The bunker garage is thick with the smell of motor oil and hot metal, the low hum of classic rock drifting from an old speaker Dean rigged up years ago.
He’s bent over the same motorcycle he’s been tinkering with for weeks—some beat-up vintage Harley he salvaged from a hunt a few months ago gone sideways. His broad back is glistening with sweat under the harsh overhead lights. No shirt. Just worn jeans slung low on his hips and a streak of grease across one sharp cheekbone.
You pause in the doorway, throat dry. He’s absolutely massive like this.
Shoulders carved from years of dragging monsters into graves, back muscles flexing every time he handles a wrench. The dim light catches on the ridges of his abs when he straightens, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. That v-line disappearing into his jeans makes your pulse stutter.
“Eyes up here, sweetheart,” he drawls without even turning around, voice rough like gravel under tires. But there’s that smirk in it. He knows exactly what he does to you.
You step closer anyway, boots quiet on the concrete. “Thought you said you’d be done by now.” Dean sets the wrench down with a metallic clink and finally faces you.
God, he’s big.
Six-foot-one of pure hunter, chest rising slow, those green eyes dark with something that has nothing to do with the bike. His hand—fuck, that hand, flexes at his side, palm wide enough to span half your ribcage if he wanted.
“Got distracted.” His gaze drags down your body like a physical touch. “C’mere.”
You don’t make it two steps before he’s on you. One big arm hooks around your waist and hauls you up against him, your feet barely brushing the floor. He’s already half-hard in his jeans, you can feel the thick line of him pressing into your stomach, heavy and insistent.
"Dean—” you breathe, but he cuts you off with a filthy kiss, tongue sliding deep, claiming. His free hand cradles the back of your head, fingers spread so wide his pinky brushes the top of your spine.
Your skull fits in his palm like it was made for it.
“Been thinkin’ about this tight little pussy all damn day,” he growls against your mouth, nipping your bottom lip. “While I’m out here sweatin’, gettin’ my hands dirty… all I can picture is you stretched around my cock, cryin’ for more even when you’re already full.”
He walks you backward until your ass hits the edge of the workbench. Tools rattling, and then suddenly, he’s lifting you like you weigh nothing, setting you on the scarred wood and stepping between your thighs.
His abs contract as he leans in— completely cut like fresh hawaiian rolls, glistening, the kind of muscle that makes your mouth water. You run your hands over them, nails scraping, and he hisses.
“Yeah? Like what you see, baby?” He grabs your wrist and presses your palm flat against his stomach, letting you feel every ridge.
“All this for you. But you know what you really want.”He grinds forward, letting you feel the massive bulge straining against denim. Even through layers, it’s intimidating. Thick and long. The kind of dick that ruins you for anyone else.
Dean doesn’t waste time. He yanks your shorts down your legs in one rough tug, panties gone with them. Two thick fingers drag through your folds and he groans low. “Already soaked. Such a needy little thing. Can’t even wait for me to finish work before you’re drippin’ for this cock.”
He sinks one finger in, then two, stretching you open with practiced ease. His knuckles are thick, veins standing out on the back of his hand as he pumps slow. You whimper, thighs trying to close around his wrist, but he just chuckles darkly and forces them wider with his hip.
“Look at that. Barely two fingers and you’re already shaking. Gonna look so pretty split open on the real thing.”
He pulls his fingers free, brings them to his mouth and licks them clean while holding your gaze. Then he’s shoving his jeans down just enough. His cock springs out—heavy, flushed dark, thicker than your wrist. The head is leaking, veins wrapping around the shaft like they’re daring you to take every inch. It twitches under your stare, curving up toward his abs.
Dean wraps one hand around the base and strokes once, slow. “See this, sweetheart? This is what’s gonna wreck you tonight.”
WIthout any hesitation, he lines up and pushes in, both slow and delectably relentless.
Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as the you feel his cock stretching you wide. He’s so big it burns in the best way, every inch forcing your walls to part around him. Halfway in and you’re already gasping, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Fuck, baby,” he coos, voice wrecked. “So goddamn tight. Look down. Watch how you take me.”
You do. The sight is obscene, your pussy stretched so needily around his thick cock, lips gripping him like they never want to let go. He’s only halfway inside of you and you already feel full, pressed right against the limit.
Dean’s hand returns to the back of your head, cradling you, anchoring. His other grips your hip hard enough to bruise.
“Breathe, sweet girl. You can take it. You always take it so fucking good for me.”
He bottoms out with a deep roll of his hips and you sob at the pressure. The head of his cock kisses your cervix, grinding against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes. His abs flex against your stomach with every shallow thrust, like he’s fucking you with his whole body.
“Atta girl. Takin’ every inch of this big dick for me—jus' like that baby. I knew you were made for it.”
He starts moving—deep, devastating strokes that punch the air from your lungs. The workbench creaks beneath you, your thighs trembling around his waist. Every thrust makes your tits bounce under your shirt until he yanks it up and latches onto a nipple, sucking hard.
“Dean—oh god—”
“Yeah, baby? Say my name again while I ruin this pretty pussy, tremble f'me, call out to me, tell me i'm yours.”
He pulls out suddenly, spinning you around and bending you over the bike’s seat. The leather is cool against your overheated skin. Dean kicks your legs wider, lines up, and slams back in with one brutal thrust.
“Fuck yes,” he growls, hand fisting in your hair. “Ass up, just like that. Let me see how deep I get inside this sweet cunt.”
The new angle is even worse—or better. He’s hitting spots that make your knees buckle. You can feel him in your stomach, the bulge of his cock pressing against your lower belly with every thrust.
Without warning his arm hooks around your throat. He pulls you up into a headlock, your back flush to his sweaty chest. His bicep bulges against the side of your neck, forearm locked under your chin, holding you right where he wants you. You’re completely at his mercy, feet barely touching the ground, impaled on his massive cock.
“Mine,” he snarls right in your ear, voice low and filthy. “This tight little cunt is mine. Gonna fuck you so deep you feel me for weeks.”
He starts pounding up into you—hard, fast, relentless. The headlock keeps you arched, helpless, every thrust driving straight into that perfect spot. His free hand slides down to press against your lower stomach, feeling the way his cock moves inside you.
“Feel that? Feel how deep I am, baby? No one else gets this far. No one else fills you up like this big fucking cock.. hmm?? tell me.”
You’re shaking, gasping, tears pricking your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure-pain. His abs are slick against your back, muscles working as he fucks you stupid. The wet slap of skin on skin echoes through the garage along with his filthy praise.
“Such a good little slut for me. Takin’ it so deep on my bike f'me. That’s it—milk my dick, sweetheart.”
Your orgasm hits suddenly, causing you to cry out, body seizing, pussy clamping down hard around his thickness. Dean groans, hips stuttering, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he fucks you right through it, headlock tightening just enough to make your head spin in the best way
.“Fuck, that’s my girl. Come all over me. Soak this cock.”
He pulls out only long enough to flip you again, this time facing him. Your legs wrap around his waist as he lifts you, impaling you once more in one smooth glide. Back against the workbench, Dean’s hand returns to cradle your head like you’re something precious even while he ruins you.
His thrusts turn slower, deeper, grinding. Every roll of his hips makes his abs drag against your clit. His cock is still impossibly hard, throbbing inside you, stretching you to your limit.
“Gonna fill you up,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours. “Gonna pump this pretty pussy full of my come. You want that, baby? You want me to breed you so full that I make you a pretty little mama—hmm?"
You nod frantically, nails raking down his back.
Dean laughs—low, smug, breathless. “Yeah you do. Greedy girl. Made for me. Such a perfect fuckin' fit.”
He kisses your temple, almost tender, even as his hips snap harder.“Mine. All fucking mine.”
When he comes, it’s with a deep groan, cock pulsing as he floods you.
You feel every thick spurt, warm and endless, until it’s leaking out around him. He stays buried deep, grinding lazy circles as he whimpers out, keeping his come right where it belongs.
His hand stays at the back of your head, thumb stroking your jaw. Voice soft now, just for you.
“You’re made for me, baby. It's always you n' me— huh?" He chuckles, rubbing circles against your back.
The garage is quiet except for your ragged breathing and the distant crackle of the radio; 'Surrender' by Suicide solemnly playing in the background as he cradles around you.
His forehead rests against yours, breath warm and steady. Those big hands—so rough from years of hunting and wrenching on engines—are impossibly gentle now.
One stays cradling the back of your head, thumb brushing slow circles over your temple. The other slides up your back under your shirt, palm splayed wide between your shoulder blades like he’s trying to press you even closer.
“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-rough, lips brushing yours in the softest kiss. Then another. And another. Little presses that turn sweet and lingering, like he’s tasting the quiet between heartbeats. “I’ve got you. Always got you.”
You melt into him, thighs still trembling around his waist, pussy fluttering lazily around his thick length. He’s still so big, still so full inside you, but the sting has melted into a warm, heavy ache that feels like home.
Dean smiles against your mouth. A small, crooked, boyish in a way he rarely lets anyone see.
“Look at you,” he whispers, nudging your nose with his. “All flushed and pretty, takin’ every inch of me like it’s nothing. My sweet girl, you make me so proud.”
He kisses the corner of your eye, then your cheek, then that spot just under your ear that makes you shiver. “You did so good for me. Always do.”
The song swells softly. Dean sways with you just a little, barely a rock of his hips, more comfort than thrust. His cock gives another lazy twitch and he hums, low and pleased, like the feel of you around him is the best thing he’s ever known.“Stay right here,” he says, pressing another kiss to your temple. “Don’t wanna move yet. Feels too damn perfect.”
His hand drifts down to rub slow, soothing circles over your lower belly, right where he’s still buried so deep. “Love feelin’ you like this. All warm and full of me.”
You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in motor oil, sweat, and that familiar scent that’s just Dean.
He keeps you there for long minutes, trading lazy kisses. His hand never stops its gentle petting—your back, your thigh, the curve of your waist,like he can’t bear to stop touching you.
“Gonna keep you full a little longer, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes. Then I’ll carry you inside, clean you up real nice, maybe run you a hot shower…” Another kiss, slower this time.
“Or maybe I won’t pull out at all. Keep you on my cock all night. Would you like that, baby?”
You nod, both dazed and happy, and he grins, that bright, heartstopping grin that makes him look like a goddamn angel.
“Atta girl.” He nuzzles into your hair, holding you tighter. “My sweet, gorgeous girl. All mine.”
And you know—he’ll be ready to go again soon. He always is. But right now he’s content to just hold you, cock warm and deep, heart beating steady against yours while the radio plays on and on.
᭝⁀⠀᭝⠀@obsessivekniss
if you would like to be tagged in future works pls comment!! i am redoing my taglist :,)
cw: daddy kink (daddy, dad), mentions of a toxic dad, unprotected p in v (no balloon no goon), praising, pet names (doll, sweet girl), dacryphilia (i think?), legal age gap (on a role w these ones lmao), finger sucking, fingering, kinda rushed
def has grammar mistakes!
inspired by @honeyroots and this!
wc: 1.8k
growing up, you always had troubles with your dad. you used to be such a daddy’s girl when you were younger but when you became a tween, your relationship started to change. fights became a common thing and he’d always yell at your for everything you did.
you just missed the man he was when you were younger.
you missed being in his arms, feeling like he can and will protect you from anything.
so when you met beau, you knew you were in deep trouble.
and it only got worse since you guys started dating.
beau didn’t mean for it to happen, you were drastically younger than him and had so much energy, but he loves it. he loves the adrenaline rush you give him because he never knows what’s going to happen around you, and he’ll just go with it.
beau is the embodiment of a perfect dad. he’s protective, sweet, mannered, has grey hairs growing on his chin. you tend to piss him off a lot because he gets irritated, but he doesn’t yell at you. he sits you down, talks about it in his dad voice, and that’s it.
but the dad voice just does something to you.
and beau does know about the issues your father has given you. however, you try to steer clear of even talking about him because you’ll end up in tears and beau would want to console you, only making everything worse for you.
you haven’t introduced them yet, you didn’t want to hear your dad shame you or try to insult beau. but beau being the family man he is, he’s been begging and begging you to meet him.
so you gave in.
you’ve stressed clean the entire house, even scrubbed the gout from the bathroom tiles, you cooked enough food for the entire neighborhood, you paced around in the kitchen, chewing nervously on your lip until he came.
the dinner was going good.
then your dad raised his voice at you, which sent you back to your younger years. beau didn’t yell at your dad, but simply and politely asked him to leave since you got up and walked away from the table to cry.
you don’t like crying in front of beau because again, he’d try to console you, making things much worse because your boyfriend is a much better authority figure than your own father ever was.
when beau sees your dad out, he walks to the room, his face instantly softening at the scene in front of him. you’re laying down, face buried into the pillow to silence your sobs, your body shaking with each one.
“doll?” he rubs your back
you flinch, not expecting him, but you just shake your head.
beau frowns, “let me be there for you doll,” he whispers softly
and it just does something to you.
you nod.
he wastes no time in settling down next to you, back against the headboard and picking you up, settling you down on his lap and wrapping his big arms around you. you bury your wet face in the crook of beau’s neck, clinging onto him.
“don’t listen to what he had to say doll,” he whispers and pulls your head back to look at you.
he knows it’s bad timing, but you look so beautiful. your lips are swollen and pouted, eyes are glassy and wide, lashes look extra long. he is flexing his thigh to the point it will start cramping because he dick cannot stop twitching.
“let dad take care of you, yeah?”
you sniffle and nod.
he smiles and leans over to the nightstand, grabbing a tissue to wipe your tears clean, “prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he mutters, using his left hand to hold your face steady.
“thank you for not yelling back at him,” your voice cracks and your gaze lands on his eyes
“i know doll, i know,” he coos, “not gonna stoop down to his level”
you bury your face again onto his skin, feeling more tears come out at his words. you didn’t realize how healing this is, freely sobbing in his arms without the fear of getting yelled at for it, which only makes you cry more. beau holds you, flush against him, feeling your body shake.
he ignores his hard on, which cannot be avoided now that you’re shaking on top of him. you feel it growing too, but you also ignore it. you know beau gets hard easy, you tease him a lot about it, but right now, you just want to stay in his arms.
beau loves his skin to skin, so he slips off the straps of your dress and bra, which you allow and you sit back, to let him remove his shirt. then he pulls you in, which automatically makes your heart beat quicker. the warmth of his skin against yours, the smell of him, the way he just heals you.
“it’s okay doll,” his hands massage your skin, “jus’ let it all out,” he drawls, “daddy’s gotcha”
you nod, coating his chest in your tears. you tilt your head up to look at him and he softly smiles, bringing his hand to wipe incoming tears out of the corner of your eyes, “whatever y’need, i’ll give, ‘kay?”
beau cannot stand the fact that you’re anything but happy, but it’s impossible to not think about how pretty you are. with every sob, he wants to fuck you, but in the most gentle way possible. he wants to take care of you, make you feel loved and protected, make you happy.
“i just need you,” you sniffle
he nods and pulls you in tighter.
God. he fucking loves you.
all you can think about is how your dad yelled at you, and all the other times he’s yelled at you. the worst times were when you were crying, like this. you don’t want to think about it anymore.
you don’t want to think. period.
“i want you to make me feel better daddy,” you mumble into his chest
“that’s what my doll wants?”
you nod and he sits you up right, to get a better look at your tear stained face, “such a daddy’s girl aren’t you?”
“yes,” you whisper, his thumb trailing over your pouted lips.
you kiss the pad of his thumb and take it into your mouth, tasting the saltiness of his skin and your tears.
“my sweet girl,” he coos, rubbing the back of your head with his other hand, “that’s it doll,” he praises when he feels your tongue swirl over the tip of his finger, “that’s it,” he trails his hand down to where your dress is all bunched up. you lift your hips, providing easier access for him to slip it off. his hand cups your heat, feeling how wet you are through your panties, “my poor doll,” he kisses the side of your face, “must be so uncomfortable, yeah?”
you remove his thumb from your mouth, pouting at him, “it is,” your voice is still wavering
“lay on your side, facin’ me, i’ll take care of you”
while you do that, beau removes his pants and lays on his side too, turning to you. beau has to see your face, he feels so messed up for thinking it, but he needs to see you come apart while you cry, he feels like it just might be the most beautiful thing to witness.
he scoots closer to you, taking one of your legs and placing it on his waist to open you up. he slips a hand under your panties, “this what you need doll?” his middle and ring finger tease your swollen and wet lips
you gasp when he finally slides them in, your nails clawing his chest. each thrust of his fingers makes tears fall out of your eyes.
“let’s keep those pretty eyes open and on me, okay?”
beau can cum right now, with the sounds of your tight cunt taking his fingers, your soft moans, the way you look. your eyes. and he just watches your face, watches the tears roll out of your eyes, your mouth drop open, the way you struggle to keep your eyes open.
it’s embarrassing how easily with just his fingers he can fuck the sense out of you. with every curl of them and hits your gummy spot, you forget more and more on what happened earlier with your dad.
“gonna cum f’me doll?”
you nod frantically, “please”
he groans when he feels your walls tighten around his fingers, along with your leg around his waist, his cock throbbing at the sight of you.
he desperately needs to be inside of you, so his thrusts his fingers harder, “let go doll”
at his command, you instinctively close your eyes and let your hips roll on his fingers, riding your orgasm out. while you’re still recovering, he slides off your panties and with no warning, pulls you in closer and shoves his cock inside of you, causing you to scream his name.
“sorry doll, couldn’t help myself,” he kisses your forehead, “jus’ had to have you ‘round me again,” he places a hand on your hip, squeezing the flesh, his hot breath fanning over your face
he slowly rolls his hips, leaving just the tip, then sliding back in with more force that leaves your eyes rolling back.
“daddy,” you sob
“If it’s too much y’can tell me doll,” he pants
you shake your head, “d-don’t stop”
each roll of his hips, remind you of how thick he is, just when your walls get used to his size, he just slides back in, hitting that spot. you thought he was going to fuck you, hard and fast, but this is way better. you can really feel him, feel every vein, every ridge. and his hand just travels around your body, like he owns it, because he does. no one can make you feel this good, this full, not even yourself.
only beau.
he watches you, feels you. feels you clench around him, how your nails dig into his skin, continues watching the tears roll out of your eyes and kisses them away.
“dad’s gotchu doll, i gotchu,” he pulls you in for a bear hug, flush against his body
it only heightens the intensity more, being so close to him, but your brain is mush. the only thing in your head is beau’s cock and you don’t ever want it to leave.
beau starts moving your hips on him, guiding them gently on his cock, the base of it rubbing your clit. the pace of his own hips start to falter, so he’s close.
“i’m gonna-“
“yeah?” he grunts, “go ‘head doll”
your walls seal him in, tight, and you cum around his cock, moaning his name as loud as you can, tears spilling. he follows right after, feeling him shoot inside of you.
“you want me to stay in ‘ere doll?” he pants, chest heaving and brushes hair out of your face
you nod “please”
he kisses you, “forgot why you were cryin’ didn’t you?” he chuckles
daddy kink/fauxcest with older!dean in response to this ask
cw: 2.1k word count, reader calls dean [dad]dy, actually kind of cute that might be it
a/n - I am so sorry this developed a mind of it's own quicker than I could stop it and it not as perverted as I wanted!! I'm sorry I've let my little freaklings down with some soft daddy dean
“C’mon, baby. You gotta get some sleep. Love island does not count as rest.”
You pouted, keeping your eyes fixed on the tv. “But I’m so comfy,” you said in a voice that came out way whinier than you meant. “And there’s only 30 minutes left.”
“30 minutes that will still be there in the morning.”
You opened your mouth to protest that you could see spoilers, but he was already onto you.
“And I don’t want to hear that sorry excuse that it could get spoiled. Don’t wanna see you on your phone ‘till morning either.”
Leaving no room for argument, he clicked off the tv and confiscated your phone.
“Bed. Now.”
“You’re not my dad,” you grumbled, rolling off the couch knowing you’d been beat.
“Is that just what you call me when my cock’s in you then, sweetheart? The second I try to take care of you, do some good, I’m demoted to the creepy older boyfriend?”
You leaned into his body and let him lead you to the bedroom, deciding that you were suddenly much too tired for this conversation.
“Could have a real good thing here, honey,” he said softly, not wanting to push you. “Just gotta relax and let me take care of you.”
“You already take care of me more than you take care of yourself. I’m fine, Dean. Promise.”
“Fine doesn’t mean good, sweetheart. Fine means you’re keeping your head above water. Want you to be able to focus on other things besides keeping yourself healthy enough to get through the day.”
“I just feel bad,” you said while he guided you to sit on the foot of the bed. “You’re so busy and important and the last thing I want to be is another item on the to-do list. You know, make sure your mess of a girlfriend brushes her teeth right under save the world from Lucifer.”
Dean barked out a laugh. “Baby. How can you think you’re a burden? You’re the only thing that makes any of what I do feel important.”
“What about Sam ?” You pushed. “Don’t act like I’m the only one you have to worry about.”
“Please. Sammy stopped listening to me after he turned fifteen.”
"I don't know. Just..." you trailed off, feeling your heart start bumping against your ribs and not exactly knowing how you were going to finish that sentence.
"Hey. We're not making any decisions right now, so I'm gonna need you to take a big breath, okay? We're just talking about something that I think could help both of us out."
Your eyes flicked back up to his. "This would help you?"
"Fuck, sweetheart. Thought it was more obvious," he said through a forced laugh, scrubbing his hand along his jaw. "Thought it was crystal fuckin' clear how I feel about you."
"I know you love me, dean," you replied, wanting to assure him that all he does doesn't go unnoticed.
"Babe. Not what I'm talking about. You're really gonna make he say it, huh?"
"Say what?" You looked up at him with wide eyes, your curiosity written all over your face.
"That, in a good way, when I'm takin' care of you it reminds me of takin' care of sammy when we were kids. I just need to know you're being taken care of in every sense, even the ones that normally don't go together. You just... flip a switch in my brain that makes me want to be more than your boyfriend." Noting your blank face, he kept barreling on. "But if any of that makes you uncomfortable just forget it, okay? Don't want you to feel like I'm takin' advantage of you or asking anything of you because I'm not. Promise you I'm not."
Like the pins in a lock sliding into place, you finally understood.
"Dean-" you started.
At this point absolutely desperate to make you understand, he kept going on. "I would've stopped absolutely everything if you didn't seem to like it, or didn't respond to it, but everything you did was way too perfect for me to not keep pushing. All bratty until I get you some food, pouty until I put you down for a nap, sweet as pie after you cum for me. I'm sorry, sweetheart, but it just made me go fuckin' crazy.
"Dean!" you interrupted, stopping his spiral. "It's okay. Don't apologize. You're... right. I guess I never realized that that is how I felt about you looking out for me. Always chalked it up to being appreciative," you said with a nervous giggle.
Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and the look on his face stole your breath away.
His lids were heavy with admiration, and he reached out to hold your jaw gently between his fingers, not giving you the option to look away from his gaze.
"Goddamn are you a sweet little thing. You loved bein' daddy's girl and didn't even know it."
While the nod you gave him was almost imperceptible, the look in your eyes spoke for you. Your pupils almost completely engulfed your irises, and they carried the blankness that is only earned from the feeling of complete and utter safety. You'd felt this sinking, warm feeling before, but always just shook it off and chalked it up to dean's skill, not realizing that it's something more.
"There she is," he murmured. "That head of yours is finally nice and quiet."
He helped you lay down on the bed, his fingers weaving with yours to hold them above your head. A grind of his hips against your clothed mound pulled a tiny, pathetic sound from your lips that he licked up with a kiss.
"You don't even understand what you do to me, sweetheart. How you make me feel. A good man, a good dad, doesn't think about doing the things I want to do to you." His breath was hot in your ear, and the strain in his voice told you how wrecked he is.
"Daddy," you whispered when he ground down, testing the word out. You'd let it slip a couple times when he was fucking you real good, but you'd never said it in a way that actually means something.
Dean's hands tightened around yours, obviously affected by his new honorific.
"Dad?" you rasped again, pushing this as far as he would let you.
Dean's loud groan and the way his cock jumped told you everything you need to know. In what he made look like a herculean effort he peeled his body from yours, kneeling on the ground at the foot of the bed. His hands gripped the elastic waistband of your pants, tugging them down and off with absolutely no respect for the garment.
"Jesus, you're fucking soaked," he said, his voice sounding pained. "Just gotta taste you before I give you what you need. Gotta taste my perfect little girl."
His tongue lapped at the absolute mess of your cunt, getting you close to clean before locking his mouth around your pearl. He sucked at you like he was starving, his tongue swirling and flicking you into an absolute frenzy.
"Dad," you whined, the focused stimulation making your legs shake and your cunt clench around nothing. "Can I- mhmm - please have your fingers."
He fed your cunt the tip of his middle finger without breaking the seal his mouth, but you could feel the edges of his lips curl up in a smile. He hummed in satisfaction around your clit, the vibration shooting warmth all throughout your body. The whole encounter felt so intimate, so dean, that you couldn't believe you were trying something new. Not a new action, because he practically lived between your legs, but a different context that carried a new weight of importance to each action.
The pad of his finger slid along your front wall, catching on each and every sensitive ridge. He touched you with utmost care, his strokes gentle and firm and designed to turn you into a pile of mush for him. When the tip of his finger reached your gummy spot deep inside you bucked, only herded back into line by the strong weight of his arm that he banded along your hips. He prodded at you insistently, making your tummy clench up and your clit throb through his ministrations.
You gasped and sputtered, your little whines urging him on.
"Cum for your dad, honey," he mumbled against your skin, moaning into your heat when he felt you starting to break apart. The pleasure shattered through your body, and your cunt clamped around his fingers while he gently fucked and licked you through it.
"Daddy's perfect fuckin' girl," he murmured, his voice reverent against your skin even as you were twitching from the aftershocks. "Swear to god you get more beautiful every time you cum."
He kissed and nipped along your thighs, shucking his shirt and stepping out of his jeans as he worked his way up your body. The warmth of his naked skin against yours only succeeded in making you clingy again, and you bound your arms and legs around his body to keep him close.
"I know, baby," he murmured, his tone carrying nothing except softness. "Just a little needy for your daddy, huh?"
You nodded against his skin, not trusting your voice with how small you felt. His tip notched against your entrance while you mouthed along his neck, trying to taste as much of the salty skin as you can. He slid in easily enough for you to close your eyes in embarrassment, not feeling ready to confront the realization of how much you actually like this.
"Jesus," he groaned, gently fucking your slick back into you. "Only get this hot and wet for your dad, huh? You've never been like this and called me by my fucking name."
" 'm sorry," you whined, your teeth starting to chatter with the way you felt your body blooming for him.
"Shhhh, baby." His hand swiped the sweaty hair off your face before cupping your jaw to ease the tic. "Just relax for me. Shouldn't have been teasing you when you're like this; just got a little too cute for me to resist."
"Okay," you sniffled, your jaw still trying to vibrate in his grasp and your hips grinding up to meet his in a way that made your brain feel totally scrambled.
Dean fed you the thumb of the hand resting on your jaw, groaning when he saw how readily you accepted it. You felt your eyes fluttering closed, your spasms finally able to relax with something else to focus on.
"That's it. Don't gotta say anything, okay? Just let dad take care of you."
His hips kept meeting yours at a relentless pace, the squelching and slapping of your bodies taken to an obscene level. He popped his thumb out of your mouth and you whined before he shushed you and hushed you up by moving his thumb to your clit. Your eyes flew open in surprise, the doe-like expression softening his attentive face.
"Yeah, that feels good, huh. Just needed a little of daddy's attention to cum. That's okay. Can't be a big girl all the time, right?"
You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, your wide eyes locked on his while you felt the bundle of pleasure in your belly tighten.
"I can feel your cunt gettin' needy, honey. You gonna let dad fill you up?"
You nodded desperately, your mind spinning out at the idea of getting pumped full. "Please," you agreed in a small voice, needing him to know how much you want it.
"Jesus, aren't you just daddy's perfect fuckin' girl."
All you could give him was a squeak in warning before you felt yourself clench around him wildly, your face crunching up in pleasure while warmth sparked all through your body. Dean was only a few pumps behind, burying his face in your neck with a groan as he painted you full.
He stayed inside of you for a few moments, not wanting to break the spell any sooner than he had to.
"Daddy?" you whispered, your voice still shaky but completely unwilling to feel sticky for a moment longer. "Can we take a bath?"
A smile pulled across his face, his eyes alight with a mix of adoration and relief.
"Of course, angel," he replied, already scooping you up in his arms. "How could I say no when you ask me like that?"
a/n - and then they lived happily ever after in their dd/lg dynamic until the end of time! yay!
heyyy pyre i just had a soldier boy thought that i had to share😩
do you think that ben or plays up the age gap??? cause he’s like a hundred years old and if he’s with a reader who’s in their 20s (which i usually imagine since i’m in my 20s) he’s like 5 times older than them😭😭
it’s like past “dad” at that point (although i LOVE your fauxcest stuff) he’s giving great granddad😭😭
A good question to which the answer is yes!! He's so fucking gross why would he draw the line there?
Ben drove into you deep, his arms holding your body like a ragdoll. With each thrust your whole body shook, and all you could do to take it was scrunch your fingers against his shoulders and whine out pathetic little 'daddy's.
"Daddy? I'm not your daddy, doll. I could be your fuckin' granddaddy. Or were you too dumb to even think about that before you let me fuck you raw?"
Your eyes flew open, your heart feeling like it had dropped to your stomach at the spoken reality of your situation. "What?"
"You fuckin' heard me. Call me what I am."
The pace of his thrusts had slowed to something torturous, only moving enough to remind you he was there without giving you any pleasure.
"You want me...?" Your voice trailed off, not even wanting to acknowledge the possibility, let alone voice it.
"You're damn right. We both know I can get you to say whatever I want; do you want to do it now, or with my handprints all over your ass?" He spoke slowly, like you were a child who he was trying to be patient with despite them misbehaving.
"Now," you replied timidly, hoping he would give you another prompt, some impossible context that would make this less obscene.
"Okay then," he said, pausing for a moment that was not nearly long enough for you to work up the courage to get the words out of your mouth. "Today, doll. So hard my dick is gonna fall off." He thrusted into you shallowly to punctuate his point, but all that did was scramble your brain even more.
One of his hands left it's bruising grip on your hip to start tapping at your face. Not hard enough to be considered slapping, but enough to leave a faint mark and get the blood pumping through your body.
"Sorry! I'm sorry..." you gasped in a breath, reminding yourself that all you had to do was get the words out and this was over. It didn't have to be a thing. "I'm sorry, granddaddy." You held your breath, praying that he would accept it and fuck you hard enough to make you forget what you just said.
"Yeah? Say it like you mean it," he said, working his hips back into a rhythm.
You whimpered the word again, your whole body feeling weak with resignation and need
"One more time." He added his thumb into the mix, rubbing your clit enough to make you clamp down and leak around his cock while the vulgar word left your mouth.
"There you go. Learnin' to squeeze her granddaddy like a goddamn vice."
“. . . have a baby by me, baby be a billionaire . . .”
jensen grips your hips, lifting you slightly off the bed to remove your white lace panties. “you want my babies huh?” he smirked, lining his dick up at the slit of your already leaking pussy. he didn’t slide in immediately, instead he teased you, brushing his tip lightly against your soaking folds. you didn’t answer, just reached up gripping his shirt, “jensen—fuck please..” you moaned as you watched him play in your juices. he always went for games, always made you beg, with him nothing ever came easy. why would this be any different?
“please what baby? tell me what you need, i can’t read your mind.” he snickers, his hands travel up your body, stopping just at the curve of your waist. his eyes were locked on you, he loved the sight of you so desperate and needy for him, so vulnerable, he could keep you like this forever. “please nut in me, fill me up, want all of you.” you breathed out, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. jensen let out a low chuckle before leaning down to kiss you sloppily, he moved down to your neck sucking on your sweet spot. your polished nails clawed at his back as you felt his dick at your entrance again, but this time he slips in—no warning.
“f-fuck yes, jensen.” you moan out, feeling his dick veins rub against your walls, you could hear how wet you were for him, each thrust drawing everything out of you. his face was still buried in your neck, nipping and biting at the skin there, you were sure a hickey was already forming. “that’s it, take it all. let’s see if i can finally knock you up this time, yeah?” he groans against you, your stomach does flips as you let his words sink in. you wanted it so bad, no—you needed it, needed to see his cum leaking out of you, needed to milk him completely until he had nothing left to give, you wanted every single drop.
“mhm, baby—ugh—need all of it.” you arch into him, his dick repeatedly hitting your g-spot. his pace is brutal, relentless, there’s nothing soft about the way he’s fucking you, like he’s trying to bury himself so far you’ll never get him out. his fingers press against your lower belly, feeling every inch of himself there, how deep he’s buried inside you. “you feel that, baby? feel how deep i am? you’re gonna take all of it.” his voice low, thick with possession as he spreads your thighs wider for him, nearly behind your head. you nod, lips parting, but no words come out—just a breathy, wrecked little whine. your hands gripping his arms, fingertips leaving little crescents in his skin as his dick twitches inside of you. your legs lock around his waist and his thrusts become harsher, more punishing.
“shit babydoll, so tight and swollen for me.” jensen growls into your mouth. “tell me how bad you want my seed baby, tell me how bad you want me to make you a mommy, gonna fucking ruin you for anyone else.” his hand slips down between you to trace lazy circles over your clit, making your hips jolt. the added sensation is enough to send you over the edge, your entire body trembles beneath him, drawing a loud throaty whine from you. “there it is, such a good girl. taking my dick so well, this pretty pussy is all mine.” his weight is firm, pinning you in place as he ruts into you with reckless abandon. his lips drag along your jawline, breath hot against your skin—and then you feel it. the warm liquid shooting into you, coating your walls, and a guttural moan escapes jensen’s lips, rumbling against your skin. your walls clench around him, keeping his nut inside, it flooding you, spilling so deep into your spent little pussy.
“now get ready for another one, i’m not pulling out until i know it stuck kay? you wanted me raw, right baby?”
warnings ﹔ incest, emotional abuse, cheating mention, female masturbation, corruption kink, innocence kink ﹠ more. 18+ only, minors are not welcome. don’t like it, don’t read it.
you’ve just been dumped by your boyfriend because he cheated on you, all because you weren’t ready to have sex with him. your dad is sat at your side, large hand rubbing soft circles on your inner thigh as you cry into his shoulder. jensen isn’t saying much at first, just tucks your hair behind your ear and whispers like “he didn’t deserve you, baby. no one’s ever gonna love you the way you need if they can’t even see you like this,” his voice is so low, soft and fatherly, sending shivers down your spine.
you sniffle leaning into him, “how do i know if i’m ready? i mean, i’ve never even —” you pause, cheeks going hot and fingers fiddling. jensen inhales deeply, eyes never leaving your face, “never what, baby? never touched yourself?” he says it like nothing, but the words make your stomach flip. shaking your head, “n-no… never done it..” you admit reluctantly, gaze dropping down to his hand on your thigh, taking notice how it’s moved slightly higher now, causing your breath to hitch.
“mh, you want me to teach you?” jensen mutters, eyes scanning over your frame like he’s already picturing you undone in his hands. he feels you tense immediately under him, eyes wide, clearly a bit thrown off by his suggestion, “you? b-but you’re my dad?” your face twists in confusion, not completely against it, just puzzled. both of his hands now come up to palm at your sides, almost as if prying you open for him. “just means who better than me, princess?”
now, he’s got you spread out between his legs, back to his chest, legs tangled up, your bottoms long discarded. “no, like this babygirl — slow circles,” jensen mutters from behind you, breath hot against your ear, hand hovering over yours as you rub yourself for the first time. fingers working on your clit with precision, “l-like this?” you gasp out, rhythm never faltering even as the pressure builds up. jensen groans watching you, now palming at your thighs, spreading them wider, making his dick twitch at the sight.
“fuck, yes princess, just like that. don’t stop, baby.” your dad coos, his coaxing tone sending you closer to the edge, practically drawing the orgasm out of you. your brows furrow, lips parting in a broken moan, “uhuh daddy — won’t stop,” his lips attach to your neck, tongue licking over the warm skin, sucking at your sweet spot. “please — i’m gonna —” your release crashes into you, hips bucking hard as your back arches against his chest, legs daring to shut but he clamps them open.
his breath stutters in sync with yours, a broken laugh caught somewhere between satisfaction and disbelief as he keeps you right there — shaking, spilling, trembling through it. every nerve still twitching, every sound that leaves you smaller than the last.“my good girl, let go f’me” jensen groans into your neck, brain swirling but appearing composed for you because he’s taking pride in knowing your first orgasm belonged to him, and not some shitty teenager who could never deserve it.
💭 thinking about dad!jensen who teaches you how to ride him, his back against the headboard, your thighs split over his as you sink down on him slowly. hands tightly gripping his shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his tee, “’s it, babygirl” he hisses, large hands gripping your waist, fingers digging in deep. your head is thrown back, mouth hung open, eyes shut and brows furrowed as your dad’s dick stretches you. “slow, baby. i want you to feel every inch,” his tip brushes that squishy part inside you, and both of you gasp like something just broke, but it’s taking everything inside him not to just force you onto him.
his hands drop to your ass, squeezing, eyes locked onto where he’s disappearing inside you. his cock twitches as you clench around him, pulling a deep guttural groan from his chest, “takin’ me s’good, s’well, baby” he pants against your neck, leaving a trail of slopping kisses on your warm skin. then he starts to buck into you slowly, hips arching to meet yours in slow ragged motions, and you’re already so wet it starts to drip down his shaft.
one hand slides down between you both, meeting your clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive bud of skin, just right. you clench again as he rocks in and out of your soaked cunt, “fuck daddy, gonna cum —” you grind your hips down onto him, he keeps you steady as you reach one hand up to tug your bra down, tits spilling out as you cup them, “yeah, cum for daddy babygirl, soak my fucking cock,” he leans forward taking one of your nipples into his mouth, gaze stuck on your face now.
your body trembles on him, clenching uncontrollably as your orgasm washes over you, hands shooting back up grip his shoulders. broken moans and curses fall from your lips, and your spasms send jensen over the edge, his cum spills deep inside you. pulling you flush towards him, he doesn’t stop fucking into you, riding it out, and still tonguing at your chest, groaning so deep you feel the vibration against your body.
you collapse on top of him, legs twitching as you come down, “did perfect baby, next time i’ll make you do it with no hands,” he mumbles into your skin, pressing kisses.
mmm mommy issues dean is so yummy i need to hold him and make him whimper right now mmmm
-🦇
mommy issues dean who has to suck your tits in order to get to sleep some nights. mommy issues dean who reverts back to being a needy little boy when you’re jerking him off. mommy issues dean whining out for his mama (you) when you’re riding him into overstimulation. mommy issues dean who cries when you coo at him that “mommy’s here” when he’s buried his face in your shoulder during missionary. mommy issues dean who sucks on your fingers, babbling at you with teary eyes cause he’s just so overwhelmed that anyone could ever be so gentle with him.
૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა MDNI!!!
massively avoiding class for this one guys
Hardlaunching!! Petplay with Soldier Boy tehe (it's nasty be warned)
Petplay where you’re his bunny who sleeps in a cage with twinkle lights and fluffy blankets, who sits wearing only a pretty pink collar forced to watch him fuck other women, then getting spanked for touching yourself without permission.
He's got your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks and making you pout as you look at him, bent over his knee, ass raw and covered in big handprints. "are you ready to be a good bunny yet? hm?" You hiccup a little weeping sound, nodding against his hand as he wipes tears across your cheeks. "speak up baby girl," he says, lightly smacking the back of your thigh and making you twitch. You'll keep holding your tongue until he starts finger-fucking the response out of you (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
Pet-reader who he buys slutty little lingerie for that barely fits and pinches your clit hard enough to make you wince when you get on your knees for him. Who cries when he abuses your mouth with his cock and forces you to pull away as he cums so he can paint you and not let you clean up after. He likes to leave you all marked up and disgusting. You'd have cum leaking out your ass and he’d force you to wear a plug with a fluffy tail he can tug to tease and humiliate you.
He’s got a pink little dog bed next to his desk where you sit all day ready for when he wants you to unbuckle his pants. If you’re extra good he’ll buy you a new plushie or let you sleep in his bed. You get little short skirts and too-tight tops to show off all the lace and silk wrapped tightly around your breasts, arms, and thighs. Everything is meant to leave you just uncomfortable enough to always be in a needy mood.
You have metal bowls for food and water that are served at the same times every day. Ben makes you sit and beg for it each time, and usually he makes you jerk him off after watching you lap at the water, splashing it all over the front of yourself and getting your little shirt all wet and see-through :( It's not his fault you turn him on in ways no one else can.
His favorite thing is watching you begging for his cock. Whether you're on your knees, tongue out and panting for the taste of him, or squirming beneath him, ass up and grinding against him, little sounds muffling in the sheets, damp from tears and drool. How needy you are for him to fuck you raw, how you cry and whine when he's rough with you.
He’ll make you attend events with him wearing a panty vibrator he uses like a shock collar when you misbehave. You have to keep yourself from whimpering at the table when you drink without his permission, and you get so close when he turns it on full intensity just cause you smiled at another man. He'll force you to wear whorish dresses and bold collars with his name on them, even walk you with a chain if you’ve been a bad, bad little bunny.
⊹ ˖ Ი𐑼
But you love this life too. getting to sleep in the comfy kennel with your toys and blankets that block out the light. Pawing at his thighs when you wanna suck him off, pussy drooling and dirtying your panties while you rub your cheek against his inner thigh, feeling him harden while he tries shooing you away. You don't have to think about every meal, every outfit, every day. It's all planned for you, and you're never put in situations you don't like.
When he leaves for days on end, you get to curl up in his bed wearing his clothes, watching whatever you want on the tv while eating junk food. You make sure there's evidence when he gets back so he can give you a nice long punishment :)
Summary: During an intimate moment in the Impala, a seemingly small touch triggers your past trauma, causing you to panic and cry. Dean immediately stops, prioritizing your comfort over everything else, and fiercely reassures you that your well-being will always come first.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content (interrupted), depictions of a panic attack/PTSD flashback, references to past emotional abuse, emotional vulnerability, and intense hurt/comfort.
Also any mistakes are my own, please do not repost my work anywhere however reblogs are fine and welcome :)
If you love it, please comment and/or reblog. Let me know your thoughts! :)
**IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT DON’T READ IT**
A/N: My take on how Dean would react if you had past trauma and it bled through in an intimate moment.
There is no direct or explicit details of trauma in this just the reaction that can happen from past trauma.
Please please please do not read this if there is a chance it could trigger you!! Take care of yourselves first and always! Much love! :)
The familiar scent of leather seats and Dean’s sweat filled the cramped backseat of the Impala. Moonlight filtered through the dusty windows, illuminating the frantic movement of your bodies. His hips pistoned against yours, the rhythm desperate and hungry. Your fingers dug into the worn leather of the seat beneath you, arching to meet every powerful thrust. Moans, low and breathless, escaped both of you, lost in the heat and friction. His lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck, his breath ragged against your damp skin.
It was perfect. He was perfect. Dean Winchester, rough and tender, focused entirely on you. His hand slid down your side, possessive and claiming, fingers brushing the curve of your hip bone. A familiar jolt of pleasure shot through you, sharp and bright.
Then, it happened.
His thumb pressed firmly against that sensitive spot on your hipbone – exactly where he used to dig his fingers in, hard enough to bruise, a silent reminder of control during moments meant for surrender. A memory, sharp as shattered glass, ripped through the haze of pleasure.
Not Dean. Him. The cold eyes, the mocking laugh, the feeling of being trapped beneath a weight that wasn't just physical.
A choked gasp tore from your throat, instantly different from the moans of seconds before. The heat flooding your veins turned icy. The pleasure vanished, replaced by a terrifying wave of panic that crashed over you, stealing your breath. Your body went rigid beneath Dean’s.
"Hey? Wha—?" Dean froze mid-thrust, his head snapping up. His eyes, dark with desire moments ago, widened in alarm. He saw the tears welling, spilling over instantly, tracking hot paths down your temples into your hair. He saw the tremors starting in your shoulders, vibrating through your entire frame. Your whimpers weren't of pleasure anymore; they were raw, frightened sounds escaping a tight throat.
Panic flared in his own eyes, sharp and immediate. "Shit! Baby.. Did I hurt you? Did I—?" He scrambled backwards off you faster than you thought possible, pulling himself out with a slick sound that felt horribly loud in the sudden silence. He knelt beside you on the seat, hands hovering, afraid to touch. "Talk to me, sweetheart! What happened? Did I do something?"
You tried to shake your head, but the movement was jerky, uncontrolled. You were shaking violently now, trapped in the suffocating grip of the past. Tears streamed freely, your breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. "N-no," you managed to stammer, the word thick with tears. "N-not you... Dean... I-I'm sorry... I'm s-so sorry..." Shame washed over you, hot and sickening. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will the panic away, to bury it back down where it belonged. "J-just... give me... a minute... I'll be okay... then... then you can..." You couldn't even finish the sentence, gesturing weakly towards him, implying he could finish what he'd started.
Dean stared at you. Utterly still. The frantic worry in his eyes hardened into something else. Disbelief. Then, a slow, dawning fury. Not at you. Never at you. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle jump.
"No." The word was low, rough, absolute. It cut through your panicked whimpers.
You blinked, tears blurring your vision. Confusion pierced the fog of panic. He wasn't impatiently shifting his weight. He wasn't glancing down at his own obvious arousal with frustration. He was focused entirely on you, kneeling beside you in the cramped space, his expression fierce with protectiveness.
"Wh- what?" you whispered, sniffing, utterly bewildered by his reaction.
He leaned forward then, carefully, deliberately. One large, calloused hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a tear track. The other arm slid beneath your shoulders, pulling you firmly but infinitely gently against his bare chest. His skin was hot, his heartbeat a rapid drum against your ear. He tucked your head under his chin, his lips brushing your hairline.
"Why the hell," he growled, his voice thick with an emotion you couldn't name, "would you ever think I give a damn about finishing right now?" He pulled back just enough to look down into your tear-streaked face. His green eyes burned with intensity. "Look at me. Really look."
You did. You saw no anger directed at you. No impatience. Only fierce, unwavering concern and a simmering rage directed at ghosts.
"I don't know what kind of world-class, grade-A douchebags you've been tangled up with before," he continued, his voice dropping lower, rougher, vibrating with suppressed fury. "But listen to me, and listen good. That?" He gestured vaguely back towards the space where your bodies had been joined moments ago. "That ain't expected of you. Ever. Not finishing me off, not pretending you're okay when you're clearly not, not pushing through some goddamn panic attack just so I get mine." His hand tightened gently on your shoulder. "That ain't okay. That's never okay. Especially not with me."
He searched your eyes, his own softening slightly, though the protective fire still burned bright. "You think I could enjoy myself," he murmured, his thumb stroking your cheek again, "knowing you were hurting? Knowing you were scared? Knowing you were forcing yourself?" He shook his head slowly, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "Hell no. Not happening."
The raw sincerity in his voice, the sheer disbelief that you'd even suggest he'd prioritize his own release over your distress, started to chip away at the icy panic gripping you.
The shaking began to lessen, the frantic gasps easing into deeper, shuddering breaths. You buried your face against his chest again, inhaling the familiar scent of him – gun oil, cheap soap, Dean – a grounding anchor in the storm.
"I... I didn't mean..." you mumbled into his skin, the shame still present but now mixed with a dawning sense of profound relief.
"Shhh," he soothed, his arms tightening around you, enveloping you completely. He rested his chin on top of your head. "Just breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe. We're done. We're done* with that. You're safe. I got you." His hand rubbed slow, comforting circles on your back. "Take all the time you need. All of it. We ain't movin' until you're ready."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was filled with the sound of your slowing breaths, his steady heartbeat, and the profound sense of being sheltered. The frantic heat of moments ago was replaced by a different kind of warmth – the deep, encompassing warmth of being utterly cherished and protected. Dean Winchester, the hardened hunter, held you with a tenderness that felt more intimate than anything that had come before, abandoning everything else without a second thought, simply because you needed him to. The tears still fell, but they were quieter now, washing away the panic, leaving behind a shaky exhaustion and the overwhelming, comfort of his unwavering presence.
His lips pressed softly against your temple, a silent promise.
summary: dad ben fucks reader too rough and older brother dean comforts her
cw: MDNI!!!, dead dove do not eat, dad ben x reader, older brother dean x reader (although they don't fuck in this one yet but they kiss!!!), cnc, abuse, fauxcest, reader is an adult!!!, wedgie, p in v, breeding kink kinda, squirting
it was the middle of the night when you waited for the imminent arrival of your dad— ben. the routine was the same as usual. your older brother dean got you dressed up in your linen nightgown, brushed your hair and pressed a goodnights kiss on your forehead. "good night, sweetheart. don't let the monsters get to you. I'll be in my room of you need anything. " dean whispered gently before turning around to leave the room.
you grasped onto his wrist. "deannie- the monster..." your brittle voice trembled. with all the courage you could muster you opened your mouth to talk about what your dad has been doing to you. but all the sin and sick from him spoiled within you. a wave of disgust pooled up in your stomach, so intense that you couldn't even talk about it. the words died in your throat, tears filling your eyes instead.
"hey, hey, hey what's going on, baby? are you scared of sleeping alone again?" he asked before opening his arms for you. "c'mere, you're safe with me."
you instantly jumped in his arms, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. his comforting scent calmed your rapid breathing down. "deanie, I'm not safe. he'll hurt me again." you managed to get out.
of course the comfort didn't last long. "you two are getting too fuckin' close to my liking." ben's voice cut through like a knive. "dean, you're acting like you're licking your sissy's cunt every night. give her some space." he pulled dean off of you, taking your only comfort away in this fucked up life. "leave. I'll take care of her."
guilt gnawed at dean. nobody had authority over him, not even the cops that were constantly after him. no one except his father. ben was the only person who he couldn't stand up to. "yes sir." dean answered in a loud voice to make himself seem stronger. he took one last glance at you, his eyes sparkling with remorse before leaving the room.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────
"can't help but act like a fuckin' whore around dean, huh?" ben barked. his hand struck your face so hard that it left you disoriented. "look at me while I'm talking to you." he commanded.
you glanced up at him with wide eyes, your salty tears about to spill any time now. "yes dad." you croaked, wanting to die right there and then.
"good girl. you're gonna make up to dad now, okay?" he leaned down to kiss you. his rough beard scratched your sensitive skin as his mouth was practically devouring yours, trying to swallow you up. your face grimaced at how he was forcing his tongue inside your mouth. it was so sloppy, his saliva getting all over you. he was like a damn wolf who couldn't stop drooling over his prey.
you kept thinking that dean would treat you differently. his kiss would be tender and full of love. he would craddle your face like you're the most precious thing in the world and make sure you're enjoying yourself too.
ben's hands sliding down to squeeze your ass distracted you from your thoughts. after another suffocating minute he finally pulled away, breathing heavily next to you. his breath smelled like bourbon and cigarette smoke. "you're the sweetest thing in the world, dad can't even stay mad at you."
"daddy, can I sleep now please?" you requested in a sugary voice thinking that he's maybe calmer now. "am really tired now." you faked a yawn, trying to come across as credible.
"after dad is done playing with you." he said in a calm voice, one that was way to calm for his nature. "get on the bed on your hands and knees." he ordered, cold and calculated.
with a defeated whimper you got in the position he wanted. ben lifted up your nightgown and landed a harsh slap on your ass. "thought I told you to stop wearing panties to bed? is that too difficult for your dumb brain to understand." he pulled your white cotton undies upward. the fabric lodged firmly between your pussy lips giving you a wedgie.
"dad, it burns." you mewled at the uncomfortable sensation, trying to squirm away.
he was practically flossing your pussy with your undies, pulling them up even higher. "bad girls get punishments when they don't listen to their daddy." he scolded before snapping your panties against your skin.
your toes curled at the painful sensation and you let out a cry. "am so so sorry, it will never happen again. I promise." your hand reached out towards a plushie that dean once bought you. you grasped it so tightly, trying to comfort yourself. it was a ritual that you did whenever ben fucked you. it reminded you that at least you didn't live alone with this monster.
"good girl." he praised before spreading your legs. his hands pulled your panties down. "fuck." he groaned looking at your pussy before pushing two digits in, stretching your hole out for him. "your cunt is dripping like a damn faucet right now."
god, you felt so gross for getting turned on by him. you couldn't even get any words out except some pathetic moans. just a few minutes ago you were crying to dean about it and now you were enjoying this.
"have corrupted you, haven't I? turned you into such a depraved slut for me." his harsh words echoed in your ear. you didn't even realize that he's already pulled his cock out. "such a gross bitch, getting wet because her daddy abuses her." he slaps his thick shaft on your pussy a few times before sliding it in.
he rutted his hips like he was possessed, the fat of his cock stirring your insides with each trust. "yeah you're taking your daddy's cock so well, aren't you?" he groaned.
"aha." you agreed with him weakly, starting to really enjoy the way his cock felt around you. this happened every time. you did everything in your power to get away from him but the moment he started fucking you it was like you entered this lobotimized state.
ben pressed your head down in the matress, making sure that your moans got muffled. there was a disgustingly, addictive pleasure he felt whenever he had sex with you. "such a sweet cunt, love how she swallows daddy's cock." he praised as he kept pumping his cock in and out of you, the force of his thrust made you drop your plushie down on the floor. "fuck am gonna cum inside of your cunnie, princess."
those words broke the trance you were in. you tried scrambling away from his grip "please, you know I'm not on birth control." you choked out.
ben reached out to pinch your clit. "shhh, it doesn't matter what you want. dad knows what's best for you." he whispered in your ear making. he could smell the fear on your skin. you knew getting away from him would've been futile because ben was way older and stronger than you. plus he was your dad, you relied on him. so you just laid there and took it.
"don't fucking act like you're not enjoying this. your whore cunt is saying otherwise, so wet I thought you were pissing yourself for a moment." his words and thrusts so harsh that you began sobbing again.
you felt his cock twitch in you as he unloaded his warm cum in you. everything was just too much and before you knew it a gush of clear liquid spurts out of you.
"so fucking dirty. as much as you might hate it, sweetheart, you really are just like your daddy." he drawled so full of himself before leaving you laying there, drowning in your own shame.
───୨ৎ──────୨ৎ───
with trembling legs you bent down to grab the plushie off the floor and walked up to dean's room. "deanie, I need you." you sniffled.
dean knew what was going on. he craddled you in his arms, holding you like you were about to break. tears filled his own eyes "you didn't deserve this, sweetheart. we'll get away from him one day, I promise." he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
his eyes trailed down to your plush lips and without much thought he closed the gap. his thumb massaged your cheek as his soft lips collided with yours. it wasn't as gentle as you'd expected — it was rather desperate. when he pulled away you rested your forehead on his. "I love you." you both said somehow simultaneously before falling asleep together.
Forgive me if this has already been obsessed over, but cockwarming/riding Ben reverse cowgirl with a full bladder. And Ben just refuses to let you go to the bathroom because your pussy is so warm and wet and why should he have to stop, so he just presses down your belly and makes you piss yourself while he continues to ruts into you
omgg anon, your mind is amazing. I LOVEEEEE this request
MDNI
ben knew you hated reversed cowgirl because he got to see your entire body while you just saw his feet. so the fact that he was making you cockwarm him for thirty minutes in this position was actually insulting.
you whimpered frustrated as your cunt enclosed his thick, girthy cock. "this is so unfair, I can just see your toes."
"you could suck on 'em instead of complaining, doll." he responded so full of himself, leaving you completely frustrated. but what frustrated you even more was the pressure pooling your stomach. "mmm can I go to the bathroom, dad? please... I want to pee." you whined.
"no, need your cunt to keep warming my cock. hold it in." he ordered accompanied by a smack on your ass. you began shifting uncomfortably trying your best to find a position that would relieve the need to pee.
"did I fuckin' tell you to move? what an embarrassment. are you not even able to hold your piss, huh?" he teased, his hand reaching out to press down onto your belly.
"please stop, please I can't hold it-" you squealed and that only made him press down harder. with a small cry you pissed all over his cock, yellow liquid dripping down and dampening the bedsheets.
"pissing on yourself like a dumb bitch. can't even do one thing I ask you for." he barked while holding onto both of your hips tightly making sure you can't move.
"you like being helpless on dad's cock, huh?" he taunted and you couldn't help but nod in agreement.
"that's good, doll. daddy is going to fuck you silly while your messy piss is all over us and then I'll make you lick it clean." ben said before starting to thrust in you.
who? soldier boy / f!reader
content warnings? mentions of periods, tooth rotting fluff, caretaker ben (he's trying), implied established relationship
word count? 3.6k
peanut gallery? this is mostly a self indulgent post tbh, also we're ignoring how radiation works for this one LMAO
you knew it was coming before he did. you were extra sore, you slept in longer than usual, you didn't like being too far from him for too long, so on and so on. he chalked it up to you catching a cold or something, and didn't ask questions.
well, he wasn't gonna ask questions, until today.
you'd been holed up in your shared room all day, curled in a tight ball on the bed in an effort to ignore your cramps. newsflash, it hasn't been working all that well. when he finally came into the room after a particularly long and irritating meeting with the seven, you relaxed fractionally.
"doll," he murmured, circling the bed to sit on the edge next to you. "have you even moved yet?"
you shook your head, nose scrunching in pain when you shifted. he noticed, because of course he did.
"y'wanna tell me what's botherin' you? or am i supposed to just guess," he huffed, brushing some hair from your face.
"'s embarrassing," you whined, but you leaned into his touch all the same.
"i've fucked you over a balcony, i'm pretty sure—" he started, but stopped with a grin when you shot him a look. "i can handle it."
you huffed, chewing at your lip like you were weighing your options. he wasn't gonna drop it, and you were hurting too much to really care.
"period cramps, okay? been in bed cause 'm on my period," you mumble, looking away sheepishly.
his face did something complicated, before returning back to normal. he'd been around since the forties, killed people with his bare hands, and you really thought he'd get squeamish about a period?
"i'll be fine, i shouldn't have even told you—" you start, but he shakes his head and holds up a finger before padding out of the room.
cool, you've grossed him out and he's gonna leave and-
he comes back in with your favorite water bottle and a handful of advil, as well as a fluffier blanket than what was on the bed. now it's your turn to make a face.
"what's all that for?" you murmur, watching him from the bed.
"what, you think you're the first to start bleedin'? i've been around the block, sweetheart." he grunts, moving over to you and helping you sit up.
you take the water and the painkillers, and he drapes the blanket around you when you settle back down in the bed.
"can you lay with me?" you hum, looking up at him with those stupidly convincing puppy eyes that you pull whenever you want something.
he lets out a soft rumble of a chuckle, toeing off his boots before climbing into the bed next to you. he pulls you against him, a hand splayed over your stomach, his chest pressed firm against your back. you relax into his grip, your muscles already unwinding themselves.
now, you'd have been happy with just cuddling, but he had a better idea. you feel his palm start to warm up, and it doesn't occur to you what he's doing until he starts moving it over your lower stomach, right where the cramps had been the worst. you make a soft noise of relief, eyelids fluttering when the warmth spread over your skin.
you glanced down for a moment, watching the dull glow under the blanket that radiated from his hand. you shifted closer to him, if that was even possible, until you were nestled fully in his arms.
"feel better?" he murmured, words slightly muffled from his head being tucked against the crook of your neck.
"so much better," you breathed, your breathing already starting to even out. "too good to me,"
"nah," he hummed, pressing a kiss into your neck. "just love you."
01 . ⠀⠀ ˚ ﹒ ૮ ⠀⠀⠀━╋⠀⠀𖤝 summary :: ben only meant to use the bathroom, but walking in on you half bare with a razor in your hand changes everything. what starts as an accidental interruption quickly turns into something filthy, mean, and completely shameless when ben decides you need to be punished for trying to shave what he thinks should be left exactly as it is || 10k
02 . ⠀⠀ ˚ ﹒ ૮ ⠀⠀⠀━╋⠀⠀𖤝 content warnings ::⠀⠀dad’s best friend!ben . age gap . power imbalance . rough sex . bathroom sex . bush kink . pussy worship . daddy kink . degradation . mean dom!ben . punishment kink . face slapping . spanking . clit pinching . oral sex . face fucking . spit . messy oral . cunnilingus . mirror sex . manhandling . praise kink . humiliation kink . unprotected sex . creampie . risky setting . dirty talk
navigation . kofi
BEN NEVER KNOCKED because Ben had known your family for too damn long and walked through the house like every hallway had his name on the deed. He came down the hall with that heavy, arrogant stride of his, belt already half loosened, muttering something about needing to take a piss before the game came back on.
The bathroom door swung open before you had any time to react, and suddenly there he was, broad shoulders filling the frame like he belonged there. You were sitting on the closed toilet seat with one leg propped against the edge of the bathtub, razor in hand, shaving cream smeared messily along your inner thigh.
Your pussy was exposed between your parted legs, soft hair still damp from warm water and soap, your skin already flushed from the awkward position you’d twisted yourself into. For one frozen second, neither of you moved. Ben’s eyes dropped before he could pretend they hadn’t, and the sight hit him hard enough that his jaw locked instantly.
He saw the spread of you, the softness, the wet shine where embarrassment and heat had already started betraying you. His cock reacted before his brain caught up, hardening so fast beneath his jeans that he had to shift his stance.
His thoughts about you had never been clean, not once, no matter how many times he’d told himself you were off limits. Now you were right in front of him like every filthy idea he’d ever swallowed down had crawled out and sat pretty between your thighs.
“What the hell are you doin’?” he asked, voice low and rough, but his eyes didn’t leave you. You should’ve snapped your legs shut quicker, should’ve screamed at him like this was horrifying, should’ve thrown the razor at his head for walking in without knocking.
Instead, your thighs only shifted halfway together before hesitation caught you because the way he looked at you made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t pretend was fear. “Ben,” you breathed, clutching the razor like it could save you from your own body. “Get out.”
The words came out too soft to be serious, too breathless to mean anything close to rejection, and both of you knew it the second they left your mouth.
Ben’s mouth twitched like he heard the lie in them immediately. “Yeah?” he said, stepping farther into the bathroom instead of leaving. “That what you want, sweetheart?”
Your lips parted, but no answer came out. His gaze dropped again, openly this time, shameless in a way that made your pulse hammer. The bathroom suddenly felt too small, too warm, too full of him and the heavy drag of his attention across your bare skin.
Ben pushed the door shut behind him with one hand, the quiet click of the latch making your whole body tense. He didn’t lock it, but he didn’t need to for the sound to feel final. “Put the damn razor down,” he said. It wasn’t loud, but it was unmistakably a command. Your fingers tightened around the handle once before loosening, the razor settling against the counter beside you with a tiny plastic tap.
Ben’s eyes followed the movement, then dragged back down to your lap. He looked at the shaving cream on your thigh, the soft hair you’d been about to remove, and the exposed heat of your pussy with an expression that bordered on offended.
“You were gonna shave all that off?” he asked, voice dropping lower. Your face burned so badly you thought you might actually pass out from it.
“I was going to,” you muttered, trying to sound annoyed and failing horribly. Ben’s jaw ticked, and his cock throbbed hard in his jeans as he stared at the part of you he had no business wanting this much.
“Don’t,” he said flatly. You blinked at him, stunned by how serious he sounded. “Excuse me?” Ben took one slow step closer, boots heavy against the tile, eyes dark and unashamed. “I said don’t,” he repeated, like you were testing his patience on purpose. “Hair adds personality.”
The words were so obscene in his mouth that your pussy clenched before you could stop it. Ben saw the tiny twitch of your thighs, saw the way your stomach pulled tight, and his expression sharpened with satisfaction.
“Well, goddamn,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You liked that.” Your breath caught hard enough to make your chest rise visibly. “You can’t just say things like that,” you whispered. Ben gave a low, humourless laugh. “Honey, I can say a hell of a lot worse than that.”
You hated how badly you wanted him to. You hated how your body had gone hot all over, how the cool air against your exposed pussy made you feel even more aware of how open you were under his gaze. You hated that he hadn’t touched you once and yet you could already feel wetness gathering, slick and humiliating, making you ache.
Ben watched it happen with the kind of attention that made you feel stripped past naked, like he could see every thought you’d ever had about him. He looked older, rougher, meaner than any fantasy you’d let yourself have, broad and smug and so full of himself it should’ve disgusted you. Instead, it made your thighs tremble.
“You always this mouthy when you’re sittin’ there with your pussy out?” he asked. “Or is that just for me?” Your breath stuttered. “Ben,” you warned, but it came out weak and needy. His eyes lifted to yours, and the amusement there was cruel enough to make your stomach drop. “Don’t use that tone unless you’re askin’ me to fix it.”
The worst part was that you had imagined him fixing it too many times to count. You had thought about Ben when he leaned over you in the kitchen to grab something from a high cabinet, smelling like whiskey, smoke, and expensive cologne.
You had thought about him when his hand brushed your lower back as he moved past you at family cookouts, careless and brief, but enough to make you throb for hours afterward. You had thought about the rough sound of his voice saying your name, thought about him catching you staring, thought about him knowing exactly what you wanted before you had to admit it.
At night, alone in your room, you’d dragged your dildo from the drawer with shaking fingers and pushed it between your thighs while imagining it was him. You’d ridden it slowly at first, knees planted in the mattress, one hand braced against the headboard while the other rubbed messy circles over your clit.
You’d pictured Ben beneath you, big hands gripping your hips, mouth twisted into something mean as he watched you struggle to take him. Sometimes you’d bounced so desperately that the toy slipped against that sensitive spot inside you again and again until your legs shook.
Sometimes you’d buried your face in your pillow and moaned his name into the fabric, terrified someone might hear and secretly wanting them to. More than once, you’d come with Ben’s name on your tongue, your pussy clenching around silicone while your brain filled in the weight, heat, and cruelty of him instead.
Sometimes, when the fantasy got too filthy to stop, you’d whispered Daddy into your pillow and pretended it was his hand in your hair forcing you to say it louder.
Ben didn’t know the details, but he knew enough from the look on your face. He saw recognition flicker there, saw guilt, saw the exact kind of shame that only came from being caught wanting something you’d already touched yourself to.
His cock pressed painfully against his zipper now, thick and hard, the ache making his patience feel thinner by the second. He had tried not to think about you like this because your father was his friend and because there were lines even he understood he wasn’t supposed to cross. But he’d thought about you anyway.
He’d thought about your mouth when you laughed too hard at his jokes, your legs when you crossed them on the couch, your ass in those tiny shorts you wore around the house like you didn’t know what you were doing. He’d thought about bending you over the kitchen counter while everyone else was outside, about pressing a hand over your mouth and making you stay quiet.
He’d thought about how pretty you’d look crying from too much pleasure, how quickly your attitude would disappear once he got his hands on you. Seeing you now, wet and exposed and pretending you weren’t leaning toward him, snapped something ugly and hungry inside him.
“You’ve thought about this,” he said, voice quiet and dangerous. Your eyes widened. Ben smiled without warmth. “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.”
You swallowed hard, but the denial wouldn’t come. It sat uselessly behind your teeth while his gaze pinned you in place. “I didn’t say anything,” you whispered.
“You don’t have to.” Ben moved closer again until his knees nearly brushed yours, his shadow falling over you in the cramped bathroom. “Your body’s runnin’ its mouth just fine.” Your thighs pressed together on instinct, but the movement only dragged your wet folds against each other and pulled a tiny sound from your throat.
Ben’s eyes dropped instantly. “There it is,” he said, mean satisfaction cutting through his voice. “You’re wet.” Your face burned so violently you had to look away. He reached down and caught your chin, fingers firm enough to stop you from hiding but not painful.
“No,” he said. “You don’t get shy after sittin’ here like this.” Your lashes fluttered, breath trembling under his thumb. “I didn’t know you were coming in.” Ben leaned closer, his voice dragging rough against your skin. “And now that I am?”
The question hung between you, filthy and heavy. You should’ve said something smart, something sharp, something that made you feel less exposed. Instead, your gaze dropped to the front of his jeans. The shape of him was impossible to miss now, hard and thick behind denim, straining like the sight of you had ruined every bit of control he thought he had.
Ben noticed you looking and gave a low laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s your fault.” Your lips parted softly, heat blooming through your stomach at the accusation. “Mine?”
“You’re sittin’ there with your legs open and that pretty little cunt out, and you’re askin’ if it’s yours?” His fingers tightened slightly at your jaw when you shivered. “Don’t play stupid with me.”
A shaky breath escaped you, and your pussy clenched again under the weight of his words. Ben watched your reaction like it fed him. “Fuck,” he muttered. “You really do like it mean.”
You did, and that was the problem. Your old partners had always tried to be sweet, careful, soft in ways that made you feel restless instead of wanted. You’d wanted rough hands and dirty words and someone who didn’t ask you five times if every breath was okay when your body was already begging.
You’d wanted someone who could look at you and know you needed to be handled. Ben looked like exactly that kind of man. He looked like the kind of man who would take your attitude apart one cruel sentence at a time and enjoy every second of it. He looked like the kind of man who would call you pretty and pathetic in the same breath.
Your stomach tightened as his thumb dragged slowly along your lower lip, and you had to fight the urge to open your mouth for him. “What are you thinkin’ about?” he asked. You shook your head faintly, cheeks blazing. Ben’s expression hardened with impatience. “Use your words.”
“I’ve thought about you,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. Ben went very still. The room seemed to shrink around both of you, the hum of the bathroom light suddenly louder overhead. His eyes darkened in a way that made your pulse stumble. “Yeah?” he asked. “How?”
Your fingers curled against your bare thigh, nails pressing tiny crescents into your skin. “At night,” you whispered, voice shaking. “When I’m alone.” Ben’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, and his cock jerked visibly in his jeans.
“Doin’ what?” Your throat worked around a swallow. “Riding my toy.” His nostrils flared, and the grip on your chin turned more possessive. “Moanin’ my name?”
Your silence answered before you could. Ben’s laugh was low, nasty, and pleased. “Course you were.” The humiliation of it made your eyes squeeze shut, but he shook your chin once, forcing your attention back to him. “Eyes open.”
You obeyed instantly, and the satisfaction on his face made you ache harder. “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me how you do it.” Your heart pounded so hard you could feel it between your thighs. “I sit on it,” you whispered, cheeks burning. “Slow at first.”
Ben’s gaze dropped to your pussy like he could already see it happening. “Then?” “Then I move faster,” you breathed, the confession pulling heat through your whole body.
“I ride it until I can’t keep quiet.” Ben’s jaw tightened again, hunger turning the line of his mouth cruel. “And you say my name while you’re fuckin’ yourself on it?”
“Yes,” you whispered, and the word came out like surrender. Ben’s breath left him in a rough exhale. His hand fell from your chin, but only so he could brace it against the counter beside you, caging you in without touching anywhere else yet.
You could smell him now, smoke and whiskey and something masculine enough to make your head swim. “Filthy girl,” he said, and the insult landed like praise. Your pussy pulsed openly, wetness slicking between your folds while the shaving cream melted farther down your thigh.
Ben’s eyes tracked everything, taking in the swollen shape of you, the soft hair framing your pussy, the shine of slick gathering where your body had given you away. “You were gonna shave this,” he said, almost offended again.
“This pretty little mess.” Your breath hitched as his knuckles brushed the inside of your knee, not quite touching where you needed him. “Don’t,” he said again, rougher this time. “I like it like this.” Your thighs trembled apart another inch. Ben saw it and smiled. “Good girl.”
The praise made you nearly dizzy. It was worse because it came from him, from Ben, from the man you’d imagined being cruel enough to make you cry and pleased enough to kiss the tears afterward. He crouched slowly in front of you now, still too close, still not touching your pussy, his eyes level with what he had walked in on.
His cock was so hard it looked painful, straining against denim while he balanced one forearm on his knee. “Spread your legs,” he said. You hesitated for half a second, not because you didn’t want to, but because the embarrassment was almost too much to survive. His eyes flicked back up to yours.
“Don’t make me ask twice.” Your knees parted wider, slow and shaky, exposing yourself fully beneath his gaze. Ben inhaled through his nose, controlled but heavy. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Look at you.” Your pussy clenched around nothing as he stared, swollen and slick and framed by the hair he’d just ordered you not to remove. He noticed every bit of it. “Bet your toy doesn’t look at you like this.”
“No,” you breathed before you could stop yourself. Ben’s smile sharpened. “No, what?” Your stomach twisted because you knew what he wanted. “No, Ben.”
His eyes flashed at the sound of his name from your mouth in that tone, breathy and obedient and already ruined. “There she is,” he said. “That’s the voice you use when you’re ridin’ that dildo thinkin’ about me, isn’t it?”
Your hands gripped the edge of the toilet seat, and you nodded faintly. “Say it.” “Yes,” you whispered. “I think about you when I ride it.” Ben’s cock jerked again, and this time he didn’t even try to hide the way he adjusted himself roughly through his jeans.
“You think about me fillin’ you up instead?” he asked, mean and direct. Your body answered with a visible shiver. His gaze dropped, and his voice went darker. “Dirty little thing.”
The bathroom felt unbearably hot now, the mirror faintly fogged from the shower you’d taken before deciding to shave. You were still exposed under the ugly overhead light, one leg braced awkwardly near the tub, shaving cream drying tacky on your thigh.
Ben looked at you like none of it mattered, like the mess only made him want you more. His eyes were hungry, but not gentle. There was nothing soft in the way he studied you, nothing hesitant in the way his attention dragged over your pussy and made you feel owned before he ever laid a hand there.
“You want me to leave?” he asked suddenly. Your pulse jumped. He wasn’t asking because he wanted to leave. He was asking because he wanted to hear you choose the opposite. You stared at him, lips parted, face flushed so hot it hurt. “No,” you whispered. Ben’s smile turned wicked. “That’s what I thought.”
He stood again slowly, towering over you in the little bathroom until your breathing turned shallow. One big hand came to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair just enough to pull your head back and force your eyes up to his.
The grip wasn’t gentle, and the shock of it made your pussy clench hard. Ben’s gaze narrowed. “You like being handled too,” he said. It wasn’t a question. You made a small sound, something between a whimper and a confession, and his mouth twisted with approval.
“All this time walkin’ around this house actin’ sweet,” he muttered. “Meanwhile you’re upstairs bouncin’ on a toy moanin’ my name.” Your face burned again, but his hand in your hair kept you from ducking away.
“Does your dad know what a filthy mouth you’ve got when nobody’s listenin’?” You shook your head quickly. Ben leaned down until his lips hovered close to your ear. “Good. Because that’s mine now.”
The words punched through you, sharp and wrong and so hot you nearly whimpered out loud. Ben pulled back just enough to look at your face, and whatever he saw there made his expression go even darker. “You want mean?” he asked quietly. “You want me not to hold back?”
Your body trembled under the question, and for once you didn’t try to pretend otherwise. “Yes,” you whispered. His grip in your hair tightened. “Then quit pretendin’ you’re embarrassed.” You nodded, but he clicked his tongue, unimpressed. “Words.”
“I want you mean,” you breathed. “I want you to not hold back.” Ben’s eyes dropped to your mouth, then to your open thighs, then back up again. Your lips trembled before the last word slipped out soft and needy.
“Daddy.” Ben went completely still for half a second, and then his smile turned downright cruel. “Careful, sweetheart,” he said, voice rough with lust. “Daddy’s real good at givin’ spoiled girls exactly what they ask for.”
Ben’s hand stayed buried in your hair for another second, keeping your head tipped back while he looked down at you like he was deciding exactly how much trouble you’d earned. “Daddy,” he repeated, voice low and rough, the word sounding filthy in his mouth, like it had dragged every last decent thought out of the room with it.
His eyes dropped again between your thighs, and his expression hardened the second he saw the razor still sitting on the counter beside you. “All that pretty hair,” he muttered, almost disgusted, “and you were gonna scrape it off like it didn’t belong there.”
His hand left your hair only so he could grip your thigh and spread you open wider, rough enough to make your breath jump. You whimpered immediately, fingers tightening against the edge of the toilet seat while your pussy clenched under his stare. Ben saw it and gave a short, mean laugh. “Look at that. She knows she did somethin’ wrong.”
Before you could answer, his palm came down sharply against your pussy.
The sound cracked through the bathroom, wet and obscene, and your whole body jerked from the sting. Pleasure burst hot and sudden beneath the pain, your thighs trying to snap shut before Ben caught one and shoved it open again.
“Uh-uh,” he said, voice hard. “You don’t get to hide now.” Your mouth fell open around a shaky moan, face burning because the slap should’ve shocked you more than it turned you on. Ben’s eyes darkened at the sound, and the front of his jeans strained harder as he stared down at you.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, palming himself roughly through the denim with one hand while the other kept your legs spread. “Knew you were a dirty little thing, but this?” His palm landed against your pussy again, hard enough to make your hips buck off the seat. “This is fuckin’ pathetic.”
“Ben,” you moaned, the name slipping out before you could stop it.
His face changed immediately.
Not anger, exactly, but something meaner and more possessive, like you’d disappointed him on purpose just to see what he’d do about it. “What’d you call me?” he asked softly. Your breath hitched, eyes wide, thighs trembling around the ache he’d slapped into you.
“Ben,” you whispered again, weaker this time, and the second it left your mouth, his hand cracked sharply across your face. Not enough to hurt badly, not enough to scare you, but enough to turn your head and leave your cheek stinging hot beneath the bathroom light.
The shock punched a broken sound out of you, but it wasn’t fear. It was a moan, loud and helpless, your pussy clenching so hard that Ben saw it happen. His jaw tightened like the sight had nearly ruined him. “Try again,” he said.
“Daddy,” you whimpered instantly.
Ben’s hand flexed against his jeans, rubbing the hard shape of his cock through the fabric while his mouth twisted into a cruel little smile. “There she is.” Your cheek burned where he’d slapped you, heat blooming under your skin while your whole body seemed to pulse with the humiliation of how badly you’d liked it.
He watched your face for a beat, making sure you were still with him, still wanting it, and the way your thighs stayed spread for him answered before your mouth could.
“You’re gonna learn real quick,” he said, voice dropping into that rough, old-fashioned arrogance that made your stomach twist, “that when Daddy tells you to keep somethin’ pretty, you don’t go reachin’ for a damn razor.”
His fingers slid down between your thighs then, not gentle, not giving you softness after the sting. He pinched your clit between two fingers, sharp and sudden, and your body jolted so hard your heel scraped against the bathtub. “Oh my god,” you gasped, grabbing at his wrist even though you didn’t pull him away.
Ben clicked his tongue, clearly unimpressed by the way you were falling apart already. “No, no. Don’t grab at me like you’re not spread open beggin’ for worse.” His fingers pinched again, controlled and cruel, enough to make your hips twitch up into his hand while your eyes watered from the intensity.
He palmed himself harder through his jeans as he watched you, breath coming heavier now, his own restraint fraying in the sharp line of his jaw. “Look at you,” he said, dragging his gaze over your pussy, swollen and wet and framed by the hair he’d decided belonged there. “Gettin’ all messy because I punished this pretty cunt for misbehavin’.”
Your face went hotter, but you couldn’t stop the needy little sounds spilling from you every time his fingers pressed and released. He noticed each one. He fed off them. “That’s it,” he muttered. “Cry about it a little. Makes you prettier.”
“Daddy,” you moaned again, louder this time, the word shaking out of you like a confession.
Ben’s expression went hungry.
He leaned closer, broad body crowding yours until all you could smell was smoke, whiskey, and him. His thumb brushed over your stinging cheek with a mockery of tenderness, almost sweet if his other hand wasn’t still between your thighs, keeping you trembling and exposed.
“Now you remember,” he murmured. “Had to slap some manners into you, huh?” Your lashes fluttered, and you nodded before you could stop yourself. That made him groan under his breath, rough and pleased, his hand rubbing over his cock through his jeans with less patience now.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, voice thick with lust. “You’re gonna be a real problem for me.” Then his eyes dropped once more to your pussy, and his mouth curved into something wicked. “But first, we’re gonna make damn sure you don’t forget who told you not to shave.”
Ben’s smile stayed cruel for one more second before he finally stood to his full height, towering over you in the cramped bathroom like he owned the damn place. His hand dropped from your hair, but the loss of contact didn’t make you feel free. If anything, it made you feel more exposed because his eyes kept you pinned harder than his grip ever could.
The bathroom door was still unlocked behind him, not even fully latched right because he’d shoved it closed in a hurry. Anyone in the house could’ve walked past and heard the low scrape of his breathing, the tiny desperate sounds you kept failing to swallow, or the sharp metallic clink when Ben touched his belt.
He didn’t care. Not even a little. He glanced toward the door once, almost lazily, then back at you like the risk only made him meaner. “Ain’t gonna save you by lookin’ at it,” he said, voice rough and smug. “Door’s right there, sweetheart.”
Your thighs trembled around the ache still pulsing between them. Ben’s hand moved to the buckle at his waist, and he looked down at you with that old-fashioned arrogance that made your stomach twist. “Now be useful and undo it.”
Your mouth went dry as you stared at him, sitting there with your pussy still exposed and your cheek still warm from his hand. Ben didn’t move closer at first, just waited with his head tilted slightly, like patience was a punishment of its own.
The leather belt sat heavy around his waist, dark and worn, the buckle catching the harsh bathroom light. You reached for it with shaky fingers, and his eyes dropped to your hands immediately. “Look at you,” he muttered, almost amused. “Shakin’ already.”
“I’m not,” you whispered, but the lie sounded pathetic even to you. Ben gave a low laugh that made your pussy clench again. “Sure you aren’t.” Your fingertips brushed the front of his jeans, and you felt him hard beneath the denim, thick and straining, hot even through the fabric.
He hissed softly through his teeth when you touched him, jaw tightening like he hated giving you the satisfaction. “Careful,” he said. “You wanted Daddy mean, don’t go actin’ delicate now.”
You swallowed hard and worked the belt open, the metal buckle clicking loudly in the quiet bathroom. The sound made your pulse jump because it felt too real, too close, too far past fantasy to pretend you hadn’t wanted this exact moment. Ben watched you unthread the leather with dark, greedy eyes, his chest rising slower now like he was forcing himself not to rush.
The belt slipped loose in your hands, heavy and warm from his body, and he let it hang there for a second just to watch you stare. “Jeans,” he ordered. Your fingers moved to the button, clumsy from nerves, and he clicked his tongue in irritation.
“Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you ride a damn toy moanin’ my name but can’t work a zipper?” Heat flooded your face, but the shame only made your body react harder. You popped the button open, then dragged the zipper down slowly.
Ben’s cock strained immediately against the fabric beneath, the shape of him obscene and impossible to ignore. “That’s it,” he said, voice dipping. “There’s the smart girl.”
He shoved his jeans down just enough to free himself, and the sight of him made every thought in your head scatter. Ben was thick, heavy, and flushed dark at the head, the skin pulled tight and hot from how long he’d been hard watching you.
He wasn’t neat or pretty in some soft way. He looked obscene, masculine, and demanding, the kind of cock that made your stomach dip before you even touched it. A vein ran along the underside, standing out more when his hand wrapped around the base and stroked once for his own relief.
Pre-cum already glistened at the tip, gathering slowly before slipping down the swollen head. Your lips parted before you could stop yourself. Ben saw it and smiled like he’d caught you stealing. “Yeah,” he murmured.
“That’s what I thought.” He tapped the head of his cock against your lower lip, smearing the first wet streak across your mouth. “Been thinkin’ about this too, haven’t you?” You nodded before pride could stop you. “Say it.”
“I’ve thought about it,” you whispered, voice shaking so badly it barely sounded like you. Ben’s hand moved to your jaw, thumb pressing into one side while his fingers held the other. “About what?” he asked, because of course he wanted to make you say it. Your eyes flicked down to his cock, then back up to his face.
“About your cock,” you breathed. Ben groaned under his breath, a low, filthy sound that made his grip tighten. “Good girl.” The praise hit you hard enough to make your thighs squeeze together. His gaze dropped and caught the movement, and his mouth curled with satisfaction.
“Still tryin’ to rub that needy little cunt together?” he asked. “Greedy thing.” You whimpered, and he dragged the wet tip of his cock across your cheek before you could answer. “Mouth open.”
You obeyed instantly, lips parting around a shaky breath. Ben didn’t let you take him yet. Instead, he dragged his cock slowly across your face, smearing pre-cum over your lips, your cheek, and the corner of your mouth in a hot slick line.
The humiliation of it made your eyes flutter, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. You wanted him too badly, wanted the weight of him, the taste of him, the proof that he’d stopped pretending he didn’t want you back.
Ben watched your face the whole time, his expression cruel and fascinated, like he wanted to memorize exactly how ruined you looked before he even got inside your mouth.
“Look at that,” he muttered. “Pretty face made a mess already.” He rubbed the head of his cock against your lower lip again, smearing more pre-cum there until your mouth felt wet and swollen. “Tongue out,” he said. You stuck your tongue out immediately, and his eyes darkened. “Fuckin’ hell.”
Ben leaned over you, keeping one hand on his cock while the other gripped the counter beside your head. For a second, you thought he was just going to push inside your mouth. Then he spat directly onto your tongue. The wet heat of it landed heavy and humiliating, and your whole body shivered violently.
Ben smiled like the reaction pleased him. “Don’t swallow,” he said. Your tongue stayed out, trembling slightly, the spit shining there beneath the ugly bathroom light. He dragged the tip of his cock through it slowly, smearing his spit and pre-cum together over your tongue in a slick, filthy glide.
Your eyes watered from how badly you wanted him to stop teasing and just use your mouth already. Ben saw the desperation immediately. “Christ,” he said, voice rougher now. “You really are made for this.” He rubbed himself across your tongue again, hips pushing forward just enough to make your throat tighten in anticipation. “Daddy’s gonna ruin that mouth.”
The first push inside was slow enough to make you feel every inch. Ben’s cock stretched your lips wide, heavy on your tongue, the taste of pre-cum, spit, and warm skin filling your mouth all at once. Your hands went to his thighs automatically, gripping the denim bunched low around them for balance. He hissed sharply when your lips sealed around him.
“There you go,” he murmured, voice already darker. “Knew you’d look good with a mouthful of cock.” You made a soft sound around him, and the vibration dragged a rough groan from his chest. His fingers threaded into your hair, not gently, not sweetly, but with control that made your scalp sting in the best way.
“Don’t use teeth,” he warned. “Unless you want me to get real mean.” Your eyes flicked up to his. He smiled down at you. “That’s what I thought.”
You tried to start slow, lips sliding carefully along his length while your tongue pressed against the underside. Ben let you for maybe three strokes. Then his grip tightened in your hair, and he pulled you forward until the head of his cock pushed deeper against your tongue. “No,” he said flatly. “Not like that.”
Your breath stuttered through your nose as he held you there, the weight of him filling your mouth more completely now. “You don’t get to tease after what you almost did to that pretty bush.” He dragged you back slowly by the hair, then pushed in again, deeper this time.
Your throat fluttered around him, and his jaw tightened hard. “Fuck,” he groaned. “That’s better.” He looked down at you with blown pupils and a cruel little twist to his mouth. “Open up.”
You forced your jaw looser, eyes watering as Ben pushed farther in. He watched every tiny reaction, every blink, every shaky inhale through your nose, every way your hands tightened on his thighs. His cock was thick enough that your lips burned around him, and the stretch made your head feel light. “That’s it,” he said, voice rough with satisfaction. “Take it.”
He pulled out just enough for air to rush into your lungs, then pushed back in before you could recover fully. The rhythm made your body jolt, and your pussy pulsed wetly between your thighs. You were painfully aware of it, of how exposed you still were, of the soft hair Ben had forbidden you to shave framing the slick mess your body had become.
He was aware too. His eyes dropped once toward your open thighs, and he actually groaned at the sight. “Still drippin’,” he muttered. “All because Daddy’s using your mouth.”
The words made you moan around him, and Ben’s grip in your hair went brutal for half a second. “Yeah?” he asked, breath roughening. “You like hearin’ that?” You nodded as best you could with his cock in your mouth, and he gave a short, nasty laugh. “Course you do.”
He started moving his hips then, shallow at first, fucking into your mouth with controlled little thrusts that made your eyes water more with each one. The sound was obscene, wet and muffled and trapped in the small bathroom. Your cheeks hollowed instinctively, and Ben cursed beneath his breath.
“Goddamn, sweetheart.” His free hand came down to your cheek, thumb smearing the pre-cum already drying there. “Look at you.” He pushed deeper suddenly, making you gag softly around him. “That’s it. Let me hear it.”
The gag made him throb against your tongue. You felt it and whimpered, humiliation and arousal twisting together so tightly you couldn’t separate them anymore. Ben’s breath came heavier, his stomach tightening beneath his shirt each time your throat tried to take him. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t slow out of sweetness. He just watched you with cruel hunger, fingers locked in your hair while he used the grip to set the pace.
“You wanted this,” he said, voice low and harsh. “Don’t forget that.” Your nails dug into his thighs, and he looked pleased by the desperation. “Been upstairs ridin’ that toy thinkin’ about me, right?” He thrust again, rougher this time, making your throat flutter.
“Now you’ve got the real thing, and you’re still actin’ surprised.” A tear slipped down your cheek. Ben wiped it with his thumb, then smeared it into the pre-cum across your skin. “Pretty when you cry.”
Your body went hot and weak at that, thighs squeezing uselessly around the ache between them. Ben noticed the motion and laughed again, cruel and breathless. “Poor thing,” he said, though there was no pity in it. “Mouth full and still worried about your pussy.”
He pulled out until only the tip rested against your tongue, letting you breathe for one shaky second. You gasped softly, lips wet and swollen, chin messy. Ben looked at your mouth like it belonged to him now. “Say it,” he ordered. You blinked up at him, dazed.
“Say whose cock you wanted when you were ridin’ that little toy.” Your voice came out broken and wet. “Yours.” His eyes narrowed. “Try again.”
“Daddy’s,” you whispered.
Ben’s whole expression changed.
The word hit him like a match to gasoline, and his cock jerked hard in his own hand before he pushed back into your mouth. “There you go,” he groaned. “Now you’re learnin’.” He fucked your mouth harder after that, no longer pretending he was patient. His hips snapped forward in short, rough strokes, each one forcing your lips wider and your throat tighter around him.
Your hands gripped his thighs as tears gathered faster now, not from fear, but from the overwhelming fullness and the ruthless pace. Ben watched them spill with obvious satisfaction, his mouth parted, his breathing rough and uneven.
“Take it,” he rasped. “That’s a good girl.” You moaned again, and the sound came out muffled around his cock. “Fuck, that mouth.”
The unlocked door sat behind him like a dare the whole time. You could see it in brief, watery flashes whenever your eyes drifted past his body, the simple twist lock untouched, the hall beyond hidden but not distant enough. Ben didn’t even glance back. If anything, he angled himself wider in front of you, broad shoulders blocking most of the room while his hips kept moving.
“You nervous someone’ll hear?” he asked, voice thick with amusement. Your eyes widened around him, and that was answer enough. “Too bad.” He pushed deeper, holding you there long enough for your throat to tighten around him.
“Should’ve thought about that before callin’ me Daddy with your cunt out.” The shame made you whimper, and Ben’s cock pulsed heavily against your tongue. “There she is,” he muttered. “Loves being scared of gettin’ caught.”
He pulled out fully for a second, letting his cock drag wetly over your lips. You coughed once, soft and breathless, saliva clinging between your mouth and the flushed head of him before breaking. Ben gripped his cock at the base and slapped the heavy length lightly against your cheek. “Messy,” he said. “But you can do better.”
Your lips trembled as you looked up at him. “Please,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. His brows lifted. “Please what?” Your face burned. “Please use my mouth.”
Ben stared at you for half a second, then laughed in a way that made your stomach fold in on itself. “Now that’s a polite little slut.” He tapped the tip against your tongue. “Open.”
You opened for him again, and he slid in with less resistance because your mouth was already wet and stretched from him. This time he didn’t bother building slowly. He buried one hand in your hair and braced the other against the wall beside the mirror, hips driving forward until your throat tightened around him.
The bathroom mirror caught the angle of him above you, jeans shoved low, shirt rumpled, jaw clenched, eyes dark with lust. He looked like he’d walked straight out of every forbidden thought you’d ever had and become worse in person.
Meaner. Larger. More shameless. Your own reflection flashed in the corner of the mirror too, knees parted, face messy, mouth full, eyes wet. Ben saw you notice and grinned. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “Look at yourself.”
You did, because his hand in your hair gave you no choice. Your face was smeared with pre-cum, spit, and tears, lips stretched around his cock while your mascara had started to blur at the edges of your lashes. Your body looked wrecked and exposed, pussy still bare under the light, the soft hair between your thighs damp with slick.
The sight made you moan around him without meaning to. Ben groaned immediately, hips stuttering once before he corrected himself. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Don’t do that unless you want me to finish early.” He pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping, and wrapped his hand around himself at the base.
His cock was slick from your mouth now, shining wet, the head darker and more swollen than before. Pre-cum leaked again, thick and clear, slipping from the slit despite the way he held himself back. “Not in your mouth,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Not yet.”
You looked up at him, dazed and needy, throat aching and lips parted. Ben saw the disappointment flicker across your face and laughed under his breath. “Don’t pout,” he said. “You haven’t earned that.” His thumb smeared over your bottom lip, dragging saliva across your mouth before pushing lightly against your tongue.
You sucked it without thinking, and his jaw clenched so hard you saw the muscle jump. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re trouble.” He stepped closer again, cock heavy in his hand, still hard and slick and flushed from how close he’d nearly gotten. “Hands behind your back.”
You obeyed immediately, folding your hands behind yourself while still seated and exposed. Ben’s eyes dragged over you, pleased and mean. “Good. Now you’re gonna sit there and let Daddy decide what he does with you next.”
He rubbed the head of his cock over your lips again, not letting you take him, just painting your mouth with more slick while you fought to stay still. “This is what happens when you try to ruin somethin’ I like,” he said, voice low and dangerous.
“I make a mess of you instead.” Your pussy throbbed visibly beneath his gaze, and Ben’s mouth twisted. “Still wet,” he murmured. “That poor little cunt’s got no shame at all.” You whimpered, shoulders trembling with the effort not to reach for him again.
He dragged the underside of his cock across your cheek, then down over your chin, smearing your own spit back across your skin. “Gonna remember this every time you see that razor, aren’t you?” You nodded quickly, eyes wide and glossy. “Yes, Daddy.” Ben’s smile sharpened. “Damn right.”
He pushed back into your mouth one last time, slower than before but somehow even more possessive. Your lips closed around him, and he gave a deep groan that vibrated through the quiet room. He didn’t thrust immediately.
He just held himself there, heavy on your tongue, making you feel the weight and heat of him while your eyes stayed fixed on his face. “See?” he murmured. “This is useful.” Your throat worked around him, and his cock twitched hard. He hissed and pulled back before he could lose control.
“Fuck.” His hand tightened around himself again, stopping the orgasm that had clearly started to build too fast. He looked angry about wanting you this much, which only made him look hungrier.
“Not yet,” he said, voice wrecked but firm. “Daddy’s not done teachin’ you a lesson.” You gasped softly when he withdrew fully, mouth empty and aching. Ben looked down at you, cock still hard in his fist, and smiled like the night had only just started.
You sat there exactly how Ben had told you to, hands tucked behind your back, shoulders pulled slightly open because you weren’t allowed to hide from him anymore. Your breathing came back in uneven little pulls while your chest rose and fell too quickly, tits bouncing faintly with every shaky inhale as the bathroom light made every inch of you feel exposed.
Your mouth was still swollen and wet from him, lips parted as you tried to steady yourself, but Ben’s eyes weren’t on your face anymore. They had dropped lower, dragging over your bare chest, your trembling thighs, and the slick mess between your legs with the kind of shameless hunger that made your pussy clench again.
He stood over you with his jeans still open, cock hard and flushed in his hand, the head wet from your mouth and still leaking despite how tightly he held himself back.
The bathroom door stayed unlocked behind him, quiet and dangerous, but Ben didn’t even glance at it. He looked like he wanted the risk. He looked like he wanted you to remember every second.
“Hands stay there,” he said, voice rough and mean, his accent thicker now that he was worked up. “You move ’em, I stop.”
Your thighs twitched at that, and his mouth curled like he’d felt it somehow. “Course that gets your attention,” he muttered, stepping closer until his knees nearly brushed yours. “Mouth full of cock, cunt all wet, still sittin’ there like you’re the one bein’ tortured.” He dragged his gaze over your pussy again, slow and deliberate, taking in the soft bush he’d already decided belonged exactly where it was.
“Look at this,” he said, almost under his breath, like he was still pissed at you for nearly shaving it. “Pretty little thing, all soaked and puffy, and you were gonna take a razor to it.” Your face burned, but you didn’t close your legs. You couldn’t.
Ben dropped slowly to one knee in front of you, then the other, big hands landing on your thighs with a grip that made your breath hitch. “Since you wanted to be stupid,” he said, spreading you open wider, “Daddy’s gonna remind this pussy why it doesn’t need fixin’.”
The first rough pull at your bush made you gasp sharply. Ben’s fingers tangled in the soft hair between your thighs, tugging just enough to make your hips jerk and your clit throb. “There,” he said, voice low with satisfaction. “See? Personality.”
Your pussy looked wrecked beneath his stare, swollen from arousal, glossy with slick, the lips flushed darker and parted around the wet ache he’d worked you into without even properly touching you yet. The hair framed you messily, damp near the center from how wet you’d gotten, and Ben looked at it like it was something he wanted to ruin and worship at the same time.
His thumb dragged through your folds once, slow and rude, spreading your slick before he pressed the pad of it against your clit. You whimpered, shoulders trembling as you fought to keep your hands behind your back. Ben watched your face with cruel amusement. “Don’t start cryin’ yet,” he said. “Haven’t even put my mouth on you.”
Then he leaned in.
The first drag of his tongue through your pussy made your whole body jolt against the toilet seat, a broken sound spilling out of you before you could swallow it. Ben groaned into you immediately, the vibration rolling straight through your clit and making your thighs shake harder beneath his hands.
He didn’t eat you gently. There was nothing delicate about the way he opened you with his thumbs, pulled lightly at the hair to angle you how he wanted, then licked into you like he was angry at how good you tasted.
“Fuck,” he muttered against you, mouth wet and rough. “That’s why you were actin’ so dumb, huh?” His tongue pushed inside you suddenly, hot and firm, and your head tipped back against the wall with a helpless moan. “Daddy,” you gasped, already shaking. Ben’s hands tightened on your thighs. “Yeah,” he growled into your pussy. “That’s what I thought.”
He tongue fucked you with filthy, impatient strokes, pushing in and dragging out just to feel the way you clenched around him. Every time your hips lifted, he shoved you back down with one hand and tugged at your bush with the other, keeping you spread open and helpless under his mouth.
“Stay still,” he snapped, but there was a rough smile in his voice. “You wanted to be a big girl and shave this pretty cunt, didn’t you?” His tongue circled your clit before he sucked it into his mouth, and the sudden pressure ripped a loud cry out of you.
“Ben—” His hand came down hard on your thigh, not your face this time, but the warning was clear. He pulled back only enough to glare up at you. “What’d you call me?” Your chest heaved, tits bouncing with the effort of breathing. “Daddy,” you corrected quickly, voice breaking. Ben’s expression softened into something meaner. “Better.”
He went back down like he’d been starving.
His mouth sealed over your clit, sucking until your legs tried to clamp around his head, but his shoulders forced them open again. The scrape of his stubble against your inner thighs made everything sharper, rougher, dirtier, every pass of his mouth leaving you more sensitive than the last.
He kept making those low, approving sounds into you, like he couldn’t decide whether to punish you or praise himself for getting you this messy. “Look at you,” he mumbled between licks, his lips shining with you. “All wet for your dad’s best friend.”
The words made you moan so hard your hands twitched behind your back, and Ben noticed instantly. “Don’t you fuckin’ move those hands.” You froze, breath catching. He smiled against your pussy. “Good girl. Learnin’.”
You were shaking so hard now that staying upright took effort, your back pressed against the wall, knees spread wide, hands locked behind you while Ben worked you open with his mouth. His tongue pushed inside you again, deeper this time, the wet obscene sound of it filling the bathroom while his nose brushed against your clit. You moaned his title over and over, each
“Daddy” softer and more ruined than the last, and every one seemed to make him rougher. He dragged his tongue up to your clit and flicked it fast, then sucked, then pulled back just to spit on your pussy and smear it in with two fingers.
“Messy little thing,” he muttered, rubbing the spit and slick over your swollen clit before replacing his fingers with his mouth. Your body lurched forward, but he shoved you back again with a hand on your stomach.
“No. Sit there and take it.” His other hand pulled at your bush again, possessive and cruel, making you whimper from the sting and the pleasure tangled together. “This stays,” he said against you. “You hear me?”
“Yes, Daddy,” you sobbed.
The answer made him groan like it satisfied something ugly inside him. He licked you harder after that, mouth dragging over every wet, swollen inch of you while his hands held you open like he owned the view. Your orgasm started building too fast, violent and hot, gathering low in your stomach until your thighs trembled uncontrollably around his head.
“I’m close,” you gasped, voice shaking. Ben didn’t pull away. He only looked up at you from between your thighs, eyes dark and mouth slick, and the sight nearly finished you right there. “Then come,” he ordered, voice muffled against your pussy.
“Cum on Daddy’s tongue.” His tongue pushed back inside you at the same time his thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, cruel circles that made your whole body seize. You cried out, hands straining behind your back as pleasure finally snapped through you.
You came hard against his mouth, hips bucking despite his grip, thighs shaking so violently that Ben had to hold you down. He didn’t stop. He licked you through it, tongue dragging through the slick rush of your orgasm while you sobbed his name wrong once and then corrected yourself into a desperate “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy” that made him growl into you.
Your pussy clenched around his tongue, swollen and soaked, every pulse making your body jolt in sharp little waves. Ben drank it in with a filthy kind of satisfaction, sucking and licking until you were writhing away from him because it was too much. Only then did he finally pull back, lips and chin wet, breathing rough as he looked up at you.
“There,” he said, voice wrecked but still cruel. “That’s what this pussy needed.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then grabbed your thigh hard enough to make you whimper. “Not a razor.” His eyes dropped to the soft, damp hair between your legs, and his mouth twisted with smug approval. “Me.”
Ben didn’t give you time to come down properly before his hand was back in your hair, hauling you up from the toilet seat with a roughness that made your knees nearly buckle. Your body was still shaking from his mouth, thighs slick and trembling, pussy swollen and wet enough that every step felt obscene.
“Up,” he growled, like he didn’t care that you were boneless and breathless and barely able to think. His grip stayed firm at the back of your neck as he turned you toward the sink, crowding behind you with his open jeans brushing against the backs of your thighs.
The bathroom mirror caught everything immediately, your messy mouth, your flushed cheeks, your tits rising and falling too fast, and Ben behind you looking huge and mean and completely gone on you. “Look at yourself,” he said, voice low against your ear. “Look what Daddy did to you already.”
Your palms hit the counter as he bent you forward, the edge of the sink pressing hard into your hips while your legs shook beneath you. Ben didn’t let you close them, not even for a second. He shoved one thigh between yours and forced your stance wider with his own legs, spreading you open until your pussy was exposed to him in the reflection.
“There,” he muttered, one hand gripping your hip while the other dragged down your spine. “Much better.”
Your eyes flicked to the mirror and immediately tried to drop, humiliation burning through you at the sight of yourself bent over the bathroom sink with your thighs parted and your slick still shining between them. Ben caught your chin from behind and forced your head back up. “No,” he snapped. “You wanted this. Now you watch.”
Before you could answer, two of his fingers shoved into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue until your lips closed around them automatically. “That’s it,” he said, sounding disgustingly pleased. “Drool on ’em.”
Your eyes watered as he pushed them deeper, your mouth stretched around his fingers while saliva gathered fast and messy. He watched you in the mirror, jaw tight, pupils blown, his cock dragging hot and heavy against your soaked folds from behind.
The tease of it made your hips jerk back despite yourself. Ben laughed under his breath, mean and breathless. “Greedy little thing. Mouth full and still tryin’ to get fucked.”
Then he lined himself up and thrust into you hard.
The stretch stole every bit of air from your lungs. Your moan came out muffled around his fingers, broken and wet, while your hands scrambled against the sink for something to hold. Ben cursed behind you, low and rough, his grip on your hip turning brutal as your pussy clenched around him immediately.
“Fuck,” he groaned, forehead dipping briefly against your shoulder. “Tight little cunt’s been beggin’ for this all night.” He didn’t give you time to adjust for long. He pulled back halfway and snapped his hips forward again, shoving himself deep enough that your knees nearly gave out. “Look,” he ordered, fingers still pressing into your mouth. “Look how pathetic you are takin’ it.”
You forced your eyes up to the mirror, and the sight nearly ruined you. Your lips were stretched around Ben’s fingers, drool slipping down your chin, eyes glossy and blown wide while his body crowded yours from behind.
His cock disappeared into you with every rough thrust, your pussy wet enough that the sound filled the bathroom, filthy and rhythmic beneath both of your breathing. Your slick coated him instantly, creamy and clear around the base every time he drove back into you, making a messy shine where your bodies met.
Ben’s hand left your hip suddenly and came down hard across your ass, the slap echoing off the tile. You cried out around his fingers, clenching violently around him. He felt it instantly. “Oh, you liked that,” he said, voice sharpening with cruel amusement. “Course you did. Dirty little slut likes bein’ bent over and used in the bathroom.”
Your pussy tightened harder at the words, and Ben groaned like it pissed him off how good you felt. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, spanking you again, harder this time. “You’re squeezin’ me every time I call you what you are.” His fingers pressed deeper into your mouth, making you drool more, making the reflection even messier.
“That what you needed?” he asked, hips snapping into you with mean, steady force. “Needed Daddy to talk to you like some needy little whore so this pretty cunt would behave?” You whimpered around his fingers, nodding before you could stop yourself. His mouth twisted in the mirror. “Yeah. Thought so.”
Ben fucked you harder after that, like your body had given him permission to stop pretending he had any restraint left. One hand stayed in your mouth, keeping you quiet and messy, while the other alternated between gripping your hip and landing sharp, stinging slaps against your ass.
Each one made your body jolt forward against the sink, and each thrust dragged you back onto him again. “Look at that,” he rasped, eyes locked on the reflection of where your bodies met. “Taking Daddy’s cock like you were made for it.”
Your walls fluttered around him, slick and hot and clenching every time his voice dropped into that cruel, possessive tone. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, hips stuttering for half a second before he caught himself. “This pussy’s dangerous.”
You tried to say Daddy, but it came out as a wet, muffled sound around his fingers. Ben’s expression darkened at the attempt. “What was that?” he taunted, thrusting deep and holding there until you squirmed. You drooled around his fingers, eyes pleading in the mirror, body shaking from how full you felt. He pulled his fingers out just enough for you to gasp. “Say it.”
“Daddy,” you cried immediately, voice wrecked and breathless. Ben slammed back into you so hard your hands slipped against the counter. “Good girl,” he grunted. “Say it again.”
“Daddy,” you moaned, louder this time, and your pussy clenched down around him so hard he swore through his teeth.
His hand came back to your hip, fingers digging in as he chased that reaction again and again. “That’s it,” he said, voice rough and breaking at the edges now. “Keep squeezin’ me like that.”
You could feel how close he was getting, the way his thrusts turned less controlled, deeper and harsher, each one punching little broken sounds from your throat. Your own orgasm built fast, too fast, pressure tightening low in your stomach until your thighs were shaking against his.
Your cum started slicking him even more before you fully tipped over, wetness gathering thick and messy around his cock, smearing down your inner thighs, making every thrust sound wetter than the last. Ben saw it in the mirror, saw your pussy getting sloppy around him, saw the creamy ring of your arousal coating the base of him. “Don’t you look away,” he ordered. “You’re gonna watch yourself cum on Daddy’s cock.”
The command snapped something inside you. Your body seized against the sink, pussy clamping down around him as your orgasm hit hard enough to make your vision blur. “Daddy,” you sobbed, shaking violently while pleasure tore through you in hot, helpless waves.
Your cum soaked around him, slick and messy, your pussy pulsing so hard it pushed wetness down over his cock and onto your thighs with every clench. Ben groaned deep behind you, his grip turning almost painful as your orgasm dragged his out of him too.
“Fuck,” he rasped, hips driving in once, twice, then holding deep as he came with a broken, furious sound against your shoulder. You felt him spill hot inside you, thick pulses filling you while his cock twitched hard through every wave. The heat of his cum made you whimper, your overstimulated pussy clenching around him again as if trying to milk out every last drop.
Some of it pushed wetly around his cock where he stayed buried, mixing with your slick until both of you were messy and trembling in the mirror. His body pressed hard over yours, breath hot at your neck while both of you shook through it together. After a long moment, Ben laughed softly against your skin, rough and breathless. “That’s one hell of a lesson, sweetheart.”
summary: ben has gotten you high out of your mind and fucks you / cw: ben x fem reader, dead dove do not eat, fauxcest, dubcon, fear-play (ig)
a deep gravely voice woke you up from your slumber. your eyes trailed around the room. everything was spinning and bright led lights illuminated from every corner, overstimulating you. the only thing you recognized was ben's face although you saw him double. "what the fuck?" you mumbled weakly.
ben smirked down at you "awww didn't you sleep well, doll? come on, walk over to me." you tried standing up but your knees buckled underneath you.
he sneered at the sight "fuckin' pathetic bitch. can't do one simple task. c'mon crawl then." for some reason you just listened to his command and moved slowly on your hands and knees. "please help me, I don't feel good" you chocked out sobbing. your head hurt so much, it felt as though you were inside a tin can while someone stirs the inside of it with a spoon.
it was even hard for you to crawl since you kept falling down. you felt your cunt leaking like crazy to the point it ran down your thighs and you also couldn't stop drooling. "leaking everywhere like a damn faucet aren't you? disgusting fucking whore. come on keep crawling, you're almost there." you were so embarrassed. "am sorry, I don't know why I'm so wet right now."
with all the strength you could muster you dragged your body over to him but every time you got closer ben kept moving further away.
"stop doing that!" you cried out. ben's sharp voice cut your complaints off. "am not doing anything. are you hallucinating, doll? you're getting dad all concerned you know." his words started echoing in your mind and you couldn't tell if he really was speaking or if you were imagining things.
you buried your face in your hands and started to sob because of how confused and overwhelmed you were. "please help me dad." you whimpered once again.
"help with what?", he barked. "are you too fucked up in the head now that you need my help with everything?" you let out a shaky breath when you heard him walk over to you. "get on your hands and knees. I'll be easier for me to to pick you up, doll," he ordered.
with a sigh of relief you changed your position up for him. of course that sick bastard didn't help. he dipped two of fingers in you instead, your cunt swallowing them up. "fuck, look at them glide right in that needy cunt of yours." he groaned. the sensation felt so much more intense than usual "please, I can't take it right now." you pleaded. a harsh slap lands on your ass "yeah? I don't believe that. your pussy says otherwise."
before you know it, ben whipped out his cock and started aligning it with your entrance, making you panic. whatever he gave you made you so much more paranoid than usual too.
with all the courage you could muster you stood up and began running away. somehow you didn't instantly fall down but you kept bumping into walls. your mind was playing tricks on you, making it seems like the room was closing in on you. you truly couldn't tell what was real and what was a fragment of your imagination.
unfortunately getting away from him only lasted for 2 minutes before he dragged you by the hair back in the room, throwing you on the floor. "didn't expect you to be this fuckin' dumb. what a bad girl, wanting to run away from home. you're lucky I won't punish you right now."
despite his words he still slapped your face so hard that blood started trickling down your nose. you were ugly crying at this point. he dragged you towards the desk and bent you over. "cryin' won't solve anything, doll. stop seeking attention." this time he inserts his cock in your cunt and starts thrusting with so much force that it almost knocks the breath out of you.
you just took it as ben kept rutting his hips, his balls hitting your skin. your mouth hung open as drool dripped down. the worst part was that you tried moving but your body wasn't cooperating. you could just twitch here and there or slightly move your fingers but that didn't help much.
it was all too much, the bright lights we're flashing now or at least you imagined that. ben's voice echoed, every thrust felt more intense than the last and you couldn't even react to anything.
ben movements started getting more erratic meaning that he was close. "you're like a fuckin pocket-pussy, right now doll. just taking my cock without any complaints like a good girl." with a final thrust he came inside you, filling you up with his warm cum.
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