He shouts it across the clearing, a lopsided grin across his face. The shot was perfect, and he knows it- he always thinks your shots are perfect. He likes knowing you have his back, that he can trust you when things get tough. He wants you to know how much he appreciates that.
"Good girl."
His voice is quiet, pressed against the shell of your ear, fingers curling into you as another desperate gasp falls from your lips. "Doin' so good for me- that's it sweetheart, just a little bit more."
"Can't- De- too much-" you whine. You're still giddy with the last orgasm, body overstimulated, head swimming.
"You can- just keep going-"
"Stop moving- let me take care of you."
He says it firm, a short breath pushed out his nose. He's trying to sound patient, but with your blood still seeping out of the cut in your leg, he knows he needs to get you bandaged up quick.
You'd do the same to him, frustrated as you both try to sort through each others injuries. But that frustration never lasts. It always ends with him kissing your forehead, an affirmation that he's not actually angry- and that you're okay.
"Stop moving, baby, I'm takin' care of you."
It's not like you have a choice- wrists bound to the headboard, stretching your arms above your head as you lay against the mattress. Your hips are still lifting off the bed, thighs twitching as Dean dives his head back between them.
His tongue presses against your clit again- you tug at your restraints, another loud moan pushed out of you. You feel him grin, looking back up, "Thought I told y' to stay still."
"You want me to teach you?"
He raises an eyebrow, a genuine question. He likes being able to show you things, likes being useful. It's difficult with you- when you already know so much, when you have hunters instincts and skills he sometimes feels envious of. He secretly relishes those small moments where he can actually teach you something new.
You nod, looking down at the gun in his hand, the object of question in the first place- "Yeah- yeah show me how you did that-"
"You need me to teach you a lesson?"
You've been teasing him all day- the makeout in the police station that left his cock swollen in his pants, the way you flirted with the witness while keeping your glances on Dean the whole time, your outrageously short skirt. You knew he was gonna get you back for it- but maybe that's part of the fun.
He's got you pulled over his lap, that same skirt bunched up to your hips, his handprint already etched red against your skin.
"This what you've been asking for all fuckin' day?"
"Dean-" you whine, cheek pressed against the sheets.
"Asked you a question, sweetheart- you better start answering-"
"You just need to relax."
He's got the bath running, your candles are lit in the corner. Your body's still aching from the hunt, your mind more exhausted than you realized. He helps you pull your T-shirt off over your head, you manage to get your own pants down.
"You want some ice-cream? I've got some in the freezer- get in the bath and I'll grab you a bowl."
"Relax, darling."
His body envelops you, touching every part- lips on your neck, one hand on your chest, the other wrapped around your hip. He's going slow- torturously slow. He knows it's making you frustrated, whiny and bratty as you try to lift your hips for friction.
But he likes you like this- that's why he's gonna keep you on the edge, smiling against your body like he's just trying to be sweet. "You gotta take it easy, sweetheart, let me take my time."
"Jesus- that tastes good."
Dean doesn't trust Internet reviews- why should he believe strangers online, who gives a shit about their opinions?
Which is why you've started working strategically. You've got a list of the top burger spots in each state- you leave little hints during cases, "maybe we should head north after this, see if there's any more leads?", "let's come off the highway, I wanna go the scenic route.", "hey I'm getting hungry, why don't we stop here?".
This time it's paid off, Dean thinks he's found a hidden gem- the grease from the bacon coats his lips, fries scattered across the plate. He grins at you, still chewing the bite- "How'd you always find such good places?"
"Jesus- you taste good."
He looks up at you from between your thighs, eyes glosses with admiration, trying to hold himself back from rutting against the mattress like a fuckin' dog in heat.
He always gets like this when he goes down on you- you've actually had to stop him during cases coz you know it makes him so dumb he'll be useless for the next 3 hours. His tongue circles your clit again, fingers pushed into you to the hilt. He's gonna make you cum at least 4 more times before he even thinks about getting his cock inside you.
"So good- fuck sweetheart- fuck-"
///
A/N: me? Hopping on a trend while it's actually still a trend? Whaaaat
if you don't feel like tagging, at least clarify it's dddne content, although you should always tag
hate sex does not mean lack of consent, add a noncon or dubcon tag if needed. any other form of abuse should also be tagged
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use the reader insert tag properly: if you describe any non-universal features, say so (i.e. blue eyed!reader, black!reader, etc.). if you do not want to assign a gender to the reader but want to describe their anatomy, it's okay to write amab!reade, afab!reader, intersex!reader. do not state it's a reader insert if it's an oc written in 1st or 2nd pov, that's still about the oc
for readers: it's okay if a creator you like or something you see something on your fyp that seems interesting to you has a tag that doesn't suit you. nothing is written specifically for you, and even requests don't magically know what you look like/prefer. don't be whiny about it, just move on or reread something you already liked
if your fic is a slowburn and only the ending is dddne, still mark those tags at the beginning. it doesn't matter if you think it will 'ruin the surprise', people should still know what exactly they are reading
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and also remember that just because someone reposts something, it doesn't mean they are willing to write it. lots of people who repost what their friends/moots write as support, not necessarily because they want similar requests or are into those specific kinks. keep this in mind especially with sfw mdni accounts, vanilla accounts that repost dddne, and dddne accounts that repost sfw/vanilla sex
Me opening the Soldier Boy x reader tag hoping to find a decent and normal fic only to come across Fauxcest and non-con/dub-con elements in most fic. I JUST WANT TO READ NORMAL SOLDIER BOY FICS. I KNOW DESPITE HIM AS PERSON, HE ASKS FOR CONSENT.
Summary: A period from hell, shameless flirting and Soldier Boy being the absolute worst person to take care of you. Until he accidentally gets a little softer than either of you expected.
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader
Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, blood
Word Count: 3750
DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes.
You woke up to the faint smell of weed and whiskey and that damn cologne of his that clung to the sheets like a bad habit. The sheets, of course, were his, scratchy, should’ve been burned sometime after 1984, but you weren’t exactly in the position to complain. Especially not when Soldier Boy was draped across you like a smug, snoring furnace.
You shifted, groaning softly. Cramps twisted in your stomach like a knife, and the ache in your lower back reminded you of what the day was about to be: hell. Bloody, hormonal hell.
And of course, as if summoned by the suffering itself, Ben cracked an eye open.
“Shit”, he muttered, voice still thick from sleep. “You makin’ that noise all night, sweetheart, or just savin’ it for when I’m tryin’ to sleep?”.
You rolled your eyes, nudging him off your hip. “Sorry I’m not silent and dead like your exes”.
He grinned a wicked, shit-eating grin that always spelled trouble.
“Oh, so you do admit it… You’re bleedin’, huh?”, he asked, sitting up and raking a hand through his mess of hair. “Could smell it last night. Thought maybe you’d just killed someone in my bed. Would’ve been hot”.
You grabbed a pillow and lobbed it at him.
“Asshole”.
“Guilty”, he said proudly, catching it mid-air and tossing it aside. “You know, back in the ‘80s, girls didn’t get all weepy on their periods. They just popped a Quaalude and fucking danced it off”.
“Yeah, and back in the ‘80s you still thought Russia was winning the war”, you muttered, curling into a ball. That got a bark of laughter from him.
“Ah fuck, I love it when you’re a little shit”, he said, reaching over and yanking the blanket off you. “Look at you. All curled up, cranky, hormonal. Like a puppy someone kicked”.
You glared at him. “Keep talking and I’ll kick you”.
“Ooh. Fiery. You sure you don’t wanna cry about it first?”, he teased, leaning in just close enough that his breath warmed your cheek. “Come on, doll. Where’s the part where you get all misty-eyed and ask me to rub your back while you sob over some video on your phone?”.
You shoved him again, and he caught your wrist mid-push, his grip firm but warm. Something in his expression softened for a second, just a flicker.
“You hurting?”, he asked, quieter this time.
You hesitated.
“…Yeah. A little”.
He let your hand go and flopped back onto the bed, throwing an arm behind his head.
“Well, shit. Guess I gotta be nice now”, he muttered. “Go ahead. Snuggle up, break my ribs with your heat pad, cry about cats or whatever”.
You stared at him.
“You done mocking me?”.
“Sweetheart”, he smirked, “mocking you is my cardio. You’re like a little walking PSA for why women shouldn’t be in combat. All moody, bleeding, curled up like a busted-up MRE. Cute, but useless”.
You shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. “Wow. Misogyny before breakfast. How very on brand”.
“Please”, he scoffed. “It’s not misogyny if it’s true. Hell, if you were in Payback back in the day, I’d have had to carry you around like a baby in one of those pussy-like kangaroo pouches”.
You opened your mouth to snap back, but before you could, he reached over and hooked a hand under your thigh, yanking you toward him so you were practically sprawled across his lap.
“Hey!”, you protested.
“What? I’m bein’ sweet”, he said, feigning innocence while his thumb rubbed slow, lazy circles just above your knee. “Figure I’ll keep you close before you waddle off and start nesting or whatever the hell it is you ladies do on your time of the month”.
You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but his hand was firm on your thigh, rough palm sliding higher with lazy confidence.
“Don’t start”, you warned, glaring at him. “Not while I’m like this”.
“Like what?”, he asked as his fingers ghosted just below the hem of your sleep shorts. “Warm? Whiny? Bleedin’ like you got knifed in a bar fight?”.
You shot him a warning look. “Ben…”.
That grin. That filthy, knowing grin that had no business looking good at 7 a.m.
“What? I’m just sayin’, sweetheart — I’ve seen worse. Hell, I’ve been worse”. He leaned in, his voice dropping low against your ear. "Honey, I’ve had brains and guts on me. Little uterus juice ain’t exactly my breaking point".
You groaned, pressing a hand to your face. “That’s disgusting”.
He laughed. “I’ve had my dick shot half to hell and still fucked after. Little period gore’s not exactly a mood killer".
“Ben, no”.
“Ben, yes”, he smirked, dragging your leg higher over his thigh until your core was pressed to the thick line of muscle. “Come on. You’re soft, warm, cranky — it’s kinda hot”.
You stared at him like he’d lost his damn mind. “It’s not hot. It’s gross. I’m literally bleeding. It’s not sexy, Ben”.
He tilted his head, genuinely confused. “Why? You think I haven’t been with a girl on her period before? Shit, back in the seventies, girls didn’t even tell you, you just figured it out halfway through”.
“That’s vile”.
“That’s history, doll”, he said proudly, brushing his nose along your jaw. “And I got no issue gettin’ a little red on my dick. Call it patriotism”.
You snorted. “Oh my god”.
He grinned, the bastard. “Look, I’m not sayin’ we go full Slip ‘n Slide, but don’t act like you don’t want it. You get all moody and touchy when you’re like this. Sensitive… Hot”.
“I’m bloated and irritated and my uterus is actively trying to kill me”.
Ben’s hand moved up, brushing gently under your tank top, warm and surprisingly tender against your skin. “Yeah, and you’re still the prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve laid eyes on since disco died”.
Your breath hitched. Damn him. Damn his hands, his mouth, and that voice.
“You’re seriously trying to get in my pants right now?”, you asked, voice half incredulous, half breathless.
He looked down at you, so damnn calm. “I’m tryin’ to make my girl feel better. Problem?”.
You hesitated.
He smirked like he already had you beat. “That’s what I thought. Let me take care of you, baby. Ain’t scared of a little mess”.
You swallowed hard, cursing the way your body responded despite your brain screaming this was ridiculous.
“Fine”, you muttered. “But no jokes. No war metaphors. No calling it ‘shark week’”.
He leaned in, lips brushing your ear with a low growl of a promise.
“No jokes”, he murmured, his voice hot and honey-thick. “Just you, me, and a bed that’s gonna need burnin’ after”.
Before you could fire off another protest, Ben’s hand pressed flat to your shoulder, pushing you gently but firmly onto your back.
“Ben—”.
“Shh”, he drawled, settling between your legs, sitting back on his heels like he had all the time in the world. His hands gripped your thighs through the thin fabric of your shorts, thumbs stroking lazily against your skin. “Shit, I missed this view. Pretty little thing laid out just for me”.
You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not ‘laid out’—”.
“Yeah, you are”, he smirked, leaning in just enough for his breath to tickle your skin before he sat back again. “And you’re lucky I’m in a generous mood”.
With a slow, deliberate tug, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and underwear, dragging them down over your hips. The movement was unhurried, almost reverent, until the fabric slid past the tops of your thighs and your bare skin met the cooler air.
His eyes flicked down, and that wolfish grin of his spread wide.
“Well”, he said, tilting his head like he was admiring a battlefield. “There’s my girl. Bleedin’ for me”.
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “You’re disgusting”.
“Yeah”, he agreed shamelessly, tossing your clothes aside. “And you’re warm. Fuck, I love that about you humans. All that heat on the inside. Supes don’t got it the same — cold, sterile, like screwin’ a fucking refrigerator. But you…”. He ran one big, calloused hand up your thigh, slow as a match burn. “You’re all soft and alive and hot in here. Can feel it in my bones when I’m inside you”.
Your cheeks burned, and you hated that his words made something low in your stomach tighten despite the cramps. “Maybe we shoul-”.
“What?”. His thumb brushed over the tender inside of your thigh, and his gaze was fixed between your legs. “C'mon now. It’s just you. My girl. My mess”.
He leaned forward, palms braced on either side of your hips, lowering himself enough that the heat of him pressed against you. “And I’m gonna enjoy every damn second of it”.
You could feel him, hard, thick, pressing against your inner thigh like he’d been waiting days for this.
Ben reached down, wrapped a firm hand around himself, and pressed the head of his cock down with his thumb, guiding it with that casual, practiced control that made your breath hitch.
“Look at that”, he murmured, eyes dragging down between your thighs like he was admiring a loaded weapon. “Standin’ at attention so goddamn perfect".
You clenched around nothing, cursing him in your head and yourself for the way your body responded to his voice alone.
“Gonna slide in nice and slow”, he muttered, almost to himself, his hips shifting forward, the thick head of him nudging where you needed him most. “Feel every inch of you stretch around me”.
Your breath caught as he pushed in just a little, not enough to satisfy, just enough to tease. His jaw flexed.
“Fuck, you’re hot”, he groaned, eyes half-lidded. “Like a goddamn furnace in there. I swear, it’s not even fair".
You turned your face away, too flustered to meet his gaze, but he caught your chin in his hand and turned you back to face him.
“Uh-uh. Eyes on me, sugarplum”, he said, voice low. “I want you to feel every fuckin’ inch. Want you to remember who does this to you, who makes you forget the pain and all that shit. It’s me… Say it”.
Your lips parted, the words stuck in your throat, half from shame, half from how deep the need clawed inside you.
He pushed in another inch, slowly, relentlessly, and you gasped.
“Who is it, baby?”, he whispered against your ear, voice suddenly softer. “Who makes you feel like this?”.
“…You”, you breathed, almost involuntarily.
“Damn right”, he growled, and with one hard roll of his hips, he sank in deeper, not all the way, just enough to make your back arch and your fingers curl into the sheets. “Now relax. I’m not stoppin’ ‘til you forget what you were even cryin’ about”.
Ben eased back, and you caught the way his eyes flicked down between you, that smug grin stretching slow across his face.
“Now ain’t that some wholesome American shit”, he drawled, his voice thick with amusement. “White sheets, blue fuckin’ veins, and red all over the place. Damn near deserves a national anthem, sweetheart”.
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Ben…”.
“What? You’re makin’ me festive”, he smirked. “Feels like I should be salutin’ right now“.
Before you could come up with a proper insult, Ben’s smirk deepened and his hands locked hard on your hips.
“C’mere, doll”.
You barely had time to gasp before he drove back in with one rough, uncalculated thrust, too deep, too fast. The breath ripped out of you, your hands flying to his chest in reflex.
“Ben!”. The sound came out sharper than you meant, pain flaring low in your stomach.
He froze, eyes narrowing instantly. “Shit”. His grip loosened, but he didn’t pull out, his expression shifting from cocky to something dangerously close to sheepish. “Too much?”.
You glared at him through the sting. “You think?”.
He blew out a breath, muttering under it, “Damn it… ". He eased his weight off you, hands gentler now as they rubbed over your hips in slow circles. “Got carried away”.
You gave him a look that said You always get carried away.
“Hey”, he said, softer now, searching your face. “Talk to me. You good, or you want me to stop?”.
The cocky mask hadn’t dropped entirely, this was still Soldier Boy, after all, but there was a tightness in his jaw, like he was forcing himself to hold back.
“Hurts”, you admitted, your voice smaller than you meant it to be.
“Alright”, he murmured, brushing his thumb over your hip bone. “We go slow. My bad”. Then, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth again. “Still, you took damn near all of me in one go. Not bad for someone who’s supposedly delicate”.
You swatted weakly at his shoulder. “Benjamin—”.
“Yeah, yeah”, he said, bending to press his mouth against your temple. “Easy now. I’ll make it worth it”.
His hands adjusted their grip on your hips, not to pull or control this time, but to keep you steady. He moved slowly, painfully slowly for him, watching your face for the smallest flinch.
It was almost… adorable. And painfully Ben. Always overcompensating.
“You’re gonna burn a hole in me if you keep staring like that”, you said softly, trying to take the edge off.
“Not takin’ chances”, he muttered without looking away.
You reached up and brushed your fingers over the rough stubble on his jaw. “I’m okay, Ben. Just a bit sensitive right now. You’re good”.
His eyes flicked up to yours briefly, searching, like he didn’t entirely believe you. “Yeah?”.
“Yeah”, you assured, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re being… weirdly careful. Kinda sweet, actually. Don’t tell anyone, though. Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation”.
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t drop the focus. “Just… tell me if it’s too much”.
“I will”, you promised, letting your hand trail to the back of his neck, feeling the tension there.
He gave a slow nod, then eased forward again, still watching you like a hawk, less the cocky supe now, more the man who, despite himself, didn’t want to break what was his.
It struck you then… the last time he’d been this careful was months ago, the night he took your virginity. Back then, his hands had been steady but unsure, his mouth still mouthing off between moments of surprising gentleness. You’d almost thought you imagined it afterward, that tenderness, because it hadn’t shown up again.
Until now.
Seeing it again, feeling it, did something to you.
Ben wasn’t the kind of man to hold back for anyone. He was all sharp edges, bad habits and a mouth that got him into more trouble than even he could shoot his way out of. But right now, those edges were softened, his hands warm and grounding instead of demanding, his eyes scanning your face like he was taking inventory of every breath, every twitch, every flicker of discomfort.
It made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t been prepared for.
You’d fallen for him before, in pieces. In the smirk that made you want to punch him, in the way he carried himself like the world still owed him a parade, in the heat of his presence when he wanted something. But this? This was different. This was rare. And it was yours.
Your throat tightened, and you reached up, curling your fingers into the hair at the back of his head. He glanced down at you, that mission-focus still in his eyes.
“What?”, he asked.
“Nothing”, you said, shaking your head with a small smile. “Just… don’t stop”.
Something flickered in his expression, not quite a smile, but close, before he leaned in, brushing his mouth over your temple, and kept moving slow. Every shift of his body was deliberate and measured, like he was proving he could be careful when it mattered.
And you realized, right there, that this man — this brash, infuriating, larger-than-life man — had just made you fall for him all over again.
Every slow movement, every careful shift of his weight, every look he gave you like you were something worth guarding, it built higher and hotter than you expected. It wasn’t just your body reacting; it was everything else, too. The months of brashness, the constant teasing, all balanced now by this one rare, steady tenderness.
It was too much.
Your breath caught, your fingers tightening in his hair. “Ben—”.
He looked down at you, still moving with that same deliberate control, but his eyes sharpened at your tone. “You there, doll?”.
You nodded, not trusting your voice, the heat cresting all at once, sudden and overwhelming. It rolled through you in seconds, your whole body tensing and shuddering beneath him.
The sound that tore out of you was almost a sob, sharp, unsteady, too honest to hold back. You felt yourself shaking, every nerve lit up at once, and when you opened your eyes again, his were already locked on yours.
They widened, just a fraction, like you’d done something he hadn’t prepared for. That unguarded flicker, surprise, maybe even a little awe, was enough to knock the air out of both of you.
His breath hitched, the careful rhythm faltering as his grip on your hips tightened. “Ah, shit…”, he muttered, voice rough, like he’d just realized too late that you were pulling him over the edge with you. His whole body tensed above you, his weight sinking into you as he let go. The sharp inhale he took was ragged, almost matching your own.
He stayed there, braced but close, his forehead dipping to rest against yours. His breathing was uneven and his chest was rising and falling against you.
“…Didn’t see that comin’”, he admitted after a beat, his voice low and unsteady in a way you’d never heard before.
You smiled faintly, still catching your breath. “Me neither”.
He didn’t move right away. Usually, Ben was quick to roll off, crack a joke, or wander off like nothing happened, but not this time. His weight stayed over you, his forehead still pressed to yours like he was catching his breath and… maybe not ready to let go yet.
You felt the slow thud of his heartbeat against your chest, the warmth of him sinking into you. His hand slid from your hip to your side, resting there like it belonged.
“You’re heavy”, you murmured, though you made no move to push him off.
“Deal with it”, he muttered, the words automatic, but the edge was gone from his voice.
You smiled, your fingers drifting up into his hair, brushing it back from his face.
“You’re… different”, you murmured, your fingertips tracing through his hair.
His eyes stayed half-lidded, watching you. “Don’t get used to it”, he said, but there was no bite in the words.
You shifted under him slightly, realizing something. “Huh”.
“What?”, he asked.
“No cramps anymore”, you whispered, almost surprised.
That cocky grin started to tug at his mouth again. “So what you’re sayin’ is… I’m better than painkillers”.
You rolled your eyes but leaned up anyway, brushing your lips against his in a soft kiss. It lingered, slow and unhurried, before you pulled back just enough to see the faint smirk still playing on his face.
“Guess you’ve got your uses”, you teased.
“Guess?”, he echoed, feigning offense. “Baby, I just cured your uterus. That’s Nobel Prize material”.
You laughed, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “Yeah, I’ll put in the nomination tomorrow”.
He finally rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you ended up tucked against his chest. His arm stayed draped around you.
“Good”, he murmured into your hair. “Means I don’t have to go far for my next miracle”.
-
Later that day, Hughie was halfway through a sandwich, when Ben strolled in, looking smug in that I-just-got-away-with-something kind of way.
Butcher was at the table cleaning a gun, already narrowing his eyes. “What’s with the shit-eating grin, grandpa?”.
Ben dropped into the chair across from them, leaning back with his arms spread. “Just came from my girl. She’s on the rag—”
“For fuck´s sake”, Butcher muttered. “Here we fuckin’ go”.
Hughie froze mid-bite. “Uh… do we really need to hear—”.
"Yes, you do”, Ben shot back, pointing at him like a drill sergeant. “This is educational. Girl’s laid up in bed, cramps kickin’ her ass, barely able to move. So I step in, handle business like a gentleman, and suddenly?”. He snapped his fingers. “Fuckin´ miracle recovery”.
Hughie blinked. “I’m scared to ask what ‘handle business’ means”.
Ben grinned. “Kid, you ever been inside a woman when she’s runnin’ that hot? Feels like your dick just got drafted”.
“Alright, that’s enough”, Butcher snapped, jamming the cleaning rag through the barrel of his gun hard enough to nearly bend the rod.
“No, no, hear me out”, Ben went on, waving a hand. “Humans already run warm, right? But when they’re on their period?”. He pointed like he was explaining combat strategy. “Whole different operation. Like somebody lit a goddamn furnace in there”.
Hughie dropped his sandwich onto the table, looking like he was rethinking all his life choices. “I am begging you to stop talking”.
Butcher shot Ben a look full of exhaustion. “You done traumatizing the children?”.
Ben leaned back in his chair, smug as hell. “Just wanted you assholes to know you’re in the presence of a fucking healer”.
Butcher rolled his eyes. “More like a filthy old perv”.
Ben just grinned wider. “Call it what you want, pal. I call it service to my country”.
———————————
A/N: Please let me know what you think. It’s one of my all-time favorites🥰)
Idk if soldier boy would actually care if you smoked, but if he did, he would do some vile shit if he caught you.
♱ ... soldier boy ... ♱
18+ MDNI
“Don’t put it out.”
You blinked up at him in confusion from the siding you were leaning on, surprised he wasn’t snatching it from you and putting it out on his hand.
“Take another drag doll, hell, light one up for me.” You slid one out of your fresh pack, timidly holding it up to his lips. He grabbed it and the lighter, taking a deep drag. “Doesn’t do shit for me but I know you like watchin’”
You nodded slowly, a soft smile appearing on your face now that you know he’s not mad. You finished your cigs together in silence, and you stubbed yours out, ready to head back inside.
“Smoke another with me.”
You laughed nervously, already feeling keyed up from just the one. “I’m okay. You’re welcome to another if you want it though.”
“I said, smoke another with me.” He turned to you, and had that look in his eye you had learned to be afraid of.
You cautiously grabbed another from the pack, taking much shorter drags this time and trying to let the smoke escape from your lungs quickly.
“I can hear what you’re doing. Smoke ‘em how you normally do.”
A headache formed as you kept taking hits, and by the time you were done you had a nauseous pit in your stomach.
“Can we go inside now?” you asked timidly, hoping he was done with whatever point he was trying to make. “I’m cold.”
His gaze locked with yours, cocky and mean. “Another.”
“Please?” you tried again, your brows knitting together.
“Unless you want me to fuck that ass raw you’re smokin’ another.”
Two more later your vision was woozy and you felt sick to your fucking stomach.
“Had enough, doll? Still feel like smokin?’” he asked, looking down at you.
“Yes,” you said, not remembering when you had sat down against the side of the house.
“Oh she still feels like smokin’? Light up another for me then.”
“No, I meant I’ve had enough.”
Ben squatted down to look you in the eyes when he said “then say that next time I ask.” He put one he had already lit between your slack lips, hand firm on your jaw to keep your mouth closed. “Another.”
Tears leaked down your face as you inhaled, blowing the plume of smoke right in his face just to spite him.
“That’s how it’s gonna be? Was gonna let you be done after this but now I got one more with your name on it.”
You pounded your head against the siding, hating this, hating him.
“Just doin’ what’s best for ya, doll. Good luck trying to smoke after this.”
You didn’t even consider yourself a smoker. You always had a pack on deck, but only bought a new one every few weeks. Surely not often enough to warrant this.
He shoved the next one in your mouth once you were finished, a sick smirk on his face. “If you behave, this is your last one.”
You got about halfway through before you turned to the side and vomited. With those damned reflexes, Ben already had a grip of your hair ensuring you didn’t get anything dirty. You cried, feeling disgusting and woozy, the taste in your mouth borderline toxic. Ben pulled you into his arms, pressing your face against his chest while he carried you inside. You pounded on him a couple times, pissed at him for being a fucking asshole, but you felt too dizzy to do anything more than that.
“Doll, I told you I don’t want you fuckin’ smokin’. Next time, hell, if you can even stand to look at ‘em, tell me and I’ll make you cum it out.”
It's what he's known for in the industry, it's all you ever hear about when people mention him. You've seen his videos, you know there's more to it than that, but it's still the first thing you thought about when you got offered a chance to shoot with him.
You told a girl on your last set, she smiled at you, a quiet warning, "Honey, however big you think he is- he's bigger."
You were still shocked when you saw him.
Your hand doesn't even wrap round the shaft, and trying to fit any of him past your lips proved a struggle. He just grinned at you, playing it up to the camera every time you had to pull back to choke in a breath.
Now you're on your back, legs spread either side of him as he taps his cock against your pussy, obscene sounds of him rubbing against your arousal as he moves to grind against your clit. You take in a slow breath, watching him move, until he's resting at your entrance.
When he pushes his tip against your cunt, you let out a tiny gasp. Almost half a bottle of lube, and enough foreplay to fill a feature length film, and you still feel like you're not ready for him.
He starts to ease in, so slowly, like he wants to draw it out. You can't tell if it's for himself, or for the cameraman desperately trying to get the perfect shot- or maybe it's for you, trying to be as gentle as he can. Either way it takes him a minute to push the tip in, then a minute longer to get himself deep enough that he can let out a low groan.
He finally starts to push in harder, filling you up. You feel like you're being split in two, the girth and length together almost too much as you bite your lip to hold back any sounds. But then it starts to feel good, a low thrumming ache that begins to feel like pleasure the deeper he goes, stretching you out to fit him.
Once he's finally buried as deep as he can, he leans down until his lips are pressed against the shell of your ear, hiding his face from the camera. His voice is low, caught in his throat, trying to keep quiet enough it won't get picked up on the recording, "You good?"
You tighten your fingers against his bicep- you don't know how to keep your voice down right now, so you reply in the only way you can work out how- a loud moan, "Fuck- you're so big- oh my god-"
He lets out a small chuckle against you, satisfied with your answer as he slowly starts to grind his hips. He keeps his face next to you, another quiet comment, "You know just what the guys like to hear, huh?"
Your head rolls back, you feel so full, your eyes squeezing shut as you dig your nails into his skin, "Fuck-"
This isn't porn- this is real, your very authentic reaction captured on film for everyone to see. Your cheeks heat slightly, it feels different to anything you've done before, he feels different.
He kisses your temple, still grinding his hips, "That's a good girl-" then pulls back, watching you carefully as he plants his hands either side of you, starting to speed up, his voice louder for the camera, "Oh you fucking slut."
He's pushing in deeper on every grind of his hips, you realize there's still more of him to go. Your body jolts on every thrust, a moan winded out of you each time, your eyes rolling back.
He moves his hand, gripping your jaw and turning your face to look at him. Your eyes go wider, his face so possessive, so focused on the task at hand. His thumb moves into your mouth, roughly pulling at you, your tongue instinctively wrapping around it.
"Fuck- take it-" he grunts, pushing in harder, "you dirty fucking whore-"
You let out a practiced moan, playing it up for the camera, all while trying to hide how desperately close you actually are.
He slowly leans down, making it seem like he's hanging his head in pleasure, until his lips are next to your ear again. You hear him suck in a small breath, a real one, keeping himself steady, "You're doing real good for me, pretty girl-"
You let out a gasp at his words, hidden from everyone but you.
He kisses your temple again, "That's it- fuck keep it up, show them how good you sound."
He thrusts in harder, as if to emphasize his point. You let out a broken whimper, as loud as you can, though all the air feels punched out of you. He moves his hand to brush a hair out of your face- then pulls back again, eyes locked onto your own, his jaw tight, "You like that? Like when I fuck you like a bitch?"
You nod frantically- maybe it's not for the video, maybe you really mean it.
He suddenly pulls out- your back arches as you let out a desperate whine, feeling so empty. He moves you easily, picking up your body and flipping you onto your stomach. He keeps you flat against the mattress as he pulls on your hips, propping up your ass.
You're sure there was supposed to be a break before the next position- a camera reset, an audio check- but clearly you're both too caught up in the moment to care as he starts to push his cock into you again. It feels even bigger at this angle, your head buried in the pillow, ass in the air, cunt so full all you can do is whimper.
He starts to thrust again, hitting the spot that sends you dizzy with pleasure. Your mouth hangs open, a quiet uh uh uh pushed into the pillow as you squeeze your eyes shut. He slaps your ass hard, says something crass for the camera to pick up- something you can't hear because you're so focused on how full you feel. You feel yourself drooling into the pillow, any mascara left on your eyes after the blowjob must be scattered across your cheeks now. He pushes between your shoulder blades, keeping you down as he speeds up, his pace getting harder, his own grunting getting louder.
Then he tugs at you again, pulling your body up straight until you're kneeling, your back against his chest, your body on fire as he fucks into you relentlessly. You know what this is supposed to be, the final shot, you're only vaguely aware of the cameras moving around you, focusing on your body stretched out in front of him, your tits bouncing on every thrust.
He wraps his hand around your throat, a move that looks more harsh than it actually is as he pulls you into him. He's clearly trying to keep you upright, your body resting against his, but to anyone else it looks possessive, a loose grip designed to look cruel.
Then his lips are back against you, resting just behind your ear. He thrusts up harder, your whole body grinding in time with his, a quiet whisper, "Doin' so good- Jesus it's like your pussy was made for me-", he lets out a small groan against your ear, for only you to hear.
His pace falls relentless and confused, both of you so close to the edge- you've never actually come at the same time as the other actor before, it's always been a careful dance between faking and reshoots to make it look real, but you can feel yourself now, you know they're gonna get the perfect shot.
He leans forward again, "You're gonna play it up for the camera- make all those sounds you know will send guys crazy-" he nips at the skin below your ear, small enough no marks will show, "but you gotta remember- this bit's just for us- just for me."
You give a small nod, a quiet whimper, feeling so close to toppling.
You feel him smile against you, his voice strained, "Go on- fuck- let's give 'em a show-"
He pounds into you harder, your whole body so tight you can't even breathe, lips still pressed against your neck. He gives one final hard thrust and you break around him as he spills into you, both of you a mess of moans and gasps. You feel your legs twitching, your body shaking with overwhelming pleasure. His hand tightens only slightly on your throat, trying to keep himself up as his cum fills you.
For a moment you both just stay like that, panting hard, then he pulls out, his cum leaking out of you. He holds you upright for the final shot while he kisses your skin lightly, "So good- did so good-"
Then you both collapse back against the mattress, your bodies sticky and exhausted. It only takes a second for the set to take over, people running over with robes, the noise of the room picking up again. Dean doesn't let it bother him, keeping his hands on you, both of you trying to pull your breathing back to normal.
You finally sit up again, taking the robe and wrapping it around yourself, suddenly feeling exposed next to him. He follows your lead, pulling his own on as he watches you carefully.
He leans forward, setting a light kiss against your forehead, "You okay?"
You nod, "Yeah- yeah I'm okay- Jesus you're big."
He chuckles, a raised eyebrow, "You did well- not everyone can take it."
Your cheeks heat, a small laugh, "Well- thanks- I guess."
He smiles, "I mean it- you really are something else- thought I was gonna cum in the first 10 seconds-"
You laugh louder, "Well- we should do it again sometime."
☾𖤓☾𖤓☾𖤓☾𖤓☾𖤓
Part of the tarot series - 22 unrelated short stories exploring different Dean x Reader archetypes.
Just comment/message to let me know if you'd like a tag. Asked to tag: @pieolsen @bitchinwallaby @icedteabee
☀️ As always- I'd love to know your thoughts ❤️ Comments are very much appreciated ☀️
summary : mark comes home from work, not knowing you had a surprise in mind for him.
cw : smut, soft dom mark, oral (f. receiving), handcuffs, fingering, p in v. i think that’s all.
wc : 1830
You groan quietly as you feel Mark finally slipping into bed, you rub your eyes, opening them. After blinking a few times, you look at the clock on your nightstand, 3:24am. You turn to the other side, facing him, he gives you a small smile, lying down. He pulls you closer by your waist, “hi baby, I’m sorry for waking you up,” he says in a soft, quiet tone.
He places a soft kiss on your forehead, “hi,” you manage to mumble in a sleepy voice, hugging him close, which makes him chuckle. “Were you careful?” you ask, knowing how reckless he can be while working. The small lamp on the nightstand is on, like always while you wait for him to come home, it makes you feel safer. You study his face, your hand on his cheek. “My beautiful face is doing just fine, fell on my ass though, give me a massage?” he asks, the grin never leaving his face, his hand moving up and down your waist. You playfully slap his shoulder, scolding him, “Mark I’m serious just-“ he interrupts you with a kiss, “I’m okay, I swear, was in the office all day today”. You sigh, believing him, “it’s 3 in the morning,” you say, to which he responds with a small frown, “we have this guy we really need to catch, I sat in front of the computer all day,” you play with his hair, immediately feeling him relax under your touch.
“I was worried,” you say, still playing with his hair. Mark leans closer, leaving a trail of feather light kisses down your jaw, “can i make it up to you?” he whispers against your skin, you nod, already turning into putty under his touch. “words,” he reminds gently, you tug on his hair, arching your body towards him, “yes, please touch me” you breathe out. “Already begging so pretty,” he’s still kissing down your neck, the words he speaks tickling your skin along with his beard. He gently flips you onto your back, settling in between your legs, feeling you pushing your body against him already. His hand is now on your cheek, sliding down just to tease you, his hand slides lower and lower, until it settles under your shirt to lay flat against your stomach, “you thief,” he traces circles on your skin with his fingertips just to feel you squirm under him, “this is my shirt”. Your eyes flutter closed, “mhmm, but it’s comfy,” you say.
“I should arrest you,” Mark mutters against your shoulder. Your arms loop around his neck to make him look at you, “handcuff me then,” you say, batting your eyelashes, he looks at you, thinking you’re only joking. “I mean it,” you say, tugging on his hair. “Aren’t you tired?” he asks, making sure it’s what you really want, you shake your head, he captures your lips into a deep kiss, “you stay here.”
Mark rolls off you, pushing himself to his feet, and walks to the bathroom where he had left his clothes earlier so he wouldn’t wake you. He reaches for his belt, taking the cuffs out of the pouch, along with their small keys. He walks back to the bedroom, tossing them next to you on the bed. He places the keys on the nightstand before getting on his knees in between your legs. “you sure?” he rubs your hips with his thumbs, you nod once again, putting your wirsts close together and lifting them in front of him, “I want you,” you say, almost breathless already. He pushes his hands under your shirt, rubbing the outside of your thighs, moving up a bit to curl his fingers around the edge of your underwear, cursing under his breath. “Fucking unbelievable,” he clicks his tongue, lifting your shirt slightly, you’re not wearing any underwear. Mark pushes the shirt over your head, taking it off. He leans down to press a kiss to your stomach, looking up at you, “you were planning this, hm?” he questions with a grin on his face, sitting back up, you can’t help but nod, “mhm, i just didn’t know what time you’d be home,” you admit quietly.
Mark takes your wrists in one hand, grabbing the cuffs with the other, “if at any point you want me to take these off, you tell me. If at any point they start hurting, you tell me. We clear?” he demands, voice serious, closing the metal cuffs around your wrists with practiced ease, you nod, “yes.” He looks up at you, securing the cuffs, “yes what?” he asks, voice low, gently pushing your arms above your head, making sure you’re completely comfortable, “yes sir,” you look into his eyes as you say that, and he gives you a satisfied smile, “there you go, good girl. Now you’re being good”.
“Couldn’t keep you off my mind today,” he mutters, placing a kiss on your knee, his hand finds your ankle gently to lay your legs flat on the bed. He kisses up your thigh, hearing a soft moan fall from your lips. “Tell me what you want,” he speaks, giving the supple skin of your thigh a soft bite just to hear another moan. You look down at him, and he’s already looking right into your eyes like a hawk, “your mouth, fingers, anything,” you whine, the sight of him in between your legs already driving you insane, he lowers his body so that he’s holding himself above you, kissing your lips. He tugs on your bottom lip, making you whine, again. His kisses get lower, down your jaw, neck, slowly and teasingly sucking a small bruise above your collarbone. One of his two hands moves down, cupping one of your breasts, squeezing, “gorgeous fucking girl,” he mutters in between kisses, placing a kiss on your other breast before continuing his path of kisses in between your breasts and down your stomach. You arch your back and you feel him grin against your skin. Smug asshole.
He trails his lips lower, he looks into your eyes one more time, “want me like this?” and so you whisper, “please”. Then his lips are on you, licking stripe in between your folds, the smile still not leaving his face as you’re lifting your hips to meet his tongue. “Already begging and i didn’t even ask you to, what’s making you so desperate, huh baby?” he hums, circling his tongue on your clit, his hands already gripping your thighs. “You,” you manage to whine out, your hands aching to tug on his hair.
You can barely even lift your hands, moving them towards him, when he lifts one of his own, putting your arms back where they were. “The cuffs hurting you?” he looks up, “no,” you simply reply, “do you want them off because you’re uncomfortable or are you being a brat?” he asks, lifting hs head up even more, “I don’t want them off, I just wanna touch you,” you whine. “You will touch me when I say so,” he kisses your knee one more time, “color,” he murmurs, “green,” you reply, looking down at him, adjusting your arms above your head. “Tell me if that changes,” he says, his mouth moving against you again, slowly, teasingly. You whine, gripping the sheets, “taste so fucking good,” he groans, his tongue teasing your hole. His thumb joins his mouth, circling your clit, his mouth and fingers then switch places, he teases your opening with one of his fingers before sliding it inside you, “fucking soaked,” he groans once again, curling that finger perfectly against that gummy spot that makes you moan his name, clenching around him. “Gonna be a good girl and fall apart for me when I ask?” he doesn’t even lift his head to speak, but he keeps his eyes on you the whole time. You nod, whimpering, loud, shameless, “yeah, fuck-” he adds a second finger, quickening the pace of them, “then come for me, right fucking now,” he mutters, and so you do. He kisses his way back up your stomach, until he reaches your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him with a moan. “Doing okay?” he asks against your lips, you nod. Mark reaches for the small key on the nightstand and unlocks the metal cuffs with a sharp click.
Your hands quickly find his hair, he smiles against your lips, “greedy thing, won’t even let me get my 3 hours of sleep,” he says with a fake pout, you give him the same expression, “I’ll let you sleep if you want me to, but I think you need something first,” you say, rolling your hips against the hardness in his boxers, he throws his head back, closing his eyes, he leans down again, kissing you deeply, “always fucking need you.”
He gives your waist a squeeze, “you sure?” he asks, he waits until you say yes, nodding. He quickly discards his boxers and reaches into the nightstand, grabbing a condom, carefully opening the wrapper, and taking the condom out. He rolls it on, stroking himself a few times with a shaky sigh.
“Ready for me?” he asks as he pecks your shoulder, you nod, “yes.” One of his hands moves down, grabbing his cock once again, stroking it, he runs his reddened tip up and down your slit a few times before pushing inside you slowly with a breath. His hips start moving, already stuttering from the warmth of your walls around him, “so tight, so fucking tight,” he grunts, one of his hands on your cheek as he leans down to kiss you. Mark slows down to tease you, smirking when he hears you whine, he pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss, and for a second you think he’s going to pull out, but he snaps his hips forward, pushing back in alla at once.
He lifts a hand, holding your jaw, “feel your pussy squeezing me already,” he grunts, hand moving lower to hold your throat, not squeezing, holding, you nod, unable to form words, too focused on how good he’s making you feel. “i’m close,” you say with a few broken moans, and he picks up his pace, squeezing your throat. “So fucking gorgeous. Come on my cock, baby, go on,” he mutters. It only takes a few more thrusts of his hips to feel your body shaking under him, moans getting louder, he kisses you, swallowing the noises. He rests his forehead against yours, “god baby I’m-“ a moan interrupts his words, and the way his breathing changed, you know he’s close. You tug at his hair, his head dropping against your shoulder, and he comes, his eyes squeezing shut, the hand that was around your throat now squeezing your hip. He kisses your forehead, head still spinning from coming, “fucking perfect for me as always,” he pulls out slowly, making you gasp. “I should’ve come home sooner,” he said with a kiss.
I feel like we have all collectively forgotten that ben is a supe and can easily throw a car, so here are some headcannons related to his powers
ben who can lift you up and down his cock without any effort, so even when you’re riding him you’re still his doll
ben who can easily pin you to the wall by your throat and keep you there as long as he pleases—he loves to watch your eyes roll back and your face get nice and red to match the tip of his cock
ben who can fuck you without a table or bed or floor. One hand is supporting your lower back and the other is gripping the back of your neck with your legs thrown over his shoulders, and he loves looking in your eyes when the only thing you’re touching is him. One day he will figure out how to fuck you and support you with just his cock
ben who is indestructible and lets you use his hair as a handle, no matter how much weight it’s supporting. He loves it when you grip it instead of his shoulders when he’s standing up and fucking you
ben who literally doesn’t need to breathe, so when he takes a deep inhale of your pussy it’s for his pleasure
ben who can carry you any way he pleases, so depending on his mood he will tote you around like a koala on his hip or carry you bridal style with one arm, your head comfortably tucked into his neck.
ben who can fuck you by banding one arm around your lower belly and the other around your throat, leaving your legs to swing and dangle as he ruts into you from behind
ben whose skin is indestructible but still sensitive enough to turn to goose flesh at the drag of your nails
ben who can hold your jaw exactly where he wants it, and when you try and shake him off he just grips tighter and slips his index finger in your mouth for you to bite on (which you do, and he loves it)
ben who sits you on his lap and grabs the back of your knees to lift you up and down his thick cock, letting your head loll back on his shoulder as he splits you in half and rubs at your clit
ben who has no refractory period and loves fucking his cum back into you and using it as lube
ben who will hold you just above his cock and won’t let you sink down until you’ve begged enough to satisfy you (or you get wet enough that you drip onto his cock)
ben who would hold you up just by your throat and your asshole if you could take it
summary. dean heads out for food, giving you twenty precious minutes alone in the motel room to break out your vibrator—except he returns for his forgotten wallet and decides to finish what you started himself.
wordcount. 1055
warnings. explicit sexual content, solo masturbation interrupted, voyeurism, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, possessive dean, unprotected sex, light choking, creampie, breeding kink, semi-public in a thin-walled motel
you watch the impala’s taillights disappear down the snowy motel parking lot, red glowing against the white fluff piling up outside. dean said twenty minutes, maybe thirty with the holiday crowds at the diner. plenty of time.
you lock the door behind him anyway, heart already racing. you strip fast—jeans kicked off, panties shoved down, flannel left open. you dig the small black vibrator out of your duffel, the one you’ve kept hidden for months, and flop back onto the bed.
the sheets are cold at first, then warm under you. you spread your legs, click the toy on low, and press it right where you need. a soft buzz fills the quiet. you close your eyes, bite your lip, and let the tension you’ve carried for weeks start to unravel.
you think about dean—of course you do. the way his hands grip the wheel, the low rumble of his voice when he says your name after a close call, the way he looked at you across the room earlier, green eyes lingering too long. the vibrator hums harder when you turn it up, circling slow, then faster. your hips roll, breath hitching.
you’re close already. embarrassingly close.
the door rattles.
your eyes fly open. the key turns. dean steps in, snowflakes melting on his jacket, cheeks red from the cold.
“forgot my damn wallet,” he starts, then stops dead.
he sees everything: you sprawled half-naked on the bed, legs open, vibrator still pressed between your thighs, hand frozen, chest heaving. snow melts on his jacket shoulders. his mouth opens, closes.
you should cover up. turn it off. say something snarky.
you don’t move. the toy is still buzzing softly against you, and the humiliation burns hot, but so does the ache.
dean’s gaze drags slow from your face down to where the vibrator disappears between your legs. his jaw flexes. he kicks the door shut behind him, flips the deadbolt without looking.
“well,” he says, voice low, rougher than the wind outside, “merry fuckin’ christmas to me.”
he shrugs his jacket off, lets it drop. his boots thud as he crosses the room in three strides. you finally pull the toy away, but he shakes his head.
“nuh-uh. put it back.”
your heart slams. you press it against your clit again, a small whimper escaping. his eyes darken to something dangerous.
“been thinkin’ about me?” he asks, stopping at the foot of the bed.
you nod.
“words, sweetheart.”
“yes,” you breathe. “only you.”
he groans, low in his chest, and drops to his knees on the carpet. big hands slide up your calves, over your knees, pushing your thighs wider. the flannel falls open completely. cold air hits your wet skin; his palms are furnace-hot.
“look at you,” he mutters. “soaked. shaking. all from a little toy?”
he takes the vibrator from your hand, examines it like it personally offended him, then tosses it aside. it buzzes itself silent against the wall.
“don’t need that shit when i’m right here.”
his mouth is on you in the next breath—hot, open, filthy. he licks a slow stripe up your center, groans at the taste like he’s starving. you cry out, fingers flying to his hair. he doesn’t tease; he dives in, tongue pushing inside you, then dragging up to circle your clit hard.
two fingers slide in without warning, thick and perfect, curling deep. you arch off the bed, heels digging into his back.
“dean—”
he pulls back just enough to speak, breath ghosting over you. “quiet, baby. walls are thin. don’t want sammy knowin’ how good i’m eatin’ you.”
then he’s back at it, sucking your clit, fingers pumping steady. the wet sounds are obscene in the quiet room. you bite your forearm to muffle the moans, but he reaches up, pulls your arm away.
“wanna hear you,” he growls. “just keep it low.”
you come hard, sudden, thighs clamping around his head, a broken whine of his name spilling out. he works you through it, licking softer until you’re twitching, oversensitive.
he rises slow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving yours. he strips fast—flannel gone, t-shirt yanked over his head, belt clinking open. jeans shoved down just enough to free his cock. he’s thick, flushed, leaking at the tip.
he climbs over you, kisses you deep and messy. you taste yourself on his tongue, moan into his mouth.
“been drivin’ me crazy for months,” he mutters against your lips. “smellin’ you on my shirts. hearin’ you breathe my name in your sleep.”
he lines up, pushes in slow. the stretch makes you both groan. he bottoms out, stays there a second, forehead pressed to yours.
“fuck, you feel perfect.”
then he moves—deep, deliberate strokes at first, like he’s savoring it. you wrap your legs around his waist, heels spurring him on. he braces one arm beside your head, the other hand sliding up to wrap around your throat—not tight, just enough pressure to make your pulse race under his thumb.
“mine,” he says, voice wrecked. “this pussy’s mine now.”
you nod frantically, clenching around him.
he speeds up, hips snapping harder, the bed creaking loud. his hand tightens a fraction on your throat, then loosens, thumb stroking your jaw like he can’t decide between gentle and rough.
“gonna fill you up,” he rasps. “gonna leave you dripping with me. want you feelin’ me every time you sit down tomorrow.”
the words tip you over again. you come clenching hard around him, nails raking down his back, biting his shoulder to stay quiet. he swears, pace stuttering, then buries himself deep and comes with a low, guttural groan, pulsing hot inside you.
he doesn’t pull out right away. stays buried, breathing hard, kissing your neck, your jaw, your mouth soft now. his hand slides from your throat to cup your face.
after a minute he rolls to the side, tugging you with him so you’re half-draped over his chest. his fingers trace lazy patterns on your back. come leaks slow between your thighs, warm and messy.
outside, snow keeps falling, muffling the world.
inside, the tv flickers silent christmas lights across your tangled bodies.
dean presses a kiss to your hair.
the impala sits under a fresh layer of snow.
neither of you moves to leave the bed.
requested by ⊹ ࣪ ˖ @chi-raz
⋮ ⌗ ┆ you might also be interested in reading sam's version.
You’re writhing and squirming and whining nonsense but he’s got you right where he wants you.
In his bed on your back.
He’s kneeling beside you, one leg pushed up over his shoulder as he pumps a measly two fingers in and out of you like it’s his job. it is.
He’s grinning slyly as he gives you mean little slaps, pinching your cheeks in his hand and mocking that he’s just too much for you.
But it doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters when all you can focus on is his thick, relentless fingers forcing in and out of you, the feel of the pads of his fingers crooking inward and pressing against your plush walls again and again.
Your whimpers pick up as he drags you near the edge and it’s music to his ears.
And it’s too good, it’s too much.
But if you dare to reach down, to try to pull his hand away?
Well that’s grounds for at least another round of you creaming on his fingers before he would consider fucking you.
summary: you dress up as a maid which results in him using you the way he wants
cw: 18+ smut.ᐟ porn with plot.ᐟ thigh fucking.ᐟ roleplay.ᐟ mild spanking.ᐟ slight degradation.ᐟ soldier boy is a mean brat tamer.ᐟ est relationship [couple].ᐟ
word count: 940
knock, knock, knock.
you cleared your throat quietly before speaking up, “housekeeping!”
ben’s head shot up, eyes running to the bedroom door as he heard your soft voice from the other side.
he couldn’t help but smirk, sitting up on the edge of the bed and taking the cigarette in between his lips before answering with his raspy voice, “come in.”
you took a small deep breath in and out, fixing the skirt of your black and white maid outfit.
it’s skimpy, it’s vintage, and it’s definitely sexy – check, check, check. soldier boy approved.
your grip tightened around the french maid duster, your other hand reaching for the door knob, opening the door wide open.
ben was manspreading on the edge of your bed, silk robe thrown over his muscular body, it was floral but did not take away from his masculinity.
as you met your eyes with his, you noticed the sly grin that decorated his handsome, well-aged features.
ben let out a low wolf whistle, “well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes” he chuckled, taking another puff of his cigarette, letting the smoke cloud over his face.
you stepped inside the bedroom, slightly nervous knowing this little roleplay, which he suggested a while ago, will lead to one outcome and one outcome only – ben having his way with you, leaving you an absolute mess.
*✩‧₊˚☽˚.⋆
ben’s tip of the cock easily peaked past your slick thighs with each slow thrust, his big strong calloused hands holding your legs tightly in place against his chest so he could fuck himself between your soft thighs.
your cheeks blushed, heart rate up from simply being so aroused, you didn’t expect him to use you in such a filthy way, getting himself off with your thick thighs he’s been obsessing over ever since you remembered.
“fuck- look at you.. all lubed up, my cock between those pretty thighs of yours.” he chuckled with his cigarette between his lips, his voice like gravel.
ben took his time, he was in no rush whatsoever knowing he has you all to himself, on halloween night, wearing your slutty little maid outfit just for him.
his thick veiny cock slid against your slit and teased at your clit with every painfully slow thrust, spreading your wetness and lube everywhere.
he rolled his hips with calculated movement, you looked up at him with a dazed look in your eyes, as if he already fucked your brains out. “such a pretty lil mess y’are, already lookin so fucked out.” he grunted.
he sped up his pace eventually, the flushed tip of his cock poking out each time he pushed forwards. you would be lying if you said this wasn’t hot, you were all worked up and ready to take his cock, but he oddly refused to slide inside of you.
“b-ben.. please~” you whined, looking up into his eyes, barely able to handle it anymore, the way his cock slid against your slit drove you absolutely crazy.
“quit your whining, you brat.” he scolded you, fuck if that didn’t make you more wet. you could feel his cock twitching between your thighs, a sign he was getting close.
you squirmed around a bit, trying to get him to ‘accidentally slide his cock inside you’ but he knew you too well.
he stopped and pulled his cock out from between your thighs, holding your legs together with one hand and with the other he gave you a harsh warning spank, a red hand print appearing right away. you let out a soft whine at the burning sensation.
“behave.” ben warned, his voice low and raspy as he took another puff of his cigarette. “i decide when you get stuffed – not you.”
he positioned you back in front of him again and slid his cock back between your thighs, his pace now fast, trying to catch up to what you made him prolong.
“not one word. if i hear another sound out of you, i’ll make sure your ass is bright red by the end of the night.” ben threatened, making your eyes grow wide.
“and you won’t get any cock.” he added, making you pout.
“do i make myself clear?” he raised a brow.
you nodded, puppy eyes staring back at him.
“good.” he hummed, continuing to chase his climax.
you bit your lip, holding onto any whimpers or needy whines of yours. spanking is all fun and stuff, until a certain someone called soldier boy makes you cry and squirm, begging for him to stop.
his cock twitched again, giving a short warning before shooting thick ropes of white all over your thighs, stomach and even your neck. you could physically see the tip of his cock pulsating as he pumped himself dry.
ben then suddenly pulled out his length from between your thighs and gave them a soft slap.
“looks like there’s a mess for you to clean, maid.” he smirked smugly, taking the cigarette from his lips and putting it down onto the ashtray, then plopping down onto the bed with a soft thud.
“clean yourself up.” ben ordered, his hands behind his head, looking like he didn’t tire himself out one bit yet. his big girthy cock still hard, resting against his abdomen.
“oh and- take this.. still got a couple’a things i wanna do with you” he added before grabbing the bottle of lube from the night stand and gently throwing it your way, giving you a cocky wink.
knowing perfectly well you’ll be a crawling, teary-eyed, covered in his cum mess by the time he is finished with you.
your bedroom was a mess. the red petals fell from the sheets to floor as dean threw you on your king sized bed. lamps were off, the only lights were coming from the candles your husband had set up earlier as a surprise for your wedding night. his jacket and your dress were already on the floor. whole room filled with both of your heavy breaths and gasps.
his lips against yours were rough and needy as he laid on top of you. his hands were everywhere. on your neck, sliding to your chest, gripping gently your tits and rolling your already hard nipples through your white, lacy bra.
one hand going to your back, finding the clasp of your bra and undoing it. he was greeted by the sight of your tits at which he groaned, his mouth watering. "my two favorite girls." it was such a cheesy line, but at that moment you couldn't stop the wave of pleasure that hit you with his words.
your body wriggling under his, your moans making him feel dizzy as his lips wrap around one of your nips, sucking and nibbling gently your sensitive bud. he leaves several hickeys across your chest and collarbones, taking pleasure in marking you up.
his mouth trail lower pressing open-mouthed kisses to your stomach and licking skin under your navel. his hands grip your waist, taking in the feeling of your soft skin, under his rough, caloused hands.
his teeth grip the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them off, helping himself with his hands. he throws the fabric, somewhere on the floor and grabs your thighs, hooking them around his broad shoulders. his mouth attach to the delicate skin of your inner thighs, his stubble scraping your body in a arousing/painful friction.
"finally, this little pussy is officialy mine. you have no idea how long i waited for that." his warm breath hits your clit, making you arch your back. "wanted to marry you the second i saw you, sweetheart." he gives your cunt a affectionate kiss and groans. "you taste so sweet, baby. i swear nothing is as delicious as you."
his face is between your legs as he laps at your clit, giving slow and heavy licks. his stubble is rough against your skin, scratching and leaving red marks with his every move. your clit swollen from the friction. he's not gentle. his tongue working, leaving your pussy marked and puffy.
his middle and ring finger slowly entering your hole, preparing you for his cock. you can't stop your moans, when you feel the silver of his wedding ring pushing against your walls. his fingers pumping in and out roughly. wet sounds of your pussy getting pounded by his fingers filling up the room.
"fuuck, dean..." you gasp, fisting his hair. your hips giving small jerks each time he decides to suck too hard.
he doesn't stop until you're a mess. legs trembling and pussy so overstimulated it starts throbbing. he pulls away, licking his fingers clean, savoring the taste of your juices.
"you think she's ready to take me now?" before you can answer you hear the click of his belt. you try to catch your breath as he pulls his pants down right with his boxers. he pushes your hands behind your head and wraps his belt around your wrists and the headboard, trapping you securely.
his dick pressed between both of yours and his bellies, precum covering his stomach. you take in the view of his thick lenght. big vein in the middle, and the red, flushed tip. it makes your mouth water.
"please, dean... i need you..." you gasp out and he chuckles as he grinds his cock between your soaked, puffy folds.
"you're so greedy, baby. you want your husband's dick, is that right? you can't wait even five minutes, baby" he grabs his cock and taps it a few times against your clit, just to piss you off.
"come on... please, dean..." you wiggle but your hands are still tied up to the headboard. "don't tease me."
he guides the tip of his cock to your entrance. he rubs your slick over his lenght, using it as a lube and slowly presses inch by inch until he's inside you to the hilt. your breath taken away at the sudden stretch.
"just like that, baby... nice and slow breaths." he murmurs to your ear, hand stroking your cheek as he starts to move his hips, pulling out his cock, and pushing it back in. "you're taking it so good for me... my sweet wife." he presses a kiss to your temple, not slowing his pace for even a second.
you whine when he hits this one place deep inside you, that makes you feel so good. he can feel you squeezing his dick with your walls. "fuck, baby. gonna milk me right here..." his pace gets rougher, his hips slapping yours. " gonna let me cum inside you, right?" you can't do anything more then give him a nod as you feel your orgasm slowly coming.
"yeah? you want to make me a daddy? the thought of you with big belly... swollen tits... fuck baby, you really gonna make me burst..."
"dean... i'm close-" you whine out, legs thightening around his hips, your whole body trembling.
he moves his hand to your clit, his thumb circling your needy heat as he pounded into you. his cock hitting all the right places, with his finger moving just right, had you clenching around him like crazy.
you cry out his name, climax going right through your body, overwhelming you. dean doesn't stop. he fucks you through it. you can feel his cock twitching inside you. his rhythm stutters, he buries himself inside you to the hilt. he presses your bodies together as he empties himself inside you. thick, hot ropes of cum filling you up, making you feel full like you've never been.
you both let out satisfied moans at the feeling. he slowly unties your hands and pulls you to his side, pressing a kiss to your temple. "you okay?"
"mhm" you murmur, nuzzling into his chest, too tired to answer.
You and Soldier Boy have a drunken night together (sfw..this time;)), plus the aftermath.
Contents: Ben (soldier boy) x reader, alcohol, lovey-dovey touching, Ben doesn't really get drunk drunk, ample teasing, Ben is kinda a dick, he likes you though, not totally proof read sorry
The first quiet groan you let out in the morning was entirely pitiful. You winced as the bright rays of sun insisted on piercing through the blinds, aggravating the vicious throbbing in your head.
The sophomore groan sounded the same, but was rooted in a new reason; memories of the night before seeping in.
It was foolish to try to keep up with a supe, you knew that. But he just made it too simple. Pouring himself another dose with practiced ease, then nodding to your empty glass curiously.
It took so little effort to nod once, consenting to a refill.
And then once it was in front of you, well you might as well take another hearty swig....
Sure, the edges of the world had gone fuzzy, and your tongue sat looser in your mouth, but you were still in control, you could help it.
Until you couldn't.
And then you were halfway in his lap, your front draped easily across his chest, your entire body humming with comfort.
"Fucking clingy once you've got a few drinks in you mmh?" he teased, voice bordering on cruelty, but not there yet, not really.
"Haven't had half as much as you," you grumbled, rubbing your check along his bare chest like a desperate kitten.
"Little thing like you?" he snorted. "You'd be in a coma if you even tried to match me."
His voice was cruel, but the way his rough hand ran down your back was so delicate it was almost impressive.
You huffed tiredly.
"Y'know what?" You leaned your chin against chest, staring up at him.
"What?" He cocked a brow indulgently.
"I really hoped you'd be nicer after this much booze."
"You thought I would be nice?" his voice was riddled with amusement.
"I did," you nodded.
He looked at you, almost proudly, before cupping your face and holding it where he could see. Anyone else, even a more sober you, might be intimidated, mere inches from the face of the toughest supe on earth.
But you were a woman on a mission.
"And what, might I say, If I were nice?"
You hummed thoughtfully, sloppily tucking a stray tuft off his hair away, fingers lingering on his face. You were staring at his dangerous green eyes with pure adoration, as if he'd hung the moon.
"You would say I'm pretty," you slurred hapily, "and that you like me soooooo much."
He sighed, turning his head left then right, no one was around of course, but it was habit.
Then he zoned on you, careful, thoughtful.
"You are pretty," he offered softly, "and I like you."
"Sooooo much?" you pushed, wide-eyed.
"So, so much," he conceded, brushing his nose against yours, warm, whiskey breath brushing against your face.
You let out a happy noise, looping your arms around his neck and tucking in tighter.
There was some more babbling after that, and plenty of you tucking into him further and further, and if you could smother a memory you would have.
"Morning sunshine," came a smug, heavy voice beside you.
"Shut. up." You grunted, shoving your face in the pillow.
"Woah, there's a fucking shift,” he balked, snorting.
"Stop talking," you pressed.
You know doll," he mused casually, petting down your spine just because he could. "You're way more friendly when you're smashed."
Your nose crinkled.
But you thought fast, deciding to switch tactics. After all, brattiness only edged Ben on, made him eager to tame you. But maybe if you batted your lashes softly...
"Ben," you pouted gently, peaking up at him all doe-eyed.
"Curled in my lap like a goddamn kitten, should be pathetic," his tone landed somewhere between scoofing and...reminiscent?
You sighed softly, pressing your face fully into the pillow again.
"Sweet girl," he hummed, petting your head heartily. "It'd be pathetic if it wasn't you."
"That's nice," you grunted, still face down.
"You know what?"
"What?"
"You're pretty," he started, voice dripping with amusement.
"Ben-"
"And I like you sooooo much," he added grinning.
"Asshole," you muttered, defeated.
"Yeah, yeah," he waved, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you head up,
Reader is forced into a moment of vulnerability with Ben while their relationship is still fresh.
Contents: fwb turned relationship, reader x ben, bad dreams, bedsharing, fluff, nothing too crazy here
It was all still new, very new.
Not the sex of course, he's been fucking you for quite a while now. But the rest of it.
The staying over, spending nights in his bed even when it didn't include sex. The way your clothes had slowly relocated to the drawers on the left side of his dresser. The way Ben had casually referred to you as "his girl" in conversations, or how he'd tugged you close and harshly bit out, "she's unavailable," when you where approached in public.
You knew how to handle him squeezing your cheeks with two fingers, making you look him in the eye as he shoved a third thick finger into your sopping cunt. Or when he shoved your face against the comforter, gripping and lifting your hips so he could fuck you deep into the mattress.
But you didn't know how to deal with this.
You'd shoved the blankets off of you before your eyes had even opened. You'd slipped free from his arms and pulled yourself out of bed, pressing your back against the wall as your heart pounded in your ears.
It was the kind of nightmare that seeped into the real world, the kind where it took a little longer to remind yourself it wasn't real.
You gulped big, quiet breaths, trying to stay mindful of your noise level as you panted.
Ben was a supe, meaning he had enhanced hearing, but he was also a deep, heavy sleeper. It was a toss up.
You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, creeping towards the doorway. You were almost out of the room when the floor creaked beneath you. You pinched your eyes shut, listening.
There was a grunt, a shuffle, and then;
"Where the hell did ya go?" his voice was laced with sleep, but held a sharp awareness. You bit your lip, turning slowly.
"Oh, bathroom," you excused.
"I'm fine," you tacked on unnecessarily.
It was quiet for a moment.
"Liar.” He bit off.
Sharp. Accusing.
You winced and turned to face him as he sat up in bed, sheets falling away to expose his bare chest.
"What happened?" He pressed.
"Nothing."
"Bullshit."
"It was just a stupid dream," you tried again, voice almost desperate.
"Get over here," he nodded to the bed.
You almost said no.
Almost.
It was on the tip of your tongue, but what was the point? Ben wasn't exactly known to back down or let things go.
So instead you nodded, crossing the room and perching on the edge of the bed, intentionally keeping space between you.
His eyes narrowed.
You gave a helpless shrug in response, as if you didn't know what he'd wanted.
He sighed, wiping a hand down his face, wiping the sleep away.
Then he moved, leaning forward and hooking his arms around you, yanking you into him.
There was no point fighting back as he tucked you into his side. Moving the blankets around you with far more tenderness than anyone would suspect Solider Boy capable of.
"Now," his thumb came beneath your jaw, tipping your gaze up, "talk."
"It wasn't real," you whispered weakly.
"No shit," he grunted, but his gaze was soft, interested.
"Tell me."
You pulled your head away, and he let you turn your gaze downward.
"It was a bad dream," you started, mentally grasping for words that wouldn't make you sound so stupid.
Words that wouldn't spoil how he saw you.
"It's late, I'm alone in a bad part of town-I don't know why I'm there. But, I'm being followed, in the distance at first, then he gets closer, closer and I-I-"
you swallow hard, closing your eyes as the realness of it all comes back to you. It was still fresh, your brain hadn’t had enough time to finish the untangling dream from reality.
"I speed up, I cut down different streets, I try to lose him but-" your breath hitches.
"Okay, hey, hey," he shushes, pulling you in.
He's heard enough of your pitful tale. How stupid you must look.
This man has seen and felt war and torture and sufferring on a scale you could never understand. And you'd bothered him, even woken him up over your piddly-ass nightmare.
"Next time, you fucking wake me," he finishes, voice stern.
That, you weren't ready for.
Your eyes burned. You were bracing for shame, dismissal, not concern.
Your hand reaches up as soon as you feel the first tear fall, as if you can stop him from seeing it if you wipe it away fast enough.
"You don't carry shit like this alone anymore, hear me?" his voice was hard, almost scolding.
You tilted your head, chin resting on his chest as you looked up at him confused.
It was still strange, to see his face, so often hard and daunting, looking at you now with indulgence, focus.
"I thought-" you sniffed, and he took the opportunity to cut you off.
"You're not some tough fucking supe, you're fragile, soft."
"I'm not that soft," you muttered softly, pouting.
“You are." he insisted firmly, giving you a knowing look. "You're my soft, delicate little thing. Only nice thing I've got. Of course you're gonna need me."
He traced his calloused thumb along your lower lip, the touch was almost rough, but he was trying to be gentle.
"I didn't pick you because you're tough. So quite fucking acting like you are and get used to leaning on me."
You inhaled slowly, then exhaled.
"Okay," you whispered, still looking up at him.
He watched you for a moment, maybe to make sure he'd made his point, then his grip tightened and he moved you to lay against him.
Holding you close, anchoring you.
"And fragile little things like you need sleep. So close those eyes," he tsked, tapping at your nose affectionately.
You nodded snuggling against him, his hold on you was tight, unmoving.
Some part of you still longed to prove yourself to him, but you could try again another night. For now, you were safe, and warm, and sleepy.
"Atta girl, I've gotcha," he mummered softly, "I've gotcha."
