards and the heavy, electric tension hanging between you two. You were sitting on the edge of the mattress, knees pulled up slightly, your cheeks flushed red with hesitation as you stared down at your hands.

Billy walked into the room, wiping a streak of grime from his cheek, but his eyes locked onto you immediately. He stopped, his brow furrowing as he noticed the way you were fidgeting, looking smaller and uncharacteristically shy.

He closed the distance between you, dropping down on the bed right beside you. His voice dropped into that rough, low rumble, completely stripped of its usual bite. "Oi, what’s up wiv you, pet? You look like you seen a ghost. Come on, talk to me. What’s wrong?"

You swallowed hard, looking away before whispering, "I'm just..I'm embarrassed, Billy."

A slow, dark heat flared in his eyes. The idea of you sitting there, all flustered and shy over him, hit him right in the chest. He let out a low coo, reaching out to hook a warm, heavy hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Embarrassed? 'Bout what, sweetheart? Nothin' to be shy 'bout wiv me. Tell me. Go on."

"I..i want you to give me my first creampie," you blurted out, your voice dropping to a breathless whisper as your face burned bright red.

Billy let out a sharp, ragged intake of breath, his pupils blowing wide. That raw, filthy admission acted like a match to a powder keg, sending a violent spike of desire straight to his groin. His cock hardened instantly against his trousers, heavy and aching.

"Ffuckin' 'ell," he growled, the rough accent of his voice thick with sudden, ravenous hunger. " Yer want that, do ya? Yer want me to fill yer right up?"

Before you could even answer, he was moving, his hands gripping the waistband of your trousers and your panties in one rough motion, dragging them down your legs in a single fluid flick and kicking them aside. He didn't waste a second trying to prep you with his fingers..he wanted you tight, wanted you feeling every thick inch of him stretching you wide open.

"I ain't gettin' yer ready wiv my fingers," he rasped, dropping an octave as he shoved your legs apart and climbed right up on top of you, shifting you back onto the bed until you were flat on your back beneath him. "I want yer stretched. I want yer feelin' every bit of me right from the start."

He ripped open his fly, freeing his throbbing, heavy cock, and lined himself up at your entrance. You were already soaked, slick heat coating your thighs, practically dripping for him. Without a moment of hesitation, he pushed straight inside you in one brutal, gorgeous thrust.

"Bloody 'ell," Butcher hissed, his head dropping back as the friction of your unreadied heat slammed into him like a physical blow.

You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you to the hilt, the sudden, unpadded width stretching your walls so intensely that your breath hitched. "Billy—it's too much, it's—it's too good," you choked out, your vision swimming from the overwhelming, burning friction of him resting deep inside you without any prep.

He looked down at you, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with absolute possession as he locked his weight into place above you in missionary. "Shh, yer alright," he cooed roughly, leaning down to press a harsh, demanding kiss to your lips before pulling back. "Yer can take it, love. I know what yer little body can handle. Just take it all."

And then he started moving, driving into you in a heavy, relentless rhythm that had the bedframe violently creaking against the wall. Every time he pulled back and slammed back down, the stretch was profound, electric, and dizzying, making you sob out his name against the sheets.

"Look at me," he panted, his voice a gravelly rasp as he hammered into you in missionary, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "Yer so bloody soaked for me. Take it, pet."

The friction was building too fast, a white hot coil tightening low in your stomach. Butcher heard your broken whines, saw the way your eyes rolled back, and a rough, possessive grin crossed his face.

"That's it, love," he growled, driving into you deeper, harder, punishing yer wiv his pace. "Come on for me. Cum right on my cock, let me feel yer squeeze me."

The command pushed you over the edge. You shattered around him, an intense wave of pleasure ripping through you as you convulsed tightly against his length, crying out as you came hard over his thick cock. In the throes of your climax, you grabbed his forearm, sinking your teeth down in a hard, semi biting grip that drew a sharp, pleased hiss from his throat.

"That's it…bite me,mark me love," he rasped, his own control snapping completely under the dual sensation of your teeth and your tight walls milking him.

He let out a raw, guttural groan, his hips bucking hard as he buried himself as deep as he could possibly go. "Fuck—I'm comin'!" he breathed out harshly.

Instead of staying still, the moment he emptied himself in a hot, thick rush deep inside your walls, he pulled his softening length right back out. Before you could even process the sudden emptiness, his thick, calloused fingers pressed against your opening, scooping and pushing every drop of his heavy release right back up inside yer.

"Can't be lettin' any of that go to waste, now can we, pet?" he rumbled, his fingers working it deep inside, ensurin' yer were completely stuffed wiv him. "Stay full of me, sweetheart. Every last drop where it belongs."

———-

Yesssssssss

Explicit/16+ - oral sex, deepthroating, cum swallowing, sub leaning Butcher - gn!reader

Summary: You're feeling insecure, Soldier boy drags you to a mirror and pounds confidence into you.

ꨄ︎ Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, slight choking, smut, mirror sex, rough sex, fingering, p in v, insecure reader, heavy praise kink.

wc: 700

You stood barefoot in front of the massive floor-length mirror that took up most of one wall in the bedroom, arms crossed tight over your stomach like that could hide anything. The black dress you’d chosen for tonight clung to every curve, every soft place, every imperfection you couldn’t stop cataloging. The lights felt too harsh. Your reflection stared back at you, tired eyes, the way your thighs touched, the faint lines on your hips that no amount of Vought-level skincare could erase.

You looked ordinary. And Ben was anything but.

You didn’t hear him until the heavy click of his boots echoed across the marble. He stopped in the doorway. His green eyes narrowed the second he saw you hunched in on yourself.

“The hell is this?” His voice was rough, “You were supposed to be ready, doll.”

You tried to laugh it off, but it came out shaky. “It’s nothing. The dress just doesn’t look right tonight.”

Ben crossed the room coming up behind you. The heat of his body pressed against your back instantly. One large hand settled on your hip, fingers splaying wide.

“Bullshit,” he muttered, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Talk.”

You swallowed hard, eyes dropping to the floor. “I just don’t feel good enough. Not next to you. My body’s not...” You gestured vaguely at the mirror. “It’s not like the girls you used to have. I’ve got stretch marks and I just look tired and...”

“Eyes up.” He caught your chin between his fingers and tilted your face back toward the glass. “You don’t get to look away when I’m talking to you.”

His other hand slid down your side, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of your waist. “You think I don’t see you? I see every fucking thing, sweetheart. And I still can’t keep my hands off you.”

He tugged the zipper down your back with a single smooth pull. The dress whispered to the floor, leaving you in nothing but black lace panties and a matching bra that suddenly felt too small under his gaze.

Ben’s eyes darkened in the reflection. “Fuck me,” he breathed, almost reverent. He palmed your breasts from behind, squeezing them together, thumbs circling your nipples through the thin fabric until they hardened. 

He pinched one just hard enough to make you gasp. 

“This ass?” His hands dropped lower, gripping fistfuls of soft flesh and spreading you slightly. “I dream about this ass bouncing on my cock. These thighs?” He gave one a light slap that made the skin jiggle. “I want them wrapped around my head while I eat you out.”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t look away. His words were crude and they were sinking into the cracks of your insecurity.

He hooked his fingers into your panties and dragged them down your legs, letting them catch at your ankles before you kicked them away. One thick finger traced through your folds, finding you slick already. He let out a low, satisfied chuckle.

“Always so wet for me. Your body knows what it wants even when your being fuckin’ stupid.”

You whimpered as he circled your clit lazily. Behind you, he shoved his pants down just enough to free himself. His cock was heavy against your ass, thick, veined, already leaking at the tip. He rubbed it between your cheeks, teasing.

“Hands on the glass,” he ordered. “Don’t you fucking move them.”

You braced your palms against the cool mirror, breath fogging the surface. Ben lined up and pushed in with one deep, relentless thrust. The stretch made your mouth fall open in a silent cry. He was so big, so much, filling you until you felt him in your stomach.

“Watch,” he growled, starting to move, slow, grinding rolls of his hips that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. “Watch how pretty you look taking my cock.”

The mirror showed everything: your flushed chest, the way your breasts swayed with each thrust, the desperate expression on your face. Ben’s hand came around to rub your clit in tight, perfect circles while the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.

“That’s it, doll. Look at those tits bouncing for me. Look how your pussy’s creaming all over my dick.” His thrusts picked up speed, deeper, harder, the wet slap of skin echoing obscenely. “You think any of those Vought sluts could take me like this? No. Only you. This body was built for me.”

Your arms started to shake. Pleasure coiled tight in your belly, but he wasn’t letting you tip over yet. He pulled out suddenly, spun you around, and lifted you onto the edge of the nearby dresser so you were still facing the mirror sideways. Then he was back inside you in one brutal thrust, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Eyes on us,” he panted against your neck, biting down just hard enough to mark. “See how fucking gorgeous you are when I’m ruining you.”

He fucked you like he was trying to prove a point, deep, punishing strokes that made the dresser knock against the wall. Sweat slicked your skin. Your moans turned into broken cries of his name. Every time your eyes fluttered shut, he’d grip your jaw and force them open again.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice ragged. “Tell me what you are.”

“I’m, fuck, Ben, I’m yours,” you gasped.

“Louder. Tell the mirror how pretty you look getting fucked stupid.”

“I look pretty,” you sobbed, the words finally breaking through the doubt. “I’m pretty, god, please!”

That was all it took. He slammed into you harder, thumb pressing firm on your clit, and the orgasm crashed over you like a wave. Your whole body seized, walls fluttering around his thick length as you came with a sharp cry, eyes locked on your wrecked reflection, lips swollen, hair wild, skin glowing with sweat and marks from his hands.

Ben followed right after with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and spilling deep inside you, hips stuttering through the aftershocks.

For a minute, the only sound was both of you trying to catch your breath. He stayed buried inside, arms wrapped around you like he wasn’t ready to let go yet. His lips brushed your temple, surprisingly gentle.

“You listen to me,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Next time that voice in your head starts lying, I’m dragging you right back here. Gonna fuck you in front of this mirror until the only thing you believe is how goddamn perfect you are. Got it?”

You nodded, pressing your face into his neck. “Got it.”

Soldier Boy x Reader

SMUT SMUT AND MORE SMUT

Short fanfic

You didn't mean for this to happen. It just did. Ben has been inside of you for hours now. Originally, you had told your dad you were hanging out with Ben just for old times sake. Just like you did when you were little. But now look at you. So filled with him, so needy for him. It was borderline pathetic.

He grips your hips, starting up his thrusts again.

"That's a good doll... Good doll..." He huskily whispers in your ear, the wet sound of him pounding into your cum filled hole, along with your moans and his groans filling the room of your apartment.

Again, you didn't mean for this to happen. Watching TV one moment, then making out the next, and now he's deep inside of you. What were you supposed to do? You've always had a crush on him. He's hot, he knows it. But he's also a dick.

His arms bring your legs up higher, thrusting deeper into you. You moan loudly.

"Ben! Oh fuck!"

"That's it, doll... So good f'me..."

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer once again as he drives his cock into you deeper.

This was better than any fuck you've ever had in your life. You don't want it to end. Don't want it to be the last time you ever feel so full, so perfect, so wonderful. You're high off of his cock and his words. It's perfect. This is perfect.

He can tell you're close, and that causes a cocky grin to form on his lips.

"There it is..." He groans.

With one final thrust, you both cum. A gasp coming from both of you.

He pants, falling on top of you, and you hold him close. Needing him close after what you two just did.

"That's it, dolly..."