#reader x hellboy

It had only been a few days since you’d been more or less suspended from active duty, left to ride a desk until your arm healed, and already the boredom was setting in, leaving you feeling listless and more than a little stir-crazy. 

You wouldn’t mind a little company. Wouldn’t mind Red’s company, in fact. Not that you’ll give him the satisfaction of confirming that thought aloud - it would go straight to the brash demon’s head, you knew. 

He already seemed far too smug for your liking, no doubt enjoying the looks the other agents were sending the two of you before quickly dispersing from your path.  

As he takes a swift left, the corridors quickly growing more deserted, you shoot him a knowing glance that does little to break his stride. “This isn’t the way to my room, Hellboy.”

Hellboy hums thoughtfully. “Isn’t it?” 

You huff a laugh. “Red - “

“Alright, alright.” He shoots you a glance, though there’s little guilt to be found there even after getting caught in a ruse. “Your place is too cramped for me and somebody needs to keep an eye on you. The way I see it, I’m killin’ two birds with one stone.”

Your face warms. From anyone else, you’d take the words as a jab against your competence, but from Hellboy, you knew them for what they really were. Concern.

“And that somebody has to be you, I take it?” you tease him, only to be met by the slanted smirk you publicly bristle at but secretly love so much. 

“Damn straight, sweetheart,” he gruffs, hefting you further into his arms. You hide your smile against his chest, and hold on for the ride. 

*

The clock ticks over from 11:59 to midnight. You idly turn a page in your book, trying to focus on the next passage, but it’s a lost cause with Hellboy tucked between your legs, hands wrapped loosely around your thighs and squeezing in time with your breaths.

You glance up, and that’s when you see it - Hellboy watching you, his eyes - usually blazing with bravado or cocky surety - dark with concern. Worry, for you.

He had hovered over you all night, making certain that you didn’t lift a finger unless absolutely necessary, and lingering over your shoulder even then. You found it sweet, if a little overbearing, how dearly he seemed to need the reassurance that you were alright. You knew you would be in the same position - had been in the same position - if the demon were injured.

“Red,” you murmur, drawing those yellow eyes to yours. Your lips curl into a gentle smile, book forgotten on your chest. “It’s just a broken arm.”

“I know,” Hellboy assures you, though his attempt at nonchalance is ruined by the firming of his grip around your thighs. “Coulda been worse,” he adds, almost as an afterthought, but the expression on his face betrays how often the thought must have crossed his mind.

“Coulda been,” you agree, because you both know the risks involved in the work you do. You reach up to touch his jaw with your uninjured hand, fingertips grazing his skin. “Come here.”

It’s all the coaxing Hellboy needs, and your sigh as his chest settles against yours is a deep one. He’s careful not to crush you or touch your injured arm, just as you knew he’d be, and you smile. “See?” you tease gently, palm warm against his chiseled jaw. “All good. All in one piece.”

“Says you,” Hellboy grunts, slumping into your hold, tail twining around your calf. The grip around your thighs never falters, both his human and stone hand wrapped securely around you, alternating between squeezing your flesh and sinking rough, red fingertips into your skin. It soothes him, to have his hands full of you, to feel for himself the truth of your existence, the warm give of your skin, the soft catch of your breath. Soothes you, too. 

“Don’t believe me?” You push lightly against his hold, letting him feel the heat of you, the firmness and pressure of warm, living flesh. Watching his eyes go dark and hearing the sharp breath that hisses through his teeth kicks your own pulse up a notch. 

“You tryin’ to start something?” There’s a deliberate nonchalance to his voice, but it’s ruined by the way his fingers twitch against your thighs and his tail winds just a little tighter around your calf. 

“It has been a while,” you tease him. A necessary evil, back when you’d first gotten injured, and certainly not helped by Red’s stubborn refusal to engage in any activity that might threaten your recovery. 

Hellboy huffs, gently knocking your forehead with his. “Don’t want to hurt ya,” he admits, his tail squeezing at your thigh. He can’t quite meet your eye when he says it, not until you wrap your hand around his jaw and guide his gaze to yours. 

He’s always been better at doing rather than saying, his brash attitude a smokescreen that he tends to hide behind when any sort of deep emotion comes into play. 

Easier to hide behind cocksure remarks and pithy jokes when your heart’s on the line, you think fondly. 

But there’s no denying the depth of his feelings here, not with that tender, aching expression on his face, the desire darkening his eyes to a smoky amber. 

“We’ll go slow,” you tell him, and the smoke in his eyes sparks into a flame. You wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, feeling the chords flex as you pull him closer, sharing breath. “Yeah?”

Hellboy shudders, his chest hitching against yours, and pushes a hard kiss to the corner of your mouth. His breath huffs through his teeth, eyes squeezing shut for a short, sharp moment before they open again in search of yours. In the dim glow of his television screens, his gaze seems to burn. “Yeah.” 

It’s easy, then, easy to allow Hellboy to press you down into the mattress, mouth hot against yours and heavy palms slipping beneath your shirt, easing it over your chest and free of your shoulders. Your sleep pants and underwear follow, until you’re left nude, legs shuffling restlessly along the mattress.

“You too,” you mumble, and Hellboy smirks as he reaches for the zip of his leather pants. You help him with what little coordination remains to you with only one working arm, and then you’re both finally, blessedly bare. 

Hellboy’s cock stands at stiff attention, a bead of precome already wetting the tip and as scorchingly red as the rest of him. You curl eager fingers around the base and nearly weep at the familiar, heavy weight of him, dragging the circle of your fist up the length and spreading slick on your way back down.

“Fuck,” Red rumbles, yellow eyes burning. He ruts shallowly into your palm once, twice, three times before he forces his hips to still and gently tugs your hand away from his length, reaching for a pillow to tuck beneath your hips.

Your breath catches, knowing what’s coming, and before his head disappears between your thighs, you catch the cocky curl of Hellboy’s lips, knowing he heard your reaction and is relishing in it. 

You’re glad Hellboy’s room is so far removed from the rest of the Bureau, if only because it’s impossible to muffle your moans as Hellboy works you open, first with his tongue, dragging achingly slow along your entrance, and then with lube-slick fingers, easing between your legs and pressing inside until you’re fit to bursting, burning, aching, and so full.

And then he’s tugging you up and into his arms, wrapping a heavy stone hand around your hip to help guide you onto his length. You hiss as the tip bumps against your entrance, leaking precome and burning hot, and then beginning the arduous task of easing inside.

Your gasp of pleasure coincides with Hellboy’s rumbling groan as you sink onto his cock, inch after inch disappearing within soft, snug heat. You’ll never grow used to the fullness, you think dazedly, or the ache, and you keen softly when Hellboy finally bottoms out, the length of his cock fully encased within you, his hands squeezing at your hips in time with the pulse of his heart. 

“Red.” His name is little more than a moan on your tongue. You hook your good arm around his neck, the other tucked protectively between your chests, and press a desperate kiss to his jaw, his chin, his mouth. “Oh god, Red - “

“I know, I know.” His human hand cups the back of your head, his tongue swiping at the swell of your lips, kissing you deep. “I’ve gotcha, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha.”

His stone hand guides your hips, easing you up along the length of his cock before gently tugging you back down. You cry out at the drag of it, the heat of it, the girth of it, and dig your fingers into the corded length of his neck for purchase.

He keeps his thrusts slow, falling into an aching rhythm that is all at once too much and not enough. Your lips meet in almost lazy kisses, unhurried but deep, and the brash demon curses softly whenever you take it upon yourself to drag your teeth along his bottom lip.

His stone hand spans the length of your back, rough but gloriously warm whenever it strokes along your spine or wraps around the curve of your hip. You feel the flex of his thighs as he thrusts up into you, the thick muscle bunching and extending with each slow drag of his cock inside you. 

You want him to cum in you. The thought hits you like a gut punch, driving the air from your lungs and making each kiss after a desperate, clawing thing. 

“Inside,” you gasp, driving your hips harder into every thrust, the slick slap of skin against skin beginning to fill the room. Already your core is throbbing, your body creeping closer to the edge. You press your lips to Hellboy’s jaw and beg him to, “Cum inside me, Red - “

“Fuck!” It’s nearly a shout, and then Hellboy’s eyes are blazing, both of his hands wrapping around your hips and his thrusts becoming harder, faster.

You keen, the air filling with the slick sounds of your joining and the smell of sex, and soon after, the garbled cry of release, ripping first from your throat and then from the demon driving into you so fervently.

You slump against Hellboy’s chest in the aftermath, limbs useless and limp, your cheek smushed against his collarbone. 

“You arm?” His voice is barely more than a rumble, and you tilt your head against his shoulder, a sweet and sated smile curling your lips.

“I don’t think he understood us,” One of the kids said. Their accent was thick and heavy, almost too much for Hellboy to make out the words. “He seemed terrified when we told him we didn’t want to hurt him.”

Damned rookies. HellBoy had thought to himself. “Did he do anything else? Shoot at the nest? Make a call?” 

The creatures all shook their heads. The mother clutched her young-lings, soothing the smallest one as it sniffled quietly.  “The Human left in a hurry. But he didn’t get far.” The mother said. “Our neighbour heard the commotion and ran over. She took him away.”

Hellboy knew exactly who “she” was. He had hoped that she wouldn’t be involved. But she could smell trouble from a mile away. Especially if it was B.P.R.D. business. And she did love sticking her nose into B.P.R.D trouble. 

“She’s a witch, but we promise she didn’t hurt the Human!” The creature was quick to reassure Hellboy. He chuckled softly and waved his hand as a dismissal to their worries. 

“I know her. Don’t worry, she’s not in trouble. But the agent surely will be.” Hellboy assured them. Slurping down another bowl of stew the elderly creature handed him. The beasts only saw the agent once after that, when he came grovelling to them begging for their forgiveness and helping them clean up around their nest. But when he was done, he disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke. 

HellBoy would have to report the witch’s involvement. Thankfully the agency didn’t need her description or ID.  She was the only witch in town. And she was high on the “keep an eye on” list. But only because she’s more than once beaten some sense into some agents about non-human safety and information. She was the boogeyman seasoned agents told rookies about. 

The only thing was, her home was a bastard to find. Since she teleported around the city and barely let anyone inside. 

“I’m cautious,” She would say whenever HellBoy complained about it. 

“No, you’re a pain in the ass.” HellBoy would always reply. But he knew this world wasn’t exactly nice to magic users. He mostly just complained to be an annoyance. 

But this time, finding the moving house wasn’t as hard. It was nestled between two trees in the city’s larger parks. Protected and made invisible by magic. HellBoy would have liked to say he did a lot of really good detective work to find it. But in reality, he just dialled her emergency number and waited for her to pick up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You left the stove on to simmer. Turning down the heat just a smidge so it didn’t boil over or start hissing angrily.  Your phone sat on the agent’s knee. Just where you left it; along with the threat of if he kept moving and dropped your phone on the tiled floor, you’d hex him.  A simple, vague but very open threat. 

The agent watched your every move as you approached. Flinching a little as you scooped up the phone and answered with a sing-song:  “Red! What’s up, Horny Boy.” 

“You know, the usual. Detective work. Search and rescue.” Hellboy replied. Keeping to the shadows of the buildings. But he really couldn’t avoid the people in the area as he crossed the street into the park. 

“Ah, so the Bureau finally realised it’s missing an idiot.” Your voice turned bitter at the words. Setting your gaze on the bound up man on your couch. He hadn’t moved in some time, but you had the chains around his ankles and wrists for that.

“Dad noticed the lack of stupid questions. You haven’t hurt him have you?” HellBoy asked. Ignoring the stares and side glances he attracted from the civilians who were using the park. Even with his hood up, people could see the obvious vast red chest poking through his jacket.  He wasn’t exactly subtle.

You snorted softly, an obvious irritated tone layering your voice. “I wish I could! He almost killed children, Red! He’s lucky it was me who found him. Or else we wouldn’t be talking about him.” 

“But instead you made him scrub a monsters nest and beg for his life.” HellBoy said with a grin. He adored how fired up you got about the people in his father’s agency. It was always a good show whenever you were called in to help HellBoy out with something. The venom between you and Professor Bruttenholm would make a dragon keel over and die. 

“I didn’t make him beg for his life... though that would have been satisfying.” You admitted and HellBoy laughed. Stepping though the sigil’s protective circle around your house, he waited by your door as he heard the room inside shift and change. 

Once your circle detected Hellboy’s presence, you left the large singular room that held the agent and stepped into an elevator. Once the silver gates were shut, it began to glide upwards. There was no grinding of metal or the screech of gears. Just the gentle, tell-tale tingle of magic wafting from your hands. It carried you up from the basement of your home to the front door.  The house itself was just a decoy. Something to keep intruders from getting to close to your actual home deep below.  A death-trap was a fine name for your the first floor. 

When the elevator came to a halt behind the front door, you hung up the phone and swung it open. Hellboy had just reached the house. Fist raised to knock.  He carried on the conversation as he stepped into the elevator next to you.

“Dad wouldn’t like this guy to be harmed, so is he badly injured from the kids or no?” HellBoy asked, having to duck his head to fit through the doorway. You shook your head. Replying as the gates closed behind him and the elevator started to sink into the floor.

“He wasn’t injured. A few bruises but that was his own fault. He fell down a flight of stairs when he was running away.” You explained and HellBoy couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“He’s new.” He told you. 

“I can tell.” You replied with a sour tone. Crossing your arms over your chest in an act of showing your irritation. But you chatted on the way down. It had been a few months since you and HellBoy got to talk without the Bureau breathing down your necks.  The last time you two talked was after you were hired to fight a coven of child-eating witches. It had been messy, and caused a small existential crisis in you. But it was for the greater good.  You may not get along with the Professor, but you two at least agreed that there were monsters that needed to be put down. And the Human race needed to be kept safe.  Even if you had to kill your own kind and witness horrific things; it needed to be done.

As the elevator came to a stop, the room opened up into the large basement. It didn’t look like any witch hovel, but that was one of the things HellBoy liked about you.  You were powerful, sure. But you kept to the modern times. Things were kept in jars, tinted so he couldn’t see the contents, but everything had a label. And mostly everything was inside fridges or hot boxes to keep fresh.  You had tvs and gaming consoles. A few computer monitors set up to keep an eye around your home. Music played through giant speakers hooked up to a blue-tooth device. Nothing gave off a rank smell. And the sofa looked clean, apart from where the agent sat with his hands and feet bound with silver and a rag stuffed into his mouth.  You ignored the agent and went over to the stove to check on your food. You weren’t in the mood to deal with his incoherent mumbling right now.

HellBoy however, whistled loudly as he approached the man. Taking a seat next to him and patting him on the shoulder.

“You look like shit.” HellBoy told him. Yanking the gag out of the agent’s mouth and throwing it on the coffee table. “So, had a nice visit with the witch?” 

“She’s crazy!” The agent hissed. Terrified eyes flicking between you and Hellboy. “She threatened me with a curse!” 

“Only to shut you up.” You sighed, slipping by the fridge to grab a beer. Chucking it to Hellboy as you approached. Shooting the demon a sharp look when he almost dropped the glass bottle. You sat on the arm of the couch next to Red. Glaring daggers at the agent as he started to shake.  He was sweating profusely and already there was a patch of moisture around his ass. “Oh come on! This couch is going to be a swimming pool if you keep doing that.” 

“S-Sorry,” The agent mumbled. And HellBoy shook his head, taking a swig from the beer as he playfully nudged the man with his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about her. (Y/N) is a sweet-heart. A little crazy, but sweet.” 

“Watch it, Red.” You warned, but there was still a smile there. “I can still hex you, too.” 

“What could you do? Make me ugly?” Red asked. Leaning back against the couch, totally ignoring the hopeful look the agent was giving him. “Already beaten you too it, hag.”

“I could make you sexy. Wouldn’t that be a change.” You teased. Glancing down at the agent.  You sighed and clicked your fingers, releasing the magic that held the chains around his limbs. They fell away with a clatter of metal and the agent looked spooked enough to run. “Relax, rookie. You can’t leave the basement without my-” 

Before you could finish, the agent leapt across the coffee table and made a run for the desk on the far wall.  You watched him for a second, confused to what he was doing. Until your eyes latched onto the gun on the table he was running for.  You swore and dived behind the couch just as he reached it. You heard the bang, and somewhere glass shattered and a bullet ricocheted off the walls.  You didn’t raise your head until you heard a body hit the ground with a mere huff of air. 

Peaking around the side of the couch, you saw Hellboy reach down and grab the man by the scruff of his coat. And then, none to gently, flinging the man over his left shoulder. The gun lay crushed on the floor to his right. 

“Fucking hell.” You huffed. Standing up from cover to sit on the couch. Your hands shook and you felt your chest tighten. “I was gonna give him some of my spaghetti as an apology for my hospitality.”

Hellboy carried the man over to the elevator, throwing him inside and slamming the gate shut.  “To be honest, you should have kept him unconscious.” Hellboy grumbled. Coming over to sit next to you.  He was a little awkward with giving comfort, but he knew his presence was enough to help calm you down. His human hand took hold of yours, squeezing it as you leaned against him.

“I probably deserved it. I’m getting more witchy with my kidnappings now. More cackles and spell-work. Some of your dad’s men don’t seem to take witch’s seriously.” You said. And Hellboy nodded. 

“Dad has been considering making you a consultant with the new guys. Help them understand what they will be going up against.” Hellboy told you. Resting his temple against the top of your head. “After this, the agent will have to go through his training again. So, it’d be amusing to see him go through some drills with you in charge.” 

You chuckled at the thought.  It was a consideration you never thought would come around.  You hummed in thought. It wouldn’t be so bad working with the Bureau, but you’d have to take it up with the Professor before you took it on. 

“I’ll think about it.” You said. You then moved away from Hellboy, nudging him playfully. “You should get that fucker to a hospital. He looks like you hit him with a bus.” 

“First, I want some of that food.” Hellboy said. Wrapping his arm around you in a playful attempt to put you in a choke-hold. Laughing as he scrubbed his knuckles against the top of your head. Messing up your hair until you managed to struggle out of it.  You pushed him, poking out your tongue. 

“Fine, fine. But then I want that agent out of my house!”

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