Feb 17
princess treatment but it's just you fucking my brains out until I can't overthink things anymore...
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princess treatment but it's just you fucking my brains out until I can't overthink things anymore...
I wanna be pumped so full of cum. I’ll feel a flood of warmth in my cunt as you fill me up, like flowers blooming in the spring. My skin sticky with sweat and I can’t seem to lift my eyelids until you start thrusting into me again.
soft launching my praise kink by asking "did I do well ?"
Girls just don’t need brains. You literally have an organ on your body fully designed to take and to please cock. Just serve your purpose and stop fucking talking
“fuck my little girl is so tight” I’m already cumming for you dad!
could I bounce on it while you're playing videogames with your friends? 𐔌՞꜆. ̫.꜀՞𐦯
If you don't fuck the creampie deeper what are you even doing?
Pounding confidence into you ۶ৎ
Summary: You're feeling insecure, Soldier boy drags you to a mirror and pounds confidence into you.
ꨄ︎ Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, slight choking, smut, mirror sex, rough sex, fingering, p in v, insecure reader, heavy praise kink.
wc: 700
You stood barefoot in front of the massive floor-length mirror that took up most of one wall in the bedroom, arms crossed tight over your stomach like that could hide anything. The black dress you’d chosen for tonight clung to every curve, every soft place, every imperfection you couldn’t stop cataloging. The lights felt too harsh. Your reflection stared back at you, tired eyes, the way your thighs touched, the faint lines on your hips that no amount of Vought-level skincare could erase.
You looked ordinary. And Ben was anything but.
You didn’t hear him until the heavy click of his boots echoed across the marble. He stopped in the doorway. His green eyes narrowed the second he saw you hunched in on yourself.
“The hell is this?” His voice was rough, “You were supposed to be ready, doll.”
You tried to laugh it off, but it came out shaky. “It’s nothing. The dress just doesn’t look right tonight.”
Ben crossed the room coming up behind you. The heat of his body pressed against your back instantly. One large hand settled on your hip, fingers splaying wide.
“Bullshit,” he muttered, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Talk.”
You swallowed hard, eyes dropping to the floor. “I just don’t feel good enough. Not next to you. My body’s not...” You gestured vaguely at the mirror. “It’s not like the girls you used to have. I’ve got stretch marks and I just look tired and...”
“Eyes up.” He caught your chin between his fingers and tilted your face back toward the glass. “You don’t get to look away when I’m talking to you.”
His other hand slid down your side, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of your waist. “You think I don’t see you? I see every fucking thing, sweetheart. And I still can’t keep my hands off you.”
He tugged the zipper down your back with a single smooth pull. The dress whispered to the floor, leaving you in nothing but black lace panties and a matching bra that suddenly felt too small under his gaze.
Ben’s eyes darkened in the reflection. “Fuck me,” he breathed, almost reverent. He palmed your breasts from behind, squeezing them together, thumbs circling your nipples through the thin fabric until they hardened.
He pinched one just hard enough to make you gasp.
“This ass?” His hands dropped lower, gripping fistfuls of soft flesh and spreading you slightly. “I dream about this ass bouncing on my cock. These thighs?” He gave one a light slap that made the skin jiggle. “I want them wrapped around my head while I eat you out.”
Your face burned, but you couldn’t look away. His words were crude and they were sinking into the cracks of your insecurity.
He hooked his fingers into your panties and dragged them down your legs, letting them catch at your ankles before you kicked them away. One thick finger traced through your folds, finding you slick already. He let out a low, satisfied chuckle.
“Always so wet for me. Your body knows what it wants even when your being fuckin’ stupid.”
You whimpered as he circled your clit lazily. Behind you, he shoved his pants down just enough to free himself. His cock was heavy against your ass, thick, veined, already leaking at the tip. He rubbed it between your cheeks, teasing.
“Hands on the glass,” he ordered. “Don’t you fucking move them.”
You braced your palms against the cool mirror, breath fogging the surface. Ben lined up and pushed in with one deep, relentless thrust. The stretch made your mouth fall open in a silent cry. He was so big, so much, filling you until you felt him in your stomach.
“Watch,” he growled, starting to move, slow, grinding rolls of his hips that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. “Watch how pretty you look taking my cock.”
The mirror showed everything: your flushed chest, the way your breasts swayed with each thrust, the desperate expression on your face. Ben’s hand came around to rub your clit in tight, perfect circles while the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.
“That’s it, doll. Look at those tits bouncing for me. Look how your pussy’s creaming all over my dick.” His thrusts picked up speed, deeper, harder, the wet slap of skin echoing obscenely. “You think any of those Vought sluts could take me like this? No. Only you. This body was built for me.”
Your arms started to shake. Pleasure coiled tight in your belly, but he wasn’t letting you tip over yet. He pulled out suddenly, spun you around, and lifted you onto the edge of the nearby dresser so you were still facing the mirror sideways. Then he was back inside you in one brutal thrust, your legs wrapped around his waist.
“Eyes on us,” he panted against your neck, biting down just hard enough to mark. “See how fucking gorgeous you are when I’m ruining you.”
He fucked you like he was trying to prove a point, deep, punishing strokes that made the dresser knock against the wall. Sweat slicked your skin. Your moans turned into broken cries of his name. Every time your eyes fluttered shut, he’d grip your jaw and force them open again.
“Say it,” he demanded, voice ragged. “Tell me what you are.”
“I’m, fuck, Ben, I’m yours,” you gasped.
“Louder. Tell the mirror how pretty you look getting fucked stupid.”
“I look pretty,” you sobbed, the words finally breaking through the doubt. “I’m pretty, god, please!”
That was all it took. He slammed into you harder, thumb pressing firm on your clit, and the orgasm crashed over you like a wave. Your whole body seized, walls fluttering around his thick length as you came with a sharp cry, eyes locked on your wrecked reflection, lips swollen, hair wild, skin glowing with sweat and marks from his hands.
Ben followed right after with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and spilling deep inside you, hips stuttering through the aftershocks.
For a minute, the only sound was both of you trying to catch your breath. He stayed buried inside, arms wrapped around you like he wasn’t ready to let go yet. His lips brushed your temple, surprisingly gentle.
“You listen to me,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Next time that voice in your head starts lying, I’m dragging you right back here. Gonna fuck you in front of this mirror until the only thing you believe is how goddamn perfect you are. Got it?”
You nodded, pressing your face into his neck. “Got it.”
TAGS ⋆𐙚 ̊.