while i was enjoying the comfort of my queen sized bed, i thought of something.
reader who invites the 141 to stay at their house for vacation.
you let the team sleep in the guest room and the living room, giving the team everything they could need and then some.
when it’s time to turn in for the night you let the team know where your room is and remind them that if they need anything just let you know!
the team reassures you that they will and everyone goes to bed in their respective places.
only for the you to wake up to the entire team sleeping in their huge ass bed, simon and price on both sides, johnny laying on top of simon like a human blanket and gaz is sleeping on top of your legs.
turns out they got a lil jealous that you had that huge ass bed to yourself and they just couldn’t let you sleep all alone.
When you gave your coworker your address, you expected it to be used in emergencies. Not...whatever this is.
"Sir...what the actual fuck?" You grimace, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
You're still stood in your ratty, oversized pajamas you alwayd wear. Blanket wrapped around you, the pink bunny slipped ghost bought you the only thing keeping your toes from freezing. Blearily, you look at the clock "it's one in the morning. On a weekend. On my leave."
Stood in the middle of your living room, cloaked in shadows without bothering to turn the lights on. Gaz tilts his head, then goes right back to very loudly sweeping the floor.
"....right. awesome. Glad you're happy, kyle." You huff, turning into the kitchen to flick on the light.
It's not...unusual for gaz to get like this. You've seen it maybe twice before on base. Once he spent the entire night running laps, the other you found him after dark in the gym.
You learned that he gets restless. Enough so that he breaks in to your apartment to clean the place.
You brew some coffee for you and tea for him, hoping to level out the playing fields a bit. You emerg with two warm cups, mumbling "tea, kyle. With honey, the kind you like."
He doesn't respond, of course, so you tuck yourself into the corner of your couch and wait. Kyle has moved on to dusting the walls. Vaguely, you wonder if he ever cleans anyone else's apartments.
"Come sit with me," you croon when he finally pauses to sip at the drink. Gaz stares blankly for a moment, and you watch as he slowly slips back into his body, eyes wrinkling in that subtle smile. "You've worked hard enough."
You wouldn't know it, but just being close to you helps him feel better, helps ground him. Your presence on the couch while he cleaned...it helped more than he'd admit.
Kyle falls asleep with his face mushed into your shoulder, and through the curtains you watch the sunrise. It's...nice.
Immortal!ghost who crawls out of that grave himself meeting immortal!reader....
He meets you on the field of war, wearing enemy colors and bashing in the skulls of one of his best soldiers. That alone is worth a bullet from him, but the thing that really gets ghost is the magic pouring off you.
It's something that took ghost years to notice after his original death. The magic that subtle flowed from him, like the quiver of hot air above a burning fire. Invisible forces twisting in the face of war power.
You are immortal, the same as ghost.
You sense it on him, too, and you smile.
After the ensuing fight that left ghost with thirteen stitches alone the side of his torso, he will learn that you are not the soldier you wear the name of. That you parade around into danger out of sheer boredom.
Ghost has to capture you. It's bone-deep ache. The desire to keep himself something that will truly understand him.
It's as if that moment were the catalyst, because now ghost sees you everywhere.
On the field most often, yes. Though sometimes he swears he can see that faint shimmer in the middle of a crowd, or he catches a glance at your face in the shadows.
You are just as intrigued by him as he is by you. The only question is who will become the mouse and who will become the cat.
I have no idea if this is intentional but you’re ghost being like “I nailed that social interaction” reminds me of Hasan Piker lol.
Could be a total coincidence! I just found it funny
Actually it is a direct reference ( ￣▽￣) that giant man is so socially inept hehe
Which reminds me, ghost is definitely the kinda guy to "calculate" his hugs. He didn't get much practice hugging people other than Tommy growing up, and Tommy liked to be crushed in a hug.
Yes, he absolutely sent gaz to the hospital with a broken rib after a hug. Price was furious and ghost spent three weeks in the middle of the dessert gathering info for it.
Now he has a habit of approaching you asking for a hug. You have no idea if you're his test subject or if he only asks for hugs from you because you don't tease his methods. Usually either too tight or too loose, and all his hugs feel like he's trying to escape.
Still, the giddy smile on his face when he pulls away from a certificate "good" hug is too good to say no to.
No thoughts just reader being so reluctant to take ghost home...
You've been kinda-maybe-dating for nearly a month now. It's about time you take him to your apartment, you can tell after the third time he asks "where are we going tonight, love?" That he's dissapointed when you say his.
"Do you not trust me?" He finally huffs one day, half-curled into your side while some match neither of you care about plays on screen.
It's not because you don't like him. You care more about ghost than you have any reason to. You're terrified of rejection, but your own fear is hurting both of you anyways. "It's....i trust you, simon."
"Then what, love?" Simon rolls to prop up on his elbows and really look at you.
"It's...i..." you bite the inside of you mouth, twist around your anxiety and spit it out "I still have stuffed animals on my bed!"
Silence. You brace for the mocking laughter that you always hear.
Feeling ghost slip off the bed hurts more than you want to admit. You blink up at the ceiling and try not to cry. It's fine. He can think you're stupid and childish, you don't care, you still love him and—
"Here. Open your eyes." You do. Plastic, black beaded eyes stare back. Cupped in scarred hands is a small cat plushie, body sagging from beans, fur a little dulled. Well-loved. You look past it to stare at ghost, stunned.
"This is Mr. Kitty." He tells you. Gently, ghost scoots right back to your side and sits the plushie in your hands "I've had him for...years. he means a lot to me."
Oh. You try to imagine ghost, this giant of a man curled in bed with the tiny kitty plush next to his face.
"...I have a cat plushie." You tell him, belatedly fishing your phone out and trying to ignore the tightness in your throat at such easy acceptance.
You spend the rest of the night looking at photos of your plushie collection with ghost. He likes the cats the best, has strong opinions about sanrio characters, and insists on seeing them soon.
You find you don't really mind the thought of that.
Thinking about soap with ace!reader who isn't sex repulsed but certainly isn't interested in being touched down there.
You love johnny, your roomate and maybe–boyfriend, and you love watching him enjoy himself. Mostly that means him spending four hours straight soldering...something, or watching a show with him on the couch.
Sometimes it also means this.
"Fuck— fuck, thank you—" soap whines into your neck, desperately grinding against your thigh on the couch. Absently, you play with the remote for the vibe in his ass, splitting your attention with the movie on screen.
"You're cute like this," you tell him, turning the vibe to the highest setting to watch him gasp and jerk. "Yknow, I saw someone strap a wand to a boot online yesterday. Seems like your kind of thing."
"Mmmhhh!! Please, please– I'd make it if you let me—" soap tries to bargain, fucked out and dizzy at the thought of it. Despite what others may assume, soap is embarrassingly easy to please without taking your clothes off.
He never once pressured you to do anything with him, and it took him months to make the connection between you not wanting "proper" sex to you being ace. Maybe that's why you feel so comfortable now, doing these things with him knowing it's never a precursor for more.
"Yes–! Mhhh yes, thank you, love you–!" Ah. He came.
You leave the vibe on until he starts squirming uncomfortably, only turning it off to laugh "were you serious about the boot? I think you'd look nice on your knees for me."
You laugh again, louder, when soaps hips give an involuntary grind into your thigh.
Now imagine axolotl mer!reader being placed with salamander mer!ghost because his tank is the only one set up to your needs....
The sanctuary workers assume it will be fine, ghost has never been aggressive towards other mers, only the occasional staff member. You should get along well...right?
Except ghost takes one look at you, much smaller than he is with your external gills and makes the logical conclusion that you're a weird mer pup.
Now this strange new mer won't leave you alone, always circling around you and trying to curl over you when you sleep. He keeps calling for a pup even though there's clearly not one in the tank! Though...him bringing you food so often is nice...maybe you like him.
The workers, on the other hand, are coming to loathe ghost for the simple fact he refuses to let any of them near you. His instincts tell him to keep the pup safe after all, it doesn't matter of the pup is his or not!
How the hell they'll get him sedated for that surgery he needs, they have no idea...
Riding ghost past overstimulation while Gaz fucks his mouth deep into his throat while he sobs about both those things makes my brain go brrrrrr
Yeah!!!! Love me some ghostgazreader where ghost can just completely let go because he trusts you both to take care of him🥺
He would never usually be so vulnerable where he isn't leading in some way, but with you he goes soft and pliant, exposes his belly to you. Ghosts favorite positions are the ones where he can just lie there.
Of course you and gaz love that fact. Between the three of you gaz wants the most control in bed, so having two partners more than happy to follow his direction? Dream come true.
Sometimes, when gaz isn't feeling all himself and doesn't want to directly participate, he sits himself on the nice comfy chair in the living room and tells you exactly how to touch ghost. Sucking him off, riding him, fingering him until he cries...
Aghgggh woah @///@ thats good. Hard at work now ig goddamn
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 (MINORS DNI) BUCKY BARNES doesn’t use his metal hand during sex with you… unless he’s jealous.
he knows you can handle his metal arm, you love it so much that he knows you would love it if he used it during sex— but he never does. he never uses it because he doesn’t want to risk anything. he’s been told nothing will happen, maybe be gentle but he never pushes it…
until bucky sees your pretty little self flirting with some other dude at the bar you two were visiting— he didn’t even know if you were flirting, but you were smiling hard enough and the other dude was looking at you too flirty for him to handle. he doesn’t make a scene in public, only wrapping his arm around you… but at home, he breaks.
your legs were spread out on the bed as your forearms kept you up; watching as bucky spit on your cunt.
“you wanna flirt with him, mhm?” he challenges, leaning in and presses kisses to the inside of your thigh— his right (non metal) hand rubbing up and down your sobbing folds. “so wet f’me but so fucking happy to be around him.”
you whimper at feeling his hand, legs shaking as his body kept them open. “buck— buck— i-i wasn’t flirting with him… just k’keeping conversation— oh!” your words get cut off when he presses two of his normal fingers into you— not completely, but just the tips, just to tease you.
he frowns, leaning in again and finally pressing a kiss on your cunt. “i know you weren’t flirting and that makes it worse; your poor pretty self being flirted with because men can’t handle themselves…” he whispers, licking a strip in between your folds while at the same time, his fingers don’t go any further, in fact they retract, his right hand implanting on the bed right by your forearms.
moans fill the bedroom as he licks up and down, bringing his left hand up as you moan for him. “b-bucky! oh fuck!”
bucky looks up at you as he puts the metal hand close to your cunt— and you can immediately feel the difference in coldness at the sensation— it makes your eyes snap open and look down at him. fuck. no he wasn’t. “let’s see if this pussy can handle my other hand…” he whisper.
you shudder as your right hand reaches down into his short hair, watching with both anticipation and nervousness— it’s just fingers… just a pair of metal fingers. “buck— baby, i-i don’t think i can handle it.” you try to say but the moans of him licking your cunt again break it up again.
he frowns in between your thighs, glee in his eyes that only comforts you. “oh but baby, you always tell me you want ‘em… always asking me to use them… so why not? since this pussy needs a reminder on who she belongs to.”
oh fuck him. your mind internally tells itself. you try to not encourage it... but your pussy flutters at just the right time as he lines up the first finger— his middle, with your folds, feeling your slickness against the cold grey metal of his finger.
he looks up at you as he presses another kiss to your clit. "i'll go gentle, promise, sweetheart." he says; a tonal difference from how he was just speaking— even when this dickhead is jealous, he still is checking to make sure.
you nod your head in understanding, threading your fingers through his brown hair as you begin to feel his slow metal finger insert inside of you. instantly; your body feels the coldness. his arm always ran cold for some reason, he never felt it but everyone who has touched the outside has always said it was cold as fuck... and you fucking shiver the moment his finger presses into you, each inch of his finger disappering into your cunt.
"there you go... good girl, good fucking girl taking my finger... taking it like a champ." he moans, watching with almost awe as your pussy sucks his finger right in.
"it's- it's 'o-so cold, buck." you moan, throwing your head back as your fingers can't help but tug on his hair in response, your other hand grabbing his right forearm.
he chuckles, licking your cunt again, from his finger to the top and back down, moaning at the taste of you. "don't worry baby, it will warm up in this pretty pussy... now, let's see if this girl can handle more than just one."
masterlist is here! click here for more!
ⓘ KENTLUV3R’S WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and don’t repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!
cw: watching of porn, ben is referred to as dad[dy], dumbification, toys, ben is nasty nasty, ben also does not know how tf to use technology, fingering, cockwarming, 2.6k wc (meant for this to be a tiny blurb)
a/n - because I'm gross this came out as more soft/dad ben"
"Y'ever watch porn, doll?" Ben asked, interrupting the comfortable silence while you came down from the joint you shared earlier.
"Huh?" you said stupidly from your spot at the foot of the bed, brain still foggy from the drug.
"Do you ever watch porn." He punctuated each word to an extreme degree, obviously not feeling like repeating himself again.
Your face started to warm. "Sometimes? Why do you ask?"
"Because I wanna know what you watch." He patted the space beside him on the bed, leaving little room for argument. Your stomach felt like it was twisting on itself, unsure if you should be excited or very, very, nervous.
Ben reached to the side of the bed, pulling out a laptop.
You looked at him in disbelief, him pulling out a fucking 15 inch macbook pro to scroll on twitter not quite feeling real.
"Are you serious? Do you not have a phone or something?"
"I have one. Bookmarks on the computer are easier, though."
You looked at him incredulously, all talks of porn pushed from your mind. "You're fucking insane."
"Picture's better on this one. And I made cum guzzler upload all my old videos on this. Modern technology is really quite amazing," he finished with a lopsided, shit-eating smirk on his face. "Don't even get me started on all the improvements made on sex toys. Now you don't have to worry if your vibrating buttplug is gonna fucking explode."
You shook your head in a pitiful attempt to clear it, not quite knowing how to respond. He patted the spot beside him again, an impatient look on his face. You rolled your eyes and started slinking up the bed, figuring he might lose interest in the porn quicker if he's impatient before it even starts.
"Don't try to distract me," he said, his sense annoyingly astute. "Won't get out of this one by shakin' your tits in my face."
He opened the laptop, grumbling when the password screen popped up.
"Thought I disabled this thing," he muttered, typing the letters of his password using only his index fingers.
"For a man so good with your hands you're really having trouble with that keyboard."
"Watch it," he said sharply, finally unlocking the device. Unsurprisingly, it opened to a video of a woman painted in cum with nipple clamps on.
"Since you're the pro, maybe you should just choose what we watch." You meant for your voice to sound light, helpful, totally free of any ulterior motives, but ben saw through it immediately.
"I don't think so. Y'know you're only makin' me more curious, right?"
You huffed, finally settling against his shoulder. Your fingers danced along the trackpad, resigned to your fate and trying to find something halfway-decent to watch.
"Do you want me to narrate or..." your voice trailed off, hoping he would fill in the blank for you.
"Nah just browse." His fingers slipped down the front of your panties, resting possessively against your cunt. "I'll know what you like."
You scrolled through the feed, not finding anything too interesting. Even though his hand was on your cunt he kept his fingers to himself, his other hand lazily rubbing at his hardening cock.
"C'mon, doll. Don't be shy. Not watchin' anything I haven't done before. Know you like plugs, huh? Wanna find some of those?"
His voice was reassuring in a way you haven't heard before, and if you didn't think about it too hard the tone made you melt. You nodded against his shoulder, letting him navigate for a moment.
"Jesus, no wonder you're outta practice. Why do you need porn when you get leaky from dad offering a little help?"
You squeezed his bicep with your free hand, not wanting to look at him while you felt yourself getting worked up into a little puddle.
"Christ, babydoll. This is pathetic, even for you. Can't tell if you're getting excited about the video or a little attention." He shook his head, looking resigned to what he had to do next. His hands gripped the underside of your thighs, holding them up and out so his cock could rest on your cunt. With absolutely expert precision he notched his tip against your slit, groaning as he slowly pushing himself in your tight, unprepped pussy.
"Pussy like a fuckin' slip 'n slide. Fuck. Desperate little thing like you? Don't know why I thought I'd be able to tell the difference between you gettin' horned up at the thought of fuckin' your dad or the video."
You whined, his words sounding like background noise to the way his cock was stretching you open. He was so big you felt like you were being torn open, and you prayed for the feeling of his hips against your ass to tell you that you'd taken it all. The pain only eased when he gently started fucking himself in, obviously impatient with letting you sink down naturally. He nipped at your neck, the drag of his teeth a welcome distraction from the feeling of being split open. When, mercifully, he bottomed out, he banded one arm around your middle and grabbed the forgotten laptop with the other. He situated it on your lap, his jaw resting on your shoulder so he could get a good view.
"There ya go, doll. Now I can feel your little cunny squeezin' around me when she gets excited."
You swallowed, feeling way too exposed. You started scrolling again, your body still acclimating to his massive girth. You were on his account, and right off the bat everything was so extreme. You cuddled in closer to bed, feeling small and a little bit uncomfortable with what you were seeing on the screen.
"Still want some help?" His voice was back to that soft tone, the one apparently reserved only for when you're watching porn together, and you nodded against his chest. "Too little for some of this stuff, huh? Dad should know that those innocent little eyes aren't ready to see big girls get torn up like that."
Like the pro he is he found an account that was more your speed, and you settled into him while you took back control. You watched some all the way through, feeling moderately entertained by the little plugs and hair pulling and spanking, but you felt your pussy pulse when you found a video of a girl all tied up with a vibrator and anal hook.
"Jesus, sweetheart. You really do like bein' treated like a piece of fuckin' meat."
Your hips canted against him, seeking friction now that you were worked up.
"Oh you really like it," he said, voice dripping in condescension while his fingers found your clit. "Tried to help you out and find you something cute but you want the fucked-up shit, huh? Just gotta get dumb enough to let yourself enjoy it."
You whimpered, the friction of his fingers against your sensitive nub making your eyes droop as heat spread throughout your body.
"Keep your fucking eyes open," he instructed, not letting you float through his touch like you normally did.
A hand came into frame, spanking the girl, and with each impact she bucked and writhed, only succeeding in stretching herself out more. The hook was attached to a collar, so every time she tried to hide the hook was forced deeper. The vibrator was resting in her pussy, keeping her dripping and ready but still on the edge.
"You'd like that, huh? Bein' chained up with somethin' pushin' it's way up your ass?" Ben murmured into your ear, his strokes on your clit slow but consistent. In an overwhelming display of restraint he kept his cock still inside of you, the only stimulation the gradual growth and the way it jumped after you squeezed.
Giving yourself away, again, your muscles contracted at his words.
"Christ, you're wet. Thinkin' about daddy treating you like a whore has my little girl all worked up. Cute."
You tried to keep your hips still, but the press of his cock and his rough fingers made you buck. The arm around your stomach tightened, and the pleasure on your clit was traded for a harsh slap against your cunt.
"Better not be squirming because you're bored, doll. Happy to find something to keep you more entertained."
"No, daddy," you responded quietly, the antsy-ness gone with the lack of stimulation. "May I please have your fingers again?" Your voice was positively angelic, desperate to trigger the usually-dormant paternal need to take care of you.
"You have hands, gotta practice at some point. Or are you so dumb already that you forgot?"
You huffed, hand slinking down your body knowing you'd been beat. The hand that was just rubbing in your slick started tweaking your nipple, pulling and twisting in a way that sent all your thoughts outside of your needy clit scattering.
Your fingers found your cunt, your breath hitching when you felt how wet you were.
"Told you that you're makin' a creamy fuckin' mess down there, honey." His voice was tight, and he started gently rolling his hips. "Can't believe you get this worked up over a little video."
You felt like you could cry in relief from feeling his cock move inside of you, and you rubbed at yourself desperately and kept your eyes locked on the screen so he would have no reason to stop.
"Keep scrolling," he instructed, keeping a slow, easy pace. "Wanna see what you'll watch when your brain is half-gone."
Your eyes flicked over to meet his, and he gave you a tiny, encouraging nod.
You kept swiping down, hoping you could find something he'd let you cum to. You stopped on a girl who was taking two dildos, one in each hole, with a clothespin clamped on her swollen clit.
"Yeah, that's nice and cute. Normally too smart to enjoy this shit, huh? Too much of a feminist or whatever? You say you think with that thing between your ears, but get some cock in you? Get you needin' your dad? Promise you're not thinkin' with anything that's not between your legs."
You circled your clit furiously, and his words made your cunt pulse around his cock. He was fucking you in earnest now, and you had to hold the side of the laptop to keep it from falling off of your sweaty body. You felt hot and shaky all over, and the tightness in your belly didn't help the overstimulation.
"Don't fuckin' stop, doll. Wanna see how you came before you had dad to take care of you."
"I'm trying," you whined, your hand and brain feeling absolutely fucking exhausted from all of the choice ben was putting on you. Sometimes he edges you when he's pleasuring you, and he would definitely put on something too extreme for you, but at least then it's not your responsibility. You can just relax, knowing that you have someone else caring and deciding for you and it might hurt now, but it's gonna feel real good in the end.
"Oh, poor baby. So fuckin' useless you can't even cum without dad's help anymore?"
You sniffled, trying to prevent this from becoming a thing, and just put your aching fingers in your mouth. Your clit burned and pulsed from the dichotomy of the sensations, and the slightly bitter taste on your tongue made you immediately regret your decision. You rested your head on ben's chest, preparing yourself for the chance that he would just plug you up for tomorrow and put you to bed all needy.
"Callin' uncle, huh? Want dad to be the one to train this little cunny to love porn?" His finger left your nipple, and you held your breath in the hopes that he would put it somewhere else. "You've been such a sweet little thing tonight that I suppose you deserve it."
You keened when his thick finger rested on your clit, and it broke into a moan when he started working you in a way only he knew how.
"Gotta keep your eyes open, doll. Need that empty little head payin' attention." His voice was thick with arousal and exertion, and the slapping of skin was getting to be obscene.
"Yes, daddy," you whined, jaw falling slack at the way the threads of pleasure pulled all throughout your limbs. You kept your eyes locked on the video, uncomfortably conscious of the way the girl was starting to twitch the exact same way you were, except her daddy wasn't nice enough to touch her clit. He flicked at the clothespin but otherwise kept her wanting, and you really hoped ben wasn't taking notes. Your stomach started clenching in anticipation, and you felt the heat sear it's way through your muscles.
"Wait," ben bit out on your ear, being gentler on your clit while keeping his thrusts at the same reckless pace. "Gotta have this little pussy squeeze out my load. Clench tight for me." He groaned when he felt your tired pussy squeeze him, and gave you back the friction you needed. "Don't you dare fuckin' relax. 'M not afraid to slap at your little cunt while I pump you full."
"Okay," you whimpered, your core already feeling fatigued. You clenched around him until you felt your orgasm waiting, needing an inch of relaxation to push through.
"Daddy," you whined, the desperation clear in your voice. " 'm trying but it hurts."
"Three," he started, his intentions clear. "Two... one."
The moment you gave your body permission your orgasm crashed through you, whiting out your vision and straightening your limbs. The only part of you that seemed to function was your cunt that was furiously pulsing around ben's cock, squeezing him tight and milking out every drop. He groaned low in your ear, keeping you impaled even as you tried to push him out.
"Fuck, she's strong. Felt like you were trying to wring me out."
You moaned, not feeling capable of coherent thought while your pussy still sporadically seized up around his cock. Uncharacteristically, ben started landing little kisses on your shoulder in a way that felt almost reverent. You normally only got that from him before he filled you up.
"Have I told you," he paused, "how fuckin' precious you are? Feelin' you drip over a few little videos and my approval... you're the sweetest damn thing I ever got my hands on.
Despite your temporary paralysis, your lips twitched into a small smile, and you soaked up the feeling of pride radiating from his chest.
"Moan the loudest when you take it up the ass, too," he unnecessarily added in an appreciative voice, choosing to ignore your grumbles about 'making everything dirty'
girl i had to reread the pet play with dean and ben it was just too good. the ending of pavloving has me in a loop. imagine the first time you cum just from being shocked??? imagine what that shit does to them??? literally they’re shocking the shit out of you, just letting you hump the air with your legs trembling and this blissed out look on your face from the pain because they’ve completely twisted you into being this giant masochist!!! i think they’d get another shock collar with a higher voltage (or if they can’t find one, tweak the collar to inducing a higher voltage). i think it’s the only time demon!dean is soo proud of his babygirl 🥹
!!!!!!!!! They would be absolutely wrecked the first time you cum just from being shocked. Dean would be giving you belly scratches and calling you his good little puppy, half genuinely proud of you and half just trying to reenforce the behavior even more. It would be such a groundbreaking orgasm too; pleasure racing along your whole body while your clit is still throbbing with need and ready for another one. They'd be so obsessed that they need it on video. Ben filming, fingers rubbing in your mouth and hair while Dean's busy with the remote, shocking you and keeping you in a prolonged state of tension. Your whole body is tight, muscles clenching with each shock and leaning on Ben's hand so you don't top over. Your neck would be all red too, tender to the touch but a hurt they would actually tend to. Normally Dean just likes to watch you hurt, but you've been so good for them that it's only fair to get you a cool rag for your neck and a few of his rare kisses. He doesn't kiss you often because he prefers to watch, but when he does it's deep and filthy; his hand gripping your jaw to keep it open and where he wants you while his tongue is licking all over your mouth, too aggressive and dominating for you to try and do anything back. Also dean fixing up the collar using his car tools... yeah. He'd make you watch and help to show you how he does care for you; he just wants to train his baby up so she likes what he likes :(. He needs you to cum from Ben's cock in your ass and him shocking your neck like a madman. He loves watching you whine and squeal and beg so much that he'd rather watch than touch you himself. When there's nothing plugging up your pussy he can watch how you leak onto the floor from a little pain. That's a good fucking video. You on your haunches while Ben takes your ass and shoves his hand down your throat, pussy dripping on the ground while Dean shocks you and films how you come apart a little more with each one. He'll go until you're full of cum and literally twitching.
"Now you're fuckin' learning, sweetheart. Just gotta let us train you to like it like the bitch you are."
I just know soldier boy and demon!dean would get along so much, especially when it comes to dp their doll, like imagine them both team tagging their pretty little girl and fucking her silly until she's nothing but a blubbering mess with their cum dripping out of her holes. Everything its just ahh- 😩🤤 (am I too sick to think about this?)
Also what are your thoughts on this?
I think I am creaming at seeing your vision!
♱ ... soldier boy x reader x demon!dean ... ♱
18+ MDNI
cw: dp w anal, dean is really mean, spitting, daddy kink
They'd be so fucking mean about it. Like... somehow Ben would be the nice one? At least he knows not to break his toys. Ben makes it known that he's taking your ass because at least he (mostly) preps you for it. Ben would be laying on the bed with you on top of him, back resting on his chest, and Dean would be on his knees driving into your pussy and locking your ankles around his neck. He has one forearm banded around the tops of your thighs to haul your pussy back onto his cock, other hand locked around your neck to keep you quiet. One of Ben's hands would be shoved deep in your throat and the other would be rubbing at your clit, just enough to keep you relaxed so you can take them but not enough to push you over the edge. You feel like you're in orgasm purgatory, the pleasure mixed with the pain too much to stand but not enough for a climax. Ben knows that the second your orgasm is over you'll feel done, and he wants to keep you whiny and needy and sweet for as long as he can.
"Takin' us like a champ, kid," Ben cooed in your ear, smirking when you whined.
"A dirty fucking whore is more like it," Dean grunted, pausing his ruthless thrusts to land a glob of spit right on your pussy. You writhed as the wetness slid from your clit down to his wetness, squealing around Ben's fingers when Dean sank his cock back in you. They fucked you totally randomly, and you couldn't catch on to enough of a pattern to ever brace yourself or find your footing. Ben's finger on your clit was the only beacon of light, keeping you mostly on the side of pleasure rather than pain. Ben fucked into you slowly, lazily, letting Dean do most of the heavy lifting. He hammered into you like a man possessed, his cock reaching deep enough in your cunt to feel him in your stomach. You were totally full of them, and could feel them massaging at the wall between your ass and pussy from both sides.
"Pussy's squeezin' at me like you need to cum. Can you do it yourself or do you need your daddy's help?" Dean taunted, trying to see if you were going to beg Ben for your release. It was nothing you hadn't done before, but playing exactly into Dean's hands you shook your head, a new wave of determination hitting you.
"Aww, gonna try to be a big girl now?" Ben soothed, voice dripping with condescension.
You nodded, still unable to speak with the way Ben's fingers were shoved down your throat and experimentally rolled your hips as much as your conundrum would allow.
"Look at that Dean. Treat her like she can hang with the grown-ups and she'll act like it, too. How fuckin' sweet."
"Yeah? It seems like she also acts like a goddamn anal addict when you treat her like one."
To test Dean's point Ben thrusted up in you extra deep, his thick base stretching and tugging at your rim while the tip brushed far enough up to make you jump. His fingers started drawing tighter circles with his new rhythm, making you whine around his hand before you could realize what a bad idea that was.
"That's what I fuckin' thought," Dean grunted, keeping up his brutal pace. "Can't wait to feel you squeeze the hell outta me when you cum all fuckin' full."
"Yeah, you've earned it, huh doll? Took two big dicks like the needy little thing you are."
You nodded enthusiastically, figuring that agreeing didn't count as begging.
Ben kept the pressure on your clit, feeding the fire of pleasure growing in your belly. It spread through your limbs, and when it broke you felt your whole body tense up, vision going white and teeth clamping down on Ben's hand. Their cocks felt so much bigger through the haze of pleasure, the way your muscles tightened making them force their way back in your messy holes.
Ben shoved himself deep, finger still dragging you through the aftershocks while he bit at your neck and pumped your ass full. Dean wasn't far behind, the fluttering of your pussy pulling him into his high while he squeezed your neck and kept himself sheathed inside. You kept writhing, feeling impossibly overstimulated from the way you were sandwiched between their bodies and full of their spend.
"Jesus, doll. Never felt you milk my cock like that without the fuckin' waterworks."
Ben kept his fingers jammed down your throat, keeping you nice and still for them.
"Took us like a good and proper whore, baby. Guess you are good for somethin'."
a/n - no tears in this one but ben and demon dean will be back don't you worryflo
cw: age gap relationship. ben being a asshole. perv reader.
you were staring at soldier boy like he was a saint, and he wasn't even naked.
butcher and hughie had left the two of you, going on some "too dangerous and complicated" mission for the ladies (butcher's words), and besides, someone had to stay with ven anyway. no sane person would let a ticking time bomb like him be left unattended in a world he didn't understand.
so here you were. ben was sprawled on the couch, bored, flipping through channels, and you stood in front of him, leaning against the wall. your gaze roamed his figure – since pulling him out of the box in russia, the boys had dressed him in more civilized, modern clothes, including those damn gray sweatpants that hugged everything.
his legs were spread wide, giving you a good view of his cock pressing against the cotton material. you were sure he wasn't wearing underwear underneath, which made your body heat up even more at the thought of you having such easy access to him.
god, you were acting like a pervert.
ben looked up from the tv screen at you, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. you looked down at the floor, trying to ignore his quiet snort.
"don't stare at me like that, just come here, doll. i don't bite. unless it turns you on."
you swallowed hard but approached anyway. he was a fucking soldier boy, after all. you couldn't say no to him. you stood between his legs, and ben grabbed your waist with one hand, pulling you closer. you propped one knee on the empty spot on the couch, right next to his crotch, a crooked smile appeared on ben's face.
"you know, i've fucked so many women, but never one of them looked at me the way you did. like i was some kind of god or something. although...maybe there was one in—"
"can i suck you off?"
the words were out of your mouth before you could think them through. your mouth fell open in pure shock as you realized what you'd said. ben just scowled at you, patting your hip.
"s-sorry, i didn't mean to...—"
"now, now. you're not getting out of this, doll. get on your knees."
✦Read on aO3! - Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist✦
✦summary: ben starts acting rather strange. being quiet. hitting on you less. making sure you eat. you're worried, even though he doesn't want you to be. you never could've guessed the reason why.✦
✦warnings/tags: Soldier Boy x female!reader, no use of y/n, no description of reader, age gap (he's a hundred), light angst, softer!ben in a way (as soft as he can get lmao), canon divergance, pining, plot to earn the smut (panty stealing/kink, posessiveness, teasing, messy sex, size kink, dry humping, sex pollen, stripping, body worship, dom!Ben, blowjobs, finger sucking, masturbation, fingering, begging, nipple play, manhandling, oral f!reciving, pussy spanking, overstimulation, praise and degredation kink, clit abuse, creampie, monster dick ben, rough sex, this man is a sex god, just so many orgasms, dumbification, dacryphilia, hyperspermia, squirting), love confessions, fluff✦
✦wc: 10.3k✦
✦author's note: request! i dare to ask the question. can this man get hornier✦
Ben is being quiet. It’s incredibly worrying.
You’d been waiting for them to get back from the mission on the couch, and he’d stormed into the room like the world outside was on fire. You’d sat up with wide eyes, and he’d gone perfectly still. His face had been red, his eyes blown out, his attention almost burning through you.
“Ben?” You’d whispered, unsure if you should be running to him, or as far away as you could get. “Are you- Is there something wrong-“
He’d lurched back, blinking wildly. You’d sat up on your knees, ready to reach for him, and he’d taken a staggered step back.
“Ben-“
He’d marched into the meeting room like something was dragging him there. You’d sat on the couch for another minute, staring blankly after him until the rest of the team came up.
You sat next to him for the debrief. You always sat next to him, no matter how you protested. It didn’t matter how many times you asked not to play babysitter, you were the best at it.
It was a low bar. You just had to not egg him on like Butcher, or try to give him a free, unlicensed therapy session like Hughie. You just sat there, and glowered while he grinned, and everyone said you had Soldier Boy on a leash.
“What’s wrong with you,” you hiss during the meeting, and Ben shoots you a sideways glare.
He still doesn’t say anything. When you poke his arm, he recoils, flinching as if he’d been shot.
That’s what makes you freeze.
Ben doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t wince, and he doesn’t whine or bitch or moan. You’ve seen a rocket launcher slam into his chest, and he’d roared like an animal before throwing the thing back at the shooter. You’ve poked and slapped him almost every day for the past year. He’s only ever looked down at you with raised brows and a smirk, like you were a misbehaving bunny trying to eat his socks.
But this time, his eyes are black, and his brow is knit. There’s a tension in his jaw that makes your breath hitch, and his nostrils flare. The table whines under his grip. You’re rooted to your chair, unable to rip your gaze away. He grunts your name, low and rough, and you’re suddenly all too aware of it. The space between your bodies. Your knees aren’t pressed together under the table. His fingers aren’t grazing your arm every few moments, like they have every single day since Butcher tossed you into his den and told you to keep the old man from blowin’ something up.
There’s a heat radiating from his body that makes your head spin. It’s not the radiation or the bomb. His eyes aren’t empty and there’s no glow coming from his chest.
Ben runs warm. You’re more aware of it than he’s ever going to get to know. Ben’s always made of the kind of heat that pools between your thighs and makes your heart skip, even when you’re shoving his chest and flipping him off.
But this.
This feels like a fever.
Soldier Boy isn’t supposed to be able to get a fucking fever.
You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong again. Ben looks away, and leans back in his chair. His body is angled away from yours. Your feet bump, and he jerks away with a low, almost feral sound. You swallow, a bile rising from the back of your throat. He’s never passed up a chance to touch you.
Through the entire debrief, there wasn’t one word. He grunted in response to questions. Not an insult or crude joke, not a brag or boast about how much they’d needed him, not even an attempt to get into your pants. He’d sat, stiff and silent, then left the moment Butcher waved for everyone to fuck off.
You watch him go, your hands clasped under the table, worrying at the cuffs of your sleeves. You’re not worried about him. You don’t get worried about him. He’s an old ass with a pretty face, who spends more time trying to make you spread your legs than listening to plans for missions. But there’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach, and it feels like a ship, rocking back and forth in a storm.
“Butcher?” You call, still watching the door Ben vanished through.
Butcher turns back to the table with a groan, glaring at you in your chair. “Fuckin’- I was about to go get Waffle House, love, so if you’ll excuse me-“
“What happened?”
“What-“ Butcher cuts himself off, running a hand down his face. “You mean on that mission Ijust fuckin’ debriefed-“
“No, I mean with Soldier Boy-“
“Ah, your sweet lil Ben-“
“No- I mean- He’s not-“ You shake your head. “Butcher, I’m fucking serious, he’s being- He was quiet.”
Butcher shrugs. “So? Far as I can see, he’s learnin’ how to be a good boy.”
“But he’s not,” you say flatly. “He’s not a good boy, and- You fucking know that.”
“Maybe. But I don’t go ‘round lookin’ for holes in good things, Love-“
“Oh, fuck off, that’s all you do-“
“Well, I’m a changed man.” Butcher gives you a lazy grin. “You got anything else for me? Gonna whine about grandpa actin’ too polite?”
You narrow your eye, holding Butcher’s stare. His tone is indifferent. His posture is bored. “You know I’m right about this,” you say, cold and quiet. “Don’t try and- And fucking dance around this. Ben’s acting weird, and-“
“Ben,” Butcher coos, and you snap your mouth shut. “Ain’t that sweet-“
“Butcher, I swear to fucking God-“
“What? You’re gonna tattle on me to your Ben-“
You shoot to your feet. “I am worried about the safety of our team, you dipshit-“
“Then go talk to your sweet Benny Boo, and maybe he’ll let you tickle his balls for an answer-“
The door slams open, and you and Butcher both freeze.
You’ve never found Ben as scary as you maybe should. He’s all muscle and talk and bite, but the teeth don’t seem sharp when they’ve only ever been bared for you. He tells you he’s a breathing fucking weapon, so you should watch your mouth. You ask him why you should bother, when he’s watching it for you. He laughs in that way that only you ever get to hear, and tosses his arm around you on the couch. Not a danger. A mountain of a man, that you know better than to try and topple with nothing more than moral hands.
A mountain that you’re used to bowing down to your height. That usually looks at everyone else like he’s measuring the minimum amount of effort he can use to crush their skull, right before offering you a hand to climb. When you take it, his lips twitch. When you tell him you don’t need help, he stares at you like he’s still learning how to look.
You know what the team says about you. What they think about the peace you’ve found with Ben, and the way it lingers around him whenever you’re near. But that’s really all it is. An understanding. Something close to friendship that you’re not brave enough to name. You think about him in the dark. He tries to fuck you, and you turn him down because you know.
It would be easier to fall for him that it should be. Whatever things are broken inside of you, he’s made of a kind of gold that pours into the cracks and makes them shine. But it’s fool’s gold. It would crack under pressure, leaving you more hollow than before. He’s not the kind of man that would want to build something. You only want to build something. And so he gets nothing, and you remain empty in a way that still lets your heart beat.
And you never fear Ben.
Not until he’s looming in the doorway, glaring between you and Butcher with a white-knuckle grip on the door and a glint in his eyes.
Butcher takes a small step back. You can’t move. Ben makes a low, rumbling sound from his chest, and the air suddenly feels hot and wet. No one dares to move.
“Ben,” you breathe, and his gaze snaps to yours. “Wha- Are you okay-“
He vanishes. You feel the floor rumble, as he stomps away, leaving you and Butcher frozen in the room. You turn slowly, glaring at Butcher. He throws you a winning grin, and slips out the door before you can ask if that seemed normal. Your fingers curl on the table.
Something’s going on, and you’re going to figure out what the fuck it is.
In the days after the meeting, Ben seems to almost get better. He speaks again. He walks around and jokes and smokes on the couch like everything is normal. Butcher acts like nothing happened, but you catch MM and Hughie giving him cautious looks. Annie and Kimiko are hanging around you more, and Ben seems angrier about it than usual.
“I think we need a new dryer,” you mutter one morning, sighing when Hughie gives you a curious look. “It’s eating my underwear.”
“Eating your- What?”
“My underwear. Like- How washers eat socks.” You frown at your cereal, poking it with your spoon. “It’s all going missing, I think it’s the dryer-“
“The fuck is wrong with the dryer,” Ben grunts, dropping next to you at the table.
“She thinks it’s eating her underwear,” Hughie mumbles, watching you nervously. “Are you sure you’re not just like- Dropping it in the hall or something?”
“Yes, I- I’ve even gone back and checked, it’s all just- It’s getting eaten, I swear-“
“Well- Um-“ Hughie glances at Ben. “Has your underwear been eaten?”
“Fuck no,” Ben grunts, and you sigh.
“He doesn’t believe in the dryer.”
Hughie blinks. “What- What do you mean, doesn’t believe in it?”
“Too many fucking buttons,” Ben grumbles. “Never trust a fucking robot to do what you can do with your goddamn hands. I wash my shit in the sink.”
“Mhm,” you smile at your coffee. “And then I wash it with the machine.”
Ben glares at you. You smile in return, and his mouth twitches. You expect a smart little comment about whatever gets you touching his boxers. Instead his eyes dart to your cereal, then your mouth.
“What-“
“You’re not eating.”
You blink. “I- I was talking to Hughie-“
“Why.”
“Because- My underwear- And-“ You swallow. The room is getting hot again. Ben’s glare is almost like a laser, driving into your body. “Ben, I’m going to eat-“
He grunts, and pushes the food closer to your body. He doesn’t look satisfied until you’ve cleared the bowl. You glance at Hughie, who seems just as lost as you do.
“Um- The dryer-“
“I’ll look at it,” Ben stands up, his own coffee and bacon completely ignored. You and Hughie exchange another look.
“Ben,” you say gently. “You- You can’t even turn it on-“
“It’s just fucking buttons, I’ll figure it out-“
“But- Ben-“
He’s already walking away. You chase after him, and barely manage to stop him from ripping up the whole laundry room. You’re not sure if this is part of it. You’re not really sure of anything right now, except odd looks behind your back, and your increasingly declining supply of underwear.
You keep an eye on him, closer than you have to. You don’t want him exploding, or going feral, or getting sick. If he gets sick, you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with it.
If he gets sick, you’re going to have to watch him get pale and small, and the thought makes your gut turn into a tight, strangling fist that reaches your throat. You spend the night curled up, staring at the ceiling. You walk to Ben’s room and linger outside the door, then shake yourself and go back to your room. You’re not some foolish, doting nurse. You’re his friend, and he’s a grown man who can take care of himself.
“Are you feeling okay?” You ask him in the morning, because you can’t help it.
Ben laughs, rich and deep. “Feel like a million fucking dollars, doll.”
“Hm,” peer at him on the couch. He’s relaxed. The color on his face is back to normal, and his thigh is pressed against yours easily. Ben catches your gaze, and smirks.
“You got something you wanna say to me?”
“No,” you say quickly, and Ben laughs.
“You gonna take my fucking temperature? Ask about my sleep and my fucking smoking habits?”
Your nose twitches. “No, I’m just- You had a fever yesterday-“
Ben cuts you off with a grunt. “I don’t get fucking fevers.”
“You were sweating, Benjamin-“
“Room was hot,” he grumbles. “Don’t lose your damn head about it.”
You scowl, moving up to your knees. “I’m not- You were acting weird,” you hiss. “You weren’t talking, and you- You didn’t touch me once-“
You cut yourself off, face flooding with heat, and Ben’s smile becomes wolfish.
“Oh,” he drawls, turning in his seat. “You missed me touchin’ you?”
“I- That’s not what I said-“
“Isn’t it?” He leans forward, fingers brushing near the top of your thigh. “You want my touch, sweetheart, all you have to do is say please.”
You narrow your eyes, tipping your chin up like it can defend you. “Fuck you.”
“Don’t you want to,” he teases, and your jaw drops.
“I- You’re fucking- I hate you.”
He laughs. His fingers trace the hem of your shorts. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You’re a shit fuckin’ liar-“
“You’re a shit fucking liar.” You spit, hoping he buys the false venom in your voice. “You were sick, Benjamin.”
Ben shrugs. “And you’re givin’ me the sex look.”
Goddamn him. Every, massive, cocky inch of him, and how you can’t seem to figure out how to stop him from affecting you. “I- I am not- There’s no- No-“ You look around the room, leaning forward to hiss low enough no one will hear. “There’s no fucking sex look.”
Ben hums, looking you up and down with that dragging gaze. The one that makes your body hum in excitement, that feels like more pressure than any other man’s hands.
“Stop doing that,” you snap, and he laughs.
“You’re real mouthy this morning, aren’t you.”
You scowl, sinking back into the cushions. “I’m hungry.”
Ben goes rigid. His hand fists on his knee, and his eyes lock on yours with that gleam again. You blink, leaning slightly back. Ben’s mouth presses in a thin line, and a low grumble rolls from his chest.
“Wha- What-“
He stands up, and marches away. You don’t move, too confused to remember how. Things hadn’t been back to normal, but they’d been a stilted version of it. Then he’s gone again, leaving you with too many fucking questions and an empty couch.
You’re seconds away from following him, when he stomps back into the room with a scowl.
“Ben, what’s- Shit-“
He tosses an apple straight into your lap. You fumble with it for a second, trying to figure out if a secret code or something, then look up at him with an openly confused expression.
“I- Um-“
“Eat that,” he grunts.
You blink. “What?”
“You said you’re fucking hungry, didn’t you?” He snaps, jerking his head to the apple. “Eat.”
You stare at each other for a long moment. The apple feels heavier than diamond in your hand, but Ben’s gaze is a burning, impossible pressure. It presses down against your core and makes your thighs ache. His eyes have gone almost wholly black. He’s back to that predatory stillness. You look at the apple, then him, and slowly raise it to your mouth.
Ben watches you take a large bite, and hums in satisfaction. You chew, and his eyes gleam. A little juice dribbles down your chin, and your tongue swipes out to catch it on instinct.
He moves back. You sit up, the apple tight in your fist, and Ben stumbles backwards like you’d punched him.
“Ben, what the fuck-“
He marches away again. You’re alone again, this time with an apple instead of Butcher.
At least the apple is less judgmental, while still offering the exact same amount of answers. You stare at it for twenty minutes, before you move. Ben doesn’t come out of his room for hours, and when he does, he won’t even look at you.
And that heat. The air-waving, mouth-watering heat is back, rolling off of him like an approaching storm. No one else seems to notice it. You’d think you were going insane, if you didn’t still have that apple, tight in your fist.
“You didn’t finish it,” Ben grunts from behind you, and you yelp in surprise.
“Jesus fucking- Ben-“
You whirl around, and cut yourself off. He’s right behind you. His legs are pressed to yours, his arms braced at his side, the weight of him almost locking you against the counter. Your hold on the apple goes slack, and it thuds to the floor. Ben’s glare deepens. His brow is beaded with sweat again.
“Hi,” you breathe, and he grunts.
“You were supposed to eat the fucking apple.”
“I- I had eggs,” you say, and Ben’s jaw locks.
He takes a long breath through his nose, leaning further down. This is the kind of thing that should make you want to run. It doesn’t.
“Who the fuck made you eggs,” Ben growls, and you blink.
“Me? I- I mean- I made me eggs- And- Um-“ You scan over his red face, his black eyes, and God, all that heat is so intoxicating you might be getting dizzy. “Be- Ben?”
He grunts your name. His arms brace on either side of your body. You might be about to melt.
“Can I please check your temperature?” You whisper. “I’m getting really worried. About-“ You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and forcing the words out. “About you.”
Ben doesn’t answer. You don’t dare to look. There’s something hard and thick, poking into your upper thigh. You grab Ben’s forearm for balance, and a low, dangerous sound rumbles from his chest.
Then, suddenly, the weight of him is gone. And when you open you’re eyes, it’s almost like he was never there at all.
Hughie coughs from the dining table, and you blink at him. You hadn’t even realized he was there.
“What- What the hell was that?”
You shake your head, staring blankly ahead at the wall. “I- I don’t-“ You cut yourself off, then look back to Hughie. “You were on the mission.”
Hughie swallows. “I- Um-“
“Hughie-“
“What mission?” He says, moving to his feet. “I mean- We go on so many, it’s easy to lose track-“
You block his path out of the kitchen, and he swallows.
“Please don’t-“
“Sit,” you point back to his chair, and he obeys.
“I- I really- I think Annie’s calling me-“
“Talk,” you hiss, and Hughie swallows. “Now.”
Ben got hit with a chemical. Hughie doesn’t know what—none of them do—but you’ve got a theory.
It’s a fragile thing. The way he’s acting, how you could possibly deal with it. You walk into the kitchen in the morning and find that he’s made you eggs. The plate gets shoved towards you with a grunt. Ben doesn’t stop staring until you’ve eaten every last bite, and then he stomps away without another word. You do your laundry and catch him staring at your clothing with twitching hands. You shower that night and open the door to find him standing in the hall, his whole body tense and his mouth hanging open.
“Ben,” you say gently, and he takes another one of those stumbling steps back.
You sigh, as he vanishes down the hallway. He hasn’t had a normal conversation with you in three days. The last time you bothered to try, he’d pinned you down on the couch and stared until you whispered his name, and he ran again.
He spends most days locked in his room. He comes out to make sure you’ve eaten or follow you to the grocery store, pressing behind you in the milk aisle and glaring at anyone who comes too close.
“Do you want anything?” You ask him softly before you go to checkout, and he just stares at you. Some days he’s not even talking anymore. Last night Annie tried to walk past you both on the couch, and he snarled like a dog.
He leans down until his nose is pressed to your hairline. His lips drag over your brow, and you stare up at him, trying not to let your heart burst out of your chest. He inhales deeply, and a low rumble rolls through his chest. His hand finds your waist, massaging and kneading at the skin.
Your gaze drops down, and there it is again. The outline of his cock, tenting in his jeans. You bite the inside of your mouth. Your knees wobble, and your hand flies to Ben’s shoulder. He’s burning up, skin searing even through his shirt.
He yanks back again, eyes black and chest heaving. You sigh, and turn back to the grocery cart. You’re too used to it now. It makes you worry more.
You try to get a straight answer out of Butcher that night. It’s somehow more useless than last time.
“I know Hughie blabbed, ain’t no reason in tryin’ to talk to me-“
“You know what’s wrong with him,” you hiss, and Butcher shrugs.
“Maybe. Gonna make any fuckin’ difference to what you’re doin’?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m fucking asking-“
“Oh, like you ain’t figured it out yourself.”
You glare at him. He smirks back, challenge lining every inch of his expression.
“You gonna go put your money where your mouth is, doll?” Butcher mocks. “Or just keep whinin’ around about it?”
And you don’t have an answer. Because he’s right. You figured it out when Ben snarled at MM for offering you a cup of coffee, a boner pressing through his sweats that everyone pretended to ignore. It would take a true idiot, to not be able to figure it out.
“When did you know,” you mumble, leaning back against the counter. Butcher shrugs, watching you carefully.
“Moment it hit the fucker.”
“Where you there-“
“I was the only cunt in the room.” Butcher shudders. “He started moanin’ and gettin’ hard, it was the most disgustin’ thing I’d ever seen.”
You sigh, giving him an unimpressed look, and Butcher smirks.
“He was cryin’ for you, love. Almost had to put him back under to stop him just sprintin’ back to the house to take you. Like a fuckin’ dog.”
You blink. Your heart does a little flip that you refuse to acknowledge. “He hasn’t touched me-“
“Don’t know why,” Butcher mutters. “I thought I was gonna follow him inside and find him- Well, you know.” He winks, and you narrow your eyes.
“But he hasn’t. Which-“ You swallow, looking up to the ceiling and biting your tongue.
It’s fine. It’s fine if it’s not you he wants to do this with. Probably for the better. It helps you cling to that last shred of dignity. The sliver of an illusion, that you don’t think about him more than you think about yourself,.
“Do we think this- Can it hurt him?” Your voice is smaller than you want it to be. Butcher just shrugs.
“Ain’t gonna kill him. Probably hurts.” His lip curls. “Permanent fuckin’ blue balls. Hell don’t go deep enough.”
You sigh. “Well, what if we hire him like- a hooker-“
“Tried that,” Butcher dismisses. “Almost got punched through a damn wall.”
Your mouth opens, then closes. “What? That’s- Ben wouldn’t turn down a hooker-“
“He did,” Butcher gives you a pointed look. “And it ain’t a hooker he’s makin’ eggs for, genius.”
You blink at him. “No, that’s- That isn’t part of it-“
“You willin’ to bet his life on that?”
And you aren’t. You’re not willing to bet anything. Because it hasn’t just been boners and staring. Ben’s been feeding you, following you like all illusion of not being your personal guard doesn’t matter anymore, refusing to let you do anything that might get you hurt.
“But- If it’s just a sex chemical,” you say slowly, and he cuts you off with a raised hand.
“I ain’t holdin’ your hand through this,” he says. “You talk to him yourself, and-“ He looks you up and down, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Bring protection. We don’t need soldier tots runnin’ around the house now, do we.”
“Butcher-“
“Not just a sex chemical,” he shrugs. “And you know it.”
You do. You wish you didn’t but you do.
A sex chemical would be easier. You could climb into bed with Ben, get railed into oblivion, then collect your heart off the floor and move on. But this is more. This is possessive and targeted and that means something. Something you don’t want to know. Something you have to know.
Butcher leaves you in the kitchen to collect yourself. You close your eyes, and try to control your breath, but it’s useless against your pounding heart. He turned down hookers. He moaned your name.
If this means nothing, you’re going to fucking kill him.
If it means something, you’re ready to deal with it. You don’t think you really have any other choice.
“Ben?” You knock on the door once, forcing your voice to steady. “Ben, can you please- We need to talk.”
He doesn’t answer. You weren’t expecting him to. The knock was more of a polite courtesy, then a question. You steel yourself, holding the doorknob with shaking fingers, and push into his room.
You barely make it a step inside, before all the will is knocked out of your body. It’s as if you walked into a wet dream. One of the private, dirtiest ones that make you wake up with the sheets bunched between your legs, that make reality feel like a slap to the face.
The room reeks of sex. Salty and heady, sweat and something rich that just smells like Ben. The sheets have been ripped and tangled on the floor, the pillows tossed off the unimportant corners of the room with piles of boxer and shirt and panties.
Your panties.
Ben sits, silent and dark-eyed on the bed, completely naked. One hand is fisting on of your panties, the other is wrapped tight around his thick, red cock. It’s veiny and so big it makes you sore just to look at. It throbs in his grip, and your cunt pulses in return. White pre-cum leaking from under his thumb, and his balls sit heavy between his thighs.
Your tongue darts out over your lips, and you force your gaze to drag up. Ben’s staring at you with a vein in his brow and that same burning intensity. The heat lingers in the air, humid and electric. Sweat falls from his neck, over his broad, flushed chest. His thighs are locked, his lips parted and eyes narrowed.
You glance back to the panties in his hand and swallow. You suppose, at the very least, you were right.
“I lost those,” you breathe, and Ben grunts.
“I’ll give ‘em back later.”
You blink, then glance at the pile in the corner of the room. Ben doesn’t look away from you for a second, and a low chuckle rumbles from his chest. It sends a thrill up your spine, and you have to lean back against the door to stay upright.
“You here just to collect your panties, doll?”
You shake your head, looking back to him hopelessly. You’d had a whole speech, about how he needed you to fix this, how you knew it must hurt, how if he asks nicely, you’ll let him take what he wants. It’s misting into thin air, with every thin, fraying thread that had been holding your dignity. Ben doesn’t make it easy. His gaze rakes over your body, a strange, blurred line between worship and hunger etched over his handsome features.
You don’t know how you’re supposed to pretend like this. With all of him at your fingertips, only a few steps away. You’d prepared yourself to be a toy, but you’re a lamb to slaughter. An offering to a god who won’t take anything else, who holds your sanity like a delicate bird in his rough hands. He could destroy you, and you’re going to thank him. He could recreate you, and you’d never know a better blessing.
Ben leans back, something iron lining his words. “You should go.”
You shake your head, and his jaw ticks.
“Go.”
There’s a low, deep command in the word. You almost obey.
“Those are mine,” you breathe, nodding to the panties, and Ben sighs.
“Fuckin’ Christ- Go-“
“Why are they mine?”
The question is soft. You know he hears it, because he goes quiet again. You stare at each other for another long moment, and you take the smallest step forward. A low groan pulls from Ben’s throat. Your knees almost buckle.
“Don’t,” he gives you a look like it’s a command, but there’s something thinner under the word. Something soft.
“I- I know about the chemical,” you whisper, and Ben’s throat bobs. “You could’ve asked-“
“Ask what? For you to suck my cock? Like some limp-dick pussy who can’t handle his booze?”
Your lips twitch. “Your dick isn’t limp.”
Ben gapes at you. His cock jumps in his hand, and you take another step.
“You’re- Fucking unbelievable,” he grunts, and you laugh. “This shit ain’t funny, doll-“
“It’s a little funny,” you murmur, stopping right above him.
No part of you is touching. Every inch feels gravitational. He has to be the one to crash first.
“You turned down hookers for me,” you whisper, and Ben scowls.
“It doesn’t want hookers.”
You glance at his cock, then his tight face. “What does it want?”
He glares. You don’t back down. You never have before, and you’re not about to start now.
“Don’t be a fuckin’ tease-“
“Don’t be a dick,” you lean down. Ben’s legs part to make room for you. It’s an effort, not to just touch him. “What does it want, Ben.”
What do you want.
He hears the invisible question. His jaw works, and his eyes drop to your lips.
“I’ll fuckin’ break you,” he rasps, and you smile.
“No,” you say. “You like me too much.”
Ben’s gaze rips back up. You raise your brows, daring him to do it. To say it. To put you both out of your misery.
A low growl rips through his chest. “Go. Now.”
You don’t move, and watch as the last line of Ben’s control snaps.
He grabs you by the waist and drags you fully into his lap. You gasp as his lips smash against yours, the kiss rough and demanding. There’s so part of you that isn’t consumed by it, that doesn’t mold into his touch. Your legs spread so you can straddle his lap, and Ben grabs your ass with a grunt, forcing you up so his cock is pressed against your clothed cunt. You moan against his lips, and he presses his tongue into your mouth.
“Be- Ben-“ Your nails scrape at his shoulders, and he squeezes your ass with a grunt. “Fuck- Ben-“
“Already whining,” he mutters, dragging his free hand up to rest on the back of your neck. “Barely fuckin’ touched you are you’re already sayin’ my name like I fucked you.”
Your face burns, and Ben weaves his hand through your hair, gathering it in on fist and pushing it down to deepen the kiss. You almost don’t know what to do with yourself. His touch is hot and possessive, sending shivers through your whole body. His cock rubs against your underwear with every shift, and the pressure makes your legs spread wider. You start to grind down to chase the friction, and Ben moans, deep and low.
“That’s it,” he grunts, massaging your ass with shockingly gentle hands. “That’s a good girl. Show me what you’ve got, doll, prove that you’re gonna take this cock for me.”
You try to drag him closer, but he’s immovable. When you push, his hand moves from your ass to your lower back, pushing down so you can feel every inch of his dick, rubbing between your thighs. You make a strangled noise, and Ben chuckles. It’s an even rougher sound than before. His mouth has started to wander over your cheeks and jaw, pressing open, sloppy, kisses everywhere he can reach.
It’s almost like you’re being seduced into the same, sex-focused daze that’s taken a hold of him. The kisses light undying fires over your skin, spreading and spreading until you think you’ll die if he moves away. Ben’s started to lose focus himself, pawing at your ass like an animal and growling against your skin.
“Bennn,” you moan as his fingers graze on your inner thigh, turning your face to bury in his neck. “Mmmm- Ben- M- More-“
He growls again, and his hips slam up. It knocks the air from your lungs, and he’s not even inside you. Your arms wrap around his neck, trying to hold on as he starts to rut against your core, broken, desperate sounds falling from his lips.
You manage to lean back to look at him, and he’s thoroughly wrecked. He grabs your jaw, still rutting, and you try to smile. His nostrils flare and he kisses you again, the fervor only seeming to build as he chases his own orgasm. You hum against his lips, trying to make yourself pliant and soft, easy for him to use.
“Smell good,” he rasps against your skin, beard tickling against your neck. “Always smell so- So fuckin’ good-“
He cuts himself off with another groan, his cock twitching between your thighs. He shoves you further down, rocking his hips back and forth as he keeps trying to get there against your body.
“Gonna wreck you,” he mutters, mouthing at a pulse point. “Fuck you ‘till you can’t walk, fuck you stupid, fuck you mine.”
You moan happily, dragging your hands down his bare, thick back. The muscles ripple under your touch, and Ben moans like that touch is almost enough to set him off. You kiss over his cheekbone and beard, along his jaw, and slowly guide his mouth back to yours. He lets you lead this kiss, mindlessly focused on trying to fuck himself against your body. He’s panting so hard you’d be worried about anyone else.
He groans against your lips, clawing at your clothing with blunt nails. “Off- Get- Fuck- Get this shit off-“
He whines like a dog when you push on his chest, and you expect him not to let you up, but his grip loosens. You smile down at him, moving back to your feet, and he stares at you with a slack jaw.
“Get back here,” he growls, one hand still splayed on the back of your thigh. “Now.”
“I’m helping you,” you tease, slowly pulling down your shorts. “Say please.”
Ben’s eyes flash, and his jaw locks. You know he won’t beg. You don’t really want him to. This—the undivided, adoring attention, the way he’s staring at you like you’re the only thing he could ever possibly want in the world, when he’s spent a century of life indulging in sweet things and easier desires—is more than enough.
You sink to your knees, and he lets you. That hand on your thigh drags up to fist back in your hair, and he goes back to that predatory stillness as you rub his thighs with light hands.
“I ain’t beggin’,” he grunts, and you hum, letting your fingers brush against the base of his cock.
Ben’s hips jerk up, a moan ripping from his chest. You giggle, guiding his hand away, and he glares at you under hooded eyes.
“Something fuckin’ funny?”
“Mmm,” you shrug, wrapping your hand around his cock, and god, he’s even bigger than he looks. “I’m just… Learning.”
“Learning,” Ben echoes, the awe pushed through gritted teeth. “Jesus fuckin’- Christ-“
You lick a long, slow stripe up the length of Ben’s cock, and he tosses his head back like he’s praying.
“Holy- Fuckin’ hell-“ He tugs at your hair without actually trying to move it, biceps bulging as he tries not to overtake your mouth. “You’re- warm-“
You giggle again, pumping your fist as you kiss the tip. Ben makes a low, sinful sound, his free hand fisting at the sheets. You’ve never seen him in such control of himself. A living god that could skullfuck you until you sobbed, trying to let you lead your way. You think it’s something in the way he’s holding you like you’re made of lace instead of silicone. It makes an unbearable ache return to your core.
You take Ben in your mouth until he bumps against the back of your throat, and he groans your name so loud it must echo through the city. You work what you can’t fit in your mouth, sucking on his cock like it’s candy.
“Fuckin’- You can suck some fuckin’ cock, doll-“ He chokes out, hips bucking when you squeeze him near the base. “Best mouth I’ve ever felt- Son of a-“
His words turn to moans, and you look up at him under your lashes. He’s leaning back with a glazed eyes and veins pushing at his neck. His shoulders are tense, his abdomen flexing, and you can’t control your own hips as they start to chase relief against the air. Ben catches the movement, watching it as if he’s under a spell. His cock is heavy and pulsing in his mouth, and it just makes your cunt ache more, imagining the weight of him buried inside of you.
“Jesus, you’re a needy thing,” he mutters, his thumb dragging over the soft skin behind your ear. “You fuckin’ like this? Like choking on some proper dick?”
You whine, eyes rolling back as he presses back against your throat. You press your shoulder forward, forcing your tits further up for him to see. Ben jaw clenches, and you feel him try to not move. His pre-cum is getting thicker, and who knows how long he’d been going before you.
“Ben,” you pull off for a split second, dropping your hand to massage his balls as you kiss over the head of his dick. “Please.”
You drop back down, and he understands in a second. He uses you like a toy, pulling your head up before slamming it back down. You make your jaw slack, moaning around him with every single thrust. Your eyes roll back in your head, and the need builds and builds between your thighs.
You drag you’re hips forward shamelessly, grabbing Ben’s leg and angling your clit to rub against whatever it can reach. Ben groans at the sight, and the sound just floods between your legs.
“Shit, I can feel how fuckin’ wet you are,” he growls, and you whimper, watching him under glossy lashes. “Shit- Lookin’ at me like that, gonna make me-“
You moan eagerly, and Ben’s control snaps again.
It’s fun to see the edges of it. How the pit of his restraint is far deeper than you would’ve imagined a week ago. He tries to drag you off his cock as he cums, but you push yourself back down. It comes in thick, sticky ropes, shooting down your throat until you’re gagging and almost unable to breathe. You try to swallow, but there’s so much it falls out of your mouth like drool, dripping down your cheeks and onto your breasts.
“Jesus, thought you were gonna drown in it,” Ben pulls your dazed head off, grinning down at you. “Look at you, baby. Little fuckin’ trooper.”
You blink at him, still trying to lick the remains off your lips. You glance down to his cock, and it’s still hard. How the fuck is it still hard.
“Hasn’t been goin’ down since that shit hit me,” Ben mutters, dragging his thumb over your lower lip. “Needs it’s pussy.”
“It’s pussy?” You breathe out, and Ben sighs.
“Your pussy,” he mutters. “Needs you, smartass.”
“It needs me?”
You give him your best innocent look. He glares at you, and you just tilt your head, smiling like you’re made of honey. You sort of feel like you are. You’ve never been this gooey, just from sucking a guy off. You’ve never even liked sucking someone off.
But this is Ben. Rough everywhere, but made of tiny divets that go soft when pressed. The kind of man you can crawl into and never have a harsh hand find your body again.
He swallows, his thumb lingering on your lips. You kiss the pad of it, then the knuckle, before slowly wrapping your lips around him and sucking. Ben’s cock twitches, somehow getting harder. You don’t think you’re ever going to walk again.
Worth it.
“I need you,” he rasps, pulling his thumb away. “Feet. Now.”
He taps your nose, and you scramble up. You’ll fight him tooth and dirt when he’s fighting back. When he’s not, you can’t think of a single reason to deny him a thing.
Ben grabs the back of your thigh again, watching you with an expectant glint in his eyes. You swallow and pull your shorts down, trying not to fall over when he stares at your core like you’re showing him a treasure. His fingers dig into soft skin, and his free hand wraps around his cock, pumping slowly as you continue to strip in front of him.
You peel off your shirt, and Ben’s tongue darts over his lips. His grip on your thigh tightens, and he slowly coaxes you forward. You rest your hands on his shoulders, shoving down the bubbling, electric nerves in your chest.
“Ben,” you whisper, and he hums, dragging a massive, rough hand up your side. “E- Easy-“
“Oh, doll,” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your breast. “This is easy.”
Your legs wobble, your confidence quickly waning. The doubts start to pool like rainwater in a gutter, as Ben takes in your naked body. Maybe you weren’t the dream doll he had in his head. Maybe you pushed it too far with the teasing. Maybe he doesn’t really want you in the same, volcanic kind of way you want him.
He drags two fingers along your inner thigh, teasing the sensitive skin as he mouths at your breast. You close your eyes, trying to just breathe, and Ben chuckles.
“And you wanted me to say please,” he drawls. “Look at you, all fuckin’ sweet for me. You gonna beg for me again, baby? Or that mouth only good for sucking my cock?”
You whimper, a gush of heat flooding between your thighs.
“Yeah, you like me talking,” Ben mutters, kissing over your sensitive nipple. “Like knowing you’ve got the only fuckin’ pussy in the world that makes me act like an idiot. Pretty girl, pretty fuckin’ tits,” he sucks a dark spot on your breast, his thumb slowly dragging between the lips of your cunt. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy, wet like a whore in the summer for me.”
Ben thumbs at your slit, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking hard. His thumb drags up in the exact same moment, finding your clit and rubbing tight, unrelenting circles. You vision blurs and you stumble forwards, wrapping your arms tight around his head.
“Be- Fuck- Bennnn-“
He hums around your nipple, grazing his teeth over the perked bud. His mouth is warm and wet, his tongue flicking back and forth until you’re in a sex-addled frenzy. You press your face into his hair, gasping his name as he drags his thumb back and forth across your clit.
He wraps a massive arm around your body, fingers splaying over your back and cradling you close to his body.
“Feel that fuckin’ mess,” he drawls, kissing over your breasts. “No one else gets you this wet, do they?”
You shake your head, and Ben leans back with narrowed eyes. He slaps your pussy with a harsh little tap, and a broken cry escapes your lips.
“Do they,” he growls, and you shake your head.
“No- No-“ You try to lean down, desperate to just kiss him, to get as close as he’ll allow. “Just you, Ben, just you-“
He smirks, slaps your cunt again, and goes back to making out with your nipples. You moan, slumping over his body as the tension becomes almost painful. You don’t know what he’s getting out of this until you feel his hips rocking beneath you. His cock rubs against his stomach and your thigh, already smeared with pre-cum again. You gasp and Ben moans around your nipple, the sensation vibrating through your whole body.
“Oh- Oh my god-“ You squirm, the pressure getting unbearable. “I- I’m- Oh my god-“
You’re babbling, but you’re not sure what else there is to do. You cunt his clenching around nothing, the thick scent of Ben clouding your head as he works you like a toy. Ben nips at your nipple and pushes his thumb down hard. Your knees buckle, almost making you fall back to your knees on the carpet.
Ben’s arm around your back tightens, and he rolls you both over, tossing you back onto the mattress without even a grunt. You almost cry out at the sudden cold, the lack of Ben all around you. It only lasts a second before he grabs your ankle and drags you forward.
You’re lain on the bed, staring at Ben with an open expression. His jaw clenches and he rubs your thighs, slowly pushing your knees up to your chest. Your cunt is on full, open display to him, and your breath catches as he drags his thumb between the swollen lips of your pussy.
“Look at that,” he almost purrs. “Mine.”
You whimper when he flicks your clit again, but it quickly falls into a moan as he leans down and presses an open mouth kiss to your pussy. Your eyes roll back in your head, your hips arching to meet his chapped, full lips. Ben groans against your cunt, his grip on your legs tightening.
You’ve had men eat you out before. You’ve had them be good at it, and horrible.
Ben does it like it’s a job, and he’s never hated work a day in his life. You were already on such a thin wire that the first press of his tongue against your clit makes you snap, a cry falling from your lips and your hands flying wildly to catch a hold of something. Ben grabs them and pins them against your stomach, forcing you down into the mattress as his mouth keeps working against your cunt.
He’s open with it, moaning and sucking and pushing his tongue into your fluttering cunt as he rocks his face back and forth, dragging your orgasm out until you’re almost floating. The heat hasn’t stopped building. Every time you think you’re going to come down, Ben kisses your clit, and darts his tongue back and forth like he’s trying to get a high score of most orgasms in an hour.
Maybe two hours. You can hear the bed creaking in a steady rhythm, as Ben’s fucks down into the mattress, but then he drags another orgasm out of you, and the only thing in the world is Ben’s mouth against your cunt. The sounds he makes, the way he’s watching you under hooded, smug eyes, the way his massive back forces your legs further apart whenever you try to close them and exposes you to him further.
You writhe when your third orgasm hits, shoving at his head with weak hands.
Ben draws back, pinning your legs down to the bed and fixing you with a stern glare.
“Stay still,” he grunts, and you swallow.
“Too- Too much-“
“You want cock?” He snaps, and you nod frantically. “Only good girls get cock, baby. You bein’ a good girl when you whine?”
Your lip wobbles. Your face burns. Ben raises his brows, daring you to be a brat, and any other day you would. You’d stick your tongue out and mock him, you’d test his buttons, you’d see just what you could say, to get bent over his lap or tossed around the bed.
But there are tears streaming down your cheeks, and you’ve never been so totally aware of how empty you are. You really think the chemicals might be contagious. You really don’t fucking care.
“No,” you whisper, shame burning at your cheek and between your thighs. “I’m not.”
Ben hums, spits on your clit, and starts to rub it with a fast thumb. “You gonna be a good girl?”
You nod, and Ben smirks.
“Yeah. I know.”
He dives back down, and stars burst behind your eyes as another orgasm overtakes your body. You’re trembling and gasping for air, pulling at his hair and only earning another moan that makes your back arch. Ben laps at you through the orgasm, hips still slamming against the bed.
Then, one second, his beard his grazing over your inner thigh and his lips are pressed against the over sensitive, pulsing bundle of nerves. The next you’re face down with a thick arm around your stomach, dragging you back against Ben’s chest like a ragdoll.
“Need to get in that pussy,” he growls, dragging his cock between the lips of your cunt. “Give you this cock real good, show you who the fuck you belong to, right now.”
Ben bites and sucks on your neck, the head of his dick bumping against your clit, but he still doesn’t push inside. Your nails dig into your forearm, the wet sound of him sliding against you filling the room, and you almost don’t know what the fuck he’s waiting for.
“Please,” you breathe out, dropping your head against his shoulder and giving him your best, sweetest eyes. “Please, Ben- Fuck me.”
Another one of those feral sounds rips from Ben’s chest, and his hand drags down to press two thick fingers against your clit as he slowly pushes himself inside. The breath is knocked from your lungs at the first inch, a broken sound escaping your lips.
Ben’s free arm wraps around your neck, the bulging bicep forcing your head back further so he can kiss over your open, drooling mouth.
“That’s it,” he coos, rubbing your clit back and forth as he presses deep into your cunt. “That’s a good little slut, takin’ just what I give you, come on-“
You whimper, and Ben deepens the kiss, pressing his tongue down your throat as he pushes another inch. You clench down around him and he groans, kissing you brutally as he bullies the last few inches inside of you.
He’s so big it makes sparks dance on the edge of your vision. You’ve never been this full, every single nerve in your body all too aware of the delicious split of Ben’s cock. Between the head lock and his mouth against yours, the tears can’t stop streaming down your face. Ben growls your name, kissing a stray one near your lips, his tone a warning you can barely hear.
“Christ- You’re fuckin’ tight- Gotta- Relax-“
You can’t. You’re overstimulated and so needy you can’t think, can’t move, can’t do anything but feel the smeared arousal between your thighs, the drag of Ben’s cock against your g-spot, the muscle and heat of his body wrapped all around you.
You clench down again, and the very last bit of Ben’s resolve snaps.
He cums inside of you suddenly, moaning down your throat as he ruts up in short, rough thrusts. The cum spills into your until you’re warm and stuffed, then runs down your ass and over your thighs. It’s so wet you think he’d slip right out of you, if it wasn’t for the headlock. You’re so full you don’t even remember how to breathe, until Ben squeezes just under your breast and groans your name.
“Don’t go out on me, doll, c’mon-“ He groans and kisses you again, his hand dropping back down to spread against your tummy. “Fuck- You feel so fuckin’ good- Better than coke, baby, Christ-“
You make another broken sound, your voice hoarse and small from the arm around your throat.
Then Ben starts to fuck you, and you think you might ascend.
He rolls his hips in long, deep thrusts, dragging in and out of your cunt like a machine. The sound of your cum mixing—sliding between your bodies with every single shift—is obscene. You’re being used like the most tended to, adored fuckdoll in the world. Ben cradles you like he thinks you’ll break, and fucking you like he’s trying to take you apart.
You feel him everywhere, with every single slam of his cock against your g-spot. Your vision swims, the tears falling freely, and Ben kisses every single one away with another, brutal thrust.
“Fuckin’ crying for me, babydoll?” He nips at your lower lip, and you whine a sound like his name. “Pretty girl can’t fuckin’ take it after begging? So sensitive you need to fuckin’ whine?”
You turn your cheek, giving him your best, pleading doe eyes. You can’t tell if his gaze sharpens or focuses. His thrusts become deeper, and his thumb finds your swollen, pulsing clit again. You sob, and he kisses the sound away with a hum.
“Bein’ such a good fuckin’ slut,” he mutters, pinching your clit and rolling it between his fingers. “Takin’ this cock like a pro, baby, like you were fucking made for me.
You babble his name again, and Ben smirks. This kiss is slower. Almost loving, and in a stark contrast with how he’s drilling into your gaping cunt.
The orgasm washes over you like a wave, and Ben moans your name as you squeeze down around him. Your vision goes white and you thrash, your body being wracked with so much pleasure you can only scream. Ben’s cock slams home against your g-spot, and rush of something wet and hot flood out of your pussy, and you think you might pass out.
At the least, you’re floating out of your body. Ben cums with rough, spat out praise, then slowly lowers you back down to the mattress. Weight shifts around. He rubs your back as you gasp for air, then slowly rolls you over and pushes your legs back open.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, the words far away, but his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “Didn’t know you could get this fuckin’ dumb and quiet. Should’ve been fucking you every day.”
He laughs to himself, and your hand flies up, unsure what it’s looking for.
Ben catches it, twines your fingers together, kisses your knuckles, and presses it back into the mattress.
“Need more, doll,” he rasps, and you whimper. “I’ll go easy. Not tryin’ to break my-“
He cuts himself off. You don’t have the words to push him. You don’t have the energy to do anything. Ben kisses your stomach, then lower, then lower. You gasp softly, when you feel his tongue lapping at your pussy. It’s gentler than before. Slower, almost careful. He works you open, mixing your releases together and tasting it almost for the sake of tasting it.
Your eyes cross, as the soft, tickling sensations. They’re strangely relaxing, even if they make your pussy flutter hopelessly.
“Easy,” Ben murmurs, kissing over your clit. “Nice and fuckin’ easy.”
It is. You go limp again, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his tongue. He’s not trying to make you cum, or get you ready. God knows you could probably take a fist in there right now, with how he’s left you soaked and open. You can hear his fist working against his cock again, and find the energy to look up again.
He’s almost art, above you. Hair mussed and tangles, dominating your vision, whole face wet and eyes blown out. You squeeze his hand in yours and smile. He blinks, and his jaw sets as he understands.
This time, he doesn’t ask if you’re sure. He must understand by now, that you might be more depraved than even he can dream up. You’d sit on his cock for the rest of your life, if he let you. And there are worse ways to be worshipped, than with everything a man—a broken, titan of a man who’s made of more than he can understand—has to give.
You let yourself lose track of it all. Ben moves you into positions you didn’t know you could make, hauling you back into his lap, flipping you over and dragging your ass in the air, sitting you on top of him and guiding your hips back and forth until you’re mewling his name and shaking around his cock. The whole room might have to be burned, when this is over. There isn’t an inch of your body he hasn’t cum on, kissed, spanked, or grabbed.
He ends up on top of you again, holding your knees back against your chest with a single arm, fucking you slow enough to drag long, loud moans from your lips every time.
“That’s my girl,” he mutters, watching his thick, swollen cock slide in and out of your cunt, smearing and spreading hours of cum between your thighs. “My pretty fuckin’ doll.”
You moan, reaching up with shaking hands to cup the back of his neck. His gaze drags back to yours, and you smile. You don’t know where the delicate, flowering thing inside of you is coming from. You think it’s always been there, and Ben’s stripped you so bare there’s nowhere to hide it, no way to make it wither. With his hands so gentle on your hips and thighs, his gaze so clouded with adoration you think that—to anyone else—he wouldn’t look like the same man, there’s nothing left to do but let this bloom.
“I love you,” you breathe out, the first words you’ve said in hours. “I love you, Ben.”
His eyes go impossibly darker. His fingers dig into you, and he crashes forward with a groan.
Ben cums one last time, and you pass out at his kisses all over your face, murmuring words you feel more than hear.
He doesn’t say it back. You didn’t think he would. Ben coddles you like a child after, wrapping you in a shirt that somehow survived the damage and carrying out back to your room. You get a warm bath and glass of water. Your stomach rumbles, and suddenly there’s food in your hand. Ben rises you both off in the shower, his breathing heavy and his face pressed into the crook of your neck.
You can feel it with every single touch. That he’s trying to find a way to tell you. That it’s carving through his chest that he doesn’t know how.
And you’ll wait. Telling him he doesn’t have to will do nothing but make him more frustrated, and you’re happy to have whatever he can offer after… this.
He figures it out faster than you thought, though. He lays in bed with you, glaring at the ceiling and rubbing your side. You watch him, your head propped on his chest, and smile. You lean up and press a kiss to his jaw, and he grunts in surprise, his gaze dropping to yours.
You smile again. His throat bobs. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks back to the ceiling and lets out a slow, deep breath.
“Marry me.”
You blink at him. If you had an ounce of strength left in your body, you’d sit up. “What?”
“You heard me,” he grunts, glancing back down at you. “You mean what you said?”
“Of- Of course I meant it-“
“You sure?”
“Fuck you,” you shove his chest, and his mouth twitches. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t sure, asshole. But-“ You point a stern finger. “I’m not marrying you.”
That makes him really, deeply frown. “Why not.”
“Because I’m not crazy.”
“That ain’t crazy, doll, you love something, you fucking marry it-“
“Marry it?” You snort. “What, are you gonna marry the fucking TV?”
“No, you brat, I’m marrying you.”
Your mouth falls open. Ben glowers at you, his fingers digging on your hips again, like he’s worried you’re going to run. “Me?” You whisper, and Ben grunts.
“Don’t see me fuckin’ proposing to anyone else, do you.”
You laugh weakly. “But this is- Ben, this is a bad proposal-“
“It is not bad-“
“It’s horrible-“
“You’re going to say yes,” he snaps, and you sigh, tracing over the line of his pecs.
There’s something raw under that demand. Something you don’t want to mock or poke at. That you want to nurture, to get him to show without barbing it in a defensive wire.
But you’re also not marrying him after one sex marathon.
“I want dinner,” you say, and he frowns.
“I’ll get you a fucking ring-“
“No.” You lean down until your noses bump. “Dinner.”
Ben glares at you. You glare back, rubbing his chest, and he slowly relaxes under your touch.
“Dinner,” he mutters, and you beam, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
He grabs the back of your neck, holding you above him. “You’d say yes, though,” he rasps, and god help you, you would.
You just kiss him instead. Long and slow and deep, telling him in a language you know he prefers to speak. And you can feel it, under every single touch. How much he really, truly means it.
Five dinners, you tell yourself, but if Ben keeps holding you like this, you know. You’ll only last until he asks you again, and then—just like before—you’ll all too happily give in.
✦End note: theory answered: yes he can ✦
✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦
You’re sat in Johnny’s lap, his dick hard and aching in his shorts and pressed against your ass. He holds your legs up and spread, hands under your knees. He never thought he’d be in this position, cock neglected, feeling it pulse just from sniffing your hair and kissing your neck.
“Look at this, mutt.”
Simon calls him to attention, his thick hard cock wet from shlicking against your slit. When he points it against your entrance, it just slides away with a lewd, sticky sound.
“Little pussy’s jus’ too damned wet. Too fuckin’ tight and wet f’me… gotta be deliberate.”
His weighty palm lands against your mound, thumb and forefinger spreading your lips. His free hand holds his cock just beneath the head, groaning as he pushes it in. Johnny can see the flesh give a little in order to pop in past that first barrier of muscle.
“You ever get ‘er this wet, mutt? Or did’ya jus’ pour cold lube on ‘er poor little pussy till you could fit your dumb cock in?”
“Ah got ‘er plenty wet—“ Johnny defends quietly.
“Not this wet, though, ey? Not like having a man who loves ‘er between these thighs,” he nearly coos, leaning to press his forehead to yours, kissing you gently. Your breath hitches at every new inch that presses in. It makes you grind your hips, which has Johnny on the verge of cumming.
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