#the boys fic
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When I Get My Hands On You. (Soldier Boy Fic).
Soldier Boy/Ben x F!Reader 18+
Summary: Slight AU + 'Still Awake'. After everything, Vought decides it's better to keep Soldier Boy out of the way instead of putting him back under. Out of the way is a McMansion out of the city, a plot of land, a mountain and all the time in the world. He's got everything he needs, and yet there's still something missing. He figures out what it is very quickly when you show up. What a lucky man he is.
Song This Fic is Based On: Superbad Mantra - JAWNY, Christian Blue.
A/n: I'm so excited to post this fic, it was so much fun to write, and my first time writing for SB. I wrote, and rewrote this fic a couple of times, and this plot + ending just feels right. Let me know what you think. -Kash
Word Count: 3.5k
Tags & Warnings: 18+ Only, Cursing, Ben wanting you BAD, smut, drinking.
+
Never in a million fucking years would Ben admit to being tired of it all. The fighting, the anger, the planning, the business of it. But he is. Ben’s tired of fighting. He never wanted to be mixed in with Vought new affairs. So he’s almost ecstatic when they decide to just keep him hidden in the woods instead of putting him under again. He’s their Golden God, (well he used to be) so their version of hiding him is a red brick Mcmansion 40 minutes outside the city. When he sees it for the first time he gets a wave of –I don't know– peace? Ecstasy maybe at the sight of it.
Let me paint the picture of Ben’s newfound paradise. It’s on about 15 acres of land, surrounded by woods with a little creek tucked inside. When you come down the driveway there are rows of pine trees shading the pathway. To the east there’s a mountain, about a 40 minute hike to get to the base of it and an hour to get to the top. To the west there’s a river, a quarter mile wide and too long for Ben to guess. Big enough for him to fuck off on it for hours and still not see anyone. He gets a dock, a pontoon, plus a couple of trails all to himself.
All on the promise that he stays hidden, & out of the fray.
If we’re being honest right now, even with all of this, Ben told them to fuck off. He isn’t a pet to lock away when he’s not needed, he has–had a life. He deserves a life.
“We can’t guarantee you a life outside of what we’re offering you now, Ben,” Jeremy, Vought's coordinating agent for Soldier Boy says. He’s a weasley looking man, short with neatly parted black hair & wire-framed glasses. They’re standing on the back deck of the house, looking out to the river as the sun starts to set. His suit’s a little too tight, and not at all fitting for the summer heat. He keeps pulling at his tie, and dabbing his forehead with his pocket hankie. “All we’re asking is that you remain here for now, and once we’re able to settle our affairs and guarantee you a position without ..” He trails off.
Ben already knows. “Yeah,” He’s annoyed. “ Once you can get my sperm mutant under control, I get it.” He nods, and mulls over the thought for a moment, taking a good look at the property. It’s honestly, truly, not a bad deal. He’s just pissy because—“I’m not stayin’ here without getting high, Johnny.” he says matter of factly.
Jeremy doesn’t even miss a beat, he’s nodding immediately. “Understood, Vought is very aware of your extracurricular activities and we’ve already supplied you with a month’s worth of—”
“I’m gonna need more.” Jesus let him finish.
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy wipes the sweat from the back of his neck, and pulls a phone out of his pocket. “We have a delivery guy coming once a week with groceries, as well as anything else you may need. Just text this number with your list and we’ll send him over asap.” He hands Ben the phone and motions out to the water. “This is a great offer, Ben. No other Superhero is getting a set up like this, unlimited food, wifi, a boat—”
“It’s a pontoon.”
He ignores him. “And enough weed, coke, and whateverthehell else to kill all of Manhattan if you want it.” He locks eyes with Ben, smiles, & It’s quite frankly almost eerie. “Just stay here and let us handle the rest.”
He sits on it for about 10 seconds, before nodding and turning the phone over in his hands.
“How long?”
And that’s just the least of it.
+
About a month into it, Ben starts to get a little….restless. Yeah, sure, that’s the word for it. He’s content with the land, and the food, and the drugs, and has even started a little garden. It’s not huge, but he’s already gotten a few sprouts from his potatoes, so that’s something.
However, he’s still Ben. Still Soldier Boy. Still a man of needs, and cravings like he’s always been. Only now it’s panged with something like loneliness. Maybe that’s all it is. Maybe it’s the memories of his old life, and how everyone he loved turned against him. He was a son of a bitch, so maybe he deserved it. Whatever, anyways—
It’s a tuesday night when he finally hits fuck it territory. He’s been watching porn for three hours, and is–honest to God–tired of his hand & a screen. He swipes out of PornHub, and looks up the nearest Gentleman's club outside of the city. Because that’s what he is, a gentleman.
He gets dressed and walks two hours into a small town and makes a beeline for ‘Synn’. It’s a ‘not too shabby’, but shabby, looking gentlemans club on the east side of town, right off the highway. It’s a one story concrete building with tinted windows, & nondescript except for the giant neon purple sign outside. ‘Synn Gentlemen's Club’ it reads, with the silhouette of a woman next to it. The inside does it a little more justice. It’s got dark purple walls, and an honestly very well stocked bar all on a landing, plus a few tables and chairs. The floor is scattered with stains, and the walls have a faint smell of cigarettes. The rest of the club is almost like one giant conversation pit, with stairs leading down to the main floor, & two main stages right in the middle of the room. Both stages have mirrors at the back of them, so wherever you are in the club you can get a view. God does he love the view.
Ben loves women. I don’t know if you know that, actually I know you don’t know that, but he does. The way women talk, the way they walk, move their hips, their lips, their touch, their smell, their taste. Fuck, he loves the taste. He’s a bit more partial to older women, but lately he’s bent his own rules. Twenty-four is the youngest he’ll go, and even then it’s…iffy. Maturity is a big thing for him.
Here he’s happy to bend his rule to accommodate. He sits in a darker corner, his hat pulled low, and just enjoys the show. An hour, and nine beers in, & He’s gained just enough confidence to catch eyes with one of the girls in the club. She’s pretty, not exactly his type, but pretty. Long blonde hair, and a tiny sparkly pink one piece that barely hides anything.
Believe it or not he’s shy. Tonight Ben’s shy. Only because he’s sure he’s toeing the line right now being here, but he's feeling more hands on, so when she asks if he wants a dance, he immediately says yes. It lasts all of two minutes. He wants more, but not with her, and he can’t even put his finger on why he stops her from asking if he wants to go to the VIP room, but he does. He pays her and immediately leaves.
Back to his hand. Back to missing….something.
+
A week later, right as he’s snorting enough coke to down two bull elephants off of his coffee table, the doorbell rings. He quick sniffs, and wipes whatever’s left on his nose onto his gums before standing up. “Shit,” he half groans as he wobbles. Everythings a little too turnt at the moment, so he immediately sits back down and puts his head in his hands. “Oooooh, shit.”
He’s about 40 seconds deep into an almost meditative state when the doorbell rings again plus five knocks. This time he hears a “Hellooo?” And a softer, “Fuck, it’s hot please hurry up.” from the other side of the door. He knows you don’t mean for him to hear it, he can’t help it. He wishes he didn’t. Everything is too bright, and too loud, and his jaw is starting to grind from all the coke so no, hearing you or seeing you for that matter is not on his list.
Regardless, when you start knocking again he’s up. In three seconds he’s around the couch, and swinging open the front door. The heat hits him immediately and so does the sight of you. Oh God she's gorgeous. He’s gotta lean on the doorframe a bit to keep steady, and get a good look at you.
You’re standing in the doorway with two arms full of groceries. He’d completely forgotten about …Matt? Max? The guy Vought hired to buy him groceries, toiletries, and drugs. The other day he let himself in when Ben didn’t answer the door fast enough. Ben was shitting, and didn’t hear the doorbell. Or the door open for that matter. He scared Ben when he walked into the kitchen, & Ben threw a chair at him. He–thankfully–only shattered his collarbone. Needless to say the poor bastard quit while being loaded in the ambulance. The important part of that story is you. Standing here now instead of Mr. Irrelevant.
Ben smiles at you and silently thanks God for the summer heat. Your gray T-shirt is just tight enough around your chest that he can see the outline of your nipples. I promise he’s trying not to stare, so he’s gotta work a little harder not to let his eyes drag down body.
“Excuse me,” He’s not doing a good job.You’re just so pretty, baby. Even when you frown like that. “I’m y/n,” You say it slowly and a little sarcastically. You caught him staring, he knows he deserves it. He honestly likes it. “Jeremy sent me to drop off your groceries since Jackson–” That’s his name! “–quit. I’d shake your hand, but,” You hold up the bags, & Ben immediately reaches to grab them out of your hands. You look too good to work at Vault. Long lashes, pretty lips, and the way your hips curve in those shorts. He’s gotta ignore how much he wants to-
“Let me help with those,” He cuts his own thoughts off. “Are there any more in the car?”
You nod. “Yeah there’s a lot more, let me help you at least.” You turn to walk back down the pathway.
He takes a few steps out, and too eagerly says “No, Ma’am. Let me get em’.” Ma’am.
You don’t even stop walking. You just wave him off and say “It’s alright, I want to help. Honestly if you want to relax I can get these unloa–” He’s not listening. He’s coked out & kind of dazed, but he’s still a gentleman. Sort of. He can’t help but to watch your ass as you walk away. Your shorts look perfect on you, and everytime you step your ass jiggles a little.
He just met you and he can tell you don’t like him. He stares too hard, his hair is a mess, he’s wearing stained sweatpants and a stained tank top to match (Had he realized you were coming he would’ve gotten dressed), and boy does he like you. He already knows he’d devour you if you give him the chance. Give em’ the chance.
It takes about six minutes to unload everything out of your truck, Vought’s truck as you tell him. They gave you something big enough to haul all of his things in. A shitload of food, clothes, toiletries, fishing equipment, new hiking boots, and a black duffle bag you weren’t allowed to look in. Ben helps as much as he can which helps speed the process along. Now, however, he’s just sitting at the kitchen island bouncing between small talk, and admiring you put his groceries away.
“So,” He puts his forearms on the countertop and leans in. “Are you from here or..” Ladies and gentlemen, Soldier Boy! Jeez, try a little harder.
“No actually,” You say, pulling a couple of cases of strawberries out of bags, before putting them in the fridge. “I moved to the city about a year ago when I got hired at Vought.”
“And is this all you do?” You’re doing amazing, Ben. He cringes a little at himself for saying it like that. ‘All you do’ , it’s a little condescending.
You don’t even let it phase you. “No, actually, I’m Jeremy’s assistant and team lead.” You say before dropping down to a squat to load a few cases of beer onto the bottom shelf of the fridge. “I’m just here because I haven’t had time to hire a new personal shopper for you. I’ll have one for you by next week though, I promise.”
Oh, please don’t promise that.
He tries so hard not to watch you, but Jesus he can’t help it. He’s got his eyes locked on you. The muscles in your back move every time you pick another case up, & your ass is sitting so prettily as you sit on your haunches to balance yourself. You stand back up, languid and smooth and your legs are so fucking-
“Okay,” You say, turning back around. He’s looking straight at you, and praying you didn’t catch him staring again. Part of him hopes you did. “That’s about everything, I don’t think you need help putting your personal items away, do you?”
He fights the urge to say yes. “No, I-I’m good, but are you busy?” What is he doing?
You pause and your eyebrows raise. “Uh, well today’s my day off, but-”
“Stay for a bit,” It’s a statement he says more like a half-question. “If you’d like. I have a-uh pontoon, and I’ve wanted to take someone out on the river since I got here. It’s my thanks for you using your day off to come here.” He smiles, and tries not to be too obvious about how much he wants you to say yes.
“That’s kind of you,” You say smiling back before walking around the island towards your keys on the table. “but I have to go, I have a few errands to run.”
He’s good at hiding disappointment. He shrugs a bit, and keeps a warm smile. He can’t help but like the sound of your voice, even when it’s letting him down easily. “Okay, well can I ask you for a favor?”
You put your hands on your hips and look up at him. “Sure, what can I do for you?”
Sweetheart, so much. What he actually says is, “If you have time, would you mind coming again next week instead of someone else?” Oh he’s bold about it. “I just-” He shrugs. “I like our conversation. More than mine & Jacobs.”
You laugh, and it makes him wanna be good to you. “His name is Jackson, and I’ll see.” You look him up and down, and Ben swears you bite your lip a bit. “Let me see your phone, I’ll give you my number so you can let me know if you need anything else.” You hold your hand out, and he’s immediately passing his phone to you.
Oh he needs a lot. “Oh I need a lot.” He says before he even realizes it. Fuck.
You just chuckle and keep putting your number in. You’re cool, you’re so fucking cool, you know that? When you finish you hand it back to him, and his hand grazes yours. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t really like that.
“So if I text you tonight and say I need something, you comin’?” He says, saving your number.
“Nope,” You say matter of factly, walking to the front door. “But give me a week, if I can’t find someone for you, you’ll see me here again.”
He follows right behind you, eyes burning a hole into the back of your head. He does a little jog to grab the door before you do, and opens it for you. “Don’t look too hard then, that pontoon is just waiting for a chance at you.” And so am I. You give him a look at that statement, but say nothing.
He leans against the door as you walk out, and follows you all the way to the truck. “Can I only text you for things I need?” He says before reaching to open your car door too. Again, Ben is a gentleman through and through.
You sit in the driver's seat and ask. “Is there another reason to text me?”
He’s standing between you and the door now, and if we’re being real honest, he likes looking at you like this. The SUV is high enough that you’re eye to eye now, and he’s got a helluva’ view. He steps in a little & you’re even prettier up close. Nice cheekbones, pretty lashes, full lips. He puts one hand on the truck and keeps the other on the door, and leans into you a bit. His heart, Jesus, jumps a little when you don’t lean away from him. His breath deepens when you start looking him up and down too. Fuck, this is a moment.
Sweetheart, you’re givin’ him all sorts of ideas to hold on to, you know that?
“Absolutely, I needa’ get to know you a little better. Seeing as you know where I live and all.” He’s all eyes on you. His voice is kind of low now, and he can’t even help licking his lips. “You sure you don’t wanna stay a little bit longer? Let me cook you somethin’, show you how much I appreciate you, Y/n.” He’s practically drooling it out.
He’s–okay–he’s not even trying to hold back how much he wants you. His voice is too low, he’s too close, and looking you up and down too much for it not to be obvious. You clock it, immediately, and–against your better judgment–lean into him. So close that your noses almost touch, and you reach your hand behind him.
“I appreciate the offer but,” You say, grabbing the door. “I’m a little busy tonight.”
He wants you so bad it hurts, and he just met you. He can’t help it, he’s leaning into you, eyes closing, and–
“Ah,” You almost whisper, smiling and pulling back. This is so funny to you. “I’m not the one for that, but I appreciate the thought. Excuse me.” you look behind him to the door and he doesn't move at first.
Instead he just eyes you. He’s never had a woman play with him like that, and he’s torn between wanting more and none of it at all. You are the one for that, you’re just not there yet. You will be. He steps back, and you close the door, starting the car before rolling the window down.
“You have my number, Ben,” The way you say his name makes him want to howl. “Call me if you need me.”
“I promise I will, Y/n.” He says as you back up, turn, and pull down the driveway. He doesn’t go inside until your suv is out of his sight.
+
“Fuck, Y/n,” He moans, sitting back in his bed & jerking himself off to the thought of you. “Yes, baby, keep ridin’ it.”
He’s panting, eyes closed, imagining you on top of him. Fucking him like your life depends on it. He’s never heard you moan, but he's imagining something sweet, and addicting coming out of you. He starts bucking up into his hand, and imagines you whining at how deep he’s going.
‘Be-e-en,’ You’d moan, mouth open and drooling from how good he’s hitting it. You would grip his hair and bounce on him the way you know he likes it. ‘Ben, please baby, harder!’
He starts fucking himself harder at your imaginary requests. He’d do any–and everything you told him to, and quickly at that. “Fu-uck, y/n, you know I like that. You know I like that, baby.” He moans to no one, but the thought of you.
He imagines you swirling your hips on him, looking him in his eyes while you say, ‘Fuck baby I’m gonna cum. Ben, please,’ & he can’t hold it anymore. You are, even in his imagination, just too much. He cums all over his hand and stomach, and moans your name a couple of times for good measure.
And for a while he just lays there. Panting, eyes closed, mind full of you. Fuck ‘Synn Gentlemens Club’, you’re what he’s been missing. That thought really wakes him up. He just met you, and compared to the hundred other women he’s slept with in his lifetime, you knock him back a little. The way you talk, the way you walk, how you laugh, and even how you tell him no. You’re not taken aback by him, you don’t fear him, you toy with him a little bit and what’s worst of all is he likes it. He really likes it.
He likes it so much that he wipes his hand off on his stomach and grabs his phone. Immediately finding your name and texting you a simple ‘Hello’.
+
A/n: Thank you for reading <3 If you want to be tagged in the next chapter you can DM me or reply to this post!
#I'm in love with Jensen Ackles THERE I admitted it!#the boys#the boys fic#Soldier boy#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy smut#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x y/n#the boys fanfic
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MINORS DNI 18+
“And what is Noir’s girl doin’ out here?” SOLDIER BOY questions, grabbing your attention from behind you. With a condescending and chastising raise of his brows, he dips his chin to lower his voice. “Didn’t’cha hear it ain’t safe?”
You steel yourself against his intimidation tactics. You’ve never known Ben to be easy going, especially from Black Noir’s perspective. You swallow, and stand up a little straighter. “I can take care of myself.” As you talk, he saunters closer.
“Oh, I’m sure you can, princess.” he replies, but you’re unconvinced of his conviction, taking a wary and minute step back. Your tongue darts out to moisten your lips, and he notes it with his mesmerizing eyes. The kind of green you get lost in. You know he’s no good, that he’s probably a piece of shit, but you can’t help it. The heart in your chest threatens to bang right out of it, and not because you’re scared of danger. You’re scared of what you might do. He’s allowed to approach you, and he doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of you. Two tender fingers raise to your temple, and you eye them cautiously. He doesn’t care about your trepidation, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear, and tracing your jawline to flick your chin up. He inclines in to ask you in a low whisper, “Wanna show me?”
You never imagined you’d get fucked in the barracks. If you did, it would’ve been with Noir—
“Don’t think about him, you look at me.” Soldier Boy orders, and you fucking listen. Your eyes glazed over from guilt towards a now ex-lover sharpen from his demand, honing in on him as he sinks into you over and over. You’re nothing to him, light in his hands, picked up and propped up against some boxes of equipment while he’s lodging his cock all up in your insides. “Yeah, yeah,” he commends, a grin breaking out onto his face. One of pride. “That’s right. That’s a good girl. Yeah, you look at me when I fuck you.” For good measure, to keep your focus where it should be, he shows you he can hold you up with an arm, and takes the other hand to grasp your jaw. He pins the back of your head, and your brows upturn, panting through your nose. “Yeah, you want what I’ve got, don’t’cha? Noir can’t give to you this good, ah? Say it.”
You squeeze your eyes shut for a second, fighting off your impending orgasm while supe-cock bruises your cervix. The hem of his suit brushes past your clit in a delicious sting, you don’t know how much more you can take before you burst.
“Ah, ah.” he chides, jostling you by his harsh grip on your chin. “Lemme see them eyes.” You obey, peeling them open one by one as pleasure weighs them down. “Yeah, princess, let me see those pretty eyes.” His glove digs into the flesh of your thigh, you can tell he’s getting close, hips stuttering. “Now, tell me what I wanna hear. You wanna finish all over this cock? Tell me your little boyfriend can’t fuck his bitch like I can.”
#tw infidelity#indy: drabbles#ch: ben#soldier boy drabble#soldier boy smut#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy imagine#soldier boy fic#soldier boy fanfiction#the boys smut#the boys x reader#the boys x you#the boys x y/n#the boys imagine#the boys fic#the boys fanfic#reader insert
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Warning: Soldier Boy thots - Minors DNI
wanna talk about this gif but I will save that for another convo kgjadlkgjd
Thinking of Soldier Boy and his toned, muscular body. He’s so strong he can stand and carry you while fucking you silly. Since he’s a supe, it’s fairly easy for him to drape your legs over his forearms, grip your hips, and bounce you on top of his cock. Feeling his tip deep inside you makes you gush around him.
At first, the only grip you have on him is your nails clawing his back and shoulders. As his skin grew slick with sweat, you can only manage to hold his thick, golden brown hair. The moment you tug at the roots of his hair, Soldier Boy turns animalistic. His green eyes are blown with lust and he unleashes a growl that he only lets out on the battlefield.
Like a snap of the fingers, he mercilessly pumps you up and down his length as if you are a fleshlight. Except a plastic toy can’t feed into his inflated ego the way you do when you remind him how good he fucks you. Your moans are music to his ears and your facial expressions are a picture perfect view.
A few hard strokes later, you are twitching and screaming in his arms from a blissful orgasm. It’s only a matter of time before Soldier Boy holds your hips tightly against his to fill you with his cum.
#soldier boy#the boys#the boys series#jensen ackles#jensen ackles soldier boy#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy smut#soldier boy fic#soldier boy fan fic#soldier boy imagine#jensen ackles x reader#jensen ackles x you#jensen ackles x female!reader#jensen ackles fic#jensen ackles fanfiction#the boys fanfic#the boys fic
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Super Hearing
Homelander x Reader
Word Count: 927
Summary: You forget Homelander has super hearing, while trying to explain something to your friend in a crowded coffee shop.
Warnings: None.
Masterlist
Sandra’s voice drones on and on about the way climate change is ruining everything. You sip on your tea with a disgruntled look. She promised shopping and gossip, not channel five news. Your attention is caught when the bell beside you chimes. Letting everyone know a new customer walked in.
Your eyes widen in shock, this is the last place you’d expect to see him. The Homelander, at Starbucks. It helped that he had his son with him, his eyes ,almost as wide as yours, look at the extensive menu. This must be his first time. You look at his childlike wonder and remember being 14 and ordering cake pops with Sandra.
You look across from you and your jaw drops. “Sandy! Look who it is!” You whisper. She rolls her eyes, not fond of him. “God, please let the earth swallow me whole.” She says, dramatically resting her head on the table.
“You know I can’t stand him, or any supe for that matter.” She says rolling her eyes at your excitement. “Well. You know how I feel, I respect him, the good he does far out weighs the bad. He’s earned being a cocky ass.”
Speaking of ass, you take the time to admire his, he was wearing his suit, but no cape, must be too dramatic for errands with a kid. Someone blocked your view. A stereotype of a woman stands behind him, tapping his shoulder with her bottle tanned hand and long fingernails. “Can I get a picture?” You swear her voice sounded normal but it shot hot streaks through your veins, filling you with an annoyance.
“Sure thing.” He says, plastering a fake smile on, that looked like it hurt. He leans over for the picture, keeping a foot of space between them, even though it was obvious she wanted him to wrap his arm around her for the picture. You scoff, “He’s here being a dad to Ryan, why even bother him with pictures?”.
You see as the barista throws herself at Homelander as he orders for Ryan. She’s leaned halfway over the counter, her top buttons recently undone. “Look how tense he is right now, he probably never catches a break from women.” You say, never taking your eyes off him.
“I bet he has a new one of them in his bed every night.” Sandra says, downing the rest of her black coffee. You shrug your shoulders, it was probably true, you’d be one of those girls too, if you had the chance.
Sipping your tea once more you watch as they stand at the end of the counter, not immune to restaurant wait times. “I just know those girls can’t take care of him like he needs.” You feel bad for him, “They want a big strong supe to wreck them, I bet all he wants is to be cared for, genuinely.”.
Sandra laughs at you and it breaks your attention from the tall man. “As if it would be you.” She laughs again when you shoot her a confused look. “You’re so not his type, skinny blondes seem more in his range.” She says.
Your friends words hurt, but you knew they were true. You could sit in the corner fantasizing about him all day, it wouldn’t change the fact the he would never approach a girl like you. “What’s so wrong with dreaming?” You say, giving your friend a fake laugh to let her know you wanna change conversation topics.
Sandra pulls her phone out when ‘beez in the trap’ starts filling the small Starbucks dining area. “Hello?” She says, and you take the chance to look back over to the supe. Except he’s not standing there anymore, you see Ryan waiting by the front door and before you know it, blue fills your vision. Homelander is at your table, a paper business card in his hand.
You’re dumbfounded for a minute, wondering what it could possibly be. You look up to his face and meet his eyes. They glimmer as if he didn’t expect you to dare make eye contact with him.
“Can I help you, Sir.” You say, not wanting to say the wrong thing and embarrass yourself. Sandra groans from across the table, while still having the phone pressed to her ear, you don’t owe him anything and yet here you were serving yourself up.
“I hope so, call me. That is, if you like cocky asses.” He drops the card on the table and turns towards your friend to give her a grimace, letting her know how dissatisfied he was with her. He walks away without another word. Leading Ryan out of the trendy coffee shop.
Your face turns beet red, he heard you. If he heard you calling him names, then he heard how much you want him, a glimmer of pride sparks in your chest, she was so wrong, maybe you are just his type.
Sandra slides her phone into her purse, silently fuming. “Are you serious right now? We’re supposed to be having a girls day, not picking up guys.” She says, annoyed with everything you do. You wonder if she’s even your real friend.
“We were supposed to go shopping, not sit in Starbucks and talk about ice caps melting.” You shoot back, not letting her bully you any more.
Sandra gives you a look of surprise, like she didn’t expect you to talk back to her. “I think I’m gonna go.” You say, leaving her open mouthed at the table. You had to go celebrate yourself, alone.
#the boys#the boys diabolical#homelander#homelander x reader#homelander x you#homelander x y/n#john gillman#the boys fanfic#the boys fic#fanfiction#billy butcher#hughie campbell#supes#supe x reader#homelander fanfiction
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Don't Leave
Homelander x Reader
Request: can I get prompt “Please don’t leave me.” with Homelander pretty please?
Warning: Swearing, threats of violence
A/N: I hope this was alright! I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to go about it, but I was pretty happy with how it came out, hopefully you are too!
Y/N sat on Homelander's couch, seething from the scene he had made earlier that morning. A supe had only been talking to her, one of his supes nonetheless, and he had lost his mind, threatening him. The guy hadn't shown the slightest interest in her, but because she was engaging in conversation instead of fucking worshipping him, he got paranoid. She couldn't imagine how someone with all the power he had, all the strength, could be so insecure. He obviously didn't see it that way, he'd told her several times that it was the principle, but she knew better - he simply thought he owned her and planned to keep it that way.
It didn't take long for Homelander to saunter in, flowers in hand. This wasn't the first time they'd fought about his jealousy, but she was so exhausted by it. "So, I'm sure you're still mad", he smiled, moving closer and wiggling the flowers in front of her. Y/N made no effort to grab them. Homelander tilted his head and rolled his eyes, "Oh, come on, it wasn't that big of a deal", he huffed as he tossed the flowers on the table in front of her, pissing her off more. "Are you serious?", she fumed as she shot up from the couch, "You lost your shit on one of your own people!", she snapped, and he slowly turned, raising an eyebrow at her, "Maybe 'my people' should learn to stay away from my girl", he argued, though not particularly angrily. He had expected the same dance they always did.
"You really think I'd continue to be 'your girl' if I can't even have a fucking conversation with someone?", she spat, and he took a big step forward towards Y/N, narrowing his eyes, "Lower your voice", he ordered before continuing, "Are you implying you're thinking about leaving me?", he nearly chuckled, a hint of something dark in his voice, as well as his face. "I could replace you in seconds. I'm the fucking Homelander", he laughed, and Y/N smirked, "OK, then do it", she challenged, noticing the change in his body language. "Excuse me?", he asked, expecting her to think over what she just said to him. "Then. Do. It.", she repeated, more toying this time. His eyes widened in anger as he approached her, so closely that he couldn't get closer without knocking her over, "What? You want to leave me? You think I'd let you?", he threatened, "You belong to me", he spat. "Then act like it, or kill me", she said nonchalantly, though her heart was racing. He looked at her, visibly confused, and hurt. She had grown tired of the threats. If he was going to kill her, she was at least going to give him a reason to.
"I wouldn't hurt you", Homelander eased, trying to calm himself down, "Come on, you know how I get", he half laughed, half sighed, but she knew there was no humor in him at that moment. "I do. So, either kill me, or let me leave", she blurted, only half meaning to say it. No matter what words left his mouth, she knew it would only take one second of anger for him to kill her.
"Look, I'm sorry ok. I'm admitting defeat", he said while throwing up his hands, a forced smile on his face. Y/N kept quiet, just staring at him. Her next words could easily get her killed, but she also didn't want to let it go. "Y/N, come on", he laughed, rubbing both of her arms, looking down at her, "You know how much I love you", he assured her, more seriously. She continued staying silent, not giving him anything to respond to, which made him visibly more uncomfortable.
He stared down at her for a second before speaking again, “Please don’t leave me.”, he said softly, pain in his voice. Y/N licked her lips and took a deep breath, "I don't want to", she lied, "But I need to talk to people", she explained, rubbing her own arms while looking up at him. "I'm not enough?", he asked, almost as if it were an accusation. She sighed, "You're enough romantically. But you can't kill anyone who strikes up a conversation with me". Homelander took a breath and looked around, as if he were considering what she said. She knew he likely wasn't, but it was better than him just killing her then and there. "Alright, alright, I'll do better, I promise", he assured her as he wrapped his arms around her, looking down into her eyes.
Y/N nodded, "Thank you, that's all I want", she smiled softly, though somewhat forced. Nothing was going to change, not really, it never did with Homelander, but now she knew something she hadn't before - he didn't want to lose her. If it were anyone else who challenged him that way, they would've been dead on the spot, but he instead at least bullshitted out of fear. That, she could work with.
Homelander let out a sigh of relief and kissed Y/N, picking her up, "Great. Now, onto more important things", he smirked, carrying her over to the couch, "Making up".
*Please consider tipping $1 to my Venmo if you enjoy my writing. It's in no way required, just appreciated!*
#homelander#homelander x reader#my writing#the boys#the boys fic#fanfic#fanfiction#homelander reader insert#reader insert#imagine#homelander imagine#homelander fic#antony starr#supes#villain#writer
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Little Kreature (The Boys Drabble)
Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader (only indicator for gender is the phrase 'atta girl') / requests are open
Summary: The mission goes well and Butcher's found a surprise for you.
Fic type: fluff (gore mentions).
The Boys: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"Oi, love," you hear Butcher call from the other end of the hall. "Come take a look at this, eh?"
You roll your eyes but do as you're told, wandering down the hallway, streaking your fingers along the walls and trailing them through the blood that was splattered up and down and all the way across the eggshell-white walls. Well, they were eggshell. Hmm. You think you like red better.
You reach Butcher, giving him the side-eye when he gives your ass a slap and an accompanying "atta girl."
"What, Butcher?"
He nods his head towards the opened door, and what you see when you look inside has your jaw dropping open in shock.
"Don't you say I do 'nuffin for y'ah," he groused, checking down the hallway to make sure no more guards were coming up the stairs.
It's almost startling, seeing the spotless room when you've just waded through the guts of about twelve people splattered across every surface you could lay your eyes on. Yeah, you were the one who gutted them all, but still. What could you say? It was a gift.
But right there, sitting on the edge of the bed, was a puppy. A little speck of a thing, all soft-eared and floppy-skinned. He was precious, and the way Butcher was looking at you- you knew he'd already decided you could keep the thing.
"Oh, aren't you a precious little baby," you cooed, wiping the blood off your hands and onto your jeans before you reached out for the puppy to sniff your hand. His little head flopped to the side and you just about melted right then and there.
"Oh, Billy, look at him," you pouted, turning around and showing your boyfriend-cross-boss-cross-situationship the baby in your arms.
"Yeah, yeah, cute little cunt, ain't 'e?"
When you stood there content to coo at the thing for another however long, Butcher grunted, fingers shifting around the trigger on his handgun. He wanted to leave now that you'd taken out the Vought exec and her guards. Clearly, she was a fan of dogs. It almost made you feel a little guilty. Almost.
"Right love," Butcher said, deciding you'd both dicked around long enough. "Let's get this show on the road, eh? We don't want to be here when they send more supes to figure out what's happened. Grab y'er pup and let's boogie."
"Sir yes, sir," you replied with a flirtatious wink before making your way back through the blood-soaked home and out the door where MM and the others were waiting for you, guards and mission all but forgotten.
Now you only needed to pick a name for your little friend.
"How about Kreature?" You asked the pup as Frenchie opened the van door and ushered you inside, Butcher hot on your heels.
"Whatever you want, love," came Butcher's voice, assuming you'd been speaking to him.
Kreature it was, then.
#the boys#the boys x reader#billy butcher x reader#billy butcher#butcher#butcher x reader#billy butcher fluff#butcher fluff#butcher x reader fluff#billy butcher x reader fluff#amazon the boys#prime the boys#the boys fic#the boys fanfic#the boys fanfiction#the boys drabble#the boys one shot
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Jamie / Homelander sings as she makes coffee for herself and Y/N…
Jamie: gosh your lips are delicious…baby it’s cold outside
Y/N: wow you have the most amazing voice I’ve ever heard.
Jamie: this stays between us.
Y/N: don’t want Vought to find out?
Jamie: and let them do to me what they’re doing to Starlight? No thanks. If I’m only gonna sing, it’s only for you
Y/N: and that’s why I love you, Jamie
Y/N kisses a blushing Jamie on the forehead…
For @nevermore-69
#female Homelander#brie larson#homelander#homelander x reader#the boys#the boys 2019#the boys prime#the boys fanart#the boys fanfic#the boys fic#the seven#dawn of the seven#rule 63#genderbend#gender swap#genderswap#genderbent
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Pairing: Homelander x F!Reader
Warnings: Well, it's Homelander. He's fucked up, he's irredeemable, etc etc. We fuck monsters here. Violence, a little bit of a praise kink and some rough fucking mentioned. Homelander is a bit of a creep.
--
"What's your name?"
You had dropped the documents you were carrying, sending papers and folders flying in the cramped hallway. A towering figure in dark blue had stopped to help you, had knelt down beside you and swept the documents into his hands before straightening.
Homelander.
You told him your name and he repeated it with a shark-like grin. His canines were just a little too sharp, his eyes just a little too blue.
"How have I never seen you before? You should be front and center here."
You worked for Vought, a low-level secretary and a glorified "gopher" as Stillwell had so often called you.
But suddenly, you were front and center. A promotion came the day after he had stopped to help you. A new desk that overlooked the city awaited you on the 18th floor. "Supe Coordinator" they called you- the person who arranged their press appearances and made sure they were prepared for the media.
Deep, you learned, had a fear of public speaking. Black Noir, despite his silence, loved a good joke.
And Homelander, oh, Homelander. He was every bit as charismatic to you as he appeared on TV. He doted on you, always telling you how wonderful you were, how much better you were than the others at Vought.
"I think he likes you."
A coworker gestures to the Supe in blue and giggles behind her hand like a schoolgirl.
"He looks at you- like a lot."
Oh, does he look. His eyes linger on your every move, watching as your hands touch the other Supes. He thinks of breaking Deep's neck when he makes a crude joke about you.
Homelander isn't used to feeling like this- humans are below him. But he aches for you, wants to make you his. He wants to parade you around like a trophy at his side.
He envisions a perfect life with you at his side- a kid, a dog, a fucking picket fence. The whole works.
A stroke of luck for him comes at your expense.
In the parking lot, a madman rants, holding a sign that decries supes, calls them evil. He's waving a knife. He's blocking your car.
Homelander hears your shriek from the top floor.
He bursts through the window, sending a spray of glass to the pavement below. In an instant, he has the man by the throat, shoving him into a nearby car.
Homelander looks like something from a horror movie, shark teeth bared, eyes glowing red. He snaps the man's neck and drops him to the ground without flinching.
You're shaking, trembling like the helpless, powerless human you are. He scoops you into his arms, holds you tightly against his broad chest and takes flight, delivering you home despite your protests at leaving your car behind.
You don't think to ask him how he knows where you live.
After the parking lot incident, Homelander keeps you close.
"Wouldn't want you to get hurt."
"I'll protect you."
An excuse to have you by his side- to fly you home every night and bring you to work in the mornings. He's insidious like that, isolating you from others before they can warn you about him.
One night as he flies you home, you finally ask the question that has been burning in your chest like a coalfire.
"Why do you do this?"
He makes a sound, like a rumble deep in his chest, before glancing down at you. In the darkness, his features are even more striking, his blue eyes boring into yours.
"I like you."
Your stomach does somersaults that have nothing to do with the flight.
After that, you're his before you even realize it.
Headlines abound-
"#1 Supe Settles Down"
"Homelander Finds Love in a Surprising Partner"
He brings you on press tours, keeps a protective gloved hand on your thigh as they ask you questions.
"What's it like being with the most powerful man in the world?"
The hand tightens. He's smiling but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"It's amazing."
The grip loosens once more.
--
"Say it. Say you're mine," Homelander's hips snap against you and you cry out, head lolling back as he fucks you.
"Say it," he commands between thrusts, his hand coming to your throat in a warning.
"I'm yours!" you wheeze as his hand tightens on your windpipe.
"Good girl," he croons, "Such a good, good girl."
He releases your neck from his grasp and focuses instead on your breasts, hands wandering over them like he's committing them to memory.
There's something about your fragility, something about the way he could so easily hurt you if he felt compelled. It drives him, makes him feel like an animal.
He cums inside you over and over until you're so sore you're almost begging for reprieve. He pulls back to examine his handiwork, eyes hungry as he drips from you.
He isn't always this rough.
There are times when he finds you in your apartment, defeated and longing. Times when all he can do is lie back while you ride him, begging for your praise.
And you give it to him.
You use his real name, run your fingers through his hair while you sink onto his cock.
"John," you whisper and he's putty in your hands, whimpering and burying his face in your chest, "My good boy. My Homelander."
And he is yours- so completely and totally that it frightens him.
You're a target now- a target for not just the media, but for his enemies too.
Billy Butcher smells blood in the water the first time he sees you at the Supe's side.
"We could use this. Use her."
Butcher threatens your life and Homelander sees red. He vows to go scorched earth, to kill him and his "Boys" if they ever lay a finger on you. He's ranting, pacing the floor of your apartment, his cape billowing in his wake.
"I'll crush his fucking skull-"
"John, please," you're pleading, wringing your hands in desperation.
"I'll rip his throat out!"
"John!"
He snaps back to reality and clutches your hands in his, kneeling before you in a stunningly human gesture.
"No one will ever hurt you," he promises, steely blue eyes never wavering from yours, "Ever."
You believe him.
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SPITE— The Boys fic, Billy Butcher x reader, crossposted from AO3, reader uses she/her pronouns
TW: Violence, noncon
The super villain known as SPITE (reader) has been stalking Billy Butcher. He captures her, and chaos ensues...
Read after the cut
---
"You little cunt."
The words lose their meaning quickly in the lurching dark through frequent repetition.
Their first utterance is a hiss against your ear as you're dredged from the street to some rank basement, roiling in your captor's grip like a sturgeon all the way down.
The second usage of the phrase errupts in a catankerous grunt as their speaker attempts to bind you to a chair, a gyre of your tulle and satin costume half-smothering him as you thrash, and kick, and bite.
"You little cunt," snarls Billy Butcher, for the third time, as you clip his jaw with your forehead.
Then, with a vicious grin, he spits a gout of his own blood into your face.
"Like that, do you, you fucking supe slag? Don't worry, there's plenty more where that came from."
His shackles your throat with his fist, smirking as you flinch from the red razors of his teeth. He wears a mask of revulsion, the whites of his eyes within it shocking, horrible.
You can't seem to look away.
"Not so brave, now, are you, flower?" asks Butcher. "See, I've been following you, and just picture my fucking surprise to find out that you've been trying to do the same to me. And just me, that is; you've kept well out the way of my Boys. You've been very clever about it, I'll give you that. I doubt they even have a clue who you are."
He releases your throat and wipes his hand on the garish fabric of his shirt with a laborious theatricality.
"So," he continues, "either you were trying to kill me off—which you are absolutely shit at, by the way—or there's something else you're after. Wonder what that could be?"
Butcher kicks a chair leg, and you rock upon it like a bowling pin.
"Look at ya," he sneers. "Running around here, dressed like some clown's tart— sorry to tell you, love, but the circus ain't in fucking town."
Swallowing dryly, you attempt to scrape the chair backwards, inch by inch, across the floor, putting space between yourself and the man with the coarse velvet of murder in his voice.
Butcher watches your retreat, shaking his head.
"Where are you gonna go, sweetheart? You can't use your fucking fairy magic powers when you're all tied up like that, so don't get any ideas. You're cosied up with me for a bit. So let's have a chat, shall we?"
With your voice obstructed by a makeshift gag you merely widen your eyes in response.
"Well, love, I'm glad you asked," says Butcher, with an acid sarcasm. "There's only two ways you're leaving here tonight: either as strawberry slushie at the bottom of a fucking rubbish bag, or all in one piece, except for your dignity, that is. Better make up your mind. I don't have all night."
He pauses, pretends to consider.
"Well, I do, but I wanna spend it cracking open a couple of beers with the lads, not down here chin-wagging with a bleedin' Supe."
Butcher's gaze is thick with the dregs of an old and bitter madness: you feel more than undressed by it, skinned, rather, your muscles flayed from the bone.
"Look at you," says Butcher, coldly. "Sitting there in all that pink bollocks looking like something Piglet shat out after a mad one in The Hundred Acre Wood. What's it all about, eh?"
He kicks suddenly at your calf, his boot rending layers of candyfloss fishnet thread with a blow that will surely bruise.
"Nobody's making you wear this shit; Vought won't touch you with a bargepole after all the stunts you’ve been pulling on the sly. Your own kind don't want anything to do with you. You're a loner. So what were you doing prancing about in this silly fucking get-up? Waiting for me to notice?"
Butcher shunts your chair back against the wall, tipping it at an angle that, at his high vantage, likely allows a view that is particularly obscene.
"Don't be shy," he leers. "Every time you threw a kick at me I could see right up at your knickers. And they're fragile little things, ain't they?"
You strain against your bonds, bucking with such an indignant gusto that the ropes start to fray against your muscles.
"Oh no you fucking don't," says Butcher, and slaps you so hard across the cheek that you're still again in an instant, your ears sirening from the blow.
"You don't wanna piss me off, darling," says your captor, grimly. "See, I could really fucking hurt you, but I don't wanna manhandle you more than I have to, savvy? Then again, I think you're gagging to be roughed up. Didn't put up much of a fight, did you, and now I've got you right where I want you—"
You mumble your objections into the wad of lace against your teeth, but Butcher ignores you, caught up in the rhythm of his spiel.
"—Seems like you're desperate for me to give you a good seeing to. Well, don't worry, love. Daddy's here."
He's being ironic, you think, but as a strange combination of want and loathing twists his countenance you begin to change your mind.
"I can't stand your sort," Butcher mutters. "Filthy mutants, the lot of you. But seeing you in this mess I might have it in me for a pity fuck."
He shoves a thumb into your mouth and pulls free the gag, wincing as his fingers come away wet with drool.
"Well," he says. "Speak up, love. Do you wanna shag, or die?"
"Neither," you rasp. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Butcher's smile is blood and ice.
"See, I thought you'd say that. So I took the liberty of popping all the security footage I've got of you onto a nice little pen drive so I could play it back to you, remind you how many times you’ve tiptoed around me about in your glorified stripper wear without finishing the bloody job. Let's have a gander, shall we?"
He fumbles for a remote, and a vast television screen illuminates in the centre of the room, revealing picture after picture of you tracking Butcher across the city by night. You recall taunting him with your proximity, enjoying the game; it's how you always hunt your targets, hounding them until they go mad with paranoia, an end hastened by hallucinations cast like spellwork from your fingertips, each more awful than the last.
Butcher, however...
He had been difficult. He'd barely seemed to respond to your assaults, no matter your pressure upon his mind.
"In case you're wondering, I saw your poxy visions," he announces perceptively, rapping the television screen with his fist. "But you underestimate the level of fucked up I've witnessed in my life. I've seen scarier shit in my morning routine."
The screen flickers, and you're faced with a shot of yourself standing in Butcher's shadow, so close to him that your breath is almost on the back of his neck. How smug you'd been in the thought that he hadn't known you were there, that you were so extraordinarily clever, and daring.
Humiliating to think that Butcher had followed you with equal stealth, despite his limitations.
"Tell me why you picked me to wind up," he demands, "and not Frenchie, or M.M., or any of my mates. Why am I so special? You've heard my theories. Now it's your turn."
You don't immediately answer, keeping a mutinous silence.
Butcher approaches you with a slow, heavy tread, a killer's prowl, and leans into you, smelling of beer and cologne, and his own congealing blood. You wonder what he makes of your own scent: sweat and sugar, the remnants of perfume, petty irritants for his rudimentary human senses.
Smirking, you say, "You despise us all so much, Billy. I wanted to see what your face would look like when you realised that a Supe had killed you."
"Nah," says Butcher, shaking his head. "I'm not convinced. I reckon you wanted to know how hard a 'normal' like me could hate-fuck you when you got caught in the act."
He shunts a knee between your thighs—each lashed to either side of the chair, conveniently apart—and grinds an apex of bone against you, forcing a reluctant shiver through your core.
You're afraid to move, lest you provoke him; you can't be silent lest Butcher thinks he's won.
At last you settle to hiss between your teeth, "Why don't you just do it? Like you said, I can't use my powers with my hands tied like this. So what's stopping you? Why don't you just do what you want, Mr King Shit of Fuck Mountain?"
"That's not my style," says Butcher, with a sneer. "I want you to ask for it. Beg like the pathetic cunt you are. I'm giving you a choice."
"I'm tied to a chair, genius. I don't have many choices."
"You were trying to murder me, sweetheart. You're lucky you're getting any options."
"You could just let me go."
"And put up with you tormenting me for another bloody month? Not likely."
You burst into sudden laughter and Butcher freezes, his face clouded by sheer loathing.
"Shut up," he snarls. "Shut up right fucking now."
Butcher makes a fist, and you wonder what he means to do: violet an eye, shatter a tooth, break bone like a glass in some grimy pub. As your laugh continues he aims a punch and misses as you weave your head aside, splitting his knuckles on the back of the chair.
"Shit!"
"You're a hypocrite," you say, as he wipes off the blood. "I know all about you. Your hard-on for killing Supes. You act like you think you're better than us, but really? I think you're a jealous little fanboy."
"Who's the fucking fan here?" snarls Butcher. "Admit it. That little stalking act— you've been flirting with me."
You wrinkle your nose.
"You wish."
"Don't have to wish. I reckon if I was to feel that snatch of yours right now you'd be wet through."
The laughter dies in your throat, and you edge about in your seat, attempting to shimmy your skirt further down over your hips.
"Wouldn't mean anything," you mutter, at last, and Butcher gives you a cunning look.
"Only that getting smacked about by a man who wants to kill you is your cup of tea. And I'm starting to think it is."
He shrugs off his vast coat, throwing it aside. Veins stand out on the backs of his hands and arms, and you realise, suddenly, that he is serious in what he means to do, entirely so. You could die tonight, and the worst of it is that no one would care.
"Make your mind up, Spite," says Butcher. "You know what's on the table. You pick, or I will. I don't think you'd like that. My crowbar wants to make friends with every one of your stupid fucking Supe bones."
The peril of your situation is unavoidable. You move your lips, the sounds escaping at such mite softness that Butcher cranes his ear towards your mouth.
"What did you say? Speak up, darlin'."
With a sudden lunge you snap at Butcher's earlobe and latch on with grinning teeth. Blood crests your tongue in a grisly baptism, and as the man wrenches from your grip you see how badly he wants to hurt you.
"Oh, you sneaky little fucker!" he barks. "That's it; I've had enough of that mouth."
In a punishing scuffle Butcher stuffs another wad of torn fabric between your jaws, thrusting it so far down your throat that you almost choke. Then he drags your hips forward on the chair and scrambles for his zipper, his face murky with rage.
"You wanna play, Supe? Then let's have some fucking fun."
His fingers pierce your core, twisting deep, and you writhe like a halved worm around them.
Butcher drives his face so close to yours that your foreheads knock together, his eyes the very black of death.
"So I was right. You're making a proper mess, poor little thing."
You attempt to remain defiant, scornful, but you can barely maintain the artifice when Butcher's hand is so deep within you, each rough twitch of his fingers inducing a further slickness. Desperate, you wrench your arms against the ropes that hold them fast, hoping to wear through your bonds.
"Pack it in," snaps Butcher. "Or I will really bloody hurt you."
You believe it, but don't cease your struggling; you never relinquish a fight, whatever the cost.
Cursing, Butcher wraps a fist around your throat, squeezing until you gargle in pain.
"Now you be a good little trollop," he says, "and take my fucking cock, alright?"
He's so hard as he enters you that you see, in his expression, a dark, aching relief, as though soothing a terrible burn.
How long as he thought about this, tortured by your figure twisting and dancing around him through the rain-lashed streets in a miasma of summoned dreams? How close did he come to splaying you across a wall in some filthy alleyway, crushing you like a butterfly under his boot?
Now he has you jailed from your powers he makes you feel weak. How exhilarating that he is capable of this, a man born entirely without super abilities.
With each violent thrust the chair bangs against the wall, swinging a blade of pain up through your middle. Butcher's hands rip at your costume, tearing it between your breasts with an animal malice.
"You're tight," he says. "So fucking tight..."
He kisses your stuffed mouth with a clash of teeth, and the assault sparks the flint of lust in the secret part of you that has yearned to be dismantled by his stark hatred.
Even as you'd schemed to kill him you'd thought this man handsome, admired, coldly, his brutal methods, imagined standing over his corpse, admiring the loss of homocidal life as you might a sun beam in broken glass.
Now you are such fragments in his handling Butcher has no mercy for you. The man is out of control, taking, by instinct, in a berserker state, knowing nothing but the satisfaction of violence.
His cock jars you like a slaughterer's bolt, knifing your warmth with his ever greater heat. There is no talking, for a time, only the fever of his vengeful need. The room resounds with exerted grunts and the squeak of the chair beneath your struggling bodies; the angle of fucking is awkward, and you notice Butcher glancing at your bonds, evidently considering whether or not cutting you loose is worth the risk of you killing him.
At last he barks, "I'm gonna move you. Try anything stupid and you can kiss your kneecaps goodbye."
You nod limply, and Butcher pulls a blade from somewhere and hacks at the ropes with a careless malice, unflinching as he nicks the skin beneath. Keeping only a knot around your wrists he wrangles you over a couch and ruts you, face down, upon it, his fist in your hair, straining its roots.
"This what you thought it'd be like, you fucking brat?"
You try to brace a leg upon the floor, but your foot skids, and Butcher presses you harder against the couch cushions, smothering your ragged breaths.
"Supposed to be superior," he grunts. "Can't even put up a proper fight."
You twist under him, throwing him off onto the floor in a landslide of churning limbs, and as he staggers up after you again he's grinning widely.
"That's more like it."
As he comes for you again you vault yourself over the back of the sofa and roll into a dark corner, loosening the rope across your hands. When Butcher seizes you by the ankles and hauls you towards him you steeple two fingers at the man's forehead and flex.
What you put into his mind is the vilest image your thoughts can conjure, so corrupt that he drops you swiftly and flinches back, his face paling.
"Fuck me."
For a moment you think that Butcher might vomit, and scrape yourself further across the ground, towards the door, waiting for the inevitable heaving to give you time to run. But he only turns his head and spits a clot of plegm into the dust, his countenance wrenched by a savage glee.
"I knew you Supes weren't right in the head, but you're really somethin,'" he breathes. "Can see why all your quarry end up bashing their own brains in against the nearest wall. Not me, though, love. You've picked the wrong bastard."
A rare fear eats through you as you dump the last of the rope and scamper up the stairwell towards the street. As you barrel your shoulder into the door at the top it resists you, barely splintering despite your harshest efforts.
"Supe proofed," says Butcher, smugly, as he comes up the stairs behind you. "At least against half-baked cunts like you that don't even have decent powers."
He slams you against the door, dizzying you in the blow. The next thing you're aware of is being dragged back down to the basement, and although you rail him with blows and waves of toxic thought Butcher manages to lumber back over the threshold again.
"I'm not finished with you," he says, and lets out a yelp as you sweep a foot under one leg, bringing him down onto the concrete floor with a resounding boom.
Spitting out the gag, you snap, "Go on, kill me, fuckface. I'm waiting. Make it good for me!"
"I'll make something bloody good, that's for sure," Butcher retorts, and he pins you on your back, arms trapped beneath you. "I never leave a job half-done."
He kisses you again, his tongue gilding your throat, and you feel his hardness between your legs again, undetered by the fight, likely strengthened by it. This is a man who feeds on brutality: why should his fucking be any different?
This time when his cock enters you his right hand follows, finding your clitoris with a nimble ease. You loathe the way he makes your body jump to his touch, the stupid, whimpering moans that pass your bleeding lips with the ruthless beat of his thrusting.
You detest how easy it is for him to mould your obstinance into something needy and mewling, as though he knew this potential was there from the beginning.
"How's that feel?" asks Butcher, thickly, a devilish blaze in his eyes. "Tell me. Is that good, you little cunt?"
"Yes!" you blurt out, and hate him for making you say it, for the fact that it is true. "God, don't—"
You attempt to bring your knees together, to dislodge his hand, but you can't shift Butcher's weight, only trigger him to fuck you deeper, rolling his fingers between your heaving bodies until you're slick as an eel with perspiration.
"Go on, make some noise," croons Butcher, "'cause you're gonna come so hard you'll forget how much you hate me."
Your mouth opens to protest, but to Butcher's grinning satisfaction you can do nothing but let out hoarse, quavering cries, all rational thought simmered to steam on the pinnacle of your ecstasy.
You've never known pleasure so sharp, so clean. You're still in the throes of it when Butcher bucks against you one last time, flattening you beneath him as he fills you with his groaning release.
He rolls off and lies beside you for a minute, seeming to gaze at the ceiling, with something between disgust and a quiet smugness.
Then he says, into the lull, "You want a drink?"
You sit up slowly, disliking the precarious wobble in your arms as your brace yourself.
"Why," you say, slowly, "the fuck would I want to drink with you, Butcher?"
Getting to his feet he shrugs, and fumbles about on a table for a bottle of something murky and likely possessing the qualities of turpentine.
"'Cause you're still sat on your arse rather than trying to kill me again, so I reckon you need a bevvy. And I know you ain't got anywhere else to go."
Butcher pours you a shot of the dark liquid and eyes you with a cagey interest when you don't immediately take it.
"I'm the only one of your marks that isn't a Supe," he says. "I haven't figured out your M.O. yet. Be easier to pick your brains when you're pissed. Might loosen you up a bit."
"Not a good idea," you mutter. "Might realise we've got more in common that you think."
You outstretch a hand and pluck the glass from him, sniffing the contents suspiciously.
"Ain't poisoned, Spite," says Butcher. "Be fucking rude, after what we just did."
"It'd be bang on character, then," you reply, coolly, and drain the glass in a wincing swig. "Christ. How do you drink this shit?"
"I've got a strong stomach. Or kidneys. Take your pick. So, now you're watered, speak up. Why did you come after me?"
You wind your arms around your knees and look at Butcher sideways, thinking, with some annoyance, how much your answer will stroke his ego.
"A lot of Supes out there are afraid of you. I just wanted to know why."
#ao3 writer#the boys#the boys fic#billy butcher#billy butcher x reader#dark!billybutcher#dark!fic#tw noncon
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Good Morning
Ben being Ben, neutral!reader, Ben and Reader are engaged, third pov, spoiler free (only mention is soldier boy’s story)
warnings: physical touch (romantic way), fluff & soft mostly, domestic fluff
a/n: this imagine doesn’t take place during The Boys’ events, I just took Soldier Boy’s story and did the imagine, only based on the tv show! I wrote that one at midnight, sorry if there’s any error, please do tell me. as always, if you want more, feel free to ask!
prompt: what if Soldier Boy was free from the Russian by you a long time ago? You and Ben living an happy romantic life.
The sun was hitting through the open windows while the curtains were moving slowly because of the wind. It was a peaceful summer morning. The light woke you up. It was still early and you were still sleepy. The body against yours didn’t move when you tried to come closer, you just heard a grunt. You kissed one of your boyfriend’s cheek. Only after that you finally felt an arm around your own body, making you giggle.
Ben and you bought a cosy house far away from the city. You always wanted to live in a cottage and he made sure your dream comes true. You spent many months working together so the house could become your little nest. You were proud of you, and at the end of the renovations Ben asked you to be his spouse and you said yes without any doubts.
As a young engaged couple, you were always watching your ring a lot. Ben chose the perfect one. This morning didn’t escape your routine. You tried to remove your arm from Ben’s and you watched the little ring shining on your finger. It made you smile. You felt and saw Ben’s hand on yours, intertwining your fingers.
“Already awake sweetheart?” he asked while kissing your forehead.
“Mmhmmh,” you muttered.
A small smile appeared on his lips and he started to slowly stroke your hand with his. You really liked the cute Ben, you always liked everything about him, except his misogyny – even though he was doing his best to actually change the way he’s acting as he doesn’t live in 1940 anymore.
“What are you thinking about?” he wondered, as you were staring at your intertwined fingers without moving.
“I wish we could make breakfast together, today,” you replied while moving your head to meet his eyes. He was looking right at you, with his usual lovely morning expression.
“Right, what d’you wanna eat?”
You were kinda surprised he accepted that fast so you didn’t answered right away. You were too lost in his glance anyway.
“Baby? What do you want for breakfast?”
“I want some pancakes! Oh and can we make some cookies too?! Not for breakfast but i really want cookies. With orange juice. Or apple juice! Wait wait, with milk, it’s better with milk.”
You heard him laughing before kissing you.
“Sweetheart, you can eat whatever you want y’know,” he said then kissed your forehead for the second time this morning.
“I know but.. It’s breakfast..”
“Well, let’s have some pancakes with milk for breakfast then we do your cookies while drinking apple and orange juices.”
Oh how you loved this man. He was always there for you whatever you needed or wanted.
“Are you sure you want to make pancakes and cookies with me?” you asked, not so sure of you though.
“Of course, as long as it makes you happy,” he replied with his eyes in yours, the green meeting something deep in your soul, you could feel it.
You muttered a thank you and before being able to understand what was going on, you were in his arms and out of bed.
“Ben!” you yelled as he was holding you on his shoulder. He sure was laughing, proud of him, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him as he was heading to the kitchen.
“I’ll land your majesty on the counter, if that’s good for your majesty.” You just nodded as an answer.
He gave you a little squeeze on your thigh before you felt the wood under you.
“What do we do first?” he asked you.
“We find the ingredients, a bowl and a frypan.”
“Don’t move, I do it.”
You contained your laugh while watching him struggling to find everything. This poor man didn’t know his own kitchen that well.
“Want some help?”
“Uh.. No. You stay on the counter,” he replied, not so sure of himself.
After some minutes Ben finally found a bowl and a frypan. But he was clueless looking in the fridge.
“Do you even know what are the ingredients?” you finally asked him as he was closing the fridge’s door.
“Well.. I never made pancakes y’know..”
“That’s what I thought,” you laughed and get down off the counter. “Let me explain.”
Ben wasn’t the best, you knew about his past, but you were both in love with each other and nothing else mattered during those soft moments. You knew he still had a lot to learn if he wanted to fit in today’s society but you always promised to be there for him. Of course you also knew Soldier Boy would always be Soldier Boy, but for you he was Ben, the man who asked you to become his only spouse. He still was making mistakes but he was so careful with you.
#the boys series#the boys#the boys fanfic#the boys tv#the boys fandom#the boys fic#soldier boy fanfic#soldier boy#soldier boy fic#jensen ackles#fluff#soldier boy x reader#ben x reader#ben (soldier boy)#domestic fluff#soft fanfic#soft fic#soldier boy imagine#the boys imagine#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy x you#neutral reader#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral fanfic#soft soldier boy#the boys season 3#the boys s3
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At First Sight (Homelander Drabble)
(aka: Knock em' off his feet) Homelander x F!Reader (18+)
+ His first time seeing you. Actually, he's seen you in his peripheral a handful of times. This? This is when he gets a good, long, look at you. He's a little stuck to say the least.
Words: 657 (Short & sweet, I just couldn't help making a point.)
A/N: Oh how I LOVE down bad man. You can't watch the show and not know that whoever has his affection HAS him. This is my first fic on this blog, I've written a lot before, deleted my blog, and came back, Maybe this will bring me back in, who knows. (Ask box open).
Warnings: Cursing, Homelander craving you, a little too wanting.
+ + +
Homelander likes you. No, listen, Homelander likes you. These days he’s so brazen with it, and you can hardly walk into the same room as him without buzzing under his stare. However, I wanna start it off a little slow at least. He started it off slow at least. Kind of.
It’s your third week in when he takes a good look at you. A rushed mission brief is called and Ashley, idiot, decides now is the time to try out a new presentation method. Handouts. She’s so fucking proud of herself when she steps to the front of the room and says, “I want to ensure everyone has a thorough analysis of the plan, as well as some facts about the landscape that I think—“
Oh please, he’s so close to asking her if she was shaken as an infant when he notices you. Supe by supe you walk around, placing a sheet of paper in front of everyone, & God the sight of you. You know how hard it is for someone to catch him off guard? You do it instantly, unknowingly, unabashedly. Honestly, it’s your eyes – wait – your lips. He can’t stop looking at your lips. Then you smile at The Deep and he has to sit back in his seat a little bit, scooch down, and lean over, chin in hand just to get a good look at you. You’re just about to reach Noir when Ashley musters up the gumption to ask, “Homelander, how would you feel about starlight leading this mission while you stay as backup?”
He’s almost too slow to take his eyes off you, but he does & laughs incredulously at Ashley. “Why would I do that?”
She actually quick steps towards him, hand extended holding a sheet of paper, & places it in front of him before you can make it. “We’re working to establish your image with our female audience, ages 25 through 45, as a softer protector.” She says softer with a wince, like she can hear how fucked it sounds. He’s annoyed, and has to deep breathe his way out of showing it. What the fuck is he reading? It's a mess of statistics and a – quite honestly –l ameass excuse for a game plan that he’s happy to pass on to StarLight. Ashley finishes with “Currently you’re doing amazing with our male audience, but we’d like to shift towards a team player, lover of women image.”
He’s a lover. Through and through, and sometimes hard to find. It’s there though, eventually you’ll get it.
You walk behind him, and reach beside him to place a sheet down in front of Queen Mauve. You smell good. He tilts his head just enough to catch a sight of you without being too honest about it. You’re a sight. You know that? It’s enough to make his eyes drag down your body, stopping at your ass and then making a slow track down your legs. He’s a dog about it, and internally says fuck it, because then his eyes are back up and locked on yours.
He hears your heart jump a little, but you’re a pro, because you just smile it off —fuck, you’re beautiful — and say “Good morning.” Before walking away.
Fuck off, ‘Good morning’ , he’s salivating.
“Good morning” he says kindly.
He hasn’t been this turned on, this quickly in a long time. For a human at that? You’re a new feeling, one he can’t even tell if he’s comfortable with. So he’s gotta lock his eyes back on Ashley and pretend like he isn’t gonna think about you later. “Yeah, absolutely –” He waves his hand, & smiles, “– let’s show some girl power, huh?”
One last glance at you, and you’re looking right at him. He doesn’t even hide his stares this time. His dick jumps a little at the fact that you don’t look away, and he makes a mental note to get your name after this.
+++
A/N: *Screams in wanting him*
#the boys#Homelander#The boys fic#homelander x reader#homelander fanfiction#homelander x you#the boys series#the boys tv#Kash Writes#fanfic
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MINORS DNI 18+
“This way, sweetheart, this way!” the clambering voices of the paparazzi build and crowd your ears. Flashing lights of pictures being taken leave imprints on your vision, but you smile through it. Your hands are dutifully wrapped around BLACK NOIR’s thick bicep, and you tilt your head against his shoulder as he leads you through the line of press.
“Black Noir’s girlfriend, over here! Look at me!”
“Right here, honey, right here!”
A warm palm pats against the top of your hand, and you glance up at Noir. You’ve gotten exceptionally talented at telling his signs, and he’s eyeing you from the side. A silent and familiar question that has you moistening your lips, retreating with him to the restroom as soon as you can afford to slip away.
“Couldn’t wait to get me back, huh?” you question, winded from effort as mean fingers dig into the flesh of your waist, guiding you up and down. “You know you’re supposed to be working, right? Can’t believe you needed a pussy break.” you chide. Fat cock drives into you at a harsh pace, bracing your hands on the stall dividers for support. With each of his thrusts up, a soft grunt expels through his nose, and it makes you shiver. Your fingers come to toy with his lips through his mask, the scarring embossed underneath it, sliding against your pads. “So fucking horny, baby. Is it ‘cause they called me your girlfriend?” To punctuate your point, you seat yourself, fully sheathing his every inch. “Huh? You like when they call me your little girlfriend?” He nods, only once, but it’s enough. Tenderly, your cup the nape of his neck, and use it as leverage for how you rock back and forth on his cock. His hands slide down your waist, over the folds of your hiked up dress, to grab at your ass. Gloves knead and smack at it, jiggling the flesh as you take your time in rolling your body on his cock.
“You—“ your own whimper interrupts you, his tip brushing the spongy spot inside of you from this angle. “—you think they know you’re fucking your little girlfriend in this fucking restroom?” At the mention, he claws into the globes of your ass, yanking you closer to him and consequently shoving himself impossibly deeper. A pitchy whine is drawn from you, and one of his hands comes to wedge in between you two. The tips of his fingers smooth out your lower abdomen, as if to let you know he’s right there. You can feel the tip of him right there, poking out. He didn’t have to say much for you to get the picture. Especially when he presses into it, bringing your g-spot right to his swollen head. You arch back with a gasp, stars like fireworks in your eyes as you chase that feeling. Faithfully, he keeps that pressure while you rock into it. His grip on your ass telling you: That’s right. That’s what I want from you. That’s a good little girl.
You’re supposed to be here in support of his newest movie; the premiere had been the talk of the media for weeks. And here you are in the public restroom of the theater, blowing it off so you can leave a cum stain on your boyfriend’s crotch.
#indy: drabbles#ch: noir#black noir smut#black noir x reader#black noir x reader smut#black noir x f!reader#black noir x f!reader smut#black noir x you#black noir x y/n#black noir imagine#black noir fic#black noir fanfic#black noir fanfiction#the boys smut#the boys x reader#the boys x you#the boys x y/n#the boys imagine#the boys fic#the boys fanfic#the boys fanfiction
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Rehab – Series Masterlist
Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F!Reader
Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.
Series Warnings: +18, enemies to friends to lovers (?), smut (a mix of rough, sweet, and dirty), tw: suicide attempt & sexual assault, violence, lots of drugs & drinking, strong language & derogatory terms, SB being his charming self at times, human!Soldier Boy aka soft!Ben, more warnings in individual chapters
A/N: Very excited to share this series with y’all! It’s a bit dark and rough in certain places while it’s hilarious and sweet in others. And weirdly, this series was inspired by MGK songs (see chapter titles). Don’t judge, tho. The lyrics and vibes fit, and I can’t control the muse, okay? 😝
Main Masterlist || Soldier Boy Masterlist
Prologue: rehab
Chapter 1: maybe
Chapter 2: papercuts
Chapter 3: why are you here
Chapter 4: 9 lives
Chapter 5: jawbreaker
Chapter 6: bad things
Chapter 7: make up sex
Chapter 8: sid & nancy
Epilogue: twin flame
C O M P L E T E
#rehab masterlist#soldier boy#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy series#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy fic#the boys fic#soldier boy fanfiction#the boys fanfiction#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy x you#soldier boy fanfic#soldier boy reader insert
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Like An Animal
~Left alone with Soldier Boy, Y/N has to try to hold her own against America's First Superhero and his deliciously dirty ideas...~
Ben (Soldier Boy) x F!Reader
2,854 Words
Warnings: NSFW, Cat and Mouse, Rough Sex, Breeding!Kink, Filthy and Delicious
Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works ~ Buy Me A Coffee ~ Feedback is Gold
Y/N thought she was safe when Butcher and Hughie left. Ben- Soldier Boy- Whatever The Fuck His Name Was- was calm, deep into his second bottle of whiskey and watching the news. Every so often he would laugh at something the reporter said or shake his head at a random commercial, yell at the screen as if they could hear him. He was high as a kite and flooded with booze, but he seemed to handle it well.
She watched from the sofa across the room as he rocked back on the creaky wooden chair at the table and stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth. As handsome as he was, he was pretty disgusting. She didn’t mind the trimmed beard and haircut, though. The loose gray sweat pants he wore weren’t turning her away either. Every time he moved, her gaze would unconsciously shoot right to his crotch.
It was clear Hughie hadn’t brought him any shorts.
The snake in his pants moved as the chair teetered on two legs and Y/N let out a heavy breath that caught his attention.
“You alright over there?” he growled, deep voice crackling in her ears.
She looked up, embarrassed, and felt her cheeks burn under his gaze. “Yeah. Whatever.” She turned away quickly and pretended to check her phone. “I’m fine.”
Ben grinned. “You sure are.”
Her stomach tensed. “Excuse me?”
The chair hit the floor with a thud as he sat up right. Green eyes fell over her body and Ben bit down into his bottom lip, checking her out. “I said, you’re hot.”
There was no way to deny the stream of warmth that trickled down her spine, but Y/N did her best to ignore it.
“Actually you said I was fine, but whatever. Go back to your burger.”
“Not hungry for that,” he teased, leaning forward and rubbing his giant palms down his thighs.
Her mouth watered and she swallowed it down quickly. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Am I?” He ran his tongue across his top teeth, glaring at her like a lion stalking a deer. “Been locked up for a few decades… I could use a little… release.”
Her heart raced.
“If you know what I mean…”
Y/N pushed away the threat of arousal and rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, I do. But I think breaking you out of your pod was all of the release you’re going to be getting.”
Ben tipped his head back a bit and laughed. Her eyes found his thick throat from across the room and her pussy clenched. She held her breath, desperate to calm down, but his stare was too strong, his presence too intoxicating suddenly.
“You know what I think?” he asked, pushing himself up to his feet.
Y/N shrugged. “I don’t really care-”
“I think you’re lying,” he answered for himself, slowly moving across the room. “In fact, I know you are.”
The closer he got, the faster her heart raced. Her hands trembled around her phone and she shoved them down into the cushions.
“And you’d know that how?”
Ben stopped short, bare toes digging into the ugly carpet. The long shadow in his sweatpants moved and Y/N’s eyes went right for it.
He grinned. “Because I can hear your heart pounding.” He reached out for her, long fingers hovering over her cheek. “I can see the sweat on your skin, the color bursting beneath…”
She sucked in a hard breath and the scent of him flooded her brain. Grease and cheap soap and something heavy underneath it all, something warm and smooth and utterly delicious.
Still, she tried to push it all away. “It’s just warm in here,” she whispered, barely able to move her tongue as his fingers landed on her cheek.
He brushed them downwards and over, gently plucking at her lips. “About to get a hell of a lot warmer too…”
He sounded so sure, so confident that he could get what he wanted that Y/N snapped out of her lustful stupor and slapped his hand away.
“You’re a pig,” she spat, jumping up from the couch and moving away from him. “You can’t just put your hands on me like that.”
Unphased, he smoothly spun on the spot to face her. “Can’t I?”
“No!”
The slight turn of his plump lips made her ears buzz and her nipples harden.
“I think I can…”
He took a step closer and Y/N shivered.
“You can fuck off is what you can do,” she warned, voice barely a gasp over the rush of blood in her head.
“I think I can fuck you.”
Violently, she shook her head and backed up. “Never.”
“Really?” He dipped his chin and countered her steps. “Because I can hear the wetness dripping from your pretty little pussy.”
Her jaw dropped. “That’s not- You can’t-”
Ben tapped his left ear. “Super hearing. Also, it’s written all over your face, doll.”
Y/N jolted when her back hit the wall, her entire frame stiffening as he inched closer. “Stay back.”
“And what are you gonna do if I don’t?”
His toes hit hers and he leaned in, placing his right hand on the wall beside her head.
“Can’t shoot me…”
His left hand mirrored the right and Y/N’s chest heaved with labored breaths as she found herself caged.
“Can’t out run me…”
The heat pushing off of him was nearly too much for Y/N to take and she stared up into his emerald eyes, wishing he would rip her apart.
“Can’t even move right now, can you?”
Y/N’s gaze fell from his eyes to his lips and she shook her head slowly.
He pressed in closer, the tip of his nose brushing lightly against hers.
“You’re stuck here with me and there’s nothing you can do about it. Those boys left you behind like an offering. A vestal fucking virgin just waiting to be destroyed.”
His hand slid from the wallpaper and landed on the side of her face. Y/N shuddered at the heat of his touch and stood frozen as he traced her jaw with one long finger.
“They-” She stammered, quickly losing the ability to think as the pad of his index finger reached her chin and dipped beyond the cliff. “They wanted me to watch you…”
Ben smiled softly and cocked his head to the side. His eyes were dark and vicious, his target set.
“That’s fine,” he whispered, lips drawing nearer as he fit his massive hand around her throat. “You can keep your eyes open.”
His lips were softer than she expected, framed by the bristling beard, and her eyes rolled shut as he forced his kiss upon her. Trembling, she shoved at his firm shoulders but it made no difference. He wouldn’t budge. His tongue slipped across her lips and Y/N moaned despite herself.
Ben took a breath and looked down at her with a sinister grin.
“I hate you,” she hissed.
“No,” he laughed, “I don’t think you do.”
Again he licked at her lips and this time she gave in, opening up for him as the grip on her delicate throat tightened. He squeezed and she gasped, eyes fluttering closed as his hot tongue plunged into her mouth.
His elbow buckled and Ben dropped his entire weight down over her, crushing her into the plaster. She struggled beneath him, squirming against his kiss, his heat, the smell of him, the taste. Her head was spinning when he grabbed her arms and tugged, lifting her clean off of her feet.
She fought for a breath, choking back a scream as he flung her down onto the messy bed. The sheets were askew, the pillows out of place. An empty bag of chips crushed beneath her back and Y/N flailed to catch her balance while the springs creaked.
“Well that finally shut you up.” Ben licked her kiss from his lips and tugged the jersey from his shoulders.
“Me?” Y/N crawled up to the headboard to steady herself. “You’re the one who hasn’t stopped talking.”
He chuckled under his breath and set one knee on the bed. “I’m about to…”
Every drop of sass and resistance in her died away when he fell to his hands and knees at her feet. The light sparked on the deep ridges of his shoulders and arms, shadows played along the thick ropes of his neck. Her stomach tightened and she let go, begging with wide eyes for him to have his way.
His big hand fell to her right ankle and Y/N sucked in a quick breath as he yanked her down to him. In one swift motion, she was lying helpless beneath him, trapped once more by his powerful arms.
He was stunning. Absolutely gorgeous and deadly and horrible and Y/N couldn’t last another second. She reached up, fingers twisting in the thin cotton of his undershirt. She tugged and he dipped down, nipping at her lips with a biting kiss that set her blood on fire.
“Fuck…”
The mattress shifted as he pushed a knee between her thighs. “Is that a request?”
Tiny fingers clawed at the tank top and Y/N ripped the fabric, tearing it at the collar. “I thought you were gonna shut the fuck up now-”
“So bitchy,” he breathed, licking at her lips. “I love it.”
Y/N pushed her hands up into his thick hair, pulling at the long locks while his suckling mouth traveled down her throat. He paused over her pulse and pressed his teeth threateningly over the throbbing artery.
“I could kill you, you know…”
His growling whisper made her body shake and her thighs clenched around his knee.
Her fingers tensed in his hair. “Kill me and the fun stops…”
He laughed against her collarbone and took a quick bite. “Maybe I’ll hold off then.”
Y/N yanked on his hair, lifting his face from the crook of her neck. “Good choice.”
Distracted by her bruising kiss, Ben let himself be moved. Y/N kicked with all her might and managed to roll him onto his back. He sank into the mattress and followed her with hungry eyes while she kicked off her jeans and straddled his trim waist. She pushed down on his dick and he hissed at the damp warmth that passed through his sweats. He kicked his knees up and knocked her forward into his arms.
“Slick,” she teased, tits crushed against his chest.
“What can I say? Some moves never go out of style.” His hands found her ass with a startling slap and he squeezed.
Y/N bit her lip and wiggled against him. “Why don’t you show me a few more?”
His fingers curled into the fleshly globes of her backside and Y/N moaned into his mouth at the sting of his blunt nails.
“My pleasure…”
His heavy touch slid up her spine as their tongues clashed and Ben ripped the shirt from her body with a growl. He snapped at her bra, breaking the clasp with a simple twist of his wrist, and bared his teeth like a wolf as her beautiful tits fell free.
She hovered above him, floating in and out of herself as he explored her flesh with is massive hands and perfect lips. When his hand slid beneath the cotton of her blue panties, Y/N jerked upwards and sat back, cradled by his firm thighs. The tip of his middle finger slipped through the slick line of her pussy and Y/N chewed her lip, her head falling back on her shoulders.
“Please…”
“Begging already?” he teased, pushing his finger in a little deeper. “This is gonna be fun.”
Her eyes snapped open and she glared down at him. “God, I wish I had a gag…”
He clicked his tongue and shoved his finger all the way in. “Kinky. I like it.”
Y/N huffed. “The gag’s for you, asshole.”
Ben smirked and tapped her clit with his thumb, making her shoulders quake.
“Not my thing, sweetheart,” he confessed, carefully watching the arousal flood her brain as he rubbed at her cunt. “But you know what I’d love to do?”
Breathless and vibrating with desire, Y/N struggled to answer. “What’s that?”
Ben bucked his hips and drove another thick finger into her. “I’d love to fill up this sweet little cunt and watch my cum drip down your thighs.”
Her eyes rolled back and her body fluttered around his fingers. “Fuck… please.”
He took in a deep breath. “You want that?”
She moaned, “yeah.”
“To drown in my cum-”
“Yes…”
He curled his fingers inside and sparks erupted behind her eyes. Y/N bore down on his hand and shook as the orgasm ripped through her.
“Gonna stuff a baby in you,” he grit.
Out of breath, she fell down onto his chest, palms slapping his skin. “Yes!”
He growled and she slapped him again, tiny hands no match for his superior flesh. Sitting back up, Y/N rolled her hips down onto his cock and hissed, feeling the hardness through the layers of clothing between them. She panted, jaw dropped and eyes hazy, rocking on her knees, rubbing herself over him.
“Do it,” she begged, nails dragging down the deep ridges of his torso.
He licked his lips and hooked his hands around her hip bones.
She grit her teeth and reached down, striking the side of his face. “Do it!”
Shocked, Ben sucked in a quick breath, eyes wild and impressed.
Again, she moved to slap him, gathering up every ounce of strength to try and make an impact. “I said, do it!” Her arm swung through the air, but Ben caught her wrist at the last second, roughly jerking her to the side and flinging her onto the bed.
He was on her in a flash, rudely yanking at the delicate fabric covering her soaked cunt. She gasped at the sting as the pull of the elastic dug into her skin, and reached up, locking a tight hand at the nape of his neck. She pulled herself up and licked into his mouth, desperate to have every bit of him inside of her.
He kicked legs, tugging down the ruined gray sweats and swiftly fit himself between her thighs. The tip of his cock grazed over her swollen slit and Y/N tossed her head back, eyes mere slits as they stared upwards.
Ben’s upper lip twitched as her heat enveloped him. He went slowly, savoring the first thrust, inching his way into her tight hole.
“Fuck…” Her muscles contracted; entire body pulling in on itself as he invaded. “Do it… show me what being the best feels like.”
The color rose in his face and a slick smirk splayed across his lips. He jerked his hips and slammed all the way in, rocking the metal bedframe into the wall.
Y/N groaned at the feeling, packed full with his incredible cock. “Fuck!”
“That what you wanted?” he asked, face hovering over hers, hair falling down into his glowing eyes. “To be fucked like the little whore you are?”
He pulled out and slammed back in, making her eyes bulge and her breath stop. She clawed at his shoulders, holding on as the pleasure ran through her.
“Yes!” she screamed. “Like the whore I am… fuck!”
The louder she screamed, the harder he thrust. Y/N struggled to hold on, but the force of his movements, the rough piston of his hips knocked her out of her head and she lay limb beneath him, wrecked with pleasure as he tore another orgasm out of her.
She clenched down on him and Ben roared. He pushed up on his massive arms and quickened his pace, fucking her through the spasm as it tugged him to the edge.
“Do it,” she moaned, “fill me up… fucking do it!”
The moment snapped inside of him and Y/N felt him shudder. His body stiffened, his hips locked.
“That’s it,” she whispered, wrapping her legs around him, keeping him in place. “Give it.”
She felt the heat flow into her, heard the sharp, stunted grunt as he came. He pulled out and she shivered feeling a stream of fluid leaking from her aching cunt.
“You’re like a fucking animal,” she gasped, finally able to breathe as he rolled over onto his back.
He tossed an arm behind his head and rubbed the other down his chest, grinning proudly. “Just like riding a bike,” he laughed.
Stunned and a little dizzy, Y/N turned onto her side and stared at him. He had barely broken a sweat, but was still glowing, sated and momentarily amused.
“Was that really your first time in forty years?” she asked, amazed at the pleasure he’d wrung from her body.
Ben looked over and shrugged. “First- yes,” he grinned and reached for her, his giant hand eclipsing the side of her face as he closed in for a kiss. “Last? Not by a long shot…”
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I Get To Love You
Homelander x Reader
Request: can we get homelander being reassured by yn? like after jeaousy or him feeling bad?
Warning: Swearing, violence
A/N: It's been a minute since I've had the energy to write, so hopefully this is alright and fits well enough!
Y/N rolled her eyes and shrugged at the supe who appeared to be hitting on her. She must be wrong, since everyone knew she essentially belonged to Homelander, but still, he seemed overly talkative and friendly with her despite it.
"Oh come on, flying is the best", he assured her, leaning in and touching her knee, a bright smile on his face. Y/N gave him an awkward smile, "It's alright, it mostly makes me nervous when Homelander insists on us flying", she laughed slightly, hoping he took the hint. He did not.
"Maybe he just doesn't know how to do it properly", he teased, and Y/N readjusted in her seat, removing his hand from her knee, "I assure you, that's not it", she continued, looking around uncomfortably. "Well, how would you know if no on else has ever flown you around?", he teased, and she flinched when she heard Homelander's booming voice, "Perhaps the same way you know you don't want to die today. Just a feeling, right?", Homelander challenged and Y/N struggled to breathe. She should've left, should've done anything but allow this idiot to continue hitting on her.
"No disrespect, I just figured everyone should enjoy flight, y'know?", the idiot responded, only seeming slightly uncomfortable. "And what makes you think you could show her anything I couldn't?", Homelander challenged, his hands on the table, leaning down into the idiot's face. Y/N saw a slight flash of something that almost looked like challenge behind the idiot's eyes. She hoped she was wrong. She wasn't certain of his powers, but she knew there was no way he was as strong as Homelander.
"Well, we are different supes", the idiot shrugged, standing up, meeting Homelander's murderous gaze.
"Um, yeah, you guys are, and I think I should leave with my supe", Y/N interjected, hoping to end whatever was about to happen.
"No, no honey, let him continue, since he's so convinced he can do things for you that I can't", Homelander laughed, a terrifying grin on his face, but the idiot didn't seem afraid.
"I'm sure plenty of guys can. A woman can never truly know what she enjoys until she's experienced it with different people", the idiot responded, clearly teasing Homelander now. Even the comment made Y/N's stomach turn, it was gross, and it was stupid.
Homelander's grin didn't falter, instead, it grew wider as he flew at the idiot and held him to the wall by his throat, "You think because there's people around that I won't kill you?". he spat, though slightly thrown back back the idiot's ability to get out from his hand and swing at him.
Any amusement that Homelander had was now gone, and what was behind his face was pure evil. He quickly used his laser vision, and while the idiot at first was able to dodge it, he was quickly hit and dropped down, with plenty of things destroyed in the process, "This is Vought fucking tower, I own this place!'' Homelander laughed before picking up what was left of the bleeding idiot and slamming his fist into his head over and over and over.
The room had been cleared, and once Homelander dropped the idiot, Y/N approached him, grabbing his arm. Absolute silence. Blood on Homelander and the walls, as well as several destroyed desks and walls. She was pretty certain the entire floor was cleared.
Homelander turned and looked down at her, "Why do you make me do these things?", he sighed, annoyed. "Me?", she exclaimed, shocked that he was blaming her. "Yes. You. You could've come and gotten me, could've done anything other than allow him to continue insulting me", he spat, glaring down at her. Y/N took a breath, "I didn't want to cause problems. I'd hoped that he'd get the hint and leave. I brought you up repeatedly", she defended, but his face remained unmoved. "Oh, I'm sure, and I'm sure he loved the chase, the same way you loved the attention", Homelander accused with a sigh, as if he knew exactly what had happened.
"That's not it!", Y/N defended, "I just wanted him to leave. I didn't want any of this. I just want you!", she practically yelled, needing him to actually listen instead of letting his insecurities get the best of him. He raised his eyebrow, then looked around, as if he was looking for an answer, "Homelander, I love you. I only want you. I'm lucky to get to love you", she assured him, grabbing his hand and looking up at him adoringly. He made eye contact, slightly softened now. "I'm sorry I didn't just leave when he started talking to me. I assumed I was misreading the situation, and I was wrong. You're the only person I want attention from", she spoke softly and began stroking his cheek.
Homelander licked his lip and nodded, breathing deeply, "I don't want anyone else thinking they can have you", he said when he finally spoke, turning his face into her hand and softly kissing her palm. "They won't. I'm not going anywhere either. You haven't deserved everything you've been put through - the people using you, abandoning you. I just want you, no one else. I want to be here for you, I want to be here with you", she assured him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.
Homelander hugged Y/N back, his eyes welled up, but not allowing himself to cry. He buried his face into the top of her head, closing his eyes, "I'll kill anyone who gets between us", he smiled, relaxing his body and just enjoying holding her. Y/N nodded and nuzzled deeper into his chest, ignoring the blood she was certain was getting on her face. This was her life now, and it was her job to take care of Homelander, for better or for worse.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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#my writing#writing#fanfiction#fic#homelander#homelander x reader#homelander fic#homelander imagine#the boys#antony starr#x reader#request#reader insert#homelander reader insert#the boys fic#the boys fanfiction#supes#villain
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• Soldier Boy:
→ Different World, Different Words.
→ Rugrats, Pool, and Grilling Techniques.
→ Bad Mouth.
→ Home.
→ Hot Under The Helmet.
→ Hush Hush Behind The Shield.
#the boys masterlist#butcher the boys#kimiko the boys#frenchie the boys#the boys#the boys fanfiction#the boys fic#the boys fanfic#the boys fandom#billy butcher the boys#billy butcher x reader#billy butcher#soldier boy imagine#soldier boy x you#soldier boy#starlight#hughie campbell#mother's milk#homelander
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