#one of blades ass JUST IN CASE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plasticflowersinahistorycemetery · 28 days ago

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no saints in safehouses

content warning/s & word count: 18+!!!, first and foremost—ben is his own warning here because jesus christ, language and swearing, misogyny, violence, threats, spitting, smut (kissing, biting, oral/cunnilingus, throat-fucking, fingering, unprotected p in v, threat of p in a, spanking, overstim, coming on face, ben being mean, reader has an implied breeding kink), manhandling, degradation, gentle humiliation, mocking, i believe that's it. 6.4k

The safehouse door slammed shut behind you with a rusted metal groan, the sound sharp and final—like a lid sealing on a coffin.

You dropped your bag at the threshold without looking back. Your shoulder was bleeding again—torn wide when the mission started unravelling, torn wider when he got involved. You hadn’t even wrapped it. Couldn’t stand the thought of asking him for help. Would rather bleed out on the floor than let him touch you.

The air in the safehouse was sour. Sweat, smoke, old rot behind the walls. A single naked bulb dangled from the ceiling, flickering every few seconds like it couldn’t decide whether to expose or protect.

Behind you: boots. Slow. Heavy. Cocky.

You heard him exhale like he was bored. Like this whole thing—the mission, the mess, you—was just another inconvenience.

“Y’know…” he drawled, voice low and lazy, like he was savouring the words before spitting them into your spine, “He’s not wrong.”

You didn’t turn around.

“Butcher,” he added, in case you needed clarity. “You heard him. Said we’re a liability. Said we fucked it.”

You still didn’t move. The pain in your shoulder pulsed in time with your heartbeat. You could feel him behind you—close enough that your skin prickled.

“What was it he said again? Somethin’ like—‘get the fuck back to base before you fuck everything else up, yeah?’” He snorted. “Fuckin’ poetry.”

You turned slowly. Deliberate. Controlled. Like you hadn’t been burning the entire way back.

Ben leaned against the table like he owned it. Like he owned everything. His shirt was open at the collar, sleeves rolled, streaks of blood dried on his forearms. A cut split the corner of his mouth, barely crusted over. He looked like hell. He looked smug as sin.

“This your way of apologising?” You asked flatly.

He grinned.

“For what? Havin’ to drag your sorry ass out of the crossfire?” He tipped his chin toward you, voice soft and sharp. “You’re the one who decided to break off formation, sweetheart. You’re the one who thought she knew better. As usual.”

“You were supposed to be on my six.”

“I was,” he said, with a smirk that could rot teeth. “But your head’s so far up your own ass, you probably couldn’t see straight.”

You took a step forward.

“Don’t fucking talk to me.”

“Why not?” He tilted his head, mock-confused. “Scared I’ll say somethin’ you don’t wanna hear?” He clicked his tongue. “Or scared I’ll say somethin’ you do?”

He pushed off the table and started toward you, boots deliberate, like he was giving you time to flinch.

You didn’t.

“Touch me and I’ll gut you.”

He laughed. Full-bellied. Loud in the cramped space.

“Jesus Christ. Every time. You get that little snarl in your voice and think it makes you dangerous. But sweetheart—” He closed the distance, close enough to smell the blood drying on his skin. “—you don’t scare me. You get me hot.”

You flinched before you could stop yourself. And he noticed.

“That’s right,” he said, voice dipped low like a secret, like a threat. “Say my name like it don’t hurt you to come out that pretty, wet little mouth.”

“I’d rather chew glass.”

“Don’t tempt me. I’d still fuck you with blood on your teeth.”

Your hand twitched toward your blade.

He saw it. Didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

“What are you gonna do?” He asked, voice husky with mock concern. “Stab me?”

He leaned in. “C’mon, baby. Don’t tease. You and I both know you ain't gonna do shit.”

You shoved him.

It was instinctive, desperate, not meant to land so much as buy space—but he didn’t budge. Didn’t stumble. He just looked down at the spot where your hands had hit his chest. Then up.

Then smiled.

“There she is,” he murmured. “My little junkyard dog. All bark. No bite.”

You punched him. Hard. Right across the face.

His head jerked sideways with the impact. And for a moment—blessed silence.

Then he licked the blood from his lip and grinned.

“That all you got?”

You went for him again. This time he blocked it. Then the other.

You were shaking. Breathing too fast. You didn’t care. Your shoulder screamed, your vision burned—but you kept swinging. He caught your wrist. Twisted. Pressed you back against the table.

His face hovered over yours, grinning like a devil that just found a loophole.

“Always a mean little bitch under all that scowling,” he rasped, his breath hot against your cheek. “Now what? You gonna hit me again…”

His other hand slid across your hip, slow, possessive.

“…or you gonna fuckin’ kiss me?”

You shoved him—hard.

This time, Ben moved. His ass slammed against the table’s edge with a thud, the sound loud in the breathless space between you. The legs screeched against the concrete floor, the flickering bulb above swaying ever so slightly from the shift.

He didn’t look angry. He looked delighted.

That fucking smirk twisted across his split lip like sin incarnate. His eyes tracked your movements lazily, like he was watching a predictable game play out exactly as he'd imagined.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you snapped, voice low, warning-laced, vibrating with the kind of rage that tasted like blood at the back of your throat.

He tilted his head. “Ohhh,” he said slowly, savouring the shape of the sound like a fine cigar. “Feisty now, huh?”

Your chest heaved. Your shoulder throbbed. The sleeve of your jacket was soaked through, blood soaking the fabric where the wound still wept. You didn’t care. Not now. Not when he stood there like every word that had ever left your mouth was just foreplay.

“You are a walking piece of shit, Hargrove,” you hissed, each syllable laced with months of bitter frustration. “Every time you open your mouth, it’s like someone scraped the bottom of a fucking urinal and taught it to speak.”

He barked out a laugh, loud and cruel, cutting across your words like a blade. “C’mon, sweetheart. You can do better than that.”

You didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

“You’re a liability. A danger to your own team. You’re not a soldier—you’re a relic. Washed-up and bitter and desperate for someone to look at you like you’re still relevant—”

“There she goes,” he said, louder now, over you. His tone dripped with amusement, his grin all teeth. “God, you run that mouth like it’s gonna win you a medal.”

“Shut the fuck up and let me finish!”

“Why?” He shrugged. “You only like hearin’ yourself talk?”

Your vision blurred, fury red-hot behind your eyes. You didn’t even realise how close you’d stepped until you felt his breath ghosting across your lips.

“You think this is funny?” You hissed. “You ruin everything you touch. Every mission, every team—you tank it. Because you can’t handle anyone not looking at you like you’re a fucking god.”

He didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked pleased. “And yet you keep comin’ back,” he murmured. “Can’t help yourself. Bet you lie awake wonderin’ if I’m thinkin’ about you. Wantin’ me to.”

You scoffed, but his grin widened.

“Hate to break it to you, honey, but you ain't special. You're just easy.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Nah. I'm honest.” He stepped in close, voice dropping to a murmur. “Y’know what your real problem is? You don’t know your fuckin’ place.”

You blinked. Something in your spine stiffened. That sick-slick tension tightened between your ribs.

“Back in my day,” he continued, slow and deliberate, “girls like you weren’t out in the field. You were fuckin’ dinner entertainment. Something soft to come home to. Not stompin’ around, actin’ like your tits and your tantrums count as tactical advantage.”

Your nails bit into your palms. He kept going.

“You wanna play soldier so bad, but you can’t even keep your emotions in check. Bleedin’ all over the floor and yellin’ like a brat who didn’t get her way.”

“I am ten times the asset you’ll ever be—” you began, but he cut you off again.

“Sweetheart, the only asset you got is between your fuckin’ legs.”

Silence fell. Ugly. Hot.

Then you spit.

Right into his face.

It landed just beneath his eye, slid slow and gleaming down his cheek to where his jaw tensed. He didn’t wipe it away. Didn’t blink.

Then, fast as a whipcrack, he lunged.

His hand snapped up and clamped around your jaw with bruising force, fingers digging into the soft parts of your cheeks, thumb pressing into the hinge like he was daring it to break. He squeezed hard enough to make your lips part, to force your chin upward until your eyes had nowhere to go but him.

You jerked, tried to wrench away, but he held you firm. Unyielding.

“Don’t waste your fuckin’ spit like that,” he growled.

His breath was hot. His face inches from yours, that cut on his lip glistening red and wet.

“You got no idea how many men would’ve dropped you where you stand for that.”

He paused, then smiled. A slow, filthy thing.

“But not me.” His voice rasped low, reverent in the worst way. “Nah. I like you like this. All mouth and no plan. Lookin’ at me like you wanna kill me and come on my cock at the same time.”

You tried to speak, and he tightened his grip. The ache bloomed instantly, your jaw locked in place.

“Don’t. Speak.”

His eyes roamed over your face, dark and gleaming with something feral.

“You’re not gonna say anything I haven’t already jerked off to.”

Your jaw ached in his grip, cheeks squeezed between his calloused fingers, lips parted just enough for breath to pass—but nothing else. He held you there like a fucking trophy, his thumb rough against your skin, his smirk rotting through your bloodstream like venom.

You could hear yourself breathing. Could hear him breathing. Close and sharp and slow. Measured, like he was savouring the scent of your unraveling.

You hated the silence. Because in the silence—you felt it.

The throb. Low and dark, blooming in your gut like a bruise. Not from rage. Not from shame.

From want.

And it hit you like a slap.

No.

No, no, no.

Your pulse pounded hard against your ribs. Your body buzzed like it had just realised what kind of man had you pinned. What kind of voice was in your ear. What kind of fingers were on your jaw.

And that—that’s what made your stomach twist. Because somewhere in the middle of all the hate and heat and violence—

You were getting wet.

You scowled. Tried to pull back. But Ben’s grip didn’t loosen. Instead, his smile stretched into something even worse.

“Ohhh,” he crooned, soft and vicious, “there it is.”

You froze. Heart lurching.

“That little squirm,” he said. “Took you a minute, huh? Thought you were gonna keep up the act a little longer.”

You growled in your throat, furious, but he just kept going.

“Should’ve known. All that righteous little rage—” he leaned in, voice dipping like a secret, “—was just your pussy tryin’ to negotiate terms.”

You twisted in his grip, but he followed you like a shadow.

“Bet you’re soaked. Hatin’ every second of it. Poor thing.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” you hissed.

He ignored it.

“What is it?” He murmured. “The voice? The muscles? Or is it the fact I treat you like a fuckin’ dumb little girl who doesn’t belong on the field?”

You spat again—but this time, you missed. It hit his collarbone, slid down his bare chest where his shirt wasn't fully done up.

He chuckled darkly.

“Temper, temper.”

Then you bit him. Hard.

Your teeth sank into the curve where his shoulder met his neck, the tang of his sweat hitting your tongue like copper and salt. You heard him grunt—deep and involuntary—but he didn’t pull away. If anything, his hand tightened on your jaw, holding you there like he wanted the pain.

You pulled back and glared up at him, lips slick with spit and rage.

“You are not fucking me,” you snapped.

Ben didn’t blink.

“No?” He said, voice sharp with laughter, laced with something darker beneath it.

Then his hand dropped low, low enough to brush between your legs, just for a second, just enough for him to feel the heat there.

His eyes lit up.

“Well I ain’t fuckin’ the hole in your shoulder, sweetheart.”

You slapped him.

The sound snapped through the room like the crack of a whip. His face turned with the force of it—but his smile stayed. Wider now. Red glistened on his lip where your palm had split it further, curling into the corner of his mouth like a badge of honour.

And still—he laughed. Low and steady, like he was enjoying this more than anything that had come before.

“Still got fight,” he rasped. “God, I fuckin’ love that.”

He stepped forward again, forcing you back until your spine met the rough cinderblock wall. His body caged yours, broad and radiating heat, his breath ragged but measured like he was controlling it just to make a point.

His hand landed on your hip. Possessive. Heavy.

“You’re burnin’ up,” he murmured. “Tryna hide it, but you’re meltin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re pulsin’.”

You sneered. “You’re hallucinating.”

He laughed again, but there was a tension coiled beneath it now. Something tight and hungry and climbing.

His fingers dragged slowly up your thigh, the heat of them searing through the fabric. He didn’t go high enough to touch anything worth touching—but close. So close. Just enough to make your skin buzz and crawl.

“You always get this hot when you’re mad, or is it just for me?”

You turned your face away.

That smug fucking tone. That condescension. That voice.

Your body hated you for it. You hated you for it.

He leaned in until his mouth grazed the edge of your jaw, his lips brushing skin with infuriating softness. His stubble scraped, and your breath hitched—just once.

He heard it.

“C’mon,” he said, softer now. Dangerous. “Stop fightin’ it, baby.”

You clenched your teeth.

“I’m not—” you started, but he cut you off with a groan that was almost frustrated.

“Jesus. You are the most stubborn little fuckin’ thing I’ve ever met.” His palm pressed flat against your stomach now, not moving higher, not yet. “I’m right here. You know it. I feel you, sweetheart.”

He pressed his hips against yours.

You felt it—his arousal, straining against his pants, heavy and hot and very, very there.

And still—your jaw locked.

He chuckled again, but this time it was quieter. Rougher. His lips ghosted over your ear.

“You ain’t gotta beg,” he murmured. “Don’t gotta say please.”

He nipped your earlobe, and you flinched.

“But fuck,” he breathed, “I want you to. Just once. Just a fuckin’ whimper of it.”

His other hand came up and gripped the back of your neck, dragging your head back against the wall, making you look at him.

“Just gimme somethin’,” he growled. “Let me have it.”

You stared up at him, eyes defiant, chest heaving, lips trembling with a fury you couldn’t name. His pupils were blown, jaw tight, sweat beading at his temple.

“You want me to say it?” You whispered.

He nodded, once. Jaw ticking.

You leaned forward, lips almost brushing his.

“No.”

His eyes flared. Just for a moment. Then his forehead hit the wall beside your head with a hollow thunk.

“Fuckin’ tease,” he growled, nearly breathless. “Goddamn little—”

You kissed him.

Or maybe he kissed you. It didn’t matter. Because suddenly—there were no more words. Only teeth. Tongue. Pressure. Only hands everywhere, dragging, grabbing, bruising. Only the sound of your breath punched out of your lungs as he pinned you harder, like he wanted to break something open just to see what spilled out.

And still—you didn’t beg. Not once.

His mouth was on yours, hot and hungry and entirely too satisfied with itself. He kissed like he fought—with dominance, with grit, with absolutely no care for anyone’s breath but his own. Your teeth clashed, tongues fighting for control, every gasp turning into another insult.

“I fuckin’ knew you wanted it,” he muttered against your lips, breath ragged, voice ruined. “God, you’re such a fuckin’ prick tease sometimes.”

You bit his bottom lip, hard enough to make him grunt. “Shut the fuck up,” you panted, fingers already yanking at his half-undone shirt.

He growled—deep and primal—grabbing the hem of your top and pulling it over your head like it’d personally offended him. You barely had time to toss it aside before his hands were on your tits, greedy and rough and everywhere.

Between kisses, between moans, between muttered curses, you were tearing at his belt, yanking and fumbling, both of you shaking with urgency.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he hissed, snapping the leather free. “Gonna ruin you.”

“You already have,” you spat.

His grin split wider. “Aww, baby. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

Then he went for your pants.

And froze.

You were kicking off your boots, halfway done when he huffed—truly, violently irritated.

“Fuck this shit,” he barked.

Before you could speak, his arms wrapped around your waist and he spun you—fast, like the air was thick with smoke and he didn’t have time to be gentle.

You barely got your hands out to brace yourself before your hips hit the edge of the table and you were slammed down onto your front.

“Hargrove—” you started.

He didn’t listen.

Didn’t care.

His hand wrapped around your waistband and in one brutal, fluid motion, he ripped your pants and underwear clean down the back of your legs, the fabric tearing with a shriek and hitting the floor like surrender.

“Are you fucking serious?! I liked those pants!”

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, just enough to tilt your head back.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

Then he dropped to his knees.

You barely had time to process the shift before his hands gripped your ass and spread you, and his whole face pressed in like he was trying to suffocate between your thighs.

And then—his mouth.

“Oh fuck—”

The first lick was devastating. Broad and slow, from your clit to your dripping entrance, and then back again, like he was learning you.

Then came the second—filthier. Sloppier. Louder.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, voice muffled in your cunt. “You taste like a fuckin’ war crime.”

You choked on a laugh and a moan at once, half turning to glare over your shoulder.

“Don’t flatter yourself—”

But he growled—deep—and sucked your clit into his mouth like he was punishing it. You almost collapsed.

“Shut up,” he muttered against you. “Just fuckin’ take it.”

Then he really started working.

Tongue pressed flat, then curling. Lapping and sucking and moaning like he’d gone feral. One hand keeping you spread, the other sliding down your thigh, gripping tight enough to bruise.

“You hear that?” He said, pulling back just long enough to spit onto your pussy and spread it with two fingers. “That squelch? That’s you, baby. Drippin’ all over my fuckin’ face.”

His mouth dove back in, and this time, he added teeth.

You cried out. His name. A curse. Maybe both.

He laughed into you. “That’s right. Fuckin’ mess. And you act like you’re not into it.”

You tried to push up, to speak, but he slapped your ass—hard—and buried his tongue deep again, humming like it was the best goddamn meal he’d ever had.

“Keep that mouth shut and let me eat, sweetheart,” he growled, voice wrecked. “You’re so fuckin’ wet I could drown in it.”

And he wanted to. You could feel it—in the way he moved. Desperate. Devoted. Obscene.

You were moaning. Panting. Swearing. But even now—still, now—you were running your fucking mouth.

His tongue had been buried in you for what felt like hours. Alternating between lapping, sucking, biting—his face drenched, his groans constant, hands gripping your thighs like a lifeline.

And you? You were taking it. You were suffering for it. But not quietly.

“You sound like a dog,” you hissed, voice breathless, broken, but still smug. “Fucking mutt. Bet you’d hump my leg if I let you.”

He growled into your cunt. You gasped. But the grin was still there, stretching across your face like sin.

“You’re pathetic, Hargrove,” you whispered. “Fucking starving like you haven’t had pussy in—”

His voice rumbled, low and sharp: “Shut your mouth.”

But you didn’t. Couldn’t.

“Can’t get enough, huh? Pathetic little—”

“I swear to God, sweetheart—” His breath was ragged, trembling with something dangerous. “I will fuck that pretty throat if you don’t stop talkin’.”

You arched your back and laughed, breathless and triumphant.

“Aww,” you taunted, “Did I bruise your ego?”

That was it.

He moved. In a blur of strength and heat and fury, he grabbed your waist and lifted you clean off the floor. You yelped, legs kicking reflexively as your spine hit the table, your head dangling off the far side.

The world flipped upside down.

“Hargrove—what the fu—”

Your words were cut off by the weight of him—thick and hot and full, his cock driving into your mouth so deep your vision sparked.

Your throat convulsed.

He hissed through clenched teeth, head thrown back, arms braced over the table as he held you there.

“Fuck—told you.” His voice cracked, breath rattling through the growl. “I fuckin’ warned you,” he groaned, thrusting slowly, deeply, into your throat while your eyes watered and your fingernails dug into the edges of the table.

“Run that fuckin’ mouth one more time,” he panted, his hips grinding deeper with every word, “and I’ll use it just like this every goddamn time.”

He wasn’t pulling back.

Just shallow rocks of his hips, grinding against the back of your throat while he looked down at your body bent over the table like a goddamn feast.

And then?

His fingers slid between your legs again. Without warning. Two of them. Deep.

You choked—hard—around him as his fingers curled exactly where they needed to, dragging slick out of you like he wanted to make it messier.

Your whole body spasmed.

“You feel that?” He rasped, breath shuddering. “Goddamn. You’re squeezin’ my fingers like a fuckin’ vice.”

He groaned again—shaky, hot, fucked-out.

“Jesus, baby… and you were talkin’ like you didn’t want this.”

His free hand cradled your throat now—thumb pressed against the bulge of his cock visible in your neck, feeling himself inside you.

His eyes rolled back.

“Christ, your fuckin’ throat was made for me.”

You tried to move. Couldn’t.

Every breath you dragged in was him. Every sound was slick and gasped and obscene—the wet noise of his fingers plunging into your soaked cunt, the slap of his hips against your lips, the throb of your core twitching around his hand.

He laughed again—wrecked, barely holding on.

And you were still fighting it. Still glaring through tear-lined lashes, still gagging and clawing and refusing to break.

But he was gonna make you, even if he had to keep you full at both ends to do it.

He was fucking your throat like it was the last thing on Earth that could save him.

Every roll of his hips was deeper. Slower. Less angry and more delirious, like he’d tipped over into something hot and helpless and consuming.

His fingers were still inside you, working in tandem with his cock down your throat—crooking and twisting like he was testing reactions, mapping you from the inside out. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could barely think.

And he loved it.

You could hear it in the way he was groaning now—drawn-out, fucked-up sounds, torn from deep in his chest. He wasn’t even taunting anymore. He was worshipping.

“Jesus,” he gasped, looking down at you with wild, half-lidded eyes, sweat dripping from his temple. “This mouth. This fuckin’ mouth, sweetheart—"

He thrust again, slow and deep, hips stuttering at the feel of you twitching around him.

“I love it when you spit at me,” he groaned, voice cracking into a soft laugh. “I love it when you snarl like a rabid little fuckin’ animal—”

You gagged around him, throat clenched so tight he moaned.

“God, yeah. When you run that mouth like a spoiled little brat—when you hate me so fuckin’ loud—”

He curled his fingers inside you, deep and slick, pressing down on your front wall—that spongey, gummy, wreck-you spot—like he was playing a damn instrument.

“—and then suck me down like you don’t even need to breathe anymore—fuck—”

Your vision blurred. Everything started spinning. You tapped his thigh once. Twice. Desperate.

His hips froze. His cock still buried in your throat.

“Oh—fuck,” he gasped, already pulling out. “Shit. Sorry, sweetheart—got lost in the fuckin’ moment there.”

He was laughing. A breathless, ragged sound, part apology, part thrill. His eyes were wild with it. Face flushed. Hands shaking.

You gagged as air rushed back into your lungs, coughing, drool trailing down your chin, your mouth gaping as you tried to drag yourself upright.

“Jesus,” you rasped, blinking tears from your lashes. “You’re fucking insane.”

His fingers left you with a wet pull that made you flinch—and he watched it. Watched how your thighs twitched when you were empty again.

He was circling the table now, still breathless, his cock glistening, soaked in spit and flushed angry red.

“Damn right I am,” he said hoarsely, eyes raking down your wrecked body.

Then he gripped your hips and dragged you down the table, rough and fluid, until your ass met the edge and your legs dropped open—slack, shivering.

“C’mon.” His voice was low now. Different. Almost soft. “Lean up. Wanna see those fuckin’ eyes.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, still gasping, still shaking. But you looked. You watched.

You watched him line up—the head of his cock rubbing through your soaked folds, catching against your clit, then sliding down to your entrance where you were aching to be filled.

He exhaled shakily, mouth falling open.

“God,” he muttered, like a man on the brink. “Look at you.”

One hand on your thigh. The other gripping himself, twitching at the base. He nudged forward again, teasing—not to torture, but because he was savouring.

You locked eyes. He was gone.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you,” he whispered.

Then he pushed in like he had all the time in the world.

No rush. No brutality.

Just that slow, devastating stretch as his cock split you open—inch by aching inch—like he’d been waiting for this, like he’d earned it. His mouth dropped open when he bottomed out, a filthy groan catching low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. “You’re so fuckin’ tight. Squeezin’ me like you were made for this.”

Your body arched, mouth falling open in a wordless moan as the table beneath your back creaked. You couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t think. All you could feel was the weight of him—deep, thick, pulsing inside you—and the heat blooming out from where your bodies met.

And then he started to move.

Slow. Deep. Dragging his cock almost all the way out, then pressing it back in until your walls clenched and fluttered helplessly.

Your head lolled back. Your eyes rolled.

He slapped your thigh—hard.

“Uh-uh.” His voice was tight. Stern. “Eyes on me.”

You blinked, dazed.

He was braced over you, one hand on your thigh, the other fisted beside your hip. His hips rolled forward again—slower this time, deliberate. You moaned. Your eyelids fluttered.

Another sharp slap to your thigh.

“Look. At. Me.” he growled.

You dragged your gaze back to him, jaw slack, lips parted.

“Goddamn,” he rasped, staring down at you like you were an open flame. “Look at that face. Look at what I fuckin’ do to you.”

He rocked in again, groaning as your body clenched around him.

“I love this part,” he muttered. “When you’re still tryin’ to hold it together. Still actin’ like you’re not fallin’ apart.”

You whimpered, and his mouth curled.

“You like this, don’t you?” He crooned, voice thick with filth. “Being pinned open like this. Full. Spread. Watched.”

Your head tipped back again on instinct, eyes slipping shut—

And his hand snapped up, grabbing your jaw.

“No.”

He held your face, fingers digging into your cheeks, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You don’t get to look away,” he said, voice sharp with heat. “Not when I’m inside you like this. Not when I’m this deep.”

He thrust again, deeper this time—grinding the base of his cock against you so perfectly you cried out.

“That’s it.” He grinned, breath catching. “I wanna see you break.”

Your hands scrambled at the table, nails dragging across the wood. Your thighs were shaking. Every time he bottomed out, your hips jerked, your breath hitched, your chest arched—and he watched. Every. Fucking. Time.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes again,” he warned, still holding your face. “I want to watch what I do to you. Every twitch. Every moan. Every little shiver.”

Your body pulsed around him like it was listening.

And that made him feral.

“Jesus, sweetheart—this pussy,” he groaned, slowing his thrusts again, dragging them out to pure torture. “Grippin’ me like it knows. Like it wants to be ruined.”

Your eyes fluttered again.

He tutted.

“Aw, baby. You tryna be good?” His cock slid deeper. “You wanna be good for me?”

You couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. He let your jaw go—just long enough to slap your thigh one more time.

“Christ,” he groaned, hands gripping your thighs like restraints. “Still this fuckin’ tight…”

You felt it every time he bottomed out—hips flush to yours, cock buried so deep you could barely breathe. Your mouth opened on a moan that never quite found its voice, your head tipping back on the table, fingers trembling where they gripped the edge.

His hands moved—one sliding up to press flat against your belly, the other settling on your jaw, thumb grazing your lips like he didn’t know what part of you he wanted to control more.

“Pussy like this should come with a fuckin’ warning,” he muttered, thumb brushing your lower lip. “You feel that? How tight you’re squeezin’ me? It’s fucking perfect.”

You moaned, head tipping back more.

He slapped your thigh. Again. Sharper.

“Nuh-uh. Eyes. On. Me.”

Your gaze dragged back up to meet his—blurry, glassy, wrecked.

He looked devastated. Sweat on his chest. Jaw tight. His green eyes burning down at you like he’d die if you looked away again.

“You keep doin’ that, I’m gonna lose it,” he whispered. “I’m already hangin’ by a fuckin’ thread.”

Your walls clenched around him at the admission. He hissed.

“You like that, don’t you? Bein’ the one who makes me lose my fuckin’ mind.”

His thrusts got deeper, harder. Still slow, still controlled—but barely.

“God, I really do love this fuckin’ mouth,” he panted, staring at your lips now.

You whimpered. Shuddered. Your whole body was tensing.

He could feel it. His fingers reached down, thumb finding your clit, circling in tight, merciless pressure.

“You close?” He asked, voice gone rough and mean.

You nodded, whimpering, trying to say yes. But your throat couldn’t form it.

He stilled.

You cried out, grinding your hips, chasing the friction—anything—but he held you.

“Nope,” he rasped. “You wanna come? You ask.”

Your eyes flared. Fury and arousal crashing like thunder.

He grinned.

“What’s wrong?” He cooed. “Too proud to beg? Thought you were a tough girl.”

You clenched your teeth, panting.

“I can do this all night, sweetheart,” he said, hips grinding deep and slow again, teasing that spot that made your legs twitch. “I’ll keep you right here until you sob for it.”

He pulled back, just enough to make you feel empty. Then slid back in, eyes glued to your face.

“You gonna say it?” He whispered. “Gonna ask me?”

Still, you didn’t. But your eyes were glassy. Your hips were shaking. Your voice was gone.

And then, you said it. Soft. Broken.

“…Ben.”

His name. Your voice.

Everything stopped.

His hands shook. His breath hitched. His head dropped forward with a gasp.

“Oh, fuck…”

He looked at you like he didn’t know what to do with that sound.

“You’ve never…” he whispered. “You’ve never called me that.”

You said it again, even softer.

“Ben…”

And he shattered.

“Fuck, come.” His voice cracked. “Please. Now.”

His thumb pressed down. His hips snapped forward. Your body broke. And the moment it hit the air—

He snapped.

“Fuck—yes, yes, come, come for me—”

His voice fractured around it—command and awe bleeding together like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His thumb kept circling your clit, relentless. His cock buried deep. And your body shuddered beneath him.

You came hard. Again. Back arching, mouth open, eyes rolling.

And still— He didn’t stop.

Not even for a second.

He was still fucking you. Driving into your wrecked cunt like he’d been given permission to devour.

You whimpered. Eyes fluttering.

“Ben—”

“Oh, we’re not done,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “Not even close, sweetheart.”

He kissed you. Open-mouthed and filthy. His lips found your jaw, your neck, your shoulder—like he couldn’t decide what part of you to ruin next. His hips never slowed. Each thrust was harder now. Rougher. Every wet slap of his body against yours made you twitch.

You couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t think. And your body—shaking, overstimulated—begged for mercy you refused to ask for.

Your head tipped back again.

Eyes closed.

Your fatal mistake.

He froze. Just for a second. Then he snapped his hips. Hard. Brutal.

You cried out.

His hand cracked across your thigh. Again.

“Eyes,” he snarled. “The fuck did I say?”

You tried. Blinked. Dragged yourself back to him.

His eyes were wild. Hair damp with sweat. Jaw tight. His cock pulsing deep inside you.

“You look at me when I fuck you.”

He slowed. Just a little. Then slammed into you again, harder than before—making the table creak and your legs twitch.

“Can’t believe you dared to close your fuckin’ eyes again after I warned you.”

“Ben—fuck, I—”

He spit the next words like a threat:

“You do that one more time, and I swear to God, sweetheart— I’ll flip you over, fuck your ass deep, and I won’t let you look at me.”

Your whole body spasmed.

His voice dropped, feral.

“Sound good to you?” He growled. “Want me there next? So every fuckin’ inch of you is mine? So you remember who fuckin’ owns this body?”

You choked on a moan.

He grabbed your face again, forcing your gaze back to his.

“That’s right. Keep those pretty little eyes where they belong.”

He thrust again—hard, fast, filthy. You sobbed. Clenched. He groaned like he was dying. Your thighs were soaked. Your vision blurred. And he was still going. Still holding you wide open.

Still not coming. Because he wanted you broken first.

He was fucking you like he was trying to carve a god out of your body. Relentless. Precise. The kind of rhythm that wasn’t chaos—it was control. Hard-earned. Hard-kept. Just barely contained.

Your thighs were soaked. His cock was dripping. You could feel your own come sliding down the insides of your legs from the last orgasm, and still—he hadn’t let up.

Then—

His pace broke.

He pulled back, hips stuttering as he groaned, “Fuck, I’m close. Fuck—where d’you want it?”

His voice was wrecked. Ragged. Wild. “Your tits? Your stomach? Wanna see it drip off your ass? What, baby—what do you want?”

Your answer was a sob. One word.

“Inside.”

And he stopped cold.

You didn’t even feel his cock anymore—just the sudden absence as he yanked back like you’d burned him.

His hand flew to the base of his cock, fisting it tight to hold himself back.

“Jesus fuck, sweetheart—”

He was breathing hard. Panicked. Laughing like it hurt.

“You can’t—you can’t say shit like that,” he gasped, squeezing himself as precum smeared over his knuckles. “You gotta give a guy warning before you pull that fucking move.”

You whimpered. Barely coherent. “Please…”

He laughed. Laughed like he was losing his mind.

“Oh, no. No, no, no—” he choked, circling around the table like he had to walk it off or he’d blow right then and there.

He looked feral. Cheeks flushed, sweat gleaming on his chest, cock throbbing in his fist.

“Inside?” He echoed, voice hoarse. “Jesus, you really are a little fuckin’ menace.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, mouth open, wrecked in every possible way.

“The last thing either of us needs,” he panted, “is me fuckin’ a baby into you.”

You shivered. Moaned. He grinned wider.

“Can you imagine?” He groaned, twisting his fist at the tip. “Half me and half you? That kid would be fucked. Wouldn’t even make it past the first trimester before startin’ bar fights in the womb.”

He shook his head, still circling, the slap of his fist on his cock echoing through the room.

“Hot in theory, sweetheart. In practice? Not so fuckin’ much.”

He came to a stop at the head of the table. Looked down at you—body blown open, thighs twitching, chest flushed, mouth wet and waiting.

“Back,” he said, pressing a hand to your shoulder. “Down. Now.”

You obeyed. Laid back across the table, head tilted slightly, breathing shallow.

He gripped his cock tighter, leaning over you with that wild grin stretched across his face, his other hand toying with your nipples, rolling and pinching until you gasped.

“Gonna make such a mess of this face,” he whispered.

Your legs spread wider.

He grinned. “That’s my girl.”

Then his hand hovered over your lips.

“Open wide,” he said, voice low.

You did.

He spit. Heavy. Wet. Right into your mouth.

“For earlier, you little fucker,” he muttered, eyes glittering.

You moaned around it. Swallowed. Smiled.

He groaned. “Jesus Christ, you liked that.”

Then—he slapped your cheek, light, teasing. The kind of touch that said mine.

“Here it fuckin’ comes, baby,” he panted, jerking faster now. “Open wider. C’mon.”

You looked up at him. Eyes glossy. Lips parted.

He groaned loud. “Good girl.”

And then—

He came. Hot. Thick. Everywhere. Over your tongue, your chin, your cheeks, your fucking soul. And when he was done, he stumbled. Laughed. Ran a hand through his hair and looked down at you like you’d just ruined him.

Because you had.

author notes: boy, oh boy... i went hard on this one. i need to get fucked like this at the moment, i genuinely believe it would get me out of my own fucking head for five goddamn minutes and then i can just get back on with my life. but alas, i hate all men, and will not go near one, even if it means the dicking of my life. i love ben like this. fucking nasty asshat but so obviously reverent over reader. we live to see it. i also haven't fully proofread this because i'm just delirious from last night, and let's be real, the past few weeks lol. my life is going down the fucking toilet. let me know what y'alls think, please. i need some fucking praise right now. and that isn't even a hint, it's an outright request. all the damn love.

soldier boy/ben taglist: @losers-clvb @bejeweledinterludes @soldiersgirl @bruisedfig @tinas111 @angelicjackles @lunaleah. @mostlymarvelgirl @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @lyarr24 @podiumackles @spxideyver @ohgodimgoungtodie @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids @sacr1ficialang3l @kaz-2y5-spn @agoodgirlsguidetomakingmencry @bohoooitsme @n3lly-h3artz @ladykitana90 @deangirlsstuff67 @adoredawn @sunnyfuffly @deansbbyx <3

everything taglist: @bejeweledinterludes @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @blossomingorchids @tinas111 @lunaleah @drakulana @sacr1ficialang3l @mostlymarvelgirl @bohoooitsme @n3lly-h3artz @deangirlsstuff67 @ambiguous-avery @deansbeer @angrydragon90 <3

#pfiahc writes #my writing #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fic #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys smut #the boys fanfic #the boys x female reader #the boys x you #the boys x reader

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lazysoulwriter · 2 months ago

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show me your face, baby. - pedro pascal. (MDNI)

requested! thank you. ♡ content: established relationship, dominant Pedro, intense & emotional sex, rough but affectionate, reader prefers doggy style, dirty talk, gentle face pushing, overstimulation, soft!Pedro with a possessive edge, reader begging, strong emotional bond.

---

You haven’t been together for very long. A few months, maybe. Just enough to know each other's rhythms, each other's breaths — and, in Pedro’s case, every single thing that made you melt underneath him.

He’d learned quickly. The way your thighs trembled when he hit that spot deep inside. The way your voice cracked when you were close. The way your hands clawed at the sheets, not to get away — no — but to hold onto something while he ruined you slow.

And more than anything: the way you always, always wanted him behind you.

He never minded. Not even a little. In fact, he fucking loved it. Loved the way your ass arched up for him, the way your back curved in pure submission, the way your moans sounded wrecked when you couldn't see his face — only feel him, deep and heavy and relentless.

But sometimes…

Sometimes he wanted more.

“Turn around for me,” he said one night, voice already thick with lust, hands running down your hips as he hovered over you in bed.

You were already on your stomach, already pushing back against him, already breathing like you needed him now.

“Pedro, please—”

He kissed the middle of your spine, then your lower back, his lips soft, patient.

“I know you like that I fuck you from behind, baby,” he murmured, hips grinding slow against your ass, not quite slipping in, just teasing, just pressing. “But I missed you all day. And sometimes I just wanna see your face when I’m inside you.”

That should’ve been enough to make you turn. It should’ve made you soften, flip over, let him look at you while he loved you.

But instead, you whimpered — desperate, needy, already trembling.

“Don’t stop. Please. I need it like this, Pedro—please—”

He didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t tease. Didn’t ask twice.

Because hearing you beg like that? The way your voice cracked? The way you pushed back against him, offering yourself so fully, so trustingly?

It made his head spin.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, grabbing your hips and sliding into you with one deep, ruthless thrust.

You cried out — loud, high-pitched, perfect — and he felt your body pulse around him immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he growled, hand gripping your waist as he started to move. “This what you wanted, huh? Didn’t even need to say it. I already know.”

And he did.

He knew this was your favorite. Knew your body better than you ever admitted. Knew the way you tightened when he gripped your thighs like this. Knew the way your toes curled when he hit it just right.

He leaned over you, chest to your back, hips still slamming into yours with a desperate, raw rhythm — all heat and love and need.

Then, without meaning to, his hand slid up your back, between your shoulder blades, and gently — gently — pushed your face down into the pillow.

Not rough. Not cruel. Just firm enough to keep you exactly where you needed to be.

Ass up, body trembling, taking every inch he gave you.

“Look at you,” he whispered, breath ragged. “My perfect girl. So fucking sensitive like this.”

You moaned something he couldn’t understand, something half-broken, half-sweet, muffled into the pillow.

He fucked you through it. Let you fall apart under him, just like you needed. And when you finally collapsed, shaking and breathless, he leaned down and kissed the back of your neck again, whispering words only for you.

“I’ll do anything for you, baby. Any way you want. Always.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfics #pedro pascal fics #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal blurbs #pp #x reader #fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal smuts #pedro pascal hot

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kerosenee-kisses · 10 days ago

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Summer Loving | Caleb LADS

summary: Summer has just begun and Caleb is finally home on break from the Aerospace Academy! Too bad you can't stay in the same room as him for fear of jumping his bones. cw: 18+, MDNI, fem!reader, Oral Sex (giving/receiving), Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Spitting, Nipple Play, kinda rough sex (idk? adding it just in case. Caleb is just eager imo), Overstimulation, Caleb puts reader through the ringer (and the mattress) tbh a/n: I tried soooooo hard to finish this in time for Caleb's birthday but it kept getting longer and longer. He is just too sexy omg, the ideas kept coming (kinda like reader in this fic lmao). Better late than never, though. Anyway, thank you for reading!! Blowing you a kiss, hope you enjoy :) Banners by the one and only @cafekitsune wc: 6.7k (jesus fucking christ)

Summer, the season most beloved by you. With it comes beach days, sun tans, ice cream, and apparently...

“Caleb! Get out of there already! Are you kidding me?”

A heat-induced demon of rage.

You kick at the bathroom door as you growl for him to make his long-awaited exit. Caleb turns up the volume on his speaker in response.

Ever since Caleb came home on break from the Aerospace Academy, he has been breakdancing on your last nerve. Sure, he still dotes on you like always. But the time spent apart while he was away in Skyhaven has made him even more unyielding in his quest to tick you off.

Maybe it’s a Caleb-induced demon after all.

“You know what? I won’t break the door down. I’m a lady,” you shout over the music. “But just know when I get in there, I’m gonna kick. Your. Ass. Count your days!”

You stomp off to your room and rummage through your desk drawer until you find a pair of scissors. You practically sprint back to the bathroom so you can jam one blade between the door and its frame until the lock clicks softly.

Steam envelopes you once you push the door open. You can hardly see ahead of you, let alone make your way to the only working toilet in the house. The thought alone is enough to seduce your heat-demon into coming out to play. You manage to appease her by powering off Caleb’s speaker, perched on the jack and jill sink.

“Hey Pipsqueak. I’m totally done in the bathroom unless my still being in the shower made that less than obvious. Feel free to come right in,” he says from the confines of the fog-covered glass shower.

“Oh, you better be done in here, Selfish. You have no reason to shower this long.”

You thank every higher power when you make it to the toilet in time. The relief you feel makes you all the more furious with Caleb. He’s not allowed to hog the bathroom when you clearly need it more than he does. Seriously, what could he have been doing for the past forty-five minutes?

You’ve only just finished when the water from the shower cuts off. Dread plummets into your stomach when the door pops open and Caleb reaches for his towel. He steps out a moment later, the same white, fluffy towel wrapped around his trim waist. His skin, flushed from the heat of the shower, is freckled with droplets of water.

You and Caleb are close. You’ve been through so much together that it would be impossible not to be. Normally sharing the bathroom with him wouldn’t be such a huge deal. But something about having him back after so long... You’re seeing everything about him with the focus of a space observatory locked onto a new galaxy.

For starters, he’s buff now.

He was in good enough shape before enrolling in the academy but now his muscles are honed to a degree that is both absurd and unfair. You can barely look at his bare arms without your face erupting with heat. Which is why seeing him now, nearly naked save for that damned towel, is just enough to ruin your cognitive processing.

“You break into the bathroom while I’m still in it and you’re the one who looks scared?” Caleb leans into your space, head cocked slightly. “How does that work?”

You feel faint; clearly, you didn’t think things through. Caleb seems to have come to a similar conclusion. He laughs as he retreats to the dual sinks at the opposite end of the bathroom.

“Don’t worry, I won’t peek,” he says. Your heart nearly tumbles off your tongue.

You hurriedly gather a handful of toilet paper, which only makes him laugh louder. Once you’ve pulled your sleep shorts back into place, you make your way to the sink beside Caleb. You adjust the faucet until the water runs warm and wash your hands.

“Me and Gideon are gonna play some basketball in the park if you want to tag along,” Caleb says as he squeezes toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

“Pass. I’m meeting up with the girls at the mall.”

“I knew you’d come up with a reason not to go.”

“It’s not an excuse; we’ve had this planned for days. Besides, I don’t want–”

You make the mistake of glancing at him mid-sentence. It’s impossible to save face when he crosses one arm across his chest while he brushes his teeth. All the muscles in his biceps, his pecs, bunch and shift so enticingly that you clench your jaw hard.

Caleb spits some toothpaste out, and you unfortunately pay too much attention to the foam clinging to his mouth. Even the sound of him spitting is doing strange things to you.

“My eyes are up here, you know.”

Your gaze snaps back to his and your heart stutters in its rhythm. His eyes twinkle with amusement to your absolute horror.

“You were saying, ‘I don’t want...”

I don’t want to keep lusting after you like this. “I-I don’t want to spend the day melting at the park. The mall is air-conditioned at least.”

“Aww, too cool to hang with your gege now?”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and load up your own toothbrush with toothpaste.

“I would but...I don’t know, I think you should make me.”

“What?”

“You did threaten to beat my ass when you got in here.” Caleb smiles at you playfully. “So go on, shut me up for good.”

You groan long and low. “I’m brushing my teeth in the kitchen.” If you stay in here a second longer you might lick the rest of the foam off his mouth.

“Hey, don’t back down now. Come on, Pips!”

“No, I’m leaving. I shouldn’t have barged in at all. But if I catch you in here ten minutes from now Caleb, I’ll make the Chronorift Catastrophe the second worst incident you’ve ever lived through.”

His face sobers at once. At least he knows that you mean business.

You pop your toothbrush into your mouth as you make your way down the hallway.

“Hurry up!” you warn, words muffled by too much toothpaste.

The afternoon finds you, Tara, and Simone chilling at the food court, after some window shopping. Though it was a little less window and a lot more shopping, thanks to Caleb. He gave you some spending money (after clearing out of the bathroom in five minutes!) that you gladly spent on some cute outfits to survive the rest of the summer. Carrying such heavy bags around really is exhausting. You’re all enjoying cherry icees while you relax and catch up. Well, Simone and Tara are still enjoying their icees. Your extra-large cup was empty in five minutes.

“So, is this emergency meeting about Caleb or...?” Tara asks.

“Yeah, what’s the deal with you two?” Simone adds.

“He’s driving me insane,” you groan. “Everything he does is just, ugh! I can’t exist in the same space as him anymore.”

Your friends have been on the receiving end of many a text complaining about the most innocuous things Caleb has been doing for the past week and a half. Making you braised chicken wings, touching up his models in the living room, changing your phone background to a picture of him, catching his breath after a morning run, brushing his teeth beside you. Being at home at all. Everything has been setting you off lately. It’s to the point that you don’t trust yourself to be alone with him. What if you do something embarrassing in front of him? He will never let you forget.

You shudder at the thought. He has a lifetime of humiliating ammunition to wield against you, no need to give him anything more.

“Here’s an idea: why don’t you move into my room and I move into yours so I can deal with your Caleb issue for you,” Tara says. She and Simone burst out laughing, and they only get louder when they look at you again.

“Don’t make that face! We’re just messing with you,” Simone giggles.

“I’m not making a face,” you grumble.

“You look like you just got sprayed by a Lemonette,” Tara deadpans. “Besides, I doubt I could even handle Caleb. One glance my way and I’d disintegrate!”

“Same here. I really don’t know how you do it,” Simone adds.

“I don’t! That’s why I’ve been avoiding him so much.”

It’s hard to believe that only two weeks ago you could hardly wait for Caleb to come home. Now he plagues your every waking thought. And sleep offers no respite as he frequents your dreams as well. You’re ashamed to admit the number of mornings you woke up soaked with sweat and arousal from whatever sweet torture Dream Caleb subjected you to.

"How about, instead of ignoring his very existence, you model some of the cute clothes you bought earlier,” Simone says.

“I love that. You can do a little fashion show for him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Tara chimes in.

“I am not doing that.”

You want to make a very important distinction that trying on one (1) outfit for Caleb to see on you is NOT the same as a one-woman runway show. And this hardly counts as an outfit. You’re in a pair of pale green, terrycloth shorts that are a size too small. Sneaky Simone must have put back the actual size you wanted when you were trying things on earlier. You’re also wearing a cropped, white tank top with a fucking paper airplane on it, purchased at both Simone and Tara’s cheeky behest.

You stand before the floor length mirror in your room, inspecting your reflection. Your butt looks great, even if it is peeking out just a little. And you’d probably buy the top anyway, even if Caleb wasn’t around to see you in it.

Honestly, your outfit isn’t so different from what you’d normally wear in the summer, but something about them being purchased with Caleb in mind makes you nervous. You hate this feeling. You're about to change all together, but the front door opens and slams shut, announcing Caleb’s arrival.

“Yo, Pipsqueak! You home yet?” His footfalls grow louder as he makes his way through the house.

“I thought you could track my every move with that insane app you installed on both our phones.”

You watch Caleb lean against your door frame and cross his arms through the mirror. A sheen of sweat covers his sun-tanned skin. And his hair sticks up in such a cute way. You want to reach up and push it back for him.

No, stop thinking about his hair. You can’t afford to entertain such dangerous thoughts. Considering how you’ve been lately, you might yank him by those silky strands and kiss him instead.

“Yeah, I can. Buuuut it’s still nice to hear from the source.”

“I’m safe at home as you can see. You don't have to keep treating me like a kid, you know?”

“I’m not treating you like a kid. Doesn’t matter when, how, or why. I’ll always want to make sure you’re safe and taken care of.”

His tone is so serious that you turn to face him directly. The stress marring his features disappears almost instantly when your eyes meet. But his eyes dip, tracing you from head to toe. Your breath falters. Does he like what he sees? Or is he about to piss you off and force you to change? Last week when you wore a crop top and shorts to meet up with some friends he’d nearly locked you in your room.

Caleb clears his throat. “Anyway, Gran called. She’s working late tonight so we’ll have dinner without her.”

“What are you thinking of making me?”

“Mushroom stir fry.”

You blink at him. Is he serious? “What can I do to convince you to make braised pork instead.”

“Braised chicken wings. Braised pork. Something tells me you won’t let me leave before I’ve braised everything under the sun,” he says. “What’s next, braised luminivore? Braised spurtail?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You’re right. With your appetite, you’re gonna need to take down a whole wyrmlord.”

You shoulder past him, hard. And your irritation mounts when his laughter all but chases you down the hallway.

“Don’t be mad, I was only kidding,” he calls after you.

You make yourself comfortable in the living area, taking your usual place at the center of the couch. You hope at the very least Caleb will hang out in his room for a second, maybe hit the shower after playing basketball well into the afternoon. But it’s only natural that he would come join you here, especially considering how little you’ve seen each other these past few days.

Caleb plops down to the left of you, arms stretched across the back of the couch. He leans his head back and observes you keenly. Your stomach ties itself in knots of irritation and intrigue.

“What is it?” You ask.

“Your muscles look more toned.” He rubs a hand down your bicep for emphasis, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head. “You definitely could have helped me out on the court today.”

“Sorry my plans interfered with you reclaiming the title of ‘King of the Playground’.”

“To make up for it, why not watch a movie with me.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Come onnn, you already ditched me once today. And we’re sitting here anyway.” Caleb’s face falls a little when he asks. “Is it really so bad? Hanging out with me?”

Guilt squeezes at your heart. You’ve been so busy trying to steer clear of him for your own sanity, you didn’t even consider his feelings in all this.

“No, I love hanging out with you. You’re my favorite person in the world. I’m sorry if I’ve made you doubt that. I’m just...going through a lot right now.”

“Is something wrong?” he asks, immediately concerned.

“It’s nothing to worry about!” you say too quickly to be convincing. “Let’s see if there’s any good sci-fi movies on TV.”

“It’s ok to rely on me sometimes, you know.”

“I know,” you say as you sidle closer to him. “But I promise it’s nothing.”

Caleb sighs and pulls you even closer. Your breath hitches; you’re practically glued to his side now. He’s so warm, so solid beside you. And the musky blend of sweat and oaky deodorant is difficult to ignore this close. You actively have to resist the urge to bury your face in his underarm to inhale his scent.

You try to move away, but Caleb doesn’t let you budge, not while he inspects you carefully. It’s hard to breathe with his soft gaze flitting all over your face. After a few excruciating moments he raises his hands in defeat.

“Alright, alright. If you say so,” he sighs. “Now hand me the remote.”

You go to pass it to him, but you pull it completely from his grasp at the last second.

“No way!” You wag the remote in his face. “You chose the movie last time.”

“That was months ago, and–” he snatches the remote from you with ease, “it doesn’t matter if it was my idea to watch a movie in the first place. Plus, I’m practically a guest here. You should be a lot nicer to me.”

“What kind of guest cooks and cleans for their host?”

“And does all the laundry. Don’t forget laundry.” He pauses as if in deep thought. “As it turns out, I do basically everything for you, huh?”

No use arguing there. If you do, he’ll ‘threaten’ to stop doing all these chores for you.

“You win, go ahead and pick something good please.”

Leave it to Caleb to pick the most boring movie on the planet. While the space scenes are visually stunning, it’s a rare break from the overall monotony of the film. And you’ve barely made it through the first hour; you don’t know if you have another two in you.

In fact, it’s so boring that you can’t even watch it to distract yourself from Caleb, who still has your rigid form pressed snug against his side. You feel like you’re about to explode from the frustration of being in his grasp, unable to reciprocate his affection without jumping on him.

You need to relax. You’re sure he can feel your fragile heart galloping in your chest but has been kind enough not to mention it.

With a sigh of defeat, you settle against him finally, rest your head on his shoulder. Focus on his breaths, in and out, in and out. The rhythm, slow and relaxed, is soothing to you. Exactly what you need.

Your eyes flutter shut as your breath syncs with Caleb’s. He can’t distract you if you’re asleep.

...But then again, he could reappear in your dreams. That would be more of a nightmare at this moment.

“You tired pipsqueak?” Caleb asks against your temple. “You’re nice and cuddly like this. You remind me of a little shrimp.”

“All these years I thought this movie would be more entertaining. You were always watching it.”

“Sorry you’re not feeling it. What can I do to cure your boredom then?” He asks, humor in his tone.

Your lips spread with a smile, but it falls away when you open your eyes again. His face is so close to yours, and you’re confronted with how beautiful he is. How much he’s changed since going off to the academy. Before you know it, your lips brush his in a slow, charged kiss. So soft that it makes the sudden flick between your eyebrows hurt that much more.

“–Earth to Pipsqueak,” Caleb says, hand still poised at your forehead. “Ah, there she is! Where’d ya go just then?”

You jump to the edge of the couch, your skin scalding. You’re horrified by how vivid your imagination is.

Caleb pauses the movie. He scrutinizes you, brows pinched and eyes brimming with pain. They pin you in place when you would much rather run and hide.

“Remember how we promised not to keep any secrets from each other?” he asks quietly.

“…Yeah, but why are you bringing it up now?”

“Since we agreed not to have any secrets…be honest. Am I bothering you?”

All the blood drains from your face. “Huh? No, of course not.”

“Now that I think about it, you’ve been acting very strange lately. Jumpy and jittery anytime I’m around. What gives?”

“Caleb, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Look, you’ve gotta know by now that you can talk to me about anything. No matter how embarrassing or difficult. We don’t have to tiptoe around each other like we’re following an instruction manual. And I hate worrying about you. So please, just…rip the bandaid off.”

“I have a crush on you!” You blurt out miserably. “That’s why I’ve been… like this. And it might be weird to you, but that’s how I feel.”

“Seriously?” Caleb asks. He looks… delighted? You weren’t expecting that.

“Seriously,” you say, a little more confidence in your voice. “But we can’t cross that line.”

“You sure about that?” There’s a flirtatious lilt to his words that you can’t ignore to save your life.

“Maybe the line was crossed the moment you thought about this.” Caleb moves back into your space, splays his hands on your rib cage. He pushes you gently onto the couch cushion until you lay flat before his kneeling figure.

“Since the line has already been crossed… why not go all the way?”

Caleb tugs the waistband of your shorts down slightly and presses a wet kiss to the skin right above the scalloped hem of your underwear. You gasp sharply, and you shiver when you feel him smile against the line of your hips in response.

He surges upward to bring his face in between your breasts; grabs and kisses them through the thin material of your tank top.

“This shirt is new, right? It doesn’t have your scent yet,” he says between kisses. “Let me guess, you bought this just for me.”

You can only nod. But it’s enough for Caleb to groan against your right breast and finally bring it into his mouth. He sucks on your clothed nipple hard, and you hiss from the pain.

“E-easy. They’re sensitive.”

“Sorry.” He kisses the center of your chest in apology, then hikes up your top over your breasts. He massages them in both his hands before he licks your other nipple to a stiff peak. The shock of his mouth on your skin again has you writhing against him.

He kisses a trail along your left breast and up towards the juncture between your neck and shoulder, where he bites down hard. You cry out as Caleb sucks and laves his tongue on the bite. The sting of it makes your cunt tighten in anticipation.

“It’s already bruising. Sorry about that,” he whispers directly in your ear. His warm breath on your heated skin leaves you lightheaded.

“Stop teasing me,” you whine.

“The girl of my dreams just told me she has feelings for me. Excuse me for trying to savor the moment.”

“The girl of your–”

Caleb cuts you off with a kiss, finally. Plush lips lock with yours as he slowly grinds his hips into you. His tongue dips into your mouth eagerly, and you bury a hand in his hair to pull him closer. It feels so good being under him like this, touching and kissing him like this. You don’t know if you’ll ever get enough Caleb.

As soon as you press your hips to meet his, he breaks away from the kiss. Caleb kneels before you once again and yanks down your shorts, leaving you only in panties made shear from your arousal. He lifts your bottom half upward until your knees rest on your shoulders, and your pussy is presented to him.

Caleb presses his face into you and inhales deeply. His eyes roll back into his head, and he gives a pained groan. Goosebumps decorate your quivering body as he runs his thumb over the soaked fabric. When he presses the digit on your clit, more of your slick gushes out of you. He impatiently pushes your panties halfway down your thighs; you can now see the tufts of hair on your mound glistening with arousal. A wave of embarrassment threatens to drown you at the sight, but it pales in comparison to the absolute mortification you feel when Caleb spreads you open with his thumbs and spits onto your already drenched center. You can hardly breathe as he rubs his spit into your folds and dips one of his thumbs into your tight entrance, shallowly fucking you with it but not for long enough. He leaves you clenching around nothing.

There’s an unfocused haze clouding his vibrant eyes when he spits on your cunt again. He seems to be putting all his focus into finding out what makes you gasp and moan.

Which turns out to be anything he does to you. Shocking.

“You’re so wet,” he says as he eases you back onto the couch. “Let me try…”

You whimper when he first licks your pussy, a broad stroke of his tongue over soaked flesh.

“Mmm, I like it. You’re so sweet.”

You watch him suck on your clit and lick your folds in pure astonishment. He’s really getting into it, kissing your pussy like he did your mouth. You massage one of your breasts, pinching and tugging on your nipple, and grab a fistful of his hair. He pushes his tongue into you and your thighs clench around his head.

Caleb moans into you, takes hold of your thighs, and pushes them apart again. As if in retaliation, he begins his wicked assault on your clit. He flicks his tongue against it and hollows his cheeks when he slurps it back into his mouth. Your body shakes in his hold; all of your nerves feel raw. You cum when he catches your swollen nub between his teeth. Tears streak your cheeks and your essence stains his face. But he doesn’t stop, he keeps on working you up until the overstimulation gets to be too much for you. You use the hand in his hair to tug him away.

Caleb sits up and smirks at you, all too satisfied with the mess he’s reduced you to. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then helps you sit up also. He situates you on his lap, hands on your ass, mouth around one of your tits as you both grind on each other.

Although you feel so good, you don’t like giving him the upper hand. You set your teeth into his kiss-swollen bottom lip and tug it gently as you pull away from him completely. He chases after your lips, but you move off his waist in favor of kneeling on the cushion beside him. A smirk of your own plays on your face when you reach for the waistband of his basketball shorts. His wide eyes are dark with desire.

“Shit,” he sighs when his cock springs up against his abs. “Lick the sides of it, all of it.”

The lust you feel overrides the irritation of having him tell you what to do. You suck one of his balls into your mouth so as not to heed his command right away. His cock jumps and his abdomen spasms at the sensation. Pre spurts out of him in a thick rivulet.

“Let me clean that up.” You lick along the length of him, moaning at the salty taste of pre-cum and sweat. His entire body shudders when you trace the tip of your tongue under the glans of his cock before taking it in your mouth.

“Show me how much you want it,” Caleb groans. “Spit on it.”

You do as he says, a frothy trail of saliva dripping from your lips onto the flushed tip. You jerk his cock a few times; your hand just barely wraps around it. You wonder briefly if you’ll be able to even take all of him. But the look of complete bliss on his face, from just a few pumps of your hand makes you eager to try. You open your mouth wide to take him, bobbing your head about halfway.

“You can go lower,” Caleb encourages. He caresses your bare back and kneads your ass, gentle touches that make you arch into them. You relax your throat to swallow more of him. He swears harshly under his breath again, and then you feel two fingers push into your pussy.

You pull away from his cock with a gasp and jerk him off as you try to catch your breath. But Caleb fucking his fingers into you certainly doesn’t help.

“Knock it off.” You spit on his cock again, squeeze it a bit tighter when you reach the tip. “It’s my turn.”

“I can't make you feel good, too? Hmm?” Caleb asks as you glare at him. He curls his fingers into your sweet spot and you cum again. Eyes clenched and legs going weak. You collapse onto your side, and Caleb guides your head so your cheek rests on his stomach.

“You have such a cute face,” he groans. “I just wanna fuck it.”

He keeps one hand on the top of your head and guides his cock back into your mouth with the other. He thrusts his hips upward, and you gag at the sudden intrusion.

You massage his balls as he fucks your mouth. The hinge of your jaw is starting to get sore with the effort of sucking him off, but hearing him gasp and moan above you, feeling his thighs twitch beneath you... It’s worth it, knowing that you’re able to make him feel this good.

You want to be the only one making him feel this good.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do all this to you,” Caleb moans. He thrusts into you more sloppily, your only sign before he buries himself down your throat and cums, your name a pleasured gasp on his lips. You’ve never heard a more beautiful sound.

Caleb pulls himself out of your mouth once he’s finished. You’re shocked to see his cock has barely softened, still erect and shiny. He must know you’re ogling it, because he asks, “Wanna try riding it?”

You straighten up and nod.

“Good. Get up here.”

Caleb positions your knees on either side of his waist again and kisses you. His tongue strokes yours in a slow seduction. He seems content to take his time working you up. But you’re aching for him. You reach for the base of his cock so you can guide it into your swollen pussy. Already you feel sated just from sitting on it.

Caleb lays beneath you, and you brace yourself with one hand on the back of the couch, the other on a cushion so you can rock your hips against him. You’re so full, you want to keep him buried inside you forever.

He lifts you by your waist and pushes you down onto his length as he presses deep into you. Your walls clench around him, and he hisses sharply. Caleb pulls you down until you lay chest to chest. He takes hold of your ass and bounces you in time with his thrusts.

“It’s so good,” you whine.

“You like it when I fuck you this deep?”

“I do.”

“Hmm? I can’t hear you.” He plants his feet and pistons his hips into you faster.

“Caleb! I love it, I love it,” you cry out.

He grabs your face and pulls you in for a messy kiss as you cum and cry for him. Your pussy tightens around him as your essence coats your thighs and his.

He lifts you off him and repositions you so you sit on his face like you would on the couch. He wraps his lips around yours and sucks. Everything he does makes you crazy with desire, and you’re desperate to return the favor. You lean onto your side and take his cock back into your mouth, using your hand to pump the rest of him. You hollow your cheeks like he did to your poor clit earlier, trace your tongue along his frenulum.

The room is filled with the wet sounds of you two bringing each other to orgasm. It’s as if you’re competing to see who can push who to climax first.

You sob when Caleb lifts you off his face, but he swiftly repositions you so your back drapes over his chest and he pushes back inside you with a rumbling groan. He maneuvers your bunched up tank top off and fucks up into you at a fast pace. He alternates between playing with your bouncing breasts and toying with your swollen clit. Drool leaks out of your mouth with every second of unbelievable pleasure he puts you through.

Caleb hooks his elbows under your knees and folds you in half again. He braces his hands on the either side of your neck and pounds into your softened pussy. The angle makes you feel faint; he’s so deep, you’re wound up so tight.

He shifts you both onto your sides, dropping your left leg so he can swipe at your clit; your right leg propped up even higher by his elbow. He continues to drive himself into you hard. Your vision blurs from the intensity of this moment. You can’t believe he’s fucking you in the living room.

You can’t believe he’s fucking you in the living room.

“Caleb, wait,” you pant. “What if Grandma comes back?”

“Relax, I told you–ungh–she won’t be back until late.”

You know he’s probably right, but the thought of her coming home, catching you both like this, terrifies you. But the fear is somehow electrifying and before you know it you reach an orgasm like no other. You can’t stop cumming on his cock as he languidly fucks you through it.

“Caleb!” You wail.

“My name isn’t a safe word.” He kisses you roughly then sucks on your nipple. “Saying my name won’t make me stop.”

“Please, let’s just go to your, ahh! Your room!”

“Alright, alright,” he laughs. “You are so hard to please.”

He pulls out of you and stands up from the couch. You reach out for him, and he picks you up with ease before slamming you back on his cock. He uses your body like he would a fleshlight, bouncing you on his length so effortlessly even as he walks you both to his room.

Caleb kicks his door closed behind him. He lays you down among his pillows, still plowing into you. The necklace you gave him sways in your face; the sight of it heats your blood to boiling.

“Fuck,” he drawls. He pulls his cock out with a lewd squelch and fucks his hand at a furious pace, concentrating on its head so that milky droplets of cum adorn your body.

Caleb tears his shirt off so he can lay flush on your chest to kiss you, slow and hungry. He weighs you down so deliciously, and yet you wrap your legs around his waist, arms on his back, wanting him closer still.

“Mmm,” he groans before another kiss. “You wanna keep going at it?”

“Yes, I want all of you.”

“Alright,” he flips you onto your knees, lifts your hips up into the air. He leans over your back to whisper right in your ear.

“But now I’ll be rougher. This time… you can’t tell me to stop.”

Caleb grabs your waist to the point of bruising and impales you on his dick. He pulls you back onto him as he pistons his hips against your ass. His balls slap against your clit with every heavy press of his dick in your sopping wet cunt, striking you with a jolt of lightning each time your bodies meet.

You feel a hand card through your hair before it’s pulled hard. You cry out at the white-hot pain, the lick of lightning that zings down your back as it’s forced into a deep arch.

“You’re so sexy like this. Letting me fuck you however I want.”

“Ca-Caleb…Fuck! You’re gonna make me cum again.”

“Yeah? You like my cock that much? But you thought it was a good idea to ignore me?”

Caleb’s palm comes down on your ass hard. The shock and sting of it makes your walls spasm around him. His words melt your brain. You cum so hard that your body shivers with prickly pleasure.

He presses your face into the pillows and fucks you harder. You groan, feeling too much. His skin sticking to yours, cum running down your thighs. Your throat is sore when you rasp his name.

His hands wrap around your elbows, and he yanks you back onto him. He fucks into you messily. The sounds of your fervent coupling arouse you to no end despite the overstimulation that takes hold of you.

“Gonna cum again like a good girl, hmm?” He growls.

You moan in response. Caleb hooks one arm under both of yours and pulls you closer to him. His pace hardly falters.

“I asked you a question.” He lands a quick slap to your clit and you yelp. “Or are you so fucked out for me that you can’t even speak? I’m fucking you that good, huh?”

Caleb releases your arms to wrap his own around your torso. He grabs your breasts and throat, and your breaths leave you shallowly. Your wanton moans fill the air as Caleb pounds his cock into your softened walls.

“So... Fucking...Good,” you groan. “Fuck don’t stop. Don’t stop!”

Caleb presses into your sweet spot more forcefully. That coupled with his fingers on your twitching clit leaves you no other choice but to plummet into the throes of yet another earth-shattering orgasm. You fall limp against Caleb’s chest; your mouth stretches around a whisper-soft shriek.

He holds you tight in his overwhelming embrace. His hips grind into you at a slower, sloppier pace as he shoots his cum deep inside your cunt. You feel his cock finally soften as you try to breathe.

“Your eyes are fluttering again. Rest. I’ll hold you.”

Caleb settles you both into the bed, his spent cock still snug within your cunt. He wraps himself around you, legs tangled with yours, his cheek on your temple. The soft vibrations of his words are enough to coax you into a sleepy state.

“So, this is what it feels like to have you in my arms,” he whispers. “Should I hold you even tighter?”

“Please,” you mumble. He wraps his arms around your center again and hugs you close.

“I thought you wouldn’t like this. You dislike the feeling of being ensnared, right? Am I the exception?”

“Mhmm.”

Your entire body is sore when you wake up. Muscles ache as you push yourself to sit up in bed. You take stock of your surroundings as you wake up. You’re dressed in one of Caleb’s oversized t-shirts, and you’ve been cleaned up. The scent of sex is a heavy, heady cloud in the air. And the summer sun outside the window casts the room in a burnt orange glow. There’s a beauty to this quiet moment that you want to cherish.

...Did Caleb really fuck you that good? You’re in here waxing poetic about everything you see. You’ve never felt this blissed out before.

The door to his bedroom eases open and Caleb appears with a glass of water in hand. A swarm of butterflies takes flight in your stomach when he smiles at you affectionately. You’re not sure what to say to him. Even after...everything, you feel so shy before him.

You forget all about that when a succulent scent wafts into the room.

“Do I smell braised pork? So, I was able to convince you after all.”

“You know when it comes to food, there’s really no underestimating what you can do. You sure you don’t want me to cook you a nice, juicy wyrmlord?”

“You have enough energy to tease me?” You ask.

“And then some. I could make you cum all day, every day for a week and still find the time to toy with you.”

You fling a pillow at his head that he catches with a boyish laugh.

“Careful, you’ll spill the water I so thoughtfully brought you. Drink up.” Caleb holds the glass to your lips, and the heated look he gives you prompts you to open your mouth and take a few sips. Some water trickles out from the corner of your mouth as you do, so Caleb puts the glass on his nightstand and wipes it from your chin and bottom lip with his thumb.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a smile on your face despite your burning cheeks.

“Well, you did call me selfish earlier.”

“Because you were hogging the bathroom. What did you expect?”

“It just reminded me of one time when we were younger. When you first called me selfish. It left a deep impression on me.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Caleb sits down beside you in bed. He presses a kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there as he speaks. “You know I’ve always wanted to grow up as a generous…you know.”

Your face heats up at the implication.

“And you weren’t far off. I can be downright selfish sometimes. I want you to let me occupy every part of your life. That’s why it hurt so much when you were avoiding me.”

“I’m sorry Caleb. I just...wanted you to belong only to me. And I didn’t think that was possible, so I lost my head a little bit.”

"If you want all of Caleb...Well, I’m yours. And I’ll be right here, too.” He places a hand over your heart. “I always have been, I always will be.”

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inkdrinkerworld · 1 year ago

Note

hi! i saw you were taking requests for post prison spencer, so hey

i was thinking about spencer meeting a kinda sunshine reader, and it’s like…love at first sight. she’s literally the one to make him smile for good

feel free to add your magic to it, and to ignore it, don’t feel pressure at all!

have a good day/night <3

babe you guys are saving my life with these requests right now! I'm feeling so good about everything I write again <3 enjoy sunshine!reader x post prison!spencer who looks less tense and serious around you

You’re at his desk, sitting there all perfect in your orange button up and flared pants, Mary Janes clicking on the linoleum tile as you tap your pen against your lips. Your hair is scraped back into a ponytail, the plait brushing the spot between your shoulder blades.

Spencer had asked about you to Penelope, asked about your personality, about how you work- all the important things. What he didn’t ask was if you were gorgeous and Penelope, who loves to divulge, had never said a thing about your looks.

“Hi, you’re Y/n right?” Spencer’s standing before you, not realising how intimidating he must look till you jolt in your chair.

You’d been trying to get your morning crossword and read in before the day had officially begun, a habit you’d been trying to keep up with since you started the job. So far it’s been going- the crosswords are boring so you have to pretend to be distracted by it to let it last a bit more than four minutes.

“Oh sorry, I am. You’re Doctor Spencer Reid,” you lean back in your chair, not bothering to hold out a hand to you. Penelope had grilled you on his aversion to germs and touching people more than needed. “I’m sorry about taking over your desk, but they didn’t have any free ones.”

Spencer shakes his head, you take a moment to look him over. His hair is a bit looser than you’d imagined, Penelope said curly hair and you’d thought tight spirals- he has pretty loose ringlets, dark and mocha-like.

He smells like leather and something else, maybe plum and black currant- it’s a bit of an all encompassing smell that you like already. He’s much prettier too, he looks tired, but still pretty. His stubble presents a problem, you know it’s going to be your downfall.

“It’s alright, we keep a tight ship. Have they been treating you well?”

You tilt your head, “The team or the unsubs? Because it’s been too many cases to have real team building.” You grin when Spencer huffs, making his lips twitch. “But I think getting concussed while saving Newbie’s ass counts for something.”

Luke grumbles as he walks by with his coffee, “You were hired after I was,” patting Spencer on the back when the taller, lithe, man rolls a chair to sit opposite you.

“Do you still experience headaches or migraines?” Spencer kicks himself when he sees your tongue poke into your cheek- you’re trying hard not to smile at his question. He also thinks he’s doing a shoddy job of flirting but that can be fixed- he’s been in prison for the last three months, he just needs to get back in the swing of things.

“I’m pretty sure your first official day back starts with you in Emily’s office and not giving me an impromptu physical, Dr. Reid.” His lips twitch again, cheeks jumping as he shakes his head.

“It’s just a check-up, no physical yet.” he stands, not really giving himself time to overthink what he’s just said. It’s more than a little presumptuous on his part but you don’t call him an asshole or swear at him, so he thinks he’s okay with it.

“Do you want your desk back, Spencer?” you’re earnest in asking, not wanting to fuck up his routines and his norm. You can tell you like him already and it’s hardly been a fifteen minute conversation.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll take the one right there.” Spencer points a finger to the desk right in behind yours with a little less severity to his lips, his stubble looking even more attractive as he does so.

You watch him walk away, willing yourself to be professional about all this, he may be hot but he’s your coworker and you know all about close proximity relationships possibly being shams. You’re not here for that, so Spencer will be a good friend.

You make your way into the kitchen, steps light as you reach for your mug- a cute blue mug with an orca as the handle.

“So you come in and the kid’s already obsessed with you?” Rossi’s right beside you, making you jump as you put more than the recommended amount of tablespoons of coffee into your mug.

“It’s not like that, you all made him out to be this awkward shy mess and he isn’t.” You try to sound as casual as you can, but you profile your own voice and know how it sounds to everyone- wistful.

“Maybe he’s seen a pretty girl and the ‘awkward shy mess’ melted away,” Rossi places his hands on your shoulders. “He’s a good kid. You can trust in that.”

You roll your eyes, stirring your coffee. “I’m pretty sure he’s in his thirties, Rossi.” You take the milk from him, pouring it in till your coffee is just at the lip of your mug and smile. “Definitely too old.”

Rossi waves his hand, “I’ve been married four times, old isn’t a marker for romance anymore. Not when you’re only twenty four.” He leaves you be for a moment, and on your walk back to your desk to fill out the remaining crosswords you mull over his words.

As you sit, you look down and find it all filled out in black ink, opposed to your blue and you know who did it, if the messy scrawled message is anything to go by- ‘You should get The Washington Post puzzles, much more stimulating.’

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lila-lou · 7 months ago

Text

✨Peanut✨

Summary: Stuck in a safe house with Soldier Boy is a test of patience—and nerves. He’s sharp-tongued, cocky, and impossible to ignore, pushing your boundaries just to see you flinch. You try to keep your distance, but he has a way of getting under your skin. You’re supposed to keep him in check, but the real challenge might be keeping yourself together.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Nickname, Shy!Reader, MENTION!Reader was touched without consent, Ben being as cocky as ever, some kind of fluff i guess

Word Count: 10523 (long ass shit here, lol)

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The room felt heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to make the next move. Soldier Boy—Ben, as Butcher had instructed you to call him—sat at the battered wooden table in the middle of the safe house. He was grinding pills into powder with the flat of his knife, muttering to himself, the motion aggressive and precise. Every scrape of the blade against the wood sent shivers down your spine.

You kept your eyes fixed on the television, not really watching whatever rerun was playing. It didn’t matter. Nothing could drown out the weight of his presence. The way he dominated the space even when he wasn’t speaking. Even when he wasn’t looking at you.

You didn’t know why he tolerated you. Out of all the people who’d tried to babysit him since Butcher hauled him out of whatever Russian nightmare he’d been buried in, you were the only one still standing. Maybe it was because you didn’t push him. Or maybe it was because you were too afraid to even try.

Two years ago, your fear of supes had been planted like a landmine in your chest. One night, one supe, one scar across your soul. That was all it took to change you forever. Now, being in the same room as one, especially him, felt like walking barefoot through a minefield. One wrong step, and everything could go to hell. Literally, in his case.

Ben scooped the powder into a neat little line, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “You don’t have to sit there like a deer in headlights, you know”, he drawled, not looking up. His voice was gravelly, tinged with a roughness that made you want to shrink further into the couch. “Not gonna bite”.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of the couch cushion. “I’m fine here”, you said quickly, your voice thin and brittle.

“Sure you are”. He leaned back in his chair, his shirt unbuttoned enough to show a glimpse of the skin of his chest. That chest. The one that could, and had, turned entire blocks into ash. He tapped his nose twice before snorting the line with practiced ease, sighing as he leaned back again. “You’re terrible at pretending, you know that?”.

Your breath hitched, and you cursed yourself for it. He noticed everything. “Pretending what?”, you muttered, eyes glued to the TV screen.

“That you’re not scared shitless of me”, he said, his tone almost amused now. “It’s cute. Kind of pathetic, but cute”.

Your stomach twisted. The urge to snap back at him rose like bile, but you shoved it down. Provoking him was the last thing you wanted to do. Instead, you focused on keeping your voice steady. “I’m not scared of you”.

Ben laughed—deep, low, and sharp enough to make you flinch. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart”.

You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to keep your breathing even. This was your job. This was what Butcher had asked of you. Watch over him, keep him in line, don’t let him blow anything up. Easier said than done when every fiber of your being was screaming to get the hell out of there.

Ben finally looked at you, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you”. His tone softened—just barely—but it still sent a shiver down your spine. “Not unless you give me a reason to”.

That didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but you nodded anyway, not trusting yourself to speak.

He reached for another pill, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You know”, he said, his voice quieter now, “it’s exhausting, being treated like a goddamn bomb all the time”.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze fixed on the table as he rolled the pill between his fingers. For a moment, he almost seemed… human. Vulnerable.

But you didn’t know what to say. Didn’t trust yourself to say anything. So you just stayed where you were, curled up on the couch, watching him out of the corner of your eye and praying you wouldn’t be the one to set him off.

Ben tossed the pill back, swallowing it dry like it was nothing before reaching for the whiskey bottle on the table. He took a swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood up. For one fleeting second, you thought he might leave the room, give you some space to breathe. But no—he grabbed a bag of popcorn from the counter, ripped it open with his teeth, and made his way to the couch.

You tensed immediately. There were at least three other places he could sit, but no, he dropped himself right beside you. Not just close—touching. His thigh pressed firmly against yours, the heat of him seeping through the fabric of your jeans like a live wire.

Your body locked up, your heart hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. If he noticed your discomfort—and of course, he did—he didn’t let on. He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, his eyes flicking toward the TV screen before turning to you.

“Whatcha watching?”, he asked casually, his voice a little softer now but still holding that rough, unshakable edge.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… whatever was on”.

He snorted. “Riveting choice”. Another handful of popcorn disappeared into his mouth, and he leaned back, spreading out like he owned the place. Which, let’s face it, he kind of did. Every room he entered felt like it bent to him, like the walls themselves were trying to make room for him and his ego.

As the minutes dragged on, he kept up the small talk. About the shitty popcorn, the weather, the ancient couch springs that squeaked every time one of you shifted. His tone was light, conversational, but his eyes… his eyes were anything but.

He wasn’t looking at the TV anymore. He was watching you. Really watching you. The way your shoulders hunched in on themselves like you were trying to make yourself smaller. The way your hands fidgeted with the hem of your hoodie. The way your legs were pressed tightly together, like you were trying to disappear into the cushions.

“You’re tiny”, he said abruptly, almost thoughtfully, his gaze dragging up and down your frame. “Like, seriously. How are you even a person? You’re what, a buck twenty soaking wet?”.

You stiffened, your face flushing. “I’m… normal-sized”, you mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, low and gravelly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Normal? Sweetheart, if I even looked at you wrong, you’d probably snap in half”.

Your stomach churned at the words, at the casual way he said them. Like it wasn’t a threat, just a fact. And maybe it was. He wasn’t wrong—he could break you without even trying. Supe or not, he was built like a goddamn tank, and you… well, you weren’t.

His gaze lingered on you, sharp and appraising, like he was trying to figure you out. “What’re you so scared of, huh?”, he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “You think I’m gonna hurt you?”.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The lump in your throat was too big, your fear too loud.

“Relax, doll”, he said, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “If I wanted to crush you, I wouldn’t need to waste my time sitting here talking to you, now would I?”.

That didn’t make you feel any better. In fact, it made your skin crawl. But you nodded anyway, because what else could you do?

Ben smirked as he leaned back, stretching his arm casually over the back of the couch. He popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing slowly, his eyes never leaving you.

“So”, he drawled, cocking an eyebrow. “Got a boyfriend, Peanut?”.

The word caught you off guard, and you glanced at him sharply, your confusion momentarily outweighing your fear. “P-Peanut?”, you stammered, the nickname so unexpected it almost made you forget how close he was.

He grinned, his teeth flashing white against his scruffy beard. “Yeah, Peanut. You’re tiny, right? Probably weigh, what, eighty-five? Ninety pounds tops? I could pick you up with one hand, and you’d barely be a snack”. He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, like he found the whole thing hilarious. “Peanut fits”.

Your face burned with embarrassment, but you didn’t say anything. What could you say? He wasn’t exactly wrong, but hearing it said out loud—especially by him—made you feel smaller than ever. You tucked your legs up under you, trying to create some kind of barrier between his imposing presence and your body.

“C’mon”, he said, his voice lighter now, teasing almost. “You seriously don’t have some guy waiting around for you? Someone to take care of you? Feels like you’d need a bodyguard just to make it through the grocery store”.

You shook your head, your voice barely audible. “No boyfriend”.

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. “Huh. Surprising. A thing like you? I’d think guys would be lining up”.

His words weren’t comforting. They weren’t meant to be. They carried an undertone that made your stomach twist, a reminder of how easily he could take you if he wanted to. You shifted uncomfortably, pulling your hoodie tighter around yourself like it could somehow shield you from the heat of his gaze.

“What’s the matter, Peanut?”, he asked. “I’m just making conversation. You don’t have to look so freaked out all the time”.

“I’m not freaked out”, you lied, your voice trembling just enough to betray you.

He snorted, clearly not buying it. “Sure you’re not”. He leaned forward suddenly, resting his elbows on his knees, bringing himself closer to you. The smell of whiskey and faint cigar smoke clung to him, mingling with something sharper, something distinctly him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. Told you already, didn’t I?”.

You nodded again, but the tension in your body didn’t ease. If anything, it grew worse as his eyes traveled over you again, lingering in ways that made you want to sink into the couch and disappear.

“Man”, he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re wound up tighter than a fucking spring”. He reached for the popcorn bag again, the casual motion a stark contrast to the intensity of his words. “I don’t know what the hell Butcher was thinking, sticking me with you. You’re not exactly intimidating”.

You bristled at that, a tiny flicker of indignation breaking through your fear. “I wasn’t supposed to intimidate you”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just… here to keep an eye on you”.

He laughed—loud and abrupt, the sound startling in the otherwise quiet room. “You’re supposed to keep an eye on me?”. He leaned back again, throwing one arm across the back of the couch again and grinning down at you like he’d just heard the best joke of his life. “Fuck. That’s rich”.

You didn’t respond, biting your lip to keep the words locked in. You couldn’t afford to snap, couldn’t afford to give him a reason to escalate. Not with how close he was. Not with how easily he could overpower you.

Ben’s laugh faded into a low hum, almost as if he were talking to himself, but the words were loud enough to reach you. “You know”, he muttered, swirling the last of the whiskey in the bottle before setting it on the floor, “I could help you relax. You’re all wound up like a little bird that flew into the wrong fucking cage”.

The comment made your stomach tighten, your pulse spiking as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze wasn’t on the TV. It wasn’t even on the popcorn anymore. It was on you. Slowly, deliberately, like he was working through some kind of internal checklist, his eyes dragged from your face, to your neck, to the way your hoodie hugged your body.

“Yeah”, he said, his voice dropping lower, rougher.

“I’d probably crush you. Tiny little thing like you. But…”. He leaned his head back against the couch, as though considering something deeply. “I could figure it out. Work on my self-restraint”. He exhaled sharply through his nose, almost like a laugh, but it didn’t carry any humor. “Not sure you’d survive, though”.

Your throat went dry, and your mind raced for something—anything—to say to steer the conversation somewhere less terrifying. But the words wouldn’t come. It was like your brain had shut down entirely, overwhelmed by the weight of his presence and the dark, unsettling undertone to his words.

“I mean, shit”, he went on, almost lazily, like he was just idly musing. “It’d be a tight fit, no doubt about that. But I’d manage”. He turned his head toward you, one eyebrow quirking as though he was waiting for some kind of reaction. “What d’you think, Peanut? Think you could handle me?”.

Your heart felt like it might explode. You shifted slightly, trying to put even an inch of space between you, but the couch offered no escape. He noticed, of course he noticed, and the smirk on his face only widened.

“Relax”, he said again, though this time it sounded more like a command than a suggestion. “I’m just messing with you”. He leaned back again, popping another piece of popcorn into his mouth like the last thirty seconds hadn’t just happened.

But the tension in the air didn’t dissipate. His words lingered, sinking into your mind like oil, staining everything. You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too loudly, your entire body coiled as tightly as a spring.

Ben glanced at you again, his expression unreadable now, the grin gone. “You really gotta lighten up, Peanut”, he said, almost absently. “You’re making me feel like a fucking monster”.

You wanted to tell him he wasn’t making it easy. That his very presence was suffocating. That every word out of his mouth only fed the gnawing pit of fear in your stomach. But you couldn’t. So you stayed silent, staring at the TV and praying that he’d get bored soon. That the night would end without him pushing any further.

Ben shifted slightly on the couch, the springs groaning under his weight. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as if lost in thought, but you could feel his attention still anchored on you, heavy and unrelenting.

“You know”, he started, his voice low and casual, “I heard Butcher and that cum-guzzler talking about you”. He popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing slowly as though giving himself time to savor the words that would follow. “Something about why you’re so jumpy around supes”.

Your heart clenched, and you went rigid. You hadn’t realized Butcher had told him—why would he? What purpose would it serve, giving Soldier Boy ammunition? You glanced at him sharply, trying to gauge his intentions, but his expression was frustratingly neutral, save for the slight quirk of a smirk playing on his lips.

He chuckled, low and gravelly, shaking his head. “Can’t say I blame you”, he continued. “Sounds like you had a real shitty time of it. Some asshole supe gets a little too handsy, decides he’s owed something just because he’s got powers. That about right?”.

The knot in your stomach tightened, but you didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat felt like it was closing, the weight of his words pulling every horrible memory to the surface.

Ben didn’t seem to need a response. He let out a long breath, his smirk fading as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “Here’s the thing, Peanut”, he said, his tone quieter now, almost contemplative. “Guys like that… they give the rest of us a bad name. Not that I give a shit about my reputation, but, you know, principle and all that”.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why… why are you bringing this up?”.

He shrugged, the motion casual, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed him. “Just thinking out loud. If that’s the only experience you’ve got with supes… well, no wonder you’re scared shitless. That’s the memory you’re stuck with”. His gaze slid to you, sharp and probing. “But maybe I could fix that”.

“Fix it?”, you echoed, your voice trembling. “What… what does that mean?”.

He smirked again, leaning back and stretching his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing just a hair’s breadth away from your shoulder. “I’m just saying”, he drawled, “maybe if you had a different kind of experience, you wouldn’t be so fucking scared all the time. Replace that shitty memory with a fucking awesome one”.

The implication in his words was crystal clear, and your stomach churned violently. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your hoodie, your nails digging into your palms. “That’s not…”. You trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not how it works”.

He tilted his head, studying you with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “You sure about that? Sometimes all it takes is one good memory to wipe out the bad. One moment to make you forget the rest of the bullshit”.

You shook your head, your pulse hammering in your ears. “I don’t think—”.

“Calm down, Peanut”, he interrupted, his voice dropping into that low, commanding tone again. “I’m not saying I’d do anything. Unless, you know, you wanted me to”.

Your breath hitched, and you pressed yourself further into the couch, as if the cushions could somehow swallow you whole. His gaze was piercing, unrelenting, and you could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, suffocating.

“But hey”, he continued after a moment, his tone lightening again as he grabbed another handful of popcorn. “It’s your call. I’m just saying… I could make it worth your while”.

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. Your mind was racing, your body frozen in place.

The safe house was quiet except for the distant hum of the water running in the bathroom. Ben was in the shower, and you were stuck on the couch, your nerves coiled tighter than ever. It had been weeks since that first night, weeks of this strange, unbearable dance between the two of you. He hadn’t pushed things too far, but he hadn’t stopped either. The teasing, the lingering touches, the weight of his gaze—it was constant, suffocating, impossible to ignore.

And now, as you sat there waiting for him, you hated yourself for the stupid summer dress you’d chosen to wear. It was hot, unbearably so, and the safe house didn’t have air conditioning. The dress had seemed like a practical choice at the time—lightweight, easy to move in—but now it felt like a mistake. The fabric clung to your skin and you couldn’t help but feel exposed. Vulnerable.

You shifted uncomfortably, pulling the dress down as far as it would go and wrapping your arms around yourself. It didn’t help. The room felt stifling, and the faint sound of the shower only added to the tension. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering, couldn’t stop the little voice whispering in the back of your head: What’s he going to say this time? What’s he going to do?

The shower shut off, and your breath caught. You stared at the TV, not really seeing it, your heart pounding as you heard the sound of the bathroom door creaking open.

Moments later, Ben emerged, a towel slung low around his hips and his hair damp, water droplets trailing down his chest. He was a vision of raw power and confidence, and he knew it. The smirk tugging at his lips told you as much.

“Hey, Peanut”, he said casually, like this was the most normal thing in the world. He grabbed a second towel and ran it through his hair, his muscles flexing with the motion. “Didn’t think I’d keep you waiting, did you?”.

You swallowed hard, your eyes darting back to the TV. “I wasn’t—”, you started, but your voice faltered. “I mean, I’m fine”.

“Sure you are”, he said, chuckling under his breath. He crossed the room, tossing the towel onto a chair as he made his way to the couch. You felt his presence before you saw him, the heat of him, the sheer weight of him, as he sat down beside you. Close. Too close. Again.

His eyes flicked to your dress, lingering for just a moment before he leaned back, draping his arm over the back of the couch. “Nice dress”, he commented, his tone light but his gaze sharp. “Didn’t know we were getting all dressed up today”.

Your face burned, and you tugged at the hem again, wishing it were longer. “It’s just… it’s hot”, you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

“That it is”, he agreed, his smirk widening. “But you didn’t have to go all out for me, Peanut. A little effort goes a long way, though, so… thanks”.

You clenched your jaw, your hands twisting the fabric of the dress in your lap. “I didn’t—”.

“I’m just messing with you. Don’t get so wound up”, his voice dropping into that familiar, teasing drawl.

You wanted to snap back, wanted to tell him to knock it off, but you couldn’t. You just sat there, frozen, your heart pounding as he shifted slightly closer, the edge of his thigh brushing against yours.

The problem wasn’t just that you were afraid of Ben anymore—though that fear was still there, lurking beneath every breath, every glance, every word. The problem was that, over the past few weeks, something else had crept in, something worse.

Attraction.

You hated yourself for it. Hated the way your pulse quickened when he smirked at you, the way your thoughts lingered on his voice, deep and rough like gravel underfoot. And now, as you sat beside him, that stupid towel slung so dangerously low on his hips, it was taking everything you had to keep your eyes on the TV.

But you failed. Of course, you did. Your gaze flicked toward him out of the corner of your eye, drawn like a moth to a flame. The towel clung to his hips precariously, the line of dark hair below his navel trailing downward, disappearing beneath the fabric. And lower—your breath hitched—the outline of him was visible, faint but undeniable.

You quickly looked away, your cheeks burning, your heart hammering in your chest. What the hell is wrong with me? you thought, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it almost hurt. This was Soldier Boy. Ben. The same man who teased you relentlessly, who could crush you without a second thought. A damn supe. And yet…

“You’re quiet, Peanut”, he said suddenly, his voice breaking through your frantic thoughts. His tone was casual, but you knew better than to believe it wasn’t deliberate. He always knew how to needle you just enough to get under your skin. “I mean, you’re always quiet, but today? What’s the deal?”.

You didn’t respond, your throat too dry to form a coherent excuse. You tried to keep your eyes locked on the TV, pretending to focus on the images flickering across the screen. But you could feel him watching you, the heat of his gaze sliding over your profile, lingering far too long for comfort.

“C’mon”, he pressed, his voice dropping an octave, rich and deep enough to make your stomach do an unwelcome flip. “You’re the only action I’ve got in this shithole they’re hiding me in. Least you could do is talk to me. I’m bored as hell over here”.

Your hands twisted in your lap, gripping the fabric of your dress like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not with the way his words made your skin flush and your heart pound.

“I don’t know what to say”, you mumbled finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben leaned back against the couch, his towel shifting just slightly. “You don’t have to say much, Peanut”, he drawled, his smirk audible in his tone. “Just give me something. Anything. Hell, even a complaint about how much you hate being stuck with me. I know you’ve got those”.

You glanced at him for just a split second, and that was your mistake. He was sprawled out, all lazy confidence, the towel still clinging low on his hips, the light from the TV casting faint shadows over his chest. The sight made your stomach twist, and you quickly looked away again, your cheeks burning.

“I don’t hate you”, you blurted out, immediately regretting it.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Don’t you now?”. His smirk deepened, and he leaned in just slightly, the arm draped over the back of the couch brushing your shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me with the way you can’t even look at me half the time”.

You swallowed hard, your fingers knotting into the hem of your dress. “I just…”, you stammered, unsure how to explain without giving away too much. “You make me nervous”.

Ben tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost curious. “Nervous, huh?”, he repeated, his voice quieter now, like he was mulling over the word. “Why? You still think I’m gonna hurt you?”.

“No”, you said quickly, though the fear still lingered at the edges of your mind. “It’s not that”.

“Then what?”, he asked, his tone deceptively gentle, but his gaze was sharp, unrelenting. “What is it about me that’s got you so wound up?”.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Your silence only seemed to amuse him further. He let out a low chuckle, leaning back again, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest.

“Shit, Peanut”, he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re like a puzzle I can’t quite figure out. Makes me want to push, see how far you’ll bend before you break”.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to keep your breathing steady, to keep your focus anywhere but on him. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep this up, this fragile pretense of calm, but you knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to let this go. Not tonight.

The tension in the room was suffocating, and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands trembled as you placed them on your thighs, pushing yourself up from the couch. “I… I need some water”, you mumbled, not daring to look at him. You didn’t wait for his response—if he even had one—and walked quickly toward the little kitchen tucked into the corner of the safe house.

Your footsteps felt too loud against the worn wooden floor, the tiny kitchen offering no real reprieve from his presence. You grabbed a glass from the cupboard, your fingers trembling slightly as you filled it from the tap. You told yourself the sound of running water would drown out the pounding of your heart, but it didn’t.

The quiet click of his footsteps behind you made you freeze.

“Thirsty, huh?”, Ben’s voice came from far too close, his tone casual but laced with that ever-present teasing edge. He was right behind you now—you could feel him, his heat radiating like a furnace, the space between you barely a breath.

“I just needed some space”, you said, your voice quiet and shaky, gripping the glass like it was a lifeline.

“Space?”, he echoed, like the word was foreign to him. You heard him shift, his hand brushing lightly against the counter as he leaned against it. “Still can’t handle being near me?”.

You froze, the glass trembling slightly in your hands as you felt him step even closer. His body was right behind yours now, close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his chest against your back every time you shifted.

“You look really pretty today”, he murmured, his voice softer now, quieter, but no less unsettling. His words sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you gripped the glass tighter, your knuckles turning white.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your hair, playing with a loose strand like it was the most natural thing in the world. The movement was slow, deliberate, as if he were testing your reaction.

“Didn’t think a little dress like that could make someone so…”. He trailed off, his fingers gently tucking the strand behind your ear from behind, his touch warm against your skin. “Sweet. You do surprise me, Peanut”.

Your heart pounded, your breath catching in your throat. “Ben, please…”, you whispered, barely able to get the words out. You didn’t know what you were asking for—for him to stop, to step back, to leave you alone—but your voice carried the weight of your unease.

“Oh c'mon now”, he murmured, his tone dipping into that low, velvety register that always made your stomach twist. “I’m just saying you look nice. No harm in that, right?”.

His hand lingered for a moment longer, brushing lightly against your shoulder, before he stepped back just enough to give you a fraction of space. But it didn’t feel like enough. The air around you still felt heavy, charged with his presence.

“You don’t take compliments well, do you?”, he asked, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice as he leaned casually against the counter. “What’s so scary about me telling you you’re pretty?”.

“Nothing”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben’s gaze dropped, shamelessly traveling down your body. You could feel it, the weight of his eyes lingering on your legs. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, and you caught the faint movement out of the corner of your eye. It sent a fresh wave of heat through your face, your stomach twisting into knots.

“You know”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing, almost contemplative, “it’s been quite a while for me.” He leaned a little closer, his arm brushing lightly against yours as he rested it on the counter beside you. “And with you here, looking like that, acting all shy and innocent…”.

He trailed off, his smirk widening as his gaze dragged back up to meet yours. “It’s really hard for me, Peanut”.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your breath caught in your throat. Your grip tightened on the edge of the counter, your knuckles white as you fought to keep yourself grounded. “Ben, stop”, you said softly, your voice barely audible, but there was a tremble in it you couldn’t hide.

“Stop what?”, he asked innocently, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him. He wasn’t innocent, not even close. “I’m just being honest. You don’t want me to lie, do you?”.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. His smirk was maddening, equal parts charming and infuriating, and the way he was looking at you—like he was sizing you up, deciding just how far he could push—made your pulse race for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m not… I’m not doing anything”, you stammered, your words tumbling over themselves. “I’m just—”.

“Just standing there, looking all sweet and pretty”, he interrupted, his tone playful. He straightened slightly, his height and presence towering over you as he leaned a little closer. “You have no idea, do you? How hard you make it for me to keep my hands to myself?”.

Your breath hitched, and you stepped back instinctively, the counter digging into your lower back as you put as much distance between you as you could in the small space. But he didn’t move closer—he just stayed there, watching you, his smirk softening into something almost… curious.

Ben’s smirk deepened as he watched you, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he was peeling back every layer of your defenses. “You know”, he murmured, his voice soft but still carrying that teasing edge, “I think you actually like me, Peanut”.

Your eyes widened at his words, and you shook your head quickly, your back pressing harder against the counter. “That’s not true”, you said, your voice trembling with the effort to sound convincing.

But he didn’t seem fazed. If anything, your reaction only amused him more. His hand darted out, slow and deliberate, resting gently on your hip. It wasn’t forceful, wasn’t threatening—it was almost careful, like he was testing the waters, giving you a chance to stop him.

Your breath hitched, and your body tensed under his touch. The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of your dress, the weight of his hand grounding you and overwhelming you all at once.

“You’re not pushing me away”, he said softly, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. His fingers flexed slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you he was there. “That’s gotta count for something”.

You opened your mouth to say something, to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, but no words came out. You were frozen, caught in the weight of his gaze, the closeness of him, the way his presence consumed every inch of space around you.

His other hand came up slowly, brushing against a strand of hair that had fallen into your face. He tucked it behind your ear, his touch featherlight, his green eyes locking onto yours. “You keep telling yourself you’re scared of me”, he murmured, his tone quiet, almost tender. “But I think you’re scared of something else”.

“Ben, I…”. Your voice cracked, and you trailed off, your hands clutching the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Shh”, he whispered, his hand on your hip shifting just slightly, his thumb brushing against the curve of your waist. “You don’t have to say anything, Peanut. Not if you don’t want to”.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your uneven breathing, the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner. His touch wasn’t rough or demanding, but it was firm, grounding, impossible to ignore.

And then, slowly, he leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “Just… Push me away if you want me to stop. Promise I won´t be mad”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips so close to yours you could feel the ghost of their presence.

Your heart pounded, your mind racing with conflicting emotions—fear, confusion, and something far more dangerous bubbling beneath the surface. You hated how much you craved his attention, hated how much his touch made your body betray you. But even as you stood there, frozen, his words echoed in your mind: Push me away.

Would you? Could you?

The choice was yours.

Bot you didn’t push him away. You stayed still, your breath hitching as Ben’s smirk deepened. He took your silence as permission—or maybe just a challenge he was eager to win.

Without a word, his hands slid more firmly around your waist. Before you could even process what was happening, he lifted you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. The glass of water slipped from your fingers, landing with a dull clink on the counter as he set you down atop it. The cool surface against the back of your thighs made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him.

He stepped closer, pressing himself between your legs, his movements deliberate and unyielding. Your legs opened instinctively to accommodate him, the fabric of your dress sliding up as you shifted. The hem bunched high on your thighs, and your stomach dropped when you realized how exposed you were. The little triangle of fabric between your legs was on full display, and Ben’s gaze dropped to it immediately, his lips curling into a wolfish grin.

“Well, would you look at that”, he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the faintest edge of amusement making it all the more dangerous. His hands trailed down to your knees, his thumbs brushing against the inside of your thighs, sending a shock of warmth through your body. “Peanut, you’ve been holding out on me”.

You squirmed, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as if it could anchor you against the storm of his presence. “Ben…”, you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure if it was a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

“Shh”, he said softly, his hands sliding higher, spreading your legs further apart. “I told you, I’m not gonna hurt you”.

But the way he looked at you—the hunger in his eyes, the possessive way his hands claimed your body—made your pulse race for entirely different reasons. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your neck as he pressed his hips against yours, his body firm and unyielding.

“You have no idea”, he whispered, his voice rough and thick with desire. “No idea how hard it’s been. Watching you, waiting for you to stop running, stop hiding. But now…”. His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Now I’ve got you right where I want you”.

Your heart pounded, your mind spinning as his hands continued their slow, deliberate exploration of your body. You hated how your body reacted to him, how the heat pooled low in your belly, how your breathing quickened despite yourself. Hated how much you wanted him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

And Ben—he knew it, too. You could see it in his smirk, in the way his eyes burned with triumph. He was in control, and he knew it. You wanted him, and that he sure knew too.

Ben’s smirk deepened as his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing teasingly against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His touch was firm but not rough, as if he were savoring every moment. He leaned back slightly to get a better look, his eyes darkening as they locked onto the little triangle of fabric barely covering you.

“You know”, he murmured, his voice low and full of heat, “I’ve been imagining this for weeks. But it’s even better than I thought”.

You opened your mouth to respond—to say something—but the words caught in your throat once more as he hooked a finger under the fabric. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, a wicked gleam in his green eyes as he gave you - again - just enough time to stop him.

But you didn’t.

With a sharp, controlled movement, he ripped the delicate material apart, the sound of tearing fabric echoing in the quiet kitchen. The force of it sent a jolt through your body, but it didn’t hurt. It was more of a shock—both from the action itself and the way his eyes devoured the sight before him.

Your breath hitched as the ruined panties fell away, leaving you bare to him. His hands stilled for a moment, his gaze fixated on your glistening, perfectly shaven lips. A low growl rumbled in his throat, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on your thighs.

”Fuck peanut”, he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “Look at you”.

Ben’s grip on your thighs tightened as his eyes darkened, roaming over every inch of you like you were something he was about to own. He let out a low, gravelly chuckle, shaking his head with that familiar smirk—cocky and unapologetically lewd.

“Is this what chicks are doing these days? All shaved, all fucking spotless?”. His thumb traced lazily along your inner thigh, teasing just close enough to make you squirm. “In the ’80s, everyone had a damn jungle down here. Didn’t matter who you were, movie star or some chick at a dive bar—hair everywhere. But this?”.

His thumb slid lower, brushing over the seam of your closed, glistening lips. The slickness made his touch effortless, his rough hands stark against your softness. “This is a whole fucking upgrade”, he murmured, almost to himself, his tone filthy and raw. “Smooth as hell… fuck Peanut, you’re like a fucking dream”.

Ben’s eyes stayed glued between your legs, completely enthralled, like he was witnessing something unreal. The pad of his thumb pressed further, parting your slick lips with almost lazy confidence. He slid it down to your entrance, where he paused, testing the way your body reacted to him.

“Fuck me”, he muttered under his breath, his voice gravelly and thick with lust. “You’re soaked, Peanut. Look at this. Look at you”.

Your breath hitched audibly, your chest rising and falling as his thumb pressed lightly against your entrance, his other hand tightening its grip on your thigh to keep you exactly where he wanted you. His touch was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.

“You’re fucking perfect”, he murmured, half to himself.

Ben’s thumb dipped just barely inside you, and the moment he felt how tight you were, he froze. His breath hitched, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips as he pulled his hand back. His grip on your thigh tightened, grounding himself as he muttered under his breath, “No fucking way. Not with my fingers. I’m not wasting this on anything but my dick”.

His green eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a dark hunger that sent a shiver racing down your spine. He took a deep breath, his smirk returning as he dragged his hands up the outside of your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress higher as he went.

“You’re something else, Peanut”, he growled, his voice thick and unapologetically filthy. “This body, this tight little hole… it’s all mine”.

He grabbed the hem of your dress, tugging it upward with slow, deliberate movements, giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t. Instead, you lifted your arms instinctively, your breath catching in your throat as you helped him pull the dress over your head. The fabric slipped away easily, pooling on the floor beside the counter, leaving you bare except for your trembling body beneath his gaze.

Ben stepped back slightly, just enough to take you in, his eyes roaming over every inch of your exposed skin with raw, unfiltered desire. He let out a low whistle, his lips curving into a grin that was both predatory and approving.

“You’re even better than I imagined”. His hands moved back to your waist, firm and possessive as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, positioning you exactly where he wanted you.

“You don’t even realize, do you?”, he muttered, his hands trailing over your hips, your stomach, your thighs, like he couldn’t get enough of touching you. “How fucking perfect you are. How fucking lucky I am”.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, “I told you, Peanut. You’re mine now. Every inch of you”.

With one swift motion, Ben pulled the towel from his hips and tossed it carelessly to the side, revealing himself fully. Your eyes widened the moment you saw him—huge, heavy, and impossibly intimidating. A gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you instinctively pressed your hands against his chest, trying to push him away.

But he didn’t budge.

Your heart raced, panic and uncertainty flooding your senses. You weren’t a virgin, but this… this was different. The sheer size of him made your stomach twist with both fear and something else you didn’t want to name.

“Whoa there, Peanut”, Ben murmured, his voice low and teasing, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in his eyes as he glanced down at himself, then back at you. “Scared already? Thought you said you weren’t afraid of me”.

“I just…”, you stammered, your palms pressing harder against his chest, but he didn’t move. He stood there, unyielding, his muscles firm under your touch as he watched you with that same maddening smirk.

“Relax”, he said again, his tone dipping into that familiar mix of amusement and raw lust.

Your voice came out in a shaky whisper, your eyes wide and fixed on him. “This… this won’t fit. No way”.

Ben’s smirk deepened, the gleam in his eyes turning even more smug, like your fear only fed his ego. He let out a low chuckle, his broad chest rumbling under your trembling hands. “Won’t fit, huh?”, he repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. “You really think I’d let that stop me?”.

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling slightly against his chest as you tried to pull back, but his hands on your hips held you firmly in place. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Don’t sell yourself short, Peanut. You’ll take it. You just need a little… encouragement”.

Your stomach twisted at his words, a mix of fear and heat flooding your senses. “Ben, I—”, you started, but he cut you off, his hands sliding slowly up your sides, strong and possessive.

“I’ll make it fit”, he murmured, his voice low and dripping with confidence.

One of his hands moved between your bodies, and your breath hitched as he grabbed himself, his cock heavy and intimidating in his hand. His green eyes flicked up to yours briefly, watching your reaction.

“Just.. relax, Peanut”, he said softly, almost mockingly, as he positioned himself. “This is gonna feel real good. Trust me”.

You bit your lip hard as you felt the tip of him slide through your slick lips, the slow, deliberate motion making your body jolt with unexpected pleasure. The contrast of his roughness and your softness was overwhelming, your hips twitching instinctively as his thick head dragged against you.

“Fuck”, he muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on where your bodies touched. “You’re already soaking for me. You feel that, Peanut? That’s your body telling you it wants this. Wants me”.

A shaky whimper escaped your lips, and you hated yourself for the sound, for how much you wanted him. The warmth, the pressure, the way he moved—it was too much, too intense, too consuming.

Ben chuckled, his thumb brushing over your thigh as he kept guiding himself against you, letting his tip tease your entrance but not pushing in just yet. “Look at you”, he muttered. “Already whining, and I haven’t even given you the real thing yet”.

You bit your lip harder, trying to stifle another whimper. His free hand slid up your side, gripping your waist possessively as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Don’t hold back now, Peanut", he growled. “I want to hear every little sound you make. Wanna know how much you’re feeling this”.

The heat pooling low in your belly was unbearable, your body trembling as he continued his slow, torturous motions. He wasn’t even inside you yet, but the weight of him was enough to leave you breathless.

Ben’s cocky smirk softened just slightly as he began to nudge himself inside you, his movements surprisingly slow and deliberate. He pressed forward an inch at a time, giving you room to adjust to his size. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you steady as he worked himself in, his gaze locked on your face.

“Fuck, Peanut”, he muttered under his breath, the usual arrogance in his tone giving way to something deeper, rougher. “Tight as hell. I knew you’d feel good, but this? Fuck”.

You winced at the stretch, your body instinctively tensing around him as he pushed in further. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped your lips.

“Shh”, he murmured, his voice low and almost soothing as he paused, letting you adjust. “I know, baby. It’s a lot. But you’re doing good. So fucking good”.

Your hands gripped his forearms, your nails digging into his skin as he slid another inch deeper, the burn of the stretch making you gasp. “Ben”, you whispered, your voice trembling, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

“I’ve got you”, he said, his voice steady and firm, his thumbs rubbing small circles against your skin in a rare gesture of comfort. “You’ll get used to it. Just breathe”.

You tried to focus on his words, on the way he moved so slowly, giving you time to adjust to every inch of him. The stretch was still intense, still bordering on too much, but as he eased in further, your body began to relax, the pain giving way to a different kind of pressure.

“That’s it”, he murmured, his lips quirking into a small smirk as he watched you. “See? I told you you’d take it, Peanut”.

You couldn’t form a response, your breath hitching again as he pushed in another inch. He groaned softly, his head falling forward briefly, his self-control evident in the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

Your body trembled, the overwhelming fullness leaving you unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. He stayed still, his hands firm on your hips, his gaze softening just slightly as he gave you a moment to adjust.

“You’re doing so good, Peanut”, he said, his voice low and almost gentle, though the hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded. “Just a little more, and then I’ll make you feel real fucking good. I promise”.

Ben pushed in further, inch by inch, until he finally bottomed out, his hips pressing flush against yours. The sheer fullness, the stretch, was almost too much, and a breathless moan escaped your lips, mixed with a high-pitched whine that you couldn’t suppress. The sound seemed to drive him wild.

“Fuck”, Ben groaned, his head dropping forward to rest against your collarbone as his hands tightened on your hips. His breathing was ragged, and his entire body seemed to tense as he fought to keep himself in check. “You feel… Fuck, Peanut. You’re so fucking tight”.

You trembled under him, your hands instinctively clutching his broad shoulders as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of him filling you completely. He was so big, stretching you to your limits, and every inch of him pressed against places you didn’t even know could feel like this.

“Ben”, you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were pleading for him to move or to give you more time to adjust.

“I know, baby”, he muttered, his voice gravelly and low, muffled against your skin. “I know. Just… fuck, just give me a second”. He groaned again, a deep, primal sound that vibrated through your chest, his hands gripping your waist like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You’re perfect”, he murmured, lifting his head slightly to press his forehead against yours. His green eyes burned into yours, dark with lust and something deeper, something almost reverent. “Fucking perfect. You don’t even know what you’re doing to me”.

You let out a shaky breath, your body slowly relaxing more around him as he stayed still, letting you adjust to the fullness. His hands moved to cradle your thighs, spreading you wider as he groaned softly again, his lips brushing against your jawline.

“Breathe, Peanut”, he said, his voice softening for a moment as his thumbs rubbed gentle circles into your skin. “Just breathe. You’re taking me so damn well”.

The praise sent a rush of warmth through your body, making you shiver against him. Slowly, he began to pull back just an inch, testing, watching your reaction with sharp, hungry eyes. The drag of him against your sensitive walls made your breath hitch, and his smirk returned as he groaned again.

“Yeah”, he growled, his voice thick as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re gonna love this, Peanut. I’ll make sure of it”.

Ben groaned deeply as he began to move, the drag of his length against your tight walls slow and deliberate. He pulled back just enough to make you feel every inch before sinking back in, his hips pressing flush against yours once more. The stretch still made you wince, but the intensity of the sensation was quickly mingling with something warmer, something almost unbearable.

“Shit”, he muttered against your collarbone, his breath hot and ragged. His lips grazed your skin, his teeth scraping lightly as he fought to keep his pace measured. “You’re squeezing me so damn tight. Like you were fucking made for me”.

A breathless whimper escaped you as he thrust again, a little deeper, a little harder. The fullness was still overwhelming, but with every slow, calculated movement, your body started to adjust, to mold to him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, and he smirked against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you clung to him.

Ben’s thrusts grew harder, his hips snapping into yours with more purpose, more force. The sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, raw and intimate, but you bit your lip, desperate to keep quiet.

But Ben noticed. Of course, he noticed.

“Peanut”, he growled, his voice low and commanding, roughened by pleasure. He angled his hips just slightly, hitting a spot that made your back arch involuntarily. “Don’t you fucking hold back on me”.

A soft whimper escaped you, and his smirk returned, wicked and dangerous. “That’s more like it”, he muttered, his hands gripping your hips even tighter as he thrust again, harder this time. “I want to hear you. Every. Fucking. Sound”.

You clenched your teeth, your nails digging harder into his shoulders as you fought to keep quiet, but it was no use. His pace was relentless now, each movement deliberate, dragging pleasure and desperation out of you with every stroke.

“C’mon, baby”, he murmured, leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “Don’t be shy. I want to hear how much you love this. Want to hear you beg me for more”.

You shook your head weakly, trying to resist, but when he thrust again, deeper than before, a moan slipped past your lips, raw and unrestrained. Ben groaned in response, the sound rough and guttural as he rocked into you harder.

“Fuck, that’s it”, he growled, his teeth scraping against your neck as he buried himself to the hilt again. “That’s the sound I’ve been waiting for. Knew you couldn’t stay quiet forever”.

Your breath hitched as he moved faster, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands moved up to grip your waist, holding you steady as he claimed every inch of you, his lips grazing your skin as he spoke again.

“You feel that?”, he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Feel how perfectly you’re taking me? That tight little body of yours was made for this, Peanut. Made for me”.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your soft moans turning into desperate whimpers as he pushed you further and further. His words, his touch, the sheer intensity of him—it was too much, too overwhelming. And Ben—he soaked in every sound, every tremble, every gasp, his grin widening as he kept driving into you like he couldn’t get enough.

“That’s my girl”, he murmured, his hands sliding up to cup your face as his eyes locked onto yours. “Now stop holding back and let me hear it all”.

Ben could feel it—the way your body tightened around him, your walls fluttering as you approached the edge. His pace didn’t falter; if anything, it became sharper, more deliberate, each thrust angled perfectly to drive you closer to unraveling completely.

“You’re close, aren’t you, Peanut?”, he murmured. “I can feel it. You’re squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go”.

You whimpered, your nails raking against his shoulders as the pressure in your core built to an unbearable intensity. Your head fell back, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps, but Ben wasn’t about to let you hide from him.

“Uh-uh”, he said sharply, his hands gripping your hips harder as he slowed his thrusts just enough to regain your attention. “Don’t you fucking look away”.

Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze hazy and unfocused as you tried to meet his. His green eyes burned with intensity, dark with hunger and something possessive that made your stomach twist. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours, his movements deliberate and unyielding as he pushed you closer and closer.

“When you come”, he growled, his voice rough and commanding, “you look at me, Peanut. Got it?”.

You nodded weakly, unable to form words, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge. He thrust harder, deeper, his rhythm relentless now, each motion pulling soft cries from your lips that you couldn’t control.

“That’s it”, he muttered, his gaze locked on yours, unyielding. “That’s my girl. Let me see it. Let me see you fall apart for me”.

The final thrust sent you over the edge, your body clenching tightly around him as your release crashed through you. Your eyes locked onto his, your vision blurring with the intensity of it, and Ben groaned deeply, the sound rough and raw as he watched every second of your undoing.

“Fuck, Peanut”, he muttered, his voice strained as your walls gripped him like a vice. “You’re so fucking perfect like this”.

Your body trembled as the waves of pleasure coursed through you, and even as you came undone beneath him, Ben didn’t stop. His movements slowed just enough to let you ride out your high, his hands firm and steady on your hips as he kept you exactly where he wanted you.

“Fucking beautiful when you come. Told you I’d make you love this”, he murmured, his smirk returning as he leaned in to brush his lips against your ear.

Ben wasn’t close to being done with you—not by a long shot. After a moment of catching his breath, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the couch and sitting down with you straddling his lap. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you as he eased you down onto him again. The stretch made your breath hitch all over again, but your body had already molded to him, making it easier this time.

“You’re not done yet, Peanut”, he murmured, his voice low and smug, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Not until I’ve had my fill”.

You didn’t know how much more you could take, but your body responded on instinct, your arms wrapping around his neck as he thrust up into you, slow and steady. Every motion sent shivers through you, the pressure building again despite how spent you already felt. His hands roamed your body, gripping, caressing, holding you steady as he moved beneath you.

Time blurred. You lost count of how many times he made you come—how many times your body tensed, shook, and fell apart in his arms. Ben took his time, alternating between hard, commanding movements and surprising moments of gentleness, as though savoring every second. His voice was a constant in your ear, filthy and possessive, coaxing every moan, whimper, and gasp out of you like they belonged to him.

By the time you collapsed against his chest, your body spent and trembling, you couldn’t even think straight. Your breaths came in soft, shaky gasps, your cheek resting against his chest. Ben’s hands moved to your back, stroking gently now, his touch grounding as you slowly came down from the overwhelming high.

“Shh”, he murmured, his voice softer now. “You’re done, baby. You’ve earned your rest”.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you securely against him as he leaned back into the couch. The tension in your body eased, and you felt your eyelids grow heavy, the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his body lulling you into a daze.

Surprisingly, Ben didn’t push for more. He simply held you, his rough hands surprisingly gentle as they traced lazy circles on your back. His cocky smirk had softened into something almost content, his head resting against the back of the couch as he watched you drift off.

“Guess I wore you out”, he muttered, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he shifted slightly to make you more comfortable. “Can’t say I blame you, Peanut. You did good”.

You didn’t respond—couldn’t respond—as sleep overtook you. Completely spent, your body went limp against him, your soft breaths warm against his skin as you passed out in his arms. And for once, Ben didn’t press or tease. He just stayed there, holding you close, his gaze lingering on you with something almost resembling pride.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys soldier boy #soldier boy x you #ben x reader #ben x you #ben #the boys fanart #the boys amazon #the boys tv

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cozage · 2 years ago

Note

congratulations on reaching 2k 🫶💕

For the event, I was wondering if you could do option one with reader being hit on right in front of them? With shanks, Sanji, zoro and if possible Nami <3

Hehe I love your writing so much!!

Hii thank you! And thank you for the request :)

Characters: gn reader x Shanks, Sanji, Zoro, Nami Cw: creepy bar guys who can't take a hint Total word count: 730

Take a Hint

Shanks

Shanks’s reaction really depends on the kind of mood he’s in.

Sometimes, you both go into a bar in a competitive mind, trying to see who can get more free drinks throughout the night.

He enjoys watching guys trying to flirt with you. Plus, free booze is free booze. It’s funny how they never seem to ask if you’re there with someone before they buy you a round.

But sometimes it really rubs him the wrong way (especially when he’s in the middle of a conversation with you and someone interrupts him to talk to you).

He usually says some snarky comment like “If you’re going to buy one for my friend here, you should probably buy one for me, considering we’re together.”

He doesn’t ever start a fight, but he will finish them. And he will always take up for you if someone says something rude to you or tries to put their hands on you.

Sanji

People rarely get the chance to try and flirt with you because Sanji is literally all over you 24/7. He wants everyone to know that he belongs to you.

However, there are some brave (and foolish) souls that sometimes try while he’s got his back turned or he steps away from a moment.

The moment he is back, he immediately steps between you and the man who’s trying to shoot his shot. “Is this guy bothering you?” he’ll ask.

He’ll turn back to the guy, his curly brows furrowed in anger. “Unless you want to get your ass kicked, buddy, you might want to move along.”

Afterward the flirter leaves, Sanji will fawn over you, asking if the man hurt you or did anything that made you uncomfortable. He won't relax until he knows for sure you’re okay.

Zoro

Zoro knows you can handle yourself. And besides, it’s amusing to watch.

He lets you handle the situation. Most of the guys take rejections pretty well, but there are a few stubborn ones who insist on buying you a drink even after you’ve turned them down. So you accept a drink.

When you accept, Zoro’s focus on you usually sharpens slightly. He watches carefully for any passes this guy might try to make on you. If you show even an ounce of discomfort, Zoro’s hand is resting on his blade, just in case.

Your eyes meet his, and he’ll mouth “You okay?”. If yes, he’ll leave you be. But if it’s no, he’ll take action.

He’ll position himself between you and the man, taking a nice long drink of the alcohol the guy bought you. Then he’ll plant a kiss firmly on your lips and smirk at you, ignoring the fussing happening from the other man.

“Listen man,” he’ll say, resting his hand on his blade as he turns to him. “I think you need to learn what rejection is. So why don’t you just buzz off, and leave us alone to enjoy this fine alcohol?”

If it leads to a fight, that’s fine. Zoro has never minded fighting for your honor before. And he’s never lost a bar fight.

Nami

Listen, Nami is no stranger to people flirting with her. And neither are you.

Plus, free things are always better. Which is why you two set up a system.

If a guy starts flirting with you and can’t take a hint, well, he’s basically just inviting in some unfortunate circumstances.

So you let him buy you a drink. Maybe two, if you’re feeling crazy. You keep him distracted, telling him stories about your life.

Of course he thinks you need saving by a big strong man or whatever he imagines he is. He has no clue you could knock him out in about 3 seconds flat. But you just smile and listen to his clearly made-up stories.

Meanwhile, Nami is absolutely robbing him blind. It’s actually hilarious to watch. She starts out with his wallet, but she slowly gets more confident as he gets more drunk. She steals his necklace, watch, even his rings. She’s truly amazing at thievery; you can’t help but be in awe at her skill.

At the end of the night, he goes to pay his tab, and you and Nami quietly slip out together hand-in-hand, serenaded by the screams of panic from that dreadful man.

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kikithekiwi19 · 3 months ago

Text

SUGARY SWEET!

Mark Grayson x Stocking Anarchy! Reader

Okay, just imagine Mark with a Stocking! reader makes me foam at the mouth. (Mark is a literal loser who enjoys being degraded by his girlfriend.)

You worked at the GDA as a part-timer since you were kicked out of heaven. They supplied you with ghosts and demons to kill, so you weren't complaining.

Mark heard rumors about your sugar obsession and fiery tongue, which could give anyone whiplash. Your sarcastic attitude was famed around the GDA, and it certainly didn't disappoint.

You guys didn't officially meet until he was called to the scene of a demon attack that turned ugly. He wasn't expecting to see you dancing on a pole made of holy light while you transformed.

His face blossomed to a pretty pink watching the sway of your hips against the pole, the new outfit curling against your body, pronouncing your curves.

A sweet smile tugging your lips as your provocative dance came to a close. Blades drawn and Mark painfully aroused at the display. Like, seriously, maybe there was a reason he hadn't encountered you before.

You fought swiftly, each strike calculated to a fine degree, and you danced across the battlefield with ease. Slaying the demon with one swoop.

Mark barely registered your stark approach to him, mind preoccupied with the blood rushing from his brain down to his crotch.

"Hey Dipshit! I could have used your help if you weren't floating around like a bitch!"

Now that was the famed, iron tongue he's heard so much about. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. The switch-up from fierce seductress, striking down those caught by your charms, to a foul mouth bitch whos insults alone could make a grown man cry.

"Hey! I'm doing my job! Maybe be a little more careful of the civilians around you!"

You scoffed, "That's the job for you bigshots. I guess you wouldn't count since you keep getting your ass blown out by these low lifes."

Yeah, now he understood what everyone meant. Definitely not befitting of an angel.

Safe to say that the rumors were true. But, doesn't mean that he didn't try! Offering to take you out to your favourite dessert place anytime you guys are paired together. Even going as far as walking around with sweets just in case you're in a bad mood and need a little motivation.

The interactions between you two were never a bore. Mark's sure that your witty comebacks will never fail to bring a grin to his face. Even if they are mostly directed towards him.

"Hey cuntface, I needed you out there!"

"Stop flapping your lips, only stupid opinions ever leave them anyway."

"Don't talk to me until I've had my sugar."

Mark found your powers unique! It's not every day you meet a heavenly being.

"So your stockings turn into Katanas"

"Yep."

"All the demons and ghost you kill turn into coins so you can buy your way back into heaven?"

"Yes, Jesus Mark! Your giving me a lobotomy with all these questions."

No matter how worked up you got, he found it oddly endearing. When he actually asked you out, after months of hanging out, he was ecstatic when you said yes.

Dating was much different than your previous friendship. Except for the raked up PDA. You'd cling to his arm, pepper kisses along his face, and spew out less than appropriate things you'd do to him. Might have even performed your pole dance for him on a couple of occasions.

Mark wasn't any better, easily swayed by your charms. AKA you rubbing your cleavage up against him, leaving him as a flustered and horny mess. HE'S SUCH A LOSER

You guys are a literal power couple! Even with your odd quirks, Mark loves you through and through.

#mark grayson x reader #chubby reader #mark grayson #invincible #stocking anarchy

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thriftedtchotchkes · 2 years ago

Text

happiest day

pairing: mike schmidt x reader

summary: when you least expect it, mike surprises you with a confession

warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, hint of angst, smut, unprotected piv, creampie, mentions of rough sex, requited feelings

word count: <1k

Mike tells you he loves you for the first time the way no one ever should. Balls deep, while he's cumming inside you.

It tumbles out, a quiet moan at first, then a louder realization that takes both of you by surprise. His hips slam into your ass once, twice, and then he's filling you up, his admission hanging heavy in the air.

You're almost positive you imagined it until he repeats it again with a little more conviction.

"Fuck. I think I'm in love with you," he pants heavily, his hands intermittently squeezing your waist in time with the heady pulsing of his cock.

There's a beat of silence while you struggle to process his words, torn between the warring sensations of his release leaking down your thighs and shock tugging at your ribcage. He slips out of you as he softens, and once your connection is broken, it hits you like a ton of bricks.

"...What?"

He freezes behind you, and you immediately regret your gut response. That's not what you meant to say at all. Of course, it's not. You're just...confused. You hadn't expected it from him, not when you've only been together for a few months. Part of you wants to wait and see if he takes it back, just in case. But he doesn't.

"If...it's okay, you know. If you don't feel the same, it's okay," he mumbles, folding over you to rest his forehead between your shoulder blades.

His breath is warm and humid against your skin as he peppers soft, lingering kisses down your spine. Strong arms wrap around your waist, clinging to you like this might be his last chance, and suddenly it all feels so real. You've been too quiet for too long and now he's afraid.

You haven't told him yet, but there's no need to be. You just can't figure out how. How can anyone possibly cram the immensity of months of pizza nights on the living room floor watching James and the Giant Peach with Abby, and days off work spent tangled in bed, fucking and fighting and forgiving, into three little words?

You try anyway, but what comes out isn't a response. It's a plea. You don't know what you're asking for—you just know you need him.

"Mike," your voice shakes with it. He holds you tighter, and now there's so little space between you, you can't tell where he ends and you begin.

"You don't have to say it. It's okay, I won't be mad. I just...I need you to say something. Anything," he whispers, his day-old stubble rough and grounding as he speaks.

He nuzzles into you, breathing unevenly—nervously—and you realize he's comforting you. Regardless of what you decide, you're still his first priority.

You find his hand where it rests, splayed across your stomach, and lace your fingers with his. Just say it. Just tell him, say it back. There'll be plenty of time to show him how much you mean it.

Because they're not just words. They're not even a feeling. Love is a promise, and you'll keep it.

Taking a steadying breath, you turn in his arms and pull him down on top of you. It's the first time you've seen his face since he got home and wrestled you onto your hands and knees, all searing touches and deep, frantic thrusts. Since he told you he loves you.

His eyes meet yours, darting from one to the other, desperate for an answer, but yours, instead, follow the freckles across his nose down to the curve of his cupid's bow. There is so, so much to love about Mike Schmidt, and he deserves to know it.

"Of course, I love you," you promise, tilting your chin up so your bottom lip just grazes his top.

His face lights up with an unrestrained smile you see so rarely, the one reserved only for you and Abby on his happiest days. You lean forward to kiss him, softly and open-mouthed, and he inhales sharply, his hands shooting down to your waist.

His grip is a little too tight, and you think maybe he's scared you'll take it back, so you wrap your legs around him to hold him right where he is. Then, the kiss deepens and, when his hands start to roam, you realize what he needs.

Mike has always found solace in you, inside you, whenever he's struggling to express or accept what he's feeling, and right now he's asking for reassurance. Hooking your heels behind his back, you tug his hips into yours, and he groans into your mouth as he slips through his release still dripping from your heat.

He's already hard as a rock and bucking into you as if he didn't fuck you into his mattress less than an hour ago, except this time you can see him. The tension between his brows and in his shoulders visibly loosens, and he exhales a sigh of relief the moment he's buried to the hilt.

Enveloped by your warmth and security, it falls from his lips again, over and over—an increasingly sure declaration as he continuously fills you up and hollows you out.

You repeat it back, and it feels good. It feels so good to love Mike Schmidt.

thanks for reading!

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #fnaf imagine #fnaf smut #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #more hidden lore references YEP

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revelboo · 5 months ago

Note

A few things of note:

I am so glad I started following you early on. Trying to catch up on your multitudinous masterpieces separately while they're all intertwined and you making multiple updates DAILY would be a nightmare to parse out.

I don't think anyone or anything has gotten me to so regularly leave comments--lengthy or otherwise--in the tags before, not has anyone ever inspired me to send in as many asks as I've sent you.

Girl what fucking time zone are you posting from? Because your first update of the day usually comes in at 5-6 in the damn morning here and I refuse to believe you are bored at work before the ass crack of dawn.

Have a nice day, I love literally everything you've written here.

Yeah, I feel a bit for folks following me later on and trying to catch up since fics will cross reference each other or events. I love reading the stuff you and everyone else leave in the comments and tags! I’m in the Central Standard time zone. And I try to get at least one posted before work in case it’s busy and I can’t type at work 😅 18+ 🌶️

Hum Along

First Aid x Reader

• This was supposed to be his first real station as a medic, a way to prove himself. To help. Delphi. After the first week, the first day, the excitement had tarnished. Because this is a punishment. No matter how fast they work, how good he, Pharma, and Ambulon are, the incoming wounded just keep dying. Too far gone already when they reach Delphi. Doesn’t even know where he’s going as he wanders the halls, servos shaking and stained with energon and audials still ringing from the screaming. Ambulon had said it gets easier, but he’s not sure that he wants it to. Shouldn’t it feel like a blade driving into his spark chamber every time he loses a patient? Shouldn’t it hurt?

• Not sure if you’re screaming or if it’s just in your head, you stagger and fall against a wall. It feels like needles sinking into you, pulling and biting deeper. Like being torn apart and you double over, retching. And when your head lifts, you try to figure out where you are. Hadn’t you been in your office sitting at your desk? Not anymore. Everything is huge as you look around at the endless stretch of hallway and fear rises up through the fog of pain. Is that your heart racing or the heavy sound of footsteps? Are you not alone?

• Coming around the corner, he freezes hearing a sharp little screech. What is that thing? The tiny, frail organic stands on shaky legs and retreats a step. It’s so ugly, it’s almost cute. A tiny biped with an uncannily Cybertronian face and you definitely don’t belong here. How had you gotten onto the station? “Hey, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you, I’m a medic.” Easing closer, you crane your neck to stare up at him and those eyes seem intelligent as you size him up. Before screeching and running.

• You hear the monstrous robot snarl something at you as you run for your life. Have no idea what’s going on, but death by giant robot is a definite nope. And that grating, snarling sound it had made? Pure nightmare fuel. It’s not like you’re a track star though, and you can hear the monster closing in. Screaming at the top of your lungs when a huge hand closes around you and your feet leave the ground. Aware that you’re babbling terrified nonsense at it, pleading it doesn’t eat or squish you.

• Adjusting his grip when he realizes how soft you are in his hand, you stare up at him with wide eyes and chirp frantically, tiny hands pushing at his servos. Little cries quieting when he touches your soft head and tips your chin up with a servo. Still has no idea what you are or where you came from, but realizes that you need him. That you’re not too far gone to help. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’re safe now.” And he desperately needs this. Someone needing him that he can actually save. “It’s going to be okay.” Let it be okay, because he really needs a win.

#transformers x reader #tf first aid #first aid x reader

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arrrion · 3 months ago

Text

Stranger Nearby

Stanley Snyder x GN reader

Synopsis: The American Colony's site has gotten bigger and corn fields grew. But they were only few people and lately someone was roaming around. It was Stanley's mission to find them.

Disclaimers: Mention of killing somebody (he wont though, didn't even thought about it)

I love this man, help me...

There might be mistakes, I'm too tired to correct myself...

Enjoy!

It's been three week already since the first time they saw footprints of a stranger around the forest of there base. At first Xeno wasn't even bothered by that. Yeah someone was here in the forest and? If it was one of the statue he gave a panel then they would've already come to him. Which means they don't know if they can come. He'll just wait for them to be in danger and run to them and he will gladly oblige them in his group of slav-

But then a month passed and no signs of them coming? Were the animal in that forest your friends? Were you Snow White? Or are you that strong to defend yourself without his elegant science? Like, for real? Were you also a scientist and survived with it? Were you a warrior? A soldier? Whatever profession that gives you the power to defeat danger ? Now he was really curious. Days after days he would think of the possibility that you could be really usefull to him. Man is really eager to have you, like, calm down?

Anyway, It's still early on the American colony history so, he doesn't trust the reliability of others except Stanley. His best man ever could never disappoint him. If Stan says he can, then he can.

Here he is, in a manhunt. First, he pinpointed all the marks you left before going for you first. By knowing how you kind of work he could corner you better. Thus, he searched everywhere around their base. He find out that you don't stay at the same spot more than two days, you left firecamps here and there. By how little they are for a month in the wild, either you camped several times in the same place and you alternated, or you spend some nights without a fire. In all cases, you know how to light a fire, you probably knows the basics of surviving in the woods.

He also saw some marks on different trees. You probably tried to climb but failed. Now he knows you have a weapon, the marks on trees were made with a blade. So you know how to light a fire and how to make a dagger?

So to sum up everything, you don't stay in the same place for too long which means you probably know that his group is nearby. You might get scared when he catch you then.

You could be a pain in the ass for him actually. If you manage to survive this long without help it means you'll try to defend yourself, and he knows well that someone that knows they are close to death (even though he doesn't want to kill you, nor hurt you) is the most difficult thing to fight.

He kept that in mind and actually started to go after you.

And he found you pretty easily?

I mean it's been more than a month and nobody from the castle you saw came attacking you ? You knew better to be careful but at some point your defense was to be downed. But you were really aware of what was around you. Like really. It's not like you had good earing like Ukyo, rather you had a sixth sense or something. You immediately felt Stanley.

And he didn't even tried to hide himself. Man has the biggest confidence. He knows very well that whatever you sort out, he will catch you. There's nothing you can do about it. Therefore, when he saw you quickly pack you belongings (that actually was like 2-3 things?) he wasn't a little bit worried. You ran for your life, the person behind you had hidden his face, it could only mean you were in danger ? And you couldn't be more closer to the truth. If this man catches you, your done for. You will live the hell of being under Xeno's orders you know?

You weren't really accustomed with fleeing, he could tell. Your race was not at all suited to last long, against him in addition. But you were enduring like crazy. He several times was close to catch you but somehow you manage to dodge everytime. He knew you were conducting him somewhere, you had a plan for this moment. He knew he had to catch you or it would be annoying to deal with whatever you thought could save you from him.

But, luckily for you, you manage to arrive at a cliff and you stopped right at the edge. Stanley wasn't dumb. He knew you weren't cornered. No, he was your prey for now. And maybe you and him had overrated your capabilities. Because the trap you had prepared had closed on you. The ground under your feet disappeared ans you were falling down.

Stanley reacted as fast as light and soon you find yourself in his arms. That's when you understood he wasn't there to get rid of you. It clicked, it all made sense now. Since the beginning he didn't do anything but following you. He had a gun but didn't use it. He only had to shoot you, even if you had sensed him, you can't dodge a bullet. Now you felt so guilty.

As you both fell from that cliff, Stanley placed you on him. But you wouldn't actually kill a man so this was not a deadly fall. The cliff wasn't that high but it really hurt Stanley.

It was actually enough to knock him out, for a little while at least.

When his eyes oppened again, the first thing he saw was the night sky. It was already sunset when he was after you earlier, he was out for a couple of hours. He looked around him and saw you, sleeping next to him. You were actually nuzzled against him. Well, that was a turn of event-

He stayed like this a little while. You really were peacefully sleeping against him like he didn't tried to kidnap you. He looked on his other side and saw his helmet thing. All his stuff was actually neatly put away. Like he could actually grab his riffle? And you were taking his arm for a pillow? Man sleeping really help...

He looked again at your figure. Xeno wouldn't mind if he bring you tomorrow, right? Right?

I swear it was more epic in my head! It's actually way more shorter than I thought but I hope you liked it.

This man gives me crazy ideas I can't help but want to write more??

Well then, see you soon-

#dr stone x reader #stanley snyder x reader #gn reader #dr stone #stanley snyder

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jwanniie · 1 year ago

Note

Can u do gp assassin minji x reader where minji was tasked to take down an important person but as she was observing he

Pairings: G!p Assasin Minji x f!reader!

Warnings: dub-con, somno,slight non-con at first, Assasin minji, knife play, degrading, pet names, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your Willy), slight breeding at the end, cervix fucking, mention of pregnancy, kinda kidnapping at the end, not proofread, just filthy smut!!

Word count: 1,6k

Jwans note: huh😮‍💨 after a month of not posting, it was difficult to actually start writing and I felt ashy and dry.🫣 but my long ass summer break started, so I will be posting more (yayy), I’m going to a trip with my friends in few days so YIPPEEEEE😍😍I’m so excited (uwu)👁️👅👁️

—————————————————————————

Minji was good at her job, or that’s what she could say, extremely good. Don’t you get fooled by the sweet plump lips, gorgeous smile that made everyone forget about their worries or the eyes that stared at you so delicately. To say that at first when you meet her you’d think she’d work on those cat cafes, kindergarten teacher or a major that inquired art would be an understatement.

The plot twist is that the most innocent and dreamy looking people turn into the most twisted and full of secrets individuals. The ones that you’d look at and think ‘no way they would do that?!’. But like the famous George Eliot said “don’t judge a book by its cover.” applied in most situations.

Minji worked as a professional assasin, she took 47 people down without an ounce of effort, the police tried to investigate those cases, but the outcome would always be a hair gripping disappointment. Nonetheless the only hope the police always had was the small ‘Mj’ that was slowly tatted into the victim’s skin with probably a dagger or an extremely sharp blade. They tried to see possible nail scratches, DNA, fingerprints, they even tried to look at the security cameras but there was no sign of anyone entering or leaving, it was like she appeared out of nowhere and disappeared into thin air.

Minji did not like the idea of being under someone's authority or taking orders from anyone. She preferred to work for herself and to be her own boss. However, on occasions, she would consider offers that came with a filthy payment. And that’s what happened with you.

There was this guy who came to Minji and told her he will give her a horrible amount of money if she can take you down. From what she heard from that guy is that you were some really famous and wealthy man’s daughter, and an only child. Your father had a company and by that company he hid his illegal business like money laundering, drug producing, tax evasion and bribery. And to what she also heard is that your dad had stolen money and refuses to give it back to the guy who came to her and that’s why he wanted to get a revenge from your father.

Minji has figured out your schedule with her ways and planned a day when you'll be very busy and tired, so you'll go straight to bed. This will make Minji's job much easier.

Minji wore baggy jeans and a long sleeved black shirt to avoid any suspicion. She let her hair loose to make her features appear more unrecognizable and she had black mask in her black tote bag to wear once she’s in your apartment and in case you’ll wake up.

She tip toed to your apartment building. The building was very minimalistic compared to what she heard who your dad was and how filthy rich you are. She expected a whole apartment building just for you to live in. But it turned out that you lived in an apartment which had families, students and office workers, like any apartment.

She pressed the elevator button and soon she stepped inside. She looked for number ‘12’ and soon she found it. The elevator was pretty fast and it wasn’t long till she was in her desired floor.-Her eyes traveled to all of the doors, in search for the apartment ‘47’. She later stood in front of the door, the lock getting destroyed by her and the door opening. A dark hall getting exposed to her eyes. She timidly and slowly walks in, taking in every little detail.

The hall was soon done and she was met with a closed door by her right, this was where your room could be since all of the other doors of the apartment were open and this was the only door closed.

She quietly opened the door being met with a laying figure, blanket draped over your thighs and lower abdomen while your upper body was exposed to cold air. The moon shining through the window making a dainty and delicate silhouette appear on the wall.

You were in a deep void, so out of this world, too deep in sleep to wake up anytime soon. Your breathing was soft and almost soundless while your chest was inhaling and exhaling slowly.

She was so fascinated by the sight she almost forgot her mission, she felt a rush of blood down her member, her pants feeling way too tight for her liking. She was ripped back to reality when you changed your position, now laying on your back.

She walked closer to your bed, admiring you now from so close. Taking in the little details, she couldn’t adore from far there. She noticed how the cold air made your nipples poke from your silky black night gown. The way the blanket was so down that your thighs were bare till the knees.

Since she already came all the way here, why can’t she have you at least once or maybe twice and then murder you? It would be fast and beside who can stop her, you are asleep and even if you did wake up. Would you fight her back? You can’t. She can just end you with a second. You were basically under her mercy.

She placed her bag on the nightstand before hovering over you. Her legs straddling your thighs. She slid down her slacks before tossing them across the bedroom. You had easy clothing, fast to remove or even rip. She took the hem of the night gown and lifted it till your breasts. She groaned at the sight, you had no panties on, just so easy and beautiful to use. Your perky mounds were soft and so plushy begging to be sucked and worshipped. While the hips to waist ratio was absolutely perfect.

Fuck, she had to kill such a precious and beautiful doll.

Her length was at this point so upwards, the tip angry red while spilling creamy white substance and her balls heavy and almost purple-ish.-Without any prepping or anything she slammed herself in, immediately groaning at the suck of your cunt. Your walls hugging her so tightly, almost too hard to move.

Her both hands went to your breasts, cupping them, while the pad of her thumb started toying with your nipples. Twisting and squeezing the hardened bud.

Your cunt got wetter with every thrust of her hips which made her pace pick up even more, her tip kissing your cervix with every single thrust.

The uncomfortable feeling in your lower region made your eyes flutter open, slightly contemplating is this a dream or the reality. But with every passing second the feeling got even more real and you were getting conscious back again.

When you were fully aware. You were going to let out a bloody scream but before you could even open your mouth, her hand found it way above your mouth. She didn’t stop her hips movements instead, getting even more faster.

Her other hand went to the nightstand, she was rummaging through her back and you were trying to see what she was trying to find. Your curiosity was soon replaced with fear when you saw what she was looking for.

She was looking for one of those kitchen knives in every typical horror movies.-There was soon a sinister evil smile across her face. Her dark eyes looked at your fear full ones.

“I’m not stopping doll, so you better also enjoy this, don’t cause me trouble and if you do..you know your faith.” She said while the tip of the knife was running across your skin. Hard enough to make a small scratch, but not hard enough to let out blood.

Her movements were in halt but soon she started again. She was ramming your insides, you hated to admit that it felt good, way too good.

She was pounding you like there was no tomorrow, well it kinda is true. Her hands let go from your mouth and you wish she didn’t. Now she has to hear the sounds you let for her. Then she thinks you are enjoying this.

With another hit of her tip on your cervix, you let out a loud moan, a pressure on your lower abdomen lingering there.

She chuckled darkly at the sound her tip taking the knife in her grasp.

“Turned out you were enjoying this, huh? Such a pretty little slut!” The sharp blade was running across your inner thighs the fear turning into pleasure. She slightly made the blade sink into your skin, a small bloody cut was now on your inner thighs.

The pain turned you even more on. The pain making your walls clasp around her uncontrollably. Nonetheless she continued her ramming, her tip was completely out before slamming with full force in. The cycle continued.

With the last womb fucking of her cock you reached your climax. Pleasure running through your body while squirming now underneath her.

Your pussy was squeezing her cock after your release and that made her reach her own high, she fucked you faster and with more passion now that she was close.

Without warning her essence painted your walls white, splashing right into your womb. She fucked harder through her high, you were whining and moving under her, the overwhelming feeling of overstimulation hitting you harder than ever. Her cum was now deeper, leaving you with a risk of pregnancy.

“Maybe I should keep you and just tell them I killed you? You would be my personal fuck doll!” She said before wrapping a tape right on top of your mouth, not even waiting to hear your answer.

#kim minji smut #kim minji x female reader #kim minji x reader smut #kim minji x fem reader #kim minji x reader #minji new jeans #new jeans minji smut #minji smut #new jeans minji x reader #minji x reader smut #minji x reader #minji x fem reader #new jeans x fem reader #new jeans x reader #kim minji #new jeans smut

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ipseitydelrey · 2 years ago

Text

all zipped up ☆ s. reid

ship virgin!sub!spencer reid x dom!fem!reader

warnings shameless smut, loss of virginity, handjob/oral (m receiving), p in v penetration, consent! (cuz it’s sexy!!), slight dacryphilia? idk, spence needs guidance lol, you also let him play w/ ur boobs hehe, pet names (honey & babe), riding

word count 3.0k (went a lil overboard oops)

summary a few months into your and spencer’s relationship, you’re both invited to one of rossi’s dinner parties. the dress you decided to wear was simple, but you needed help getting the zipper all the way up…luckily your boyfriend is there to help.

You and Spencer had only been officially dating for six months when you had gotten an invitation to one of Rossi’s dinner parties.

According to your boyfriend, the older agent would typically host one every couple of months and always after a really good end to a BAU case. Of course, loved ones can be brought along as plus ones, but Spencer would always go alone.

Since you had both declared your relationship official, there hasn’t been a dinner in a couple of months, until the one day Spencer came home and asked if you wanted to go with him. That day is today.

You only have a couple of hours to get ready, and there is this lovely dress you’re planning on wearing. Brand new; you haven’t even worn it yet. Your boyfriend opted to change in the bathroom so while he’s in there, you unzip your new black dress.

As you slip into the dress, you see in the mirror — that is mostly just for decoration — that the tight material accentuates your curves. You run your hands over your sides and hips, smoothing out the fabric, and you reach for the zipper. You pull it up about halfway until you’re unable to reach and zip it up completely.

“Oh, come on,” you silently groan, at which point you hear the bathroom door open. You look over your shoulder. “Hey, Spence?”

Around the corner, he pops into the room while fixing his tie. “Yeah, honey?” he responds, still looking down as he tightens the knot.

You turn your back towards him and you bring your hands up to bring the zipper edges together. “Could you?” you ask.

At your request, he finally looks up. You can feel him staring at your back as it’s been a few seconds since you asked. Well, you can’t really blame him; you’re not even wearing a bra.

You look back at him, “Spence?”

He snaps out of his trance. “Right, sorry,” he stammers as his cheeks flush pink. He approaches you from behind and timidly, yet gently, places his hand between your exposed shoulder blades while his other hand trails down to the zipper. His fingers dip slightly in between the zipper tracks and his touch grazes your spine; you aren’t entirely sure whether that was intentional or not, but you aren’t complaining. No, not at all.

He grabs a hold on the zipper between his fingers and slowly starts to pull upward. You feel the dress hug your figure, as well as seeing in the mirror how the dress is quite tight on you. The bottom of it rides up on your thighs slightly so you drop your hands to tug it down. In the mirror, you can see how Spencer’s gaze trails down to where your hands are situated. The sound of the zipper moving ceases, but his hands remain on your back.

“Anything else?”

“Actually, yeah.” You lean forward towards the dresser — not intentionally showing off your ass right in front of your boyfriend. The necklace you had picked out is adorned with small pearls, complimenting your skin tone and your black dress perfectly.

When you stand up straight, you hand the necklace to Spencer over your shoulder. You look at him in the mirror, “Please?”

He takes the necklace and runs his thumb along the pearls. The rocks are slightly cold when he places it along your exposed collarbone. While doing so, he lightly drags his fingers across your flesh, and you start to think he might have ulterior motives. Then again, a couple weeks earlier he had confessed that he was a virgin…so is he trying to give it up to you tonight?

He clasps the necklace together and brings his hands to grasp your shoulders, rubbing them softly. You look at yourself, how the pearls sit perfectly against your collarbone and subtly brings attention to your breasts. You are definitely aware of the second part of that claim because after he puts his chin on top of your head, Spencer isn’t exactly subtle about him staring at your chest. Surely he must be aware of where he is looking…

“Spence?” you call, but to no response. You try again. “Babe?”

“Hm?” That pet name seems to get his attention.

You bring a hand up to fidget with the pearl necklace. “Is something wrong?” you ask. Of course, you know nothing’s wrong but you know a bit about the effect you have on him, especially in this state.

At your question, he lifts his chin up and he stops rubbing your shoulders. “No!” he says, a little too loud. He clears his throat awkwardly. “No, no, sorry. Nothing’s wrong.”

“So,” you start as you bring your hand down to smooth out any wild wrinkles in the fabric, “is this dress okay? Do I look good?”

He digs his fingers into the soft skin of your biceps; not too harshly, however. “You look beautiful,” he says softly, then his voice drops down to a timid whisper. “You always do.”

Still not getting the message, you think to yourself. So, you decide to take initiative by taking his hands from their place on your arms and moving them down to hold your waist. You try to suppress a small smirk as you ask, “Is it tight enough?”

The question makes his eyes grow wide as his trail of thought derails to something else that could be tight; you yourself aren’t too sure if you were talking about the dress or your growing heat. But hey, if a misunderstanding gets him going, you aren’t complaining.

The placement of his hands on your waist also gives you the opportunity to push your back to his chest and your ass to his crotch, which you gladly take after feeling his erection pushing up against your backside. You hear him whine next to your ear at the friction making his pants tighter.

“Wait…wait, please.” He pulls away a little, leaving you a little cold.

You turn around but his hands remain frozen on your waist. “You don’t want to?”

“No, I do, I do. It’s just, ah…”

Your mouth moves faster than your brain. “Do you want me to guide you?” You move your hands on top of his, gently caressing the back of one of his hands with your thumb.

His breaths are shaky, but after a few seconds he nods.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“Please,” he begs, squeezing your waist softly in need. “Tell me what to do.”

His consent brings a smile to your face and you bring your hands up to his neck. Then your lips collide with his, at first soft and loving, but then grows hungrier. His lips gape open to moan, allowing your tongue to enter in a heated kiss. You gently push him towards the nearby bed and he falls to a seated position on the mattress.

When you break the kiss, he looks up at you with his red lips and unkempt hair. You place one leg on each side of him, straddling his hips, but your attention goes to his neck for the time being.

“First,” you state, as your hand pulls on his tie a bit, “is it okay if I take this off?”

Instead of letting you do the honors, he eagerly unties it. While his hands are preoccupied with that, yours starts to unbutton his dress shirt. The tie hangs loose around Spencer’s neck when he goes to help you unbutton by starting at the bottom. He lets you unfasten the last button and slide the shirt off of his torso.

“Help me unzip?” Ironic how you’re already getting out of your dress mere minutes after slipping into it. But he’s fast to undo the zipper and let the top part of the dress fall, revealing your breasts to him.

His hands remain on your back, unsure of where you want him to touch, and he simply stares. Not out of judgment, as you can tell by the way his dick twitches in his pants, but out of the need to memorize every blemish on your soft and plush skin.

“Go ahead,” you say as you push your chest out a little. “Feel them.”

A wandering hand belonging to him cautiously makes its way from the small of your back to the side of your tit. Nervously, he outlines the curves with his fingers before eventually grasping ahold a little harshly; it’s obvious that the poor man hasn’t even fondled a woman’s boobs before this.

“Too tight. Let go a little,” you advise softly.

“Got it. Sorry.” He softens his hold on your chest and starts to squeeze your breast gently.

With your other boob feeling neglected, you suggest, “While you’re doing that, you can use your other hand, or maybe your mouth.”

He seems a little taken aback by the suggestion of using his mouth, but he continues to fondle your tit, even running his finger over your hardened nipple. “How so?”

“Oh, with your tongue. Maybe even teeth.”

His brow furrows in confusion. “Wouldn’t that be painful?”

You laugh a bit at his cute concern. “Well you don’t have to bite, you can just nibble.”

Continuing to play with your breast, his head leans forward against your other tit. He runs his tongue lightly across your nipple, which rips out a velvet moan from your throat. Now that he knows what to do for you to make those sounds, he works on your breasts, using his fingers to lightly pinch one nipple and swirling his tongue around the other. The stimulation makes you grind your thinly clothed cunt against the tent in his pants, making him shudder and whine against your breast.

Your hand snakes to the back of his head and you grab onto his curly hair, which elicits a moan from him. After a few more seconds, you pull his head back and make him look at you with his drool dribbling down his chin and his lips all red.

“Why did you pull back?”

The way he asked was keen, like he wanted to have his tongue run across your flesh again. And while you would also enjoy that, you don’t have a lot of time.

You get off of his lap, letting the undone dress and your panties pool around your ankles and you step out of it. You get on your knees in front of Spencer and you start to unbuckle his belt. “I wanna make you feel good.”

His hips slide closer to you. “Are you sure?” he asks innocently.

You take off his belt and he lifts his hips, allowing you to slide his pants down. You look up at him, “Is this okay?”

He nods his head feverishly. “Yes. Definitely,” he says with a meek smile. His pants completely slip off, leaving him in his boxers. You palm him and his hips uncontrollably buck up to meet your touch.

“Is this all because of the dress?” you question, referring to his hard-on, and you smile smugly. Your hand goes past the waistband of his boxers and you wrap it around his dick.

He mewls at your touch and you start to stroke him. “Y-You looked so good in it,” he sputters out, bucking his hips up to fuck your fist. “Please, I couldn’t help it!”

His little whimpers and pleas as you massage his member sends jolts of excitement straight to your already throbbing clit. Your other hand goes to pull down his boxers and free his cock, letting the precum seep out and lubricate the handjob you’re giving him better. You massage a finger over the tip and he moans at the sensation.

“More, more,” he pleads breathlessly, his head thrown back while his hand makes its way to your head and he grabs a fistful of hair.

Understanding what he means, you bend your head down and kiss the tip teasingly. Spencer groans when you start to wrap your lips around his cock, taking him in slowly. He’s big in your mouth, so you use your hand to take in what your mouth can’t.

He tries not to jerk his hips up and fuck your mouth but as you continue to suck him off, it’s getting harder to control his movements. When he looks down at you, you look up at him — eyes glossy and tears filling the brims, drool running down your chin and his cock, your cheeks puffed out — and he feels a heat coiling in his stomach.

“T’much, s’too much- I’m gonna-” and with no warning, he bucks into your mouth and hot splurts of cum hit the back of your throat. You’re not complaining, as you try to swallow as much as you can, even though a bit dribbles out of your mouth and runs down his softening dick.

Your lips leave him with a ‘pop.’ A bit of his cum remains on your chin so taking the opportunity to tease him, you swipe it with your index and lick it off. The sight of you enjoying the taste of him already makes his dick semi-hard again.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly, “I’m sorry; it felt so good and I didn’t—”

You get off your knees and shut him up with a kiss. He can taste himself on your tongue and while normally he would be slightly grossed out, in the moment he finds it arousing. After a moment, he pulls away from the kiss. “Can…can I return the favor? Please?”

The adorable way he asks makes you smile sweetly, and you place your hands on his chest. “As much as I would love that,” you say while you push him slightly, “I just want you inside me. Is that okay, Spence?”

He slides backwards to allow you to have more room when you straddle his hips again, this time with no fabrics between the two of you. One of your hands holds onto his shoulder while the other goes down to hold his cock and line it up with your wet pussy. As a precaution, you state, “Just tell me if you don’t want this, okay?”

His hands go to grasp your waist. “I want it, I want it so much, please…”

With his approval, you start to sink down on his cock. Although you’re experienced with plenty of other guys, you’ve never had a dick this big inside you before. You can feel it split you open, and while it’s a bit uncomfortable, it’s overtaken by the pleasure it brings you. Spencer whimpers with every inch you’re taking and every couple inches, you stop to let yourself get used to his girth and size. Thankfully, he isn’t one of those guys who pushes you down even though it hurts, because his hands remain on your waist, gripping it tightly.

Eventually, he bottoms out and you sit against him with his cock in you for a minute or two. One of his hands presses your belly to feel where he is inside you and that action is what makes you start to lift your hips up. You start off at a slow pace, mostly for Spencer’s sake since he’s already moaning like a porn star, making your walls clench around him.

“S-So good,” he groans, and he begins to help you ride him by moving his hands to cup your ass and lifting you up and down, still maintaining your slow speed. “Y’feel so good around me.”

You let him dictate the pace. “Are you okay with going faster?” you ask. You weren’t expecting him to immediately quicken the pace, but it’s a pleasant surprise since it’s apparent how much pleasure it’s bringing him. His jaw is slack, not even attempting to block his wanton moans, and his eyes are half-lidded so prettily.

He looks down to see how you’re connecting, his cock sliding in and out of you with apparent ease. The way your cunt takes him so well makes him feel another low coil in his stomach, signifying another orgasm close to erupting.

“Where…where do I…” he tries to ask, but his question keeps getting interrupted by his moans.

“In me. In me, fuck, you can cum in me,” you groan, letting your head hang back slack while your pleasure envelops you.

He quickens the pace again, the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs and your moans echoing through the room. The coil snaps and he cries out your name. His cum paints your walls while his eyes roll up from the overwhelming pleasure.

The pace slows and you start to take control of it again. “Please, Spence, I’m so close,” you say. “Hold out f’me, okay?”

He nods lazily and he wraps an arm around your waist. His hand goes down to where you two meet and he finds your clit with ease, rubbing it hard with the soft pad of his thumb.

The extra stimulation is just what you need because soon enough, your orgasm rushes through you like a waterfall. The orgasm lasts a while and eventually you start to come down. You rest on his lap, cockwarming him while you kiss his neck wearily.

“Was…was it okay?” you ask when you pull back.

Even Spencer knows how absurd that question is, how you’re focusing on whether you performed well and not on your own pleasure. “It was amazing.” He kisses you, soft and tenderly. “You’re amazing,” he whispers in between kisses.

When you next take a breather, you glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand, showing an analog ‘7:52 PM.’

“Y’know,” you start, brushing the hair out of his eyes with your fingers, “if we leave now, we would only be fifteen minutes late.”

“It’s that late?” He looks back at the clock to double-check.

You get off of him, his cock slipping out of you with a groan. “What are we going to say if they ask why we’re late?”

He stands up and pulls his boxers up. “We’ll say you were helping me with something,” he says with a smile.

hope y’all enjoyed !! <3

#★ sei’s fanfics #★ spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #fanfic #spencer reid fandom #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #mdni

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multific · 5 months ago

Text

Held by Fate

Eric Draven x Reader

Summary: You thought you met him by chance, but it was all fate.

The streets were quiet as you walked home that evening, the soft glow of the streetlights didn't help much in the dark.

You had stayed late at work, finishing up a project, and now the city had taken on an eerie darkness. The air was cold making you shiver and urging you to quicken your pace.

You didn’t mind walking alone at night, it was something you had done countless times before. But tonight, something felt different, something was definitely off and you couldn't point it out just yet.

As you turned the corner onto another street, your heart rate spiked.

Three men emerged from the shadows, blocking your path. Their eyes were filled with ill intentions, and a cruel smirk played on the lips of the one in the middle.

You audibly gulped.

“Hello there, Sweetheart. What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?” one of them said as he took a step closer.

You clutched your bag tightly, your mind racing for a way out. “I… I’m just heading home. Please, let me pass.” Probably not the best idea to mention your home in case they follow you. But you were in full panic mode.

The men laughed, which was probably not a good sign. They moved in, surrounding you, and you could feel your breath quickening.

You tried to think of a way out but your mind was blank.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” another one said, his voice dripping with menace.

Before you could react, a voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Leave her alone.”

You turned toward the source of the voice, your heart pounding in your ears.

Standing a few feet away was a man in a worn leather jacket, his hands clenched into fists. It took you a moment to recognize him. Eric.

He was the man you had helped at the grocery store just a few days ago.

The leader of the group sneered. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Eric stepped forward, his expression cold and unwavering. “I said, leave her alone.”

Something about the way he said it, the determination in his voice, made the men hesitate. For a moment, it seemed like they were weighing their options.

Then, with a grunt of frustration, the leader waved his hand dismissively.

“Whatever, man. Let’s go. The bitch is not worth it.”

The three men backed off, disappearing into the shadows where they came from. You let out a shaky breath, the tension draining from your body.

Eric approached you, his gaze softening as he saw the fear in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, though your legs felt like jelly. “Yes, thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

Eric offered a faint smile.

“I’m just glad I got here in time.” He glanced around, making sure the men were truly gone before turning back to you. “Let me walk you home. It’s not safe out here.”

You hesitated for a moment but then nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

As the two of you began walking, the initial shock wore off, and you found yourself stealing glances at him.

He seemed different from the first time you met, he looked a lot more confident.

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” you said after a moment.

“Yeah, neither did I. Funny how life works, huh?” he chuckled.

“How have you been?” you asked cautiously, remembering the brief conversation you’d had with him at the store.

You met him when he was in front of you at the store, he was a little short on change and the cashier was riding his ass about it. You stepped in and paid for him. After, he was thankful and he had a short conversation with you. This is when he mentioned something about getting back on his feet.

This was a couple months ago.

He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s been… tough. I just got out of rehab a couple of weeks ago. Trying to stay clean, stay sober. It’s a day-by-day thing.”

“That sounds really hard. But it’s good that you’re trying.” something about his honesty touched you.

Eric glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

“Most people don’t say that. They either avoid me or look at me like I’m a lost cause.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re a lost cause. You saved me tonight. That counts for something.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Thanks. That means more than you know.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights casting a soft glow on the wet pavement. Eventually, you reached your apartment building. You turned to face Eric, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and curiosity.

“This is me,” you said, gesturing toward the entrance.

Eric nodded, lingering a moment longer. “I’m glad you’re okay. If you ever need anything… well, I’m around.”

You hesitated, then reached into your bag and pulled out a small notepad. Scribbling your number on a piece of paper, you handed it to him.

“In case you ever need someone to talk to.”

Eric stared at the paper for a moment before taking it, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Thanks. I… I really appreciate that.”

“Goodnight, Eric.”

“Goodnight.”

As you watched him walk away, you couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t the last time your paths would cross. There was something about him—a quiet strength, a hint of sadness, and an undeniable kindness—that stayed with you long after you closed the door behind you.

Little did you know, that night was just the beginning.

A/N: Part 2 is currently in progress.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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h3arts4harry · 7 months ago

Text

- favourite girl -

warnings: ANGST(resolved), sls, TW, self harm, anorexia, hospitals, sewerslide attempt -lmk if i forgot anything

y/n is 17 and has really bad mental health issues, she started struggling with self harm and eventually disordered eating at 14 years old. it only got worse when her safety net, her brothers, left to move to LA.

-y/n pov-1:53am-

"just one more" i whisper, swiftly moving the blade across my wrist for the 6th time. "fuck.." i mumble as i stand off the floor. i look at myself in the mirror, staring at the girl infront of me. i cant help but feel sick with hate from what i see. my cheeks are swollen and red from crying, mascara smudged down them from the countless tears that have fallen. my eyes all ugly and puffy. i look down away from my face, down to my body. my monstrous body. how could i look so horrible all the time? how is it possible for someone to be so fucking hideous? my hand moves slowly over my stomach, i hate this. i hate what i see. i hate how i feel. i hate all of this. why do i have to feel like this? i divert my eyes away from one horror to another, the blood from the cuts, a beautiful crimson, dripping down my arm, creating a puddle on the floor. for a moment i just watch as it falls, rippling as it crashes to the floor. then it hits me, i cant leave a mess, they cant find out, im struggling again. "fuck fuck fuck" my heart pounds out of my chest as i fall to my knees, wiping the floor with toilet roll, flushing away the tissue. i carefully place band aids over the straight red lines, then wrapping my arm with a white bandage. i look at myself in the mirror once more wiping my cheeks with a deep sigh. i quickly hide the blade back into the back of my phone case before rolling my long sleeve shirt down, heading back to my bedroom.

-the next morning-11:47am-

i roll over with a groan as a bright light fills the room. "morning sweetie, theres a surprise downstairs for you, get dressed and come down" mum says as she opens my curtains then walking back out the door. i huff as i blindly move my hand searching for my phone, grabbing it and turning it on. the time reads 11:40am. i really have to fight myself to not fall back to sleep. i sit up wiping the sleep out of my face, groggily standing up and walking over to my chest of drawers grabbing out a red hoodie and baggy jeans throwing them on, messily tying up my hair in a loose bun, before walking downstairs.

i turn the corner into the kitchen, "so whats this surprise you said about" i ask with a yawn. my eyes snap open when i hear 3 familiar giggles. chris, nick, and matt were stood there with the biggest smiles that could always brighten my day no matter what. i immediately ran to them jumping into their arms, not have seen them for over 3 months. "hey kid" matt greets rubbing the top of my head, "h-how-when?" i struggle to speak through the shock, "we flew in last night, we knew your lazy ass wouldn't be up by earliest 11 so we got here a couple hours ago" nick says, pulling my into the hug tighter. "i-you- you said you couldn't fly back for another 2 months?" i step back, our hands still holding each others. "we managed to get everything done early and surprise our favourite girl" chris explains, his smile not once moving from his face. i step forward back into the hug again "i cant believe youre actually here, i- i missed you guys so much" i sniffle, a tear or two falling down my cheek. "are you okay kid?" "i-yea" i pull them in tighter "just really fucking missed you guys" "hey! language smalls" chris laughs poking at my ticklish sides, making me double over and step away giggling.

-12:29pm-

the four of us decided to go out for a drive, not having much to do in the house. "yo anyone else really feeling a mcdonalds right now?" chris asks turning to have the three of us in his view, matt and nick agree and matt pulls through the drive through. "hi can we get a double cheeseburger meal with a pepsi, and then- what did you want again nick?" chris looks to the older boy, "same as u works" "and another of the same please, and then- matt?" "ill get a chicken nugget meal with a pepsi please" matt says into the speaker box, "y/n what about you?" chris asks, "i-uh, im not that hungry, can i get just a water?" i fidget with my fingers, "are you sure? you haven't eaten yet today?" "im sure, im just feeling a bit sick" "mhm okay, and can i get a large water with ice please? yea that's all thank you" and with that chris sits down properly in his seat.

"so what you been up to angel?" nick asks from next to me, eating from his fries. "nothing much honestly" i shrug, turning from the window to face him. "really? its been almost 4 months and nothing interesting happened? sorry kid but i dont believe that for a second" matt says, looking at us in the back through his mirror. "i dont know what to tell you guys, i really haven't done anything" i look back out the window, biting my bottom lip. "hows school going? mum said youre grades are dropping again" nick tilts his head, attempting to get a glance of my face, i sigh and slump back against the seat. "smalls? whats going on with you?" chris turns fully, slightly leaning against the dashboard. "nothing going on im fine" i snap, bringing my legs up onto the seat and hiding my head behind them, along with the hood of my hoodie. the boys dont push further and just drive home.

pulling into the driveway, i quickly jump out and start heading straight for my room. "hey kid wait-" matt yells, running in behind me. "leave me alone" i huff as i keep walking, "smalls hold up" chris says, lightly grabbing my wrist. i wince in pain as i snatch my arm back, tears forming in my waterline "y/n?" nick whispers softly, "dont tell me you-" he cuts himself off, silently pleading that chris just grabbed me too tight. only nick knows about my struggles with self harm. i had promised nick that if i ever felt like i had to do it again that i would instead go to him. obviously i didn't. i dont respond, i just look down with guilt. "baby no-" he breaths out pulling me into a tight hug. "im sorry, im so sorry nick i swear i- im so sorry" i apologise between cries. chris and matt look at each other confused then back at us two. "nick? y/n? whats going on?" nick moves back a little, "can i?" i shrug with a small nod, i cant believe this is actually happening. my gaze doesn't move from the floor as nick explains everything. how he found me on the bathroom floor back when i was 15 with a razor blade over my bloody left wrist, and how he helped me clean everything up, and how i swore id go to him, and how i clearly didn't stick to said promise. "oh smalls, cmere" chris's voice sinks as he rushes to bring me into a hug, matt following behind and nick not long after joining.

we all stood there for what felt like hours, them just holding me. "how can we help you kid?" matt asks, "i-i dont know- i mean- i dont even know how to help myself, h-how am i meant to know how you can?" i manage to say between sobs. "shh its okay smalls, we'll figure it out together"

-timeskip-11:48pm-

"laura no- what do you mean we need to come back? we just got here" i wake up hearing nick on the phone, to laura from what it sounds like, i creep out of my room, to the top of the stairs that lead down to the living area where the boys supposedly are. "nick what? put it on speaker" chris says. "theres been a couple meetings that you guys need to be at come up" i can just make out through nicks speaker. "what? no we cant, cant you rearrange them for when we're back?" matt grumpily says down the phone, "im sorry matt, i already tried since i knew you guys were going back to boston, theres nothing i can do, you guys need to be back by tomorrow night" "this is so fucked up, what is this even for? we're needed here and not to be rude but this is way more important than any meeting" chris snaps, not at laura directly but at the situation hes found themselves in. "its a meeting with the big companies about brand deals, like i said i really tried to organise it for a month from now but they wouldn't do it, these guys really want to partner with you guys, theyre offering a lot of money" "fuck, can we call you back laura?" nick mutters, "yea sure, call me back asap so i can book your flights okay?" "yea okay bye laura" and he hangs up. "what the fuck are we gonna do?" matt asks, "im not sure, we cant leave y/n but mum and dad will not let us bring her with us either cause of school" nick thinks out loud, "what if we just dont go?" chris shrugs, "we cant not go chris, dont be fucking stupid" nick claps back in a duh tone. "for fucks sake, how many meetings did she say it was?" "theres three, one on Tuesday, one on Thursday and another on Monday" "what if we go and then fly back like straight after? would that work?" matt suggests "i mean it wouldn't not work" nick shrugs "but we cant leave y/n right now dude, shes struggling and what will happen if we just leave again?" chris pipes up again, to which matt huffs falling back into the sofa. "i dont know what to do you guys" nick sighs almost in defeat, "me neither", "fuck."

i let out a shaky breath before getting up and head straight back to my room, getting back into bed. 'are they gonna leave me again?' 'what if theyre gone for months again' my mind starts to race. i snatch my headphones off my bedside table and place them over my ears, playing my playlist, turning the volume all the way up, attempting to silence the thoughts.

-9:34am-

"hey y/n? kid wake up" i rub my eyes open to see my brothers, matt sat on the edge of my bed with chris and nick stood behind him. "whats going on?" i ask slightly dazed, "we gotta fly back to la but only for 9 days and we're gonna be right back okay?" matt says softly. my face drops, i thought i just dreamt last night. "youre leaving me again?" i mutter, "no- well- kinda? but we're going to come right back we swear" chris rambles. "whatever" i mumble, pulling the covers over my head and turning away from the three. "y/n please, we dont want to go but we have no choice, laura called last night and we tried to get her to rearrange it but she couldn't, please understand that" nick pleaded, i didn't reply, i just stayed still and ignored them. i cant believe theyre leaving me again. "im sorry smalls, please dont stay mad at us, we'll be back before you know it" chris says rubbing my shoulder, they all mutter small goodbyes and leave. after i hear the door shut, i let out a small sob i had been holding in.

-7 days later-

the last couple days have been really difficult, and i mean really fucking difficult. i havent left my room unless it was to go to the toilet, which ive only done like twice. i haven't showered. i haven't eaten, or drunk anything. mum and dad are really worried, they keep leaving plates of food and water outside my door but i physically cant get up to go get it, and even if i did its not like im going to eat it anyway. i hate that im such a burden for them, i hate that im worrying them so much. all i knew was i needed them, i needed my brothers. i tried messaging them in our group chat for help 3 days ago but there isn't much they can do being 5 and a half hours away. i huff, slamming my phone down onto my bed. i cant do this any longer. i push myself out of bed, trudging towards the bathroom, locking the door behind me. i tiredly look in the mirror, a worn out, struggling girl looks back to me, begging me not to do what im about to, but i ignore her silent pleads. i turn to the shelves, reaching for my basket on the second bottom shelf, grabbing a box of meds, then lifting a bottle to reveal a new razorblade underneath. i pick up the blade and put the bottle back into the basket. i fill a small cup we have for rinsing up with water before sliding my back down the cabinet, leaning against it. am i actually gonna do this? what am i saying i cant continue suffering like this anymore. but am i gonna leave without saying goodbye? that's a good point, ill write out a text, something simple so they dont suspect anything. a simple "i love you all and appreciate everything you guys do for me<3" yea thatll work, and i hit send. i turn off my phone, placing it on the cabinet, above my head. taking a breath i take a sip of water and swallow a handful of pills, then another, emptying 2 boxes. shit i really just did that. i look down at the silver blade in my hand, so much power is in such a tiny little thing. i slowly move it over my unwrapped wrist, the recent gashes already starting to heal. i push down hard against my wrist and pull, blood pushes out of the slit like its been waiting to escape. again, i push the blade down and pull. again. again. again. again. again. again. the crimson blood pooling around me. again. again. again. i start to feel faint. shit. am i really doing this? i dont want to die? i just want the pain and suffering to stop. shit shit shit. i try get up but my vision starts to blur, no no no, not yet i cant die just yet-

-the same time but sturniolo triplets pov/ no pov?-

ding ding ding all three of their phones went off. chris checks his phone and sees the notification from y/n, to their group chat, even though hes in the middle of a meeting he opens it anyway;

"i love you all and appreciate everything you guys do for me<3"

for a minute, he smiles at the kind words. but it doesn't last last before his smile turns into a frown, "guys, look" he says shoving his phone into his elder brothers faces, "chris what? we're in the middle of something here, sorry about this" nick apologies, as if chris is a toddler interrupting his parents at work, but his face quickly drops as he reads the message, snatching chris's phone from him, to make sure hes reading it clearly. "im so sorry about this but a big family emergency has just come up and we need to go, ill get laura to contact you, and again im so sorry but we have to go" nick rambles as he packs his stuff up and leaves, matt and chris right behind him.

"nick what is going on? you cant just leave like that, that was the most important meeting out of the three!" laura almost yells down the phone, "sorry laura but i think y/n is in trouble so that meeting can kiss my ass because y/n is way more important, i gotta go" "nick-" and he hangs up. the three boys grab their bags that they still hadn't unpacked from before as they planned to fly straight back after the last meeting, and drove straight to the airport. they rushed in and got straight on the plane.

-5 hours later-

knock knock knock "cmon y/n open the door!" jimmy yells knock knock "sweetie you've been in there for hours, are you alright?" Marylou softly but loudly speaks "cmon lovey open the door for us".

"dad mind out the way" chris says and he runs up the stairs, "oh fuck chris you almost gave me a heart attack" jimmy huffs, moving out of the way, along with Marylou standing next to him. once chris gets outside the door he starts to kick it in, matt and nick are not long behind chris and start helping to kick the door in. it only took around 4/5 kicks with their combined strength for the door to slam open, but the scene revealed on the other side was the worst thing they could've ever imagined. they all froze at the sight. the shriek from Marylou seemed to bring them all back as it rung through all of their ears, "boys call 911 now! and get away from the bathroom!" jimmy yells as he takes marylou downstairs and away, sure his mind was running but he knew he had to get his wife and eldest kids away before he could actually do anything.

its like time has paused, yet moving so fast simultaneously. the blue lights can be seen flashing outside the sturniolo residence, matt almost flies down the stairs and lets them in and guides them to where y/n is laying, with chris next to her, holding a washcloth tight over her wrist, trying to stop blood flowing out. "chris move, the paramedics are here" matt shouts as he follows behind them. what feels like at the speed of light, they take y/n into the ambulance before asking "theres only space for one extra person, or we could take her on her own?" "ill go" "ill go" chris and nick say in sync before death glaring each other. "we dont have time for this, im going, you two talk to mum and dad then meet us there okay?" matt says calmy, although much like his dad, hes freaking out like crazy inside.

"is she going to be okay?" matt asks as the ambulance is racing to the hospital, "please tell me something? anything? i need to know shes going to be okay?" he frantically rambles, "i cant be 100% on whats going to happen but no matter she'll live" the paramedic stood over y/n confirms, "so shes going to be okay?" matt says hopeful, "i didn't say that" and with that whispered statement his heart sinks.

-2 hours later-

the ambulance arrived at the hospital and they rushed y/n in. a doctor met matt in the waiting area to question him and ask what happened. nick, chris, jimmy and Marylou arrived around half hour after matt did. matt then had to fill them in on what he knows, which really isn't much. and from then they have just been waiting for a doctor to come over and say shes okay and breathing, and that they can go see her. jimmy and Marylou had nodded of as its almost 3am but the boys were very much still wide awake, not fully used to the timezone change yet.

"um for y/n sturniolo?" a doctor shouts, the triplets jump up and rush over, "and you guys are?" the doctor questions, "her older brothers" "is she okay?" "whats going on?" they all blurt out over each other, "ah, shes doing okay, but she is asleep still. she has a drip that helps try save her liver and we've stitched up her wrists. she'll physically be okay if all goes well but you might want to get her some mental help, i brang out some leaflets that have different ways to help, here" he says passing over a few leaflets to the boys, "thanks" nick hums putting them in his back pocket. "can we see her?" chris asks "give me like 20 minutes to check everything and ill be right out to getcha" the doctor nods with a polite smile.

-20 minutes later-

"hi boys, so everything is okay, you can now go sit in her room but she is still infact asleep so try be quiet, she needs the rest. shes in room 197, second floor" the doctor finally reveals, "thank you so much" all three boys say in sync before rushing off to the stairs.

"there look 197" nick points the a sign hanging above a door. they slowly walk in and see y/n laying there asleep, connecting to a drip like the doctor had said. "she looks so uncomfortable" nick mumbles walking closer to her. "did they say anything about how long it would take for her to wake up?" nick asks his younger brothers, to which they both shrug, and so they decide to sit and wait for her to wake up.

-hours later-y/n pov-

i slowly wake up and my head feels like its throbbing and my heart feels so heavy, like it weighs a thousand pounds. i lift my arms to rub my eyes but i have a strong pain shoots through both, i squint my eyes open to see bright white lights shining down on me. i look down to my arms and see my left wrist covered in bandages, and my right arm is connected to a drip? where the hell am i? i look around a bit more, with my eyes fully open now and i see the boys asleep, they should be in la still? what the fuck happened? -oh. that explains why i feel so numb.

i feel sick to my stomach, i cant believe how selfish i was. to do that. and to let them find me. my whole body feels like its closing in on itself, my heart pounding out of my chest, my lungs being tightly squeezed to the point i can barely breathe. im such a horrible person, why on earth would i put my favourite people through this? i tightly shut my eyes and let out multiple shaky breaths. my head running wild.

"y/n?" i snap out of my trance, to see matt stood over me, drowning in anxiety. i bite my bottom lip and look down, away from his worried eyes. "kid look at me. please?" i reluctantly look back up to the older boy, terrified of what hes going to say. a moment of painful, awkward, silence passes, just looking at one another, no verbal words being exchanged but everything needed was said. he pulls a small, comforting smile onto his face and leans forward pulling me into one of his hugs, attempting to squeeze out all of my suffering.

"omg y/n youre awake!" is almost yelled from behind matt, he pulls back to reveal a happy but anxious chris. "hey smalls, how are you?" i lightly shrug. nick then walks into the wrong with 4 bottles of water, "i bought y/n some water to for when she wakes- omg y/n!" he drops all 4 bottles and runs over to me wrapping me in his tight embrace.

-timeskip- a month later-

its been hard this past week. i got released from hospital like 3 days after i was admitted. ive had therapy sessions three times a week with Dr Louise, shes nice i guess, it might just be me but it feels like she doesn't understand what im going through or what ive been through. like i get shes there to work and get paid but it feels like that's the only reason shes there, like she doesn't care, but hey, i have my brothers. the boys haven't left boston yet, they told me theyd stay for 2 more months minimum before they had to go back for a couple weeks for work then theyd be back again. i know its gonna take some more time but i really feel like im eventually gonna get better. and its all thanks to matt, nick, and chris.

"hey angel, we spoke to laura and we managed to clear our schedules for the next 2 months so we can stay here with you" nick sits down next to me on the couch, chris and matt mimicking his actions sitting the other side of me. "we told her that our favourite girl is more important than any work stuff and we would risk it all just to make sure our favourite girl is okay" chris smiles, wrapping his arm around my shoulders pulling me into a side hug "we would drop everything in a second to fly back here for you kid." "im sorry, about everything. i love you guys" i say with a small smile. "dont apologise smalls, we love you more than youll ever know, like i say, your our favourite girl"

NOTE: sorry im not being too active on here, college is kicking my ass and im js not in the best mental state rn so ive js been a bit distracted? ig idk. i saw that 750 people are now following me and im like speechless, i appreciate and love all of you so fckn much istg🫶

as always feedback is appreciated <333

THANK YOU FOR READING

LOVE YOU HOES

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#sturniolo triplets #h3arts4harry #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo edit #sturniolo #sturniolo angst #sls #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets little sister #sturniolo little sister #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo tumblr #stars.ficcs🌠

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