That Boy is Corrupt…

When you get home, you don’t stand a chance. He’s sitting on the bed with his legs spread and the vibrator in his hands, a cocky smirk on his handsome face.

“Right here, sweetheart.” He beckons you with two fingers, and you swallow. You can’t help but obey. Dean’s got a hold on you that he still doesn’t fully understand, and if he told you to fall to your knees, you press your cheek against his thick thigh and beg him to put himself in your mouth.

Instead, tonight, he holds you right above him, one massive hand on your waist and the other pressing the head of the vibrator between your thighs. You tremble, clinging to broad, thick shoulders, panting his name as the pleasurable sensation becomes too much to bear. Dean smirks, dragging the toy back and forth, drawing slow, grounding circles on your hip with his thumb.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he coos, watching your every nervous reaction, drinking up your every moan with a smug grin. “Feels so good, doesn’t it? Makes you just wanna fall apart, get really messy, standing up and beggin’ for some more.”

You moan, face burning and body alight with need. Dean drags your panties to the side, pressing the vibrator against your bare clit. You almost jump, but he tugs you right up to his chest, splaying his free hand on your lower back. The feeling is almost too much to bear. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything but stare at Dean with teary eyes and try not to let your knees give out.

“You’re gettin’ close,” he grunts, because he always knows. “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

You whimper and pull at his hair. He grunts, pressing his face into your neck, and sucks and kisses his way over the soft skin. Up your throat, along your jaw, right to your ear. He nips softly, and whispers in a low, rough voice.

“Let go, pretty girl. Cum all over my fuckin’ hand.”

The orgasm crashes through you, white-hot and wet. You pussy gushes, your eyes roll, and your legs finally give, sending you right into Dean’s lap. He catches you easily, keeping the vibrator pressed against your overstimulated cunt. You writhe and push at his chest, almost unable to take another second, but still grinding down into the overwhelming pleasure. Dean kisses you, deep and bruising, and finally pulls the vibrator away.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, leaving light kisses all over your face. “Never gonna get enough of watchin’ you fall apart, baby. Fuckin’ never.”

✦Dean Masterlist - Main Masterlist - read on AO3!✦

✦Author's Note: this one is very specfically self-indulgant i fear but i hope you enjoyed it as well

mean!soldier boy who doesn’t let you do a thing in the bedroom. makes you his personal pillow princess, fucktoy, who he can do anything with. you want to cum? well, you better ask for permission. if he spits or cums in your mouth, you’re also not allowed to swallow unless he says so

mean!soldier boy who manhandles you like it’s second nature, with that increased strength of his he can fuck you however he wants. can lift you in his arms and rail you in the middle of the room whilst standing. bends your body to his will, has you in any position that he wants; what you want doesn’t matter, he’ll get you off any way he wishes

mean!soldier boy who gets pissed if you shave. he makes it abundantly clear how he likes your body - specifically down there. he won’t touch you until it grows back, ‘like it’s supposed to be’. he’ll throw out all your razors if he has to, just so that he has you exactly how he wants, no matter how angry you might get. eventually, as always, you’ll give in

mean!soldier boy who loves leaving marks on you. like you’re his property. like a stamp that tells anyone who glances your way to not even attempt to sway your desires not like it’d work anyways. he wants people to see them, at your throat, jaw, even your thighs especially if you wear a skirt or a pair of shorts. almost like he’s wanting people to look

mean!soldier boy who loves to see you beg and cry for him. who smushes your face in his big hand whilst he’s fucking you, getting off on the wet glaze in your eyes, running down your face. he smirks as you plead for him, nails clawing at his arms. wanting to cum, needing more of him somehow

mean!soldier boy who gropes and smacks your ass as he walks by, teasing you until you become desperate. doesn’t matter who’s around, he’ll do it regardless. he’s humored when you get embarrassed, and it only ends with you becoming needy for him

mean!soldier boy who laughs at the idea of you being in charge in the bedroom 👀 humiliates you if you ever bring the idea up. and even if you don’t, he’ll randomly mention it whilst he’s inside of you. laugh about it, knowing that you’d never try to overpower him even if you physically couldn’t because it’d be a pathetic attempt. he’d love to see you try though, just so he could laugh about it

“the fuck do you want..” you sigh exaggeratedly. “look if you’re here to rant about Homelander you can do it in the morn-“ you were cut off by his hands grabbing your face and pulling you in for a ravenous kiss, the taste of gin flooded your mouth and his scent of cigarettes dipped in arousal hit your nostrils; his fingers cupping your face whilst his tongue fights for dominance in your mouth. You moan into the kiss whilst he pushes you back, his leg shutting the door with one foot before he shoves you down in the bed. “I need you dollface, and i’m tired of waiting.” His voice echoed through your ears.

You gasp softly, glaring up at him with narrowed brows, “Soldier boy, we can’t— this is unprofessional!” you whisper yell at him but he just chuckles, his rough voice corrupting the innocent air of your bedroom. “Unprofessional? You think I give a fuck what these vought fuckers want? nah.. sweetheart, you know we both want this.” he smirks and you suck in a harsh breathe, glaring up at him through wet lashes as he stares at you from the foot of your bed. Suddenly you weren’t so tired anymore.

Soldier boy who pounds into you like it’s his last time ever fucking you. Calloused hands gripping your hips, leaving maroon bruises to wake at his every touch. “Fuck, baby, the way you’re taking my cock.. it’s like you were made for this..” he groans almost animalistic but without a doubt unholy. “..made ‘f me..” he whispers as he leans down into your ear, cock hitting impossibly deeper inside of you; his pace only getting faster and harder.

Soldier boy who mocks you when you try to ride him. It’s not your fault, his 8 inch godly dick isn’t easy to get used to. “this your way of showing your appreciation for me fighting for this country?” He scoffed, but it was most of a chuckle, one brow raised with his eyes hooded. “i’m so fucking grateful.” you teased before you inched your body down onto his cock, mouth hung open as you felt the pain of the stretch, yet the pleasure hit to quickly. “god— dollface.. you’re really impressin’ me..” he groans as he grabs your chin to bring you into a quick kiss before you begin grinding down on his cock. “didn’t think you’d be able to handle it.” — “fucked a lot of girls who thought they could take me, all they did was disappoint, but you.. you’re quite somethin’ “

His tip slick with desire. Your juices pooling at his lower abdomen and into his bushy pelvis. Your fingers were tangled in his hair as you found the strength to bounce lightly, not too fast, you didn't want to tire yourself out too quick, even though you were a supe, you had your limits, and you wanted to prove yourself to him, show him you’re not just another one of the ‘pussies of this generation’ and that you can take him so well since due to his years of sexual experience, he definitely has his standards during sex, and he could definitely tell that you’re worthy of his cock.

Your pace grew faster, and his groans turned into primal moans. Loud and clear for the whole tower to hear, “this what you’ve been dreaming of? hm?” your eyes shut tight from the pleasure of his fat cock inside of you, he smacks your face to bring you back to reality, “answer me.”

“yes.. yes.. it’s all i’ve been dreaming— ahh..! fuck— it’s all i’ve been dreaming of!” He found himself gripping onto your hips, giving your ass a harsh smack that’s bound to leave a mark for days and adjusting you to his desired speed, pounding his cock up into your sweet cunt. “good fucking girl, that’s what I like to hear. You make me so fucking proud.”

You were grinding down harder on him since you felt his cock twitch inside of you, knowing he was close. "i’m gonna nut inside of you, babydoll." he groaned, “and you’re going to fucking take it, you’re gonna take all of it.” you moaned at that, voice of an angel though the contrasting sounds of skin slapping and slick noises filled the void of the bedroom. His groans were now moans, lustful, raw, pornographic moans.

he grabbed your face, pulling you in for one last kiss before spilling his seed into you, “and don’t you dare think of wasting it.” Your mixed juices were seeping down his cock, now pooling on his pelvis. The adrenaline hit you, and you didn't even feel your thighs burning from bounces so hard onto his cock.

Soldier boy who praises you, “you took me so well, sugar, let’s go another round.” but even when you shake your head and insist that you really couldn’t, he pushes you to your limits. That’s how you find yourself getting folded and put into 3 different positions for the rest of the night, moaning, screaming and sobbing on his cock and from his words.

⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹

Your elbow rested against the passenger door, watching the fireflies flicker between the trees.

“They’re everywhere.” You murmured and Logan glanced towards the woods before looking back at the bumpy, unpaved road.

“Happens every summer.”

“I’ve never seen this many before.” You looked over at him with a smile.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, as silence settled between you. It was never an uncomfortable silence, it was never a silence that needed to be filled. It was something to share.

His left hand stayed relaxed on the steering wheel, and his right hand, found its way to your thigh.

You could feel the warmth of his hand through your denim jeans. The weight of his hand was light, not possessive or demanding, but there.

It’s like as though, somewhere along the drive, touching you had become as natural as breathing.

You smiled to yourself, careful not to call attention to it. This version of Logan was rare—so rare you found yourself quietly memorizing it. Most days he was gone with the X-Men, disappearing for missions that lasted days, sometimes weeks. And when he was home, there was always an invisible line he refused to cross.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to touch you. It was because he wanted to.

Logan had spent months convincing himself that distance was safer.

A hand that longed to rest against the small of your back would stop inches short instead. Fingers that ached to lace themselves between yours stayed buried in his jacket pockets.

Goodnight kisses were always gentle, always brief, as though lingering for even a second longer might tempt fate.

It was never because he didn't love you. It was because he did.

You were human.

Wonderfully, painfully human.

You didn't have accelerated healing coursing through your veins. Your skin bruised. Your bones broke. A deep enough cut wouldn't disappear in seconds, it would leave a nasty scar against your beautiful skin.

You felt pain the way ordinary people did, and Logan knew better than anyone how quickly an ordinary life could be changed forever.

He knew how dangerous he was and could be. Every touch was measured, every embrace was restrained. Even something as simple as wrapping his arm around you was calculated. Not too tight. Remember your strength. Be careful.

He had lived as a weapon for so long that he no longer trusted the line between instinct and intention.

Somewhere beneath his skin rested three razor-sharp claws in each hand, waiting for a moment of fear, surprise, or instinct. He'd awakened from nightmares with them already extended. He'd driven them through walls without meaning to. Through doors. Through mattresses.

What if, one day, it wasn't a wall? What if it was you?

That question haunted every quiet moment between you. But the cruelest part was that you had never once looked at him with fear.

You loved him with an openness that still bewildered him. You reached for his hand without hesitation. You leaned into his side on the couch. You kissed him like the danger hidden in hands weren't something to pity or fear, but simply another part of the man you'd fallen hopelessly in love with.

You never asked for perfection.

You never asked him to be anyone other than Logan.

You just wanted him. Needed him.

Somehow... that made him even more afraid of losing control. Because for the first time in a very long life, he had someone fragile enough to break—and precious enough that the thought of being the one to hurt you was unbearable.

When the cabin came into view, you couldn’t help but to get excited. No cell service, no distractions, just you and Logan alone in a cabin.

“There it is.” He said as you took it all in. “It’s not much, but it’s a nice getaway.”

The cabin was older, but it had a wrap around porch with a porch swing, and off to the side a hot tub. He saw where your attention had landed and he smiled, “That’s new. Thought you’d enjoy it, so I came out a few weeks ago to hook it up. I also added some of those fancy outdoor lights that should come on about…now.”

Light illuminated the cabin and your grip on his hand tightened.

You understood his worries about him wanting to be careful, but you also felt there was no reason to live in constant fear. Because love wasn't meant to be lived at arm's length.

You couldn't spend forever letting fear make decisions for both of you.

You were human. Completely, undeniably human, and you knew that made you more vulnerable than the people Logan usually surrounded himself with. You knew you bruised, bled, and healed the ordinary way.

You knew exactly who he was and you had chosen him anyway. Not because you believed he could never hurt you.

But because you believed that every careful touch, every hesitant kiss, every moment he spent worrying over your safety had already proven the kind of man he really was.

Logan didn't fear losing control because he was reckless. He feared it because he loved you.

And somewhere deep in your heart, you hoped this little cabin, hidden from the rest of the world, might finally become the place where he stopped seeing himself as something you needed protection from. And started believing he was simply the man you wanted to come home to.

• • •

By the time all the groceries and luggage had been put away, it was already dark outside. The cabin was warm with the fireplace lit, filling the room with the scent of cedar and smoke.

Rain had pattered loudly against the roof, its steady rhythm making the cabin feel more cozy than it already was.

Logan sat the rest of the bags in the room, and disappeared back into the kitchen to fix a pot of coffee. Despite the late hour, he decided he needed a cup.

You peeked around the corner of the hallway, and sure enough he was pulling out his coffee maker and setting it up.

Quickly, you darted back into the bedroom. It was a simple room; a handmade quilt was spread across the queen sized bed, and on each side of the bed was a nightstand.

A dresser with a mirror was right next to the window, and a lamp sat on a small table next to it, casting a warm glow on the old floorboards.

Your hands rested against the dresser and you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Your overnight bag was sat open on the edge of the bed.

You knew what you had packed. For weeks, you debated whether to bring it at all. Not because you expected anything to happen, but you hoped.

Logan had spent months holding himself back. Every kiss ended before it became difficult. Every embrace carried the careful restraint of a man who never stopped thinking about the damage he might accidentally do.

He loved you. You never doubted that, not even for a second.

Slowly, you reached into the bottom of your overnight bag, fingers brushing over delicate chiffon before lifting the nightgown free.

The fabric was the palest shade of lavender, and it was soft with an intricate floral pattern with narrow satin ribbon rested at the center, tied into a small bow that made it sweet. Matching lace panties completed the set, simple and elegant, tucked neatly beneath the folds of the fabric.

You held it up, bringing your lip between you teeth, debating whether or not to test the waters.

Tonight, for the first time, you wanted him to know there was nothing left you were hiding from him. You trusted him. Completely.

• • •

A few minutes later, Logan had poured two hot, fresh cups of coffee and sat them on the counter.

“Y/N, you alright in there?” He called toward the hallway.

When you didn’t respond, he frowned. “Baby, you alright?”

The bedroom door creaked open,"I'm alright.” you answered, though your voice was quieter than usual.

Your heart was hammering so loudly in your chest that you wondered if he could hear it. Of course he could.

"Honey..." he said with a small, concerned frown. "You sure? Your heart's beatin' like—"

He stepped around the corner, and the rest of the sentence was stuck in his throat. For a moment, the world simply stopped.

You stood just beyond the bedroom doorway, one hand resting against the wooden frame as though it were the only thing keeping you steady.

The soft lavender babydoll drifted gently around you, the delicate chiffon catching the dim lamp light with every nervous breath.

Logan didn’t move and he didn’t blink. His eyes met yours for only a moment before dropping toward the floor, as if looking any longer might betray every thought racing through his mind.

The silence was long, and you felt every second of it. Heat rushed to your cheeks, "Say something," you murmured, laughing softly. "You're making me think I should've packed sweatpants."

He looked up into your eyes, “No.” The word came out rougher than he'd intended.

"No..." He swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for the right words. "Don't... don't say that."

His voice was barely above a whisper now. "You look..." He stopped again. “Beautiful.”

His chest rose slowly as he let out a careful breath.

"I've never..." He gave a faint, almost embarrassed shake of his head. "I don't think anybody's ever looked at me the way you're lookin' at me right now."

You smiled, some of your nerves melting away. "I'm looking at the man I love."

His jaw tightened. That simple sentence hit him harder than anything else could have. Because all he could think was that the woman standing in front of him, who was completely human, and impossibly trusting, had placed every ounce of her heart in the hands of a man who had spent a lifetime believing his own were too dangerous to hold it.

Something had changed in his expression; a thought, an emotional conflict. His eyes linger for a moment longer, and he took a slow step back.

He shook his head, “You don’t know what you’re askin’ me.”

You cross the room, stopping in front of him, “I do though.”

"No..." His voice is quiet, almost pleading. "You think this is me bein' noble. It ain't. It's me knowin' what I am."

Your hand cupped his cheek and he couldn’t help but to lean into your touch, “Look at me you whispered.

He looked into your eyes reluctantly, "Have I ever asked you to be anyone other than Logan?"

No answer.

"Have I ever looked at you and seen a monster?"

"No."

"Then stop deciding what I'm afraid of." You said as you took another step closer. Every part of him wanted to close the distance, to wrap his arms around you and forget the fear that had lived beneath his skin for years.

Instead, he dragged a hand over his face.

"Logan..." you whispered.

He shook his head, "If I cross this line..." He paused, “I don't know if I'll be able to keep stoppin'."

Her expression softened, and she looked up at him.

"Is that what you've been doing?"

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head, "Every day."

You closed the distance yourself, stopping just close enough that you could take his hand."You've spent months protecting me." Your fingers threaded between his, as you stood on your tiptoes.

"Tonight, let me show you that I don't need protecting from you."

Logan's thumb brushed over her knuckles, as his other hand found its way to hover over her waist.

You smiled through the tears beginning to gather. "I know exactly who I'm standing in front of."

"Do you?" He questioned, searching for the truth in your eyes.

"I do.” You squeezed his hand, "I'm standing in front of the kindest man I've ever known."

He looked away, a smile tugging at his lips.

"You keep sayin' things like that."

"Because they're true." You responded.

"You’re making it real hard to keep my distance."

Your nose brushed his chin, “Then don’t.”

Logan tipped your chin back so he could see all of your face. He searched your face one last time, looking for even the smallest hint of uncertainty.

He found none. Only trust, and only love. His hand rose carefully, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that seemed at odds with the scars covering his knuckles.

"Last chance," he murmured.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes, "I've already made my choice."

For one moment, neither of you moved. Until you closed the distance.

Your lips met his first—softly at first. He kissed back deeply, with all the longing he'd kept hidden behind careful smiles and shortened embraces. His free hand found the small of your back, still hovering, attempting to hold you close while still mindful of every ounce of his strength.

You rose onto your toes, your fingers slipping into his hair as you returned the kiss with equal certainty, refusing to let him retreat into fear again.

You both broke apart only long enough to catch a breath, your foreheads rested together.

Logan's eyes remained closed, as his breathing was quick, “You're gonna be the end of me," he whispered with the faintest smile.

You laughed softly, brushing your thumb across the stubble on his cheek.

"No." He opened his eyes, "I'm going to be your beginning."

That was all it took for him to lift you from off the floor, and bring you close to his chest. Your lips reconnected with his, as his hands slipped up past lace and silk, his big hands grabbing your ass.

You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he gently pressed your back against the wall. He held you there long enough to press hungry kisses from your jawline, to the curvature of your breasts.

Logan slid his hand to cup the back of your head, and pulled you away from the wall. He carried you into the bedroom, reconnecting your lips as he laid you gently against the mattress.

Your heart raced as his jeans rubbed roughly against the bare skin of your thighs. You deepen the kiss, and something in him breaks; a quiet groan in the back of his throat as your fingers slip into his hair. You feel the scrape of his stubble, the warmth of his breath. He tastes like black coffee.

When you pull back, your forehead rests against his, and neither of you speaks for a moment. The silence says everything: I see you. I want you. All of it.

And then his voice, low and rough, he asks,You sure about this?"

You nodded, “Yes. More than anything.”

His touch is warm, rough; his calloused palms tracing your skin like he's memorizing it. When he finally lets his gaze drop, there's nothing hungry or careless in it. Just need.

Logan held himself up with one arm, as he reconnected your lips. With his other hand, his fingers are feather like as he traces down, and begins to remove your panties down your thighs.

His hand hovered over your heat, and you moan at the rush of cold air. His hand moves with slow, confident pressure, fingers parting your folds and exploring that slick heat between your legs. His voice is low, gravelly, filled with want, but tender.

"Damn, you're so wet for me.” he said against your lips. He decided to test the waters further, and he inserted one finger inside of you, “Look at you—you’re already wrapping around me.”

Logan groaned at the lewd sounds coming from you. A smock as you wanted him to continue, you reached for his bicep and pulled him up.

You slowly sat up, your hand finding the middle of his chest to steady yourself as he instinctively slipped an arm around your lower back.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Your eyes searched his, silently asking the same question you'd been asking all evening.

Is this okay?

He answered with the smallest nod.

Your fingers found the top button of his faded red flannel. One by one, you worked them free.

Logan never looked away. He was completely focused on your every facial expression; he was in a trance. His breathing had slowed, but only because he was making it.

When the last button came undone, you eased the flannel from his shoulders. It slipped down his arms and he closed his eyes as your finger tips traced down his arms.

Beneath it was the charcoal-gray T-shirt he'd worn since that morning. Your fingertips brushed the hem, pausing just long enough for him to stop you if he wanted. He didn't.

Instead, his hand covered yours for the briefest moment.

"You sure?" he asked quietly and you smiled.

"I've never been more sure."

He closed his eyes for a second, letting out a slow breath before lifting his arms. You caught the edge of his shirt and gently drew it upward.

The fabric dragged over the planes of his shoulders before disappearing over his head.

When he lowered his arms again, he hovered before you with a vulnerability few people had ever been trusted to see.

The lamp light danced across a broad chest and powerful shoulders shaped by decades of hard living rather than vanity.

Muscle lay beneath his skin, but it was the countless scars that drew your attention first. Thin white lines crossed older wounds. Some looked like they had faded with time, while others remained jagged reminders of battles long since finished. Every mark belonged to a story he rarely told.

To anyone else, they might have looked intimidating, but to you they weren’t.

You lifted your hand carefully, your fingertips tracing one pale scar across his shoulder. Logan watched as you traced his scar with your fingers, and gently you pressed a kiss to one scar, and then moved on to the next.

Logan's breath caught. No one had ever done this. Most people stared. Some looked away. Others asked questions he had no desire to answer.

Slowly, almost as though he was afraid a sudden movement would break the moment, his hand lifted. His knuckles brushed lightly beneath your chin.

"So beautiful..." he murmured, the words escaping before he could stop them. With the gentlest touch, he tipped your chin upward until your eyes met his.

His thumb brushed softly along your jaw.

"You still got time to change your mind," he whispered.

You smiled, your eyes warm, “I’m not changing my mind. I want you. I trust you.”

For a moment, he simply searched your face. Then he leaned down and closed the distance between you. His lips found yours in a slow, lingering kiss. It wasn't rushed.

You melted into him, your hands finding the front of his chest before one drifted up around the back of his neck.

His other hand, still hovered even though his arm settled on the middle of your back moments before. He was scared he’d lose control, because he had never wanted someone so badly in his entire life.

You reached around yourself and gently took his hand in yours, and placed it against your back. He froze.

His broad palm lay flat against you, barely applying any pressure at all. “You don't have to be afraid to hold me," you whispered.

A slow breath escaped him, and some of the tension left his shoulders. He leans back just enough to move, working at his belt with one hand, the other still anchored to your hip like he needs you close.

The sound of his belt sliding through denim fills the quiet room, followed by the sound of his zipper. You watch, your pulse pounding, and you’re more than sure he can hear it.

Once he freed himself from his jeans, you took a breath in. He was thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip.

His hands trailed up your body, grabbing your thighs and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

He gently pushed the lingerie up your body, and pressed a kiss to your knee, then your thigh, and he worked his way up to your navel, as one hand gently squeezed your breast.

Your back arched, desperate for his touch. He smiled, as his finger traced through your wet folds once more.

By the time he settled between your thighs, he looked up at you, his eyes dark, his voice a whisper against your skin.

“How long have you been thinking about this?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. You opened your mouth to respond, but his mouth was already against you.

At first he licked slowly, and he held your thighs down. But the moment you started moaning his name, something in him snapped.

His mouth became rough, unrelenting. No teasing. No hesitation. He devoured you like he needed you to live. Like he was starving.

His tongue worked you over with practiced, punishing precision. Your fingers tangled in his hair, as he gripped your thighs to keep you from squirming.

You moaned as you fell apart on his tongue, and he pushed a finger inside of you until you were shaking from how sensitive you were.

After being content with his work, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, to your pelvic bone, and under your navel.

Logan finally pulled himself up the mattress to press a kiss to your lips. You could taste yourself on him, his scruff still damp.

You spread your legs wider allowing him to settle comfortably in between your legs, "You're beautiful," he says like it’s factual, not a compliment.

You lean forward, kissing him again-deeper this time, need rising just beneath the surface. He kisses you back like he's starved, like every second he went without this was a second too long.

Your hands traced down his sides, and gently you held his throbbing cock in your hand. "You sure about this?" he asks low, voice edged with restraint.

With a nod, you closed the distance between your lips, and brought the tip of his cock in between your slick folds.

You gasped into his mouth, and his head fell to your shoulder, groaning in your ear. Something in him clicked, and slowly he put just the tip in.

The stretch burned but felt so good at the same time. His forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven as he fought to steady himself. Both of his hands were planted on either side of your head, the sheets twisted tightly beneath his grip.

His eyes squeezed shut.

"Logan..." you whispered and he shook his head once. “Don’t move.” Before you could ask why, you heard it.

A familiar metallic snikt broke the silence, his claws had extended, and tore into the sheets. Logan’s body went completely rigid.

He stared at the gleaming adamantium with quiet horror, every muscle locking as if he were afraid that even breathing might make things worse.

"Damn it," he whispered.

He immediately shifted his weight away from you, trying to put distance between you and the blades.

Before he could retreat, your hand found his wrist. "Logan."

"I lost it for a second." He said sweat dripping from his forehead. You pushed yourself up a little, he was still between your legs, and your hand went to his cheek, "Look at me."

He couldn't.

"Please."

Slowly, his eyes lifted to yours. There was no fear in them, only concern for you.

You wrapped your other hand gently around his forearm, careful and deliberate. The claws retracted slowly, and you looked into his eyes.

"You're here," you said softly. "You're with me."

His breathing was still ragged, "You stopped."

He swallowed hard and responded, "As soon as I felt it."

You nodded, "Exactly." Your thumb brushed lightly across the back of his hand. "Your first instinct wasn't to hurt me. It was to protect me."

He covered your hand with his own, his calloused thumb brushing gently across your knuckles.

Something in his expression finally softened. The tension he'd carried for so long eased, replaced by a quiet tenderness that reached all the way to his eyes.

"I love you," he said, the words rough with emotion. You smiled, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes."I love you too."

Logan cupped your face with both hands, as though he still couldn't quite believe you were real. His forehead rested against yours for and he smiled—a small, genuine smile that belonged only to you.

"C'mere," he murmured.

He leaned in and kissed you again, slow and unhurried, with all the affection he'd spent months keeping carefully tucked away, holding you close as the rain blurred the window.

The head of his cock pushes against your entrance - slow, deliberate, making you feel every inch. He's big. Thick. You brace your hands around his biceps, needy, and he lets out a low groan that sounds like it's been building for weeks.

"Fuck, look at you," he murmurs, running a rough hand up your spine. "Takin' me so good."

He starts to move, hips snapping forward, hard enough to jolt you forward on the bed. You gasp, digging your nails into the sheets, and he grips your waist tighter, one hand slipping around to rub slow, firm circles over your clit.

"Not too much?" he asks, breath hot against your ear, his head rested in the crook of your neck.

You shake your head, words gone.

He sets a rhythm: rough, deep strokes that leave no room between you, skin slapping, your moans swallowed by the creak of the bed and the dark heat in his voice.

"That's it, baby. Let me hear you."

One hand slides up, cradling your cheek as he presses a kiss to your lips. His hand goes to your neck, his thumb resting gently against your throat.

Your walls clench around him and he groans — deep and guttural. “You want me to finish in you, baby? Is that what you want?”

You nod desperately. "Yes-Logan, I'm-" He doesn't let up.

"Shit," he groans. "You feel-fuck, you feel so good, baby." He said into your shoulder.

His mouth crushed yours, swallowing your moans, his thrusts were quick and ragged now, losing his rhythm.

When he pulled back from your lips, his voice was soft and guttural, his breath hot against your ear.“I love you.”

The words alone almost sent you over the edge— butterflies erupted in your stomach and your body responded by squeezing him tighter. He said it once more, rougher, wanting you to know it wasn’t a mistake—that what he was saying was true.

“I love you so damn much.” He groaned in your ear.

And when you finally fall over the edge, muscles clenching and vision white-hot, he follows with a deep, broken growl - burying himself to the hilt inside you.

You came undone around him, his pace unrelenting, his groan muffled in the crook of your neck as he spilled into you, holding you down, leaving small bruises along your hip bones.

Logan stayed hovering over you, both of you catching your breath— more so you than him. The rain continued pouring outside while the cabin became quiet.

He looked into your eyes, searching them the way he always did—as though he still expected to find fear staring back at him. Instead, you smiled at him.

He brushed a strand of hair that clung to your face, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

You reached up, brushing your fingertips through the dark hair at the nape of his neck.

"Hi," you whispered with a small, sleepy laugh.

A smile, real and unguarded, found its way onto Logan's face.

"Hi." He closed his eyes for a brief second, letting out a breath he felt like he'd been holding for months.

Gently, he pulled out of you and laid himself right next to your body. You turned to face him as he pulled the quilt over both of you.

Both of you were resting on your elbows, your free hand traced lazy patterns onto his chest. And his hand was lying flat on your hip, not hovering.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

"I've never been better." You replied pressing a kiss to his chin.

His gaze softened, "I didn't hurt you." He spoke out loud in disbelief. You smiled, “No.”

Your fingers ran over his knuckles where his claws retracted and brought them to your lips and kissed each knuckle.

He watched you in quiet disbelief.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Kissing my boyfriend."

A quiet huff of laughter escaped him, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

His eyes dropped to your fingers still wrapped around his hand. "These things have caused me nothin' but trouble."

You shrugged, "They're just your hands."

Logan looked back at you. “You really believe that."

"I do."

He gave the smallest nod, almost to himself, before leaning down to press a slow kiss to your forehead.

"You're somethin' else," he murmured.

"I'll take that as a compliment." You responded before laying your head on his chest.

"You should." He said as his fingers tips brushed down your back.

Logan closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo as a contented silence settled between you.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, he wasn't thinking about the man he'd been made into.

Only the one he'd chosen to be.

And with you safe in his arms, he drifted to sleep knowing he'd finally found something worth coming home to.

• • •

You hum and smile. He can be as rough around the edges as he likes. You know what that as soon as the lights go out, he’s going to stop pretending he’s not gentle.

Because Ben doesn’t worship a god. He worships you. Your body in the dark, your breathless moans, your fluttering lashes and shaky moans as he has his way with you, over and over until the sunrise.

You know from social media and tabloids, that everyone thinks Ben would be rough and selfish in bed. You’re sure he once was. He’s admitted as much. But with you, he’s cruel in the sweetest way. Big hands roam your body, stripping you slowly and sucking possessive marks on every sensitive spot of your body. Your neck, your breasts, your inner thigh, there isn’t a place he won’t mark.

Needy girl, he calls you when his knuckles rub your pussy. Greedy little pussy all ready for me, isn’t it? Bet I can make you cum without touchin’ her.

And you whine, because you don’t know who the hell he’s betting against. He knows he can make you fall apart, just by pinning your abdomen down and mouthing at your tits. You spasm and sob, the orgasm short and ruined, and Ben still doesn’t take mercy. This is more important to him than his job, and he’s going to drive the private heaven out as long as he can.

His cock gets stuffed down your throat, and you hump the sheets as you gag, his eyes gleaming with dark adoration as he fucks your face. He pets your head and reaches back to spank your pussy as you swallow the thick load of his cum. You’re worked up enough to snap, when he settles between your legs and spits on your clit. You’re crying when he presses you to his face and doesn’t let you up, until you’re weeping, twitching, and stuck to beard.

Then he fucks you, so slow you feel like you’re stuck in free fall. The drag of his massive cock through your gummy walls, making your eyes flutter and your mouth hang uselessly open. Ben spits down your throat and rolls his hips, smirking when you moan like a wanton whore.

Fuckin’ cockslut, he purrs, pressing his hand against your tummy, forcing you to feel him rut against your g-spot. You feel that, babydoll? Feels real fuckin’ good, doesn’t it.

He has no idea. It feels so good you could die. So good you’re smiling and giggling like a drunken idiot, when he really, properly starts to fuck you. Your whole body is so overworked and sensitive, you scream when your last orgasm hits you. There isn’t a place you don’t feel it, from curling toes to crossed eyes. You milk Ben’s cock, writhing uselessly beneath him, and he collapses over you with a deep, rough groan.

At the end, he’s fucked you hard enough your pussy is drooling with your mixed releases. You’ve got handprints and lovebites everywhere, and he doesn’t even have a scratch. You always complain it isn’t fair. Ben grunts that it ain’t like anyone’s looking at him, when you’re at his side. 

And people would never believe, that he cleans you up and cradles you after. That you get treated like a princess, by the big, bad Soldier Boy and his sneering grin. But you don’t need them to believe. You get that soft but unwavering light, behind his eyes. You get the soft kiss to your pussy, not even trying to start something again, but just looking to remind himself of the work well done. You curl up against his chest while he smokes with a dazed smile, and catch his gaze.

He cups your cheek, and presses a gentle kiss against your swollen mouth. He smears his spit over your lips and hums to himself, satisfied with his work of art.

You. Thoroughly fucked, wholly satisfied, and completely, totally worshipped.

✦Soldier Boy Masterlist - Main Masterlist - read on aO3✦

✦Author's Note: is he taking requests ...✦

hii! i was going through a lot of personal issues and needed to take a break from writing for a bit, but i’m finally back! this fic was a request i received a while ago, thank you so much @violetskies21 for this request 💓 so sorry for the wait

the night at the vought cafe always ended the exact same way: you washing cups and plates, the smell of coffee soaked into your apron, and exhaustion piled up on your back. you wiped the damp cloth across the wooden counter, watching the yellow light reflect on the clean glass. outside, the city was already washed in the late afternoon sunset, and all you wanted was to finish closing the register, pack your stuff, and leave.

you were heading over to close up when the bell above the glass door rang—not a subtle chime, but a loud rattle as the door was shoved open with force.

your eyes slowly drifted up, and the air left your lungs.

it was soldier boy.

he walked in wearing his full suit. his shield was in his massive hands, and every step he took in those heavy boots made the wooden floor creak so hard it made your chest vibrate. he was huge. his presence took over the space in a suffocating way, radiating raw, dangerous, and completely unpredictable power.

panic hit you like a punch. your hands, still holding the rag, started visibly shaking.

he walked up to the counter with a calculated slowness, his eyes locked on you from the second he stepped through the door. he wasn't in a rush. he stopped right in front of you and, with a fluid movement, rested his huge hands on the counter, leaning in slightly until you could smell him.

"evening, kid." his voice was deep and raspy.

"g-good evening, soldier boy." you stammered, your voice barely a whisper, your wide eyes focusing on his sharp jawline and short beard. you could barely hold his gaze.

ben smirked, a slow tug of his lips showing he knew exactly how terrified he made you. he loved it. loved seeing genuine panic in people's eyes. and fuck, he loved seeing the panic and fear in yours. the way you looked so tiny and helpless in front of him. so fucking cute.

"black coffee. no sugar," he ordered, short and straight to the point, his voice dragging as he stared at you.

"y-yes, sir." you replied in a tiny voice, turning around quickly to the espresso machine just to escape that intensity.

as the hot water ran through the ground beans, your hands were shaking so bad you almost dropped the porcelain cup. that wasn't the first time he'd come into the cafe. far from it. over the last three weeks, soldier boy had been dropping by at least twice a week to get coffee, and every single time was identical. you barely spoke, but the routine was agonizing for your nerves.

you remembered the first time he showed up perfectly, on a tuesday morning. the cafe was packed with vought employees, assistants, and secretaries rushing around. when he walked in, the entire place just fell silent. he walked straight to the counter, ignoring everyone, stopped in front of you, and said the exact same line: "black coffee, no sugar." you handed it over with fingers freezing from terror. he took the cup, left the exact cash on the counter, and drank it right there, standing, staring at the ceiling with a bored expression before turning around and leaving without another word.

then came the second time, on a rainy thursday. the place was empty, just you cleaning the tables in the back. the bell chimed loud and his massive silhouette crossed the entrance. he didn't even look around. went straight to the counter, tapped his heavy fingers on the wood, and waited. you rushed over, heart in your throat. "black, no sugar." that was all he said. you served the bitter black coffee, and he just took the paper cup, locked those dull green eyes onto yours for three full seconds—holding a silence that almost made you cry from nerves—and walked out into the rain with heavy steps.

and now, there he was again, right at the end of your shift.

you poured the dark, steaming liquid into the cup, trying to take a deep breath to stop your hands from shaking. you set the cup on the saucer and, with small steps, walked back to the counter, sliding the drink toward him real carefully so it wouldn't spill.

"h-here, soldier boy."

ben didn't pick up the cup right away. he kept his hands flat on the counter, his analytical eyes tracing down your server uniform, noticing how the apron looked way too big on your small frame, before moving back up to your neck where he could see your artery pulsing ridiculously fast. the fear radiating off you was tangible, and to a guy like him, that was better than any compliment.

he reached out his thick fingers and grabbed the handle, bringing it to his lips. took a long sip, his firm gaze locked on your face the entire time, without blinking. you stayed completely still, arms pulled tight against your body, wishing you could just vanish.

"perfect," he murmured after swallowing the bitter coffee, tapping the cup lightly against the saucer. "you're good at this, girl."

he tossed a bill worth way more than the coffee onto the wooden counter. you looked at the money and then up at him, confused.

"soldier boy... hm, i need to get your change from the register..." you started, taking a step toward the cash drawer.

"it's okay, girl." he cut in, his tone so authoritative it froze you in your tracks.

he turned his back and walked toward the exit with that imposing posture of a man who owned everything. the door bell rattled again as he passed, leaving behind only silence and the heavy scent of leather and cologne. you let out the breath you didn't even realize you were holding, relaxing your shoulders. it was over.

you put the money in the tip jar, finished wiping the counter, and ran to the breakroom. you were so tired your brain could barely process anything. you took off your apron, grabbed your bag, and were ready to go.

after locking up, night had fully fallen, bringing a cold fog over the streets. just wanting to get home fast, you decided to take a shortcut through a wide, dark alley behind a club, a place known for hosting vought big shots and millionaire execs.

the alley wasn't empty. further down, lit by the weak glow of a flickering streetlight, a group of about ten women was gathered. prostitutes. wearing provocative lingerie under expensive fur coats, stilettos, and heavy makeup. they were talking in low tones, some touching up their lipstick, others smoking. they knew exactly where they were going: vought had paid a ridiculous amount for them to be the entertainment at the herogasm. there was fear in them, an obvious nervousness about dealing with supes.

you tried to walk past on the other side of the alley, hugging yourself, clutching your bag straps tightly, keeping your head down to avoid drawing attention.

that's when hell broke lose.

the tires of a black van with heavily tinted windows screeched on the asphalt as it turned sharply into the alley, slamming the brakes right in front of the group. the side doors flew open, and two massive vought guards wearing black suits and tactical vests, armed to the teeth, stepped out looking stressed and aggressive.

"come on, move! all of you inside now! you're fucking late already!" one of them barked, his voice echoing in the alley as he started shoving the women into the van.

panic set in and you picked up your pace to get out of there, but the second guard looked over and spotted you walking by. in the dim light of the alley, he didn't even notice your simple work clothes or student backpack; to him, you were just another young girl in the designated area.

"you there, inside now!" he yelled, taking long strides toward you.

"no! wait! i'm not part of this, i was just passing through! i work at-" you cried, your voice cracking with terror as you backed away, tears stinging your eyes.

he didn't care. he grabbed your arm with brutal force, thick fingers digging into your skin in a way that was definitely gonna leave dark bruises. you tried to pull back, tried to fight, but against a trained vought guard, you were completely powerless.

"shut up, bitch! get in the fucking van!" he growled, dragging you through the alley without a care and throwing you violently into the dark vehicle.

you fell to your knees on the floor. the side door slammed shut, the electronic lock clicking like a final sentence, and the driver accelerated hard, throwing your body against the seat.

the panic inside was claustrophobic. the interior lights were a dim neon blue. the other women looked at you on the floor, crying and hyperventilating, and instantly realized the huge mistake the guards had made. an older woman with a pitying look leaned down and helped you sit on the leather seat.

"jesus... they grabbed a girl by mistake," she whispered, looking at your bag and your utter panic.

"please, let me out! tell them to stop the van!" you pleaded, tears pouring down non-stop, choking on a severe anxiety attack.

"listen to me, girl, look at me." she held your face firmly, her eyes dead serious. "if we scream or try to stop this van right now, those guys up front will make us disappear."

"where are we going?" you sobbed, pulling your knees to your chest.

she swallowed hard, looking away before whispering, "to herogasm. the annual supe orgy. your only chance is to get inside that mansion, find an empty room, lock yourself in, and try to disappear until the party ends tomorrow morning. don't draw any supe's attention, got it? if one of them notices you, you're fucked. literally."

the drive lasted only a few minutes, but it felt like pure torment. you were dissociating, the sound of the women talking among themselves to cover their own panic sounding distant, like you were underwater. it all felt like a grotesque nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

when the van finally stopped, the doors opened and reality hit you like a train.

the isolated mansion in the middle of nowhere was massive, surrounded by armed guards on all sides. but what was coming from inside was the real horror. the deafening sound of heavy electronic music mixed with loud laughter, depraved screams, and echoing moans vibrated through the lit windows. herogasm was already in full swing. smoke, the smell of alcohol, drugs, and bodily fluids floated in the air.

the high-end escorts took a deep breath, put on their seductive posture, and stepped out, marching toward the main hall to do the job they were paid for. you were pushed along by the crowd, your feet dragging against your will.

crossing the entrance hall, the sight of all that depravity made your legs give out completely. there were dozens of half-naked supes acting like animals, using people like disposable objects for pleasure. the room reeked of veiled violence.

you were completely dissociated, body trembling, silent crying swallowed by the loud music and screams around you. you just wanted to die so it would stop.

in the middle of the main hall, oblivious to the chaos and full of arrogance, was soldier boy.

he was holding a glass of whiskey in one hand, laughing at some stupid joke another minor supe was telling. he acted like the king of the place, radiating a disgusting air of superiority. bored with the conversation, ben turned his head, letting his eyes wander through the room looking for something that might actually catch his interest amidst all the cheap exposed skin.

his gaze passed over the group of women with initial disinterest, until it locked onto you.

you looked so tiny in the middle of it all. hunched over, arms wrapped tight around yourself in a futile attempt to hide, eyes glued to the floor, completely dissociated. fear had you paralyzed.

ben's brain worked fast. he recognized your face, and a subtle, dangerous smirk formed on his lips.

he stood up, his massive presence hushing the nearest heroes. he walked over to the guy who brought the girls and pointed directly at you, never breaking eye contact with your shaking frame.

"that one. she's mine," ben stated, his deep voice echoing with the authority of someone who'd never heard the word "no" in his life.

the guy grinned, bowing slightly. "yeah, soldier boy. all yours."

you blinked, coming out of your daze at the sound of his voice, and looked up. the panic in your eyes skyrocketed as you saw soldier boy staring back at you.

ben didn't wait for a reaction, didn't ask for permission, and completely ignored the fact that you were cowering. he stepped forward, grabbing your arm firmly. his fingers dug into your arm so hard that you let out a soft groan of pain, terrified it was gonna start bleeding.

"p-please..." your voice barely came out, a terrified whisper as you instinctively tried to take a step back.

"shut it," he murmured near your ear, his tone hard and unyielding, keeping up the act for anyone watching. "you're coming with me now."

with a firm yank, he started pulling you out of the hall. you tried to plant your feet on the floor, but your shoes just slid like you were trying to fight a moving concrete wall. ben dragged you through the noisy hallways, ignoring your subtle tremors and the stares from other supes.

you were completely vulnerable, pulled along by the hero who, to the public, was a symbol of protection, but in here held your arm like you were just his property.

when you reached the door of one of the most isolated rooms on the top floor, he opened it with one hand, shoved you inside without an ounce of gentleness, and slammed the door shut, locking it with a sharp click that echoed in the quiet room.

panic rushed up your throat, and you closed your eyes, bracing yourself, expecting him to start tearing his clothes off and using you like a toy.

but that's not what happened.

instead of throwing you onto the bed or barking orders like you'd seen other supes doing downstairs, soldier boy slowly let go of your wrist. he took a long breath, unbuckling his iconic eagle shield from his back and placing it carefully on a leather armchair. then he unfastened the heavy green chest armor, setting it aside and leaving himself in just his tactical shirt, making him look a little less like a military tank and a bit more human.

he turned to you, crossing his thick arms over his chest. his expression was still stern, but there was genuine confusion shining in his eyes.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" he asked directly, his deep voice echoing.

you shrank back, taking a step until your back hit the locked door. the tears caught in your throat finally overflowed, blurring your vision. you tried to speak, but only managed a painful sob.

"i... i don't know..." you started, voice completely failing.

ben took a step toward you, uncrossing his arms. his face softened a bit, taking on that calmer look you knew from the cafe.

"hey, it's okay. look at me," he said, lowering his voice to a quiet, almost intimate tone. "i recognized you the second i laid eyes on you down there. you're the girl who makes my coffee. so explain it to me, how'd you end up here?"

"those men..." you choked out, wiping your face with shaking hands, trying desperately to breathe. "i was walking home from work... cut through the alley behind the club and they... they grabbed me. i screamed that i had nothing to do with it, but they wouldn't listen. they threw me in the van with those women and brought me here. please, sir... just let me go. i'm begging you."

hearing your explanation, ben let out a soft huff of a laugh, shaking his head with a fake annoyance that felt real enough.

"those fucking vought idiots are total morons. bunch of incompetents," he muttered low, walking over to you with slow steps, arms slightly out to show he didn't mean to attack. he stopped right in front of you. "listen to me, girl. look me in the eyes."

you slowly raised your head, meeting his eyes.

"you're safe in here with me. got it? nobody's coming through that door and nobody's touching a hair on your head. i'm not gonna hurt you. i'm not like those animals downstairs. c'mon, sit down."

he gently took the tips of your fingers and guided you to the edge of the bed. you let yourself be led, too exhausted to fight it. you sat on the edge of the soft mattress, pulling your legs in, while soldier boy sat right next to you. the bed dipped under his weight. he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at you from the side.

you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding, your shoulders dropping slightly. innocence made you want to believe every single word coming out of his mouth.

"thank you..." you whispered, feeling a spark of genuine gratitude. "p-please... can you take me home?"

he reached out slowly, calloused fingers touching the side of your face with a lightness you'd never expect from someone his size.

"i don't think so... i told you it's fine, doll. you're safe with me," he repeated softly, almost soothing, as his fingers slid into your hair, pulling a few strands behind your ear. "nobody touches you in here. i'll take care of you."

you gave a small nod, swallowing hard. the relief of hearing those words was huge, but as his hand stayed there, sliding through your hair with a calculated slowness, a strange chill started creeping up your spine.

ben's eyes didn't keep that warm look for long. slowly, while he repeated once more, "you're safe here, nobody's gonna hurt you, i promise," his gaze started dropping. he looked down your neck, focused on your collarbone, and dragged his eyes over the curves of your body, assessing you top to bottom with a heavy, possessive intensity.

that silent inspection made you freeze up instantly. your back straightened on the bed and you tried to pull your legs in closer, feeling your heart race in a completely different way now. it wasn't just the shock of being kidnapped anymore; it was a new kind of fear, born from realizing his protection came with a price tag.

"soldier boy...?" you whispered, voice trembling, stepping back a millimeter on the mattress.

"you can call me ben, little girl," he murmured, leaning his body closer to yours, making the mattress sink even deeper under his weight. his warm breath brushed your cheek. "don't get nervous, okay? you're safe."

his hand, previously in your hair, slid down your shoulder in a slow, firm trail, pressing into your skin with a control that made it clear that despite the sweet words and promises of safety, he had zero intention of letting you off that bed.

ben kept staring, the mattress dipping significantly right beside you. his proximity was already intimidating, but the air shifted completely when he started leaning over you. taking his time, he brought his face close to the side of your neck, closing his eyes and burying his nose there, inhaling deeply to catch your scent.

his hot breath against your skin gave you full-body chills, but in a purely terrifying way.

"you smell like strawberries..." he murmured, his voice muffled and raspy against your skin, like he was savoring the moment.

panic shot through your chest. heart in your throat, your survival instincts kicked in and you pulled away abruptly, trying to put distance between you and him on the bed. fear was written all over your wide eyes.

ben opened his eyes slowly. he didn't look mad, but that soft smile from before vanished, replaced by an expression of pure possessive determination. he simply moved right back toward you, wiping out the space you'd just gained, trapping your body against the headboard.

seeing that he wasn't stopping, complete panic took over. you slammed both hands against his massive chest and pushed with everything you had. you pushed hard, arms trembling from the effort, but ben didn't move an inch. it was like trying to push a concrete wall.

"n-no... please, get off!" you let out a choked cry, voice breaking as tears flooded your face again.

realizing physical strength meant nothing, total desperation set in. you started thrashing around, kicking, trying to pull your arms back, anything to escape his suffocating presence. your breathing got short and fast, a full-blown panic attack choking you.

ben just watched your struggle for a few seconds with a disturbing calm. then, with one quick motion, he reached out and pinned both your arms, throwing his body weight over yours and forcing you flat against the sheets, crushing any chance of resistance.

when you tried to squirm out, ben grabbed your waist tightly, fingers digging into your skin through your clothes, pulling you back with a rough yank that flushed your bodies together. his face was inches from yours, green eyes flashing.

"i'm horny, baby. what're you gonna do to help me out?" he asked, locking your body beneath his.

desperation completely overwhelmed you. you shook your head repeatedly as hot tears spilled over again. you sobbed, pushing against his broad shoulders, trying to break free from an embrace that felt like a steel cage.

"no, please... ben, let me go..." you sobbed weakly.

he just put on a fake sense of sympathy, letting out a soft sigh and tilting his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your hair while holding back a sarcastic laugh deep in his throat, finding your innocence amusing.

"none of that, baby. why're you crying, hm? what's wrong?" he asked in that soft, manipulative voice.

when you didn't answer, frozen in fear, his patience flickered. his hand slid down your side and he squeezed your leg so hard, digging his thick fingers into your thigh, that your muscles instantly cramped up. that was definitely leaving a deep purple bruise.

"ah!" you whimpered softly, shrinking back onto the bed. "i don't wanna do this... please, ben."

he heard the plea and gave a subtle nod, eyes half-lidded. he looked at your desperate face before slowly dragging his eyes down, undressing you with his gaze, hungry for your fragility.

he smiled sweetly while raising a hand to stroke your cheek. but before you could breathe a sigh of relief, he closed his fingers and pinched your cheek hard, crushing skin against your teeth, making you groan in pain from the pressure.

"i don't think you get it... i'm horny and i need to get off," he continued, tone turning icy and direct while keeping his grip on your face. "if you don't help me, i'm gonna have to force you, baby. and neither of us wants that, right? we were doing so well. don't ruin our night."

you cried quietly, chest heaving with sobs, shaking your head against his palm, feeling his fingers hurt you while you still uselessly tried to wriggle out from under his weight.

"listen to me, fuck- i'm only gonna say this once, you need to do this," he growled, tone shifting into a sharp military order, the nice guy mask slipping completely. "you don't wanna get shared around by a bunch of different supes downstairs, do you? your little friends down there are probably used to it, but i know you aren't. be a good girl for me, sweetheart. i'll take real good care of you after. don't make me fuck you by force, it won't be fun for either of us."

he slowly released his grip on your face and went back to gently stroking your skin, using his thumb to wipe away your tears with a fake gentleness that gave you chills.

"please, baby."

after a few seconds of silence, you nodded with frightened eyes.

ben grinned, a wide, almost proud smile for breaking your resistance. he leaned down and pressed a quick, soft kiss to your lips.

"good girl. now get on your knees."

you were already on your knees on the floor, body trembling, when he pulled his dick out of his briefs and brushed it against your closed lips.

"open for me, baby."

you hesitated for a second, but he tilted his head with a look that took no for an answer. you opened your mouth, and he slid inside, slow at first, letting you get used to the taste and size.

"there... good girl," he murmured, his hand firm on the back of your neck. "your mouth is so warm."

he started moving, pushing deeper with every thrust, and you tried to keep up, but he quickly took total control. his hand tightened on your neck and he started fucking your mouth hard, using you however he wanted.

you gagged, eyes filling with tears, instinctively slapping his thigh, but he just threw his head back and groaned loud.

"fuck... such a good mouth," he whispered, not slowing down his rhythm. "you're taking me so well, doll. feels like you were made for this."

every compliment confused you more. you hated it, but hearing him say those things made a strange warmth bloom in your chest. you wanted to be good, even this.

even with tears streaming down your face, throat burning, gag reflex triggering with every deep thrust, you wanted him to be satisfied with you.

he kept going, faster, deeper, his hips smacking against your chin with a wet, obscene sound. drool leaked from the corners of your mouth, forming a string that kept snapping and reforming with every motion, running down your chin and dripping onto the floor.

"look at you," he whispered, looking down with eyes dark with lust. "little girl."

he gripped your head with both hands now, fingers tangled in your hair, guiding you at a faster pace, thrusts getting shorter and deeper, his dick hitting the back of your throat every time.

you felt the air running out. your nostrils flared desperately trying to pull in oxygen, but every time he went in, he blocked your breathing, and every time he pulled out, you barely had time to inhale before being filled up again.

"breathe through your nose, baby," he instructed, his voice entirely too calm for what he was doing. "you're okay."

you tried, but it wasn't enough. your head started feeling light, the edges of everything blurring. you slapped his thigh again, harder, asking him to stop, to let you breathe.

he stroked your cheek, stretched over his dick. he paused his hips for a second, and you gasped, pulling in air in ragged gulps. he kept stroking your cheek and then, while you were trying to catch your breath, his hand moved from your cheek up to your nose, pinching your nostrils shut and blocking your air completely.

your eyes went wide, absolute panic taking over. your mouth was full, your nose was shut, and he started moving again, his hips returning to that heavy rhythm.

"hang in there, baby. i'm right here with you," he murmured, looking down at how red your face was turning. poor thing.

you tried to fight back, hands hitting his thigh with all the strength you had left, but he was immovable. the lack of oxygen made you dizzy, bright spots dancing in your vision. you felt your face burning, pressure building inside your head, the only sound you could make being muffled gagging around his dick.

you felt the air vanish completely, lungs burning, vision going black around the edges. your body went limp, your hits against his leg losing power, fingers slipping off his skin.

you were gonna pass out. you knew you were passing out.

just as your eyes fluttered shut, he let go of your nose.

air rushed into your lungs like a wave of pure relief, and in that exact moment, his body tensed and he came with a long, raspy groan, hot liquid filling your mouth, the taste spreading over your tongue.

"swallow," he ordered, voice firm, the hand on your nose moving down to cover your mouth, not letting you spit.

you swallowed, throat straining, the liquid going down. it tasted strong, salty, making your stomach turn, but you swallowed it all, just like he told you to.

when he was done, he let go of your mouth, and you collapsed backward onto the floor, gasping, lungs burning, head spinning. you were way too weak, too dizzy, body shaking uncontrollably.

ben looked down, seeing you collapsed on the floor, curled up and trembling, breathing erratic, eyes glassy and teary. he smiled, a slow, satisfied grin.

"you did so good, baby girl," he murmured softly, like he was rewarding you. "i'm so proud of you."

he kneeled beside you and ran a hand through your hair, smoothing down the sweaty strands with a slowness that contrasted brutally with what happened seconds ago.

"how're you feeling, baby? talk to me," he whispered, fingers stroking your cheek.

"i... i feel tired... i think," you managed to say, voice cracking halfway through.

ben didn't even wait for you to finish. he gave a sympathetic smile and slid his arms under your trembling body, lifting you into his lap effortlessly, pulling your chest to his. you instinctively rested your head against his shoulder, smelling his skin mixed with sweat as he carried you the short distance to the bed.

he laid you down on the mattress carefully, like he was handling something fragile and precious. the moment your back hit the soft sheets, ben got comfortable beside you. one of his hands immediately went to your head, long, firm fingers sliding through your damp hair, massaging your scalp in a slow caress that started making you relax.

"sorry for being so rough..." he murmured near your face, voice laced with a regret that made you forget the grip on your nose from moments earlier. "sometimes i lose control a bit, i didn't wanna hurt you."

while his fingers kept up the soothing rhythm in your hair, his other hand moved down to the hem of your shirt. with slow movements, he started pulling the fabric up over your stomach, fingertips brushing your warm skin and giving you goosebumps.

"let's take this off, hm? so you can breathe better," he whispered, lifting your upper body slightly with one hand to slide the shirt off your arms, exposing your black bra.

his hands moved to the clasp on your back, undoing it and letting the bra loosen. he slid the straps off your shoulders, exposing your breasts, nipples hardening from the cold air.

he didn't even wait for you to get used to being exposed. his eyes darkened instantly, locked onto your chest, and he leaned in, burying his face against your skin.

you let out a nervous little laugh as ben's hot mouth cupped your nipple, sucking with a hunger that caught you off guard. his tongue worked slowly, alternating between both sides, licking and sucking like he was starving.

you wriggled, feeling heat rush through you, and after what felt like forever, you whined softly, "ben, my... my tits hurt." the sensation felt good, but it was starting to ache from how hard he was sucking. you put your hands on his shoulders to try and control the pace. your nipples were getting sore and sensitive under his mouth.

hearing you, he slowed it down. he pulled back slowly, dragging his face up your chest until he reached your mouth, leaving a long, sweet kiss, pressing his lips to yours with a gentleness that melted your whole body. when he pulled away, he kept his eyes on yours, breathing a little heavy.

his hand slid down your waist, resting on the waistband of your pants. "can i?" he asked in a raspy whisper.

you hesitated for a second, heart jumping in your chest. his eyes were patient, waiting for your okay.

"yeah..." you answered softly, looking away for a second.

he smiled when he heard you, a slow, satisfied grin, like you'd just handed him a present.

he slid your pants down your legs with slow movements, fingers brushing your skin. when they hit your ankles, he tossed them aside, but his eyes never left your panties. they were visibly soaked.

he tilted his head, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

"look at that," he murmured, eyes fixed on the wet spot. "you're already dripping, sweetheart."

he ran a finger over the fabric, pressing lightly over your entrance, feeling the heat and wetness through the cloth. the touch made you shiver, your hips moving involuntarily toward his hand.

he chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"are you like this 'cause you sucked my cock? or 'cause i sucked your tits?" he asked, eyes studying you.

you didn't answer, looking away embarrassed.

he let out a low, warm laugh, shaking his head with amusement.

"little one," he murmured, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. "don't be shy."

his lips brushed your skin as he spoke, stubble lightly scratching your face.

his hand on your waist started moving down. slowly, fingers slid over your stomach, tracing a path down to your groin. his palm pressed against your panties, feeling the heat, the wetness, your body trembling slightly.

"it's okay," he whispered, voice soft against your cheek. "let me touch you."

his fingers found the exact spot over your panties, starting to move in slow circles, pressing, stroking. you held your breath, hips moving on their own, seeking more contact.

he kept up the movement, fingers sliding over the wet fabric, finding your clit and rubbing firm, slow circles. you let out a soft moan, eyes closed, head falling back.

"that's it, doll," he whispered, lips brushing your ear. "let me hear you. let me feel you."

his fingers sped up a little, pressure building, and you felt pleasure surge, heat spreading through your core.

"you're so wet," he continued, voice low and raspy. "i could stay right here all night, y'know? just touching you, listening to you moan."

you felt the pressure mounting, pleasure building way too fast, a strange urgency overtaking your lower belly that you couldn't control.

"ben... wait..." you groaned, voice shaky, hands flying to his wrist. "stop, ben... i think i'm gonna pee..."

he didn't stop. if anything, his fingers kept moving even firmer, and he tilted his head, a slow smile forming on his lips.

"oh yeah?" he asked, voice dripping with amusement. "you think you're gonna pee, baby?"

"yeah, ben, stop, please..." you begged, hips trying to pull away, but his free hand gripped your hip tight, pinning you in place.

"you're fine," he said, voice calm, almost sweet. "you're not gonna pee, sweetheart. you're gonna come. that's all it is."

his fingers sped up even more, pressure intensifying, and you felt the orgasm crashing in, your whole body shaking.

"that's it, doll," he whispered raspily. "come for me. let me see you come."

and you came, body arching, a scream trapped in your throat as pleasure washed over you in waves. he kept moving, stretching out your orgasm until you were way too sensitive, hips squirming to get away from his hand.

he slowly pulled his fingers away, thumb still tracing light circles on your swollen clit, feeling you pulse. he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them, eyes locked on yours, a slow smirk spreading.

"you're so sweet, sweetheart," he murmured softly. "so fucking hot. i could fuck you up all night."

he leaned down and kissed you, slow and deep, tongue sliding against yours, making you taste yourself on his mouth.

he pulled back and positioned himself between your legs, the head of his dick resting against your entrance. he stayed there for a moment, just pressing lightly, feeling the heat and wetness.

"you feel that, baby?" he asked gently. "feel how hard i am?"

you stayed quiet, eyes darting away, body tense. you were scared—was he really about to push that... inside you?

he waited a second, two, and when he saw you weren't gonna answer, he shook his head with a smile.

he pressed in a little more, slipping past your entrance, making you feel the heat and pressure.

then you spoke. your voice came out as a fragile, trembling thread.

"please, don't..."

he froze instantly. for a second, he stayed dead still, and you felt his body go tense over yours. when he raised his head to look at you, his eyes were cold.

"what?" he asked, voice low.

"i don't think i want to..." you repeated, voice firmer, but tears were already spilling over. "please... can i just go home?"

he huffed, an annoyed sound escaping his throat. the hand resting on the bed beside your head balled into a fist.

"no, doll... you're staying here to keep me company, yeah?"

you didn't answer, and he tilted his head, eyes dark. he grabbed your hip hard, fingers digging into your skin, and shoved his cock all the way in at once.

you screamed, a sharp, painful sound, hands flying to his shoulders, trying to push him off. but he was immovable, heavy, and started moving rough, thrusts deep and brutal.

"shh... i know, it hurts, right?" he whispered near your ear, hot breath mixing with his rapid breathing. he kept pounding into you, firm thrusts making your body shake on the bed, his hands gripping your hips. "but look at you, baby. you're so strong, y'know that? taking all of this for me... you're being so brave, sweetheart."

you blinked back teary eyes, mind confused by the mix of severe pain and the sweet words he was saying. you looked at him, eyes shining with unshed tears, and whispered in a small, naive voice, "do you... do you promise? please"

an insanely sweet, warm smile spread across his lips, contrasting completely with how hard he was fucking your pussy. he leaned down and kissed your forehead gently, then the tip of your nose.

"of course, my baby," he answered, voice full of pride and genuine adoration. "such a good girl."

hearing that made something shift inside you. his validation, his protective tone, and the compliments started acting like a drug on your brain. your fear started receding, replaced by a desperate need to keep pleasing him, to keep hearing those sweet words.

you let out a shaky breath and consciously tried to relax your hips, stopping the fight against the pain, letting him slide in easier.

his face lit up when he felt your body stop gripping his cock so tight. he let out a low, satisfied groan and slowed down his pace just to savor the feeling of you giving in completely.

"there... doll," he praised, voice thick with lust as he ran his fingers through your hair, pulling back gently to make you look at him. "look at how well you take me. you're a good girl, aren't you? my good girl."

you nodded, teary eyes shining with a mix of physical pain and a strange sense of relief and comfort. hearing that you were good, that you were doing the right thing, and that he was proud made all the pain feel manageable—almost necessary.

one of his hands stayed at your core, stretched around his dick, rubbing you slowly. his other hand slid up your stomach, large fingers moving millimeter by millimeter, tracing your ribs until resting at the base of your neck, feeling your pulse racing.

he gave a deeper thrust, real slow, savoring the way you caught your breath. his hips pressed against yours, holding there for a few seconds before slowly pulling back.

he nuzzled his nose against your cheek lazily, moving down to your neck to leave a long, wet kiss. "can daddy come in this little pussy? can i fill you up with my cum?"

he paused his movement, staying still inside you, broad chest rising and falling against yours. he raised his head slowly, looking straight into your eyes. for a second, you thought he was gonna get mad again, but his expression stayed soft, almost comforting. a small smile touched his lips, the thumb of his free hand stroking the corner of your mouth so sweetly.

"look at me," he whispered, voice sweet as honey, though carrying that undeniable tone of authority that kept you nervous. "let daddy fill you up, yeah? please"

you looked up at him, eyes shining, tears finally spilling over your temples. the way he spoke, mixing that sweet tone with such aggressive actions, made your head spin. you wanted to be protected. wanted him to keep telling you that you were good.

"okay..." you whispered, surrendering what little resistance you had left.

"that's my good girl. you did so good."

he started moving again, slow at first, deep thrusts making you feel every inch of him sliding inside. his hand stroked your face as he moved, thumbs wiping away the tears still falling.

"such a tight fucking pussy," he whispered low, like sharing a secret. "and it belongs to me, right?"

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. you couldn't say it.

he waited a second, two, and when he saw you weren't gonna answer, his patience ran out.

his hand left your face and dropped to your neck, thick fingers wrapping around your throat. he squeezed—not enough to choke you out, but enough to scare you, to remind you that your life was in his hands.

"is this pussy mine?" he asked again, voice slow and clear, hand still gripping your neck, eyes locked onto yours.

you felt the pressure increase slightly, a reminder of what could happen.

"it's yours," you whispered, voice broken.

"nah baby, not like that. louder, yeah?" he ordered, grip tightening a bit more.

"it's yours!" you said louder.

he smiled, satisfied, and let go of your neck. his hand moved up to stroke your cheek, touch gentle now, like a reward for obeying.

"such a grown-up girl. that's it, my baby," he murmured sweetly.

he leaned down and kissed you, slow and deep, while continuing to fuck you hard, his body shaking over yours.

you felt your muscles start to contract, hips moving on their own, fingers digging into his shoulders. moans slipped out of your mouth uncontrollably, breathing short and shallow.

"doll... come for me, yeah?" he murmured against your ear, hand sliding down to your lower belly.

he started rubbing your clit while your body stayed stretched open around his dick, fingers working slow while he kept fucking you.

you felt the orgasm approaching like an unstoppable wave.

your legs started shaking and your thigh muscles tensed.

he felt your body clamp down tight around his dick while you moaned softly.

he kept rubbing you, extending your orgasm until your moans turned into whimpers.

"daddy..."

his body shook, muscles tensing, and he came immediately, the hot spurt filling you up with an intensity that made you groan again.

"fuck, goddamn..." he growled, voice raspy and broken, body shuddering over yours.

when he finally stopped, he stayed on top of you for a long moment, out of breath, forehead resting against yours. his breathing was heavy, body still trembling slightly.

he stayed still for a while, just feeling you pulse around him, hot breath against your face. then, slowly, he raised his head and looked at you. his eyes were softer now, the intense rush fading, his hand coming up to stroke your face.

"you alright?" he asked, voice low and raspy, almost worried.

took you a second to answer, voice stuck in your throat. tears were still slipping out the corners of your eyes, body still trembling.

"i..." you started, voice cracking. "yeah..."

you couldn't finish the sentence, and he waited patiently, eyes locked on yours.

"does it hurt?" he asked, hand sliding down to your thigh, fingers tracing circles on your skin.

"a little," you admitted, voice weak.

he leaned down and kissed your forehead, a long, warm kiss.

"it'll pass, girl," he whispered against your skin. "it'll pass, i promise."

he moved slowly, pulling his dick out, and you felt the empty sensation followed by the warm trickling down your thigh. he laid down beside you and pulled you close, wrapping his arms tight around you.

"take a deep breath for me," he requested calmly. "inhale... and let it out slow."

you matched his breathing, taking a deep breath, feeling air fill your lungs, then releasing it slowly. his hand stroked your hair while you breathed, fingers sliding through sweaty strands.

"that's it, baby," he murmured. "slowly. you're doing great."

you felt your body start to relax, tension slowly draining. he kept stroking your hair, hand warm and firm on your neck.

"does it hurt a lot?" he asked again, sounding concerned.

"just a little," you answered softly. "i'm a bit sensitive too."

he smiled, a tired but genuine smile, and kissed your forehead again.

"you were so good, little one," he said, stroking your cheek.

you felt a strange warmth in your chest hearing that, even after everything that had happened.

"you really think so?" you asked, voice tiny.

he raised his head to look at you, eyes locked on yours.

"fuck- yeah, baby."

he pressed you against his chest, arm wrapped around your waist, hand resting on your stomach.

you felt your eyes getting heavy, exhaustion taking over your body. his hand was still on your stomach, the warmth of his palm comforting you as you snuggled against him.

"get some sleep, doll," he murmured into your hair.

and you fell asleep, body aching but mind quieted down, curled up in his arms.

...

days later, when you were back working at the cafe like normal, he walked back in.

did you really think he'd avoid you? silly girl.

you handed him his order, black coffee, as usual.

he took the cup, took a sip, and left without saying a word.

but before stepping out, he looked back over his shoulder and gestured with his head toward the restroom.

and so, every week, he'd show up right at the end of your shift, order his coffee, finish it, and head to the bathroom.

he'd force you to your knees, unbutton his pants, and shove his dick in your mouth. you'd gag every time, tears spilling over, and he'd keep fucking your mouth hard anyway, ignoring your hands slapping his thigh.

he didn't talk to you beyond what was necessary. it was always a "my good girl, hm?," "shh doll, hang in there fuck," "night, baby." "please make daddy happy"

a few times he'd turn you around, lift your skirt, and fuck your pussy against the sink. you'd hold onto the cold edge, knees weak, while he shoved in hard and came inside you. the cum would drip down your thigh, and he'd kiss your forehead.

"did i hurt you, doll?"