Positions

positions

cw: nsfw, gn.reader, some size kink

includes: homelander, butcher, frenchie, black noir, hughie, solider boy, MM

Homelander - likes when you’re on top. Don’t get it wrong he still has control but, he likes watching how you pant and struggle to take him all. Besides he gets a nice view of your chest while he bounces you on his cock. Absolutely bucks up into you to see how you squeal and grip his shoulders. He also likes it because he doesn’t have to do much work, he’s a supe and works hard ya know?

Black Noir - ass man. Loves doggy style the most. Grips the fat of your ass while he just plows into you. Smoothes his hand on your hips to bring you down on him over and over. Lives to see how you flutter and clench around him. Will push your face into the sheets and leave bruises on your ass.

Butcher - reverse cowgirl all the way. Another ass man who likes to watch you take his cock. You just look so good this way, and he likes how you lean forward to grab at his thighs. Smokes while he fucks you, puffing out while he spreads you open so he can watch how you take him. Makes comments on how slutty you are.

MM - missionary. The classic choice but he loves it. Props himself on his elbows so he can watch your face while he pounds into you. He likes to tuck his face into your neck, nipping it and making you squirm from his beard on your skin. Sometimes gets so into it he’ll lift up your legs onto his shoulders to reach deeper.

Soldier boy - mating press?!? Mating press all the way. Folds you up and stuffs you full, can go for hours. Ben just pushes your legs up and gives you deep strokes that make you starry-eyed and and breathless. He gets so deep you push his chest and he just mocks you from above. Thanks to the V he’s got endless stamina and besides, he hasn’t been able to pump someone full in decades so good luck.

Frenchie - y’all already know this man likes to be dommed. He’s down for absolutely anything and everything. Doesn’t matter if you’re holding his wrists while you fuck yourself with his cock or if you’re fucking him. He practically loves every positions, but he does enjoy 69 a lot.

Hughie - sweet sweet boy likes when he’s tucked behind you. Its so nice because your thighs are clenched together and it’s makes you tighter. The fucks lazy and soft and he just tucks your underwear to the side so he can slip in. You’re clawing at the mattress while he just does slow thrusts. He’ll kiss the back of your neck while he holds you.

i NEED more of predator loving the size difference between himself and you. I NEED IT.

A/N: Predator x F!Reader. Sex in a prison! Size difference. Pain kink. Semi-public smut.

From behind the steel bars of his prison, T'atha glared at the Android. He had thought it ooman until he had caught the subtle click and whir of machinery beneath its skin. 

"It'd be best if you behaved," it suggested before gesturing to his mate leaning against his arm. "We wouldn't want to introduce her to what we've captured downstairs."

T'atha did not reply but continued to stare flatly. He would not waste his energy. The thing was incapable of fear.

Though he could feel your fingers tremble around his forearm, you showed the Android not a hint of panic. You pinned it with an indifferent expression, and T'atha's chest bloomed with pride.

He had been captured, which, alone, was an embarrassment. But to add insult to injury, you had also been taken. Unthinkable. It was supposed to be a simple task. They were to slip aboard the USCSS Atlas to retrieve stolen eggs from one of his clan's Chiva locations.

However, once you and T'atha had boarded the ship and snuck to the lower level, it had become apparent that one of those eggs had hatched. There was a full-grown kiande amedha loose and very well-fed. The floors and walls were wet with blood. Ooman bodies torn to shreds. Glistening red-pink flesh and the stink of waste. T'atha had not hesitated before dragging you away from the slaughter, but it had been too late. 

The doors to all exits had been locked, and they were cornered like rats.

Several Androids had entered, and while T'atha had removed three of their heads, it had not been enough. They'd struck him with electric batons until his skin and muscle burned and smoked. He had attempted to cover you, but they'd ripped him away.

Your face still bore their marks. A hideous cut slithered across your temple, and T'atha worried it would become infected. Your kind was susceptible to contamination and you did not heal as quickly as Yautja. Last hunt, it had taken you weeks to recover from a broken wrist. He had been deeply distressed over it though he did not tell you that. He was supposed to be your strength, your pillar of courage in dire situations.

He glanced down at where you rested your face against his arm. Your body radiated heat and musky sweat. It was a very ooman flavor and one that he had begun to cherish.

He tucked you closer to him, helping you burrow into his torso as he cradled you possessively.

He had to be strong for you now.

***

A few days had passed and his brethren had not arrived. There was no doubt that his clan would have begun to look for them once their ship had failed to return. It was possible that the Atlas might have traveled too far into space, where the signal from the tracking device implanted in his neck was weak. It could take his brothers a considerable amount of time, and time was something they did not have. 

He was not optimistic about their captor's motives, but he had picked up a few things in the scattered chatter between the Androids and the remaining oomans beyond the prison door. He learned that they had managed to secure the black serpent and were going to deliver it to their superiors. In addition to the beast, the ship's crew would either offer you and T'atha to the leaders on their home planet or feed them to the serpent as incubators. 

With his enhanced hearing, he'd picked up many terms like cross-species experimentation, which did not bode well. 

"What will they do to us?" you asked, nudging his bicep with your cheek. He could smell your hair, the intense floral aroma from the oils you bathed in. It was only muddled by the sharp clash of rust due to the dried blood along your forehead. 

"Study," he replied curtly. He did not want to frighten you and was sure that he would get them out even if his brothers did not arrive in time. Failure would not be an option. 

"Study us?"

He nodded. 

"But I'm just human."

He lowered his head, grazing his jaw across your temple. "You are a mate of a Yautja."

"So?" you grumbled. "Is it because I can take a huge cock?"

Chuckling despite himself, he shook his head and pinched your hip. "Yes. Exactly, little one." He tugged you closer and felt a twinge of guilt at how clammy your skin was. He was constantly checking your temperature and it seemed like you shifted from too hot to freezing by the hour. "Only strong females can handle Yautja."

You smiled, squeezing his knee. He exhaled deeply, grateful you were in a lighter mood. He did not want to voice his true thoughts about what these Androids intended. He straightened his back against the wall, spreading his legs out to stretch his muscles. His posture was ramrod straight - fully aware of everything beyond the walls of their prison.

You had gone silent again, your eyes locked on the sealed door as you chewed on your lower lip. It was a nervous habit he could not break you from, and he worried you'd scar it. He was quite partial to that extra plush tissue around your mouth.

"You must relax," he crooned, stroking a paw down your spine. You shuddered and abruptly rolled onto your back to look up at him.

"Where are the others?" Your voice wastight in your throat. "Tahren? A'ta? A'kaand? They wouldn't leave us like this."

"It's a long journey," he explained. "We are in the Outer Veil."

You scrubbed a hand over your face and whimpered. For a moment, he was worried you would begin to cry. He did not like that. It was a disadvantage for your species. You could quickly shift from joy to terror to profound sadness. Your emotions ran you. 

He would have to remedy it.

Slowly, he crawled forward, covering your body with his own. He met your gaze, his enormous hand palming your cheek. "Rest." His tone was gentle as he spoke. He wanted to calm the heart he could hear thumping wildly beneath your breast. "You must sleep and gather your strength." You blew out a breath, lifting yourself onto your elbows until you were an inch from his face. Your expression was one that he knew too well. Stubborn. 

"I can't."

He drew back, sighing. "Why?"

"There's a fucking xenomorph on this ship, and we are stuck in a cage." Your brow creased as you regarded him with disbelief. "No weapons. No armor. We are dead."

You had fair points, but he'd never admit it. Instead, he would opt to distract you.

Huffing, he wrapped his arms around your waist and bound you to his chest. It was a cheap move on his part. He knew that. You instantly softened the second he began to purr, melting into him. He would not have you terrified or full of worry. It would not serve him. He had to focus, and he would not be able to if you fell apart. 

"The serpents won't touch you," he muttered as he stroked the crown of your skull. Compared to his own, you had such a tiny head. In his arms, it was alarmingly clear how small you were. You were formidable in a fight but against a kiande amedha? You'd be broken or worse - 

T'atha bristled at the thought of one stabbing you with its ovipositor; your chest cracked open. In the quiet darkness of their prison, he held you tighter.  

***

T'atha awoke with you still in his arms. He must have dozed off. Shame coursed through him. He could not afford to sleep, but he'd been awake for days - since they'd been thrown in here.

He blinked through the remaining dregs of his drowsiness. It clung to him like cobwebs, before his vision gradually cleared.

The room was cloaked in shadow apart from the occasional ping of light from the machinery surrounding them. He was certain this place doubled as a lab or medical facility. He studied the walls, the blinking screens, and tools. Nothing he could reach or use as a weapon.

Suddenly, T'atha felt your small hand between his legs. He startled, nearly bucking you off of him. 

"What are you doing?" he hissed, realizing that you had removed your leggings and were bare in his lap.

"Distraction," you replied as you nuzzled your face against his abdominal muscles. Your tongue's warm, damp pressure gliding against his skin before you drew away. 

He grabbed you by the upper arms, jerking you up. He could easily see you in the dark. Your eyes were heavy-lidded, and your mouth parted. He could smell that you were wet. "Now?"

"I want to feel you," you whispered, a note of desperation beneath the words. "I want to…just once…what if they kill-"

He growled - effectively cutting you off. "Do not doubt me. I will get us out and take every one of their heads for it."

"I know," you whined, clutching his neck to pull him towards you. You brushed your mouth along his mandibles before darting your tongue against his own. This was not the time for it, but he understood that your kind often required a sense of intimacy during moments of chaos or fear. He was surprised you'd even be willing to mate in a place where they were being watched. 

Unfortunately, he was not one to deny you especially when you begged as sweetly as you did. 

Perhaps, he could sate you with his tongue and fingers? Perhaps, that would be enough.

In the far corner of his mind, he knew it wouldn't be. The second he could smell you, it was over. It always was.

Without a word, he encircled an arm around your waist and forced you onto your back. You yelped, your fingers digging into his shoulders for leverage. He slid between your thighs, hooking your leg around his waist to keep you spread. Your mouth quirked, the whites of your eyes and teeth bright in the shadows. He would consider you beautiful. You were soft and strange and small. Your features pleased him just as the small ways you exuded bravery did. They were what drew him to you to begin with.

The first moment he had seen you, you had been slick with blood. Your body crouched in front of a small Yautja pup. You had had no alliance with his species. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and yet you had still protected him. 

Later, he would learn that your ship had crashed on a hunting ground. Your superiors had been experimenting on various life forms, including the young Yautja suckling. You'd used the chaos of the crash to save the child, killing whoever got in your way. His clan had offered you sanctuary in payment. 

Now, his gaze raked over you as he brushed his thumb across the plump of your cheek. Yes - you were enticing and honorable and always hungry for him. 

"T'atha," you whimpered, and he braced his arm above your head; his other hand slid beneath your thigh. He lazily scratched at the smooth skin before pushing it back so that your knee hit your chest.

"We do not have the oil," he reminded you. It was a necessary tool for them in moments like this. It allowed you to take him easier, making you hot, soaked, and slightly numb. There were a few instances that they had gone without it, and it was usually when you were loose and drunk with c'ntlip.

You curled a finger around one of his dreads, tugging it so that it sparked the sensitive nerves at his scalp. It bloomed outward before lighting down his back. He was aroused now, his cock hard and unyielding as it rubbed against the folds of your sex. At this point, he would not be able to stop if he tried.

"I don't care," you stated. "I want to feel you. 

Beneath his belt, he gripped himself, pushing his hips forward to drag the head of his cock against your cunt. "Brave one," he praised, rutting lazily between your thighs. "Such a brave girl."

You shivered at his approval, and he began to breach you inch by inch. Almost immediately, your brows met, and your lower lip sucked between your teeth as you inhaled sharply. He was barely inside you, your tight heat only beginning to stretch around him. He stopped and rubbed the side of his mandible against your face. "Relax," he murmured. "You are too tense. I will not fit."

He eased his pelvis back, the tip catching on the entrance of your cunt before he pushed halfway in. You shrieked, your nails biting into the meat of his shoulders. He paused, raising himself and glancing between them to observe where they were joined. He was barely inside you. Though his length glimmered in your wetness, it was not enough. He withdrew, and you made a frustrated noise as you reached for him.

Of course. Even though it hurt, you were determined to complete it.

Wordlessly, he knocked your hands away from him before sliding down your body, hitching your knees over his shoulders. "I will take care of you, little one." He pinned his palm to your belly to hold you still as he purred against your thigh, scraping a tusk along the soft meat of it. He could smell you - the flesh of your sex dark and dripping and swollen for him. It took every ounce of his self-control not to flip you onto your hands and knees and fuck you senseless. "You trust me?"

***

You nearly levitated off the cold, metal floor when T'atha plunged his tongue inside you. It was too much and not enough at once. The sharp edge of his jaws scraped your tender skin, but never enough to pierce it. He lapped at your pussy, sliding the muscle of it from your entrance to your clit. Gingerly, he introduced one of his fingers and then a second. They were thick, calloused and powerful and he was careful when he used them. He moved them slowly, scissoring and petting until you were stretched open. His hand on your belly held you down as he licked you to a climax. It shuddered through you, made you go temporarily blind. He could make you come in seconds with only his fingers and tongue. He'd turned it into a game, a competition of sorts, as if conquering your ooman body held the same thrall as completing his Chiva. He was a brilliant strategist in all facets of his life.

He was beautiful in the way that a giant crocodile was - a bull shark. He dwarfed you with his height and his width; the green-blue scales of his hide that dragged over your flesh.

Even if he was barely touching you, the sight of him crouched between your legs could get you off. His feral dark eyes danced over your form, raking along your tits or belly or your cunt. He loved grazing the dull tips of his claws along your nipple, marveling at the way it beaded and caused you to arch. His long tubular dreads tickled your hips and when you fisted them, he growled like a beast.

In this tiny prison, he was merely a giant in a cage. He filled your vision, wrapped himself around you until you were engulfed by him and the safety he promised. As he sat back on his heels, you forgot to breathe. He was a sight - an Apex predator that had just drank from your cunt as if it was nectar. Your juices coated the lower half os his face. The flickering green and red lights of the machinery, accentuated the rippling muscles of his torso.

You don't know why you asked for this. You were scared. Hormonal. You'd been off for weeks, and this situation felt direr than any others. You trusted him to save you, but nothing was certain. You wanted to be close to him; this was the only way you knew how. 

Lazily, he crawled up your body like an enormous cat. He grazed the side of his face against your own, a deep purr rumbling from his chest. He was molten-heat, skin like the sun, and you clung to it in the frigid, medicinal-smelling room. "The Yautja life is rubbing off on you, my female," he rasped in a rough voice. His fingers moved between your legs, teasing and dipping inside you. "You long to be fucked where they can see us. You do not care?"

"No," you whisper. You didn't. You'd allowed him to take you in front of his brothers once. The both of you drunk off the hunt, and the adrenaline and too much c'ntlip. "They'll be dead soon, anyway," you added as you nipped his jaw. 

He grunted, rutting against the tender flesh of your cunt. He was unbearably hard, and you hungered for it. The pain. The pleasure. The way he could hurt you terribly, but always straddled the line. He made you feel like a precious piece of weaponry in his hands, stroked and touched and held close.

"They will be," he agreed as he began to sink into you. You gasped, clutching at his waist. He was all muscle and unyielding flesh. Your nails bit into his ribs, and it encouraged him. "Relax," he said before lowering his chest, so it crushed your breasts. His heart thumped rhythmically as though trying to mellow out the bird-flutter of your own. He offered you soft, clicking noises - the sound soothing your agitation as he slid deeper and deeper until finally he was buried to the hilt. 

You were speechless. It felt like he was hitting the back of your throat. The pressure inside of you expanded, the tip of him nudging the curve of your womb. You swallowed, screwing your eyes shut as you bit the inside of your mouth through the ache of him. 

He gripped your chin. "No," he tutted. "Open your eyes. I want you to know that it is me who is claiming you."

You did as he asked, even though it was silly. As if it could have been anyone else nearly splitting you in half. 

He chuffed as he began to rock his hips, his thrusts shallow and cautious. "I want you to watch," he clarified further, his pupils eating away at the green of his eyes. "Your cunt will know no other than me."

You nodded, head dropping back against the ground. It hurt - pain shooting up the crown of your skull, but it was nothing compared to how he opened you up. Every snap of his hips branded you, making room for his cock in the small clutch of your heat.

You reached between your legs and felt the flesh of your pussy taut around his thick shaft. You were impaled - entirely at his mercy. He sped up his pace, one hand cupping your ass to lift you higher so he could angle himself down into the mouth of your sex. His strokes steadily became long and powerful. You felt pushed to your limit, your face burning with exertion as he pounded you against the ground. You reached above your head and clasped the steel bars of the cage to hold yourself steady. The space echoed with the squelching noises of your body wetly accepting him. You had outgrown any shame regarding your sex life with T'atha. He had bent you into nearly impossible positions. He could lift you like you weighed nothing, hold you against a wall and fuck you senseless. 

He said what he meant; there was no innuendo, no hinting. He was blunt about his desires just as he was blunt about everything else.

"Let me mount you, little one. You are tempting me."

"I want to lick you again. Get on your back."

He was especially insatiable after a hunt. Only afterward, of course, when he was full of adrenaline, his heart hammering in his throat, and both of you were cut and filthy. He'd bend you over and fuck you until you collapsed, then turn you onto your side, lift your thigh, and slide home again. During a hunt, he was still as a statue, an unshakeable force. He never lost focus of his prey even when you grew bored. He could crouch on a single tree branch for days on end as he surveyed the hunting ground.

But that was simply the Yautja way. 

"Those serpents will not touch you," he snarled into your ear, warm breath fanning over your cheek as he fucked you "I will take their skulls for you..."

You released a high-pitched noise on a fierce stroke of his cock, and it aroused him further. Abruptly, he sat back on his heels and hauled you up with him so you could straddle his lap and wrap your legs around his waist. He held you as he thrust upward, spearing into your tiny body and hitting an even softer, wetter part of you. You croaked, fingers scrambling until you threw your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest. You were a doll at this point. Helpless and limp and at his mercy.

"Do not go quiet on me now, mate," he crooned as he pawed between your legs, the pads of his fingers brushing the bead of your clit before slipping against your folds that were stretched around him. Immediately, the pleasure burst through the whole of your pelvis. Your cunt clamped down on him, your back arching in his embrace. "There," he said, trilling in a way that coaxed you, pulling you closer. "Perhaps, I will finally fuck you into exhaustion."

You could do nothing, but nod and then whine his name like a broken record. You were a mess. He teased your pleasure out, a climax followed by another—small spikes of raw sensation in your core as you flexed around him. 

He changed positions again, flipping you onto your knees, hand on your lower back as he forced your cheek to the floor. He entered you in a single stroke, his size still shocking regardless of how wet and fucked out you were. His hips rammed against your ass, his grip harsh on the nape of your neck to pin you. His cock pulsed inside the narrow channel of your cunt - thrumming with the same fury as his heartbeat - as your own. He was reaching his end; you could hear it in his grunts, the deep, unsteady breathing. 

When he came, he growled out your name and it sounded utterly primal in the way his tongue dipped over the letters. He had told you once that sex with his oomani-di had been unexpected. 

"Your body brings only pleasure as if it was made for it," he rumbled, dragging his tusks along your shoulder. "Soft and wet and tight. Yautja mating is nothing like this...nothing at all."

You glanced over your shoulder, blinked up at him, utterly spent. When he eased himself out of you, there was the rush of his spend. You slid your hand down between your legs and felt it. It was warm, and your cunt was swollen and aching. Even so your skin remained on fire, there was a strong need to be rinsed in ice. He gingerly shifted you onto your back, squeezing your hips before once more blanketing you with his body. He nuzzled your jaw, the side of your neck. You longed for him even as he bore his weight above you, his abdominal muscles tensing against your stomach.

"Did I hurt you?" he murmured as his hand found yours against your sex. His thumb grazed your folds tenderly. It was always surprising when T'atha treated you like a fine instrument, desperate to ensure you did not break. It was why he was covering you with his body now, using his hide as protection when you were at your most vulnerable.

"No," you replied though you'd be sore for days. After a second, you added mischievously: "I think we could go again-"

"You jest!" he returned, his tone rubbed in disbelief. He slapped you lightly on the ass. "Are you ill? Surely - you cannot -"

"I'm joking," you replied, and T'atha narrowed his eyes and flared his mandibles. Humor often went above Yautja heads.

"You're impossible-"

Suddenly, a siren erupted in the room. Emergency lights flared - coating them both in red. 

"Either your brothers are here, or the Xeno has escaped," you sighed as you reached for your leggings. 

A voice sounded over the intercom that you recognized. A'ta. Beneath his gravelly timbre, you could hear the dying gasp of the captors unlucky enough to have been caught by the other Yautja. You hoped they'd left some for T'atha or he'd be a nightmare for weeks.

"Brother," he greeted warmly. "Only you would waste precious time copulating with your oomani-di instead of planning your escape."

You crossed your arms over your chest. "That fuck knows my damn name."

Ignoring your remark, T'atha scowled at A'ta's insult. "He is mistaken. I had a plan."

You patted him on the bicep. "I know you did."

Price sketches

Brian Van Holt as Bo Sinclair in House of Wax (2005) 10/??

↳ ageless/blank blogs dni

18+ content, vaginal sex, slight 🤏🏽 breeding kink

dick grayson who knows he’s not supposed to cum inside you, and he won’t, but the way your cunt squeezes and spasms around his cock after every thrust has both of you seeing stars. you’re both tipsy and horny as fuck, panties lazily pulled to the side while he pistons into you atop the marble countertop.

“fuckkk,” he draws out, tugging your head towards him by your sore and bruised up neck while another hand forces a more intense arch into your back. “you looked so good- so fucking good tonight-“ dick groans into the glistening skin of your shoulder, “goddamn, you’ll be the death of me.” you’re mewling into his neck, biting into his flesh to litter patterns along his skin and the way he buries himself inside you, forcing you to take every inch, only has your teeth digging deeper. he’s been pussy whipped for all of ten minutes, and it only gets better worse from here.

“‘m gonna cum- shit,” he warns in an almost whiny tone, finger tips practically lodged into the fat of your thigh and ripping the elastic of your tights. if you weren’t so hazed, so fucked up from the way his cock stretches you out, then you might care. you need him so bad though, need him impossibly closer to you, deeper inside you- you’re so out of it all you can do is keen at him, baby blue acrylics dragging scarlet red down his back. “tryna make me blow my load,” he’d groan into your ear with a breathless laugh, moving to slip out of your cunt.

“give it to me,” you gasp, gripping at his bicep and shoulder hard enough to stop him from leaving. “inside. please.” there’s an almost crazed look about him now, panting like a dog with blown out eyes, almost pleading you.

“baby- sweetheart,” he huffs, prying his eyes from the lewd view of your cunt threatening to pull him back in. “don’t do this to me.” without a second thought your legs interlock around his waist, mindless babbles of how badly you need him filling his ears and damn near putting him in a trance as his forehead bumps into your own. it doesn’t take much convincing before dick grayson’s filling you up with his cock and cum, deeper and deeper inside you until he’s moaning at the sight of himself leaking around his dick and your pussy lips. a few more staggered thrusts and he pauses, leaves frantic open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, and huffs in awe. god, the scene is shameful; and neither of you even have the sensibility to care.

still, the way you roll your hips- the way he’s enthralled by the view of it all… it’s no surprise that all he had the right mind to do was slide you off the countertop and flip you around, not even bothering to slip out of your cunt before his pace continues. the soft clap of your ass against his pelvis and your drawn out keens has him spiraling, and in turn has you writhing beneath him. it’s like time itself had stopped, come to find out that by the time you’ve relocated your affairs at least twice- it’s near sunrise. the fatigue hits both of you—though it’s heavier on your body—dozing off on his shoulder as he carries you to the tub. ❧

When I Get My Hands On You. (Soldier Boy Fic).

Soldier Boy/Ben x F!Reader 18+

Summary: Slight AU + 'Still Awake'. After everything, Vault 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 Vault's 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, Vault'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, Vault 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 Vault 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, Vault’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 Vaught.” 

“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!