#ben x reader

you and ben sat beside each other on the creaky bed, just barely touching under the covers you are forced to share. you’re sat up with your arms around your knees, while ben is sprawled out with his arm beneath his head.

going on vacations and trips with your friend, emma, and her dad was not uncommon. you two were glued at the hip ever since first becoming friends. you’d share rooms, beds, sometimes even showers. it wasn’t weird to you or her, so there stood no problem. every trip, you and emma would end up rooming while her father would get himself a single, but this time was different.

emma got herself a boyfriend. and with said boyfriend, she had to room with him. it was the most logical. so unfortunately you were stuck rooming with her father, ben.

ben was always good to you, making sure you felt like his real daughter. he loved you like his own, and certainly treated you as such. luckily for him, your father was a deadbeat, so ben quickly filled himself into a fatherly role.

here you were now, years later, formed as a proper woman—your body was enough evidence for that. he was infatuated with you, which made him decide that it was finally time to mark you as his.

letting out a yawn, you leaned over to grab the remote as the movie had ended. you don’t realize that your ass was up in bens view, with your back arched as you reached for the remote. you let out a struggled sound, your arms just not long enough to reach.

ben chuckled behind you, and swiftly pressed against you to grab the remote. him being much bigger than you, he pulled it with ease. you let out a gasp, feeling your ass flush against his crotch. you quickly recoil, slamming yourself back onto the mattress away from him.

after turning off the tv, ben placed himself on top of you, and glided his hand down your cheek. it tickles you ever-so slightly, until it reached your neck, which he firmly gripped.

“ben…” you whispered, “what are you doing?” your voice was ignored as ben stared down at you. he licked his bottom lip, his eyes still on your plush lips. “just trust me, sweetheart,” he whispers.

you weren’t blind; you knew from the day you met him how good looking he was. although being much older, he looked amazing. he had a full head of hair, beautiful doe eyes, and a god-sculpted body. but you avoided thinking about him like that, he was your best friend's father after all. you couldn’t let whatever it is he wanted to happen. it was wrong, disgusting, maybe even unlawful. because no matter what, you started to see ben as a father, someone you had grown to trust and love.

“no, please. stop,” you breathed. you were scared, terrified. you wanted to believe he wasn’t in his right mind, that he was in a state of delusion—that he didn’t know what he was doing. but he knew, alright.

bringing his face closer to yours, he gripped your throat harder. “don’t make this hard… unless you like it that way.” he smirked wickedly before bringing his lips to your neck. you let out a whimper as he kissed and sucked on your neck, being sure to leave traces of himself. you tried to push him away, but he was too strong. he growled on top of you, pulling away from your neck. “stop fucking moving,” he demanded. you let out a sob, accepting your defeat.

with a victorious smile on his face, ben began to pull your shirt off. he tossed it behind him and began to lick and kiss all over your chest. despite still wearing a bralette, it was sheer and thin so it served no barrier. you'd never felt this before-such intimate actions. his tongue darted to circle around your covered nipple, his saliva soaking the fabric. your jaw slacked and back arched against his mouth. chuckling, ben lightly bit at your nipple before letting his tongue graze over it. you whimpered, unintentionally grinding yourself against his hard body.

"look at you, sweetheart. look at how much you want this," he whispered. his hands kneaded your breasts while he studied you with lustful eyes. your eyes were squeezed shut, lips parted, and hands still slightly pushing his chest. you began to shake your head furiously, lips forming a pout before you start to sob.

"no, stop. i don't want this. p-please.."

"you want it. you want it real bad, princess. look at you, grinding against me so hard," he whispered into your ear sensually. his hand left your breast, and moved to cup your clothed cunt. granted, your pyjama shorts are as thin as your bralette, and of course, you're not wearing panties.

“let me show you what a real man feels like, yeah? you need this, baby.” your hips bucked at his words, receiving the smallest amount of friction against his hand. you moaned lowly, head pressing hard against the pillow beneath you.

ben bit his lip and slowly started to circle his fingers against your clothed clit. he admired how your lips parted, lewd moans and whimpers slipping out. he knew how much you needed this, how much you’ll thank him when he’s done. he knows you’ve never had sex, never even had a boyfriend before. how? the walls are thin, obviously.

ben’s fingers suddenly stopped, causing you to finally open your eyes. “please,” you whined. he simply chuckled. he swiftly switched their positions, having you straddle his one thigh with her chest against his. he reveled in the innocent, teary-eyed look you gave him—unsure, embarrassed, utterly aroused. as much as he wanted to rush it and use you dry, he decided to let you feel something to get you started. “have you ever touched yourself, sweetheart?”

your face immediately glowed red, eyes darting everywhere but to his. of course, you knew what touching yourself meant, how it would work, why people did it. but you had always been too academically focussed, shielded by family, or even too oblivious to have done such things. and by the time you were finally exposed to everything, it had felt too late, so you didn’t bother. but hearing the question come from ben felt shameful, you were unsure what the right answer would be. whether to lie or not.

ben waited a moment, two moments, before grabbing your throat. “i asked you a question, sweetheart.” you let out a struggled sigh and shook your head slowly. he grinned, and pulled your neck to lay a kiss on your forehead. of course, he was so glad you hadn’t. that you hasn’t been spoiled and was all for him to teach.

pulling off his shirt, he propped you on the middle of his thigh. he slightly moved your hips back and forth, showing you what it feels like. you let out a sigh, clearly liking the feeling. even without your noises, ben could feel your slick through the clothes that separate you both. “that feel good, huh? keep going,” he ordered.

you gave a hesitant nod before slowly grinding against his thigh. you let out a low groan, realizing how good it felt. you began to pick up the pace, humping on him like a dog in heat. your hands find their place on his chest to keep balance, and ben’s hands find their way to your breasts once again. he discards your bra, letting it join the discarded clothes on the ground. he snaked one hand around your back, pushing you harder on his thigh in an act of guidance. he slouched his back to bring your nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue against the now bare skin.

you let out a whimper, back arching into him, letting your hands tug at his hair. your hips roll on him desperately, feeling a knot in your stomach. “fuck! fuck! please, please daddy,” you moan. ben let out a growl at the name you’d given him, applying his thumb to press against your clit. “let it out, sweetheart, c’mon.” and that you do with eyes rolling back and mouth slacked open. your hips stutter but ben helps by stimulating your clit to help ride out your orgasm.

he doesn’t stop circling your clit, however, causing you to twitch and whimper. “p-please, s’t-too much!” your body curled up and try to push his hand away, but ben doesn’t let up. he bites your nipple, causing you to scream. your sobs make ben let out a laugh.

“please! p-please, stop, it h-hurts… i-i can’t take it!” your arms snaked around his neck in a hug, your cries loud in his ear. he revelled in it.

he leaves your cunt, and wraps his arms around your waist, attempting to soothe you. “you’re beautiful, so beautiful.”

you sniffle and pull back, staring into his eyes, faces mere inches apart. your doe-like eyes are tearful, with snot starting to leak down her nose, it was gross, but ben loved it.

“did I do good?” you whispered hesitantly.

he smiled, “so good, doll.” you mirrored his smile, “really?”

he breathed a laugh, taking your hand in his and guiding it to his clothed erection. he held your hand there as his other pushed the back of your head close. with his mouth to your ear, he whispered, “look what you do to me, sweetheart.” you gasped.

ben guided your hand up and down his girthy member, applying pressure to the fingers, letting you squeeze him. stifling a groan, he let go of your hand. he undressed himself entirely, allowing his throbbing erection free to slap against his lower stomach.

you studied his cock, mouth watering at the sight. it was huge, thick with veins bulging across it. his pubes were trimmed elegantly, making you wonder what he was preparing for? your stomach fluttered at the thought of you being the one he was expecting.

“touch it,” he murmured, slightly adjusting his hips into a more comfortable position. you whimpered as he moved, still sensitive clit gaining a small amount of friction. your legs tightly wrapped around his bare thigh, trying hardest not to move. you gave him a worried look, which he immediately understood. “it’s okay, just touch it, i’ll guide you,” he reassured.

you let out a shaky breath and nodded, smaller hands wrapping around his cock. not knowing what you were doing, you started twisting the skin, causing an uncomfortable groan to leave ben’s lips. he quickly grabbed your hands, causing you to panic. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry!”

ben was starting to lose his patience, but he tried his best to mask it. “it’s alright, sweetheart. just let me show you, yeah?” he held your hand in his as he wrapped them around his dick. slowly gathering his leaking pre-cum, he started to pump himself with your hand.

“like this, okay, doll? up and down. you understand?” he toyed. he squeezed your hand around him, pumping faster, more erratic. you nodded furiously, “yes, i understand. i want to make you feel good,” you said, eyes glued to his bright red tip that emerged every time your hand slid down. ben groaned, his head falling back, and his hand leaving yours. “go on then, help your dad out. you want to be my good girl, don’t you, sweetheart?”

you let out a moan, and began to pump his cock as he had taught you. “yes-yeah. i wanna be your good girl.” you grew determined to make him feel good, so you added another hand to pump him. ben smirked, snaking his free hand to squeeze your breasts. “yeah, doll. you’re so good, look how good you make me feel. such a good girl.”

your head spun from the constant praise and his hands kneading your perked tits. your hands slowed on his cock, before picking up the pace, going faster than ever.

“i want to cum in you, doll. so let’s save me for a bit, okay?” he cooed, pulling your hands off his shaft. you nodded. your mind has been nothing but hazy for the night, arousal clouding over your better judgement. the fact that this was her best friend’s father, lingered in the back of your mind. but you were too far gone, too drunk on the pleasures he brought.

ben swiftly sat up and pushed you against the bed on your back. he pulled apart your legs, though you had to stretch out more as he was so much more larger than you. you let out a whine as he pressed against your sensitive core.

he struggled to control himself as he saw your swollen, puffy cunt. it looked perfect, smelled perfect, too. your arousal leaked down between your cheeks, coated in a shiny gloss.

he decided to tease you, needing to break you fully. to ruin you. he sensually massaged your inner thigh, gliding his thumb so close to your needy cunt. “look at you, so dirty,” he whispered, “you need me so bad, say it. beg me to fuck you dry.” he blew a breath to your cunt, making you shiver and moan.

“p-please, i need you so bad. i need you in me so bad. please, i need this.” you begged.

without further warning, ben slammed into you, not being able to contain himself any longer. you let out a scream, back instinctively arching, chest pressing against his. you felt so full, so warm. it hurt, but you pushed through.

he let out a grunt, feeling your virgin cunt tight around him. he grabbed onto your throat, pulling you to meet his lips.

you roughly kissed—you mostly not knowing what you’re doing, but ben didn’t care. his tongue entered your mouth, assaulting yours. his hand around your throat made it hard to breathe, and you let out exasperated pants and whimpers.

leaving your mouth, he travelled down your neck to your perked nipples; he enveloped one with his mouth, and used his hand to play with the other. all while his thrusts continued to meet your hips, his cock basically abusing your cervix. you moaned wildly, back arching and legs squirming.

“so fucking good. you’re just a good fucking girl, aren’t you? You’re dad’s good girl, say it.”

your eyes rolled back, mouth dropping open as he began to rub his thumb over your throbbing clit. you began to buck your hips into him, the pleasure overwhelming. you needed release, to feel how you felt when you rode his thigh, but something told you this would be a much better orgasm.

ben’s teeth around your nipple snaps you back into reality. “t-that hurts!” he doesn’t give up, waiting for your words. he applied more pressure, revelling in the way you squirmed.

“please! im daddy’s good girl, i am!” you moan as the pain started to turn into pleasure. ben took note of it, chuckling against you. “look at you, so dirty. you’re so desperate for daddy, arent you? you close, doll? you wanna cum around your dad’s thick cock?”

you shut your eyes tight, drool leaking down the side of your mouth, snot dripping down your nose. “yes, please. i need to cum so bad. i’m so, so close!”

ben’s thrusts become animalistic, fucking you raw, so hard that he thinks there may be blood. his heavy balls slap against your ass, “you gonna milk me dry, sweetheart? milk me with that tight, virgin pussy? well… it’s not anymore,” he laughed.

you moaned, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him close. your bare chests flush against each other. “oh—fuck. it’s too much!”

your head fell back as your body jerked violently. you exploded around him with a scream. “fuck! oh, my god.”

your desperate cries and pulsing core pushed ben over the edge, his cock twitching in you before releasing ropes of hot seed. he pushed himself into you as far as he could go, wanting—no—needing to fill your womb. “fuck, sweetheart. you’re such a good fucking girl, sucking my cock in so hard, so greedy.”

he thrusted in a few more times, pushing his seed deeper in you, before pulling out. he watched your gaping hole as it clenched around nothing, some of his cum spilling out. he admired his work, watching your bruised cunt spasm.

he let out a chuckle, and leaned down to press his lips against your forehead. “you did so well, doll. such a good girl,” he whispered. he moved down and began to place kisses over your face. cheeks, nose, lips. he realized how tired and worn out you looked, eyes half-lidded as you fell in and out of consciousness. “rest up, little one, tomorrow i want to teach you something more exciting.”

You woke up to the faint smell of weed and whiskey and that damn cologne of his that clung to the sheets like a bad habit. The sheets, of course, were his, scratchy, should’ve been burned sometime after 1984, but you weren’t exactly in the position to complain. Especially not when Soldier Boy was draped across you like a smug, snoring furnace.

You shifted, groaning softly. Cramps twisted in your stomach like a knife, and the ache in your lower back reminded you of what the day was about to be: hell. Bloody, hormonal hell.

And of course, as if summoned by the suffering itself, Ben cracked an eye open. “Shit”, he muttered, voice still thick from sleep. “You makin’ that noise all night, sweetheart, or just savin’ it for when I’m tryin’ to sleep?”.

You rolled your eyes, nudging him off your hip. “Sorry I’m not silent and dead like your exes”.

He grinned a wicked, shit-eating grin that always spelled trouble. “Oh, so you do admit it… You’re bleedin’, huh?”, he asked, sitting up and raking a hand through his mess of hair. “Could smell it last night. Thought maybe you’d just killed someone in my bed. Would’ve been hot”.

You grabbed a pillow and lobbed it at him. “Asshole”.

“Guilty”, he said proudly, catching it mid-air and tossing it aside. “You know, back in the ‘80s, girls didn’t get all weepy on their periods. They just popped a Quaalude and fucking danced it off”.

“Yeah, and back in the ‘80s you still thought Russia was winning the war”, you muttered, curling into a ball. That got a bark of laughter from him.

“Ah fuck, I love it when you’re a little shit”, he said, reaching over and yanking the blanket off you. “Look at you. All curled up, cranky, hormonal. Like a puppy someone kicked”.

You glared at him. “Keep talking and I’ll kick you”.

“Ooh. Fiery. You sure you don’t wanna cry about it first?”, he teased, leaning in just close enough that his breath warmed your cheek. “Come on, doll. Where’s the part where you get all misty-eyed and ask me to rub your back while you sob over some video on your phone?”.

You shoved him again, and he caught your wrist mid-push, his grip firm but warm. Something in his expression softened for a second, just a flicker. “You hurting?”, he asked, quieter this time.

You hesitated. “…Yeah. A little”.

He let your hand go and flopped back onto the bed, throwing an arm behind his head. “Well, shit. Guess I gotta be nice now”, he muttered. “Go ahead. Snuggle up, break my ribs with your heat pad, cry about cats or whatever”.

You stared at him. “You done mocking me?”.

“Sweetheart”, he smirked, “mocking you is my cardio. You’re like a little walking PSA for why women shouldn’t be in combat. All moody, bleeding, curled up like a busted-up MRE. Cute, but useless”.

You shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. “Wow. Misogyny before breakfast. How very on brand”.

“Please”, he scoffed. “It’s not misogyny if it’s true. Hell, if you were in Payback back in the day, I’d have had to carry you around like a baby in one of those pussy-like kangaroo pouches”.

You opened your mouth to snap back, but before you could, he reached over and hooked a hand under your thigh, yanking you toward him so you were practically sprawled across his lap.

“Hey!”, you protested.

“What? I’m bein’ sweet”, he said, feigning innocence while his thumb rubbed slow, lazy circles just above your knee. “Figure I’ll keep you close before you waddle off and start nesting or whatever the hell it is you ladies do on your time of the month”.

You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but his hand was firm on your thigh, rough palm sliding higher with lazy confidence. “Don’t start”, you warned, glaring at him. “Not while I’m like this”.

“Like what?”, he asked as his fingers ghosted just below the hem of your sleep shorts. “Warm? Whiny? Bleedin’ like you got knifed in a bar fight?”.

You shot him a warning look. “Ben…”.

That grin. That filthy, knowing grin that had no business looking good at 7 a.m. “What? I’m just sayin’, sweetheart — I’ve seen worse. Hell, I’ve been worse”. He leaned in, his voice dropping low against your ear. "Honey, I’ve had brains and guts on me. Little uterus juice ain’t exactly my breaking point".

You groaned, pressing a hand to your face. “That’s disgusting”.

He laughed. “I’ve had my dick shot half to hell and still fucked after. Little period gore’s not exactly a mood killer".

“Ben, no”.

“Ben, yes”, he smirked, dragging your leg higher over his thigh until your core was pressed to the thick line of muscle. “Come on. You’re soft, warm, cranky — it’s kinda hot”.

You stared at him like he’d lost his damn mind. “It’s not hot. It’s gross. I’m literally bleeding. It’s not sexy, Ben”.

He tilted his head, genuinely confused. “Why? You think I haven’t been with a girl on her period before? Shit, back in the seventies, girls didn’t even tell you, you just figured it out halfway through”.

“That’s vile”.

“That’s history, doll”, he said proudly, brushing his nose along your jaw. “And I got no issue gettin’ a little red on my dick. Call it patriotism”.

You snorted. “Oh my god”.

He grinned, the bastard. “Look, I’m not sayin’ we go full Slip ‘n Slide, but don’t act like you don’t want it. You get all moody and touchy when you’re like this. Sensitive… Hot”.

“I’m bloated and irritated and my uterus is actively trying to kill me”.

Ben’s hand moved up, brushing gently under your tank top, warm and surprisingly tender against your skin. “Yeah, and you’re still the prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve laid eyes on since disco died”.

Your breath hitched. Damn him. Damn his hands, his mouth, and that voice.

“You’re seriously trying to get in my pants right now?”, you asked, voice half incredulous, half breathless.

He looked down at you, so damnn calm. “I’m tryin’ to make my girl feel better. Problem?”.

You hesitated. He smirked like he already had you beat. “That’s what I thought. Let me take care of you, baby. Ain’t scared of a little mess”.

You swallowed hard, cursing the way your body responded despite your brain screaming this was ridiculous. “Fine”, you muttered. “But no jokes. No war metaphors. No calling it ‘shark week’”.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear with a low growl of a promise. “No jokes”, he murmured, his voice hot and honey-thick. “Just you, me, and a bed that’s gonna need burnin’ after”.

Before you could fire off another protest, Ben’s hand pressed flat to your shoulder, pushing you gently but firmly onto your back. “Ben—”.

“Shh”, he drawled, settling between your legs, sitting back on his heels like he had all the time in the world. His hands gripped your thighs through the thin fabric of your shorts, thumbs stroking lazily against your skin. “Shit, I missed this view. Pretty little thing laid out just for me”.

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not ‘laid out’—”.

“Yeah, you are”, he smirked, leaning in just enough for his breath to tickle your skin before he sat back again. “And you’re lucky I’m in a generous mood”.

With a slow, deliberate tug, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and underwear, dragging them down over your hips. The movement was unhurried, almost reverent, until the fabric slid past the tops of your thighs and your bare skin met the cooler air.

His eyes flicked down, and that wolfish grin of his spread wide. “Well”, he said, tilting his head like he was admiring a battlefield. “There’s my girl. Bleedin’ for me”.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “You’re disgusting”.

“Yeah”, he agreed shamelessly, tossing your clothes aside. “And you’re warm. Fuck, I love that about you humans. All that heat on the inside. Supes don’t got it the same — cold, sterile, like screwin’ a fucking refrigerator. But you…”. He ran one big, calloused hand up your thigh, slow as a match burn. “You’re all soft and alive and hot in here. Can feel it in my bones when I’m inside you”.

Your cheeks burned, and you hated that his words made something low in your stomach tighten despite the cramps. “Maybe we shoul-”.

“What?”. His thumb brushed over the tender inside of your thigh, and his gaze was fixed between your legs. “C'mon now. It’s just you. My girl. My mess”. He leaned forward, palms braced on either side of your hips, lowering himself enough that the heat of him pressed against you. “And I’m gonna enjoy every damn second of it”.

You could feel him, hard, thick, pressing against your inner thigh like he’d been waiting days for this.

Ben reached down, wrapped a firm hand around himself, and pressed the head of his cock down with his thumb, guiding it with that casual, practiced control that made your breath hitch.

“Look at that”, he murmured, eyes dragging down between your thighs like he was admiring a loaded weapon. “Standin’ at attention so goddamn perfect".

You clenched around nothing, cursing him in your head and yourself for the way your body responded to his voice alone.

“Gonna slide in nice and slow”, he muttered, almost to himself, his hips shifting forward, the thick head of him nudging where you needed him most. “Feel every inch of you stretch around me”.

Your breath caught as he pushed in just a little, not enough to satisfy, just enough to tease. His jaw flexed.

“Fuck, you’re hot”, he groaned, eyes half-lidded. “Like a goddamn furnace in there. I swear, it’s not even fair".

You turned your face away, too flustered to meet his gaze, but he caught your chin in his hand and turned you back to face him. “Uh-uh. Eyes on me, sugarplum”, he said, voice low. “I want you to feel every fuckin’ inch. Want you to remember who does this to you, who makes you forget the pain and all that shit. It’s me… Say it”.

Your lips parted, the words stuck in your throat, half from shame, half from how deep the need clawed inside you.

He pushed in another inch, slowly, relentlessly, and you gasped. “Who is it, baby?”, he whispered against your ear, voice suddenly softer. “Who makes you feel like this?”.

“…You”, you breathed, almost involuntarily.

“Damn right”, he growled, and with one hard roll of his hips, he sank in deeper, not all the way, just enough to make your back arch and your fingers curl into the sheets. “Now relax. I’m not stoppin’ ‘til you forget what you were even cryin’ about”.

Ben eased back, and you caught the way his eyes flicked down between you, that smug grin stretching slow across his face.

“Now ain’t that some wholesome American shit”, he drawled, his voice thick with amusement. “White sheets, blue fuckin’ veins, and red all over the place. Damn near deserves a national anthem, sweetheart”.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Ben…”.

“What? You’re makin’ me festive”, he smirked. “Feels like I should be salutin’ right now“.

Before you could come up with a proper insult, Ben’s smirk deepened and his hands locked hard on your hips. “C’mere, doll”.

You barely had time to gasp before he drove back in with one rough, uncalculated thrust, too deep, too fast. The breath ripped out of you, your hands flying to his chest in reflex. “Ben!”. The sound came out sharper than you meant, pain flaring low in your stomach.

He froze, eyes narrowing instantly. “Shit”. His grip loosened, but he didn’t pull out, his expression shifting from cocky to something dangerously close to sheepish. “Too much?”.

You glared at him through the sting. “You think?”.

He blew out a breath, muttering under it, “Damn it… ". He eased his weight off you, hands gentler now as they rubbed over your hips in slow circles. “Got carried away”.

You gave him a look that said You always get carried away.

“Hey”, he said, softer now, searching your face. “Talk to me. You good, or you want me to stop?”.

The cocky mask hadn’t dropped entirely, this was still Soldier Boy, after all, but there was a tightness in his jaw, like he was forcing himself to hold back.

“Hurts”, you admitted, your voice smaller than you meant it to be.

“Alright”, he murmured, brushing his thumb over your hip bone. “We go slow. My bad”. Then, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth again. “Still, you took damn near all of me in one go. Not bad for someone who’s supposedly delicate”.

You swatted weakly at his shoulder. “Benjamin—”.

“Yeah, yeah”, he said, bending to press his mouth against your temple. “Easy now. I’ll make it worth it”.

His hands adjusted their grip on your hips, not to pull or control this time, but to keep you steady. He moved slowly, painfully slowly for him, watching your face for the smallest flinch. It was almost… adorable. And painfully Ben. Always overcompensating.

“You’re gonna burn a hole in me if you keep staring like that”, you said softly, trying to take the edge off.

“Not takin’ chances”, he muttered without looking away.

You reached up and brushed your fingers over the rough stubble on his jaw. “I’m okay, Ben. Just a bit sensitive right now. You’re good”.

His eyes flicked up to yours briefly, searching, like he didn’t entirely believe you. “Yeah?”.

“Yeah”, you assured, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re being… weirdly careful. Kinda sweet, actually. Don’t tell anyone, though. Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation”.

That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t drop the focus. “Just… tell me if it’s too much”.

“I will”, you promised, letting your hand trail to the back of his neck, feeling the tension there.

He gave a slow nod, then eased forward again, still watching you like a hawk, less the cocky supe now, more the man who, despite himself, didn’t want to break what was his.

It struck you then… the last time he’d been this careful was months ago, the night he took your virginity. Back then, his hands had been steady but unsure, his mouth still mouthing off between moments of surprising gentleness. You’d almost thought you imagined it afterward, that tenderness, because it hadn’t shown up again.

Until now.

Seeing it again, feeling it, did something to you.

Ben wasn’t the kind of man to hold back for anyone. He was all sharp edges, bad habits and a mouth that got him into more trouble than even he could shoot his way out of. But right now, those edges were softened, his hands warm and grounding instead of demanding, his eyes scanning your face like he was taking inventory of every breath, every twitch, every flicker of discomfort.

It made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t been prepared for.

You’d fallen for him before, in pieces. In the smirk that made you want to punch him, in the way he carried himself like the world still owed him a parade, in the heat of his presence when he wanted something. But this? This was different. This was rare. And it was yours.

Your throat tightened, and you reached up, curling your fingers into the hair at the back of his head. He glanced down at you, that mission-focus still in his eyes. “What?”, he asked.

“Nothing”, you said, shaking your head with a small smile. “Just… don’t stop”.

Something flickered in his expression, not quite a smile, but close, before he leaned in, brushing his mouth over your temple, and kept moving slow. Every shift of his body was deliberate and measured, like he was proving he could be careful when it mattered.

And you realized, right there, that this man — this brash, infuriating, larger-than-life man — had just made you fall for him all over again.

Every slow movement, every careful shift of his weight, every look he gave you like you were something worth guarding, it built higher and hotter than you expected. It wasn’t just your body reacting; it was everything else, too. The months of brashness, the constant teasing, all balanced now by this one rare, steady tenderness.

It was too much. Your breath caught, your fingers tightening in his hair. “Ben—”.

He looked down at you, still moving with that same deliberate control, but his eyes sharpened at your tone. “You there, doll?”.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, the heat cresting all at once, sudden and overwhelming. It rolled through you in seconds, your whole body tensing and shuddering beneath him.

The sound that tore out of you was almost a sob, sharp, unsteady, too honest to hold back. You felt yourself shaking, every nerve lit up at once, and when you opened your eyes again, his were already locked on yours. They widened, just a fraction, like you’d done something he hadn’t prepared for. That unguarded flicker, surprise, maybe even a little awe, was enough to knock the air out of both of you.

His breath hitched, the careful rhythm faltering as his grip on your hips tightened. “Ah, shit…”, he muttered, voice rough, like he’d just realized too late that you were pulling him over the edge with you. His whole body tensed above you, his weight sinking into you as he let go. The sharp inhale he took was ragged, almost matching your own.

He stayed there, braced but close, his forehead dipping to rest against yours. His breathing was uneven and his chest was rising and falling against you.

“…Didn’t see that comin’”, he admitted after a beat, his voice low and unsteady in a way you’d never heard before. You smiled faintly, still catching your breath. “Me neither”.

He didn’t move right away. Usually, Ben was quick to roll off, crack a joke, or wander off like nothing happened, but not this time. His weight stayed over you, his forehead still pressed to yours like he was catching his breath and… maybe not ready to let go yet.

You felt the slow thud of his heartbeat against your chest, the warmth of him sinking into you. His hand slid from your hip to your side, resting there like it belonged.

“You’re heavy”, you murmured, though you made no move to push him off.

“Deal with it”, he muttered, the words automatic, but the edge was gone from his voice.

You smiled, your fingers drifting up into his hair, brushing it back from his face. “You’re… different”, you murmured, your fingertips tracing through his hair.

His eyes stayed half-lidded, watching you. “Don’t get used to it”, he said, but there was no bite in the words.

You shifted under him slightly, realizing something. “Huh”.

“What?”, he asked.

“No cramps anymore”, you whispered, almost surprised.

That cocky grin started to tug at his mouth again. “So what you’re sayin’ is… I’m better than painkillers”.

You rolled your eyes but leaned up anyway, brushing your lips against his in a soft kiss. It lingered, slow and unhurried, before you pulled back just enough to see the faint smirk still playing on his face. “Guess you’ve got your uses”, you teased.

“Guess?”, he echoed, feigning offense. “Baby, I just cured your uterus. That’s Nobel Prize material”.

You laughed, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “Yeah, I’ll put in the nomination tomorrow”.

He finally rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you ended up tucked against his chest. His arm stayed draped around you. “Good”, he murmured into your hair. “Means I don’t have to go far for my next miracle”.

-

Later that day, Hughie was halfway through a sandwich, when Ben strolled in, looking smug in that I-just-got-away-with-something kind of way. Butcher was at the table cleaning a gun, already narrowing his eyes. “What’s with the shit-eating grin, grandpa?”.

Ben dropped into the chair across from them, leaning back with his arms spread. “Just came from my girl. She’s on the rag—”

“For fuck´s sake”, Butcher muttered. “Here we fuckin’ go”.

Hughie froze mid-bite. “Uh… do we really need to hear—”.

"Yes, you do”, Ben shot back, pointing at him like a drill sergeant. “This is educational. Girl’s laid up in bed, cramps kickin’ her ass, barely able to move. So I step in, handle business like a gentleman, and suddenly?”. He snapped his fingers. “Fuckin´ miracle recovery”.

Hughie blinked. “I’m scared to ask what ‘handle business’ means”.

Ben grinned. “Kid, you ever been inside a woman when she’s runnin’ that hot? Feels like your dick just got drafted”.

“Alright, that’s enough”, Butcher snapped, jamming the cleaning rag through the barrel of his gun hard enough to nearly bend the rod.

“No, no, hear me out”, Ben went on, waving a hand. “Humans already run warm, right? But when they’re on their period?”. He pointed like he was explaining combat strategy. “Whole different operation. Like somebody lit a goddamn furnace in there”.

Hughie dropped his sandwich onto the table, looking like he was rethinking all his life choices. “I am begging you to stop talking”.

Butcher shot Ben a look full of exhaustion. “You done traumatizing the children?”.

Ben leaned back in his chair, smug as hell. “Just wanted you assholes to know you’re in the presence of a fucking healer”.

Butcher rolled his eyes. “More like a filthy old perv”.

Ben just grinned wider. “Call it what you want, pal. I call it service to my country”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think. It’s one of my all-time favorites🥰)

-

“Look at ‘ya,” Ben grunts, watching you grind down on his lap, little skirt riding up your thighs as you rotate your hips. He had your legs bracketing his thighs, big hands rubbing your soft skin. A wicked smile adorns his lips. Ben’s eyes are narrow slits, green eyes swirling with hunger. “Little fuckin’ patriot.”

Ben was sitting propped up against a lawn chair in your backyard. His long legs were stretched straight out, boots planted firmly on the ground. Spurts of colors painted phantasmagoric images across the night sky, the booming sounds of fireworks ricocheting off the Earth. The lights bathed Ben’s face in red and blue shadows. He looked in his element– America’s colors bouncing off his skin. 

It was the 4th of July- a holiday that Ben took seriously. He’d spent the day telling Hughie and Butcher stories from war and what the trenches were like. He recounted how he’d filled a commie with lead, only stopping when the magazine of his gun was empty. He lounged around on the couch and snapped at Butcher whenever he asked him to do something– using the excuse of how he fought for the country to be free. It was another Veterans day for him. 

Ben nodded as your hands pawed at his chest, whimpering his name softly. “Please.. Ben, please.” Need had pooled between your legs, leaving a wet patch on his sweatpants right over his crotch. 

His hand left your thigh to grab the bottle of beer sat next to him, hand gripping the neck of the bottle. He took a leisurely swig. Grinned when you ground your clothed pussy down onto the outline of his cock. He watched how you withered over him, hips bucking and twitching. 

“Ready to thank me, baby?” He asked, setting his beer back down. His eyes glanced down at your figure, holding a sort of power in his gaze that never failed to make you shiver. “Fought for this fuckin’ country. Deserve some fuckin’ gratefulness for slaughtering them fuckin’ commies.” 

Ben’s hand bunches up your jean skirt, thumb rubbing your clit through your panties. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you. A whimper falls past your lips, feeling yourself flutter and clench around nothing. When you nod, hips jerking as you chase for friction, Ben coos softly. 

He helps you get his cock free from his sweats, pulling it from the slit in the front. You made a mental note to thank whatever high up above for him being allergic to wearing underwear. His cock is large in your hands, thick and heavy. The crown is flushed a deep shade of pink, twitching as you stroke up the length.

Like you were staring down at your favorite food, you felt your mouth water at the sight of it. You knew what would come next. You knew the delicious stretch of your cunt around him would feel like heaven. Every nerve inside your body felt frayed, anticipation bubbling through your veins and clouding your mind.

Ben leans back and grabs his beer, looking down at you without another word. His gaze is predatorial as he watches you peel your panties to the side. He brings the bottle to his lips as you line him up to your entrance, taking a long swig as you sink down on him. 

“That’s it, jus’ like that. Bounce on that cock.” His words are slow as he watches you find a rhythm, hips rising and falling and rolling around him. “Earnin’ those stripes, huh slut?”

If you thought Ben was big in your hand, the looks of him was an extreme understatement to him inside you. He stretched your cunt out, thick length splitting you open. Just sitting on him, filled up to the brim, the tip of his cock was kissing your cervix. Your walls clenched around him, the stretch bordering on painful. But every inch felt like magic as he nudged himself further inside. 

“Fuck! Ben.. so full.” You mumbled your words as your hips rocked, starting a sloppy rhythm. Your eyes had fluttered shut, focusing only on the immense pleasure each glide of his cock in your cunt brought exploding through your nerves. 

Ben’s grunting is barely heard over the clamoring of crackles and booms coming from the sky. His free hand slithers behind your back to slap your ass each time you sink down. It’s not a little love tap– it’s a cracking smack that is sure to leave a handprint on your asscheek.

A mewl leaves your lips as you slip and slide on his cock, chasing after that sweet release. Ben laughs as he watches you try and fail to keep up with the tempo. He watches with faux sympathy before he slams his hips up, length pistoning into you. 

His pace is wild. Animalistic. He lets his now empty beer bottle clatter to the ground, hands gripping knot your hips. His hands ignite a fire in your skin, burning all the way down to your bones. He guides you forcefully until you’re babbling and your body goes limp.

“Fuckin’ perfect little pussy.” His voice is rough like gravel, shooting fireworks of pleasure rattling your ears. His grasp is bruising, skin tingling as he slams your hips down against his. “squeezin’ me s’well. shit, I’d fight another million fuckin’ commies just to feel this cunt ‘gain.”

The coil in your abdomen feels tightened, every stroke of his length hurdling you closer to the edge. Every ridge and vein of his cock was indented into your cunt, absolutely ruining you for anyone else. This moment— when Ben’s watching your greedy pussy welcome his cock every time he rutted his hips up into you— was better than winning a damn war. 

“Rub that fuckin’ clit, doll.” The command fell from his lips easily, voice smooth as whiskey. “Fuckin’ cum on my cock, you little cockslut.”

Your fingers trembled as they found their place nestled between your folds, rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your eyes fluttered closed. Just focusing on how good everything felt. 

You came in tandem with the last boom from the fireworks show, light exploding in the sky as light exploded behind your eyes. It was messy— cunt dripping down the length of him. Walls squeezing him so tight he shot up into you, his mark painting your cervix. 

“Happy fuckin’ Independence Day.” He groaned, cock twitching inside of you. 

Your body slumped against him, chest heaving as you crashed down from your high. Every light seemed brighter, every crackle louder, and every pass of Ben’s hand up and down your back had you shivering. 

This 4th of July would be one for the books. 

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