look out for me
âŚRead on aO3! - Masterlist - Soldier Boy MasterlistâŚ
âŚsummary: after being woken up, soldier boy found a woman, promised he'd never leave her, then did. two years later, he's back and looking for one thing only. you.âŚ
âŚwarnings/tags: Soldier Boy x female!reader, no use of y/n, no description of reader, age gap (he's a hundred, it's to be expected), angst, softer!ben, canon divergance, pining, some plot to get to the smut (posessiveness, some spanking, dirty talk, teasing, praise and degredation kink, dom!Ben, fingering, begging, manhandling, nipple play, pussy slapping, fingering, oral f!reciving, edging, creampie, big dick ben, overstimulation, body worship, rough sex, just complete debauchery, dumbification, dacryphilia, finger sucking, squirting), love confessions, fluffâŚ
âŚwc: 11.1kâŚ
âŚauthor's note: made myself start drooling with this one. enjoy!âŚ
You had a secret. And you kept it buried in the deepest, most sacred corner of your heart. Not out of shame.
Out of survival.
Itâs best to keep your head down, in a world like this one. Supes patrol the streets, and people who are a little too loud and unhappy get sent to their death. Vought says itâs just to be corrected, but you know. Everyone knows.
Theyâve just all learned how to whisper about it.
And youâre braver than you wanted to be. You do more than you should be doing, when the most anyone should be worrying about is waking up in their bed the next morning. But thereâs the teenage girl who lives down the hall from you, who got loud about hating Homelander in school, and almost got taken because of it. You helped her get out, and lied to the face of the people who showed up to find her.
You lied with a smile, too.Â
He wouldâve found that amusing. He wouldâve teased you about acing so cool and collected, right up until you were staring down the barrel of a gun. There hadnât been a trip of your heartbeat, or stumble in your breath. Lives depended on you being able to do this.
And they depended on you being able to keep your head down.
Youâd gotten good at it. Before him, it had been your job to keep calm and collected. Doctors couldnât be panicking and crying over everything, or nothing would ever get done.
âWhat about when somethingâs real fucking gross and sticky?â He used to ask you. âYou allowed to cry then?â
Youâd smiled at the dishes in your hands. âWould you cry over something gross and sticky?â
âNo, because Iâm not a-â
âFucking pussy.â
Youâd dropped your voice to mock his, your smile becoming stupid and ditzy as the chair had scraped on the floor behind you. Riling him up was too easy. And if he didnât want you to keep poking all his old, shiny buttons, he shouldnât make it so damn fun.
âYou got a mouth on you, doll.â Ben had muttered in your ear, arms wrapping around your stomach.
âHm.â You hadnât stopped washing the dishes. Heâd rip them away from you soon, you might as well focus on what you can.
âHm? All you got to say is hm?â
âI think you like my mouth.â Youâd swayed on your feet, shrugging lazily.
Benâs arms had tightened around you. âI like somethinâ about your mouth.â
âYou like all of it. You like me so much, you chose weed over me, you think Iâm better than weed-â
Your dishes had clattered into the sink. Ben spun you around, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them to the counter as he slammed his mouth of yours. Youâd made a happy sound, craning your neck to try and chase more, and heâd chuckled. Soft, light kisses had been trailed down your jaw and over your throat, landing on a spot that seemed to be permanently dark since youâd met him.
Heâd bitten at the skin, then sucked, letting his tongue flick slightly. Before him, you hadnât even known you were into that. Now you canât even graze the spot without your body getting fuzzy and confused. Like it knows heâs supposed to be there.
But heâs not.
âYouâre lucky I like you.â Ben had muttered. âAnd youâre not a genius to figure that out, I think Iâve made it real fucking clear.â
Youâd beamed at the air, wrapping an arm around his neck when he released one wrist. His massive hand had grabbed your waist, slipping fingers under the hem of the shirt. Youâd shivered, and leaned into his mouth.
Heâd been solid. Safe. And youâd been so foolishly sure that he was going to be there forever.
âYou have.â Youâd breathed.
And youâd really believed it.
But then heâd just⌠Left.
Youâd woken up the next morning, and heâd been off with William Butcher to deal with Homelander. Heâd failed, on both the being with William Butcher front and the deal with Homelander front. Theyâd said he had died. Youâd sunken into something like a ghost, wandering through the world without touching anything, passing through days like they were all just a veil to something else.
There were regrets. Not demanding that he stay. Not kicking him out the first time he ended up on your doorstep. Talking to him that first night at the corner store at all, because at least then your heart wouldâve still been beating instead of this hollow, gray husk.
But you also wouldnât have traded him for the world. The time had been fleeting. Only a few splatters of paint on what had previously been a clean, respectable life.
Youâd found out you liked being dirty. You liked all the color it came with, and youâd liked how Ben had held your hand through the whole thing. You donât know why he had. You donât even know why heâd liked you, why heâd bothered coming back over and over, why heâd decided that youâof all the many, more interesting, more carefree people in the worldâwere the one he wanted to share himself with.
âYou shouldnât eat those.â Youâd told the strange, handsome man at one in the morning.
Heâd looked at you like you were crazy. Youâd blinked innocently backâa faint bell in your head, ringing that he looked familiar, and you shouldâve listened to itâand heâd raised his brows.
âYou talking to me?â
âUm,â youâd looked around the aisle. âYeah? Who else would I be talking to.â
The man had grunted. His eyes hadnât left yours for a second, and heâd been staring like he was trying to peel you apart. Youâd started to feel all dizzy under the attentionâhe was very pretty, and pretty people shouldnât stare like thatâand shifted on your feet.
âThere are studies.â Youâd said lamely. âAbout those drinks. They give you cancer.â
âCancer?â The man had snorted. âDoll, Iâm not worried about fucking cancer-â
âYou should be. Itâs linked to pancreatic cancer, which is very- Fast spreading.â All your usual, well performed confidence had been wavering. Why had he been staring at you like that. âBecause of the pancreases function in, um, your body, itâs basically- Itâs fast spreading-â
âYou said that already.â
Youâd swallowed. His voice was very deep. âOh.â
His eyes had shined with something that, in the moment, you hadnât understood.
Now you know it to his form of affection. When heâd look at you and decided that you were real fucking cute, like a twitchy bunnyâhis wordsâand wanted to have more.
In the store, youâd hadnât been sure if he was going to murder you or make an indecent proposal.
He hated that movie. Youâd made him watch it, a few weeks later, and heâd been furious she chose the penniless sad sack. Youâd told him youâd chose him, if he was the penniless sad sack. Heâd grumbled that he hoped youâd have better survival instincts than that, but youâd been able to read him by now. Heâd liked that a lot, and you had the hickies after to prove it.
And heâd laughed.
That night, heâd just laughed.
âYou some kind of a fucking doctor?â
âYeah.â Youâd said, nervous and small. âI- I am.â
The man had blinked. Looked over you like he was seeing you for the first time, and leaned back as if the sight punched him in the face. Youâd still been wearing your scrubs. Later youâd tease him about not paying attention.
Heâd say heâd just been that enraptured by your beauty. Youâd flush, and tell him he was using that word wrong. Heâd say he didnât fucking care, and kiss you until you were stupid and giggling.
âWhatâs good?â Heâd jerked his head at the drinks, and you pointed to a different can a shelf over.
Heâd eyed you suspiciously, but grabbed it and stomped away. Youâd thought heâd be gone when you paid for your own food and walked to the parking lot. Instead heâd been waiting at the counter, watching you with that same, wearily curious expression.
âAre you going to stalk me to my car?â Youâd asked causally, careful not to look him in the eyes.
Heâd grunted. âIâm escorting you. Stalking makes me sound like Iâm some fucking creep-â
âYouâre a stranger whoâs going to follow me to my car. I should be calling 911.â
â911 couldnât stop me, sweetheart.â
Youâd paused, frowning at him. Heâd rolled his eyes, looking around the store like he expected a camera crew to pop out and tell him the whole thing was a prank.
âDonât call 911.â Heâd muttered.
âWhy shouldnât I.â
âCause Iâm not going to fucking hurt you, thatâs why-â
âAnd why should I trust that?â
Heâd blinked. That thought hadnât occurred to him at all.
âI swear I wonât.â
âPromises mean nothing.â
âMy promises mean something-â
âNot to me, they donât.â
Heâd stared at you. Youâd tipped up your chin, and held his gaze. You were not going to be murdered in a parking lot tonight. Youâd ordered new pants last night, and you wanted to be alive to see them.
The man had caved before you. He hadnât been happy about it, but youâd come to learn that he was never openly happy about anything. There was his genuine annoyance, and his fluffy annoyance. Where he didnât mean a single groan or eye roll or muttered curse.
He saved that second one for you. And he hated that you called it fluffy annoyance, because he wasnât âfucking fluffyâ. But youâd tell him that you liked him fluffy, as long as it was just yours. And heâd said he was just yours, and heâd promised, and youâd learned how to believe him.
âMy name is Ben.â Heâd told you, reaching into his jacket. âAnd if I try to hurt you, use this.â
And heâd handed you a fucking gun. The poor cashier that had been listening to all of this shrieked and ducked behind the counter. Youâd gaped at Ben, then smacked his arm.
âWhat the fuck-â
âYou canât just pull out a gun, are you crazy!â
âDonât call me crazy, Iâm trying to make you feel- Fucking better or whatever-â
âHow is a gun going to make me feel better, Iâm a doctor-â
âSo you can stitch me up after you shoot me, all the fucking better-â
âI am not going to shoot you-â
âBut you could, thatâs what the damn gun is for-â
âI donât want your gun, I just-â Youâd cut yourself, glancing at the shaking cashier. It had just been some high school kid. He didnât deserve to deal with this.
And even then, some part of you had known. Ben was a lot of things. Most of them werenât half as pretty as his face.
But he wasnât a liar. Heâd realty thought the gun would make you feel better.
Later, youâd learn that it had really only been meant to make you feel better. Literally. That if he had been intending to hurt youâwhich he hadnât, as he reminded you all the timeâthe gun wouldnât have done fucking shit to stop that. But heâd thought it would help you be less nervous. And as much as youâd punch his dumb, big chest after he told you, you had to admit that the plan hadâin a very roundabout wayâworked.
âCome on.â Youâd turned on your heels and walked out of the store.
Ben had followed.
And for a strange, priceless month, youâd known that if you looked over your shoulder, heâd be there. It had become a comfort. It had become the best thing in your life.
Then it had been gone.
Ben had left you, and the world had only gotten darker from there.
So you have all these regrets, that you pile on top of your secret. And they tell you to be more careful. You havenât been on a date since Ben, although you never even technically dated. Youâd never even fucked. It had been a lot of kisses and sharing a bed and wandering hands. Ben had asked. Heâd asked all the time, and always sighed dramatically when you said after. After he was done with Butcher. After he dealt with Homelander, he could have whatever he wanted from you.
It was already his for the taking, he just needed to reach it.
And now all of you sat on a high, dusted shelf, waiting for hands that would never reach it.
Now, youâre careful.
After that girl down the hall, there had been the couple on the side of the highway. Theyâd been trying to hide from Black Noir, but one of them had an infected cut and was getting a fever. Youâd treated it, then been on your way.
Then there had been the little boy whoâs parents had been taken, and the shrapnel in his foot. The older woman whoâs son had been shot, and the people whoâd been hit in collateral and didnât have insurance. And you kept helping and helping and helping, but always with your head down. If you were smarter, you wouldnât help at all. It draws attention. Attention begs for investigation. Investigation undercovers secrets, and Ben had always been very clear.
No one could know who you are. What you were to him.
Why you have that gun in your closet, unloaded and kept clean like an heirloom. It wouldnât be hard to trace it to Ben. It wouldnât take a long timeâespecially for Sage, who youâve only seen once from afar but sent a chilling fear through your bones all the sameâto realize why you had one of Soldier Boyâs guns. To look at cameras and place timelines and know. What youâd meant to him.
Part of you wants her to. Maybe sheâd be able to tell you, after.
Because he hadnât stayed for you. And you hadnât been foolish enough to ask him to.
But still.
Youâd hoped he would.
âWe should go somewhere.â Heâd muttered one night, lying flat on his back.
And youâd looked at him in the dark, and found him staring back. Heâd always been staring back.
âWhen this is done.â Ben had reached over, grabbing your wrist. He did that when he needed your attention. You donât think he ever knew that he had all of you, whether he wanted to grab it or not.
âDone?â Youâd breathed. Ben had nodded.
âThe whole thing. All of it. Iâm not going back into acting and shit, everything is bad now anyway-â
âYou liked Paddington 2-â
âShhh.â Ben had covered your mouth, eyes shining. âCanât fucking prove that, can you, doll.â
Youâd shrugged smiling against his hand. Ben had leaned down until your brows were pressed together, and let out a slow, heavy breath.
âWeâll go.â Heâd said it like a secret. Like even in the empty room, you were still the only person he wanted anything to do with in the world. âAnywhere in the world that you want. No more of this fucking bullshit. Just you and me.â
And youâd giggled. Youâd pulled his hand away with a laugh, and kissed his adorable little frown.
âYou like me so much.â Youâd whispered.
Ben had only stared. His heavy sigh had fanned over your cheeks, and heâd kissed the space between your eyes.
âYou got no idea.â
And you wish you had.
You wish youâd asked him to stay, but you keep that buried with the rest of it. You donât want to think about how if you had, he mightâve.
If you had, he might still be next to you today.
You broke a cup. Â Â
The TV in the breakroom is always on, but you usually just spare it passing glances. Since Homelanderâs takeover, it mostly just plays Firecrackerâs stupid propaganda show, or reruns of old Vought movies with Starlightâs scenes cut out. It makes for a clonky, confusing storyline. Sometimes you watch it when youâre bored, if only to feel a ghost of a smile.
Other days, they play Benâs old movies. And you canât stand to listen to those. Just his voice makes you shiver and look around the room, as if he might materialize and grin at you the same way he always did. Like in his eyes, everything just narrowed down to you. The walls existed to hold you and everything around the room was a noise or blockade that needed to be moved, so he could be at your side.
Iâd swim in the ocean for you, doll. Heâd told you one. Youâd laughed. Heâd meant it to be romantic, but heâd just sounded annoyed about it, and it had been so stupidly sweet youâd fallen a little more in love with him. But love with Ben had always come like that. In slow drips that built up and up and up, until there was a bucket to be doused over your head and you had to understand.
That he had been everything.
Youâd known too late. The downpour had come with the news of his death, when every light had become too bright, and all the color in the world had been washed out to nothing. You hadnât been able to tell your co-workers why youâd stumbled and started to whine like a lost dog. Why youâd needed the week off, because your legs had turned to lead and it was too hard to get out of bed.
And youâre not going to be able to explain this, either.
Why you hear his voice, look up at the TV on an instinct youâre never going to be able to squash, and drop your cup.
It shatters all over the floor. The two nurses at the table shoot up to help, one saying something about walking carefully over the broken glass, but you donât hear it.
Thereâs only the ringing in your ears, andârising above it allâBenâs voice.
This isnât old footage. Youâd know. Youâve watched every video and listened to every archived radio interview, just trying to hold onto what you could.
No.
This is new.
Which means Ben- Heâs alive.
Heâs on the TV. Standing next to Homelander with a bored, unimpressed expression, hands on his belt, looking the exact same as he day he left you.
He left you.
It wasnât death that took him. Heâs right there, instead of at your side. His gaze is just as intense as before, and he holds himself with the same confident, lazy posture, and his mouth stays in the pretty, downturned line that you always loved grabbing up and pulling into a smile.
Heâd grab your wrists, but not move you away. Heâd ask what you thought you were doing, but he already knew. Youâd beam and kiss his nose. Heâd pretend to bite yours, and youâd dissolve into giggles and wrap around him like a koala. Heâd tell you he didnât know what he was going to do with you. Youâd call him a liar. Say he knew perfectly well what he wanted to do with you. And heâd grumble, because you teased him so much without ever actually throwing him a bone.
You always reminded him there were plenty of other women out there who would happily want his bone. Youâd wink, and heâd give you that adoring, exasperated look.
Heâd say he didnât care about any other bones but yours. Youâd say that you were both losing the metaphor.
Ben would say he didnât fucking care, and flip you under him. Youâd lose track of time. Of the movie you were supposed to be watching. Of the world.
And then he left.
Just left.
Wasnât taken. Ben just⌠Left. After telling you so many sweet thing, after making so many promises, he just left. And now heâs back.
But not back with you.
Your hand is bleeding. You tried to pick up some of the glass, and it sliced along your palm. You barely even feel it. A part of you was already bleeding all over the floor anyways.
He didnât come back.
Ben couldnât fucking find you.
He wasnât stupid. He wasnât about to go up to any of these weird little pussies and ask them where you were. He didnât need them to know you existed. No one needed to know you existed but Ben himself.
Before he chased after Butcher, heâd gone to your apartment. And heâd been a fucking idiot with this picture in his head, where heâd knock on the door and youâd been thrilled to see him. Heâd sweep you off your feet, and youâd be crying with joy, then heâd fuck you and carry you far, far away from here.Â
But heâd knocked. And knocked. And shouted your name, but no one had answered the fucking door.
Heâd broken in. Youâd be mad about that, if you were with him. That was the kind of thing that got him a stern finger and snapped Benjamin like he was a damn dog being scolded for pissing on the couch.
Donât kill that guy whoâs harassing me, Benjamin. Donât pick up that car in my parking spot and throw it across the street. Donât punch the dickheaded dumbass who cat called me, itâs fine, it happens all the time. Â
It was real fucking cute when you got all mouthy and angry with him, as if there was a damn thing you could do about it.
Although he had always listened.
But it was real hard to tell you no. Or upset you. Or do anything that made your voice all thick and eyes all watery and sad. Ben had a lot of fantasies about your wobbling lips and sad little kicked kitten eyesâthe ones you gave him when he was gone for longer than he said heâd be, or had very fucking reasonably verbally threated the men whoâd been giving you a hard timeâbut none of them involved you being sad. They were all about how pretty you looked like that, and how nice it would be to see that gorgeous sight without feeling so fucking bad about it.
His heart squeezed uncomfortably, when he made you upset or nervous. It was incredibly fucking annoying. When it had first happened, heâd decided he needed to keep you close. To figure out what the fuck you wereâwhat supe or Russian spy had been sent after himâso he could neutralize you.
Then youâd just been a person. And Ben had to deal with the fact that his dumbass fucking heart just did that for you. It didnât do that for anyone else, and heâd been alive a damn long time.
Heâd been angry about it, for about ten seconds.
And then youâd smiled at him.
Heâd decided that as long as you were smiling, there wasnât much to be angry about in the whole fucking world.
There were things to be angry about now, though.
You werenât smiling. You werenât there. Ben had kicked down your apartment door and found it empty. Bare.
Hollow.
Something inside of him had split and become so fucking hollow. Heâd ripped up the floorboards and checked in the vents. Heâd punched a hole in the wall and roared your name, but youâd been gone.
Someone had to have taken you. Youâd always been to smart and kind, you mightâve said something truthful and gotten dragged off to one of Homelanderâs stupid camps for it.
If you were dead, Ben was going to break some shit. A lot of shit. Namely, Homelanderâs fucking skull between his hands.
And if you were alive, heâd still probably do that anyways. For hiding you and hurting you. Heâd just be faster about it. You didnât need to see that shit, and the moment Ben had you again he wasnât going to let go for a damn second.
He just had to find you first.
Ben had been good at investigating, in his day. But shit had also been simpler. There hadnât been Sage hanging over his shoulder and watching him like a very annoying hawk. That Firecracker girl hadnât been trying to hit on himâa shame, because his dick was sore, but his hands hurt even trying to touch someone else so he shut it down fastâand Homelander hadnât been whining like a little fucking bitch baby all the damn time.
All these damn computers with their fucking passcodes and weird words didnât help either. Ben spent an hour trying to break into one, then physically broke it, and all the others in the lab.
The Fish-Fucker walked in on him. Ben narrowed his eyes, and the pussy paled and raised shaking hands.
âHey, dude, I didnât see anything-â
âYou know how to open a computer?â Ben barked, and Fish-Fucker blinked.
âUhh⌠You mean log into one?â Fish-Fucker laughed, high and weak. âYeah, bro, I know how to log in to a computer, who doesnât know how to-â
He cut himself off as Benâs jaw ticked, going even paler. He even looked like a fish.
âSorry, I didnât mean- You shouldnât kill me! I can log in, I can find whatever you want-â
âShut up.â Ben raised a hand, and the Fish-Fucker fell silent. âYou know how to keep your mouth shut?â
âYes. Yes- Sir-â
âOpen it.â Ben pointed at the computer, and Fish Fucker scrambled forward.
He grabbed the back of the pussies neck before he could sit down, dropping his voice to a hiss.
âYou tell anyone about this, I stuff you up like a fuck doll and turn you into fucking chow, you got that?â
Fish-Fucker nodded, throat bobbing and body twitching all pathetically. Ben let him go, and stood back up.
âGood. I got a name for you to look up.â
Fish-Fucker laughed nervously, nodding as he hit his fingers all over the keyboard. âMore revenge, sir?â
âNo.â Ben muttered, clasping his hand in front of him.
Revenge isnât going to help, Ben. Youâd told him that over and over again, but youâd also run your fingers through his hair and told him you wouldnât stop him. Heâd asked you if youâd still be there when he came back with blood on his hands. Heâd meant it to be teasing, a thing he used to say to old lovers to test how much they could handle. Theyâd always giggled and rolled their eyes like they thought it was a damn joke. Youâd tipped your head at him, eyes sharp and bright, and sighed.
Youâd told him heâd need to take a shower, first.
And Ben had known.Â
âWhat is it, then?â Fish-Fucker asked, and Ben didnât bother to answer.
That wasnât for anyone to know but him. You werenât for anyone to know. Not these horrible, weak people who would hurt you and use you against him.
Your face popped up on the screen. The smiling photo that youâd used on social mediaâyouâd taught him what that was, and he didnât fucking care for it but he sure as hell liked seeing pictures of youâand a link to your profile at that hospital youâd worked at.
You still worked there. You werenât gone.
Benâs heart did a little flutter. He ignored it. That kind of gooey shit could be saved for after he found you.
âWho is she?â Fish-Fucker peered at your photo. Ben should pop his eyeballs out of his damn skull. âA Starlighter?â
Ben grunted. âDonât ask stupid fucking questions.â
Fish-Fucker said something else. Ben didnât listen to it.
He had to go find you.
You get home, and you feel like nothing.
Itâs been two weeks, since you found out Ben was alive. Two long weeks where time dragged you through the mud and you had to learn how to keep your heart beating.
You pulled out the gun every night. Youâd never shoot itâyou didnât even have ammunitionâbut youâd needed to hold it. To cling to proof that it hadnât all been a dream. Heâd been here. Heâd given you part of him to keep.
Then heâd decided you werenât worth the rest.
Youâd thought, like a naĂŻve, lovesick school girl, that you were going to be worth the rest.
You kick off your shoes, and go straight for the gun again. You lie on the floor, because itâs cold and that forces you to stay awake. You havenât been sleeping properly, and when you pass out from exhaustion you donât wake up well rested. It all hurts. It always hurts, and you donât think itâs ever going to not hurt again.
You close your eyes, hugging the gun tight to your chest. Tears are burning behind your eyes again. Youâd been hoping youâd run out, but you feel the hot shame of one sliding down your cheek. A broken sob rattles through your chest, and youâve given up on fighting it.
This is just always going to hurt.
âI didnât give you that so you could shoot yourself, doll.â
You scream. Your hands fly before you can think, scrambling to grab the gun. Some scratch in the back of your head knows that a bad idea, and drum in your chest demands that itâs bad idea, but youâre tired and afraid. You thought you were alone, and youâre not, so you aim the gun straight at the man standing in your door.
Ben grabs it like heâs taking a toy from a toddler. He takes out the empty clip and examines it with a frown, his hair flopping over his face. Youâre breathing so shallow you think you might have passed out. Youâve had a lot of dreams about him since he left. Youâve just finally gone off the deep-end, and now theyâre hallucinations.
âHm. Not loaded.â Ben tosses the clip off to the side, shooting you a smirk. âGood girl.â
You donât know if you scream again, or crawl to him on your knees. He sounds real. He looks real. Heâs smiling at you like he never left, like you hadnât pour every piece of yourself out to make room for the swelling grief of his absence. If you reach out, you think youâd find solid muscle and warmth. A heart that beats under your fingers, in a rhythm you always hear when you close your eyes. Ben would cover your hand with his own, holding onto your wrist the same way he did before. Like he wanted to tie you together. Like he could never bear to let go.
Or youâd just pass right through thin air.
And everything you have left would dissolve with the illusion.
You wrap your arms tight around your stomach, drawing your knees to your chest. You know this is fear. You know Ben thinks fear is weak, but heâs never looked at you and said you were anything but his.
Then he left.
And youâre not anyoneâs anymore.
Ben says your name, and you swallow. He sounds so real.
âBen?â You whisper.
A familiar smile ghosts over his lips. It terrifies you.
âMe.â He murmurs, tossing the gun onto the couch without breaking your gaze. âHey, doll.â
He takes a step forward.
You push back, pressing yourself into a small ball on the floor.
Ben freezes. His brow furrows, and his lips press in a tight, thin line. He reaches out. And you donât want to touch him and know heâs not real.
You shrink away.
âHow did you get in.â You whisper, fixing your gaze on his knees.
âYou didnât lock the door.â Ben grunts. âWhich we gotta talk about later, thatâs not fucking safe, but first-â
He says your name, reaching once more, and you squeeze your eyes shut.Â
Strong, warm fingers grab your chin. You make a tiny noise from the back of your throat, and for a split second, the whole world goes still.
You can feel him. Heâs tipping your chin up, handling you like a baby bird even as he angles it how he wants, and you can feel him.
âLook at me.â Ben mutters, and you drag your eyes open.
Heâd kneeling in front of you, brow furrowed tight. Thereâs that look again. The one that makes you naked and exposed, your clothing sticking to your skin and every inch of you seen.
Ben sees you. You can see him.
And either youâd fully lost your mind, or heâs⌠Heâs reallyâŚ
âYouâre here.â You breathe. âYouâre real.â
Benâs eyes snap to yours. His frown deepens.
ââCourse Iâm real, why the hell wouldnât I be real.â
âYou left.â
And something flashes over his features. Itâs furious and loud, but not directed at you. His fingers on your chin donât even flex.
âI didnât leave.â He grunts, the words pushed through his teeth. âI told you Iâd never fucking leave you.â
Your tongue flicks over your lips. You shake your head.
âI saw you on TV.â
He chuckles. âYeah, those weird fuckinâ attention sluts love a camera-â
âYou were there, Ben.â You cut him off with only a whisper. âNot here. I- I thought you were dead.â
The stupid tears are back. And they always blur the whole world, but Ben remains sharp. Of course he does. Bastard.
âI waited.â Your voice breaks. Ben watches you, his jaw clenched tight. âI thought you were dead and I still waited, and you- You were just on TV-â
âDonât say it like that, itâs- Thatâs not what this shit is-â
âYou left.âÂ
âNo, I didnât-â
âYou left me.â You scream, and Ben blinks.
Itâs like every bit of pain, every scrape and open wound youâve been treating with paper band-aides, Benâs ripped everything wide open. Your tears are falling freely, your voice high and soft as you struggle to breathe, all the grief and anger at him crashing from your mouth in unforgiving waves.
âYou left me, you said youâd come back, you said weâd go anywhere and youâd be here and you- You fucking left me here and I- I-â
Your word crack into a body-shaking sob, and you try to slump away from him. To just sink into the floor where he canât see your weakness, your crying, every fissure in the mask youâre usually so good at keeping together. You donât want him to see the rawness underneath. The way that youâve always been ill-matched, because thereâs nothing in Ben that even knows how to break, but youâre like an gastropod. Every bit of armor is borrowed and crafted. Under it, youâre nothing for him.
Weak.
âYou left me.â Youâre still breathing it out. You canât stop. âYou left.â
Ben sighs. And when he gets up and walks away, youâre going to be okay. Youâre going to find a way to be okay, even if that means just having this gaping feeling forever.
But Ben doesnât leave.
He wraps around you, and you wiggle a little, but he doesnât let go. He pulls you fully into his lap, and you go limp. Your face presses into his chest, tears flowing freely with every shaking, silent sob. Ben rubs your back, holding you steady. And despite yourself, you hold on. You sink in your nails where you never shouldâve let go, and you hold on.
His heartbeat hasnât changed. And everything in your still recognizes it.
Still calls it yours.
âDidnât run.â He mutters once your breathing has evened, tangling his fingers in your hair. âButcher turned on me, helped Homelander and that Maeve bitch knock me off the tower. Got put back under. Homelander woke me up. And the first fucking thing I did was start looking for you, but you werenât where I left you.â
You swallow. Youâd moved because you couldnât stand that apartment without him. You turned every corner and expected him to be there. It was pure torture.
âBut I found you.â Ben continues. âI fucking found you. And Iâm not going again, doll. Weâre leaving, together, and thatâs it.â
Ben tugs on your head, and you let him pull you back. Heâs not cryingâyouâd be shocked if he knew howâbut thereâs a heavy light in his eyes, like a lamp thatâs begging to be bright enough to be seen. You reach up to trace his jaw. His eyes close for a second, and he leans into the touch.
Your throat bobs. Your voice is still small.
âWhy should I believe you?â
Benâs eyes shoot open, glinting and sharp. Not dangerous. Never to you.
Just focused.
âBecause Iâm telling the fucking truth-â
âSwear it?â
Ben nods, and you tilt your head.
âYou swore youâd come back.â
âAnd I am back.â He grabs your wrist, keeping your hand to his face. âNo promises got broken, doll. And Iâm not fucking leaving without you.â
You laugh, something in you breaking and fusing together all at once. Like glass, burning before it gets to be something beautiful. Something that can let the light in.
âDonât say that.â You breathe, holding his gaze. âIâll believe you.â
Benâs eyes narrow. He leans over you, that attention as unwavering as always, and suddenly thereâs nowhere to hide. Not that you ever could. Not from him.
âYou think Iâm not serious?â He murmurs, low and dangerous.
You donât flinch. You never have.
âProve that you are.â
A deep sound rumbles from Benâs chest. He lets go of his hand, his own flying up to frame your face. Your breath hitches, right as his lips slam against yours.
Youâve kissed Ben many times. He always does it like itâs going to be the last time he ever touches you. Heâs demanding in how much you take, but never how much you give. Your mouth falls open in a moan, and he grunts, hauling you up his chest to deepen the kiss. Itâs sloppy and wet, your fingers scrambling against his shirt to keep steady, but he doesnât falter for a single second.
âBe- Ben-â
He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing as his teeth drag over your swollen lips.
âBen-â
âThatâs right.â He grunts. âSay my name, I know you didnât forget who fuckinâ owns you.â
God, you should shove him for that. But he knows what it does to you. He smirks, when your thighs clench and a soft whine escapes your lips.
Ben lands a sharp slap on your ass. It makes you keen, collapsing over his chest. Youâre pulling at him, kisses uncoordinated and desperateâhow did you ever survive without this, youâre not sureâas you try to further a kiss thatâs already fusing you together by the mouth.
He doesnât even come up for air.
âOh- Fuck, Ben-â
He speaks against your lips, voice rolling in his chest.Â
âI know, doll. You believe me now, donât you.â
âYe- Yes-â
Another slap. This time he lets his hand drag lower, teasing over the crease between your thighs, then the hem of your shorts. Your hips buck into the featherlight touch. Ben grunts, short and tight.
âDirty girl.â He mutters, starting to wander his kisses over your cheeks. âSay it louder. You fucking believe me.â
âI- Ooooh-â
You press your face into his neck, biting down a moan. The tips of his fingers are tracing your pussy through your shorts. You sink your nails into his shoulders, your breathing ragged as he starts to trace them back and forth.
âYou what?â He teases, nipping at your ear. âHeard you start to say something doll, you already that stupid? Iâm barely fucking touching you.â
âYou- Youâre touching enough.â You breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut. âMore- Please-â
âMore?â Ben snorts. âYouâre always getting me on that fucking feelings shit, you donât get more until you talk.â
You shake your head. âBen, I- I canât-â
âCanât what? Canât speak? Canât say Ben, I believe you. âCause trust me doll, when you do Iâm going to touch you for real, and youâll feel real fucking stupid for how youâre acting right now.â
Ben rips clean through your shorts, and thick, warm fingers start to rub the lips of your pussy. He scissors two fingers, pressing them just upside your core, then dragging back and forth. Itâs all pressure and not enough friction. Itâs going to drive you out of your mind.
âCome on, baby, whereâd all that fucking spunk go-â
âYou- Benjamin-â
âUh oh.â He laughs. âIâm in trouble.â
The tips of his fingers graze your clit. You whine, grinding back into the touch, and Ben grabs your pussy with a single hand. Heâs covering it completely, pinning you to his chest, and you moan so loud you think it echoes.
âThink youâre going to forgive me?â He mutters in your ear. âThink Iâm not dead fuckinâ serious, when I tell you that Iâm back. That I want you, all of you, and Iâd kill people to have it.â
âI- I donât want you to kill anyone.â You breathe, dazed and drunken on him.
Ben chuckles, kissing right under your jaw.
âI know you donât, pretty girl. And Iâll go on the damn leash if youâre yanking me, but Iâm not letting you drop me. We go, we go together, you fucking remember that. We get out. You gonna get out with me?â
âBen-â
âIâll take care of you.â He mutters. His hand starts to move again, torturously slow. âIâll be real fucking good to you, swear it. Swear it on you.â
Two fingers slide over your pussy, spreading your arousal on his fingertips. A slow, breathless sigh of escapes your lips, and Ben lets you have this. He teases those fingers over your cunt a few times, then slowly pushes one of them in. You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck. Just his finger is the biggest stretch of your life.
âI know.â He kisses under your ear, pressing it further in until heâs at the knuckle. âItâs a lot, isnât it. But youâre doinâ so fucking well. Sweet fucking pussy, all wet and tight for me.â
âMmmh.â
âSay itâs for me.â He demands, crooking them so they hit a soft little button youâre never able to find yourself.
âBen-â
âSay it.â
âSâ for you-â You take in a sharp breath, when he starts to slowly pump them in and out. âAll for you, Ben, I- Iâm all-â
Your words break into a moan. Heâs pressing back against that same spot, rubbing it until youâre squeezing around him before drawing shallowly out and slamming back in. Obscene sounds fill the room, and you didnât even know you could get this wet.
Itâs a grace. Benâs finger is massive. You can feel every drag of him inside you, and youâre not sure how youâre managing to take it when you keep squeezing around him.
âHow- How big is your dick?â
He barks a laugh, pulling your face back with his hand on the back of your neck. He kisses you slowly, matching the pace of his fingers moving inside you.
âYouâll see, baby.â He says. âJust need to be good.â
You pout slightly. âI am being good.â
Benâs lips twitch. He kisses your forehead, then suddenly speeds his fingers up. Your back arches, hips grinding as you try to chase the feeling, but he holds you firm.
âBen-â
âSay it.â He grunts, squeezing the back of your neck. âYou wanna be so fucking good, say it-â
âI love you!â Your words come sudden and desperate. âI- I love- I love you, please-â
You almost scream, when his fingers stop moving. You grab his wrist, blinking in hopeless confusion. Benâs jaw is clenched tight, his eyes wide and nostrils flaring.
Then you realize.
Shit.
âBen, I- I didnât-â
âYou didnât mean it?â He grunts, and you shake your head frantically.
âI didnât mean to- I just- I missed you, and you said- And you were-â You gesture frantically at his hand. His fingers, still buried deep inside you. âAnd I- You donât have to-â
Ben moves, and your words turn into a squeal. Youâre airborne, being tossed over his shoulder as he stands.
âFuck- Benjamin, what are you-â
He slaps your ass, then drags two fingers back through your pussy. You close your eyes, biting your lower lip to stifles the moan at the perfect combo of pleasure and pain.
Ben spanks you again, his voice stern as he moves to his feet.
âDonât fucking do that quiet shit. Let me hear you.â
His finger pushes back into your cunt, finding that spongey spot in a second. This time you let yourself moan fully, and youâre rewarded with a scraping kiss on your ass.
âThere you go, baby. Thatâs what I want.â
You keen at the praise, and you donât know why you bothered hiding it from him. Ben feels and see the flutter of your pussy and chuckles. Your knees are dragged together, forcing more pressure, making you tighter around his finger when he shoves it back in.
âBe- Ben-â Your getting light-headed, from the combination of his touch and being upside down. âWhat- Whatâre we doing-â
âYouâre telling me where the bedroom is.â He grunts, turning in a circle like a magic sign is going to appear. âThen Iâm fucking you âtill you canât walk.â
âOh- Okay.â
You grab a fistful of his shirt as he slaps your ass again, moaning when that fucking finger starts to pump once more. Thereâs a pressure building in your core, and the way heâs holding you is only making it worse. Like youâre just a toy, but still the most important thing in his life. He keeps kissing your thigh and ass while he fingerfucks you. Your exposed to the cold air, the window is open, but the warmth of his hand and bodyâthe warmth of what heâs doing to youâis almost too much to handle.
âBed, doll.â His reminder is gruff, but soft.
You nod, your tongue all loose and hopeless. âI- I um- It was- That way-â
You press on his shoulder, steering him towards the door and Ben slaps your pussy.
âGood girl.â
The praise and touch shoot through you like a drug. You think you might be about to cum just like this. Over Benâs shoulder with barely any friction at all.
He kicks the door open, and marches into your room. Youâve never seen him so focused before. He lays you down on the bed with shocking care, before ripping at your clothing like a child on Christmas.
Ben whistles, when youâre fully exposed to him.
âLook at you, baby, canât believe I was sleeping next to you for months and you wouldnât let me touch.â
You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your breasts. âYou didnât earn touching. Only good, domesticated boys get that.â
Ben scowls, pulling off his shirt. âIâm a domesticated fucking man, doll.â
And you giggle. Because heâs so fucking stupid, but heâs here. Youâd cry if there wasnât a helium filled light, blooming through your body.
You still might cry.
Benâs looking at you like youâve lost your mindâand like he doesnât care the slightest, heâs just mostly concernedâand you laugh more because youâre definitely going to cry. Youâre going to cry during sex with Soldier Boy, and heâs still going to fuck you anyway.Â
âYou know itâs not nice to start fucking laughing before a man takes his pants off-â
âI love you.â
You say it plainly, because it is. You love Ben. You have for so long, and it had been buried like treasure, but now heâs here. Now it gets to shine, and itâs far too bright to be ignored.
Ben looks shell-shocked. Heâs panting like you punched him, but youâre not worried. Heâs a big boy. Heâll be okay.
You both will.
âI love you,â you repeat, beaming up at him. âI love you so much, Ben, I-â
You giggle again, as he almost stumbles forward to kiss you. His massive chest envelops you, his kisses pushing you back into the mattress, and you meet him with everything you have.
Ben pulls back. Staring at you the same way he always has.
Like heâs found the last, greatest wonder of the world.
âSay it again.â He mutters.
âI love you.â
You offer it easily. Itâs his to have.
And Ben seems to swallow it. His mouth closes, his tongue flicking over his lips, and you know that face.
It means heâs on a fucking mission.
âHereâs how this is going.â He grunts, fixing you with a glare. âYou listen. I work. Iâm tasting you,â he slaps your pussy again, lips twitching at the full body shutter it gives him. âThen youâre going to cum on my cock until youâre sobbing, and Iâm going to keep fucking you until you canât walk. You got that.â
You swallow and nod. Benâs eyes narrow.
âYou talk to me, sweetheart, I canât read your fucking mind.â
âGot it.â You breathe, your legs spreading wide.
Itâs a shameless offering. Ben slaps your pussy again, and you buck a little of the bed with a whine of delight.
âHold onto something.â He winks, sliding slowly down your body. âI ainât going fucking easy.â
You expect no less of him. And youâd be able to make that joke, if he didnât lick a thick stripe up your pussy and make you shriek.
âHoly fuck-â Your eyes roll back in your head, your hands clawing at the sheets.
Ben chuckles, the sound vibrating against you, and repeats the motion. Your thighs press together, but he shoves them back open with a single hand, settling fully down.
âNo hiding from me.â He mutters, breath warm over your core. âLook at you, doll. Even prettier from down here, didnât know that was fucking possible.â
You laugh breathlessly. âKiss ass.â
âGets me places.â Ben kisses the inside of your thigh, sucking softly.
His beard scrapes and tickles against you, his chin pressing where you need him and his nose bumping your neglected clit.
âOhhhh.â You close your eyes, slowly running your fingers through his hair. âOh God, Ben-â
He hums in approval, switching to match the mark on the other side. Heâs let go of your thighs to grab everywhere else, rubbing your ass, your hips, your sides. He slides a massive palm over your abdomen, pinning you to be bed. You should know thatâs a warning sign, but youâre too lost in the heat of his mouth.
âBen...â You moan freely, covering his hand with one of yours.
He flips it over, and you thread your fingers together.
Another warning.
âThatâs- Fuck-â
He blows on your clit, and shivers run up your spine. You donât think you can take being teased any longer. Not right now.
âMore, Ben, more-â
A dark, promising chuckle rumbles in his chest. You crane your neck to look at him, and realize your mistake too late.
Heâd been waiting for you to ask. And now that you have, heâs not holding back.
Ben shoves his face fully between your thighs, lapping and sucking at your clit and soaked pussy like a man starved, and your mouth falls in a long, silent scream.
Youâve been eaten out before, but never like this. Benâs going at you the same way he kisses you. The same way he does everything. With everything he has, and the mindset that less is a sin. If something is worth doing, heâs not going to slack.
And your pussy is under that full focus. Itâs almost too much to handle.
Ben makes out with every sensitive spot, inside and outside. He licks and tongue-fucks, letting you squeeze around him and pushing your ass up to hit a better angle. He noses at your clit while he works on your gaping, leaking hole, then switches.
Soft, slightly chapped lips wrap around your clit, sucking on you with all the power of a fucking sex toy. His tongue flicks back and forth over and over again, building you into a whining, cloudy eyed frenzy. You scratch at his scalp and pull on his hair, but it just makes him moan, and now everything is vibrating.
Everything seems to make him moan. Ben grunt every time you jerk your hips, slamming them back down and squeezing your hand. He moans when you squeeze down on his tongue, when he brings you right up to the edge then stops at the last second, so you slam his shoulders in frustration.
Sometimes he laughs. And thatâs even worse. It makes his massive armsâwrapped around your hipsâflex, and it goads him into working you impossibly deeper. You turn your face, pressing it into the pillows. Ben squeezes your hand, dragging your clit between his teeth before pulling away for a single second.
âEyes.â He grunts, and your attention snaps over.
âBe- Ben-â
âWatch me, doll.â He open-mouth kisses you clit, and you whimper. âThatâs right, donât you look away for a fucking second.â
Now that youâre watching, you couldnât if you tried.
Ben goes back to his self-assigned job, and the sight is more lewd and sinful than any porno in the world. His massive shoulders roll and flex as he moves you how he wants. You canât see his mouth, but you can see him moving his head with his tongue on your clit. He shakes it, playing the nerve bundle like a bop-it, and youâre right back up the edge again.
And again, Ben stops.
You almost scream, and Ben chuckles. He kisses your poor, throbbing clit all sweet, then goes back to slowly working his tongue against your entrance. Youâre wound too tight. You think you might snap from just the wrong breath.
âBe- Ben-â You pull his hair, trying to get him back up to your clit. âBen, let me cum- I- I need to cum-â
He just moans again. Youâre going to kill him.
âPlease, I- I canât take it-â You moan, trying to squirm your body further onto his face. âGod, Ben, I canât- I need it so bad, please-â
Sharp, lust-blown eyes snap to yours. You whimper, giving him your best hopeless pout. Itâs the one that usually gets him to cave. He laughs and shakes his head and gives you whatever you want, grumbling affectionately about how damn impossible you are.
But this time, he just smirks against your pussy. And you might have him wrapped around your finger, but heâs got you cornered.
Take it. Heâd said.
You donât think you have a choice.
âLook at you,â Ben drawls, kissing your clit. His beard drags. You whimper, eyes locked onto his.
The sounds earns you another kiss, and it makes you squirm. With how his eyes gleam, youâre worried heâll just keep you like this all night.
âYouâre close.â He mocks, rubbing his palm against your pussy. âSo close, baby doll. I can fuckinâ see it, youâre about to cry.â
You glare at him, and he just grins.
âYou think Iâll give a shit? Think I donât want to see you break for me?â
He presses his hand down harder. You go to reach for it, but Ben grabs your wrist and pins it firmly next to him on the mattress.
âNo touching.â He grunts. âMine.â
Oh, that makes you clench around nothing. After, youâre going to force him to make dinner and maybe do taxes or drive a car to earn feminism points back, but right now everything is just Ben, lying between your legs, calling you his.
And heâs staring at your pussy, almost transfixed. You moan as his thumb rubs your clit, his hand rising up so he can watch you react. You can feel yourself, gushing and fluttering. Desperate for anything he can give you. Youâll beg more, youâll take it however he wants, you just need more.
âChrist on a fucking cross.â Ben mutters, pressing his cheek into your thigh. âYou know, Iâve seen a lot of pussies, doll.â
You shoot him a look. âRomantic.â
He rolls his eyes, pinching your clit between his fingers.
âWas going to say yours is the best, you fucking brat.â
You smile, cupping his cheek with trembling fingers. Youâre seconds from exploding with desire, but you just want to hold him. Feel him, for only a little longer.
Something in Benâs expression shifts. For the briefest moment, it softens. His shoulders relax, and the slow breath he lets out sounds like a release. He kisses the inside of your palm. His thumb pushing on your clit, dragging it back and forth in a steady, relieving rhythm.
But youâre too sensitive. Youâre being worked back up too fast, and tears start to prick.
âBen.â You breathe, fingers curling against his cheek. âPlease.â
He smirks. Thereâs one last kiss on your clit, then another on your well-bruised thighs. He rises to his knees, slapping your pussy while one hand undoes his belt.
Ben chuckles, at the way you fully tremble from the hit.
âYou fucking like that shit, donât you.â
You shrug, watching his belt slide away. âMaybe.â
âYou do. Can see it, you-â He pushes two fingers back into your cunt, and you moan.
âBen- Oooooh-â
He tosses aside his belt, spanks your clit, and grins triumphantly.
âFucking felt that. You started pouring on me like a waterfall, you love it-â
You kick at his thigh, flushing and rolling your eyes. âShut up.â
âDonât think I will.â He drawls, going back to his pants. âThink I get to talk as much as I want, baby doll. Youâre the one thatâs going to be fucked all damn stupid.â
You had a smart, sharp retort.
It dies when Ben pulls down his pants, and you see his cock.
Of course heâs such an arrogant, smug ass. Endowed is too weak a word. Heâs blessed. Heâs got the most beautiful cock youâve ever seenâthick and long in all the best ways, like it was handcrafted to give your pussy a heart attackâand with the look on his face, he fucking knows it.
âSee something you like,â he grins down at you, stroking himself slowly.
âI⌠UmâŚâ You lick your lips, crawling slowly up the mattress. âYouâre veryâŚâ
You trail off again. Youâre humping the sheets like an animal, forcing yourself not to just fucking touch yourself, but itâs impossible. Heâs too⌠everything.
Ben laughs, prowling up over you.
âYouâre fucking drooling.â
âYouâre pretty.â
âI am not fucking pretty.â
âYou are.â You roll your eyes, letting Ben drag you onto your back. âYouâre so pretty, Ben, itâs bonkers.â
He grunts, settling himself above you. âPretty is what you call a fucking show pony.â
âYou are a show pony.â
That earns you a glower. You beam back in return, giggling at your own jokes.
âWhen weâre done, you should let me braid your- Oh my God-â
You grab at his shoulder, eyes going wide as Ben slides his cock into you with one, smooth movement. He drives right into your g-spot, dropping his hips so heâs pinning you into it. He grinds down, abs rubbing on your clit, and there it is.
That coil that had been building in you all night. Ben gets inside of you for ten seconds, and you snap.
You writhe and scramble under him, grabbing at his chest and trying to hide from the overwhelming orgasm ripping through your body. Ben grabs your jaw and forces your gaze back to his, still grinding down onto you as it drags on. You whimper, making garbled sounds of his name.
Ben kisses you, as you twitch through the last bits of it. You turn to limp putty, moaning into his mouth and shivering as he settles at being bottomed out.
âThatâs what I wanted to see.â He mutters, nipping at your upper lip. âThatâs what I fucking dreamed about.â
You whimper, and Ben laughs. He gives you a shallow thrust, and your eyes go wide.
âDonât think Iâm done with you yet, baby.â He teases, ghost his lips over yours. âWe got a lot of fucking time to make up for, and you,â he gives another, sharper slam of his hips. âAre too fucking gorgeous to just give one orgasm.â
A strangled sound escapes your lips, and Ben grins.
âI know. But feel that,â he pulls all the way out, then slams back in. âReal good, isnât it. Fuck, this pussy was made for me. Going to fuck you until my name is written on it, until it canât even take anyone else.â
His logic is flawed, but you still moan. Hard not to, when youâve got all the mass and power of him over you, driving in and out of you at a torturously slow pace.
âThatâs my girl.â He coos, bumping your nose before going for a hot, sloppy kiss. âThatâs a good fuckinâ cock slut for me, arenât you.â
Your eyes fly open, your pussy clenching down, and Ben laughs. He starts to drill into you, knocking every bit of air from your lungs.
âYeah, I know how you like it. My dirty baby, get off of me telling you that I own you,â he slams down, and tears burn at your eyes. âThat Iâm going to fucking wreck you, turn you into my fuck doll, my sweet little fucking whore.â
You moan, the shame only making the heat in your tummy build faster. Ben rises over you, hair pressed to his brow from sweat.
âThatâs right. Take it, take this cock and thank me for it.â
He slides his thumb over your lips, pressing down ever so slightly as his cock fucks ruthlessly in and out of your pussy. You mewl, opening your mouth for him to take. Ben laughs, thick and breathless, and pushes his thumb in.
âFucking- Christ-â He groans as you start to suck. âYouâre so fucking beautiful, and- Tight-â
He groans, fucking impossibly harder. The bed squeaks and shifts. You moan around his thumb, tears flowing down your cheeks.
âCrying for me, baby doll, so fucking desperate youâre going to cry for it- Shit-â
Your second orgasm hits suddenly. You clench down on Ben, making him groan loudly. His chest is tight with restraint, and you scratch at the muscle, whining around his thumb.
Itâs so much. Too much. Youâre stuffed so full, and you can barely breathe, and itâs perfect but you donât know what to do with yourself but sob and moan.
âThere you go, so tight and warm.â Benâs babbling. You think heâs lost himself as much as you have. âFuck, youâre going to be death of me if you keep lookinâ like that, gotta-â
You squeak as Ben pulls his thumb and cock out with wet sounds. Thereâs no time to protest the loss, though, before youâre being flipped onto your stomach and fucked within and inch of your life.
Ben drags your ass in the air, barely giving you a second to recover before heâs back to railing you into the mattress. You cum even faster this time, between the filthy words and deeper position.
âGreedy pussy canât get enough, can she.â Ben grunts in your ear, his chest draped over your back. âYou love it, fucking love being marked up and fucked like an animal. You fucking slut, bet that pretty mouth needs something to suck on again. Be youâll look so pretty choking on my dick, to bad you look even fuckinâ better like this.â
You cum again with Benâs thumb in your mouth, tears on your cheeks, and his body wrapped around yours. Then a third time, when he rises up and plays with your ass, shoving your head into the mattress to watch you cry and try to wiggle back on his cock.
After a while, you lose track of what position your in. Youâre over him, then under, then pressed against the headboard and folded in half. You donât know how heâs held himself off this long. Youâre a boneless, oversensitive puddle made of countless orgasms, by the time Ben starts to rut and groan.
Ben finishes inside you, holding you firmly above him as his hips jerk up. You watch him come apart under dazed, tear-stained lashes. Itâs the most beautiful sight in the world. Heâs pumping into you, hot and jerking, dripping out of your pussy as just more and more comes. A wet sound fills the air, and you can see his own release stained over his abdomen as he just keeps going.
You think you pass out, after. You must, because when you come too, youâre lying on clean sheets and wearing Benâs shirt. You stare at the ceiling for a while, still partially lost to the world.
You come back to earth, when Ben says your name. Heâs coming out of the shower, bare-chested and glorious.
He gives you that small smile, and you return it without a thought.
âFeeling alright?â He mutters, climbing into bed at your side.
No pants. Unhelpful.
âUm-â You stare at his cock, swinging between his thighs. Your mouth is watering. âYouâŚâ
âJesus, woman.â He snorts. âIâm not trying to fucking break you, stop slobbering.â
âI am not slobbering-â
âYeah, you fucking are.â
You stick your tongue out and try to roll away, but Benâs right. He worked you. One movement comes with a whine, and suddenly youâre being pinned below Benâs bare body.
âRest.â He scolds, and you roll your eyes.
âYouâre not my boss-â
âYeah, but I love you, and Iâm going to be real damn pissed if you hurt yourself.â He taps your jaw. âRest.â
You blink at him.
And again, Ben just finds a way to make you feel more full.
âYou love me?â You whisper.
He blinks. You donât think he knows he said it.
âOf course I do-â
âSay it.â
He scowls. âYou heard it, means I said it-â
âSay it again.â You give him that look. The pouty one.
This time, itâs going to work.
âPlease?â You add.
Ben sighs, shaking his head, and glares at you like youâre the bane of his existence.
You might be. But he likes it, and heâs the one whoâs going to be keeping you at the center of his universe.
âI love you.â He grunts.
You beam, and Ben kisses you with a labored sigh. Itâs slow. Romantic.
Meant to remind you that you have time.
âGood boy.â You whisper, and he groans.
âYouâre real lucky-â
âYeah.â You cut him off, and he lets you.
He always lets you. Because he loves you.
âI am.â
âŚEnd note: i dont care what he does in the show this is my emotional support old horny manâŚ
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