you found me

a side blog where i put all my smutty reblogs in one spot (hopefully)- 21

[dreamingitsover]

my personal fic rec masterlist

well, this is a blog for fic recs. so, here they are!!

also, i read a lot, send from my regular blog to this one, and then do mass reblog and adds to my master lists!!! so if i spam reblog, i promise i’ve read the stuff i’m recommending, i just like to do it all at once for some reason

chris evans and co. (inactive)

sebastian stan and co. (inactive)

miscellaneous

topgun maverick (inactive)

soldier boy (SOOOO VERY ACTIVE HOLY SHIT I WOULD DIE ON, FOR, AND BECAUSE OF THAT DICK)

[dreamingitsover]

girl ur nasty asf i love it

oh so we’re twinning out 🤪

[dreamingitsover]

soldier boy fic recs

hi party people, i'll start with saying that this is actually a sideblog where i send all my fic recs to! i just got around to reblogging all this stuff, i'm so abd at doing it the second after i read lol. thanks to every single one of y'all for writing smut bc i am so bad at it

@plasticflowersinahistorycemetery . and i mean like every fucking fic. BUT if i have to pick a favorite...

@godmadeaterribleerror another one where there isn't a single miss! but i have a soft spot for this one

and @zepskies, the one that who got me into soldier boy before i even sat down to watch the show! love everything this author has ever written, but this is a classic

diddle that skittle - @littlesoulshine

buy me presents - @little-wicked10

this drabble - @sleepywdean

beg for it- @vampiredaisiesss

memory foam - @bluemerakis

ultraviolence and daddy's home and professor!ben @jasvtsc

supa! - @msmiseryxoxo

peanut- @lila-lou

she's out to please, she pouts her best -@venus-haze

soldier boy has a glasses kink - @pearlzier

taming the supe and the fun kind of sparring- @so-much-for-the-seashells

like an animal - @impala-dreamer

hush hush behind the shield and bad mouth - @syrma-sensei

just between us- @xoxomilesteller

spice up your life- @wchswift

this one shot , fauxcest with ben - @bruisedfig

soft dom!ben , oral fixation!reader cockwarming drabble , stroke count (actually jensen but who give a damn- @honeyyxxbee

just take it - @prettyinpeaches

bad girl tax - @radioactivatedspider

[dreamingitsover]

this bad boy was updated with some REAL GEMS today y’all 😭😭😭 y’all better come up here and get one of these

[bruisedfig]

fauxcest w/ ben plsplspls i need that man to call me kid n be a little mean about it but also fuck my brains out while i call him daddy or mayhaps even dad 🙏

mhm you and me both tbh !!!!! first time writing and posting this sorta thing soooo anyway here we go 18+ ofc <3

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

“nuh uh, kid,” ben chuckles, his grip on your hips forcing you back onto his cock. he’s deep inside you, his girth practically splitting you open in a way that has your head spinning. “dad’s not done with you, baby. no running away. you wanted this, teasing me like that.”

he forces your hips back to meet his, your ass meeting his soaked pelvis, his balls slapping against your swollen clit at every rough stroke. your pussy aches and your clit throbs from the assault he’s laid on you with his mouth, hands, and now cock. you’re weak, jelly in his hands—there’s no point even fighting back anymore, you know you won’t win against his strength. he’s too determined to wreck you, to fuck you into a sobbing little mess.

“fuckin’ so tight. still squeezin’ ‘round daddy’s cock, huh? you just want me to stuff you again. greedy fuckin’ thing.”

ben laughs, and it’s loud, reverberating around the room, hitting the walls with his regular cocksure attitude and arrogance woven into the mocking sound. you whine and grip at the bedsheets, needing to find solace somewhere.

“yeah? uh uh uh, is that all you got f’me, kiddo? should be fuckin’ thanking daddy for his cock. no one else fucks your pretty pussy like i do,” ben muses cruelly, still ramming his member between your folds and up into your fucking lungs.

the noises from your cunt are obscene—so sticky, so slick. ben fucking loves it. you’re drooling onto the sheets, whimpering beneath him like a dumbed down little girl, just taking what her daddy’s giving her.

[dreamingitsover]

okay look so this is the king of all of my kinks and i’m gonna officially own it (THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD)

[aetherialmuse]

Bad Girl Tax

Main Masterlist The Boys Masterlist

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Radio's Café☆ - my official discord server!

Want to be added to my taglist? Just a few clicks away! -> Taglist Form 

Pairings; Sugar Daddy!Soldier Boy x Sugar Baby!Reader

Genre; BDSM Erotica, Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Fanfiction / Superhero AU

Warnings; Explicit sexual content, dom/sub dynamic, spanking, rough sex, choking (consensual), dirty talk, degradation, light humiliation, oral sex (f receiving), daddy kink, age gap, possessiveness/jealousy, overstimulation, bath sex, creampie, soft aftercare

Summary: You tease Soldier Boy all night in your little black dress—now he’s collecting the bad girl tax. One punishing round isn’t enough. He makes sure you remember exactly who you belong to… even in the bath.

2870 words

You’d been flaunting it all damn day.

That tight dress. The too-expensive heels he bought you last week. The smug little smile when you dropped your lipstick in front of him and bent over slow as hell to pick it up. You were testing him. You always tested him.

And Ben? Ben didn’t exactly pass tests. He corrected them.

“Y’know what your problem is, sweetheart?” he asked, slamming the penthouse door behind him. His boots hit the marble floor heavy, deliberate. Like he wanted you to hear him coming.

You grinned from the kitchen counter, twirling a cherry between your fingers. “I’m spoiled?”

“No.” He stopped in front of you, crowding you back into the edge of the counter. “You’re a brat.”

“Isn’t that why you like me?”

Ben didn’t answer.

He just grabbed your jaw, tilted your chin up, and kissed you—hard, fast, punishing. You gasped into his mouth, trying to hold onto the counter when his hand moved down and slapped your ass through the sheer dress.

“You wore this shit out in public?” he growled, pulling back just enough to glare. “For everyone to see?”

“You bought it.”

“I didn’t buy it for them.” Another slap. Then another, the sting making you gasp again.

He pushed the hem of your dress up with no finesse, exposing the tiny black thong underneath. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, fingers gripping the band and snapping it against your skin. “You really want Daddy to lose his fuckin’ mind, huh?”

You licked your lips. “You always do, Daddy.”

That was it.

Ben bent you over the counter like you weighed nothing. His belt hit the floor with a clink, and you barely had time to brace before he pulled your thong aside and slapped your bare pussy.

“Fuck—Ben!”

“That’s not my name right now,” he snapped, gripping your throat from behind and yanking you back upright. “Say it.”

“D-Daddy,” you moaned, thighs shaking.

“Yeah. That’s right.”

He slid two fingers into you without warning. You were already soaked.

“Look at this. You like getting punished, huh? Being bad on purpose?”

You couldn’t answer. His fingers pumped deep and fast, thumb circling your clit in those perfect, brutal strokes that had your knees buckling.

“I saw the way you looked at that guy at dinner. You smiled at him like you wanted him to take you home instead of me.”

You whimpered.

“Too bad,” he said darkly. “You’re mine.”

His fingers disappeared. Before you could whine, you heard the click of his zipper.

Then the blunt, thick head of his cock pressed against your entrance. “Beg for it,” he said against your ear.

You breathed out, “Please, Daddy. I need it—I need your cock.”

And Ben? Ben gave it to you.

One hard thrust, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out, hands scrambling against the countertop as he started slamming into you, each thrust brutal and punishing, his hand fisted in your hair to hold you down.

“Next time you act up in public,” he panted, “I’ll bend you over the fuckin’ table. Let the waiter see who you really belong to.”

You clenched around him at that, moaning helplessly.

“Yeah, you’d like that. My little slut.”

He reached around and rubbed your clit again, relentless. You were already so close.

“Gonna come all over Daddy’s cock like a good girl?” he growled. “C’mon. Do it. That’s it. That’s my fuckin’ girl.”

Your orgasm hit like a freight train, stealing your breath. You cried out his name, legs trembling, pussy clenching around him so tight he cursed and bit down on your shoulder.

He didn’t last much longer.

Ben pulled out and yanked you to your knees in front of him, stroking his cock with a snarl. “Open your mouth, princess.”

You did—tongue out, eyes glossy and obedient now. Just how he liked you.

He came with a low growl, painting your tongue, your lips, your cheeks. When he was done, he gripped your jaw and made you swallow every drop.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, mouth sticky with him, your lips glossy and wrecked. You tried to catch your breath, but Ben didn’t give you long. His hand slid up the back of your neck and fisted your hair tight, pulling your face up to meet his.

“Messy little mouth,” he muttered, thumbing his cum off your cheek just to push it past your lips. “Lick it clean.”

You obeyed, eyes fluttering shut as you sucked his thumb, tongue swirling, face flushed with heat and praise-hunger.

“Atta girl.”

He watched you for a beat—panting, trembling, ruined on your knees—then pulled you back to your feet like you weighed nothing. His belt still sat on the floor. His cock was still half-hard, twitching against his thigh.

“You think we’re done?” he asked, dragging you toward the bedroom.

Your heart jumped. “I—I thought—”

“Bad girls don’t get to think.” He tossed you face-first onto the bed. “They take their punishment until Daddy says they’ve had enough.”

You barely had time to gasp before he grabbed your ankles and dragged you back to the edge of the bed, flipping you onto your back and forcing your legs open. Your thighs shook from the force of your orgasm, but that didn’t matter. He knelt between them, eyes locked on your soaked pussy, tongue swiping his bottom lip.

“Look at this fuckin’ mess,” he said, voice low and hoarse. “You’re drippin’.”

You whimpered when he dipped his head and licked a long, slow stripe up your folds, nose pressed to your clit. “B-Ben—fuck—”

A slap to your thigh made you jolt. “What’d I say?”

“D-Daddy—oh, my God—!”

He growled into you, eating you out like a man starved. His tongue flicked and circled, then flattened and dragged across your clit until you were a mess of sobs and babbled begging. He wrapped his arms under your thighs to hold you in place, lips sealing around your clit as two fingers sank into you again—faster, deeper, filthy.

“S’too much,” you whimpered, trying to squirm away, but he only grunted and held you tighter. “Gonna come again, Daddy—!”

“That’s the fuckin’ point,” he growled. “You come when I say. And you’re gonna keep comin’ until you learn how to behave.”

Your back arched. Your second orgasm hit harder than the first—an electric snap of heat and pressure that made your vision blur. You cried out, grinding helplessly against his mouth, his name a garbled mess on your tongue.

When he pulled back, his beard was soaked. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood, towering over you, eyes dark with hunger and pride.

“You think you can act like a little cock-tease at dinner and get away with it?” he asked, lining himself up again.

“N-No, Daddy.”

“That’s right.”

And he shoved in—hard, deep, no warning. Your breath left your lungs in a sharp gasp as he bottomed out in one thrust, then stayed there, grinding slow circles with his hips, cock pressing against every spot inside you.

“You take me,” he snarled, hand closing around your throat again—not choking, just holding. Claiming. “You’re mine. My little fuck-toy. That’s what you signed up for.”

“Yes—yes, Daddy, I’m yours—”

He didn’t wait. His thrusts were savage now, slamming into you over and over, the bed slamming against the wall in rhythm. Your moans turned high and broken, hands clawing at the sheets while your pussy fluttered around him, slick and hot and soaking everything beneath you.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Fucking squeeze me. You love this cock, don’t you?”

“Yes—fuck—so much—”

“You smile at anyone else like that again, I’ll bend you over right in the restaurant and fuck you on the table.”

You sobbed at the thought—humiliated and turned on all at once.

“I’ll make sure the whole damn place hears how loud you moan when Daddy’s inside you.”

His hand slid down between your bodies, rubbing your clit again with brutal precision.

“Come for me again, baby. Do it.”

You didn’t even have time to brace.

Your whole body convulsed as the third orgasm shattered through you—screaming, sobbing, going white-hot all over. Your pussy spasmed around him so hard he cursed, grabbing your hips and pounding into you until he was gasping too.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up,” he growled. “Gonna stuff you full of my fuckin’ cum—”

And he did.

He slammed deep one last time and came with a rough, broken moan, pulsing inside you in thick, hot waves. His arms shook as he braced himself above you, hips twitching as the last spurts spilled out.

Silence followed—hot, heavy, spent.

Then Ben leaned down and kissed you—slow, soft, deep. His tongue stroked yours gently now, the pressure reverent. His fingers brushed your cheek, your throat, your jaw where he’d held you so tight before.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your lips. “You took it all. You always do.”

You blinked up at him, dazed and warm and full of him in every way.

Ben smiled, just a little. “C’mere.”

He pulled out slowly—making you wince with sensitivity—then lifted you into his arms like you were weightless. Carried you to the bathroom. Set you on the counter.

“You okay?” he asked, cupping your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “Too much?”

You shook your head with a sleepy smile. “Perfect.”

Ben kissed your forehead, then your temple, then your mouth again.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said. “Then I’ll run you a bath. And after that? You’re sleeping in my shirt. No panties. I’m not done with you yet.”

The bath was already full when he brought you back into the marble bathroom, water steaming, bubbles thick and fragrant.

Ben sat you on the edge of the tub and grabbed a towel to dry between your legs first, slow and gentle despite the bruising way he’d just ruined you. He cleaned you like he was undoing his own mess — then slid his arms under your thighs and lifted you in.

The water lapped over the sides the second you sank into the heat with a sigh.

Ben followed, settling in behind you. His big body practically made the tub look small. You leaned back against his chest, boneless, floating between exhaustion and arousal as his arms wrapped around you from behind.

One hand stroked your thigh. The other dipped a sponge in the water and dragged it up your skin in slow, lazy circles — your shoulder, your neck, your breasts. He lathered you with care. Reverent. Like you weren’t just his brat or his toy but something delicate. Something his.

“You always this quiet after I fuck the attitude out of you?” he murmured, mouth brushing your ear.

You smiled, eyes half-lidded. “M’just enjoying the water.”

“Yeah? You enjoyin’ this too?” He let the sponge drift down between your legs again — slower now, sensual, teasing — until your hips jerked.

You let out a soft gasp. “B-Ben…”

“Daddy,” he corrected, that same low growl curling behind the word. “C’mon, sweetheart. Don’t act like you’re not still wet for me.”

His hand slipped between your thighs again — fingers brushing your pussy, then sliding in with no resistance.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, mouth at your neck. “Still fuckin’ dripping.”

“I—I just came—twice—”

“Three times,” he corrected, rubbing your clit in slow, relentless circles. “You came on my fingers, then on my cock, then on my fuckin’ mouth. You think that means you’re off the hook?”

“Ben—Ben, wait—oh my God—”

He shifted behind you, pulling your thighs wide in the water and thrusting two fingers in deep, thumb flicking your clit in time. His other hand palmed your breast, squeezing, rolling your nipple between his fingers while you writhed in his lap, the water sloshing over the edge of the tub with every grind of your hips.

“I can feel you clenching,” he rasped against your ear. “You’re gonna come for me again, right here, sittin’ on Daddy’s lap like a good little toy.”

You choked on a moan, nodding frantically.

“Say it.”

“Gonna—gonna come for you, Daddy, I promise—!”

“That’s my fuckin’ girl.”

You came with a cry, whole body trembling in his arms, the water splashing violently around you. Your thighs shook as his fingers coaxed every last wave out of you, and when it was done, you collapsed against him, panting hard.

Ben chuckled.

“Still think you can tease me at dinner, wear that little fuckin’ dress around, and not expect this?”

You whimpered. “I’m sorry.”

He kissed your shoulder, then your neck, letting you breathe. Letting the heat settle. Then his hand slid down your stomach again — lower.

“You’re clean now,” he said, voice deep and dark and dripping with hunger. “So I’m gonna fuck you again. Proper.”

You barely had time to whimper before he was lifting you out of the tub, water pouring off your bodies, splashing over the marble. He didn’t care. He carried you, dripping wet, straight to the bed and laid you on your side, facing away from him.

He climbed in behind you and kissed the back of your shoulder. Then the curve of your waist. Then the top of your thigh. One hand curled around your leg, lifting it up, bending your knee to open you just the way he wanted.

“You ready?” he murmured, pressing the head of his cock against your soaked entrance.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered. “Please.”

He slid in slow—inch by inch—groaning as your slick heat swallowed him up all over again.

“Fuck. You’re tight like this.”

He held your leg up with one strong arm, the other wrapping around your chest, cupping your breast as he started to thrust — deep and slow, grinding from behind. The angle made it all worse. Better. More intense.

You arched back into him with every thrust, the slide of skin on skin driving you wild.

His breath was hot against your neck.

“You’re mine,” he panted. “My girl. My perfect fuckin’ girl.”

“Yes, Daddy—yours—always—”

He fucked you deeper now, pace increasing, the wet slap of skin-on-skin echoing through the room as your body rocked into the mattress, your leg still held high so he could hit that perfect, brutal spot with every thrust.

“You feel that? That’s my cock all the way inside you. Stretching you out. Filling you up.”

You couldn’t even speak. Your hand reached back to grip his hip, nails digging in. He was too much and not enough. You needed more. You needed all of him.

“Gonna come again,” you breathed. “Oh my God, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah. You are,” he growled, slamming into you harder now, the sound of his hips meeting yours obscene, soaked. “You’re gonna come all over me like the fuckin’ needy little thing you are.”

You shattered again—high-pitched, body curling, toes curling, walls clenching around his cock until he lost it with a snarl and came deep inside you, thick spurts filling you up while he held you tight, chest heaving against your back.

Neither of you moved for a long moment.

Just the sound of heavy breaths. Heartbeats calming. Water dripping somewhere in the background.

Then Ben brushed your hair back and kissed the back of your neck, still buried deep inside you.

“You’re lucky I like you spoiled,” he muttered. “Otherwise I’d really fuckin’ punish you.”

You giggled, weak and wrecked. “I think you already did.”

“Not even close,” he said.

But his hand slid down your thigh, gentle this time. Stroking. Holding.

He kissed your shoulder again.

“Sleep now, princess,” he said against your skin. “Daddy’s not going anywhere.”

Bonus:

“You maxed the black card again.”

Ben’s voice was low. Dangerous. He leaned in the doorway of the bedroom, one brow raised, arms crossed over his broad chest. You were sprawled on the bed in his shirt — his favorite — a lacy thong peeking beneath the hem.

You didn’t even try to hide your grin. “I looked hot doing it.”

He didn’t smile back.

Instead, he reached down, unbuckled his belt with one slow pull, and let it slide from the loops with a sharp, deliberate snap.

You sat up, heartbeat kicking up a notch. “Ben—”

“That’s not my name right now.” His eyes darkened. “Face down. Ass up.”

You scrambled into position, breath shaky, thighs already clenching.

The first crack of leather on your bare ass made you jolt with a cry.

“Daddy!” you whimpered.

“That’s right,” he growled. Another snap. “You think just ‘cause I buy you nice things, you get to act like a spoiled little slut?”

Three more sharp slaps. Each one made your ass sting, your pussy drip, your mouth moan.

“I—fuck—I’m sorry—”

“No, you’re not,” he snarled, leaning over you, gripping your hair and yanking your head back just enough to whisper in your ear. “You like getting punished. You love teasing me till I snap.”

Another crack — this one harder. You sobbed into the sheets.

“I do—I do, Daddy—please—”

His belt dropped to the floor with a heavy clink. He pulled your hips back, pressed the thick head of his cock against your soaked entrance.

“Then take your punishment like a good girl.”

And he shoved in deep.

Taglist: @globetrotter28 @adrienneleclerc @multiversefanfics @star-yawnznn

[dreamingitsover]

i’m in love with a fictional man and i want that dick more than anything, and YOUUUU my friend just made it worse in the best way

[candytoothed]

🎀 apparently u guys love my late at night drabbles so here we go! manifesting attracting spn fandom oohhmmmmm

okay but dean winchester with a gf who has a case of daddy issues

nsfw mdni. smut, praise kink, “daddy” kink, oral (f!receiving), sex yuh, switch!dean sorta?? idfk, riding, pet names (baby + sweetheart)

dean sees it in the little things.

not in some poetic, soul-mirror kind of way— he’s not that guy. he knows the look you give him when you do something as mundane as setting a plate of breakfast in front of him, like you’re waiting for a gold star. you don’t say it, but it’s in the slight lift of your brow, the hesitant twitch of your mouth. do you still like me? or am i annoying?

and yeah, you crave his attention— but it’s never loud and desperate. it's quiet, cautious, like you're scared to ask too much of him. like you're trying to make yourself smaller before he can decide you're too much.

he’s seen that before. in mirrors, in motel windows, in the way he used to look at his dad when he'd come back from a hunt— half relief, half desperation. please, just love me.

and either way, he’s always thought of you as a sweet, gentle soul who just yearned to be loved. but that’s exactly what he is too, underneath the bravado and leather jacket. a boy who learned to be a man too fast, who never figured out how to stop performing long enough to ask for what he needed.

you’d told him about your dad one late night, half-whispered, eyes on the ceiling like you didn’t really want to be saying any of it. you laughed, bitter and small, and said something about how men always made you feel like a stranger in your own skin. then you winced, like the words tasted stupid the second they were out, and tried to laugh it off.

dean wanted to fill that void in your life. he was more than glad to be the man you trusted, who you admired. and a bonus, if he could be that for you, you would stick around. you’d never leave him and he’d make you proud. he would be the absolute best, strongest gentleman you’d ever seen.

well. in his eyes, a big strong manly man did not resemble him at all in this moment.

“fuuuck..” you mewl, your hands gripping your boyfriend’s moist shoulders as you ride him with all your might. his face was twisted in his usual lust filled way, his eyes squeezed shut as tiny groans and whimpers fell from his mouth— not that he even realized, thank goodness. he’d definitely force them down if he noticed, but they were music to your ears you never wanted to end.

“ohh.. thank you..!” you squeak, bouncing on him with heavy breaths. “th- thank you, dad- dean… it’s so good…”

it’s a very quickly fixed error, but even in his dizzy, dumb state, dean caught it.

his hands on your hips tightened before sliding down and squeezing large handfuls of your ass, earning a delicious moan from you. “wha- what’s so good, baby?” he gruffs, wanting to hear more as his hips buck up feverishly.

you respond immediately, leaning down to press kisses along his neck and jaw. “you.. you you you..”

dean lets out another small whimper, his eyes opening and watching your tits bounce mesmerizingly in front of his face. he swallows hard, looking up with an eager gaze as he guides you up and down his dick. “yeah?” he hums lightly, almost unsure of what you’re saying.

“you’re so good..” you mutter, not even knowing the effect it would have on your “manly brute” of a boyfriend.

you gasp at the loss as he quickly pulls you off him, shoving you down on your back against the squeaky mattress. your eyes widen, chest heaving as you watch him slither down between your disgustingly messy thighs.

you whine as he kisses your inner thigh, picking up your head to stare at him. “oh- baby, what are you-”

“call me daddy.” he demands before licking a long stripe up your clenching pussy. you gasp again, your eyes squeezing shut instinctively. shyness floods you, and you drop your head back down against the bed with a breathy moan.

his eyes dart up to you, his thick leaky cock beginning to rut against the sheets like a horned up teen. “say it. please.” he grunts, his breath fanning your sensitive cunt before delving right in, his nose purposefully bumping your clit as he slurps your juices, not even waiting for you to say anything.

you moan loudly, your hands squeezing the bedsheets tightly. “oh god, daddy!” you whine, your hips twitching at all the stimulation, a hand coming to tug on his hair. the tight grip of your fingers curling around his locks cause a delighted hiss to slip past him, his mouth only opening wider.

“yesyesyesyes…” you babble, the squelchy gushes of your pussy and dean’s skilled tongue louder than your own voice. “mmph- i love you!”

dean groans, his tongue laying flat on your clit, shaking his head side to side quickly before replying, “i love you, sweetheart” right against you.

[dreamingitsover]

he wouldn’t even have to fucking ask me to say it bro i have no shame atp

[prettyinpeaches]

just take it

sugar daddy!Ben (SB) x brat!Reader | The Boys

NOTES: idk what to tell y’all. I got some bad news today, this made me feel better. It came out of nowhere but I hope yall like it <3 let me know what you think!

TW: brat!reader, sugar daddy!brat tamer!ben, daddy kink (reader only says it once but Ben refers to himself w/ it a few times), kind of mean ben, spanking, restraints (a belt), light aftercare, possessive language, eating off your body, sweet Ben too

The air in the suite was heavy with the scent of roses and something sweeter—something very you. Maybe the perfume he flew in from Paris because it made your skin smell “edible.” Combined with the faint scent of your body oil. Clean sheets. Lip gloss.

Bean dropped his keys and almost immediately caught sight of you on the couch.

Still in your robe. Legs bare, toes painted, fingers twirling the end of the ribbon from the lingerie box you hadn’t opened.

You were lounging like you weren’t doing it on purpose. Like you didn’t know the way your robe slipped off one shoulder. Like you weren’t waiting for him to bite.

His jaw flexed. “I told you to put on the new set.” He tipped his head towards the Agent Provocateur box. “So what the fuck is this?”

You stretched slowly, like a kitten waking up. “Didn’t feel like it.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t raise his voice. “Is that right?”

You smiled—soft, bratty, deliberate. “You got white. I was thinking pink.”

Ben crossed the room in three long strides and was on you before you could blink. You gasped as he yanked you off the couch by the waist and bent you over the armrest, one palm braced between your shoulder blades.

Your robe slid up instantly. You kicked once, breath catching, as your ass was bared to the open room.

“You think you’re so cute,” he muttered, rubbing a broad hand over the curve of your ass. “Sittin’ here like a spoiled fuckin’ brat. You want me to handle you, huh?”

“I didn’t say that,” you panted, that teasing smile still on your lips.

He leaned over, lips brushing your ear. “You didn’t have to.”

Smack.

You moaned at the first hit, knees wobbling.

He spanked you again. Then lower. Between your legs.

The sound was obscene—wet and sharp and filthy.

You whined, twisting under his hand.

“Yeah,” Ben growled. “You like that. My girl gets all pouty when she doesn’t get what she wants, so I have to come home and beat the attitude outta her pretty little pussy.”

You arched into it.

“Say it.”

“I like it,” you gasped. “I like when you spank me.”

He laughed, almost delighted. “I know you do, baby.”

He pulled you upright suddenly—hard enough to steal your breath—and hauled you into his lap as he sat back on the couch. You straddled him automatically, the robe now a mess, your thighs still trembling from the sting.

“You forget what your fuckin’ job is?” he asked, cupping your jaw with one hand. “Hmm?”

You licked your lips, the coy little upturn at the corners of your mouth ever present. “Remind me.”

Ben’s hands slid down your back, gripping your ass, guiding you against the thick press of him through his pants.

“You’re my treat. My soft little thing. My spoiled fuckin’ prize. I don’t want a girl who works, who worries, who hustles. You think I came home wantin’ a partner?”

He laughed, low and hot against your neck. “Fuck no. I want this. I want you.”

He gripped your hips, grinding you against him.

“My pretty little plaything with nothin’ on her mind but what she’s gonna wear for me and what’s on the dessert menu.”

You moaned—high and perfect, rolling your hips harder, chasing friction like it was a lifeline.

“That’s my dream,” he said, biting your shoulder. “To have my own, personal wet fuckin’ dream of a woman waiting for me, at my beck and goddamn call.”

“Then fuck me already,” you begged, nails digging into his shoulders.

He pulled you back by the throat just enough to see your face. “Oh, now she’s desperate.”

“Ben, please—”

He lifted you by the waist, stood with you in his arms, and tossed you onto the end bed like a doll. You bounced once, legs askew, robe falling fully off your shoulders.

Ben stood at the edge of the bed and undid his belt slow—watching you. Eating you alive with just his gaze.

Then he hiked one knee onto the mattress and flipped you effortlessly onto your belly, your hips right at the edge of the bed, your toes brushing the floor. “Hands behind your back.”

You obeyed instantly. Breathless.

He pulled both wrists together with his belt, snug but not tight, and pressed down on the small of your back with one hand while the other guided the thick head of his cock between your thighs.

“You don’t wanna have to think?” he growled. “Then don’t. Just take it.”

And then he was inside—deep, hard, forcing the moan out of you like he owned your lungs.

You gasped his name. He groaned into your shoulder.

“Fuck, baby. That’s it. That’s it.” He slammed into you again—again—gripping the belt between your wrists to hold you right where he wanted you. “You’re mine,” he gasped. “You hear me? My girl. My fuckin’ toy to play with.”

“Yours—yours—Ben—”

He let go of your wrists only to grab your hips—hauling you up until your knees hit the edge of the mattress, arching your back so low your spine sang.

“My favorite little thing,” he growled. “My best fuckin’ purchase. Now be good and take every inch. Make Daddy proud.”

Your back was arched so deep it burned. Wrists bound behind you, held tight in the grip of his belt. His cock was buried so deep you it felt like you couldn’t even breathe right—just little whimpers and cries every time he drove forward and stayed there, heavy, thick, relentless.

Ben was panting behind you, one hand pawing at the meat of your hips and ass, the other gripping your bound wrists and using them to fuck you back onto him like he couldn’t get deep enough.

“Look at you,” he rasped. “So fuckin’ tight. So wet. You hear that?”

You did. Sloppy, obscene, wet. Your thighs were soaked. The room was full of it—your gasps, his grunts, the slick slap of skin on skin.

“Say it,” he growled, breath hot at your ear. “Say whose pussy this is.”

“Yours,” you cried, nearly sobbing. “Ben, please—please—”

“You wanna come, baby?”

You nodded frantically.

“Then take it. Be good for me. Come while Daddy’s inside your sweet little pussy.”

He shifted—adjusted his angle, shoved deeper. You all but screamed.

“Ohhh yeah,” he grinned against your neck. “That’s it. Right fuckin’ there, huh?”

His fingers found your clit, rubbed it fast and mean. You were already unraveling. “You wanna be good, don’t you?” he cooed, thrusting through your slick. “Wanna come all over Daddy’s cock, make a fuckin’ mess, show me what I’ve been missin’ all day?”

“Yes—yes, I want—”

Another sharp slap to the same asscheek he’d been gripping minutes ago—hot and stinging, designed to make you behave.

You cried out, hips twitching.

Ben leaned down, voice thick and low at your ear. “Ask me right, or I stop.”

Your fingers clenched in the sheets.

“Please, Daddy,” you breathed, voice cracking just enough. “Please don’t stop. I’ll be good—I swear, just—please. I need it.”

You felt him smile against your skin. “Then fuckin’ take it, baby.”

You shattered—hips jolting, back bowing, mouth falling open on a soundless cry as your body seized and your cunt clenched down on him like you never wanted to let go.

“Fuuuuuck, that’s it,” Ben groaned, fucking you through it. “That’s my good girl. That’s my perfect, spoiled, wet little—fuck—”

He came with a growl—deep, rough, grinding into you as he emptied himself inside, holding you there, stuffed full, shaking under his hands.

Neither of you moved for a long moment.

Just breathing.

Sweating.

Your cheek was pressed to the bedspread, wrists still bound, thighs twitching.

Ben slowly let go of the belt, his touch turning gentle, reverent. He kissed between your shoulder blades. Pulled out of you with a low hiss, then reached for the silk robe and wiped the mess running down your thighs.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured, dragging the soft cloth between your legs. “Talk to me.”

You nodded, dazed. “So good…”

He smiled—softer now—and undid the belt around your wrists, rubbing the marks with warm, careful hands. You flexed your fingers as you rolled onto your beck, letting him hold them and scan over your wrists.

Then he lifted you—effortless—and pulled you into his lap and you both up against the headboard, chest to chest, his arms wrapped around your back like he was keeping you close just in case you tried to float away.

“Look at me.”

You did.

His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen, but softer, too.

“You know I want you like this, right?” he asked quietly, brushing hair off your face. “That this thing we do? That’s not just for show?”

You nodded, throat a little thick. “I know.”

He kissed your forehead.

“Good,” he murmured. “Then let’s get you into that pretty white set and order enough dessert to piss off the chefs.”

It was after midnight, but the suite still felt warm—like something decadent had happened there and the air hadn’t quite recovered.

You were curled in his lap sideways, thighs draped over one of his, legs bare, that perfect white set finally clinging to your skin the way it was meant to. He’d made you put it on after he cleaned you up, said it would be a shame to waste it. You hadn’t even protested—not when he’d dropped soft kisses over your thighs while doing the clasps himself.

Now, you were sticky with sugar.

Literally.

He’d ordered a tower of desserts while you were in the bath. Half of it had ended up between your lips. The other half—melted chocolate, strawberry glaze, powdered sugar—had somehow ended up on your thighs, your belly, your tits.

And Ben was slowly cleaning it off with his mouth.

You giggled as his tongue dragged lazily up your inner thigh, catching the drip of crème brûlée custard he’d smeared there just to have an excuse to put his mouth on you—as if he really needed one.

He groaned. “You taste better than the fuckin’ dessert.”

“You’re gonna make me all sticky again.”

“You’re already sticky.” He kissed the top of your thigh, his hand stroking idly over the other. “You’re always sticky after I’m done with you.”

You slapped his chest—playful.

He caught your hand and kissed your knuckles like a gentleman. His version of a gentleman, at least.

“You wearin’ this little get up for me?” he asked, voice low and soft and smug.

“You made me put it on,” you rolled your eyes, smiling all the while.

“Damn right I did.” He traced the edge of the lace over your hip. “And now you look like a doll someone forgot to put away.”

You wiggled in his lap. “You’re obsessed.”

Ben caught your chin and kissed you, slow and warm, his thumb stroking under your jaw. “I am.”

He meant it.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, then pulled back just enough to press a cherry from the tray to your lips. “Open.”

You did, and he pushed it in with his thumb, eyes locked on your mouth as you sucked the juice off slowly.

He groaned—low and filthy. “Christ, baby. I could watch you like this for the rest of my life.”

“Because I look hot, or because you like feeding me?”

He grinned. “Both. You know what does it for me?”

You raised a brow.

“You. With all the sugar in the world on your tongue and nothin’ on your mind.”

You flushed, but he didn’t let up.

“All soft and sweet and lazy. Needy as hell. That’s my favorite version of you. When you let me spoil you. When you let me have you, just like this.”

He kissed your shoulder. Then the spot just beneath your collarbone. Then bent and kissed your belly—slow, warm, tender.

“You feelin’ good?” he asked softly.

“Better than good.”

He smiled, satisfied, and laid back against the cushions, pulling you with him so your cheek was on his chest.

“Good,” he said. “’Cause we’re doin’ all of it again in the morning.”

TAGLIST @spxideyver @tendertulip @n-o-p-e-never @suckitands33 @lunaleah @fandomchik @tinas111 @0ccvltism @cupidzbunny @losers-clvb @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @thatg8rl @fratboychrisera @angelically-yours @dina-winchester @maneaterarabella @ralilda @claireyoucandobeddor @ilikw @lupinslibraries @ladykitana90 @kyleighsstuff @deans-yn @k-illdarlings @ohperiodtpoohhh @poisonivy2267 @scrmqwn @sadpods @mochminnie @estelleyyyy @spookyysinsanity

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my general taglist 🤍

[dreamingitsover]

i’m tweaking tf out with need bro 😭😭😭

[beecomingnothing]

──────── ⋆˚꩜｡ S T R O K E C O U N T P.4 ⚐

cw: cartgirl!reader x golfer!jensen.ᐟ cheating.ᐟ age gap.ᐟ tension.ᐟ flirting.ᐟ pet names [sweetheart, pretty girl].ᐟ sex [p in v].ᐟ risk of getting caught.ᐟ ‘dirty secret’.ᐟ 18+

part one here — part two here — part three here

bee yaps:

۫ ꣑ৎ alright this is for anyone who wanted a part four. I don’t really like the ending but I’m tired okayyy!!

۫ ꣑ৎ i don’t condone cheating, this is all in the state of pure fiction .ᐟ

the ringtone sliced through the intensity like a knife. part of you wanted to get the hell out of there, get your clothes and run, the other half too turned on to do a damn thing about it.

"fuck" he barely flinched. just sighed almost annoyed, and dragged the phone off the nightstand with two fingers.

you were still trembling,naked beneath him, lips swollen and breath shaky from where you’d just licked your own arousal off his wedding band.

your thighs twitched around his hips, overstimulated and burning for more, but the second he saw the name on the screen, a coolness settled behind his eyes.

“hey, sweetheart" he said smoothly, voice dipping into that familiar soft drawl, the exact same tone he used the day you met him out working the beverage cart. warm, easy and charismatic.

the voice of a man you hadn’t known was married.

your blood ran hot. feeling shameful and desperate all at once. his hand slid up your bare thigh, slow and deliberate. dragging goosebumps in its wake. two fingers curled under your knee, guiding your leg to hook higher around his waist.

your breath hitched when you felt the hard press of him, thick and ready dragging against your slick cunt. arousal clearly giving away any protest of not wanting him the way you wished you would.

“yeah, no, it’s been a long one—” he said into the phone, shifting his weight so his cock rested right at your entrance, heavy and glossy with pre-cum. “meetings all day".

then he gave you a look. a sly dark look that said all the words he didn't have to say...

don’t dare make a sound.

your heart thundered as he started to push in. inch by inch, stretching you open around him so achingly slow it made your toes curl, teeth digging into your bottom lip, breath stuck in your throat. he was big, so fucking big, and every inch made your body tighten, squeezing around him as your fingers gripped the sheets in a white knuckled plea.

“nah, didn’t even have time for lunch” he added, casual and sweet, like he wasn’t pressing you to the hilt, with a groan muffled by ‘clearing his throat’. “but i’m unwinding now. hittin' the course with the boys".

his gaze locked on yours then, almost cruel with how knowing it was. unwinding. 

you were how he was unwinding. not a round of golf. not a cold beer. you and your sweet pussy.

you almost choked on your own spit when his hips rolled forward, shallow and slow, dragging the full length of him against your sensitive walls. you bit your lip hard to stay silent, tears springing to your eyes at the pressure and the way your body clenched, needing him to move more.

but you couldn’t. it was too much.

a soft, broken sound escaped you, a whimper laced with pleasure and disbelief, and his eyes narrowed sharply. his free hand moved fast, slipping between your lips and pressing two fingers deep into your mouth. your jaw stretched to accommodate him, the pads of his fingers resting heavy on your tongue to silence you.

“be good for me” he murmured pressing the phone on mute for a split second. his thumb brushed your cheek gently, but his eyes were firm. “i know y’can do it”.

then he thrust again, deeper this time, hips slamming flush to yours in one slow, devastating push. your nails dug into his biceps, the stretch of him and the burn of holding back coiling in your gut like a live wire.

“mmh, love you too” he said into the phone with such polished adoration that it made your stomach twist "can't wait to see you too baby, mmhm, bye".

he ended the call with a low grunt, tossing the phone back onto the nightstand without a second glance. and then, his hands were on you. gripping your waist, yanking you up with almost no effort, his mouth hot against your neck.

“get. up.” he rasped.

your legs wobbled, but he manhandled you until your feet touched the cold hardwood and he spun you toward the window. the long, sheer curtains danced in the evenings breeze from a cracked pane. it barely concealed anything. you could see the dimly lit fairways of the course outside, empty and quiet in the sunset.

his firm grasp guided you to press against the floor-length window, cheek smooshed against it's cold surface, tits pressed tightly into it too.

“y'feel bad?” he growled as he pushed inside you again, deeper this time, making your breath catch in your throat. “you should. letting a married man fuck you".

the window fogged up with your a mix of your gasps and saliva. palms flattening against the glass as his hips snapped forward, relentless and punishing, making your thighs tremble.

you tried to speak, but the only thing that came out was a broken moan.

“what was that?” he said, leaning in close, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “should i stop?”

your eyes welled, lashes damp with heat and confusion and pleasure so sharp it was almost pain.

“no” you whispered, voice cracking, slurping up the drool that managed to seep out.

he pulled almost all the way out, making you whine in protest, then stilled.

“then say it”

you swallowed hard “i— i don’t want you to stop”.

he grunted, satisfaction curling in his voice like smoke “s’not what i asked”.

he slammed back in, burying himself to the hilt, earning a mewl from you.

“tell me you like getting fucked by a married man” with a sharp sting on your ass as he slapped it.

you sobbed, forehead pressed to the glass, the shame making your skin burn and your cunt clench even tighter around him.

“i like it” you breath “i like getting fucked by a married man—please”.

his hand curved around your throat, not tight but just enough pressure to anchor you there, to make sure you felt the weight of what you were doing. of what he was doing to you.

his hips moved with sharp purpose, a rhythm that bordered cruel if not for the soft little praises that slipped through between thrusts.

“christ, sweet girl, not all just pretty looks, are you?” he gritted “makin’ me forget i gotta whole wife waiting at home”

your hands scrabbled against the windowpane, searching for something to hold onto that didn’t exist. nothing to ground you except him. his raspy voice, his firm body pressing into you, the filthy relentless slide of his cock molding into you.

he leaned in again, his chest flush to your back, and the roughness of his stubble scraped your ear as he growled “bet y’thought about this the past few weeks, haven’t you?”

you nodded, barely, feeling your own juices drip down the insides of your thighs.

“thought about me bending you over right here, where anyone could see. letting me use this pretty body while i lie to my wife on the phone?”

your teeth sank into your lower lip, tears clinging to your lashes. you didn’t trust yourself to answer, not when your knees were buckling, not when the glass was trembling with the force of his thrusts.

but that only seemed to spur him on further.

he slipped two fingers past your lips once again, hooking the side of your mouth open, his favourite place to put them. “c’mon, tell me you like being my dirty secret”

your moan echoed against his fingers, eyes fluttering shut as you sucked on the digits instinctively. he groaned low in his throat, hips stuttering slightly.

“fuckin christ—” he breathed “so goddamn messy for me. drooling all over my fingers while i split you open”.

you tried to speak, tried to tell him how good it felt, how deep he was, but it was all muffled. nothing but wet creamy skin-smacking-skin filling the room.

his pace slowed, pulling out with a sloppy squelch.

his hands slide down, gripping beneath your thighs and hoisting you up with practiced strength before you can blink.

suddenly you’re weightless, scooped up like nothing, your back pressed flush to the cool glass as he holds you there. strong arms gripping the fat of your ass, body caged around yours.

you wrap around him on instinct, like some sort of second nature, arms clinging behind his neck, legs locked around his waist.

“gonna miss my pretty girl…” he groans again, thrusts back in slow but deep, “this pussy—fuck—it’s gonna haunt me”.

your heat wrapped around him, your soft little gasps at his ear, everything was blurring the lines of responsibility, of the pressure of his life back home.

his forehead drops to yours, sweat beading at his temple as he breathes you in like he’s already gone.

“you’re gonna ruin me, y’know that?” he murmurs, voice rough but quiet. “one more day and i’m gone, and all i’ll be thinking about is this.” his hips roll into you, deep and steady, and you keen into his mouth when he kisses you. messy, open-mouthed, tongues slow and wet as he fucks you right against the glass.

“every swing, every hole—fuck” he groans, swallowing your words, “gonna see you everywhere on that course. my pretty girl with this sweet mouth and this perfect fuckin’ cunt.”

you nod helplessly, arms winding tighter around his neck. your body gives another needy pulse around him, and he groans deep in his chest, lost in it, in you.

“gonna miss me too, huh?” he smiles a little, lips ghosting along your jaw, teeth grazing just enough to make you chuckle shyly.

“yeah?” he mutters, dragging his nose along your cheek, kissing the corner of your mouth like it’s a secret.

“look at me” he growls, voice thick with something greedy, almost possessive. his hips slam up hard, by the grasp of your ass in his hands. flesh smacking loud and wet between you, and your eyes flutter but you obey.

his stare pins you in place intense, like you can barely keep the eye contact. like he’s memorizing your fucked out face, the hazy lust filled eyes, glistening parted lips.

with a few more brutal thrust up into you, his breaking point comes with a loud groan. “fuuuuck” he pants, lips hot against your skin, voice trembling as he spills into your slick cunt.

“always gonna be my pretty girl, don’t forget it ‘cause i’ll be back” he murmurs, a soft kiss to your forehead.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes @deanstubble @sunnyteume

[dreamingitsover]

i don’t usually read RPF but idgaf this was good as hell. the part where - AHHHH

“tell me you like getting fucked by a married man” OH DEAR LORDDDDD I GUESS I FUCKING DO NOW??!!!!

[beecomingnothing]

cw: smut.ᐟ video call teasing.ᐟ soft dom!ben.ᐟ spanking.ᐟ cockwarming.ᐟ reverse cowgirl.ᐟ degradation kink.ᐟ punishment.ᐟ possessive!ben.ᐟ filthy talk.ᐟ power play.ᐟ pet names [good girl, baby, sweetheart, slut].ᐟ 18+

#notes: sorry not sorry for this ovulation week post.

all i can think about is giving ben a boner while he’s on call…

“fucking stop it.” ben’s voice is quiet, almost a growl behind gritted teeth.

you hum all sweet under your breath, sliding past where he’s sitting on the couch, feet propped up, laptop balanced on one thigh.

the vought executives are babbling about something— some boring new endorsement offers, which fucking comic line they want him to smile for next.

and ben’s trying to stay still.

but you— you’ve got that smug little bounce in your step. his shirt hanging loose off one shoulder, hem just barely covering your ass. no bra. no panties. he knows, because every time you bend down, you flash him that pretty little cunt like it’s an ‘accident’. and now you’re really playing with him.

you lean over the arm of the couch to ‘grab something’— stretched out, your ass jiggling right near his lap. and ben’s eyes drop like a moth to a flame. the shirt rides up just enough. soft thighs, creamy skin, the outline of your pussy lips parting as you bend.

his cock throbs, hard as steel. he has been for the last twenty-minutes.

he shifts in his seat, crossing his ankles tighter, like that’ll stop the aching throb under his zipper. like his cock isn’t already swelling against the seam of his pants, leaking, begging for friction.

you glance over your shoulder like you didn’t notice. as if you didn’t just ruin his fucking train of thought for the tenth time since this call started.

“jesus fucking christ,” ben mutters under his breath, jaw tightening. and the voice on call drones on.

you walk by again, fingertips trailing through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his temple like it’s nothing.

he fucking twitches in place, eyes flutter. cock dribbling pre-cum against the confines of his boxers.

you act like you have no clue what you’re doing to him— but you do. and it’s on purpose.

he can feel it. you’re prancing around, all sweet smiles and little sighs, pretending you’re just tidying up, just folding laundry, just making tea— but your hips swing like you want him to stare. your body brushes against his arm every pass like you need him to snap.

“i said, fuckin’ stop it,” he hisses, yanking his mic on mute. “you wanna be a brat? keep pushin’ and see what happens when this ends.”

and you giggle in response.

his hips rut up once— subtlety, grinding down into the heel of his palm as discreetly as he can. and he’s a fucking mess.

every breath is a fight now. every shift of your body sets him off. then you drop a tea towel and bend down slow, reaching for it like you’re in a vintage pinup calendar.

your thighs part. his shirt lifts. and he sees everything— wet, bare pussy. the sound that rips out of his throat is nothing more than feral. he turns his camera off, doesn’t log out, doesn’t even wait for the call to end. just flips the laptop shut and stands.

“nah, fuck this,” he snarls. and before you can turn around, he’s on you. grabs your wrist, yanks you over his thigh like a ragdoll, and tears the shirt up your back.

“you think this is funny?” his voice is rough in your ear, fingers curling tight around your hips. “you think i’m gonna sit there with my dick hard for forty fuckin’ minutes while you wag your ass in my face?”

your legs kick, half a squeal, half a gasp— but he’s already tugging your shirt up.

his hand slaps down hard across your bare ass. you jolt with a cry, stinging heat blooming where his palm lands.

“should spank this little cunt too,” he growls, voice full of need. “maybe that’ll remind you what happens when you act like a fuckin’ tease.”

his cock grinds against your hip now. stiff, heavy, still trapped in his pants, like a fucking prisoner.

another smack.

this time lower. right across your pussy lips. your head’s woozy bent over his lap. he grabs your thighs and holds you still.

“no,” he grits. “you wanted attention. now you’re fuckin’ gettin’ it.”

he spanks again— over your cunt, sharper this time. the sound it makes was nothing shy of slick and wet.smearing your own arousal on yourself.

you’re moaning now. clenching around nothing, skin prickling, whining under your breath as he rubs his palm over the red-hot fat of your ass cheeks.

“better start apologizing, sweetheart,” ben mutters. “or m’gonna put you on call next time. make you sit on my cock and let ‘em see exactly how much of a mess you make when you act like a slut in my house.”

you squirm in his grip, lips parted, breath catching— because he’s serious, you don’t doubt that for a second. there’s a fire in his voice that makes your cunt pulse.

he smacks your cunt again, harder, right on your clit. your breath leaves in a shaky whimper.

“yeah, s’what i thought,” he mutters. “needy little cunts always gotta be stuffed, huh? can’t even behave when i’m workin’. just gotta walk around beggin’ like a goddamn slut.”

his words burn, dragging slick through your core— your clit throbbing under the pressure of his hand.

“you wanted attention?” he rasps, grabbing your jaw so you’re forced to look at him, lip trembling under his grip. “you got it. now take your fuckin’ punishment like a good girl.”

you whimper like a petulant child. hips twitching with no relief. your thighs ache from being spread across his lap, but he doesn’t let up. again and again. until you’re babbling out nonsense, tears prickling at your lashes, hips rolling involuntarily toward the heat of his hand.

“squirming, beggin’ for it. that’s what you wanted, huh? wanted me to break focus and remind you who owns this fuckin’ cunt?”

“yes,” you gasp out, a sob caught in your throat. “yes— i’ll be good, i promise.”

his hand stills on your ass, gripping tight. “damn right you will.”

and then without warning— he lifts you. makes a noise low in his chest as he stands, arms like steel under your thighs, your body limp with arousal and submission.

he drops back onto the cushions and pulls you onto his lap, facing away, back flush against his muscular chest. one big hand pushes your thighs apart, the other wraps tight around your waist as he lines his cock up— pressing the fat red head between your slick lips.

he drags it through over and over until the shaft is soaking in your mess. and then he sinks you down on him. all of him, all at once. no warning, just thick veiny cock stretching you full.

you gasp. your thighs shake. your nails scrape down his forearms as your hips jerk. but he holds you still. buries you there, locked in place.

“shhh,” he murmurs, nose nuzzling behind your ear. “m’not done workin’.”

your breath hitches. “w— what?”

he reaches for the laptop with one hand, camera flipped open again, mic toggled on. his cock throbs deep inside you, unmoving. so thick, the ache becoming unbearable to sit still.

“you’re gonna sit there nice and pretty,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “keep my cock warm while i finish this bullshit.”

you start to wiggle, feeling him nudging at your cervix— but his arm tightens instantly, holding you still.

“uh—uh,” he warns, voice dark and delicious. “you move, and you’re gettin’ bent over this couch once i hang up.” then, almost a whisper—“behave, baby.”

and just like that, the meeting resumed. his voice is calm, his tone, smooth. ben’s got that charming smile and the excuse that you’re just ‘joining in’ for the meeting with him.

but below the angle of the camera, you’re stuffed full of his cock, cunt fluttering around him, dripping creamy slick down his thighs while he pretends nothing’s wrong.

and you can’t even make a sound.

because you know damn well ben will make good on every single one of those threats.

divider creds

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes @deanstubble @sunnyteume @titsout4jackles @sunnyfuffly @deansbeer @claymoresofinfamy23 @beforeroachfalls @capkatie @kamisobsessed @thesevnthseal @lunaleah

[dreamingitsover]

you and your stories make me literally convulse with fucking need omg

[beecomingnothing]

This might be a little too age play-esq and if so or you’re not comfy with it, please just delete it and accept my apologies 🤎🤎

But after your s.b. oral fixation blurb, all I can think about is Ben actually getting you a pacifier and popping it in your mouth begrudgingly when he has to leave or is busy doing something that requires both hands and his cock free

cw: smut.ᐟ oral fixation.ᐟ soft!ben.ᐟ pacifier use [non-age play].ᐟ pet name [sweetheart, baby].ᐟ 18+

hi anon, hope you like this drabble!

you’d been squirming in ben's lap all morning, mouthing at his fingers, kissing over the waistband of his jeans, nuzzling your cheek against his thigh like some heat-drunk thing, desperate to suck on something.

and ben, god, he was trying to be good. trying to finish fixing that cabinet hinge with his big hands covered in mess and dirt. trying to get anything done with you in nothing but one of his old oversized tees and a glossy-eyed pout.

“jesus fucking christ,” he muttered, tossing the screwdriver down with a clink. “you’re like a god damn baby bird with those lips. always wantin’ something.”

you blinked up at him, lashes fluttering. and it was clear, exactly what you were hoping he’d give you.

but his zipper stayed up.

“nope, not now sweetheart, m'busy” he grunted, pushing back from the table. disappearing into the bedroom for all of a minute before returning with a small, shamefully pink thing pinched between two fingers.

your eyes widened.

“don’t give me that look,” he said gruffly, and you swore you could see the tip of his ears go red. “you kept whinin’ about needing somethin’ to suck on, so here.”

then he crouched, hand on your chin, and popped it right between your lips. plastic and humiliating and exactly what your mouth had been begging for.

“there,” he said, palming your cheek for a second. “should keep you quiet, 'til i’m done. can't get a damn thing done with you 'round, i swear.”

and it did, almost. you were quiet sure— but not still. thighs rubbing, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt, wide eyes never leaving his face while you suckled slow and soft, like you were pretending it was him.

and ben tried to ignore the growing tent in his jeans. tried to ignore the way his voice dropped when he glanced over and murmured “you look real pretty like that, baby.”

but you knew as soon as he’d finish with the ‘manly stuff’ as you called it, he’d be giving your mouth the proper thing to suck on.

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes @deanstubble @sunnyteume @titsout4jackles @sunnyfuffly @deansbeer @littlesoulshine @claymoresofinfamy23 @beforeroachfalls @capkatie

if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist pls comment or private message me ༝༚༝༚

[dreamingitsover]

OHHHHH BOYYYYYY. this is something i would lowkey die for

[beecomingnothing]

cw: smut.ᐟ oral [m.receiving].ᐟ soft&dom!ben.ᐟ praise kink.ᐟ daddy kink.ᐟ light humiliation.ᐟ glasses kink [kinda].ᐟ face fucking.ᐟ spit everywheres.ᐟ cum on face&glasses.ᐟ pet names [bunny, sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl].ᐟ sloppy and messy.ᐟ 18+

wc: 1500

۫ ꣑ৎ bee yaps: absolute filth. reader calls him daddy a few times, there's the warning. also for any of the glass-wearing girls!! if you’re not into it pls don’t read!! ༝༚༝༚

you were already on your knees, naked and waiting, glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose. those same pretty frames he couldn’t stop looking at, being the only thing you had on.

ben was still fully dressed, boots on, shirt clinging tight to his chest, belt buckle glinting in the dim light. he hadn’t even touched himself yet. just stood there in front of you, arms folded and watching you squirm. thighs pressed together, eyes wide and glossy.

his hand dragged along your cheek, fingers tilting your face up until you were looking at him. your lips were parted, breath warm and damp with spit. and that look in your eyes, fuck, he could’ve come from that alone, so desperate to please.

“undo it then” he said lowly, like it was something you’d both been waiting on. “use those pretty little hands and take my belt off, bunny.”

your fingers fumbled with the metal buckle, shaky and eager. ben didn’t help, just stood there watching while you pulled the leather strap free from the loops, slow and reverent.

your hands hovered for a second, then slid down, popping the button open, easing the zipper down. the unmistakable rasp of metal teeth slipping apart.

your eyes dart from ben's down to his crotch. the denim parted just enough for the thick outline of his cock to press forward, straining against the dark fabric of his boxers. already hard and already waiting for you.

he tugged at the waistband, enough to free himself, almost bobbing out to smack you in the face. wrapping one hand around the thick base of his cock, slow strokes as he stepped closer. “y'gonna be a good bunny for me?”

you nodded quick, voice already a soft whimper. “m’gonna be good, i promise, please daddy—”

he cut you off with the first tap of his cock against your cheek. light at first, then firmer, each one nudging your head with the weight of him.

your breath hitched, lashes fluttering, but you didn’t pull away, letting him do it. his smirk twitched, smug and lazy, and then he smeared his pearly pre-cum across your cheek in messy strokes. warm and wet.

“that so hm?” he muttered, sliding the tip along your jaw. “say it again.”

you stuck your tongue out, already drooling at the thought of tasting him.

“i’ll be good” you whispered, eyes locked on his. “i'll be a good bunny i promise. please let me taste it—” you squirm.

he groaned low as he dragged the flushed head across your other cheek, the mess glistening on your skin. a bead of spit slipped from the corner of your mouth.

“gonna let me use this mouth?” he rasped.

you nodded again without thinking. his grip on his cock tightened.

“words"

“yes” you whispered, breathless. “wanna be good, wanna make you feel good."

he exhaled hard through his nose, jaw clenched. “then open up. lemme see that tongue.”

you did as he asked, pink tongue flicking out, lips parting wide. he tapped the tip against it once, then again, smearing precum over the warm slick of your tastebuds.

“y’sure you can fit more this time, baby?” he asked, brushing your hair back with one steady hand.

you nodded fast. the ache between your legs making a mess. so much of a mess, you slipped a few delicate fingers down to ease some of that throbbing tension.

ben noticed. the little shift in your hip, a hand disappearing between your legs to touch yourself. the way your eyes fluttered with heat.

“nu-uh bad bunnies don’t get what they want,” he tsked. “and impatient ones? they get teased.”

he tapped two fingers against your lips. “open up, bunny. let me see how sweet that mouth is.”

you obeyed, lips parting, letting his fingers slide over your tongue. thick and slow. your spit coated them immediately, your lips sucking obediently around each pump.

he pulled them free with a wet sound, a string of your saliva stretching between them. then he fisted your hair and tugged your head back, just enough to look you in the eye.

“tongue out for me”

you flicked it out again, and he finally guided his cock to your mouth, letting the head drag slowly across your plump bottom lip. he tapped it once, twice, then again harder, the wet plop sound echoing.

“go on” he rasped, thumb at your chin. “don’t be scared now sweetheart.”

you leaned forward, licking up the underside of his cock, slow and deliberate. he was warm and heavy, the thick vein along the bottom throbbing against your tongue. every ridge, every pulse, every twitch burned into your memory.

“fuck—” he groaned, head tilting back for a split second. “feel how hard you make me, bunny?”

you nodded, lips wrapping around the head. your tongue swirled over the tip in slow, teasing circles. he tasted like salt, something earthy and heady, and completely addictive.

it made your pussy ache and lips suck harder.

inch by inch, you worked your way down, your jaw stretching, lips slick with spit. two hands curled around the base to steady what you couldn’t yet fit. tears pricked your eyes, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

you pulled back for air, panting, spit strings coating your lips and his cock. and still it wasn’t enough. the ache in your core throbbed, sharp and insistent at how empty you were.

you took a hand off him and drifted lower. pressing your fingers against the slick heat between your thighs, dragging them over your clit, just once.

ben’s eyes dropped. “what’s that hand doin’, bunny?”

your lips parted, but you kept touching yourself. slow circles. shame blooming in your chest.

he gripped your hair tighter, not to hurt, just to anchor. “you that fuckin' needy?” he growled. “got a cock in your face and still need your fingers on that pretty cunt?”

you nodded, nuzzling against his shaft, kissing the base. closing your eyes when his hips rocked forwards. throat fluttering around him, spit bubbling at the corners of your lips. he moaned, deep and low, when you took him again.

your lips dragged down to his balls, mouth wet and eager. you licked over one, then sucked it in, soft and slow. your hand still pumping his cock. your eyes lifted up, glassy and wide, while your tongue swirled around each jewel like you’d done it a hundred times.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked. “makin’ such a mess of yourself."

you let them go with a soft pop, dragging your tongue back up. your jaw ached from being stretched. your fingers were soaked, cunt throbbed with every grunt that left his mouth.

“jaw hurtin’ yet, bunny?” he asked, thumb brushing your spit-slick cheek. “droolin’ all over me, fuck m'gonna cum.”

you choked around him again, trying your best to take as much was you could. spit splattering your chin and drooling down to your breasts. when you pulled back, a thick string connected your lips to the flushed, twitching head of his cock.

“please… please wanna make you cum" you mumbled.

his thumb caught your lip, slick and hot. “you want it, huh?” he hummed. “y'wanna wear it like a pretty girl?”

“say it” he muttered, voice low and hungry. “tell me to paint this pretty fuckin’ face with cum.”

you tried, your voice cracked around him, muffled and useless. your nails dug into his thighs, clawing red lines that surely would be there later.

but ben saw it in your eyes, the pleading doe-eyed look you gave him, and that was all it took.

pulling out of your mouth he groaned deep as he pumped himself a few times, rough and sticky. aligning the swollen tip right against your glass frames.

and when he came, it was hot and heavy splatting across your face. you whimpered closing your eyes at the weight of it, sticky and warm, dripping across your cheeks, your lips, and the curve of your chin.

your glasses caught the brunt of it. splattered with creamy streaks that clung to the lenses. you blinked behind them, dazed, trying to focus.

ben let out a noise, half-laugh, half-moan. he reached down, dragging a thick smear of his release across the glass with two fingers.

“can’t even see straight now, can you?” his lips twitched in a smile. “made a fuckin’ mess of you, bunny.”

you nodded, lips still parted, breath caught in your chest.

his thumb tilted your chin, holding you there, eyes locked on the wrecked mess of your face.

“come here,” he said, already pulling you up, into his arms like you weighed nothing. his fingers caught another glistening stripe off your cheek and brought it down to your lips.

“open up, sweetheart.”

you did, cheeks hollowing around his thumb as you sucked him clean without hesitation.

his hand cradled your head, brushing your jaw as he watched you.

“could keep you like this forever,” he murmured, soft and sincere. “right here, all sweet. ain’t nothin’ better than this.”

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes @deanstubble @sunnyteume @titsout4jackles @sunnyfuffly @deansbeer

if you'd like to be added / removed for the taglist pls comment or private message me ༝༚༝༚

[dreamingitsover]

this is the type of life i deserve dammit

also you always write him sooooo damn well and he’s always so hot 😭

[bruisedfig]

୨ৎ — thinking about SOLDIER BOY holding you down and forcing you to take his fingers…

summary: left alone once again to babysit the infamous supe in a dingy motel, but he’s finally had enough of your quick mouth and rejection towards his unwanted advances.

warnings: smut, dubcon, forced fingering, mention of hitting/smacking, ben being foul, slight manhandling, forced proximity? (soldier boy x mouthy!fem!reader) 18+

wc: 2.7k

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

you were curled up on the end of the motel couch, opposite soldier boy, trying to avoid meeting his dreaded stare. his lustful eyes roamed over you—you could feel the way he practically undressed you in his mind—and it sickened you.

he was a pig.

and he’d been a pig since the minute he’d met you, throwing out half-assed comments just to irk you, like how “women didn’t dress like you in his day” and how “thighs like yours are ones he’d be happy to die between.”

you were beyond repulsed by ben and more than tired of the constant barrage of unwelcome propositions. you thought he was revolting; you’d physically recoil anytime his booming voice filled the room with another vulgar comment, but somewhere deep down… there was always a tiny little flicker in your stomach that made your core clench.

“babydoll…”

eugh… you felt his gaze turn to you, abandoning the old army show rerun on the box television, and instead falling over you with an obvious desire.

“c’mon, don’t ignore me now. it’s rude, don’t you know?” he continued, dragging out his words, all low and velvety smooth.

you didn’t dare look up from your phone; you didn’t want to—engaging in any kind of conversation with ben was redundant. you didn’t need to hear the repeat stories of his glory days or the time he had sex with a celebrity that was long dead by now.

“hey, i’m talking to you,” ben huffed, tilting his head. “c’mere.”

that got your attention… unfortunately. you let your eyes lift up from your phone screen, meeting his, which shone with his typical glimmer of arrogance.

“there she is.”

you sighed, “can you zip it? just go back to watching your show.” you waved a dismissive hand at him and looked back down at your phone, intending to keep doomscrolling like you’d been doing since butcher dropped you off to ‘babysit’ this morning.

“jesus– can you not be on that fucking little screen thing for five minutes? i said c’mere. don’t give me attitude.” ben patted the sofa cushion next to him, the one between you both, his hand lingering on the fabric as he watched you, waiting.

“ben,” you lifted your gaze again, “i’m not interested in whatever little game you’re–”

before you could comprehend it, ben’s hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you over to him in one smooth motion. a loud yelp punched its way out of your throat at the sudden movement. he was quick to manhandle you onto his lap, his hands resting on the plush of your thighs.

your brain eventually caught up, and you huffed, angry and full of disgust. “no, let me off now,” you scoffed.

ben chuckled, the sound low and full of mirth. “no can do, babydoll. got you right where i want ya.”

you sneered and tried to pull yourself away, but ben’s hands were quick, tugging you right back down onto his lap, holding you there with a force that he had lacked before, dipping into his ungodly strength. “don’t. you’re staying here while i watch my show, toots. so get comfortable.”

the sneer on your face worsened—an ugly expression that pulled at your features. it only made ben smirk more.

“no, let me off now!”

ben tutted, shaking his head in amusement. “such a mouthy little thing. y’got no survival instincts, do you, darlin’? talking back to a man like me? i could snap you in half without breakin’ a sweat,” he mused, his calloused hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

you shuddered at his touch and narrowed your eyes at his words. “yeah? so do it then. snap me in half if you’re so fucking eager.”

ben laughed again, this time a deep chortle right from his core. “aww, angel, don’t poke the bear. i’ve hit a lot of mouthy little girls for less.”

“yeah? did you feel good putting your hands on them? do you feel good putting your hands on me, huh? do you feel big and strong?” you continued, letting your mouth fly as usual, an unabashed confidence dripping from your biting tone.

ben watched as you spoke, his face contorting with sheer amusement and intrigue. no girl had ever talked to him like that—so loud and unapologetically direct. it was a nice change of pace, ben figured, but he was not a man to tolerate disrespect, and so he decided it wouldn’t hurt to push you just a little bit further.

“oh, it felt real good, honey… but i bet it’d be even better seeing your face all red and blotchy from a few smacks. bet you’d be one of those blubbering little things, probably beggin’ me to stop cause it hurts or some other fuckin’ bullshit.”

he watched your eyes narrow once more, the cogs in your head spinning as you absorbed his words.

“you’re a sexist pig,” you finally spat out.

“yeah, maybe i am. but you’re not fighting to get off my lap anymore,” he chuckled, squeezing at your thighs.

you groaned angrily, starting back up again, squirming in his lap, trying to pull away.

“let go!”

“no, sweets. you’re stayin’ here until my show’s over. i want some company, and you’re the only one here.”

“i was fine sitting over there!”

“and now you’re fine here. so shut up and relax, or i’ll make you.”

your lip curled. you could tell by the look on ben’s face and the way his hands were massaging your thighs that he was serious. you didn’t dare acknowledge the strange feeling the contact was inducing in your stomach.

“no,” you tried.

“yes.”

“no, let me off.”

“nope, stay fuckin’ still. you can get off when my show’s over, alright? just another thirty minutes. you can handle that, can’t you? you’re a big girl,” ben cooed, though it was anything but sweet, instead a taunt to rile you up further.

you paused at his tone, taking a moment to study his face. his brows raised, his expression daring you to challenge him again, and his plump pink lips were still curved into his stupid smirk.

you swallowed down your bruised pride before sighing. “do you promise? thirty minutes?”

“i do, doll. thirty minutes and you can get up and sit as far away from me as y’like.”

you huffed, taking another moment to decide. you were beyond repulsed, but his grabby hands, which you knew hid scary amounts of superstrength, made you think twice.

“fine. thirty minutes.”

“mhm, just thirty minutes.”

ben’s head tilted at your words, his green eyes flickering between yours in satisfaction.

“get comfortable then, girly.”

you huffed, holding in a deeper groan of frustration, and leaned down, reluctantly pressing against him as you rested your head on his shoulder. your arms came around his head, and you settled in—albeit a little uncomfortably—and started scrolling on your phone once more on the back of the couch.

ben enjoyed the way you gave in and pressed against him, the complete contact of your chest against his lighting a fire in his stomach. “atta girl. get cozy f’me,” he cooed again, letting his arms wrap around you.

his warm hands gently rubbed up and down your back, somewhat mindlessly, as he went back to watching the television.

the time quickly passed, and your body slowly melted into his as your anger from before began to settle. you scrolled through your internet trash, whatever was on your feed, just to give yourself something to do as ben’s hands gently travelled over you.

though eventually, his hands had made their way down and met the back of your thighs, gripping at your flesh softly. you sighed quietly to yourself; you expected this—ben trying to cop a feel—so you ignored it, vowing to just push through until his stupid fucking show finished.

but as the minutes passed, ben’s hands got a little more confident in their exploration. you felt his fingers swipe along your clothed slit. you froze.

“don’t do that,” you huffed quietly, your head still resting on his shoulder.

“hmm, doll?”

“i said don’t touch me like that. don’t,” you warned.

but did ben listen? no, course not.

instead, he let out a deep rumble of a laugh and swiped along you again, this time with more pressure. you felt the pads of his fingers find your clit with ease, gently rubbing it through your shorts—which you were now regretting choosing to wear for the day.

your hips jerked, trying to free yourself from the unpleasant pleasure ben was forcing upon you.

“mmm, don’t. i said stop, b–”

“stay still,” ben muttered, his free hand holding your hip to keep you stationary. his other hand went back to playing with you.

“no, ben. i don’t– i don’t want you touching me.”

“yeah? you’re not fighting very hard to get off.”

you groaned and pulled back on his lap, now able to look him in the eye. you frowned.

“stop.”

your hand grabbed his wrist between your legs, but any attempt to pull it away was futile; his superstrength out-winning your weak hands any day.

“shh, shh, shh,” ben cooed. he let his finger stroke you harder through the fabric.

a moan escaped you, much to your displeasure, and you shifted your hips, frustrated at him and trying to ignore the drooling of your cunt.

“ben, stop,” you whined, trying to sound firm, though the sound was a pathetic noise, taking you by surprise.

“baby, you don’t want me to stop. just shh and take it. be a good girl for once.”

“ben–”

“shh, let me play with you.”

before you could fight it, ben had slipped his slimy hand under the fabric of your shorts and into your underwear. his fingers met your wet heat, and you whimpered—slightly in discomfort, slightly in anticipation.

“shit, so wet, babydoll. you’re a fuckin’ liar. don’t want this, ben. wah, wah, wah. just a little goddamn liar with a fountain between her legs,” ben mocked.

he let his fingers rub slow teasing circles through your folds, kissing your clit with just the right amount of friction to make your pussy weep more for him.

“don’t want it,” you whined again, “don’t– please.”

a huff exited ben’s mouth. “yeah, sure you don’t. that’s why this pretty pussy is gushing for me right now. s’why you’re getting all huffy and stuttering. just sit back and let me make you feel good. it’ll shut you up for once.”

you frowned and let your eyes fall shut. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a response. you stayed splayed on his lap, your thighs spread over his meaty ones as he played in your underwear. his fingers moved quicker, toying with your swollen bud with expertise.

you felt the clench of your stomach, and your hands shot out, grabbing his biceps for stability.

“oh, there we go. you’re close, huh? yeah, that’s it.”

the noises you made were whiny and loud, stuttering breaths that were half in fight and half in pleasure. your hands gripped at his firm muscles as your core squeezed, fighting off the wave of ecstasy from washing over.

“c’mon, now. just let go f’me, doll. i can feel this pretty pussy holdin’ out on me.”

his fingers rubbed harder against your tender nerves, the friction slickening up your pussy in preparation—what a traitor. you squeezed and whined, your hips jerking around in his lap as his fingers moved through your folds.

“cum, baby. c’mon,” ben murmured, watching your face scrunch and twitch, reacting to what he was doing between your thighs.

one final circle over your clit forced open the floodgates and let your orgasm rip through you. you moaned loudly, collapsing against ben’s front as he rubbed you slowly, drawing out your high. your slick covered his fingers more, and his free hand met your back, rubbing up and down your spine soothingly.

“mmm, there we go, honey. did that feel good? you liked soldier boy doing that to you?” he laughed, letting his fingers wander through your tumescent folds.

you whined into his neck as you felt them tease your entrance—his fat fingertips circling around the sensitive opening, sending electricity flying up your spine, dizzying your brain upon arrival.

“answer me.”

his voice was sharp but hiding a gentleness behind it, like he wanted you present with him.

“mmm, yeah…” you mumbled out against the tanned skin of his neck.

“yeah, baby? was good?”

his middle and ring fingers circled your opening one last time before slipping in. your jaw dropped at the pleasant stretch, and then a moan toppled out as he curled them up into the spongey spot that made your hips buck forward.

“oh, that’s it,” he hummed, rhythmically curling his fingers against your gspot. “such a tight little pussy for me. squeezing my fingers like crazy, sweetheart. s’like a little virgin cunt,” ben laughed.

his amusement continued as he fingerfucked you, drawing out your sweet melodic sounds of pleasure. you melted against him entirely, willingly letting him violate your pussy with his slimy fingers that had a history of violence but now were gentle and calm inside your slick walls.

ben revelled in your moans against his neck, the pretty sounds sending all his blood down south to his slowly engorging hunk of meat. you could feel it pressing into your thigh under his sweatpants—the sheer girth of it making your head spin as you thought about taking him inside you.

you whined into his neck again, feeling the combination of thoughts and his fingers driving you closer to finishing a second time.

“shit, listen to you, babydoll. so fuckin’ mouthy before, but all i needed to do was plug your pussy with my fingers and suddenly you’re a broken little slut,” ben chortled.

“don’t be mean,” you muttered out meekly, your breath ragged as your orgasm impended.

“oh, baby. this ain’t me being mean. i could be a whole lot meaner if you’d like me to.”

you shook your head into his neck, letting out a soft hum. ben chuckled, still forcing his thick digits into your hole, his curling motions almost like he was digging for gold inside your gummy walls.

“gonna cum for me again?”

you nodded. “please.”

“oh, there we go. that’s a good sweet girl. so polite, using your manners like that. that's what i like to see.”

ben’s fingers moved faster, making your core tighten again around them, working you up right to the edge again with his quick dexterity. his free hand held the back of your head into his neck, his thumb softly rubbing up and down your nape. 

“c’mon… let go for me.”

you followed his instructions, which was so unlike you, and he felt your cunt drool and flutter around his fingers as another melody of moans escaped your mouth, travelling right up into his ear.

“oh, good girl… goooood girl,” ben hummed and turned to place a gentle kiss on your temple as he fingered you through your second high.

your core continued to clench around his fingers, coating them in your sweet juices as they dribbled out onto his palm. you couldn’t help yourself from groaning into his ear, the sounds ragged and breathless—like you’d given up, like you weren’t fighting him anymore.

as you simmered down from your peak, and your walls stopped tightly hugging his digits, ben slowly retracted his now-pruned fingers from inside you. you hummed into his neck at the empty feeling, and he chuckled, his clean hand pulling you away from his neck so you could look at him.

ben raised his hand covered in you, his fingers and palms both drenched in the juices he’d managed to pull from you with ease. “you don’t get mouthy with me anymore, got it? cause look what i can do to you… the next time you need an attitude readjustment, i won’t be so nice.”

his eyes stayed on you as he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking off the slick from his skin, tasting you. he groaned loudly, and a smirk grew on his lips. “shit,” he pulled his fingers away, “such a sweet taste for such a nasty piece of work.”

fig yaps: i am so back baby! was too depressed to write but then i thought abt soldier boy fingering me and now here we are LOL i hope u enjoyed !!! i was seriously fighting the urge to include a daddy kink in this but i refrained :( bc some people really don’t like it and i wanna write a mix of content !!!! anyways ily thank u for reading BYE <3

feedback and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated!

⟡ taglist: @chevroletdean @honeyyxxbee @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @jensenacklesballsack @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @daylighted @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @littlesoulshine @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @freeluigihesbae @bejeweledinterludes @blossomingorchids @lanasgirlfr @seven7lee @nymphet-quenn @rafessweetgirl @maeji-may @eternalssunshinee @blossomingorchids @benscumgluzzer @soldiersgirl @arcannaa @inbred-eater @vmiina @h8aaz @iluvdeanwinchester @n-o-p-e-never

↑ comment to be added / removed / or only tagged for certain characters (zero judgement ofc) !

[dreamingitsover]

i’m not even kidding like this is something i need real bad

[wchswift]

── 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

pairing! soldier boy x fem!reader

→ summary! ben decides to reverse the roles a bit and destroy you instead. part 2 of "tied him down to my queen bed." → contents! established relationship, no plot just porn, rough sex, power play, dom!soldier boy, degradation, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, dirty talk, explicit language, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), praise & degradation kink, possessiveness, cocky/bratty dynamics, teasing, fingering, choking (light), masturbation (teasing/control), really filthy lol. mdni 𖤐 18+ !! → word count! 1.8k

The sound of the ropes snapping is barely audible over the pounding in your ears, over the sharp inhale you take when Ben lunges forward. One second, you’re in control—smug, taunting, playing your little game. The next, you’re flipped onto your back so fast the air is knocked from your lungs.

His weight presses you down, thick hands pinning your wrists above your head, the same way you had him. His grip is bruising, ironclad, his forearms flexing as he cages you in.

"Thought you were real fuckin’ cute, huh?" His voice is low, rough, dangerous. "Gettin’ me all wound up, keepin’ me on edge, makin’ me beg?" His lips curl, a smirk full of sharp teeth. "Well, sweetheart, now it's my turn."

You swallow hard, but your cunt clenches at the raw fury in his voice, at the way his body is pressed tight against yours, hot and hard and so fucking big.

"Look at you," he sneers, shifting his hips so the thick length of his cock slides against your slick folds, teasing. "You love it, don’t you? You love bein’ a fuckin’ brat. Love pissin’ me off just to see what I’ll do to you."

You gasp when he rolls his hips again, the head of his cock nudging against your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Your thighs twitch, trying to press together, but he grips your knee and forces you open, spreading you wide beneath him.

"Not so cocky now, huh?" he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, his breath hot and heavy. "Now that you’re the one tied down? Where is that dominant woman?"

You want to snap back, want to play it cool, but when his fingers slide down your stomach, teasing over your swollen clit, all that comes out is a breathy, pathetic whimper.

His smirk widens.

"That’s what I fuckin’ thought."

And then he pulls back.

You blink up at him, dazed, breathing hard. He sits back on his heels, still straddling you, looking down like he’s got all the time in the world.

"Here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart." His voice is slow, deliberate. "You’re gonna touch that pretty little pussy for me."

Your breath catches.

His hands slide down his own torso, abs flexing as he strokes his cock—slow, lazy, teasing himself the same way you did to him.

"Come on, baby," he murmurs. "Wanna see you spread yourself open for me. Wanna watch those pretty fingers play with that sloppy little cunt."

Heat floods through you, your face burning, but fuck, the way he’s looking at you—eyes dark, lips wet, chest rising and falling with every heavy breath—it’s too much.

Your hand trembles as it slides down your stomach, fingers parting your folds, dragging through the slick that’s pooled there.

"Good girl," he praises, his voice like gravel. "Now rub that clit for me. Nice and slow."

You obey, gasping when your fingers make contact, circling that swollen bundle of nerves. Your hips jerk slightly, chasing more, but his voice is sharp.

"Ah-ah. Slow."

You whimper, forcing yourself to keep the pace light, teasing, exactly how he wants.

"Shit," he groans, fisting the base of his cock, stroking once, twice, watching you like a predator watches prey. "Look at you. Drippin’ all over yourself. So fuckin’ needy."

Your fingers work over your clit, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. You squirm beneath him, biting your lip, your free hand gripping the sheets.

"Look at you," he murmurs, eyes locked on your hand between your thighs. "So desperate to cum, huh?"

"Please," you whisper, barely able to form the word.

He laughs—low, dark, cruel.

"Oh, sweetheart," he drawls, still slowly jerking his cock. "You’re not gonna cum."

Your stomach clenches.

"Not until I say so."

You whine, thighs trembling, fingers still working your clit, but the ache, the need, is unbearable. Your body is screaming for more, for relief, but he just watches, smirking, stroking himself like he has all the time in the world.

"You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this," he muses. "All spread out, soaked, beggin’ for it." He tuts, shaking his head. "Should make you do this all night. Make you edge yourself until you’re fuckin’ cryin’ for me."

Your breath stutters, your thighs twitching at the filthy promise in his voice.

"Maybe I’ll just watch," he murmurs, voice thick, gaze hooded. "Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Just make you do all the work while I sit back and enjoy the show."

Your fingers falter, and you make a pathetic little noise, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. Your body is shaking, your pussy clenching around nothing, your entire being screaming for him.

"Please," you gasp, your voice breaking. "I—I can’t— fucking do something already..."

He exhales sharply, jaw clenching, his grip tightening on his cock. You can tell he’s barely holding himself back, barely restraining the urge to rip your hand away and shove his cock inside you.

Finally, finally, he leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

"That’s enough," he growls. "Get your fuckin’ hands off my pussy."

Your fingers still immediately, and he grabs your wrist, pinning it above your head before pressing his weight down on you again, his cock nudging against your entrance.

"You want it, babydoll?" His voice is rough, shaking slightly. "You want this fuckin’ cock?"

"Yes," you sob, body arching against him, desperate beyond words.

"Then beg for it."

“Fuck Ben,” you gasp, voice breaking, wrecked with need. “Please, I need you, I need your cock—”

Soldier Boy laughs, low and rough, like gravel in his throat. He knows how sweet you are playing to get what you want. He knows you. “That’s all you got?” His fingers tighten around your wrists, keeping you pinned beneath him. His cock slides against your drenched folds, teasing, dragging through the slick mess you’ve made of yourself. “Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.”

You writhe beneath him, helpless, thighs twitching every time his cock nudges your clit. The teasing, the denial—it’s too much, it’s too fucking much.

“Please, I—I can’t take it anymore—”

“Oh, you can,” he growls, dragging his teeth down your throat, sucking a bruise against your skin. “I made you like this. So fuckin’ desperate. So fuckin’ soaked.” He grinds against you again, slow and torturous, letting you feel every inch of him. “You love it.”

You whimper, hips jerking up, trying to take him in, but he pulls back, again, leaving you aching, throbbing, empty.

"Beg better," he orders, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. His pupils are blown, his jaw tight, his cock twitching against you. You can tell he’s barely holding himself together, but fuck, he loves this. He lives for this.

"I—fuck—" Your brain is a mess, nothing but white-hot need burning through you. "I'm aching for you, baby, to finally feel you, I need you inside me, I want you to stretch me open, use me, fuck me—please—"

"That’s more like it."

And then, finally, finally, he lines himself up and shoves inside you with one brutal thrust.

You scream.

It’s too much, it’s perfect, the stretch burning so fucking good as he buries himself to the hilt, filling you up, splitting you open. His cock is thick, heavy, pulsing deep inside, and your walls squeeze around him, desperate to keep him there.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, voice wrecked, forehead dropping to yours. "So tight, so fuckin’ tight—"

You whimper, nails digging into his shoulders, and he doesn’t wait, doesn’t give you a second to adjust before he moves.

The rhythm he sets is brutal, merciless, hips slamming into yours, his cock hitting deep, over and over and over. Every thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, drives the air from your body.

"That's what you wanted?" His voice is a growl, lips brushing against your ear. "Wanted me to ruin you?"

You can’t speak, can’t think, can only sob out broken moans as he fucks you like he’s trying to break you. His weight presses you down, keeps you helpless beneath him, makes you take it.

"Fuckin’ brat," he snarls, hand closing around your throat, not squeezing—just holding, making you feel how small you are beneath him. "Think you can tease me, tie me up, make me beg?"

His pace somehow gets rougher, more punishing, skin slapping against skin, sweat dripping from his chest onto yours.

"Ah, you fucking loved it and I know." you managed to speak, your voice hoarse and strangled.

"Still cocky, huh? This fucking mouth" He bites your jaw, licks the sting. "But what happened to the rest of that attitude?"

You try to speak, try to say anything, but all that comes out is a whimper.

"That’s what I thought," he grunts, grinding his hips deep, making you scream. "Nothing but a dumb little fucktoy now, huh?"

The words send a fresh flood of heat straight to your core, and he feels it, groaning when your walls squeeze around him.

"Yeah," he breathes, lips curling into a smug, wicked smirk. "You love it. Love bein’ my fuckin’ toy."

You nod, brainless, lost in him, lost in the way he’s tearing you apart, making you his.

"Say it," he orders, voice sharp, grip tightening on your hips.

"I—fuck—I love it," you gasp. "Love being your—your fucktoy—"

"Good fuckin’ girl," he praises, and your whole body burns.

"But you— you love being my toy too." you finish, still teasing. A proud smirk appeared on your blushed and full of pleasure face.

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. Letting that one slip because, fuck, you're right. Then his hand slides down between you, finds your clit, and rubs harsh, tight circles.

"Come for me," he orders, his voice lethal. "Make a fuckin’ mess on my cock."

It’s not a request.

The pleasure slams into you like a freight train.

You scream, body locking up, pleasure tearing through you like a live wire. Your vision goes white, the world disappearing as your orgasm destroys you, rips you apart at the seams.

Soldier Boy fucks you through it, grunting as your walls spasm around him, milking his cock, pulling him deeper.

"Fuck—fuck, baby, I’m—" His rhythm stutters, turns sloppy, desperate, until he snaps, burying himself to the hilt and growling as he spills inside you.

You feel it, dear God, you feel it, the heat flooding deep, his cock twitching as he pumps you full, branding you from the inside out.

He collapses on top of you, heavy, breath ragged, heartbeat pounding against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, both wrecked, used up, panting in the aftermath.

Then, finally, Ben chuckles, voice still rough.

"I think we should do this more often, doll. But next time you wanna tie me up, oh sweetheart…" He lifts his head, smirking down at you, eyes dark, wicked. "You better make sure I can’t break free."

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

⛥ main masterlist.

lina's notes: helloo!! sooo here's part two... no cliffhanger this time lol. you guys asked me so much and I hope it's as good as part one and doesn't leave anything to be desired yk. also, I just realized I hit 470+ followers AND THANK YOU SO MUCH I APPRECIATE IT SO SO MUCH AND LOVE YOU ALL, so I decided to post this as a 400 followers thank you 💜👯

tags: @blossomingorchids @rositaslabyrinth @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @bluemerakis @h8aaz @bruisedfig @sapphic-destiel @deansfavorite @mostlymarvelgirl @jbsgirl4ever11 @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @strawbeepop @amazingphil @tinas111 @jasvtscrecs @maddie0101 @bejeweledinterludes @starzify @inbred-eater @losers-clvb @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @mostlymarvelgirl @jbsgirl4ever11 @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @strawbeepop @amaris444 @tinas111 @fuckedupfate (let me know if you want to be added or removed <3)

[dreamingitsover]

“get your fuckin’ hands off my pussy” HELLOOOO??? call the ambulance i just died i fear

[xoxomilesteller]

just between us

playboy bunny!reader x soldier boy | MDNI

cw: payback era, unprotected p in v (no balloon no goon), cursing, soldier boy, smoking, slight sexual harassment (it’s soldier boy), sir kink, guys im still bad at this

not proofread and def has grammar mistakes!

wc: 2.3k

soldier boy is best friends with the one and only hugh hefner. it’s not uncommon for his self absorbed ass to come into the clubs, demanding for drinks. all the bunnies would be on him, posing and taking pictures with him.

you didn’t mind soldier boy. you just wanted to get your job done. but truth be told, soldier boy is hot. anyone with eyes can see that. and for some reason, you love cocky men. he has every right to be cocky, look at him. he’s one of the world’s first superheroes and is insanely rich.

you were just starting at this brand new job in new york, you were a bit shy. especially around soldier boy. you didn’t want to disrespect or offend him, since he is very generous with his tips— how you get by.

he particularly likes you though. you’re shy, well mannered, and he loves the way you look in that corset and bunny tail.

after being checked by the bunny mother, you went to work. contrary to popular belief, the playboy club is insanely classy. your uniform had to be perfect, you had to look perfect, you have to be perfect. you’re not allowed to date any customers either, if you do, you’re fired. and honestly, it is a very fun job. the club was six stories, tons of famous men come by, soldier boy is here. maybe you developed a tiny little crush on him, but you know the rules, so does he.

soldier boy was obviously in the vip room, where you were staffed to wait. whenever you walk into the room, his eyes traveled hungrily up and down your body, taking his time to savor your body like he hasn’t seen you in this uniform at least 10 times now. hugh gave him special treatment. any other gentleman, after it gets to a certain point of flirting, they get kicked out. soldier boy however, kept on making comments whenever you did the signature lean.

his eyes would carelessly drop down to your tits and he’d lick his lips, imagining what it would be like to titty fuck you and coat them in his cum.

he’d whistle at you, lowly, only the people at his table could hear and of course, you.

he says things like: “lets see you shake that tail doll face”, “the ears will stay on when i fuck you”, “i bet you’re tighter than that bodysuit you have on, aren’t you?”

you didn’t mind. you knew better than to entertain him because of your job. the tips are so good, especially when he comes by. besides, you know you look good. sure soldier boy is a bit too forward, but every single woman in this club looks phenomenal in their uniform, you’re not that special.

soldier boy was joined by black noir, mindstorm, one of those twins you don’t know the name of and the wasp guy, waspo or something like that.

you don’t really care enough for the rest of their names.

when you finish your shift, you place your black fuzzy trench coat over your uniform. you spent way too much money on it, but most of the money came from soldier boy, so you have him to thank for that. you walk out of the club, the cold air nipping at the small areas of exposed skin. you walk over to a spot you recently discovered, it’s just a rooftop but it has one of the most beautiful views of the city.

when you make it all the way up, you see the supe in his green suit. he heard you coming. he heard your heartbeat, your footsteps, but he knew it was you because he had been watching you after work for some days now.

he was just curious is what he told himself when he found himself wanting to know what you did after work, who you did.

”oh sorry-“ you softly say, “thought i had this place to myself,” you turn around to descend the steps.

”come on doll face,” he smirks to himself when he hears your heartbeat quicken at the pet name, “it’s public property, don’t belong to anyone”

you hesitate, but you find your legs walking towards him before you can even think. he untucks the joint he had behind his ear and searches for a lighter, “nice coat you got on there, shame it covers you up,” he looks at you up and down, sizing you up for the millionth time and inhales his joint, “you get off around this time, doll face?”

you nod, “yeah but it depends on the day, thankfully today wasn’t as packed as it usually it”

he nods, “any plans for the night?”

”not that i know of,” you bite the inside of your cheek

”i’m gonna fuck you”

you laugh, not taking him seriously, “what?”

his face remains serious, “you got anywhere you have to be?”

you look around, as if this is a joke, “no not really..“

”then you’re coming back to the vought tower with me”

you scoff, “that’s against the rules, i’m a bunny, you’re a gentleman-”

he laughs in your face, ”i’m everything but a gentleman. i don’t give a fuck ‘bout the damn rules, not when your tits look that good in that tiny uniform. take that coat off, let me get a better look doll face”

”i was talking about you being a gentleman at the club like gentleman’s club..”

”do as you’re told,” his voice is commanding and impatient.

you did as you were told, since he’s so hot. you slipped off your trench coat, goosebumps rising on your arms as the warmth left them. he takes a few steps closer, the smell of weed and leather filling your nostrils. he places the joint in between your lips and drags his big hands over the cups of the corset, keeping them there, “don’t waste my joint”

you inhale and remove it from your lips to let the weed hit your lungs better. right as you exhale, he starts shaking your upper half side to side, shamelessly watching your tits jiggle with a giant half smirk plastered on his face.

as insane as it sounds, that act alone, was the hottest thing that has ever happened to you. the way he doesn’t care. he’s eye-fucking you like you’re an object, the things he’s said about you are borderline sexual harassment, but he looked damn good while doing it.

”like water,” he mutters, “yeah you’re coming home with me doll face,” he wets his lips with his tongue, “these all yours?”

”yes,” you whisper

he slides his hands down to your ass and gives both cheeks a smack, making you wince, “even fuckin’ better, y’know what?” he looks around, “this a hotel right?”

”yeah,” you nod

he nods, “then let’s fucking go,” he gives your ass a squeeze and your tits one final look for now.

soldier boy practically fights with the poor receptionist to get their best room available and had her kick out a couple that were in the room. the second you two are alone in the room, he pushes you against the wall, the kiss being all teeth and built up desire. he needs to fuck you so bad. his cock strains against his suit at the feeling of you being pressed up against him, of your tits.

God he loves your tits.

he unsnaps the corset and you sigh in relief, his hands immediately massage your breasts, “fuck,” he shakes his head, chuckling, “now these are what i’m talking about”

”sold-“

”sir”

you gulp, “sir,” you step out of the teddy, “how may i help you?”

”lay down on that bed, flat on your back doll face, keep your legs spread”

each step you take closer to the bed, your heart rate quickens and your legs glide easily, with no friction at all.

his cock twitches at the way you delicately lay on the bed, completely the opposite of what he’s about to do to you. he starts imagining what other positions he can have you in but right now, he needs his fix. and right now, he is staring at the wet patch that is growing on your tights. he hovers over you, placing wet kisses on your neck.

you lift up your arms but he quickly pins them down, “don’t touch me doll face”

”yes sir”

”keep those hands to yourself and keep all of this..” he tugs on the waistband of your tights, pulling them up and hitting your clit as you mewl, “on. Cuffs, ears, everything”

you whimper, “yes sir”

”good fuckin’ girl. knew you’d be a sweet thing,” he winks.

his hands slide down to your core and he rips the all fabric apart, making you gasp. hugh does not mess around, he needs his bunnies looking sharp at all times and now you have to pay for new pairs, since as bunnies, you were required to wear two sets of tights.

“sir i have to-“ you cut yourself off when he inserts two of his thick fingers into you.

”fuck me,” he cockily smiles, “so fuckin’ wet and tight, yeah move those hips doll face” he pats the side of your hip, encouraging you to keep fucking yourself on his fingers, “desperate bitch,” he shakes his head, finding you so pathetic but amusing at the same time.

your jaw falls open and his fingers curl up, hitting that sensitive spot that makes your vision go white, “sir-“

he withdraws his fingers, shoving them into your mouth before you can react, “suck them, don’t wanna hear you bitching that i didn’t let you cum”

he places pressure on your tongue until you start actually sucking on his fingers, tasting yourself on his fingers. he wraps his lips around a nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue while you arch your back into his mouth, moaning around his fingers. he grinds his bulge onto your thigh, “next time i’m fucking you in that uniform, don’t know how yet, but you’re gonna look like a banged up bunny doll face,” he deeply mutters against your warm skin and switches nipples.

he groans when you swirl your tongue on his fingers, imagining what it would feel like to have his throbbing cock in your warm, obedient mouth. he can’t take it anymore, he needs to be inside of you.

he removes his fingers from your mouth, wiping them dry on your face and unbuckles his leather belt hastily. when his cock springs out, you look down and see soldier boy in all his glory. his cock is huge and has pre-cum beading at the tip. with his thumb he smears it all over the bright pink head, dropping his jaw slightly at the sensation.

”sir,” you say softly, “please”

his eyes pan down, to your dripping wet cunt, watching it desperately clench around nothing.

in one, painful thrust, he sheaths himself fully inside of you. your head rolls back at his tip hitting your cervix.

”sir,” you pant

”take it,” he grits out.

he places his hands under your tits, his grip so hard it will leave bruises. each thrust of his hips, he pulls your body down with ease, making you take him deeper. your hands grip onto the sheets, tugging at them as he pounds into you mercilessly.

your mind can only think of him and his cock. he feels so good deep inside of you. you feel full, stretched. tears prickle your eyes and your throat is so sore from moaning, that you’re just babbling.

he huskily laughs, “not even trying and i got you cock drunk, i feel that good doll face? hm?” he taunts you

he will never admit when a woman makes him feel good unless she’s on her knees. praising is not his thing, he doesn’t even moan, it’s fucking embarrassing. he can’t even make eye contact with you, so he’s been watching your tits jiggle with every forceful thrust he feeds you. he has never had trouble biting back a moan, but inside of you?

if he weren’t a supe, his lip would be torn open. his brows are scrunched up, twitching at every thrust. his fingernails are digging into your flesh.

you’re so damn tight he feel likes he just might explode. so fucking wet that every time he retracts his hips, he might slip out.

he’d lose his shit if he slipped out mid fuck with you.

he brings a hand down, rubbing your clit vigorously.

”s-sir”

”take it,” he repeats, “fuckin take it”

”please”

the pleasure is too much. the coil in your lower belly is about to snap. you’re sweating, you can’t stay still, you can hardly even moan. each thrust knocks the air out of you. your walls are sealed tight around his cock, causing friction.

”cum doll face,” he nods

at his command, you come undone. you scream and tears come rolling down your face, giving you the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had. he rides out your orgasm and he pulls out.

he yanks you up by tugging at the hair on the crown of your head and he strokes himself with the same force he was fucking you with. your mouth is open, not to catch his cum, but at the scene in front of you.

the soldier boy is sweating in front of you, jacking off his massive, Godsend cock, with his head tilted back. you watch his cock twitch and shoot out his thick, creamy cum all over your tits. his load is also massive. it came out nonstop.

when he finishes, he is staring up at the ceiling, trying to control his breath.

but you?

you dart your tongue out to clean up the small amount of cum on his tip.

and he— for the first time— moans.

AN: ANOTHER SOLDIER BOY SMUTTTT i hope you enjoyed!

banner by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

tags: @shadowhunterdownworlderhybrid

[dreamingitsover]

i’m barking for this one WHEW

[jasvtsc]

godolkin professor!ben and his good little student…

going back to the modern world didn’t go exactly as planned for ben. once the great hero, the whole states, hell, the whole world knew, now long forgotten, serving as the relic of the good ol’ times.

he tried getting back to action, he really did. but after the fiasco with butcher and his team, it was a miracle that the government didn’t lock him up immediately. however, he wasn’t particularly excited about the deal they made — he was no teacher material after all.

he was supposed to fight the bad guys, protect the country and get laid after. but this? teaching some college kids physical education?

gun. mouth. now. — that was the thought that often clouded his mind.

although he wouldn’t say that it was so bad, watching the girls run around the field did leave him with some good views to enjoy. he would slightly tilt his head back, brow raised appreciatively, and a perverted smirk would grace his face as he watched their asses and tits bounce with every step. too bad he couldn’t touch or comment, or otherwise he’d end up in federal jail. god, the way feminism got popular… he wasn’t built for that. 

a man is always gonna be a man.

however, there was that one duckling who didn’t mind that as much as the others. fuck, when he thought about it, it was almost as if you wanted him to look on purpose. always wearing those short and tight shorts that shaped your ass perfectly, not leaving much to the imagination. or the fact that your sports bras always had such a low cut that it was a miracle your tits hadn’t fallen out yet. god, after each class with your group, he always had to get back to his office and have some time for himself, since the ache in his sweatpants was getting insufferable. the fact that he hadn’t felt the woman’s touch in over 30 years was showing.

he’d sit behind his desk, door locked as he laid back in his chair, pants pulled down enough to free his cock. he’d unceremoniously spit on his hand and then stroke himself aggressively, imagining that it was your tight little cunt instead. god, how he just wanted to ruin you. to have you bounce on him, or bend you over that goddamn desk and show you how the real man does it. or have your pretty lips wrap around him, cheeks hollowing, and tears spilling down your cheeks.

and so, he came up with a plan.

after practice, he called you to his office. at first, you looked surprised, but he quickly picked up on the way your eyes widened and your chest heaved up with quick breaths. almost as if you were waiting for that moment.

a discreet smirk was plastered to his face as he sensed you following him. he let you in first and then closed the door, turning the key. there was no way in hell that anyone would interrupt him, not when he was finally about to get his hands on his favourite student.

“i gotta say, sweetheart, you’re doin’ a real good job. might make the team if you keep it goin’,” he hummed, walking around and sitting behind his desk, slightly leaning back and spreading his legs almost invitingly. “i’m real proud of you.”

and there it was, the blush on your cheeks and the way you smiled shyly. you were done. just a little praise, and you were already folding. lord, you were such a sweetheart.

“thank you,” your voice barely came out, sounding almost like a squeak. but he liked it. to be fair, he liked everything about you. you were just… adorable.

and, well, it didn’t take him as long as he first expected to have you give yourself to him. honestly, it went faster than he imagined.

cause sooner than later, you were pressed against the wall, your lips being brutally attacked by his in a heated kiss as he pounded into you like a wild animal. he swallowed every little whine and whimper that begged to came out your throat as his thick cock deliciously rubbed your velvety walls.

ben pulled back and covered your mouth with his huge palm, raising his brows in a warning.

“not so loud, baby. we don’t want others to hear us now, do we?” his voice was low, vibrating from his chest, alongside heavy pants. you just nodded your head, quick puffs of air hitting his calloused palm. he smirked and picked up the pace, thrusting into your tight heat. “good girl. s’tight and wet. god, you wanted me to fuck you, right? dirty, dirty girl. i knew, the first time i saw you. you were begging to be taken,” he snarled, his dick kissing your cervix as he dove deeper and deeper with every move of his hips.

[dreamingitsover]

yeah so i would die for this AGHHHH

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

don't lie to me

part I

Pairing: Boyfriend's!Dad!Ben x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend's been treating you like shit for too long, and tonight? Is the straw that broke the camels back. Lucky for you, his dad is around to comfort you.

Warnings: 18+!, Ben being his own warning, forbidden relationship, power imbalance, dubious morality, age gap, language, toxic relationship, heartbreak, smut (dirty talk, dry humping, fingering, clitoral stimulation, mutual masturbation, squirting, cunnilingus/oral, p in v, spanking, marking, spitting, degradation, gentle humiliation), guilt, I think that's it.

Word Count: 7,131

You didn't know when things started to go bad. Not really. But you remembered when they started to go good, and that felt important.

You and Jamie had been together for a long time. Too long, probably. Long enough to make leaving feel like failure. Long enough to confuse nostalgia with love.

It was good in the beginning. Golden, even. The kind of romance that made your friends roll their eyes but smile when they said you were lucky. Jamie had a casual kind of charm, easy in his skin, confident in the way most college boys were—like he knew the world would bend for him eventually. He brought you gas station flowers and kissed you like he meant it. He called you his girl and made you feel like that title actually meant something.

The first year was everything.

After that, the cracks came quick. The texts got shorter. The kisses got rarer. He stopped asking if you got home safe and started forgetting you were even coming over. You'd sit in your car outside his house while he "finished up at work," only to wait two hours and see him post a photo from someone else's party.

He always had an excuse. You always believed him.

Because that's what you did when you loved someone. You gave them the benefit of the doubt. You softened your edges to fit theirs, even when it left you bleeding.

Lately, it had gotten worse. The kind of worse that was hard to ignore. He stopped coming home when you were over. He'd call you, say he was just running errands, and then not show up until midnight. If at all.

So you started spending your time with someone else. Not by choice. Not at first. It just happened that way.

Because Ben was always the one who answered the door.

You'd knock, expecting Jamie, and there he'd be—broad-shouldered, barefoot, always a little scruffy like he hadn't decided whether to shave or not. He'd take one look at your apologetic smile and sigh like he was already annoyed with his son, then step aside and tell you to come in.

You'd sit on the couch with him, sometimes in silence, sometimes not. Watch football with a mug of tea he made without asking how you liked it. The commentary on the screen would hum in the background, but your attention would drift, eyes trailing the way he sat—casual, like nothing in the world could touch him. Like the room shaped itself around his gravity.

He was different from Jamie. Steady. Solid in a way that didn't demand anything from you. People used to say he was wild, back in the day. That he was the reason everyone wanted to party at their house in high school. Jamie used to brag about it, say his dad could drink anyone under the table and still wake up at dawn to run five miles. There was something about Ben that made people lean in when he spoke. Something sharp in his smile, wicked in his humor, but dulled by the years like a knife worn smooth by use.

He still cursed like a sailor, still called politicians jackasses and made crude jokes that made you choke on your drink, but there was a gentleness there too. One you weren't sure anyone else saw.

He always hugged you when you left. Tight. Firm. His hand splayed across your back like he meant it, like it mattered that you'd come.

Sometimes he said things that made your stomach twist.

"You could do better than him. That boy don't deserve someone like you."

You always brushed it off. Told yourself it was just a dad thing, a gruff attempt at keeping his son humble. You never thought there was truth behind it.

And even if there was, you'd spent so long pretending Jamie was still the boy you fell in love with... it felt dangerous to let yourself want someone who actually saw you. Someone who never made you feel like too much or not enough.

Ben never made you feel like a placeholder. But Jamie did. More and more.

And now, you were twenty-three, sitting on the same couch you always had, wrapped in the blanket Ben threw onto your lap without a word. Jamie wasn't home. Again. You didn't even ask where he was this time. You just waited. Like always.

Ben didn't ask either. He just turned up the volume on the game and passed you the popcorn.

It wasn't weird. But maybe it had been building for longer than you realised. You'd forgotten how easy it was to be around him.

The couch sagged a little beneath his weight as he shifted to grab the remote, muttering something about "goddamn commercials" under his breath before flipping to something less noisy—reruns of some old action flick, grainy and overacted. He always said he liked the classics. Said actors nowadays didn't know how to throw a punch without a green screen.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he settled back, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, the other cradling a sweating bottle of beer. His legs were spread comfortably, boots still on. He hadn't changed out of the work shirt he wore to fix the gutter earlier that afternoon—collar open, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, grease still dark beneath his nails.

You hadn't meant to fall asleep. You'd just meant to sit down for a minute. Rest your legs. Let your spine uncurl into the couch that still smelled faintly like woodsmoke and cheap detergent.

Ben was still next to you. One leg stretched out, the other bent just enough for his knee to brush yours. You weren't sure if it had always been that close. His beer sat half-finished on the table, and he was flipping through channels with the kind of concentration that made you think he'd been doing it for fifteen minutes and still hadn't found anything worth watching.

"Jesus," he muttered, "is it all just reboots and dick-measurin' contests now? Whole industry's got its head up its ass."

You blinked blearily and smiled into the throw blanket he'd tossed at you earlier. Not handed. Tossed. Like it was nothing. Like he hadn't noticed you shivering and grumbled something about "central heating bein' for soft little pricks."

He noticed everything. Just never talked like he did.

"You okay?" He asked without looking. "You were out cold for, like... four whole minutes."

"I wasn't asleep."

"Right." He snorted. "You were just aggressively meditatin' with your mouth open."

You laughed before you could stop it. A sharp little sound in the quiet. His mouth twitched, just barely.

That was the thing with Ben. Everything was just barely. Just under the surface. Just on the edge of being something else.

He leaned back, arm slung across the back of the couch, fingers drumming against the cushion behind your head like he wasn't thinking about how close they were. Like it didn't matter.

"You know," he drawled, "I always figured my kid was dumb, but this shit? Tellin' you to come over and then pulling a Houdini? That's a whole new level of dumbass. Like, Olympic-tier."

You grinned, cheeks warm. "You're not supposed to say that."

"Yeah, well." He shrugged. "What's he gonna do? Cry about it into his fuckin' vape?"

You shook your head, biting your lip to hold in another laugh. "He says he's just busy. Work's been—"

Ben made a sharp noise in his throat. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Make excuses for him." He finally looked at you. Direct. That sharp green stare like he was lining up a target. "He's not that busy. Nobody's that busy. You don't leave someone like you sittin' on a couch with a guy like me unless you're either a fuckin' idiot or just don't give a shit."

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Your heart thumped a little harder.

Ben ran a hand over his jaw, rough and tired. "Christ. I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I... I know."

He shifted, tension bleeding into his shoulders like he was trying to shake it off. "You're tired. Go crash upstairs if you want. Guest room's clean. Or Jamie's, if you feel like baskin' in the smell of Axe body spray and underachievement."

You smiled, soft. "I like sitting with you."

Ben paused. Brief, but enough to notice.

"Yeah," he said, quiet. "I like it too."

And that was it. He didn't touch you. Didn't move closer. Just let it sit there between you, real and unspoken.

The TV flickered on, casting blue light across his face. The room was quiet. Safe.

Then your phone buzzed. You looked down. Jamie. Ben caught the name on the screen and went still, like a hunting dog catching scent. He didn't say anything—just leaned back a little, eyes still on the screen.

You answered.

"Hey," you said, already curling into yourself, trying not to sound too hopeful.

A laugh. Not Jamie's. A girl.

Then Jamie's voice, distant and smug: "Yeah, hey. So, I've been thinking. We should break up."

It hit like a car crash. Sudden. No brakes. You blinked at the wall, your mouth parting in disbelief.

Ben's head turned, slow and sharp. "He what?" He said, voice low.

You didn't answer. Couldn't. You were still listening to Jamie—still trying to make sense of what he was saying while someone giggled beside him, soft and syrupy.

He told you to grab your stuff and head out. That was it. No apology. No hesitation. Just a quick, "Later," and the line went dead.

Your phone dropped to your lap. You didn't cry, but Ben stood slowly, the couch groaning as his weight shifted. He didn't speak at first—just watched you, jaw working like he was biting down on something bitter.

You forced yourself to move. To smile like nothing had happened. Like you hadn't just been gutted from the inside out by a boy who couldn't even break up with you alone.

"I should grab my stuff," you said lightly, pushing the blanket aside. "Jamie's not gonna be back anytime soon, so..."

You moved to stand, but Ben stepped into your path before you could take a full breath. His hand caught your wrist—not hard, just enough to stop you.

"Hey."

You looked up at him. His eyes searched yours, green and dark and unrelenting.

"Tell me what just happened."

You shook your head, tried to pull your arm back gently, but he didn't let go.

"It's nothing."

"Bullshit," he snapped.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't cruel. But it cut through the air like a blade. Your stomach twisted.

"I'm serious," you insisted, keeping your voice light. "It's not a big deal. We just... talked. That's all."

His grip tightened—not painful, but firm. His other hand hovered for a second, like he didn't know where to put it. Then he let it fall.

"Don't lie to me," he said, quieter now. Rough around the edges. "You think I don't know what that voice means? I've known you too long for that."

You looked down at where his fingers wrapped around your wrist, your skin warmer than it should've been. That was when you noticed it—his hands were clean now. The dark streaks of grease that had been etched into the creases of his knuckles earlier were gone. No smudges under his nails. He'd washed up when you weren't looking.

When you were "sleeping." He'd done it quietly. Without saying anything. Like he didn't want to wake you.

Your throat tightened.

"It's fine," you said again, barely above a whisper. "Really. I just... I should go."

Ben exhaled hard through his nose. Then he stepped in, close enough that the scent of clean soap and warm cotton hit you like a memory. His hand was still on your wrist. He dropped his voice.

"You're not goin' anywhere until you tell me what the hell just happened."

You hesitated. Swallowed. It wasn't even that you wanted to protect Jamie anymore—you just didn't want to see it. Didn't want to put the words into the air and make them real. But Ben's stare didn't budge. And you'd never been good at lying to him.

"He..." You took a shaky breath. "He called. From someone's car. A girl. She was laughing in the background."

Ben's jaw clenched, sharp enough that the muscle jumped.

"He broke up with me," you finished, soft and stunned, like you were still catching up to it.

He didn't speak. Not at first. His thumb brushed against the inside of your wrist—once, slow. It felt like a pulse.

"Fuckin' coward," he muttered.

You didn't argue. You didn't say anything at all. Because the silence that followed felt like the beginning of something neither of you could name.

Ben didn't let go of your wrist until you blinked again. He watched you like he was waiting for you to crumble, to fall apart right in front of him. And maybe you would've, if he hadn't caught you first.

"You're not drivin' like this."

"I'm fine," you tried again, but your voice didn't hold. It cracked at the edge.

"No, you're not," he snapped, already steering you back toward the couch like the conversation was over. "You're shakin' like a goddamn leaf and your face is doin' that thing—don't gimme that look."

"I'm not—"

"Sit."

You sat.

Ben stood over you for a second, running a hand through his hair like he wanted to rip it out. Then he turned, muttering under his breath as he stomped toward the stairs.

"Little shitbag can't even grow a pair to break up with a girl like a goddamn man," he grumbled. "Calls you from someone else's fuckin' car? While she's gigglin'? Jesus Christ, what a pathetic excuse for a—"

He kept going as he climbed the stairs, the sound of his boots thudding heavier with each step. You stared at the muted television, every nerve in your body ringing. Your hands were curled into the hem of your shirt. Your chest ached.

You hadn't realised how heavy the silence in this house had gotten until Ben's voice had filled it.

A few minutes later, he came back down with your overnight bag slung over one shoulder, his jaw set, expression thunderous.

"That my stuff?" You asked, sitting up straighter.

He dropped the bag near the hallway, closer to the guest room than the front door.

"Movin' it."

You blinked. "What?"

"The guest room." He shrugged like it was nothing. "Jamie's room smells like old socks and broken promises. You're better off."

"I can't stay here."

"Sure you can."

"Ben—"

"I already called him." His voice was low, clipped. "Told him not to come home tonight. Told him if he did, I'd knock his teeth so far down his throat he'd be spittin' molars 'til Christmas."

Your mouth fell open.

"You... you didn't."

He raised a brow. "Sure did. And he agreed. Pussy little prick probably didn't want to face you anyway."

You shook your head, heart starting to beat faster. "I can't do that. It's not fair."

Ben looked at you for a long second. Then he let out a breath through his nose—tight, bitter.

"No," he said finally. "It's not. But it's the first goddamn time anyone's treated you even half as good as you deserve in this house. And I'm not lettin' you crawl out the front door like you're just some fuckin' afterthought." 

Your breath caught.

He didn't seem to notice what he'd said—he was too busy crouching to unzip your bag, mumbling something about pyjamas and Advil, like this was any other night. Like he hadn't just dropped a live wire between you.

You sat frozen, replaying the words.

The first goddamn time anyone's treated you even half as good as you deserve in this house.

You weren't sure exactly what he'd meant. But something about the way he said it, the heat under the gravel of his voice, the way he hadn't looked at you after—it felt like a confession. Small. Raw. Dangerous.

You looked away, cheeks burning.

He didn't mean it like that. He couldn't have. You were just upset. You were reading into things. Making it worse than it was.

Ben was just being... kind. That was all.

Ben moved through your bag with that familiar, rough focus he had when something pissed him off. He didn't bother asking about what to grab—he just reached into it and fished out your pyjamas, a ratty old pair of flannel shorts and a loose t-shirt. He tossed them at you with a grunt, the fabric landing in your lap.

"Change. Now. I'm not lettin' you leave this house tonight. You need sleep. And if I gotta make you comfortable to get it, then I will."

You took a deep breath and nodded. Maybe you'd actually get a good night's sleep here for once—something you hadn't been able to do in weeks. Maybe it was the comfort of Ben's familiar grumbling, or maybe it was the fact that the world felt just a little bit safer when he was here.

"Thanks," you murmured, standing up and heading toward the guest room to change.

When you came back out a few minutes later, the house was still. The television had been muted, and there were two cold beers sweating on the table. Ben tipped his head toward the beers with a casual nod.

"Take one if you want," he muttered, still clearly worked up about his son. "Or if you're picky, you know where I keep the good shit."

You hesitated for a second, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Good shit. Ben's idea of "good shit" usually meant top-shelf whiskey or one of those small-batch bourbons you could only find if you knew the right people. You weren't picky tonight.

"I'll take the beer, thanks."

Ben grunted in acknowledgment, but his eyes were already back on the TV, his jaw tight with whatever thoughts were spiralling in his head.

"You know," he started, his voice low, almost like he was speaking to himself, "you're always so goddamn polite when you're here. Always so considerate. Thoughtful. Mindful. You don't act like the rest of 'em."

He didn't look at you. Instead, he grabbed his own beer and took a long sip, eyes still fixed on the TV.

"You're too good for him," Ben added, his voice barely above a murmur. "That kid... James, he's been a goddamn disappointment for a while now, and I've been too patient with him."

You couldn't help it—you let out a small giggle at the way Ben spoke about his son. It wasn't just the words, but the way his voice broke with frustration and the rawness of it all.

"You know," you said softly, taking a sip from your beer to hide your smile, "I didn't think you'd be so pissed."

Ben's lips twisted into something that could've been a smile if he wasn't so damn angry. "You didn't think I'd be so pissed? You must not've been listenin', sweetheart."

You shook your head. "I didn't realise how much that pissed you off."

"Don't get me started." He leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face. "He's been draggin' his ass through life like a fuckin' kid playing pretend. And you? You deserve so much more than that. Always takin' care of everyone but yourself. Jamie don't appreciate you." His voice softened for a second. Then it hardened again, muttering, "Useless waste of space."

You chuckled under your breath, the sound foreign in the quiet room. Even in a moment like this, Ben could still pull that laugh out of you. It wasn't even a joke, really. But the way he spoke about his son was so Ben—raw, unapologetically real, and somehow endearing even when it was brutal.

You looked at him, confused by the sharp pang of emotion in your chest. You should've been angry. You should've been crying. But instead, you found yourself giggling, something warm in your belly, even though the weight of Jamie's call was still hanging over you.

"Why do I feel like I'm laughing at the worst possible time?" You murmured, shaking your head. "Like, I know you're furious, but..."

Ben didn't look at you right away. He just took another long pull from his beer and muttered, "Yeah, well. Better to laugh than cry, right?"

You weren't sure if he was talking to you or himself.

Then he glanced over—brief, like he couldn't help it—and added, a little quieter, "Kid pulls that shit on you, and you're still sittin' here being polite... no wonder I'm the one losin' it."

Ben hadn't stopped ranting since you sat back down.

Your beer was cold in your hand, sweating like your palms. He was muttering, swearing under his breath, one hand raking through his hair while the other gestured to ghosts in the air around him.

"Fuckin' unbelievable. Kid's got a girl like you sittin' in his house and decides to toss you aside like a fast-food wrapper." He scoffed. "Jesus Christ."

You didn't say anything. You weren't sure you could. There was a weight in your throat that hadn't moved since the call ended. But Ben kept going, voice low and sharp like a knife sliding over a whetstone.

"I mean, really—what the fuck does he think he's gonna do better than you?" He turned, finally facing you, heat still simmering behind his eyes. "You're here, lookin' like that, sittin' on my couch in your little pyjamas, and he's out there dick-first in somebody else's backseat?"

You looked up, startled. "Ben..."

But he wasn't done.

"God, if you were mine..." His voice dropped, rough and quiet, the words dragging out of him before he could stop them. "I wouldn't let you leave the fuckin' bed."

The silence snapped taut.

You sucked in a breath. Tiny. Audible. And his eyes flicked straight to you. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks instantly, your fingers tightening around the bottle in your lap, heart hammering like it wanted to break your ribs. You didn't look at him. Couldn't.

But it was too late. He'd seen it. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. Not softer—never softer—but lower. Controlled. Deliberate.

"Yeah. You like that, huh?"

Your head turned toward him before you could stop it, eyes wide.

Ben didn't smile. His expression barely changed. But he shifted on the couch, leaned in just a little, forearm braced against his knee, beer bottle hanging forgotten between his fingers.

"'Course you do. He doesn't have a clue what he had." His voice rasped, barely above a whisper now. "Didn't know how to look at you. Not really. Not like I do."

You were trembling. Not from fear. Not from heartbreak. From something darker. Thicker. Want. You couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. His leg brushed yours when he leaned in further.

"Sittin' there in those little shorts," he murmured, eyes dropping—slow, deliberate, dragging over your thighs and back up. "All sweet and soft, tryin' to play it cool. Like I haven't been noticin' every fuckin' inch of you for months."

Your breath caught.

Ben let the silence stretch. Then he leaned just a little closer, his voice so low it felt like it was inside you.

"Tell me the truth," he said. "The little fuck ever even make you moan?"

You gasped. You didn't mean to. It slipped out of you like a secret, sharp and quiet and real. Your eyes snapped to his—wide, shocked, pleading for him to pretend he hadn't said it.

He didn't. His gaze didn't waver. If anything, it darkened.

"Or was he too busy admirin' his own reflection to figure out how to touch you?"

You stared at him, frozen.

"Bet I'd only need one hand," he muttered, more to himself than you. "Maybe two, if I wanted to be generous."

Your thighs pressed together.

Ben's eyes dropped. Noticed. His jaw ticked. He leaned in—closer now, the heat of him thick in the space between you. Close enough to count every fleck in his eyes, every scar on his knuckles, every breath that ghosted between your mouths.

"You're thinkin' about it now, huh?"

You couldn't answer. You didn't need to. Because your body already had. And Ben? Ben looked like he was about to sin for the first time in his life—and fucking thank God for it.

Ben hadn't touched you. Not once. And still, your whole body was trembling.

Your knees were pressed together, your thighs aching with tension. You could feel the way your breath stuttered in your throat, the way your grip had gone white-knuckled around your beer. He was still so close. Still watching you like he could see straight through every layer you'd ever used to protect yourself.

"You're thinkin' about it now, ain't you?" He asked again, quieter this time. Like a secret.

You didn't respond. You couldn't. But something in your silence made his eyes darken. Made the air in the room twist into something dangerous.

Ben sat back slightly, but only to set his beer down on the table. The bottle clinked. His eyes never left yours.

Then, voice low and deliberate, he said the thing that broke you.

"If I had you," he murmured, rough and slow like gravel in molasses, "you wouldn't be sittin' here wonderin' what it feels like to be wanted. You'd be fuckin' glowing."

Your stomach dropped. A sound slipped out of you—unbidden, humiliatingly soft.

A whine.

Ben's jaw ticked. And then—he smiled. Not sweetly. Not kindly. He smiled like a man who'd just won something.

"Yeah," he muttered, almost to himself. "There she is."

You looked at him, startled, every nerve in your body tight and humming. But he didn't move toward you. He didn't lunge or grab. He just spread his legs a little wider and patted his thigh, lazy and confident.

"C'mere."

You blinked.

"What—"

His brows lifted. "You want me to make you feel better, don't you?"

Your breath caught again.

He cocked his head, smirk widening like he could see every thought unraveling behind your eyes.

"Or you gonna sit there playin' good girl until it hurts?" His voice was velvet-wrapped sin, laced with dry amusement. "Your call."

You stared at him, frozen. He didn't push. Just let his hand rest on his thigh, palm open, warm and steady.

"Not gonna beg," he said, tone lighter now, teasing. "You want it, sweetheart, you come take it."

That did something to you. The challenge. The smugness. The fact that he was still so patient with it. Like he knew he didn't need to do anything but wait you out.

And god help you, it was working.

You swallowed hard. Shifted slightly on the couch. Heart hammering.

Ben's gaze flicked down—watched the movement. Still didn't touch you. But his voice dropped one last octave. Soft now. Almost sincere.

"You want comfort?" He said. "You want someone to show you what it's supposed to feel like?"

His hand flexed against his thigh. The invitation was silent. Waiting.

"C'mere, baby girl."

You didn't move at first.

Just stared at his lap like it might catch fire if you touched it. Your fingers tightened around the neck of your beer bottle, your pulse thudding against the inside of your throat like it was trying to climb out.

Ben just watched you. Silent. Still.

You set the bottle down. Carefully. Deliberately. It hit the table with a quiet clink. Then you stood. Moved in front of him. Stood between his knees.

He tilted his head back to look up at you, brows raised, like he was amused that you'd made it this far. Like he was proud.

His legs were spread, but not wide enough—not yet. You looked down at the space between them, at the lazy way he was leaning back into the couch, relaxed in that heavy, masculine way like his body knew you were coming before you did.

"You look like you're tryin' to solve a fuckin' puzzle," he said, voice low, teasing. "Ain't that complicated, sweetheart. You want it, you take it."

You flushed. Still, you didn't move.

Ben's voice softened, but somehow it only made everything worse.

"You nervous?" He asked, head cocked slightly. "Or just takin' your time with me?"

You glanced at him, breath shaky, and he smiled—soft. Not mocking. Not smug. Just warm.

Then he leaned back further into the couch and spread his legs wider, thighs shifting beneath the thin cotton of his sweats, settling in like a man getting comfortable.

Waiting. Watching.

"I've got all night," he murmured. "But you don't need to wait, baby girl. You want to feel better?" His eyes flicked to your mouth. "Come take it."

Your knees nearly buckled.

You climbed into his lap before you could stop yourself. Slow. Careful. Like if you moved too fast, you might spook yourself and bolt back to the other side of the room. Your legs slid over his thighs and you lowered yourself, your hands braced on his shoulders, every part of you tense with something that felt like fear and desire tied together with string.

And only then—only when you were fully in his lap, straddling him—did he touch you. His hands lifted. Large, steady palms settling on your waist like he'd been waiting years for permission.

"Shit," he muttered, almost to himself. "Look at you."

You swallowed, your breath catching.

Ben's hands flexed against your sides. Just a little. Just enough.

"You're shakin'," he said softly.

You nodded, too breathless to speak.

"Not scared of me, are you?"

You shook your head.

"Good," he murmured. "'Cause I'd never hurt you, baby. Never."

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. His voice dropped further—more gravel, more hunger.

"I'll ruin you. But I'll never hurt you."

You whimpered. Couldn't help it.

And Ben smirked, like that was exactly what he was hoping for. Then he leaned in. His mouth hovered just beside your ear, breath warm against your skin.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered, voice thick and deliberate. "Use your words."

Your breath stuttered. Your nails dug into his shoulders.

"I... I want you," you managed, quiet and trembling.

Ben's hand stilled on your waist. Then he let out the softest, filthiest little sound—something between a hum and a chuckle.

"Yeah?" He rasped, tipping his head to look at you fully. "Want me to what, sweetheart?"

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

He grinned, slow and dark, eyes dragging over your mouth.

"C'mon," he said, voice a touch rougher now. "You're already in my lap like a good little thing. Say it like you mean it."

You were shaking. Not with fear. Not anymore. With the pressure of it all—of him, of you, of everything he'd said. The weight of being seen. The heat coiled so deep inside you it ached. You wanted. God, you wanted. You wanted him like you'd never wanted anything in your life.

Ben's hand slid from your waist to your hip, slow and possessive, his thumb dragging across your skin through the thin fabric of your pyjama shorts.

"Still waitin', baby," he murmured. "Thought you had something to say."

You broke.

"I want you to touch me," you whispered, breathless. "I want you to make me feel good. I want—" you swallowed, cheeks burning, "—I want you to fuckin' ruin me."

Ben's groan hit you like a thunderclap.

"Fuck," he hissed, head falling back slightly. His hips jerked once, grinding up into you so hard and slow your whole body jolted in his lap. "Christ on a cross."

You gasped, eyes fluttering shut, the thick press of him beneath you lighting a fire between your legs.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, fingers flexing hard enough to bruise.

"You want it that bad, huh?" He rasped, voice wrecked. "Want my hands on you? Want me to make that pretty little body beg for it?"

You whimpered. Nodded. Couldn't breathe.

Ben's mouth curved, dangerous and pleased.

"Then come give me a fuckin' kiss, baby girl."

You didn't lunge. You leaned in slow. Tentative. Your breath caught in your throat as you moved forward inch by inch, like some part of you still didn't believe this was happening. Like getting too close might wake you up from whatever this was.

Ben didn't move. Didn't blink. He just watched you.

His eyes were half-lidded, heavy, and he was breathing slow—calm on the outside, but you could see it, the storm under his skin. His hands stayed where they were, resting on your waist, fingers flexing every so often like it was taking everything in him not to pull you down the rest of the way.

"Yeah," he murmured, voice so low it vibrated through you. "That's it. C'mon. You're right there."

You inched closer. Your knees squeezed tighter around his hips. Your hands found his chest, broad and hot beneath your palms, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat through the thin cotton of his shirt—deep and steady like a drum.

"Take your time," Ben said softly. "Ain't goin' anywhere."

That wrecked you.

Your mouth hovered just above his now, your nose brushing his, your breath mingling with his in the warm, electric space between.

"Good girl," he rasped. "Now kiss me."

And you did. You pressed your mouth to his—slow, open, reverent.

He met you there. And it was everything. His lips moved with yours like he'd mapped this moment out in his head a hundred times. Deep. Unhurried. Filthy in the way it devoured your breath but never pushed. His tongue dragged against yours with a groan that left your thighs trembling, his hands tightening on your hips as your body melted down into his.

He kissed like he was teaching you something. Like he wanted you to remember this when you were alone later, wrecked and ruined and aching for him again.

You moaned against his mouth and he pulled you in tighter, his fingers bruising into your hips as he rolled up into you, slow and hard.

The kiss deepened. Wet. Heavy. Hot enough to burn. He sucked your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging just enough to make you whimper before he soothed the sting with his tongue.

"Fuck," he groaned into your mouth. "Listen to you."

You ground down harder, chasing friction, and he met you, hips grinding up into yours like he couldn't help himself anymore.

One of his hands flew to the back of your neck, dragging you deeper into the kiss as his hips thrust up again, slow and deliberate. The other guided your movements, helping you rock in his lap, the thick ridge of him grinding perfectly through the layers between you.

"Atta girl," he growled against your mouth. "That's it. Just like that. Ride it out."

You writhed, panting, your fingers tangled in the front of his shirt, grounding yourself as he took you apart without even needing to move.

His kisses were wet, filthy, all tongue and heat and groaning breath. He kissed like he meant it. Like he owned your mouth. Like it had been his since the first time you said hi to him at the front door and he let his eyes linger a little too long.

You cried out as he guided your hips harder, the friction dizzying, filthy sounds echoing through the room.

"You're so fuckin' pretty," he murmured against your lips. "So good for me. He ever get you makin' these sounds?"

You shook your head, dazed, lips slick and parted.

"Didn't fuckin' think so."

He kissed you again—harder this time, stealing your breath, your thoughts, your name. His grip tightened as he ground up into you again, slow and punishing, like he wanted to drag every sound out of you and make you remember it later, alone in your bed, still aching for him.

"You feel that?" He rasped, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your throat. "That's how bad I wanted you. Every fuckin' time you walked in here, smilin', bein' sweet, sittin' at my table like you belonged there—this is what I had to fight."

You whined again, rolling your hips down into him, chasing more.

Ben groaned, hands grabbing tight at your ass now, dragging you down against him in rhythm.

"No more fightin', baby," he growled. "Not now."

And you believed him. Because whatever this was—it had already taken you both.

You couldn't stop moving. Every time your hips rocked into his, every time his hands dragged you closer, it just got worse—better—hotter. You were soaked through your pyjamas, breath coming in shallow little pants between kisses that only got filthier the longer they lasted.

Ben was panting now too, forehead pressed to yours, lips slick and pink and kiss-bruised. His hands were still on your ass, guiding every motion like he was conducting a symphony made just for him.

"You're drivin' me fuckin' insane," he groaned. "You feel what you're doin' to me?"

You nodded, breathless.

He growled. Actually growled. Then his mouth was on your throat again, teeth dragging slow over your skin before he pulled back just enough to look at you—his pupils blown wide, jaw tight.

"Off," he said, nodding toward your shirt.

You froze. Heat rushed to your cheeks.

But Ben didn't push. Just let his hands slide back to your waist, eyes dragging over your face, patient even while he looked like he was seconds from snapping.

"You don't gotta be shy," he murmured, voice lower now, rougher. "Not with me."

You swallowed, then reached down with shaking fingers and pulled your shirt over your head.

Ben's mouth parted.

His gaze dropped like a stone, dragging down your neck, your chest, every inch of newly bare skin until it landed on the swell of your breasts and stayed there. You weren't wearing a bra—hadn't expected to need one—and the second he saw that, his hands twitched.

"Jesus fuck," he muttered. "Look at you."

You shifted in his lap, suddenly aware of everything. Your breath, your thighs, the way your nipples peaked under his stare.

Ben leaned forward.

Not kissing. Not touching. Just bringing his mouth close enough that you felt his breath against your chest. His hands slid up—slow, warm, calloused—and cupped you gently, like he was still making sure you were real.

"You been hidin' this from me all this time?" He rasped.

You whimpered.

And then he kissed your breast. Open-mouthed. Hot. A filthy, reverent drag of his tongue over your nipple before he pulled it into his mouth and sucked.

Your whole body jolted.

"Ben—!"

"That's it," he muttered against your skin. "Let me hear you."

You moaned, rolling your hips down into him again, needy and shaking.

He pulled back with a wet sound, licking his lips as his hand slid down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Gonna show you what it feels like," he said. "You remember what I said?"

You nodded, dazed. "One hand."

Ben smirked.

"Damn right."

He leaned in, kissed you again—slower this time, deep and thick and hot—while his hand slid inside your waistband, knuckles dragging down over soft, soaked cotton.

"Fuck me," he breathed. "You're already drippin'."

You whimpered, hands gripping his shoulders, rocking into his touch without shame now.

Ben's fingers dipped lower, sliding between your folds over your panties, just enough to make you cry out.

"That's right," he growled, "ride my fuckin' fingers. Show me how bad you needed this."

You did. You couldn't stop. You were shaking in his lap, panting into his mouth, his hand wedged between your bodies while he stroked slow and deep over the thin barrier of your panties, never rushing, never giving you quite enough.

"Ben—please—"

His mouth was back on yours, swallowing the desperate sound as his fingers finally slipped under the fabric and found your clit—bare, wet, aching.

You sobbed into his mouth.

"Shh," he whispered, kissing you softer now. "I got you, baby. Gonna make you come just like this, sittin' pretty in my lap. Nice and slow."

He circled your clit with maddening precision, dragging two thick fingers through your slick heat while his other hand stayed firm on your waist, anchoring you there, his.

"You're already so close," he muttered, voice wrecked. "I can feel it."

You gasped, grinding into his palm, head falling to his shoulder. He kissed your neck, your jaw, your temple.

"You gonna come for me, baby girl?"

"Y-Yeah—Ben—"

"Then come. C'mon. Wanna feel you fall apart."

You shattered.

It hit fast and hard, ripping through your core like a lightning strike. You cried out, clutching his shirt, grinding into his hand while your thighs trembled around him. Ben held you through all of it—murmuring filth into your hair, groaning into your ear, his fingers still slow and gentle even as you gasped and bucked against his lap.

"That's my girl," he whispered, dragging his fingers back up to circle your clit one more time just to watch you twitch. "Fuckin' perfect."

You were still gasping when he kissed you again—deep, slow, savouring you.

"Look at that," Ben rasped against your mouth, fingers sliding lazy circles over your oversensitive clit. "Just made a fuckin' mess in my lap."

You whimpered, thighs twitching as your hips bucked into his hand again, helpless and overstimulated. "I-I can't—"

"Yeah, you can." He nipped at your jaw, then kissed the sting away. "Gonna give me another one while you take care of me. That too much for you, baby girl?"

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You shook your head, breathless. "No. I—I want to."

Ben growled. Low and hungry.

"Yeah?" He leaned back slightly, eyes locking on yours, smug and reverent all at once. "Then show me."

You slid your hand between your bodies with shaking fingers, reaching down to where he was thick and hard under his sweats—obscene with how long he'd been like that. Your fingertips brushed over him through the cotton, and he shuddered.

"Fuck," he gritted, head falling back for just a second. "There you go. C'mon, sweetheart. Take it out."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Your hand slipped beneath the waistband, fingers curling around him—hot, hard, heavy in your palm—and Ben groaned, loud and wrecked.

"That's it. Fuck, your hand's so small," he growled. "You gonna stroke it nice for me, baby? You gonna be good?"

You nodded quickly, already moving your hand, pumping him slow, your grip slick with the way your own arousal coated your skin. You couldn't believe how wet you still were—how much you needed more, even after what he'd just done to you.

Ben's breath caught as your fist curled tighter around him.

"Jesus," he hissed. "That's it. Don't stop. Just like that."

His fingers moved faster now, dragging tight circles over your clit, dipping down to tease through your folds before sliding up again, matching the rhythm of your strokes. You gasped, thighs trembling, your hips rocking into his palm at the same time as you jerked him in your fist.

The motion was filthy. Perfect.

Wet sounds filled the room—your slick, his cock, the breathless moans you couldn't hold back. He was panting now, fingers digging into your thigh to steady you.

"Such a fuckin' good girl," he growled. "Sittin' there all pretty in my lap, makin' me feel so fuckin' good—Jesus, keep goin', baby, don't stop—"

You moaned, your forehead pressed to his shoulder, breath hot against his neck as you stroked him harder. He was throbbing in your hand now, his hips jerking up into your fist as his fingers circled your clit ruthlessly, forcing another orgasm up your spine like he needed to feel you fall apart again before he let go.

You cried out, hand faltering, and Ben caught your jaw in his palm, kissed you hard and open-mouthed, tongue filthy against yours.

"That's it. Come with me," he whispered against your lips. "Wanna feel you squeeze my fuckin' fingers while I come all over your hand. You want that?"

"Yes—Ben—yes—"

"Then fuckin' take it."

You shattered again—your whole body tensing, legs trembling, hips grinding into his hand as the orgasm crashed through you harder than the first, and at the same time, Ben snarled your name, hips jerking up into your fist as he spilled hot and thick over your hand and into his sweats, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with a desperate groan.

You were both panting, wrecked, clinging to each other in the thick, sticky heat.

Ben's hand slid from between your legs, dragging up your thigh, slow and reverent. He pressed his lips to your temple, still catching his breath.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You were worth waitin' for."

a/n: AHH! So, obviously an AU. I hope y'all liked. I liked. Just let me know what you thought... I'm kinda obsessed with this one. The dynamic feels so baddirtywrong and it's my favourite. Ew. Also, you know the craic, if the warnings listed above aren't evident yet? They will be in the next part. Hehehehe. I just needed a lil break from "eyes too close to let me" and also... I was high and this became sentient all by itself. In the words of William Butcher: you're all fucking welcome. Until the next one? Smin signing off. All the love.

Ben/Soldier Boy taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah. @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @bittersweetfig @lyarr24 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @ohgodimgoungtodie @cevansbaby-dove @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids @sacr1ficialang3l @kaz-2y5-spn <3

[dreamingitsover]

this is actually- i can't do this anymore this is so fucking good and i love their dynamic and i actually NEED THIS??? TODAY. i wanna fuck an old mannnn and this doesn't help

100/10 work as always

[dreamingitsover]

soldier boy fic recs

hi party people, i'll start with saying that this is actually a sideblog where i send all my fic recs to! i just got around to reblogging all this stuff, i'm so abd at doing it the second after i read lol. thanks to every single one of y'all for writing smut bc i am so bad at it

@plasticflowersinahistorycemetery . and i mean like every fucking fic. BUT if i have to pick a favorite...

@godmadeaterribleerror another one where there isn't a single miss! but i have a soft spot for this one

and @zepskies, the one that who got me into soldier boy before i even sat down to watch the show! love everything this author has ever written, but this is a classic

diddle that skittle - @littlesoulshine

buy me presents - @little-wicked10

this drabble - @sleepywdean

beg for it- @vampiredaisiesss

memory foam - @bluemerakis

ultraviolence and daddy's home and professor!ben @jasvtsc

supa! - @msmiseryxoxo

peanut- @lila-lou

she's out to please, she pouts her best -@venus-haze

soldier boy has a glasses kink - @pearlzier

taming the supe and the fun kind of sparring- @so-much-for-the-seashells

like an animal - @impala-dreamer

hush hush behind the shield and bad mouth - @syrma-sensei

just between us- @xoxomilesteller

spice up your life- @wchswift

this one shot , fauxcest with ben - @bruisedfig

soft dom!ben , oral fixation!reader cockwarming drabble , stroke count (actually jensen but who give a damn- @honeyyxxbee

just take it - @prettyinpeaches

bad girl tax - @radioactivatedspider