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starsbies · 5 months

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Hungry For Your Love (Coriolanus x !Plinth Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, drugging, drinking, Coriolanus is his own warning, jealousy, breeding kink, manipulation, forced pregnancy, virginity loss, forced marriage (lmk if i missed some)

divider by @cafekitsune

porn w some plot or when coriolanus decides he wants you.

18+ only MDNI

wc - 4.4k

Coriolanus wouldn’t deny all the things he had in his mind. About all the things he would do to you. Especially in this very moment of time.

You were sitting right next to him at the dinner table. Ever since he got rid of Sejanus–and became the new son of the Plinths–he had to eat dinner with the Plinths every two or so weeks. Although he found their district status to be quite deplorable, their wealth wasn’t. And to be frank you weren’t either.

To Coriolanus, you were the epitome of class and obedience. Well, almost, the way your leg was bouncing wasn't classy at all. Under different circumstances he would just put his hand on your thigh to stop you. Then he’d slowly make his hand upwards and-

“Coriolanus, what do you think?”

The old man broke Coryo out of his train of thought. Suddenly his mind was going a million miles per minute. What were they talking about? Something about a project for.. No, that's not right. A new building? For the University maybe?

Then you spoke up, “Well Pa, personally I think a new cafeteria for the Academy is long overdue. It would’ve been nice to not have such a beat up cafeteria when I was a student.”

He looked at you in the corner of his eye. You had a strand of your hair tucked behind your hair and your leg was no longer bouncing. Had you purposely saved him?

Then he remembered that he still needed to answer Strabo. Coriolanus cleared his throat, “I think I’d have to agree with Y/N. The cafeteria dates back before the war so I believe it’s definitely overdue for a new building.”

Strabo nodded in acknowledgement before continuing to bite into his steak. Coriolanus decided to do the same and then took another peek at you. You looked so gorgeous to him, well you do everyday—but today was a treat.

You wore a red dress that went to your knees. It covered just enough to be considered modest. Your hair was down but he could see your dangling pearl earrings. He noted how you’d make a perfect bride for him. Beautiful, graceful, and heiress to the family business and fortune. In exchange he would give you status.

Together you two would be the elite of the elite.

“So Coryo,” the blond internally winced. He hated when Mrs. Plinth called him that. “How's it going being Dr. Gaul’s understudy?”

“Well, there’s a lot of work, you know.” He took a deep breath, “We’ve been working on remaking the Jabberjays, since they can’t reproduce on their own we have to make a whole new species of them. We want to use them in the next Hunger Games so-”

A sudden chair screeching interrupted him. He turned and saw you standing. You excused yourself from the table, claiming you needed to finish writing an essay. Coriolanus wasn’t dumb, he knew why you really left. Though you’re very different from your brother there were also some ways the two of you were similar. Your distaste towards the Hunger Games was something that he’d have to help you get over if you’re to be the first lady of Panem.

Coriolanus waited a few moments before also excusing himself and he found himself making his way to your room. As he started nearing your room he started asking himself, what was he doing? What would he say when you asked him why he was here?

He couldn’t just proclaim you as his wife and tell you to get over it. Not yet, anyway.

He eventually came to the conclusion that it was probably best to just leave. Grandma'am and Tigris were waiting anyway.

That night Coriolanus had dreamt of you. That in itself wasn’t really a rare occurrence by any means, but the things you told him—the things you did to him—in his dreams was what made him wake up rock hard and sweaty. You really are such a tease.

After a few seconds of laying in bed, Coriolanus decided that since a certain problem won’t go away any time soon it was time to get his day started. Once he stood up he nearly started to make his own bed. A bad habit of his. Before the Plinth’s started providing everything he needed, Coriolanus always had to make his own bed. He always had to clean up for himself. Now he has Avoxes to do that for him. Old habits do die hard.

When Coriolanus stepped into the bathroom he wasn’t surprised to see that the bath wasn’t drawn for him like usual. He was up way earlier than usual. He sighed and turned on the water. He started undressing and then checked the water temperature. Once he decided the water was warm enough he slowly started to insert himself into the tub.

Once he was fully submerged, he closed his eyes and eased his body. He recounted the images from his dream and subconsciously his hands started moving to his shaft.

“Sir, please.. Please let me see it.” you were in that slutty red dress that you wore last night. And you were on your knees for him. The thought of that was biting and delicious. He’d tell you no, just so you’d beg more.

In his dream, Coriolanus stood from his chair. Now towering over you, he unzipped his pants allowing his cock to spring free. You immediately took it into your mouth.

Would you be that desperate for him in real life?

Coriolanus needs you as much as any man needs air. He gritted his teeth, unable to hold on much longer. Slowly, the blond starts pumping his shaft. It was so animalistic and enticing, the image he had of you. He couldn’t help but choke back his wails of pleasure. He was afraid of being caught by Tigris, or even worse–the grandma’am–but he couldn’t help himself.

In his fantasy you’re swallowing him whole, deepthroating every inch of him. Your cheeks hollowed out and your tongue was swirling around him like a good girl. He grabs you by both sides of your head and starts fucking your face like an animal.

Soon enough Coriolanus can feel himself reaching his climax. His legs are weak as he tries to imagine himself pouring his seed into you, and not some bathtub. You’d most certainly look divine carrying his child.

After a few moments after his climax he realized how tainted that whole ordeal was. Yet, he thinks that he would do it again, and again. Until he had you.

Coriolanus sighs as he drains the tub and draws up another bath. This time around the bath was short.

The next time Coriolanus saw you–in person–was at a party hosted by Clemensia. He was surprised to see you. You weren’t usually the type to go out, especially to parties like these. Unless there was a good reason for you to come. Or had you finally made an effort to debut into Capitol society? Hopefully the latter.

He continued to observe you from afar. You were sitting with one leg crossed over the other. Seemingly deep in thought. Or you were, until a tall and pretty lean gentleman approached you. Your face lit up and Coriolanus wished you’d look at him like that.

Who is he? How did he know you, how did you know him?

Coriolanus quickly sought out Clemensia, it was her party so she must know. It didn’t take long to find the black haired girl. She was speaking with Festus and the two were clearly laughing about something that didn’t really seem too important. He approached the two and whispered “Clemmie,” a nickname he only used if he needed something, “Can I steal you for a minute?”

The girl stilled for a second before telling Festus to give them a second. She looked up at Coriolanus, “What is it, Coryo?”

He wasted no time in asking who the male that was with you was.

Clemensia sighed, “Her plus one, I invited her ‘cause she’s rich and the heir to her father’s business. It’s good to have her on my good side. Wasn’t really expecting her to come so I told her to bring a plus one if she wanted.”

Plus one? You not only came to a party, but brought a plus one? Were the two of you together? The thought of that makes someone churn in his stomach. “So who is he?”

“Don’t really know. Pretty sure they bonded over their hatred of the games, he was probably homeschooled.”

Coriolanus felt sick and Clemensia noticed. She took a step back. “Hey, you look like you might vomit all over the place.. You know where the guest bathroom is right?” He nodded. “Good. There’s a medicine cabinet in there too, if you want. Please don’t ruin my party, Coryo.”

Coriolanus nodded his head before making his way to the bathroom. He stood over the toilet for a couple of moments, and nothing happened. He figured that it would be best to take some medicine before heading out, just in case. He opened a few different cabinets before finding the right one.

He knew there’d be lots of different bottles, but he still wasn’t expecting such a variety. Coriolanus knew that Clemensia struggled a lot, mentally, after the snake incident so he knew there’d be lots of prescriptions in here. Curiosity got the best of him and he started going through each one. There were a few anxiety prescriptions, like benzodiazepines, which he expected. However, he took notice of all the insomnia medications. There were so many sleeping pills. The one that caught his attention the most was flunitrazepam. It’s a powerful sedative, and he’s wondering if Clemensia really takes such a strong drug to sleep?

There was a little voice in the back of his mind telling him to take some. Not for himself of course. To give to you. Coriolanus wishes that he still had a little angel on his shoulder, telling him it was a bad idea. A voice to persuade him not to. But there wasn’t. Has there ever been?

Before Coriolanus knew it he was unscrewing the cap and took out one of the small pills. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and laid it beside the sink. He set the pill on top before smashing it into tiny pieces. He rolled the handkerchief—with the sedative still inside—into a ball and shoved it into his coat pocket.

Before Coriolanus left the bathroom he made sure to take medicine for his stomach ache. Just in case.

He made his way to the bar, where an Avox was bartending. He put up two of his fingers to the bartender. As it started making the drinks, Coriolanus sought you out again. Unsurprisingly, you were still in the same spot. The only difference now was that the male was sitting beside you, and Coriolanus could feel himself becoming more and more aggravated. He turned back around, not wanting to see you laughing at the other man’s joke any longer.

A few seconds later the Avox set two drinks in front of him and Coriolanus took no time in taking out his handkerchief and spilling the contents into one of the glasses. The Avox watched the whole thing happen and could only raise its eyebrows in response. Coriolanus smirked knowing it couldn’t say anything. Coriolanus took a glass into each hand, noting that the one with the sedative in it was in his right hand.

The closer Coriolanus got, the more nervous he became. Part of him felt bad, really. You're just an innocent girl, one who is easily swayed. That had to be it. Sejanus must’ve started your hatred towards the hunger games, and that man continues to spark that hatred. Someone needs to save you, to wake you up. He won’t let you do something stupid like Sejanus did. Coriolanus is saving you, and this is the only way he can do it.

“Y/N Plinth, what a pleasant surprise!” he exclaimed, as if he wasn’t already of her attendance. You looked up at him, and he swore his heart rate went up.

“Oh, Coriolanus. Good to see you too.”

You clearly were uncomfortable with his interruption. Was he the first person to approach you? Coriolanus was thinking about how to ease the tension when your plus one spoke up instead. “Hello, I’m Chiron. Nice to meet you.”

Coriolanus took a few minutes to soak in the male’s appearance. He had dark hair, and blue eyes. His jawline was square and Coriolanus took note of how his suit was lower end. Was he even Capitol? Then he turned back to you. You wore a simple black dress and heels. A timeless outfit. He noted that you did an updo with your hair, to show off your earrings. Stunning.

“Nice to meet you too, Chiron. Sadly, I only have two drinks, you don’t mind do you?”

The brown haired man shrugged and you finally spoke up again, “Oh, it’s okay. I don’t drink.” How cute, Coriolanus thought. “Oh c’mon, it’ll help you ease up a little. I can tell you’re a little tense.”

His tone was light, but he could tell he might’ve sounded more demanding. You sighed and gave him a tiny smile. He made sure he gave you the one in his right hand. You held it and eager to get you to drink it, he raised his glass. “To Sejanus.” A toast that you knew you couldn’t refuse.

You raise your glass afterwards and whispered, “To my brother.” Without waiting for Coriolanus to lower his glass, you took a giant swing of the drink.

After a couple minutes of small talking, he could tell that the drug was slowly taking effect. You were swaying and kept trying to steady yourself. Until you couldn’t and Chiron had to catch you from falling.

“Woah hey, are you okay?” the brunette asked and of course you gave no response. “What’s wrong with her? Did you do something?” the man gave Coriolanus an accusatory glare.

“No! Of course not.” Coriolanus paused for a moment, thinking of what he could say to sell his lie. “Wait.. I can’t believe I forgot she’s a lightweight. I should’ve realized when she said she doesn’t drink.”

“You did this on purpose didn’t you!” Chiron started shouting at Coriolanus. “Did you spike her drink or something? You did, didn't you!”

All the background chatter from the other attendees quieted down. Observing the scene before them. “Why would I do that? I would never even consider doing that to her, I-”

Then Clemensia stepped in. “What’s going on here, Coryo? I asked you not to ruin my party.” Her eyes landed on you and then up to Coriolanus, clearly expecting a good explanation.

He sighed. “This man is making very harmful accusations. He’s saying I drugged her. Y/N’s just a lightweight.”

“Is that true?”

He already knew she’d believe him and the brunette knew it too.

“Look, whatever. I’m taking her home.” he said, and started to pick you up before Coriolanus spoke up again.

“No.. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Do you think so Clemmie?”

“Well I don’t know I-”

“Clemmie, do you want her to be taken by some guy that nobody knows?” his voice was eager, he can’t let all of this trouble go to waste. “Who knows what he’ll do to her?” He whispered, only loud enough for her to hear.

Clemmie sighed. “I guess not, maybe she should just sleep in one of the guest bedrooms?”

After that people began to whisper and that felt more eerie than the silence.

“I’ll stay with her.” Chiron was clearly trying desperately to save you. Sadly for him, he doesn’t have nearly the same amount of power as Coriolanus.

Before Coriolanus could persuade Clemensia to say no, she did it on her own. Telling him that he needs to leave her party, since the reason he was even allowed to come—you—was no longer, technically, here.

And that was that. Two Avoxes wasted no time in escorting the man out. Coriolanus could only smirk to himself. He made a mental note to thank Clemensia in the future.

“I guess I’ll take her to the guest bedroom then?” He finally allowed himself a deep breath in and out. Everything he’s ever worked for has led to this moment.

“Coriolanus.” Clemensia’s voice was serious and blond found himself coming back to reality. “Don’t hurt her.”

He looked down and found that she was already looking at him. Her face was hard and eyes were cold and serious. Like a snake. Coriolanus gulped, “I would never dream of it.”

And she believed him.

Coriolanus took no time in picking you up bridal style. On his way to the bedroom, he passed the bar and made eye contact with the same Avox that watched him spike your drink. He couldn’t help but feel his pride grow as the Avox quickly looked away. Surely aware of what was going to take place.

In the past the blond felt bad about the seemingly inhumane ways the Capitol removed tongues from people who spoke out or rebelled. He always thought about the pain, and how cruel it was to take away their communication, then force them into servitude. That was him a long time ago however. Now he understands the importance of such policies. Power and control, two words that Coriolanus resonated with.

Once he made it to the bedroom he laid you gently onto the mattress. He didn’t immediately take off his clothes, or yours. He just sat there and studied you. You were so irresistible. How hadn’t he noticed earlier? Was it because Sejanus bothered him so much that he never noticed you? Whatever the reason was, Sejanus was now gone and you were going to be his–soon.

The thought that more nights like this—nights with you— were in his future made him grow hard. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He began by taking off your heels. He wondered how you could wear such ridiculous things, surely they were uncomfortable and he was proven right when he noticed the blisters on your feet. He mentally added that to his list of things he’d have to fix.

Coriolanus took time in taking off your dress. He carefully sat you upright just enough to unzip the back zipper. He even more carefully removed the dress from your body and then laid you back down. He took a moment to admire your almost bare form. You were wearing a matching black set. Nothing too much. You weren’t planning on this happening anyway.

He pushed your panties to the side and inserted one finger into you slowly. Absolutely divine, he thought. The way you felt around his finger was enough to get him drunk. He began to kiss up your legs while also thrusting his digit. Part of him wishes you were awake, just so he can see your reactions. You’d be moaning for more, begging for more, he knows it.

The blond inserted a second digit and began scissoring motions. Suddenly he hears a small whimper, so small he wasn’t even sure what it was until he heard it a second time. Were you waking up? Part of him hopes so, that way you’ll know and realize who you belong to. The other part of him wants you to keep sleeping. That way he won’t have to fight you, he already worked so hard to get here anyway.

Coriolanus momentarily stops his ministrations and removes his fingers from your wetness. He examines them, drenched in your juices. He licks his fingers clean and can feel himself getting impossibly harder. You make him so hungry, he’s starved. He can’t hold himself any longer, he tells himself. Next time, he assures himself, he’ll take his time enjoying you.

He quickly releases his length. It’s angry and red, begging for you. He huffs before finally removing your underwear. He contemplated stealing them before realizing he won’t need to after this. He quickly threw them somewhere and then he spread your legs.

He touched his cock a few times, then proceeded to coat his length in his precum. He could feel his heart pounding and his breath quickening. He aligned himself with your entrance and slowly pushed in. You were tight, and he cursed to himself because he knew he should’ve taken more time preparing you.

Once he was fully seethed inside of you, he took a moment and admired the blood on his cock. Pleased to know you hadn’t slept with that lousy Chiron guy, he slowly removed himself before shoving himself back inside of you. You were still whimpering like before, but now you wore a pained expression on your face. You could feel him.

“I know it hurts right now, love. Bear with me.” he whispered, although he wasn’t sure if you could hear him or even comprehend what he was saying.

Coriolanus could feel all the arousal pooling between the two of you. You weren’t as tight as you had been in the beginning. Now he could easily invade your gummy walls. If anything he wasn’t invading them because they sucked him back in. His lip twitched and he began to quicken his pace. After a particular thrust your body clenched around him and he let out a groan. “You like that, huh? You dirty slut.”

He began to aim harder at the same place that had you clenching around his length. When you let out a mewl he decided to go even faster. You were such a mess. A beautiful mess, one that he created and one that he will clean up.

The blond slid his hands behind your back and unclipped your bra. He quickly disposed of it and stared at your chest. Now you were fully exposed to him. He drank in the sight, no more secrets. He was going to memorize every freckle, every birthmark, every inch of your body by the end of tonight.

Every thrust made your chest bounce and he couldn’t help but take the left one in his mouth while squeezing the other. He swirled his tongue around your nipple before sucking on it lightly. In his other hand he was rubbing your nipple.

“C- Cor-”

He perked up, hearing your voice. You must be waking up. He removed his mouth from your mound, leaving a trail of his saliva, and looked at your face. You looked scared and for a second he felt bad. Then he reminded himself that you did this to yourself. In the long run, you’ll be thankful.

“Whats-” you furrowed your brows, clearly not fully awake. “What are you-”

He was quick to shush you. “Let me take care of you, okay?” He planted a kiss on your forehead, to which you tried your best to push him away. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t let your refusal be let off so lightly but you were just so weak. Instead he just took your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Be a good girl or I won’t let you cum. Understand?” He looked into your eyes and he could tell you were about to cry. Your eyes were glossed over and your face was red, from the sex or the need to cry–he wasn’t sure.

After a mere second of eye contact you turned your head to the side. He growled, tired of your disobedience. He removed one of his hands from your wrists and moved it to your jaw. He forced you to look at him.

“Keep your eyes on me,” your tears started falling and he quickened his pace, “I’m gonna take care of you.. I promise.” he wiped your cheek with his thumb. Out of lust–or fear–you nodded. He could tell you were gonna climax soon, so he removed his hand from your wrists and moved it to your clit doing circular motions. You started whimpering, holding back her moans, “Go on, moan my name.. Don’t be shy.”

“C- Coriolanus,” he hummed, questioning. “Please.. Too much.” you begged.

He grinned in satisfaction and quickened his pace. You started to squeeze him more and he knew it was coming. You started to squirm, an unfamiliar feeling surely boiling in your lower abdomen.

After a few moments longer you came undone. Coriolanus made sure to study the pure ecstasy on your face. The way your mouth opened, revealing the most gratifying moan. The way your eyes squinted, your senses became too much. It was all so lewd and he gave you no comfort in stopping his ministrations, opting to fuck you through it. He was searching for his own climax now while you were a moaning mess underneath him.

He leaned down to your ear, “I’m gonna feel you up so nice, put a baby in your womb. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You didn’t answer him, unable to not be a blubbering mess. He took the way your cunt sucked him in as an answer enough.

There it was, the coiling feeling. He became erratic, chasing that all too familiar feeling of his high. Suddenly he was the moaning mess and not you. He examined your face, and noted that you were crying more than before and that sent him over edge. He spilled every drop of his seed into you.

Then he stayed there and the world felt silent besides the two of you breathing. Everything felt surreal.

His member was soft now, and he slowly removed himself from inside you. He pushed out the cum that was leaking out. Don’t want any of that getting lost, he thought.

He laid himself onto the bed next to you. He tried looking at you, only for you to turn the other direction. He sighed, understanding that you might need time to think about everything that’s happened.

“You’ve ruined me, Coriolanus Snow.” you said, so tiny he wasn’t sure you even said it until you turned your head back to face him.

“You’ve taken everything from me.” your face was tear stained and red. Your nose was runny and he just noticed that you were sniffling.

“Everything?”

You took a shaky breath. “My life, my fortune, my future,” you closed your eyes, “my brother.”

To that his heart sank, and his eyes widened. It wasn’t often that Coriolanus felt bad, to be honest he still didn’t, but the look on your face told him he should.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, and reached out to wipe your tear-stained cheeks.

“Me too.”

#dark! coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark! coriolanus snow #!dark coriolanus

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waklman · 1 year

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Michelin Star

summary: you give bradley head during a private dinner or the “you say it’s big, but you take it” lyric from frank ocean.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n. smut 18+ blog minors dni. blowjob/oral (m receiving), pwp, spit kink.

word count: 1.3k

nfl au, billionare bradley, a24 actress reader

city of stars masterlist

“Look so fuckin’ tiny next to it. Fuck.” Bradley harshly whispers, fully taken by the way your head shrinks in size when you pose next to his straining cock. His stomach knots at how the shadow of his dick rests over your entire face, as it towers past the top of your head.

Mouth starting to fill with saliva, all you can do is nod in agreement—not wanting to drool over the expensive slacks he’s zippered down for you.

You could only pray that your plea translates through the wide-eyed stare you’re giving him. Because right now, you’d do just about anything to feel the delicious stretch of his thick cock down throat when he inevitably reaches back there.

Under the dinner table of the Michelin restaurant he’s booked out, the precum dripping down his length slips onto the side of your face and you go to eagerly lick it off once it trails down towards your mouth.

Though, you should be a bit ashamed—acting like this in a public space, you can’t seem to care as your restraint thinned out long ago.

“Please. So big,” you thickly swallow, chest rising up and down as you pull back to watch him throb in your manicured hand, that barely wraps around his girth. The silk table cloth slips down the back of your tweed Chanel archive dress when you move to look at him.

Through pure instinct, you roll your tongue back in on itself, trying to find the fleeting aftertaste of his salty precum somewhere on there.

Bradley insisted that you’d wait until the driver drops you both off at his penthouse—but how were you supposed to do that when he casually passed a thick bundle of cash to the waiter, suggesting he say a number between five and ten. Smirking when ten hit his ears, Bradley leaned over his main course to tell you that he’s going to make you cum ten times tonight.

And that's when you started begging hard enough that he gave in, letting his seared steak run cold.

“So big, but you take it anyway,” he hums condescendingly, guiding you towards his leaking tip with the hand he has tangled into your hair. You're not sure if it's his Rolex brushing against the shell of your ear or the thought of someone possibly catching you, but a shiver passes down your spine.

"My dirty fucking girl,” he suddenly growls through clenched teeth. “Lettin’ me stuff that pretty mouth. Don't even care if someone sees, huh?"

It's almost pathetic how quickly you nod, bleary eyed as you slowly move down his length, bobbing back up to swallow his tangy precum, desperate to not miss a drop.

It’s a brief thought that cuts through his lust, but Bradley wished the paparazzi waiting outside the tinted glass doors would just fuck off for once. Because if he did so much as move in his seat, they’d get a view of his wife on her knees, cherry red lips wrapped around the head of his cock.

Tightening his grip, he slightly tugs on your roots, moving you back off him for a moment. Instantly, you dart out a tongue, catching the taste of him that brushes over your chin to hide the disappointment of your empty mouth.

Bradley couldn’t imagine that your manager would particularly enjoy spending his rare day off—scrubbing lewd photos of his rising movie star off the internet—as that would stir trouble around your growing career. But, what Bradley could imagine, was that he has more than enough money to hire someone else clear the pictures within seconds.

“If you make it quick, I’ll fuck you til’ can’t breathe in the back of the Bently. Got it?” He looks down at you, a stern expression dawning his features. Noticing the haze taking over your vision, Bradley presses further, a tinge of impatience leaking into his tone. “Gonna be a good girl and answer me?”

“I–Yes,” you whimper, regaining focus with a forceful blink. The mere thought of him mercilessly pounding you into the leathered seats with the radio cranked up, stifling the harsh snap of his hips—while the driver blissfully attends to his smoke break, has you instantly clenching your thighs. The carpet under your bare knees scratches at you with the abrupt movement.

Pleased with your reaction, he scratches at your scalp, prompting you to sink your mouth around him again. “Mm, that's right,” he begins to coo, watching his dick glide past the tip of your tongue. “Thought you’d like that. Making people wait around while you’re crying ‘bout how full you are. Crying ‘bout how you can’t live without this dick in you,” he crudely voices.

Then like instant karma, an unsuspected groan rips through his chest, putting an end to his teasing.

Bradley’s suddenly forced to bend forward because you’re eagerly hollowing your cheeks, already taking more than half of him. It’s downright shameless how obedient you’re being, sucking in a deep breath and holding it so you don’t gag around his cock.

“Holy shit,” he heaves, steadying his faltering clutch on the roots of your hair.

“S-Shit. Just like that,” he grits, brows pinched and eyes fixated on the way your nose increasingly gets closer the bejeweled hand you have curled at his base, mouth moving up and down his length, coating him in a clear slick.

The decorated table above you is shaking, the back of your skull cushioned by his thick fingers repeatedly slams against the blunt edge in bursts.

Bradley’s hazel orbs are dimmed to an inky black color—the only light glimmering through his eyes is from the reflection of burning candles jittering away from its original spot between your plates.

“You tryna’ call the waiter over here? Huh? Needy little thing,” he bites down on his lip, ears zoning in the sound of your muffled moans.

Tongue molding around a protruded vein on his underside, you chase to get the entire stretch of it to lay flat against your tastebuds, ignoring the burn of your mascara in your waterline when your tears mix with it.

Roughly, Bradley spits a sharp wad right onto the hefty rock perched on your ring finger. “Want you reaching that fuckin’ diamond, baby.” The saliva glossing your wedding ring, spurs you to pick up your pace, sending a continuous vibration down his length.

Jaw stretched to its limit, your slobber leaks out the side of your mouth. A rush of dizziness surges through you when you finally feel the head of his cock poking the back wall of your throat.

Curling his other hand firmly around your nape, he mockingly taps his large thumb on the pedant of your necklace. “Almost fuckin’ there,” he runs the digit down line of your throat. “C’mon. Thought you wanted this dick down here.”

In response, you bob your head faster in unison with the well decorated hand fisted around his length. Above you, Bradley’s incessantly grunting out a string of praise as the wet surface of the glassy crystal nudges at the tip of your runny nose in success. You finally reached the diamond.

Bradley feels the oxygen completely dissipate from his lungs, a sear of building pleasure bats through his ribs while he fights the urge to tip his head back. His eyes nearly shuts, but he wills himself to keep his attention on you. His wife.

And if it’s not the sight of your throat growing in size as his cock spills into it, then it’s the overwhelmed gag that rings around him that finally tips Bradley over.

A shaky praise of Good Girl mindlessly leaves his scratchy throat when you diligently swallow the ropes of cum that shoot down your throat.

Carefully, he moves you off him, lightly laughing when you blankly blink at his deflated dick as if you didn’t just consume his future children instead of dinner.

Moving his hands to cradle your head between them, Bradley extends a thumb to feasibly clean off the smudge of lipstick smeared across your cheek.

Bradley grins. “You do realize that our waiter who’s been consistently checking up on us, hasn’t come back to our table right?”

The remembrance of the grown man's excitement to constantly ask how the food was, after becoming thousands of dollars richer from the Bradley's loose change makes him laugh again, but you don’t join in.

Instead, you frown a bit as he continues to work off the red stain on your face. “I thought I was pretty quick!” You protest, pondering on how long you actually took.

If you weren’t as fast as you thought, there wouldn't be a chance in hell that he'd start on his promise of making you cum ten times tonight in the car.

Bradley raises an eyebrow at you, biting back his amusement when he says his final statement. “Apparently, not quick enough. Looks like the Bentley is being spared.”

note: did i write this to live out my rich husband dreams, maybe! anyways thank you for reading and as always reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

join the taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw oneshot #bradley rooster x y/n #bradley rooster x reader #bradley x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fic #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n #rooster smut #city of stars

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Break Me Down - Part 10

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Song inspo for this one is “Caught In the Balance” by Toto!

Word Count: 5,300 Tags/Warnings: Violence, hints of past trauma, hurt/comfort, angst, and a (mean) cliffhanger...

Part 10: Caught in the Balance

“Christ on a cross,” Ben muttered.

He was just trying to start his morning with some huevos rancheros.

He hid behind a mask of impassiveness, while his stomach turned at the sight of the open cooler Frank had been forced to show him.

Saul’s bloody severed head was stored inside. Ben had asked for a report on the man’s reconnaissance mission, but this was a bit thorough.

“Black Noir took out his entire unit,” Frank informed him. His tone was stoic, as usual, but his dark brown eyes betrayed his solemnity.

Ben shook his head and peered inside. “I fucking figured…yep, that’s Noir’s handiwork all right.”

The cut was clean at the neck—sliced by a blade.

Unfortunately, that was when you entered the kitchen in search of breakfast. Ben looked over at you, taking in your matching purple pajamas with a hint of a smile. Your hair was a bit messy, your face still tired with sleep.

But when Frank swiftly snapped up the cooler, you still raised a perceptive brow.

“What’s that?” you asked. Ben shared a brief glance with Frank.

“Just some steaks for later,” Ben replied. You didn’t look convinced, sniffing the air with a grimace.

“Is that why it smells like a meat locker in here?” you said.

After you grabbed a mug of coffee, you took a seat at the far end of the kitchen island. It left an open seat between you and Ben, and he noticed the distance.

“What’re Saul and Loco up to today? Think they’d be up for some Texas Hold’em?” you asked Frank.

He shook his head and tucked the cooler under his arm.

“They’re on a job,” he said.

You warmed your hands around your coffee mug and nodded. “Ah, yeah. Trying to figure out how Black Noir pulled a Lazarus?”

Both men stared back at you, confirming your assumptions.

“You do realize this begins and ends with your buddy, Stan Edgar,” you said, turning to Ben. “Vogelbaum was his chief geneticist, the Head of R&D during your time. But Stan was the Steve Jobs to his Wozniak. Together they created Homelander.”

Ben didn’t know who the fuck you were talking about there, but he got the gist of what you were saying.

Stan had played him from the beginning; he’d masterminded what went down Nicaragua, replacing Soldier Boy with Homelander, creating him in some petri dish with Ben’s DNA.

Now, it seemed Stan was partnering with the CIA to take him down. He’d even brought that cunt Noir back to life to do it. Also, likely, with the help of Ben’s DNA. (Well, probably Homelander’s, but that was still partly Ben’s.)

He couldn’t let that fucking stand, now could he?

His hand fisted on the counter, next to his forgotten plate. His brows fell over his eyes as he contemplated. He knew what he had to do next, just not exactly how he was going to do it.

“I’m gonna have to cut the head off the snake,” Ben mused out loud.

You watched him wearily, hiding a measure of concern at the darker shift in him.

Ben nodded at Frank and the cooler still under his arm, dismissing him. “We’ll talk later. Take care of that.”

Frank went with a nod, leaving you with Ben in the kitchen. You frowned.

“If you go back to the U.S., especially to New York, they’ll have a much easier time finding you,” you pointed out.

Though part of you kicked yourself for doing so. An idea was forming in your mind, and it could just mean your freedom…

And that was when Ben looked over at you once more. His eyes were guarded, more so than they had been with you of late.

“Why do you care?” he asked snidely. “You’ve barely said two fucking words to me in days.”

Which was true. You’d been carrying your grudges and your anger, both at him and at yourself, and your own conflicting emotions ever since you’d arrived at this new house.

The effects of V24 had long washed out of your system, but it still stung—that that poison had saved you. And so had these men, who had kidnapped you in the first place.

Shaking your head, you frowned at him to cover up your ongoing internal circus.

“Because you’re about to go on a fucking warpath. With, I imagine, a lot of collateral damage in store,” you replied, maybe more sharply than you’d intended.

Ben’s green eyes were dark and narrowed.

“There’s that self-righteous fucking tune,” he said. But his next words cut into you like so many knives. “You’ve been a fucking lapdog your entire life. Doing whatever daddy, Vought, or the CIA tells you to do. So remind me, why the fuck do you care so much about what I do, huh?”

For a moment, you were speechless.

Soon enough though, your shock melted into an angry glower as you tried to hide how much that actually hurt you.

A harsh breath expelled through your nose. Maybe he expected you to blow your top, like you usually would. Because that had worked so well at getting through to him in the past.

So instead, you tried to go with what seemed to work before.

“I didn’t used to,” you replied honestly. It seemed to make him pause, a little.

“When I joined the S.A., it was just my chance to break away from Vought,” you continued. “But…I don’t know. The more out of control supes we took off the street, the more I felt good about it. The work that I was doing.”

You let out a sigh, glancing down at your hands still wrapped around your cooling cup of coffee.

“You were right before, about me. I was part of it too. I helped cleaned up Vought’s messes. I made their supes look good, behind the scenes,” you said. “But I’m trying to do something that matters. Something honest, that actually makes people safer. It makes my family safer.”

That fell between you two for a while. Ben seemed to take it with his usual stoicism, but you knew him well enough by now. He’d been listening.

And eventually, he spoke.

“Then you should be grateful,” he said. “Noir. Stan. Vought. All those cocksuckers…I’m going to take them all out for fucking good.”

Are you, really? You couldn’t help but wonder. He’d been successful with Payback, and Homelander (with help from Butcher and Hughie).

But Vought was a machine. It had been an institution for decades. A multibillion conglomerate with a thousand and one hydra tentacles of ways to fuck people over…but if anyone was powerful enough to try to bring it all down, it was Soldier Boy.

Still, power isn’t everything. You thought of how he’d lost control against Noir, and how he’d blown up a hole in your bedroom ceiling and couldn’t remember much about it afterwards. Ben was still a mess.

But you considered a world where Vought couldn’t create supes anymore, like pop tarts coming out of the damn toaster. You considered what Ben could accomplish, now that he was properly motivated to end his six-month sabbatical.

And you considered what would happen if you helped him do it.

This is not the time to be reckless, the more rational part of your mind reminded.

And yet, you just had to continue following the impulsive voice that had led you for weeks.

“You can’t just run at this head on, guns blazing,” you told him. “Stan’s too smart for that.”

Ben eyed you with guarded interest.

“You look like you’ve got something in mind,” he said.

You nodded, though your lips pursed. You hated this idea, even though it had been growing since this conversation began. And you couldn’t even believe you were suggesting it, really.

“We can get into Vought under the radar, if you let me make a call,” you said. Ben’s expression tightened. Yours did too, with the beginnings of anxiety.

“Who do you need to call?” he asked.

“My father,” you replied.

As Stan Edgar’s Chief of Security, Jon didn’t often receive calls from phone numbers he didn’t recognize. Certainly not to his personal, blacklisted cell phone. He took the call into his personal office and shut the door behind him.

He answered it with a healthy measure of suspicion, “Hello?”

The last voice he expected to greet him was his eldest daughter’s.

“Hey. It’s me,” you replied.

Jon’s expression slackened. He sat down heavily at his desk, and your name fell from his lips in disbelief.

“You’re alive,” he said in genuine wonderment. “I thought…I thought you were dead.”

Your response was dry. “Before or after you sent Black Noir after us?”

Jon frowned, shifting back in his chair.

“That was Stan’s call,” he said. “There was no sign of you in any of our reports.”

“Then you weren’t looking very hard,” you said.

Your tone was matter-of-fact, unyielding. It was so like you that he had to smile.

“If nothing else, you were ambitious going after Soldier Boy,” he said, rubbing his chin. It reminded him that he needed a shave. “I should’ve known you were still alive…it seems I taught you better than I thought.”

On the other line, you had Ben’s cell in your hand while you spoke to your father on speaker. Ben and Frank were both in the room with you, sitting in chairs on either side. Frank suggested this conference room beside the study to conduct the call.

However, you tried not to look at either man while you tried to focus on getting through this.

“I managed to grab a phone from one of my guards,” you said into the speaker. “I can’t reach out to the CIA. They think I’m a damn turncoat at this point. But if you really want Soldier Boy, I can tell you where he’s going to be.”

“…Where?” Jon asked.

You glanced up at Ben before you replied. He gave you a nod.

“He plans to be in New York in three days.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said wryly. “To find Black Noir. It’s all he’s been moaning on about. He’s kind of a simpleton that way. Tit for tat on the vengeance beat.”

Ben gave you a dark look for that one, but you ignored him.

“Well, I can certainly give him a meeting with Noir,” said Jon. His voice shifted into that calculating tone you knew all too well. “That, and much more.”

“Good. Give him a big enough distraction, and I can lose his crew,” you replied.

There was a beat on the other line. You and your companions waited, for his agreement, for some kind of confirmation, but he didn’t give you that just yet.

“Are you all right?” Jon asked. “How’s your sister?”

Your lips pursed. “Clearly, I’m peachy. Are you in on this?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll help you get out of there, don’t worry,” he said. He almost sounded like a father. It made anxiety crawl up through your lungs, into your throat.

“It’ll be good to see you,” he added. “What’s it been, a year? More?”

You swallowed your unease.

“Let me make this clear,” you said. “This is just business. If you want to help me, fine. But don’t make it more than that.”

There was another pause, a heavy sigh.

“Oh, believe me. I know you wouldn’t be calling unless this was your last resort,” Jon said.

You tried to swallow, and found resistance.

“Good,” you said. “I’m glad we have that understanding.”

“See you soon,” he said. You ended the call afterwards.

Both men had been monitoring you throughout the exchange, but it was Ben’s gaze you felt, hot across your profile. Even now, he watched you behind impassive eyes. You wished you knew what he was thinking.

Regardless of things you’d said when you were angry, Ben knew too much about you now. There was no way he didn’t see it—how you were putting your all into keeping yourself together.

You stared back at him, but he didn’t ask if you were all right. He just nodded.

“Are we done?” he asked.

You scoffed, hiding your disappointment, and maybe the beginning of tears burning in your eyes. You blinked past them with an unsettled breath.

“Yeah,” you replied. “We’re done.”

Ben watched you get up, and you let the cell phone clatter on the table before you left.

Late that night, Ben wandered the dark halls of this house. He was trying to familiarize himself, and remember why the hell he bought this gaudy thing.

It was another big, empty shell that didn’t have much life in it—even less than the last place in Medellin. At least that one had character, surrounded by the mountains and wildflowers.

This house, while beautiful, felt stale; like an old photograph in sepia tones.

He found himself stopping outside your door. It was late, and he couldn’t hear your TV on, so you were probably asleep by now. If he stood close enough to the door, his superior hearing could just make out your soft, even breaths.

He knew you were pissed at him, but really, he thought you were being a bitch about it.

I fucking saved her, he thought sourly, and not for the first time. She should be fucking grateful I lifted a finger.

But then, he remembered just how pale you were when he found you in the helicopter, after the blast, and after he made his escape. Ben saw how wide your eyes got when you saw what had hurt you—that giant fucking piece of wood embedded in your body.

He remembered the sound of your scream, blood on his hands. He could feel your life slipping through his fingers…and for once, he wasn’t okay with letting it happen.

So he stopped it. Or at least, he ordered Frank to do it.

And afterwards, Ben couldn’t believe how you turned on him. That you were actually angry at him for saving your life!

What kind of idiot are you. He’d wanted to grab you and shake you until you saw good sense.

You were stronger on V. You were powerful, almost his equal. And Ben could admit, if only to himself, that he craved that: having an equal.

When he’d had Countess, that bitch, he thought he had his life sorted. He’d figured he had time to settle, to have a family…

But now that life was gone. His asshole team was gone. What the fuck was left?

Ben leaned against your door, as if he could brace against the depths of thoughts he hadn’t allowed himself to fall into since he left the U.S.

Still, he couldn’t help but think…after he became a supe, he’d reveled in standing alone, in the spotlight. When did it start to get harder?

Just then, his sensitive ears picked up on something: your breath hitched. He paused, listening closely. Soon enough, he heard a whimper.

Ben debated for a few seconds, but he decided to open the door, quietly twisting the knob and pushing it open. His eyes found you in the dark, curled in on yourself on the bed.

He drew closer until he reached your bedside, and even heard your pulse starting to race. His lips drew into a frown as he read the distress in your features. You were dreaming, and whatever it was, it didn’t look pleasant.

Ben hesitated, but he kneeled by your bed and carefully slid your hair away from your face. You were an angry, stubborn, mouthy little thing. He could just hear your voice now.

You still haven’t even apologized!

The audacity you had, to demand shit from him.

But then, he almost sighed when he realized he was glaring down at your sleeping form.

What the fuck’re you doing, anyway? He shook his head at himself and got up to leave, but your voice stopped him.

It was a pained whimper, a shuddering breath. Ben’s attention shifted back to you as he watched you tighten in on yourself, your hand curling into a fist that pressed against your throat. He didn’t know if you were trying to choke yourself, or fend someone off—

And then, Ben had to struggle against a firebrand of anger under his skin.

He finally realized what you were probably dreaming about; who you were fighting, even in your sleep.

He regretted letting you call your father. Maybe he even regretted pretending he didn’t notice…how talking to your dad had clearly fucked with you.

But he wasn’t about to show weakness. Not in front of his men…

With a quiet sigh, Ben reached out and soothed a hand over the top of your head. His fingers slid through your loose hair, stopping when they reached some tangles. Slow and careful, he repeated this. Until finally, your breathing seemed to ease up.

He unclenched your fingers out of their loosening fist, and he absently stroked his thumb over the back of your hand. You’re one deep sleeper…

You sighed and shifted in your sleep, resting your cheek easier on the pillow. Your brows were still knitted, but after a while, even your face relaxed.

Ben placed your hand down, giving the back of it one more tentative swipe.

And then he left, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. You never woke up to catch him.

A helicopter took you from the house to a private jet with Ben, Frank, Loco, and a few other hired men for the mission. You sat across from Ben, both seats facing one another. Your eyes were narrowed as you watched him accept a glass of whiskey.

“Where’s Saul?” you asked. Ben gave you a side glance, and with a quiet exhale, he answered you.

“He’s dead.”

You nodded through your sad, angry frown. You’d had a feeling that was what he and Frank had been hiding the other day, but you hadn’t wanted to face it.

“Black Noir?” you asked.

Ben nodded and sipped at his whiskey. “Yeah.”

“Do you even care?” you asked. Ben eyed you a bit sharper, but he didn’t comment.

“A couple of knocked banks didn’t get you this jet, on top of everything else,” you remarked, gesturing at your surroundings. “Where’s the money coming from?”

He’d bought back at least two properties from Vought, along with all the other shit he’d likely been blowing his money on for the last few months.

Ben sipped at his drink. You imagined it was hard for him to cross his legs in his super suit, otherwise he might’ve, to complete the air of asshole-ish nonchalance. You’d decided to dress comfortable, but prepared in yoga pants, sneakers, and a matching activewear jacket.

“Why do you think I settled in Colombia, of all places?” he asked you. His lips curved into a smirk and he shot you a wink. “Best drugs in town.”

His assets were frozen by the government, which meant he’d gotten the money from somewhere…

Your face soon fell as you realized your own stupidity. The shady characters he’d recruited, not just Frank, Saul, and Loco, but other men too that would occasionally traipse through the house. Plus the mysterious “jobs” they would routinely disappear on, sometimes for days on end.

Ben had infiltrated a drug cartel.

“Frank and his men were the muscle for some hot-shot kingpin, until I cut the head off the snake,” Ben revealed. “Which is what I’m about to do to good ole’ Stan.”

You crossed your arms with a deep frown.

“Every time I think I’ve got you figured out, I discover a new scum-ridden layer,” you said.

His lips quirked humorlessly. “Disappointed?”

You just shook your head and looked out the window of the jet.

“Mostly in myself,” you replied.

Ben didn’t show how your words sunk into him. He continued drinking.

Hours later, you all arrived at JFK Airport in New York. The jet landed far enough away from the larger commercial planes, but somehow that made you even more nervous.

You felt like you were stepping out into the Wild West as you disembarked from the jet and landed on the concrete ground of your home city.

Ben’s presence burned behind you, guiding you with a hand on the small of your back. Frank and Loco had the bags (and weapons). But before you could ask where to go next, Ben paused with a thoughtful frown on his face.

You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong, but then you heard it. A thin whistling in the air that couldn’t be attributed to an aircraft.

Ben pulled out his shield from its sheath on his back, and with his free hand he grabbed you, yanking you into his chest. He all but dragged you several steps away from the jet and then kneeled to cover both of you when a missile soared overhead.

It speared into the jet, destroying it with an epic explosion that seared across Ben’s back. He felt the heat, but it only singed the back of his neck without even burning his skin. His suit and helmet protected him from the rest, just as his shield and body protected you.

You could claim to hate him all you wanted, but your hands were braced against his chest as you leaned into him. And when you looked up, your eyes were wide with shock and fear.

“Go,” he ordered, pushing you towards Frank. You went with him, but you still looked back at Ben as worry undeniably claimed your heart. Loco and the rest of his team stood behind the supe.

Meanwhile, Butcher had appeared on the tarmac. With a rocket launcher, naturally.

He wore a smirk along with one of his customary, glaring Hawaiian shirts and long black trench coat. The hem of it fluttered as the wind blew between the long span of distance between him and Ben.

“So the CIA’s partnering with Vought now? How does that fucking work?” Ben remarked.

Butcher was joined by Hughie, Kimiko, and Frenchie, and then entire units of CIA and SWAT teams piling out of several armored cars.

“I’ll admit, you’re a tricky bugger to track down,” Butcher said. “But consider this your debt to fucking society paid in full.”

He launched yet another projectile from his gun. You gasped, but even though Frank pulled you towards the airport building and away from the fight, you still craned your head back to watch Ben bat away the missile with his shield. It landed far away, spilling concrete where it hit and shaking the ground.

Then a warning star bolt hit in front of Frank’s feet, stopping both of you short. You looked up and found Annie and M.M., the latter with an impressive gun in both hands.

“Stop right there, motherfucker,” M.M. ordered. “Time to let her go.”

“You okay?” Annie asked you. You had to smile, despite yourself.

“Yeah. It’s good to see you guys,” you said. Frank’s hand tightened on your arm, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you from leaving his side. He was stronger than usual once again, with the help of V24. He wielded his own gun trained on M.M.

“Step aside,” he ordered.

Annie pursed her lips at shot a star bolt at him. You took your opportunity and kicked at the back of Frank’s knee. It made his grip falter just enough that when M.M. jumped in to fight him, you scrambled away and Annie took your hand.

While the two men fought, you finally noticed the black sedan the pulled up on the tarmac behind you. The tinted driver’s window rolled down, revealing your father in black sunglasses.

Annie followed the path of your gaze in confusion. “Who the hell’s that?”

“Annie,” you squeezed her hand. “You know I’m your friend, right?”

Her brows furrowed, especially when you let go of her. “What’s wrong? What’re you about to do?”

“I need you to trust me,” you said.

You knew she didn’t understand, nor did she want to let you go. But you ran away from her, towards the car. She meant to follow you, but Frank held M.M. at bay long enough to aim a few well-placed bullets between you and Annie.

It stopped her long enough for you to climb into the black sedan before it peeled away, speeding around to the private gate of the airport. While you caught your breath, Jonathan’s gaze peered at you through the rearview mirror, after he lowered his sunglasses. The car was empty except for you and him.

Good, you thought. That meant he was the only one you had to watch closely.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Just fine,” you breathed. “Where to now?”

“Let’s get you to safety,” Jon said. You nodded. And when his focus was back on the road, you discreetly retrieved a tracking device from your pocket and placed it on the side of your seat, hidden from view.

Ben had given it to you before getting off the plane.

The device was small and flat, with a smooth back that would attach to almost any surface.

You rolled it experimentally between your fingers and looked up at Ben. His face was harder to read than ever.

“Why are you trusting me with this?” you asked.

Ben’s lips quirked wryly, but there was little humor in it. His hand, half-covered by his glove, reached up to brush your chin.

“I’m not,” he replied. “I expect you’ll jump at the chance to get back with Butcher and your asshole friends. But either way, I’m gonna find out if you were worth it.”

You frowned up at him. It was hard to believe that for all you two had been through together, this was really how it was going to be from now on.

“If I was worth saving?” you challenged.

He didn’t answer you, but his hand fell away from your face.

The car soon made its way out of the airport and onto the open road. There you were greeted by the familiar highways and approaching skyscrapers of New York City. You would be relieved to be home (almost), if you weren’t so tense.

“I need to see Stan Edgar,” you told your father.

Jon’s gaze met yours in the rearview.

“I have intel that he’ll be interested in,” you said.

“Okay, and that is?” he asked.

“About Supe Affairs, Soldier Boy, take your pick. But it’s the kind of information you don’t play Telephone with.”

“Mr. Edgar is a busy man,” Jon started to say.

“And you’re his Chief of Security,” you cut him off. “Who’s wiping his ass while you’re here with me?”

Jon sighed. “Always with that fucking mouth. Do you want me to relocate you? Put you in a safe house until we finish dealing with Soldier Boy?”

And give your father abject control over your life? I think not, you glared at the thought.

“I want to speak to Stan. I don’t care if it’s here, or Vought HQ, or in the middle of Times fucking Square. Take me to his damn office,” you demanded.

Maybe Ben had rubbed off on you a little.

“Or pull over right now, and I’ll make my way to the Tower myself,” you said. Jon came to a red light and had time to regard you in disbelief.

“Jesus…all right, let’s see if Stan will see you,” he said.

You let out a breath and finally allowed yourself to sit back in your seat. When the light turned green, Jon took the correct fork in the road that would lead you to Vought Tower.

And before you left the car, you made sure to grab the tracking device from the side of your chair, carrying it with you into your bra.

It was strange to enter this building again. You had worked here for five years, but it had been a year and a half since you’d returned.

It was still as busy as ever in the halls. Though you noticed the ratio of employees to tourists was about 30-70. It was incredible what taking out Vought’s golden psycho could do to a company’s profits.

Now they just needed to put the final nail in the coffin.

Jon led you to the elevator, and all the way up the Tower to Stan’s office. You had only been to this room once, when you were hired, but it was more or less how you remembered. Very spacious, minimalist furniture in a desk and a slim couch set, complete with a long glass coffee table.

But Stan was nowhere to be found. You frowned.

“Where is he?” you asked. Suspicion and awareness pricked at your spine.

You turned around to face your father, just in time to slap away something metallic headed for your neck.

It was a syringe. You watched it spin across the floor, and you glared back at him incredulously. He had enforced his will on you before, but he’d usually managed that with his hands, not with drugs. Maybe Vought had changed him too.

“All right, easy,” Jon said, raising placating hands. He drew closer as you backed away from him.

“I had a feeling Soldier Boy let you go,” he said. “That you’d probably planned this little bait and switch with him from the beginning.”

Heat made your cheeks flush as you glared back at him. Your father quirked a smile.

“Despite what you’d like to believe, I know you better than anyone,” Jon said.

You begged to differ on that…but part of you knew he was right.

“You did what you had to do with Soldier Boy. I understand,” he said. “Playing both sides of the game was smart. But I’m going to make sure you’re safe.”

“By sedating me?” you shouted. Your voice quivered, both with rage and fear. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He knew that you’d tried to play him, but his mistake was thinking you’d been playing Ben too.

“Later we’ll talk. When you’ve calmed down,” Jon said.

He reached out to grab your arm, but you evaded him. He called your name in warning.

You just got into a defensive stance. And the next time he tried for your arm, you snapped back with a fist to the bridge of his nose. It sent Jon’s head back with a grunt.

When his hand came back bloody from his nose, his demeanor shifted, from placating to stern. His cool gaze met yours, and you stared back at him stubbornly, poised for a fight.

“You little brat,” he said, wiping his nose again. “I fucking pulled you out of the fire, and you’re being difficult. As usual.”

“You didn’t save me,” you retorted. Emotion burned in your eyes, but your anger (and a frisson of fear) allowed you to clamp it down. “You never have.”

You shot out a preemptive strike, but your father surprised you by grabbing your wrist. And he backhanded you hard enough to make you see stars.

AN: 🫣 Welp, we're back in the U.S. SB is storming the castle, but at what cost...

Next Time:

A moment later, Frank patched through while he struggled and fought.

“She needs help,” he said gravely.

Ben took his hand off the comm, gritting his teeth. Black Noir was still waiting on him, attuned to Ben’s every move as the other supe brandished one of his blades.

Shit, Ben thought. He needed to end this.

Right fucking now.

Keep Reading: PART 11

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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