#ben the boys
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supercap2319 · 7 months ago
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Solider boy bragging to the others about taking male reader’s virginity and huge bubble butt😂
"So, Soldier Boy, the world wants to know is it true? Did you personally take the virginity of rising hero, Tesseract?" The interview asked. There was a rally for Soldier Boy. Anyone who was anyone would be attending. Fans. Haters. Influencers. You name it, they were there.
Soldier Boy smiled a charming confidence smile at the interview. "Well, Nance, you see I sort of took Tesseract underneath my wing. The kid was uncharted territory. A chaste boy. A new boy. Celibate. Whatever fucking word tickles your pickle. The kid was one hundred percent virgin."
"Oh? And what made you think that you had the right to take his virtue?"
"Well, for one, he has a nice ass. It's all big and bubbly. Like a pornstar babe." Soldier Boy said. "But I only popped his cherry because the kid needed to experience getting laid. He needed to feel what a real man's cock felt like and I was the only one to do it. Tell me, Nancy, who would be a better teacher than me?"
"Well, you certainly are charming, aren't you? You heard it here first, folks. Soldier Boy has officially claimed Tesseract's virginity as his own.
Meanwhile, across the city, Y/N had his mouth open as he saw the newscast. He threw his cereal bowl at the wall as the TV had a good view of Soldier Boy's confident smile for the camera. "Son of a bitch!!!"
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bohemianblasphemy · 18 days ago
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The need I have to write a soldier boy x reader is astronomical
I need that motherfucker like water
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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 10 days ago
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I need new Jensen content. I can’t keep watching the same videos/edits. I need more—please! 😭
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v1nsmoke · 6 months ago
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𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞 // 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲
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chapter 3
tw: mentions of su1c1de
summary: The Boys are looking for vengeance, a supe from the past is looking for payback on Payback - and the Ghost in the midst of it all!
1941. After her friend volunteers for the field tested Compound V, she's put on the front lines along with him. Missions continue, even after the war is over. A life controlled by Vought International. That's until 1984. She doesn't keep count of the years since her first, last, and only friend disappeared from the face of Earth without a trace. She tried to stay away from her past, but when the leader of a ragtag group visits her, she feels inclined to take up on the offer. One last mission.
Uninvited guest are a pain in the ass, aren't they? Especially when they are British agents working against supes!
fandom: the boys
a/n: plays during season 3
wc: 1.4k
OUT ON AO3 (UNFINISHED)
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The sound of cars. The sound of people. These were the sounds filtering into her apartment through the window, The Smiths playing from her neighbor’s record player. It was never, ever dead silent here. Something was always making a sound, no matter how faint it was, but it was there.
She didn’t care much for it when she first moved in here, given that she was on the move almost all the time. She missed her travels, it was a whole new experience compared to this. Stuck here, the smell of oceans and forests replaced by the smell of gasoline, water pipes and cheap pizza from the shop on the ground floor of the apartment.
This time, though, there was a new noise. She heard it as she sat on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table in front of her. Her door was one of those creaky ones, the ones that wake up everybody in a two mile radius in the middle of the night. 
Her eyes glanced up from the book she was reading. Heavy footsteps that were trying to be suppressed on her wooden flooring. She sat there motionless, not even bothering to take off her feet from that cheap table. Whatever, or more like whoever it was, couldn’t do any harm. Still, breaking into her house was an asshole move. Especially since it was very amateur work, or who knows, maybe the person was just okay with her slitting their throat open. Or maybe they were just suicidal.
Just as she expected it, somebody entered her apartment, and he didn’t even try to hide it. The man entered her living room, the room where she sat. He did it so peacefully, almost like he was in his own house, in complete disregard that she was sitting right there. She might work like a ghost, but she was never invisible. 
“Nice little apartment, dear,” he breaks the silence with his heavy British accent. His untied boots just carried in all the mud and dirt from the streets, his black coat was worn out.
“Glad you like it, stranger,” she replies, turning her attention back to the book in her hands. The gamblers. Some western that nobody likely ever heard of. 
After getting a good look at the interior, even dusting off some old pictures with his fingertips, the British man looks at her. It was almost as if she didn’t care that he just broke in, acting like this was a daily occurrence. In her hand, he notices the book. He was convinced that there were maybe ten copies of this at most, cause wasn’t aware of this book’s existence up until now. It was a western for sure.
“You wrote some shit like this, didn’t you? What was the title, Outlaws, or-”
“Out of Laws. Now, what do you want? I reckon you aren’t here to discuss my works,” she cuts in. This was the first time he could feel the hint of agitation around her, the first time she seemed to care that he was inside.
“Straight to the point, I like that. You know, you at least don’t look as run down as your little friends,” he smirks. 
Her attention is now focused on the British man. Her friends? Did she even have those? She did, long ago, but this changed since then. Though, she had an idea who this man was referring to.
“How do you know how they’re doing? Did you break into their houses, too?” She asks sarcastically. She knew who this man was, and knowing him, there was actually a chance that he did in fact break into their homes. 
“We paid your friends a little visit,” he exhales, placing his hands into the pockets of his black coat. She was convinced that it was only held together by a single thread.
“Just because I worked with them doesn’t mean they’re my friends. But I assume someone with such  a wide range of past companions as you knows what it’s like,” she states, closing the book and placing it down on the table. “Don’t worry, I know enough about you.”
With a quick move, she throws her feet off the table and gets to her feet almost immediately. Now they were both standing, a staring contest almost ensuing between them. She crossed her arms, waiting for whatever William Butcher came all the way for.
“I had a little yap session with that kid, Gunpowder. Of course, he’s not a kid anymore, but that’s how you remember him, I suppose.”
“And your point is?” She interrupts him. All this foreplay and for what? he would not visit her if it wasn’t something serious. Something had to be up, or he was just here to kill her. Did that scare her? Not at all. 
“Lookie there, you’re extremely chill, I thought you knew who I was!” He exclaims with a grin, his head tilted.
“After a while, you just accept that there isn’t anything that can kill you if you’re me. Now, why did you come here? I suppose you didn’t just jump in to talk about whatever the fuck you talked about with Gunpowder.”
“You, sweetheart, are coming to Russia with us. Gunpowder, and frankly, the news told me that you were the closest person to Soldier Boy. You’re not going to disagree on this, are you?”
For a few moments, she just doesn’t speak. What he said was true, in her eyes at least. She knew Soldier Boy back when he wasn’t even Soldier Boy. Who she knew was Benjamin Monroe.
“And?” That was all she could muster up in that moment. “If you want to know what happened to him, go ask Countess. Whatever went down that day, I wasn’t involved. Ask Grace fucking Mallory. I know you work with her, or at least used to. I still keep in contact with her. That’s how I know about you. Guess trying to help her out in 1984 did have its perk,” she sighs, dropping her arms. 
Brushing past Butcher, she made her way to the kitchen. Few moments later, she was drowning down a whole cup of water. 
“I already went through this with Countess, and even with Grace. Where do you think I got your address from? It’s pretty fucking hard to track somebody who lives up their name this well.”
She really was a ghost at this point. A ghost of the past that is just here to haunt the new generation of assholes. Sometimes she felt like she didn’t even belong here. Sometimes, she was convinced that she should have died somewhere years ago. Killed in war, killed in Nicaragua, killed as a result of old age, but none of these came true. It was almost as if she was immortal. She could have committed suicide years ago, but she didn’t. When she did reach the brink of death, there was Vought. And Vought was not letting their money go.
“But you still know Soldier Boy better than anyone,” Billy continues after the woman’s silence, “and we need that. We are going on a little trip to Europe, where we are going to find whatever killed him, and-”
“Knocked him out,” she interferes, correcting Butcher.
“What?”
“They didn’t kill him. Nothing can. So knocked out it is..”
Butcher closes his eyes for a few moments. This was his version of the eye-rolling move. With his eyes still closed in annoyance, he speaks.
“Yes, knocked out, but we are going to find whatever did that. I know you’ve been investigating his disappearance, and I know you didn’t succeed. Neither did the CIA. This might be your only chance at finding your loverboy, I suggest you take it.”
“Why would you bring me along?” This was her most important question. If Butcher is so keen on finding out what was used against Soldier Boy, then he’s free to do it alone, with his group. It’s not exactly her business. Like he said, she herself tried to find him, but whoever took him was precise and cautious. 
“Because you’re the only fucker on this planet that might know his weaknesses, so you will tell us which of those things we might find have put the world’s most powerful supe into a coma. Or if you really think nothing can end him, then there is a slight chance that we’ll find Mister America himself. Now, what do you say, Ghostie?”
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© v1nsmokes 2024. Do not modify, translate or rewrite.
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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 21 days ago
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I’m obsessed with this! Love seeing angry Ben 🥵 and the smut that sure follows 😏
because i liked a boy🩶
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Summary: It was all so innocent, dating boys with exes. While Soldier Boy isn’t phased by the scandal, she’s being painted as the slut that broke up America’s favorite couple.
Warnings: Smut 18+, angst, cursing, bullying/threats (from public/media and coworkers), drugs, daddy kink, breeding kink
Notes: Inspired by the song “because i liked a boy” by Sabrina Carpenter.
//
‘Home wrecker.’
‘Slut.’
Cruel jabs whispered under people’s breath as she walked through the office. It took all her strength not to turn and respond, to not show an inkling of acknowledgement at their hurtful words. She wouldn’t let them see how upset she actually was at the swirling media storm. It seemed the only newspapers and magazines anyone was interested in had her and Soldier Boy plastered all over it. The compromising picture of her straddling the supe’s lap was printed everywhere. The headlines only made it worse.
‘Assistant Steals Soldier Boy from Crimson Countess’
‘Home wrecker Breaks Up America’s Power Couple’
‘Crimson Countess Blindsided by Gold Digger Secretary’
Perception is reality, and she was being perceived as the slut that tricked Soldier Boy into cheating. None of it was true, but who would believe her? She could scream from the roof tops the truth of the situation, and no one would listen. The only person who had the authority to put a stop to the situation was out of the country on a mission with his “heartbroken girlfriend”. She was on her own. Left to the hyenas to be picked off.
America would be shocked to find out the power couple they so loved to fawn over was bullshit. A fabricated relationship for publicity. While the two supes had dated in the beginning, it didn’t last longer than three months with a rough on and off period for the rest of that year. They only kept up the charade for the cameras and the increase in paycheck.
To the public, Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess were a strong united front. It was behind closed doors that he was hers. Sure, it started out as just casually hooking up, but the amazing sex turned into meaningful conversation then something deeper. She knew it was wrong to be involved with a man that was basically her boss and the most famous supe in the world. But, he was convincing and persistent. Plus, it wasn’t like he was ACTUALLY committed to his fake girlfriend.
She sat down at her desk with a huff. Just when she thought she had escaped the scrutinizing, she saw what had been left for her. All across her desk was what could only be described as hate mail. Pieces of paper scrolled with vile words and threats. The deeper she read into the pile, the more distressed she became. Fear gripped her stomach and tears burned in her eyes with every note.
Beneath the mess, her fingers felt grooves in the surface of her desk. Her hands shook as she pushed aside all the papers to reveal something horrifying. In big bold letters, the word ‘WHORE!’ was carved into the wood. She clapped a hand over her mouth to silence her frightened scream. “Oh my god,” the tears fell as she buried her face in her hands, quietly crying.
There was nothing she could do. Ben wasn’t there. Vought wouldn’t help. No one would help or even believe her side of things. She was utterly alone. Utterly at the mercy of the lynch mob looking for someone to blame.
//
Ben had barely been home a few hours, hadn’t even taken his suit off, when he heard her incessant knocking. A playful smirk adorned his face as he strode through his living room. The last thing he expected when he answered his door was his favorite girl sobbing uncontrollably. Before he could say anything, she threw herself into his arms, wailing into his chest as her body trembled.
“Hey! Hey! Hey! What’s goin’ on?” he gently wrapped her up in his arms, “I was only gone a week, doll. What’s with the water works?”
“They know! Everyone knows!”
“Who knows? What are you talkin’ about, honey?” her panicked heart rate made him uneasy.
“Someone saw us! It’s everywhere, Ben! They’re saying I broke you and Countess up,” she cried before handing him a magazine, “Look!”
Ben took it from her as she began to pace towards his living room. His eyes scanned over the cover photo and headline: an intimate picture of them titled, “Secretary Steals America’s Hero.” What bullshit. The supe simply shook his head and chuckled, “Honey, this has got you so upset? Some sleazy tabloid?”
She stopped her pacing and turned back to him, “It’s not just in the sleazy tabloids! It’s everywhere! They’re calling me a slut and a home wrecker!”
He rolled his eyes as he tossed the magazine aside, stepping towards her, “It’s not the end of the world. It’s just some assholes trying to get a bigger paycheck.”
“Not the end of the world?!?” she nearly screeched, “You’re only saying that because YOU’RE not the one getting dragged through hot coals!“
“Baby, baby, relax,” he held her by her shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles in an attempt to comfort her, “It’ll all blow over. Vought will take care of it. Be like it never happened.”
She trembled in his hold, “You haven’t been here the last three days. Vought hasn’t done a damn thing! Why would they do anything for some supe chasing gold digger that weaseled her way between America’s sweethearts?!?”
Ben couldn’t help the eye roll at the dumb nickname for him and Countess. If the media vultures had cared to follow him more closely, they’d realize he’d been “cheating” on his “girlfriend” for some time now. Hookers, groupies, celebrities, co-workers, any piece of ass he could get his hands on were fair game long before his current relationship came along. It was Vought’s insane damage control that kept up his squeaky clean, all-American boy image.
“This isn’t gonna blow over! They’re probably gonna fire me! Everyone in the Tower already hates me,” she sobbed, “I’m getting death threats!”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Death threats? From who?”
“I-I dont know. They covered my desk in letters telling me to k-kill myself and just…just fucking fucked up shit,” she wiped her eyes frantically, “They carved ‘whore’ into my desk!”
Ben felt his blood boil, anger turning his green eyes darker, “Show me.”
Her fearful eyes finally met his, “I-I can’t go back down there.”
His hold shifted to place her face between his large palms, “Show me. Now.”
//
The entire floor became eerily still when they stepped off the elevator. She tried not to shrink into the intimidating supe as he strode towards her vandalized office. People whispered, and he heard everything they were saying.
“Look who went running to her sugar daddy.”
“How can she show her face here? With him?”
“What does he even see in her?”
Each comment set him on fire, fueled him to see what these sheep had done while he was away. When they reached her office, he all but broke the door off its hinges. She leaned against a wall as she watched him stalk around the scene of the crime. Ben’s brow furrowed as he waded through the pile on her desk. It had grown since she was last in the office. His jaw set harder with every threat, insult, and accusation he read. The final straw was when he set his eyes on the carved wooden surface. It set him off.
In the blink of an eye, he smashed the word, and the desk, in half with his shield. The force was so great that the papers exploded across the room. Fury radiated off him in waves. Running a gloved hand over his facial hair, he paced towards her. She whimpered before he pulled her into his arms and pet her hair. “I’m sorry, honey,” he mumbled kissing her hair, “Go upstairs. I’ll take care of this.”
She shifted to look up at him, “What are you gonna do?”
He shook his head, “Do as I say. Go wait upstairs. Now.”
//
It been hours since he gave his stern order to go wait in his apartment. She nervously sat on his bed smoking a joint in one of his t-shirts, the drug calming her nerves enough to ease some of her stress. She’d barely been able to roll it with her hands trembling so fiercely. There was no telling what Ben was going to do. One could only hope he didn’t kill anyone. He was an all or nothing type of man with everything he did.
When he was a playboy, there wasn’t enough tail or drugs to go around.
When he’s in a real relationship, he was as loyal as a dog.
So, when he said he was going to take care of a problem, he’d fucking obliterate it.
She was jolted from her worrying thoughts when she heard the front door slam shut. Quickly slipping off the bed, she rushed into the other room to see Ben pouring himself a drink at the bar. Her eyes scanned over him, checking for blood and wounds, before approaching him. “W-What happened?” she quietly asked.
He threw back the amber liquor before setting down the glass with a clatter, “It was Countess. She told the press where to find us.”
Her breath caught in her throat, “W-Why would s-she do that?”
He ran his fingers through his hair before looking at her, “Ya know what they say, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’ or some bullshit like that. Now I know why she was actin’ so fuckin’ crazy.”
Countess had been throwing herself at him the full seven days of the mission. She pulled out every trick in her book she knew use to get his engine going. The more Countess tried, the more annoyed he got. It all came to a head when he walked into his tent to find her naked on his cot. She was obviously counting on him still being a complete scumbag like when they dated. Needless to say he blew a fuse on the bitch.
“She did this..for what? To get you back?”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s over and taken care of. No one will be bothering you again,” his voice was stern even as he gently held her, “‘M sorry, honey. I shoulda been here.”
“You were doing your job.”
“My job is also takin’ care of my lady,” he kissed her forehead before pecking her lips, “Speaking of, you feel like lettin’ me take care of you? Put this fucked up mess out of both our minds?”
Her small smile made him smile, “I’d be okay with that. Show my appreciation for the man who’s willing to burn down a whole floor of Vought tower for me.”
Giggling wildly as he picked her up, Ben carried her to the bathroom for a shower. He set her down on the marble counter before walking over to flip on the water. After plucking the joint from between her fingers, he placed it between his lips and began to puff away as he took his suit off. She playfully turned her head to the side, admiring his chest and abs as he worked on his belt. A puff of smoke came out when he chuckled at her, “Enjoyin’ yourself?”
“Not yet,” she bit her lip.
He pulled the joint from his lips before dropping his pants, “You need a good ass spanking sometimes, ya know that?”
“And you’re more than happy to give me one,” she slipped out of her shirt and threw it at him.
The fabric hit his chest and fell to the marbled floor. Ben stepped over the discarded clothes, dick proudly at attention, to stand before her looking like a Greek god. He discarded the smoke in an ash tray by the sink before pulling her to the edge of the counter. She squealed happily and wrapped her arms around his strong neck. Their lips met in a sweet and passionate kiss, rough hands pawing at her hips and waist.
Ben moaned into her kiss. Fuck, he missed her. He had missed her lips, her touch, her cute little noises she makes when he bites right under her ear. They’d been separated longer than a week before, but the past events had him feeling anxious. An underlying worry that this shit show might have ruined a good thing.
“Need a stiff reminder of why I fell in love with you,” she giggled into his kiss which quickly turned to a moan.
His deep laugh reverberated against the bathroom walls, “Thought it was my sparkling personality and good looks?”
A smirk adorned her pretty lips as her hand traveled down and rubbed his hard on, “Don’t make me lie to you, stud.”
He playfully rolled his eyes before yanking her off the counter, spinning her around, and swatting her ass to watch it jiggle. She whimpered and arched her back at the pleasurable sting. Looking into the mirror, Ben towered over her with rippling muscles and hair hanging in his eyes. He looked like a sex god. Her sex god. A large hand trailed up her flushed body before wrapping around her throat. He leaned down, eyes never leaving hers, and growled in her ear before biting it. The shiver that ran down her spine made her arch her ass back into his hips, hard dick settling against her ass.
“Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. Seven days without seein’ that beautiful ‘o’ face was fuckin’ torture,” Ben groaned.
The grip on her neck shifted to lay his palm between her shoulder blades, pushing her down to bend over the marble. Her gaze never parted from his, even as he roughly pushed inside her. A pornographic sound that only he could elicit out of her fell from her lips. She stood on her tip toes and tried to push herself up at the uncomfortable stretch. A strong hand on her hip pulled her back onto his cock while the other bent her over again, “Nuh uh, get off your toes.”
“I-It’s too much, d-d-…,” she stopped herself when embarrassment sat in her stomach.
Ben kept her ass flush with his hips, lightly rutting against her causing her to whimper, “I know it is, baby. I gotta reshape this pussy every time I come back.”
She cried out when he roughly snapped his hips, “Fuck, daddy!”
“There it is. That so hard?” Ben chuckled into her ear as he leant over her.
The whole time they never broke eye contact. She’d fought the urge to roll her eyes into her head, the need to please and see him more important. She reached back and thread her fingers through his soft hair as he began a slow, powerful rhythm. Every thrust nearly knocked the air from her lungs. His animalistic moans and groans went directly into her ear, “You miss daddy? This fuckin’ pussy sure did.”
“Yes! Yes, daddy, I missed you so fucking much!” she cried.
“Push them hips back, darlin’. Show me how much you missed me,” he smirked as he sunk his teeth into her neck.
He broke the eye contact which gave her the go ahead for her eyes to disappear into her head, hips frantically meeting his. She begged for more in between pathetic moans. His smirk branded into her skin over his bite mark as he realized she had become cock drunk. “N-No one does i-it like you, daddy! M-More please, please!” she cried.
Ben looked back into the mirror when he felt her walls fluttering and getting tight around him. It only spurred him to fuck her harder, like a feral beast in rut. He watched her face contort in pure ecstasy as she climbed higher and higher towards gushing all over his cock. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful!” he moaned as he fucked her with a determination, “I fuckin’ love you! Love fuckin’ you, and I fuckin’ love you!”
“I love you too, Ben!”
“I’m yours, baby. You’re mine. So, I’m gonna put a baby in ya,” he growled as his large hand wrapped around her throat, “Want me to do that? I’d love to see a nice shot of you in the tabloids carrying my baby.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she choked out as she teetered on the edge.
His other hand snaked down and pinched her clit, and she came. The obscene sound of her release splashing on the bathroom floor filled the room. Ben didn’t stop. He kept going, pushing her first orgasm into another. Her body shook violently as the pleasure racked through her like she’d been electrocuted. A dark laugh fell from his lips when he felt her knees buckle and he had to hold her up, “Almost there, darlin’. Stay with me.” She could only weakly nod and moaned when his fingers flexed around her neck. Her brain was so fuzzy and fucked out.
Ben felt her legs trembling as he chased after his own high. It felt like the second his mind shifted to his own pleasure, the band snapped. He thrust his hips as deep as he could inside her and came with a loud roar. The feeling of him cumming inside her made her whine and whimper. “Right where it belongs!” he growled through gritted teeth.
Once his hips finally stilled, Ben slowly released her neck and saw a light bruise forming in the shape of his hand. He kissed the mark to try and coax her back to earth. A shudder went through her body beneath his when he pulled out. His spend began to leak out and onto her thighs. “I really rocked your world, didn’t I?” he smiled as he stepped back to look at the mess he made.
“You’re so full of yourself,” she panted.
“I wouldn’t talk when I’m literally drippin’ out of you,” he smiled as he leaned down to watch it.
Once he was done admiring his baby making juice seeping out, he stood up straight and helped her stand up to sweep her into his arms. She cuddled into his sweaty chest as he walked towards the still running shower. She wiggled in his grasp, “No, it’s gonna be cold now.”
Ben shook his head before stepping into the steam and still hot water, “One of the perks of being the top dog is the best amenities money can buy.”
Even after setting her down, she still cuddled into his chest and enjoyed his arms around her. He pet her hair lovingly before resting his chin on top of her head. A content sigh left his chest. A small kiss was placed over his heart. He’d done what he said. It felt like the entire scandal and events of the day were far away and far gone. He’d be damned if he’d let any of those vultures upset his woman like that again.
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nuclearpatrol · 1 month ago
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Detective...
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fonmythenmetz · 6 months ago
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That scene from Obi-Wan Kenobi, but with Luke
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livsmessydoodles · 8 months ago
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still a menace
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zepskies · 6 months ago
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Headcanon: Wearing His Clothes
Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader
AN: I haven't done one of these in a while! This one was requested by the lovely @luci-in-trenchcoats. 💜
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff, spiciness/implied smut
Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you (getting caught) wearing his clothes.
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Dean Winchester
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Ugh, what a cocky SOB. 😆 (And yet, not the cockiest of them all.)
You've been doing it for weeks now, without comment from him.
But every time he sees you in one of his undershirts, getting ready for bed, it's always accompanied by a little once-over. A curve of his lips. A smirk, if you will.
He likes the look of you.
He likes that you're his.
And he likes the fact that you feel comfortable enough to steal his clothes.
He also likes welcoming you into bed next to him, with a hand running up your back, or venturing under whatever undershirt you've decided to slip on to feel the warmth of your skin.
"'S this mine?" he asks. You give him a quirking smile.
"You know it is," you say, with playful challenge.
Dean accepts that with a hum and leans in for a kiss as payment.
Sometimes that one stolen kiss leads to another, simmering with heat. And he’ll take great pleasure in taking back his shirt, casting it to the floor and rolling you underneath him on the bed.
But it doesn't stop at his undershirts. You steal his plaid ones if you want something to comfortably drown in when you're doing research, or just lounging in the bunker. The material is soft from several hundred washes. (The red and black one is one of your favorites.)
Rare though it is for him to wear hoodies, it's rarer still, because Dean can never even find one in his side of the dresser.
That's because you're keeping it hostage on your side, buried under your lingerie. (Even if he tried to find the hoodie, odds are he’ll get distracted.)
It gets to the point where he can hardly find anything of his.
His brows furrow as he rucks through his drawers for something clean to wear, while clad in only his most threadbare sweatpants.
"Damn it, woman. Where are my shirts?" he grouses.
You bite your lip and pretend to keep reading your book. You're already safe in bed, covered up to your chest by the blankets.
"I don't know. Have you done your laundry?" you ask, smiling to yourself. Dean catches you, with a suspicious brow raise.
He climbs into bed and snatches the covers away from you. You yelp at the suddenness and try to grab at them, but it's too late.
He discovers that you're wearing one of his newer shirts, which he had to buy to replace the ones he just can't seem to find.
"Are you kidding me? This is Theft in the First goddamn Degree!" he exclaims, even though he's close to laughing at the way you're already giggling. He manages to pin you underneath him on the bed, and he has half a mind to take this shirt back as well, by whatever means necessary.
And yes, tickling is one of those means.
"Sweetheart, for the love of God. Why do you keep taking my shit?" he asks, in a way that's half-serious in his frustration, but also half-teasing.
You shrug shamelessly, still smiling. You run your hands up his bare arms and shoulders, and back down his chest.
"I don't know. It's comfortable," you say. But your eyes lower as your face begins to warm with a blush. "Makes me feel safe...like you're always with me."
At that, the tension in Dean's shoulders eases. His smile can't help but soften around the edges as he looks down on you, now with fondness. After a while, he lets out a deep sigh.
"All right," he says.
You grin, because you know he's given up. You lean up for a kiss that successfully distracts him.
Dean still gets annoyed sometimes when he can't find a specific item of clothing in his drawer, but now, all he has to do is go over to your side of the dresser.
There he knows he'll eventually find what he's looking for.
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Beau Arlen
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Heh, in this episode of “Whose Hat is it Anyway”...
Beau's wardrobe reminds you of a cowboy in modern times.
Lots of browns and beiges, lots of slacks and buttoned-down shirts tucked in with an army of belts to choose from (even though the man only owns a few pairs of boots). Not to mention a slew of jackets that often pull the look together.
But being that he's new to Montana (specifically, Montana winters), you like to buy him sweaters. Cable-knits and soft ones in earth tones that you think bring out his eyes.
Beau accepts whatever you get him and graciously wears them. He trusts your judgment on what looks good on him, and he appreciates the way you think of him.
It's just one of those ways, however small, that you show that you care and that you're looking out for him.
One night while he's working late, however, you find yourself trying to reorganize the closet. The man is "organized chaos" at best, and you find one of his sweaters on the floor. It's a nice burgundy one that you bought him recently.
Ooh, so soft, you think, while feeling the fabric between your fingers.
You don't know what possesses you, but you decide to slip out of your pajamas and try it on yourself.
SO damn soft, you realize, as you practically drown in the sweater. It hangs about to mid-thigh.
Then you see one of his beige Stetsons hanging on the wall. A sneaking smile curves your lips, before you slip on his hat.
To complete the ensemble, you dig into the recesses of your closet and find a pair of your old cowboy boots. You go out into the bedroom and check yourself out in the mirror with a growing smirk.
"Hey there, darlin'," you try to impersonate your boyfriend's subtle Texan twang, and even his mannerisms by winking at yourself, tipping the hat forward.
You giggle at your own silliness in this moment, but alone in your own house, who freakin' cares? You should feel free to dance naked through the whole damn place if you feel like it.
So you spin on your heel and do a little twirl in your boots.
"Who's the sheriff now, huh?" You mime a pair of guns with your hands and shoot at your reflection. "Psh, psh!"
But that's when you catch sight of one Beau Arlen, leaning against the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed. An amused grin is plastered to his face.
You freeze in shock, still with your "gun hands" held up.
"Oh, don't stop the show on my account," Beau says slyly. He gestures at you. "Please, continue."
Your hot blush spreads from your cheeks and quickly begins to travel down your neck. "Uh...I was just...you know, cleaning the closet. You're very messy, you know!"
Beau snorts and draws closer. Those green eyes of his take in the full sight of you, down your bare thighs and cowboy boots, and back up to your embarrassed face. You bite your bottom lip on reflex.
"You know, I like what you got goin' on here," he says, waving a hand down your form. "But it's just...it's missing something."
He takes his badge with the gold star off his belt and pins it to your sweater.
"There you go. Perfect fit," he says, even as his hand slides up the slope of your back. You find yourself pulled further into his orbit as you try (and fail) to stamp down a smile.
"You're late, you know," you remind him. Beau bows his head and presses a kiss into your neck. You feel his smirk there.
"I'm sorry, Sheriff. Gonna arrest me, or let me off with a warning?" he teases. His other hand comes up to adjust the hat on your head. You smirk and cling to his arms over his dark brown jacket. It's one of his nicer ones.
"I think I can let you off," you play along. You lean up to skim your lips across his cheek, and closer to his ear. "But only for good behavior."
He has to chuckle then. "I can accept those terms..."
Beau's hands slip under your stolen sweater and begin to slide it up your body, inch by inch.
"Though I'm gonna need you to keep the boots on," he says lowly, just before he claims you with a searing kiss.
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Soldier Boy (Ben)
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Oh, here we go. 😅
As with most things, it's a point of pride for Ben.
He'd prefer you be too fucked out to move, let alone put on clothes after he's finished with you.
On the rare occasion that your body doesn't feel too much like warm molasses after a few hot rounds with your boyfriend, you like to at least grab one of his discarded shirts to cover yourself.
If he still has energy, he'll take that as a challenge. He'll try to slip his hands underneath whatever shirt you've found and divest you of it, so he can start devouring you again.
However. Ben does like seeing you in his clothes, in a possessive, claiming way.
There are days when you just want to be swallowed up in one of his large, comfortable shirts as you lounge about the house.
Ben sometimes watches you putter around, cleaning, working, cooking, reading, or watching TV in nothing but his clothes. He wonders if you're even wearing panties. You could be bare faced with a severe case of bed head, but his eyes will still occasionally follow you.
His expression doesn't reveal too much, but he likes it. (And because you know him, you know it too.)
Maybe he'll catch you as you pass by, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You startle with a yelp, but then you grab onto his arms and smile.
"Can I help you, sir?" you tease.
"Think you can just walk by me, looking sexy as fuck?" he remarks. He steals a slow, thorough kiss. You cup his face and bring him back in for more, tenderly stroking his cheek.
"You know why I like wearing your stuff?" you ask. Your smile hints at teasing.
Ben arches a brow. "Why?"
"Because it keeps you looking," you reply. And you reach a hand around to slap his ass, for good measure.
Then you saunter away from him to get back to what you were doing.
Or at least, you try to.
Ben grabs your hand and pulls you back towards him, back into the cage of his arms, where he falls back into the trap you've so often laid. And he finishes what you started.
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AN: Well, then. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy this! Who had your favorite reaction: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 😘
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Dean, Beau + Soldier Boy Tag List (Part 1)
@melancholictearz @spnwoman @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions
@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @rizlowwritessortof @anticxrrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky
@teehxk @midnightmadwoman @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch
@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx
@mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken
@deanfreakingwinchester @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore
@agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @emily-winchester
@tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant
@xxlaynaxx @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @roseblue373
@lacilou @jackles010378 @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse
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dcvina-claires · 2 years ago
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i love when a character is a ghost but in a tragic way instead of a scary way. i love when a character has been dead from the beginning but is still holding on to stay in the narrative. i love when a character could choose to resent the living but ends up loving them instead. i love when a character drives the story but isn’t quite there enough to be at the center of it. i love when the ghosts are the protectors instead of the ones causing the harm. i love when a character is at the heart of the story because depending on where you began it, no matter how you told it, the story is about the ghost who struggled to keep their humanity
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tojigasm · 8 months ago
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Soldier boy is the type to–
"Slow down fr'me, sweetheart. Been a few years." As you're sat on his lap on the couch, thick and veiny cock splitting you open and his plush lips pressing soft kisses up and down the column of your jaw.
"Feels good." Is all you can manage when the rough, calloused skin of his hands are squeezing and rocking the fat of your hips and ass against him.
"Jesus," Ben nearly fucking whines through his teeth and it sends heat straight to your cunt, "Gonna kill this old man one day."
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iskenderix · 6 months ago
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disco!
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sophfandoms53 · 9 months ago
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Anyway shout out to Dewey who constantly looked like he was having the worst time of his fucking life in the pitches
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Just an 11 year old pissed off at the world it seems😭
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slasherscream · 7 months ago
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the absolute INSANITY of the pushing your s/o away thing with the crazy ass boy gang… it’s like triggering a dog’s prey drive but for serial killers w abandonment issues
CRAZY ASS BOYS GANG + PUSHING THEIR HAND AWAY/REJECTING AFFECTION
❥ who gets pissed the fuck off ❥
Billy Loomis - Is irritated off rip. Billy plays it cool but he needs physical affection from you. He’s casual about it so he flies under the radar, but this is a stage five clinger. He’s always doing something small. Touching your fingers. A hand on your back. Neck. Sitting behind you instead of putting you directly in his lap. It’s little stuff. Hovering. Smack his hand away one of these times and his jaw clenches right away. “What the hell is your problem?” Please snuggle up to him and don’t start world war 3. It’s not worth the joke. 
Kevin Khatchadourian - Quick question, why do this to yourself? Kevin does not need, nor does he particularly enjoy, physical contact. Period. He is gracious enough to give you physical contact because he knows you’re built different (pathetic). For you to then turn around and spit in the face of him being kind enough to meet your needs? …. Quite crazy of you. The look he gives you is pure confusion because he’s honest to God baffled. What do you want to accomplish here? Go ahead and start begging now, because he’s not touching you for a long while. 
Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - Swings wildly between damn near dodging any physical affection you attempt to give him to hanging off you like a squid on a ship. No in-between. For you to have the audacity to reject him when he’s feeling clingy? How dare you. He doesn’t have to beg anyone for attention! Did you forget who you’re dating? Doesn’t even care if you did it with obvious playfulness. He’s sensitive. He’s tender. He’s a bitch. He goes to get up and leave entirely and you have to grab him and beg him to cuddle so this doesn’t become a week long cold war. Happy ego stroking! 
Stu Macher - What you’re not about to do is ruin his mood. Baby, he’s about to ruin yours. How about that? If you push his hands off you once he enjoys a little playful bitchiness. Playing hard to get. He likes to chase, it’s cool. Twice? Okay…. We’re irritating him. Three times? He’s gonna grab your hand, stop smiling, and stare at you. When he places his hand back where it belongs, on your thigh, don’t act up again. He could make your whole week go to shit. Don’t start wars you won’t win. He’s the king of playing stupid games and winning stupid prizes. 
Nathan Prescott - Has to bluster and get visibly pissed off because he is rejection sensitive to a degree that is astounding, frankly. Let you see him upset after he tried to be affectionate and you said no? Hah! Not fucking likely. Being physically affectionate in the first place doesn’t come easy to him. Quality time is more his speed. Even worse if it wasn’t a sexual advance he was making. He tried to wrap an arm around you and you shrug him off? You’ll be lucky to get a hello out of him for the next week. Good luck soldier.
David Mccall - Outwardly, he pretends to be despondent and sheepish when you bat his hand away. He’s using sadness as a shield. If he’s sad then you might feel bad and give in. He’ll use any tool in his arsenal to get his way. One of his greatest skills is speaking in a soft voice, just shy of how you’d speak to a toddler, and telling you: “I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” This is all to hide the fact that you rejecting him in any way, shape, or form makes him so angry he can barely think. You might be able to catch the rage hidden behind the veil. If you’re quick enough. David puts on a convincing show, but his gentle smile is twitching at the edges.
❥ who gets sad and mopey ❥
Jordan Li - Oh you pushed them away? No, that’s cool, it’s totally fine. You can want space. Everyone’s entitled to their own space bubble. Of course. Are you having a bad day? Are you mad at them? Did they do something wrong? Did they piss you off? These are the types of questions Jordan is going to “casually” ask for the next ten minutes while they sit really close to you. They’re not touching you! They always sit with their legs spread so wide. Their arm isn’t around you, it’s on the back of the couch. You’re nitpicking here, babe. They’re staring at you with their big brown eyes. No, they didn’t get any closer while you weren’t looking. 
Josh Washington - Why would you do this to him? Don’t push his hand off you unless you mean it or you’re being obviously playful about it. If you pretend to be mad at him while you do it, no matter how unconvincing of an actor you are, he will believe you. Sensitive king. He also won’t go to touch you again until you initiate the contact. Physical touch is reassuring and comforting to him but even he (category five clinger) gets touch aversion at times. As observant as he is, he knows some people are uncomfortable asserting their boundaries, so they’ll try to soften the blow of saying no by being “playful”. He cannot take the risk! You could mean it but don’t want to hurt his feelings. Josh interprets many playful no’s as real ones. Better safe than sorry.
❥ secret third worse thing ❥
Sebastian Valmont - Doesn’t take it for anything more than what it is. If you’re being playful he recognizes it. If you’re seriously not wanting to be touched at any given moment he understands that as well. However, in the case of being playful, you’ve started a war you can’t win. Because, as much as Sebastian enjoys chasing you…  Sebastian also likes to be chased. Ten minutes from now you’ll go to give Sebastian’s cheek a kiss and he’s going to dodge you. Hard. To such an extent it’s bordering on insult. He’ll be wearing a cat that got the canary grin all the while. 
Jason Dean/JD - Doesn’t take you seriously even if you are dead serious. I’m sorry, you’ve discovered his worst character trait by far. Most boundaries are a joke to him. He always wants to touch you. He loves you! He craves you like a drug. You should feel the same for him, in equal measure and desperation. So why wouldn’t you want him touching you? Holding you close. He’s so gentle with you (usually). His arms should feel like home. No matter how long a day you’ve had. No matter how overwhelmed you might be with sound, sight, touch. In JD’s eyes you’re one soul in two bodies. He always wants you near. He knows you want the same. You’re just a little dramatic sometimes.
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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 15 days ago
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Ahhhhhh!! This is exactly what I didn’t know I needed for Christmas! @little-wicked10 you shamed it! I absolutely loved this, tysm!!!!
buy me presents🎁
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Summary: Soldier Boy can’t help his obsession with his little Beverly Hills beauty and spoils her for Christmas.
Warnings: Smut 18+, cursing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, daddy kink, sugar daddy vibes, possessive behavior, subspace, degrading, praise kink, creampie, and lots of other goodies🔞☃️
Notes: OBVIOUSLY inspired by “buy me presents” by Sabrina Carpenter. I went REALLY feral with this one🤭 Merry Christmas @jays-bonnie-on-the-side 🎄
//
“I sure wish you were coming here for Christmas, daddy,” she purred into the phone, twirling the cord around her manicured finger.
Ben groaned on the other end of the line, “Gonna get me hard on set, doll. Don’t be naughty. You know I got a shit ton of PR bullshit to do ‘round here.”
“I’m starting to think you don’t wanna buy me any presents,” she pouted her red lips.
His chuckle in her ear sent tingles across her skin, “I’m startin’ to think all you want is my black card.”
“That’s not true!” she playfully whined, “I want your dick too.”
Ben smirked, “I know you do, baby. Daddy’s been dyin’ without that sweet lil’ pussy on his dick, his mouth, his fingers.”
He was trying to tease her, but his plan backfired when he felt his dick strain in his pants. The little pathetic whimper he heard made it twitch. “Shit, you better not be playin’ with yourself!” he growled.
“N-No, I’m not, daddy. But, you’re being so mean and unfair,” she whined.
“I know, honey, I’m just a bastard, aren’t I?” his cocky tone made her groan in annoyance, “Keep bein’ nice, and Santa is gonna spoil the shit out of his Vixen.”
She moaned and rubbed her thighs together at the playful name. Damn Vought for making him work. Damn the modeling agency for making her work. She’d give anything to skip her latest photoshoots to be back in the arms of her Supe lover. It’s been weeks since the last time she was wrapped around him, and the ache was starting to get unbearable. Chills trickled down her spine remembering the way he slammed the head board of his Alaskan King bed into the plaster as he felt her creaming all over his pistoning cock. By the time she had to leave for Beverly Hills, the whole damn tower knew her name.
As the memories swirled in her lust riddled eyes, a whimper slipped from her painted lips. Ben’s deep groan pulled her from her thoughts. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, baby? Thinkin’ about how daddy had your naked body pressed against the cold glass of his penthouse last time you were here? ‘Cause I think about that all the time. How hard your nipples got, how our body heat fogged up the glass, how you soaked the carpet underneath us by the time I was done with ya,” he grabbed his bulge, “Bet those assholes in make up had a hell of a time coverin’ up all those hickeys.”
She clutched the phone tighter in her hand, panting and moaning into the receiver. He didn’t play fair. She wasn’t allowed to touch herself unless he said so, and he rarely said so. Soldier Boy was a glutton for her suffering and neediness, for those desperate pleas for sweet release. She only disobeyed him once, concluding he couldn’t possibly tell the difference, but he certainly did. The punishment was fucking herself on him while he didn’t do shit, simply sitting back and smoking a joint while she weakly tried to get off without his help. Absolute torture.
“Please, let me touch myself, daddy,” she whined pathetically, “Could be an early Christmas present.”
His laugh made a pit of disappointment settle in her stomach, “Nuh uh, sugar tits. You can wait till I get there next week.” Suddenly, there was the sound of voices in the background. The supe barked at them to fuck off he’d be there in a minute. “I gotta go, honey.”
She pouted, “Fine.”
“Be good, Vixen,” he chuckled, “Santa’s coming to town real soon.”
They were having way too much fun with the Christmas themed teasing.
//
It was around 10 o’clock the next night when a knock echoed through her empty home. She’d fallen asleep draped across the couch waiting on their nightly call. She yawned as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Adjusting her silk robe, she slipped off the couch and padded towards the door. She wondered who could possibly be knocking this late as she slipped down the main hallway. A familiar figure came into view, identity hidden by the frosty privacy glass around the door. She didn’t need to see his face to know who was standing on her front porch. A delighted squeal left her lips as she rushed towards the door and flung it open.
“Ho, Ho, Ho,” Ben smirked.
“You better not have any other ho’s,” she playfully scolded, “What are you doing here? I thought you had PR with Vought.”
“Yeah, I told those fuckers to gargle my ballsack I gotta see my lady,” he smiled.
Removing the duffel from his shoulder, he swept her into his arms and walked into her home. The metal buckles of his suit were cold through the thin silk of her robe and pajamas. Lipstick marked his skin with every kiss she bestowed upon his handsome face. “Save some of those kisses for later, honey. You know how much I love lipstick on my cock,” he growled into her ear.
“Depends on what Santa got me before I decide if I’m feelin’ generous,” she teased.
“Well then let’s get to openin’,” he smiled as he carried her into the beautifully decorated living room.
Once he set her down, she bounced onto the couch, sitting on her knees patiently. Ben sat next to her with a huff and swiftly unzipped the black bag. She giggled excitedly as he began pulling out the most gorgeously wrapped gifts and set them on the coffee table. The paper was a shiny baby pink wrapped with a velvet hot pink ribbon. Once all the presents were spread out for her to pick apart, the supe propped a foot up and lit a cigar. She took a moment to admire the handy work of some poor intern at Vought Ben had most likely intimidated into doing it. Soldier Boy didn’t wrap gifts.
He watched with an amused grin as his spoiled lover suddenly perched herself on his knee and opened every expensive gift he’d picked out: beautiful jewels from Cartier and Tiffany (he couldn’t decide which was better so he went with both), designer clothes and shoes from her favorite name brands, lingerie, and even a sable fur coat.
“Ben! Oh my god, baby! Is this real?!?” she gasped as she held the fur to her chest.
“Of course it’s real. Only the best for you,” he smirked as smoke curled from his perfect lips.
She wrapped her arms around his strong neck and passionately kissed his lips, tasting his cigar. A large hand held her waist as he slipped his tongue against hers. She was quick to face him and straddle his lap properly, “I’m feelin’ very grateful, Santa. I must have been an awful good girl to get all these presents.”
Ben squeezed the plush of her ass, “It’s the naughty things that got you on my nice list, Vixen. And, Santa’s got one more for ya.”
“Oh I can feel it,” she ground her hips down into his.
He clenched his teeth and groaned, “Not that. That’s in a minute.”
Ben picked her up and placed her on the couch, setting his cigar in an ashtray. Kneeling down before her, he took her right leg in his grasp, resting her foot against his shoulder. She leaned back and shivered as his soft lips and rough beard tickled her ankle. They dragged up towards her calf, smirking into her skin when he heard her quiet moan. His free hand reached into his pocket to pull out a small silver chain with a charm dangling from it. The metal was warm as he wrapped it around her slender ankle. Once it was clasped and freely hanging, Ben sat back to let her look at it.
“An anklet?” she asked curiously.
“Mmhm. Look at the charm,” he encouraged.
She removed her foot from his shoulder and tucked her leg against her body, looking down to admire the charm. It was an exact replica of the metal eagle patches on the upper arms of his suit. Her fingers felt engravings on the back. Flipping it around, she read the words, ‘Property of Soldier Boy.’
“I would have paid for a tattoo, but I know that’s not your style. This is muuuuch sexier,” he brought her ankle back to his chest, admiring the silver gleaming in the dim light, “Had it made special for ya. Something pretty to dangle in your face when I’ve got ya bent in half.”
“Isn’t that what your face is for?” she teased as she push her foot against his chest.
With a deep chuckle, he caught her behind both knees and yanked her legs open, pulling her to the edge of the couch, “It’s also a little reminder of who owns this ass.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist, “Make sure no body touches what’s yours, daddy?”
“Oh nobody would ever dare come near ya. If not from my lil’ reminder, then your expensive taste would bleed’em dry,” he leaned forward and kissed her neck.
She thread her fingers through his soft hair, “Your fault for spoiling me so much. Ruined me for any other man with that black card and thick dick.”
“Damn fuckin’ straight, honey,” he bit down hard where her neck and shoulder met, “Ya gonna let me unwrap my present now? Drink you like a warm glass of milk? Santa’s pretty thirsty.”
She nodded with a sweet sigh as his hands began to roam her body with determination. A moan slipped from her throat when he sucked on her jawline below her ear. Small hands slipped down his body and expertly began to unbuckle his suit. Ben let go of her long enough to slip it off. Her flimsy robe went next as his hands greedily shoved up under her tank top, groping her breasts in his large hands. She whimpered as he bit her lip and pinched her nipples.
“Fuck me, I missed these tits so much,” he groaned. She moaned into his mouth and ground her hips into his abdomen. The warmth from her pussy radiated through her flimsy shorts and into his skin. Every pass of her hips made her wetter, soaking through the silk. “C’mere,” Ben yanked her closer to wrap her legs around his waist and stood up.
It was a quick sprint up the stairs before entering her bedroom. He tossed her to the mattress, and she bounced, tits jiggling beautifully. “Naked. Now,” the order was gruff as he began unbuckling his belt. The green of his eyes turned dark watching her slip out of the cute little sleeping set. Only thing left on her body was a silver anklet and a sultry smile. She maneuvered herself on the bed to lay on her stomach, face inches from his hips. Ben’s gaze never left hers as he tossed his boots and pants aside.
He had a cocky swagger as his hard dick bobbed with every step. Her mouth watered, and she licked her lips at the sight. A deep chuckle reverberated from his chest, running his fingers through her hair before taking a handful, “I know that look, doll.” She bit her lip and stared up at him through her lashes, her crossed ankles swaying in the air. She leant forward and placed a bright red kiss mark at the base of his cock. He shuddered at the feel of her soft lips and warm breath.
Just as he asked, she decorated his cock in her lipstick. First, leaving kiss marks all the way up to his head. They all began to smear once she took him into her mouth, bobbing up and down until she was ready to take more. The hand tangled in her hair started guiding her as his hips started fucking into her mouth. Tears burned in her eyes, mascara beginning to run, but she kept going. He was taking it easy on her considering how long it had been since the last time they’d fucked.
“That’s my girl. You remember how to do this. Relax your throat a lil’ more for daddy,” Ben growled, “J-Just like that. Fuck, you’re such a good girl!”
She moaned around his length.
“Gonna cum down that pretty throat, honey,” he growled, “Swallow it. Fuckin’ swallow it!”
Her throat constricted around his girth as he came. He slowly began to pull his cock out, still throbbing and squirting into her mouth. He smeared the head of his dick against her tongue. She held her tongue out to show the last of his essence before swallowing. Ben kneeled with a sly grin and wiped her tears with his thumb, “That’s my good lil’ slut.” Her eyes were glazed over and her lips wet as she nuzzled into his hand. He suddenly picked her up and laid her against the plush pillows.
He caught her shamelessly watching his muscles stretch and flex as he laid on his stomach, throwing her legs over his broad shoulders. The tinkling of the anklet made a feral feeling settle in his body. “Your turn,” he grinned.
“Oh daddy!” she cried as his mouth enveloped her pussy.
The way he swirled his tongue around her clit then dip into her entrance made her begin to pant. Tiny, pathetic whimpers escaped her lips as she tried to roll her hips against him. The scratch of his beard her favorite sensation when he went down on her. Ben moaned and shook his head side to side, letting his tongue and facial hair rub against her sensitive folds. “I fucking love your beard, daddy! I want beard burn on my pussy!” she cried. His chuckle vibrated against her. He loved the sound of her desperate babbling.
Her small hands grasped at his hair frantically when he stuck his tongue inside her and ran his thumb over her clit. The calluses on his fingers added to the sparks tingling her nerve endings. She suddenly arched her back to rub her pussy against his face more. Two thick fingers replaced his tongue, and he sucked her clit into his mouth. Hooking his fingers, he assaulted that sensitive little spot inside her.
She nearly screamed as the damn burst, and she gushed all over his face and hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! YES, DADDY!” she screamed.
Ben’s groan vibrated through her and helped in adding to her pleasure. Her body trembled and spasmed as the waves crashed over her. Her first orgasm quickly bled into another as he kept up the pace. He only stopped when she began to push his head away and whine. “T-Too much, daddy! Need your cock! Now! P-Please!” she hiccuped.
His hot breath panted against her abused center. Their eyes met, and he could swear he saw cute little pink hearts in her blown pupils. Sitting up on his knees, Ben wiped his beard before pulling her hips to his. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his massive length rested against her slick sex. He held her hips in his hands as he watched her large breasts heave with each pant that escaped her bitten lips.
“Those fuckers you work for should put this image right here on the cover,” he felt her pussy lips clench on the underside of his cock, “Fuck, you like the idea of people seein’ what a cock drunk lil’ whore you are, baby?”
She dumbly nodded, not a thought forming in her fuzzy, lust-fueled mind.
Ben rut his hips back and forth, coating himself in her slick, “That face right there is why Santa was so good to you this year. Ain’t even put it in yet and you’re already a fucked dumb whore.”
She whined and whimpered, hips wiggling in anticipation as he notched his tip at her entrance. The need burned deep in her stomach, but she was being patient for him.
“My fucked dumb whore. My pretty lil’ slut,” he started to press his hips forward, “My favorite girl. Daddy’s spoiled princess.”
Ben moaned as her cunt clenched around him at his praises. He was a possessive son of a bitch, and feeling that anklet pressing between his lower back and her ankle made him fucking animalistic. His right hand slid from her hip to circle her clit with his thumb. She cried out and he moaned when their hips were flush together, tip kissing the back of her cervix. She never got tired of that overly full feeling only he could give her. That sweet stretching of her opening was addicting. Ben leaned over her, left hand holding her hip while right leaning against the mattress next to her head. Just as she was about to beg for him to move, his hips snapped forward. Each thrust hard and deliberate in reshaping her plush, velvet walls to his cock again.
Small hands held on to his strong neck and broad shoulders as her eyes watched his abs flex. She drooled over the way his body looked as he fucked her. She didn’t know what possessed her mind to conjure it, but she thought he was so pretty. Prettier than any gift he’d gotten her. It was odd to think of a man so ruggedly handsome as pretty. His forest green eyes dark with lust, his long hair hanging in his face, perfect smile adorning his face every time she cried out his name. It was beautiful.
“Sss…ssso pretty, d-daddy,” her right hand skimmed down his chest, red nails tracing down his V-line, “Prettier t-than m-me.”
Ben chuckled down leaned down on his forearm to brush his lips against her cheek, “Not prettier than you, baby, but I appreciate the compliment. Ya like daddy’s pretty cock inside ya?”
She gasped when he picked up his thrusts. The way her nails kept tickling his V-line made him shudder. Suddenly, he took her hands in his, intertwining their fingers and holding them above her head. Her legs wrapped tighter around his hips as he drove into her deeper. The only sound leaving her lips ‘uh, uh, uh’ over and over again. He sucked on her neck, leaving large bruises all over her neck. Each love bite soothed over with the pass of his tongue.
Her whole body was tingling and writhing. This was why he didn’t want her to play with herself. Her body was so sensitive and responsive to him it was insane. Selfishly, he wanted her to only get pleasure from him. Only cum when he wants her to, in the way he wants her to, however many times he wants her to. She was completely at his mercy, addicted to his touch. He suddenly flipped them, placing her on top before letting go of her hands to wrap his arms around her. She slipped hers around his neck and head, grasping his brown locks to make him look her in the eye.
His thrusts continued at a brutal pace. His teeth bit into her bottom lip as she moaned and trembled. When his right hand trailed up her spine, he took a fist full of her hair and pulled her mouth to his. The mind melting way he kissed her made her move her hips more with his thrusts. Suddenly, his left hand moved down to harshly grab and slap her ass. He swallowed her gasp when he suddenly circled his finger around the hole he wasn’t fucking. “O-Oh, fuck, baby!” he stuttered as her inner walls choked his cock, “Didn’t know you wanted daddy to play with your asshole, did ya?”
She could only whine, enjoying the constant circling of his middle finger over the small hole. The way their bodies pressed together made her rub her clit against his pelvis. She frantically rode him as he kept fucking up into her. Her voice went up higher in pitch the closer she came to exploding. “Look at you! Gettin’ off to daddy teasing your ass and fucking you raw. I’m gonna have to pull out.”
She gasped and held him tighter, nearly sobbing, “No! D-Don’t pull out, daddy! Stay i-inside! Want…huh…it inside!”
Ben smirked at the sound she made when he ground the tip of his dick into her cervix. He fucked her like a beast, primal need driving him to claim her in the most feral ways possible. And, she was going to let him for as long as he pleased. Her orgasm hit them both like a truck. She dug her nails into his chest, screaming and whimpering as she squirted all over his lap. The wet sounds filling the room were fucking obscene. It sounded like a dog drinking water as he kept ramming into her.
“Oh fuck, you can’t stop,” he laughed, “You can’t stop cummin’, can ya? This pussy won’t stop squirtin’!”
She let out little panting whines as her body jerked and convulsed. A scream of ecstasy came from her mouth when Ben hooked the tip of his finger into her asshole and slammed her on his cock. Both nearly blacked out as he came deep inside her with a loud roar that bled into a moan. The way her walls constricted and tried to push him out made him pump harder, deeper, forcing her sensitive body to spasm around his cock.
The two rode their highs, gently rutting against one another. Sweat clung to her skin while only a light sheen dusted the his. It would take a couple of rounds before the supe truly broke out in a sweat. Ben whispered sweet things in her ear as she floated down to earth.
“You did good, baby. Daddy’s so proud of ya,” he cooed into her ear, hands moving soothingly over her skin, “Best Christmas present I could’a asked for.”
She only hummed as she littered his chest and neck with kisses. Neither moved from their position, staying as close as possible. She stayed pressed against the expanse of his chest as he leaned over and took a joint from the night stand. The lighter flicked to life and the smell of weed filled the air. Her mind was still foggy and lightheaded, snuggled up in a syrupy sweet state. If he pulled out right now, she’d throw a desperate and pitiful tantrum, but he had no intention of leaving her insides any time soon.
Ben heard her heart rate slow and breathing begin to equalize. Her mouth nuzzled against his jaw playfully as her hands wondered over his muscles, “I have a present for you, daddy.”
“Another one? The only present I want is to do THIS until one of us passes out,” he smirked.
“We do that all the time,” she giggled, “Grab the black folder from the drawer.”
Holding the joint between his lips, he once again reached to the small table. He opened the drawer to find black folder with his Supe name printed on the cover in silver letters. Ben settled back onto the bed and opened the gift to reveal a spectacular sight. Picture after picture of her in the most revealing, jaw-dropping lingerie, while posed in the most ball-achingly, sinfully delicious positions.
“Holy shit! When did you do this?” he asked looking down at her.
Her giggle turned into a whimper as she felt him begin to throb and harden inside her, “Playboy asked to do a shoot with me a few weeks ago. I asked Hugh if I could borrow the set up for something special for America’s Hero.”
The more he kept flipping through the glossy pictures, the stiffer he became inside her. She weakly pushed herself up to sit up and on his dick. By the time he tossed the folder on the bed, she was rolling her hips and frantically fucking herself on him like a bitch in heat. “You read my fuckin’ mind, doll,” he moaned as she took his large hands and placed them on her tits.
“One…one more…present,” she panted, hands encouraging his to be rougher with her chest.
He couldn’t tear his eyes from where his dick disappeared inside her, “Thought I was supposed to spoil you? What else did ya get me?”
Her eyes had been pinched closed, but she pried them open to look at him. She bit her lip before finally letting it slip, “I want you to f-fuck me at H-Herogasm. In front of everyone, daddy!”
Ben almost came again, “Goddamnit, seriously?!? Are you for real?”
She nodded frantically as she kept bouncing, “Only you. N-No one else!”
His head thumped against the headboard as he groaned in deep satisfaction, fingers pinching her nipples, “Just me, honey, you got it! Christ on a cross! I think I’m in love!”
She let out a breathy giggle, eyes rolling into the back of her head, “M-Merry Christmas, daddy.”
“Merry fuckin’ Christmas, baby,” he moaned.
//
Have a very Nonsense Christmas🎄💋
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suugarbabe · 19 days ago
Text
curls || mattheo riddle
summary: you couldn't help yourself, you just had to fix them. it's not like he seemed to mind your fingers in his hair anyway.
an: another yap fic courtesy of me and @musingsofahufflepuff ; you're welcome. had to include the pic because if you have brown curly hair i'm in love with you.
warnings: none; just fluffy goofiness.
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Staring wasn’t usually an issue for you. Typically you could take your glances here and there and still focus on what you needed to do. But today, you just couldn’t turn away.
Mattheo wasn't your boyfriend. He wasn't even really your friend...you didn't think at least. You weren't in his little group of pals. But he also didn't ignore you like he did most people.
People often thought it was strange how nice he was to you. Not that he ever really sought you out or anything, but if your paths crossed he would say hello to you, would smile at you even.
You knew he was attractive, and your friends were convinced that he thought you were too. Of course you brushed those off. However if he was your boyfriend your current irritation could be fixed without question.
Mattheo's hair looked flat as hell.
The top of his head looked like he'd been wearing an American baseball cap for about a week straight. His hair seemingly flat around his skull and his curls twisting at the ends.
It really was a shame. If he would just fluff his roots his entire hair would come back to life, you were sure of it. But you couldn't just jump the desk in front of you to get to him, rifle your own fingers through his scalp and revive his ringlets.
"Alright everyone! Partner up, partner up!" Slughorn waved his hands in the air, dismissing the class to form pairs for brewing Draught of the Living Death.
Immediately you rounded your table, lightly grabbing his elbow. Mattheo turned towards you at your touch, a grin forming on his lips. "Partners?" You asked, hoping your look didn't appear to pleading.
"Sure thing, babe," Mattheo responded without hesitation, pulling the stool next to him out for you before grabbing your books from your previous table.
Throughout the potion preparation you kept stealing glances at him. Er, well, his hair. You did need to brew the potion, but you'd be damned if you left this lesson without correcting his curls.
"Have I got something on my face?" Mattheo jested. You laughed lightly, shaking your head before picking up the last of the ingredients to toss them in the cauldron.
Mattheo began to sir, the color of the potion changing correctly with what you both were doing. And you were staring again. You knew it. You knew he could feel it because he was grinning once more.
"Can I just.." you pointed somewhat shyly at his head. Mattheo cocked his head slightly, giving a small nod.
You let out a sigh of relief, lifting your hands and quickly threading your fingers between curls and to his scalp. As you fluff his hair, nails scratching as his scalp slightly, Mattheo's eyes almost involuntarily roll.
"Merlin's fucking beard, that feels good," Mattheo praises as you finally take your hands away from his head. He shakes his head back and forth, his curls flopping this way and that before standing still again, giving you a big smile, "Better?"
"Godric, yes," you breathe, "I'm sorry, Matty. The flatness was killing me." Mattheo bit his lip to stifle a laugh, "Oh yeah? Tell me how you really feel, babe."
You gave a playful shove to his shoulder, "You really should pay attention to your hair more. It's one of your best features. But Enzo did just get that new haircut and might I say..." you gave an exaggerated sigh and fanned your face with your hand.
"You saying Enzo's hair looks better than mine?" Mattheo laid a hand on his chest, mocking offense. You shrugged, grin continuously growing.
Mattheo gasped at your lack of response, squeezing your side playfully. You giggled, pushing his hands away, "Okay, okay. I'm just saying you need to take care of those curls or one hot guy haircut is gonna make you fall down the ranks."
Mattheo shook his head, his now lively curls bouncing as he did. "Listen, if you ever. And I mean ever see my curls dead again, I don't care what I'm doing, you stop me and fix them. Preferably with the head scratches like you just did."
There was no thought needed, no extra considerations, before your immediate response, "Deal."
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