Love Me Some Pie

𝘏𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺. You knew taking this job was a mistake before you even sat down at the table. The whole elevator ride up to the topmost floor of Vought Tower, you debated heading back down and typing your resignation. The very sexism you'd been trying to avoid since graduating from NYU's journalism program seems to have followed you into the workforce. You're not naive enough to think you'll never deal with impossible men, but you hoped your first assignment wouldn't be so transparently superficial.

Soldier Boy likes his reporters pretty, your boss said. Take one for the team, ask a few questions about his newest movie, make him feel special, and I'll give you the front page.

You replied that you didn't want the front page, not for a celebrity puff piece, to which he replied with a thinly veiled threat to your job. So, you put on your least flattering outfit out of spite, clinging to androgyny like a shield, and called a cab to the Tower, close to the end of the day, so as to ensure you could drink your sorrows after.

You don't know what's waiting for you in the Supe's conference room, but you're surprised anyway. He's taller than you expected, for one. And instead of wearing his suit or some movie prop ensemble, he's in a Mets jersey and blue jeans. His eyes, you realize, are impossibly green.

Thankfully, he opens his mouth before you can get starstruck. "I was promised legs for a mile and an ass you could bounce a quarter off," Soldier Boy remarks.

As it turns out, he's just as vile as you expected. You recoil, eyebrows shooting up. "I'm a journalist, not a hooker."

"Shame," he replies. "Pretty face."

You clear your throat. "Let's just keep this professional, yeah?"

He snorts. "You're no fun, are you?"

"I'm not interested in games."

"That's a shame. I know a good one."

"I'm here to listen to you prattle on about your stupid little movie until I get a soundbite. We're promoting. That's it."

"So you're not a fan."

"Astute observation."

He scoffs. "Well, I can think of a hundred things more interesting than a silly movie."

"Now that we can agree on."

"Ouch," he replies, hand to heart. "Aren't you a piece of work?"

"Pot, kettle."

"And feisty too. I like that." He throws in a wink, and you wish you were a supe, so you could shove him out the window. It probably wouldn't kill him, but it would make you feel better.

You can't hold back anymore. He's staring at you like a piece of meat or a car he wants to buy, and it's enough to tempt you into a homicidal rage. You need to squash his flirting now. Job be damned. "Do you honestly believe the sole function of every woman on planet earth is to stroke your giant ego and your tiny dick?"

Soldier Boy's lips purse. You struck a nerve. Point for you. "On the record? Nothing tiny about it."

"You're unbelievable."

He chuckles like you've said something funny, leaning back in his chair. "You know, I can't figure you out."

You scoff. "This was a waste of time."

"Sit."

The lowering of his voice, the authoritative bark of an order, gets you to oblige him. Maybe it's not too late for a quote or two. You're brainstorming excuses to your boss as he narrows his eyes and skims you over.

"You think I can't hear your heart beating a thousand miles an hour? You aren't scared of me. No, your body seems to like arguing with me. It agrees with you. Makes those pretty cheeks so pink, doesn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Never play poker, sweetheart, you'd give yourself away before you ever won a dollar."

"Thank you for your time, Soldier Boy." You rise to your feet, ignoring the heat in your cheeks, the molten lust in your core. He's the kind of extraterrestrial handsome that makes your brain forget he's a crap human being, and you're a professional, not a schoolgirl with a crush.

"Ben," he corrects you. "If I'm gonna make you squirm until you admit I got you going, you call me Ben."

"I admit nothing." But your voice wavers, betraying you. You're not convinced, because he's looking at you like you're the most important thing in the world. Hungry, longing. Poised to drink you like a glass of fine champagne. You imagine he's seen a lot of beautiful women, and he gets them moon-eyed because he makes them feel special.

You gather your things in a huff, realizing you need to get out before he bends you over the conference table.

"So if I reach between those pretty legs of yours, you'll be dry as a bone?" He steps closer, framing you against a wall. "Huh, sweetheart?"

"Don't touch me," you say, without conviction.

"Why? You gonna stop me?" Ben steps closer, pinning you like a butterfly. Something beautiful he wants to keep.

Your eyelashes flutter as you blink furiously up at him. "I... Ben..."

"Like the way you say my name. All breathy and needy. Ben," he mocks you. "I bet you've watched my movies, haven't you? Are you a fan?"

You've seen them. Research purposes. They have nothing to do with his dashing good looks. You know what he's really like: a scoundrel in the gossip tabloids, a party boy, an asshole in the backrooms. And yet, all of a sudden you can't remember why you didn't want to do this interview.

You kiss him. You can't help yourself from slamming your mouth into his, lips tangling before his tongue slips inside and paints you in new shades of pleasure. He tastes like whiskey and spearmint gum, and the heat of his lips dragging over yours sears you down to your toes. He undoes your trousers with a singular flick of his fingers, and when they pool around your ankles, he lifts you into his arms, tosses you down on the boardroom table, and spreads your thighs.

His mouth finds you through your panties, suckling on your clit, tracing your folds through your damp panties and ruining the fabric with his tongue. You gasp for air, tugging at the golden strands at the crown of his head. Just when you're about to come, one high heel dangling precariously off your foot, the other lost in the shuffle, you realize anyone could walk in at any moment, and ruin your credibility.

"Wait," you gasp. "Someone could—"

"No one will. This is a private meeting, and they know better than to ever disrupt a private meeting," he assures you, and the undertone in his voice sends a thrill down your spine, a reminder that he's the darling of Vought, the leader of Payback. He's practically a god.

But he's all man when he undoes his jeans, his cock springing free, and buries himself balls-deep in you without a condom. You're grateful for your implant when he rolls his hips, kissing your cervix with his thick length. The pleasure that washes over you turns your brain to mush, and suddenly, you don't care that this is a terrible, doomed idea.

You cling to him as he shakes the table with every thrust, angling himself just right. You come undone once, and he strokes your clit through it, pounding into you hard enough to make you see stars. He touches you until you're coming again, gushing around his cock. He fills you up with hot ropes of his milky release, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip as he pulls out, tucking himself into his jeans.

You're ruined, sweating and gasping, and he's the picture of ease. Stupid supe stamina.

"So," he says. "What do you need for your article?"

𝘋𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺. Of course, you happen to be at the same party. It's a VIP event, a shark tank you're chumming the waters of. You don't know why you made it onto the guest list, but you're not complaining, because you get to wear a Press badge like a professional and get insider scoops on Vought's dynasty. Most journalists would kill for a job like this.

You're two free flutes of champagne into the event, and you feel like an impostor. You also feel like sneaking a flask of rum in was a terrible idea, because you're veering a little too close to drunk territory. How else could you get through this?

You splurged on a fine dress for the occasion, fancy high-heels and updo included. You wear your badge and smile with all of your pearly white teeth, batting your eyelashes too, for good measure. It's easy to catch stories when you're roaming about the crowd, listening to rumors about Black Noir branching out into technology research and Countess's latest diva meltdown.

You find Ben when the champagne settles, face flushed with heat. You're standing near the window, looking out at the Upper East Side. You feel him looming over you before you smell his cologne.

His lips graze your ear. "I was hoping you'd show up."

"So I should thank you for the invitation?"

"Who am I to deny you the chance to practice good manners?"

You roll your eyes, turning to face him. "You're trouble."

"I know."

"Maybe I should run a story about you and Countess," you suggest. "Since she's your girlfriend and all."

He scoffs. "PR is good for a PR relationship, but I thought you were writing more important things these days. Exposés and all that. Heard you got a CEO fired."

You glance away, keeping your voice low. "I wouldn't come to a Vought party to give them bad press. I'd like to be on their good side."

"Theirs or mine?"

"Hopefully both."

He smirks. "You wanna step out for a minute?"

"Stepping out" is code for commandeering a coat closet, jamming a chair under the door knob to lock it, and riding Ben on a pile of other people's jackets. You don't care, mostly because corporate assholes deserve far worse than a few wrinkles.

You lower yourself onto his cock, split open by the position and the girth of him, filling you in every way. He was right, the day of the interview, when he said there was nothing small about him. You didn't appreciate that fact until now, as he's pulsing inside of you, hitting every spot of pleasure as he takes you.

The way Ben looks at you, submits to you, like he's not the most powerful man in the world, like he couldn't have anyone he wants. He looks at you in awe, at your mercy as you place a hand against his chest for leverage and crash your hips into his.

"Ben," you whimper. "Fuck, Ben!"

You bite your lip to muffle the sounds, his fingers gripping your hips and thighs tight enough to leave tiny bruises. You come apart, your walls clenching around him as he buries himself deep enough to kiss your womb. He spills into you with enough hot cum to fill you until you're gushing all over yourself and the front of his slacks.

"Might be time to head back to the hotel," he says, as he helps you fix your dress. "You look like a mess."

"You're worse," you tease.

"Damn right." He kisses you deeply, slipping a room key into your hand. "See you in five."

𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺. After the mixer, you and Ben come to an understanding. One that happens when he's in your neighborhood during a patrol, or a late night at the office, or an event you both happen to be at. You have sex, and occasionally eat together after. No one stays the night, no one knows except the pair of you. He doesn't call to ask about your day, doesn't tell you about his.

Until your boss passes you up for a promotion. You come home in tears, humiliated by the way he treated you, the way he talked down to you in the meeting before giving the job to some wide-eyed boy without a degree whose only claim to the role is a rich daddy playing golf with the paper execs.

You know it's because you're a woman, because you're also the best writer on the paper, and you also write the biggest stories.

Ben has the misfortune of calling while you're sobbing into a couch pillow. You almost let it go to the machine before you see the caller ID. You pick up with a sniffle, voice thick. "Yeah?"

"Hey, sweetheart," he says softly. "What's the matter?"

You sniffle guiltily. "Nothing."

He scoffs. "If it's making you cry, it's not nothing."

"Why're you calling me?" you ask, trying to change the subject, because his voice is soft in a way you've never heard it, and you're trying to keep it together instead of falling apart. Something twists in your chest, affection threatening to rear its ugly ahead.

This is casual, right? Just two people who have sex. One guy who's a famous, notorious womanizer, and the other a journalist who's written a few decent articles, but otherwise, is unimportant. Just a human. No special powers or colorful capes.

Who are you to someone like him besides a good fuck?

"I was in your neck of the woods," he drawls. "Figured we could order in, and you get to be my dessert."

Any other day, you'd say yes. Any other day, you'd give in so fast it might almost be desperate. "Ben, I don't know."

"Well, this is awkward, because I'm at a payphone in the lobby of your building."

You sigh. "Any chance you leave me alone?"

"Not with my favorite girl so down in the dumps."

You hate him for saying it. Hate yourself more for preening at the nickname. You'd let him ruin you in a heartbeat, and you'd give him anything he asked for. All in exchange for pretty, empty words, and a couple of orgasms.

He's knocking a few minutes later. You unlatch the chain, and he holds up a bag of Chinese food. "You got makeup everywhere, sweetheart," he tells you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. He gestures to his cheekbones. "Let's clean you up."

He wipes your makeup away with a wet washcloth, surprisingly gentle. It's so strange, so unlike Soldier Boy. It occurs to you, as he cleans your face, all puffy and swollen and ridiculously emotional, that Soldier Boy and Ben aren't the same man, not at all.

And you're in love with the real thing.

But he can't know that, because he'll break your heart into a thousand pieces and go right back to cocaine and plowing Payback superfans with tighter asses and more cleavage.

You can have this, though. Whatever this is.

So you eat dinner with him, and then you kiss him, climbing into his lap and carding your fingers through the golden strands of his hair. He stops you, gently, green eyes folded into silent questions.

"What are you doing, sweetheart?" he asks. He's hesitating, ready to go without sex, like this isn't a transaction, like this is something real. Something sweet, like a friendship.

"Just want to feel better," you answer.

"We don't have to do anything."

"I want to," you insist, kissing his neck. "Please."

You need to do it, just one last time. Remember him like this, before you have to push him away and let him go. It's the only hope you have of making it out of this without falling apart.

This, you decide, is the one time you'll let yourself pretend he loves you too. This Ben can be yours, just this once.

He carries you into your bedroom—a place he's never been before. You usually don't make it past the couch, and one time, the shower, but he's never done this with you before. Had you in your most sacred space. But you don't have time to marvel at the newness, because he has you on your back in seconds.

He kisses gently down your torso, kneeling in front of you to worship you, and then he spends a half an hour sucking and teasing and bringing you to the edge again, and again, and again. Until you're slick on your thighs and bleaching his beard and so overstimulated you feel like you'll explode.

When he comes up for air, and you're trembling and puffy, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand before he kisses you softly and asks, "Wanna talk about it?"

You promptly burst into tears.

His pants never come off. Instead, he holds you in his arms and listens to you babble about work and make excuses for what's really bothering you, the deeper issues, and how much you love him.

No, Ben can never know about that.

He just pets your hair until you're all cried out, and keeps watch over you until you're asleep.

He's gone when you wake up.

He doesn't call for six months.

𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺. You're patched up, but broken up. You're still hopelessly in love with Ben. You read every story you see, every magazine spread at the bodega two blocks over. You watch the TV interviews, the movie reruns, and you think about him all the time. He consumes you, every morning and night, constantly on your mind.

Ben. Ben. Ben.

You don't know how you let this happen, let yourself get mixed signals. You're better than this, aren't you? You know how to separate casual sex from a romantic connection. You're a professional. A serious journalist who's going places.

And now you're a silly girl pining after a man you can't have.

He turns up on your doorstep after midnight, a bag over his shoulder, his beard grown out. He looks tired, but triumphant. You're standing there in your nightgown, eyes sleepy, exhausted from a weekend spent moping over your shitty coworkers and the one bright light in your life that's gone out.

"Ben?" you whisper. "You... What are you doing here?"

He doesn't wait for an invitation before he pushes past you and walks inside, talking over you. "I have a story for you."

"What are you—"

"I have a story," he says again, more insistent. "Soldier Boy retires."

"W-What?" you stammer out.

"I'm cashing in on my fifty million and leaving Vought," Ben explains. "Finished my contract and decided not to renew it. I'm older than I look anyway, and I want to start living, properly. I want to do it with you."

You're flummoxed, eyes wide, shocked. Of all the things you've fantasized about, good and bad, you haven't considered this before.

"You don't have to be with me," he continues. "I know this ain't... that we had an agreement. No strings, no feelings. But the other night, that night six months ago, I realized what was right in front of me, and I thought, fuck Vought. I'm gonna retire, and I'm gonna marry the hell out of that reporter who drives me insane. Because I love her. And I didn't know I could feel that way about a person, and I'm a selfish bastard, but I'll be your selfish bastard, if you'll have me."

You laugh, and then you start to cry. "I love you, too, Ben."

"Fuck yeah, you do."

He kisses you hard, pressing you against the door, and he whispers sweet nothings against your neck as he tugs your panties down, lifting you into his arms, and slipping inside you quick as a wink.

Every thrust is an apology, and every kiss is a promise. He sings his song against your mouth, swallowing your gasps with a steady I love you, over and over again.

You run one last story with the paper, covering his retirement front and center before any other publisher. And, on page eight, your engagement announcement becomes the second biggest story of the week.

Like what you read? You can Buy Me A Coffee ☕️ and, if you're feeling spicy, feel free to browse my masterlist for more dirty old men.

Russell Shaw

'Pat her on her butt'

Russell Shaw was definitely a butt man.

It was like your backside and his hand shared some kind of magnetic pull.

Every time he walked past, he’d give it a pat or a squeeze. Just a casual, claiming touch to let you know he was there. He did it so often that if he didn’t, you’d immediately assume he was mad at you.

Sometimes, you even caught yourself backing into his hand on purpose.

Your favourite, though, was when he’d open the door for you. Whether it was a room or the car, he'd give your ass a quick smack as you walked through.

It was routine. Reassuring. Ridiculous. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love every second of it.

Dean Winchester

'Hand on the wheel. Hand on my thigh'

Whenever he drove Baby, it was always the same: one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. It was automatic. The moment you slid into the passenger seat, he’d reach over and pull you along the bench toward him. You could never tell if it was possessiveness or tenderness. Maybe it was both.

His fingers would tap idly along to whatever cassette he put in the tape deck. Sometimes you’d place your hand on top of his, just to feel the rhythm. Other times, you’d find yourself staring at his hand, tracing the scars and veins with your eyes.

Either way, you never felt more at home than in the Impala, with Dean's hand on your thigh.

Beau Arlen

'I want to hold your hand'

The two of you sat in his office, each on opposite sides of the desk, mirroring one another. Both hunched over case files, lost in thought. He was hunting the missing link, while you jotted down notes.

Your arm was stretched across the desk, palm up beside him. Without looking, Beau reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. He started tracing the lines of your hand—slow, deliberate patterns, the tip of his finger following the curve of your lifeline.

He’d told you once it helped him focus. So every now and then, you gave him your hand.

He got clarity.

You got him.

Soldier Boy

'Hands they never sleep'

At 2 am, you felt the bed dip next to you.

After coming home from a last minute mission, Ben was joining you in bed.

He was fresh from a shower, his skin still warm from the hot water. You felt his arm wrap around your waist, gently pulling you back into his chest.

Ben nuzzled his nose into your neck. His body relaxing as he took in the familiar scent of your shampoo.

Like every night, his hand crept up your shirt to your chest. He always fell asleep cupping one of your breasts. You told yourself it was a comfort thing so he could feel the rise and fall of your chest. It was most likely because he missed them.

He missed you.

Mark Meachum

'Her hips and waist belong to me'

With a pen in your mouth, you stared at the case board in Nathan's office. You would study the board for hours hoping something would jump out at you.

"Take a break," he murmured, his beard brushing your cheek as he whispered in your ear. You didn't even hear him come in, you were too focused.

His hands settled on your hips, where they usually did. A light touch but it grounded you both. He guided your body backwards so it rested against his front. A shiver ran down your spine as his thumb traced slow, lazy circles over the curve of your hip.

You nodded, the tension in your shoulders melting just a little. He was right - you needed the break.

His hand slid up to your waist as you turned into him, guiding your out the office into the fresh air.

Boaz Priestly

'Just the little touches leave small tingles down my spine'

There wasn’t much room behind the counter at the Beach City Grill. The four of you were practically on top of each other during a shift. At some point, you’d all stopped saying sorry or excuse me - accidentally bumping into each other was just part of the job.

Except Priestly. With you, he did it on purpose.

A playful poke in your side to let you know he was behind you. A tap on your butt when the next order was ready. A quick kiss on your cheek when you handed him the ticket. He always found a way to touch you - light, casual, but full of intention.

He’d been waiting for a girl like you. Someone to dote on, to tease, to shower with affection and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment.

Once you had everything you needed, you made it back to the bunker before the boys had gotten back from stocking up on the ‘hunting essentials’. Sometimes you wondered if it was just an excuse for Dean to go look at guns and knives. But you liked having the bunker to yourself for a change. You put everything away, deciding to spend the rest of the day pampering yourself. The boys were sure to find a hunt soon, and you always tried to take advantage of being here at the home base when you could. 

***

You had to set an alarm for this, so it better work out, you thought to yourself. 

You made your way to the kitchen, dressed in a low cut tank top and some shorts. You looked the recipe up on your phone again before scrounging around for the ingredients you bought yesterday. This should be easier than trying to figure out how to make an entire pie from scratch. 

You start cleaning spinach, measuring greek yogurt, and stuffing everything into the blender. At the last minute you remember to hold the lid down before starting the blender, god, that would be embarrassing to have Sam walk into. Once that was blended, you added some pineapple, a banana, and some apple juice, turning it on to blend again. It looked like a green mess, but hopefully it tasted better than it looked.

“What are you making?” Sam asks, walking in, dressed in a t-shirt and running shorts. 

You turn towards him, eyes perusing the way the shirt pulls against the muscles of his chest. “What did you say?”  

Leaning over you to turn the blender off, he repeats himself, chuckling. “ What are you doing this early? You usually sleep in.”

“Just trying to be healthier. I found a recipe for a smoothie that doesn’t sound completely disgusting. Wanna try it?” You have to crank your neck back to look up at him, giving him a good look at your cleavage, especially since he likes to pretend he doesn’t look.

Just as you guessed, his eyes darted down and immediately across the room. Watching the slight flush breaking out on his cheeks, you grin wickedly. “Well?”

“Yeah. Sure, I’ll give it a go before I head out. What’s in it?” He asks, leaning against the counter beside you.

You list off the ingredients that are spread across the countertop, as you grab two glasses.

He hums in approval. “What brought on this sudden desire to be healthier?” 

“I’m not getting any younger, Sam. I’ve got to take care of myself. Besides, you seem to be in a better mood after you run.” You tease, poking his arm.

“I’m always in a good mood. You must be confusing me for my brother.”

Shaking your head, you turn to pour the smoothie into a glass for him. Handing it to him, you step closer, the space between you both shrinking to less than appropriate for just friends, “Be honest. Tell me if it is good or absolute shit. It won’t hurt my feelings at all.”

Grinning, he lifts the glass to take a drink. His shirt lifts, showing a band of skin on his abdomen, and your eyes widen. You reach out, fingers skimming along his side.

He gasps, nearly spilling the drink. 

“Sorry! Sorry.” You say, stepping back, as you jerk your hand back. 

Coughing he sets the glass down. “No. It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting — .”

He has a bit of the smoothie dripping down his chin. “You have some on your face.” You interrupt, stepping back in his space. And as he lifts his hand to wipe it away, you murmur, “Let me.”

You lift up to your tip toes, one hand reaching up to guide his face closer to yours. The air thickens around the two of you, as your eyes look between his and his lips. You can barely see the green of his eyes, as his pupils widened, lips parted invitingly. 

Your breath quickens as you draw him closer, heart beating faster in your chest. He starts to feel a tingling in his chest, heat rising to his skin, and just when he thinks you are about to kiss him, the finger of your other hand comes up, running along his bottom lip, catching the bit of spilled smoothie. 

You let him go, sinking back to your heels. You dip your finger into your mouth, eyes locked on his, as your tongue swirls around, sucking softly. You moan softly, eyes closing just for a moment before pulling your finger out. 

“Delicious.” Your voice comes out low, husky, as you turn to leave, squeezing his bicep.

“Have a good run, Sam!” You say brightly before flouncing out of the room. He was so caught off guard he didn’t realize you didn’t even bother to take your glass with you. He was staring after the door where you had left, willing his body to calm down and try to convince himself not to follow you.

“Little vixen.” He mutters to himself, shaking his head. This was going to be harder than he thought. Speaking of hard. He looks down, sighing. 

Dean walks into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee machine, not uttering a word to Sam. By the time Dean acknowledges him, after he was pouring his cup of coffee, Sam’s semi had luckily softened.

“You plan on cleaning your mess up?” Dean asks grumpily, pointing at the counter.

Sam huffed out a laugh. “Uh. Yeah, not my mess. But I’ll take care of it.”

“What do you mean, not your mess? It’s a smoothie. You are the only one who drinks those god forsaken drinks. Liquefied sadness, if you ask me.”

“Actually, that little tease of a friend we have made me one. Said she was going to start being healthier.”

“Bullshit.” Dean said into his mug. “Her door is shut, she hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet.” The disbelief was clear across his face.

Sam holds up his hands. “I’m not lying. She made a smoothie, then… you know what? Never mind. I’m going to go on my run. I’ll clean this up when I get back, okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Dean mumbles, heading back to his room.

Sam watched his brother walk off before shaking his head, and heading outside for his morning run.

Thanks for reading! 😊

you managed to find a decently good hiding spot before they finished counting. under your bed – classic yet painful obvious.

you were honestly hoping that they weren’t gonna start with the obvious hiding spots, you know, the whole reverse psychology thing.

you laid flat on your stomach under your bed, hand over your mouth so that your breathing wasn’t the thing that gave you away, although you fear that wasn’t what’s the give away, your heart rang in your ears, feeling like it was away to jump out your chest.

was it because of running? sure. but fear and arousal had a play in it too.

“come out come out wherever you are” you heard sam’s taunting voice echo through the hallway, he was close. of course he was, you wouldn’t be surprised if he cheated.

the question now is, did they split up or team up? guess it’s for you to find out.

your bedroom door swung open with a big thud as sam’s biker boots kicked it open, you let out an involuntary gasp from the sudden scare.

unluckily for you – sammy heard. a smirk grew behind his mask.

you heard his footsteps, heavy and deliberately slow, making your heart beat increase even more. you seriously thought it was that loud that everyone could hear it.

the knife he was holding, scrapped against the concrete wall of your room, making you aware of it’s presence.

you watched as the pair of boots stepped closer to the bed, you knew you were fucked, but still, you had the fight in you.

like sam and dean wanted, don’t make it easy for them to catch you.

and you weren’t planning on it.

the big black boots stopped at the foot of the bed, a sudden silence falling in the room. you covered your mouth to mute yourself, but sam could already smell the strong feminine perfume that gave you away.

“thought we all agreed to make this game interesting, but you’re just making it too damn easy for us” sam chuckled in a sinister way before you suddenly felt both your ankles being grabbed by big strong hands, then got pulled out from under the bed, you couldn’t help but let out a scream trying to grab onto the bed leg but sam was too fast.

you thrashed around before turning onto your back to face him, the ghostface mask looking much more scarier in the dull red light than you expected.

your instincts kicked in and so did your legs, landing a couple of shots to his abdomen, which made sam stumble back into your desk, pens and papers falling to the floor, you gave yourself just enough time to get up and bolt out the door.

as you ran through one of the long hallways of the bunker, you noticed just how loud of a noise your shoes were making, which gave you a disadvantage.

so you stopped for a second, throwing them off your feet, along with your socks, leaving you completely barefoot. the cold concrete floor waking up a new sensation in you.

you heard sam’s heavy footsteps getting closer, very quickly. he was running, which meant you had a better chance at hiding than outrunning him. without much thought you started running the opposite direction from where your room was.

as you were away to turn left on the corner, you bumped into dean’s tall and broad figure, ghostface mask, black cloak and a knife in his hand. it’s shouldn’t be turning you on, but by god it did.

it didn’t take even a second for him to grab a hold of you, his deep chuckle vibrating against your back.

“come on now little one. we don’t wanna hurt you” dean cooed into your ear.

you squirmed around in his tight grasp, grunting softly when he tightened his grip. your brain told you to bite – so you did.

after all you weren’t supposed to make it easy for them, remember?

you sank your teeth into his arm, which made him drop his knife and shout in pain. “auh you bitch!” dean growled, his grip loosening for a split second which you used to your advantage.

slipping yourself loose and sprinting down the hallway as he was too occupied cussing under his breath.

sam caught up to dean, “what happened?”

“the little brat bit me” dean massaged his arm.

sam chuckled out. “clever little minx”

“shut up and get her” dean barked, then both the predators started chasing you, the prey, down the hallway.

your footsteps were much quieter now without shoes but sadly it didn’t help with running any faster. you could feel them both catching up to you and you panicked.

running into the kitchen which didn’t exactly have any good hiding spots, only an entrance and an exit door.

you were out of breath, your heart felt like it was away to stop any minute and to your misfortune, sam stood at the entrance door and dean blocked the exit door.

leaving you completely cornered, like a little bunny that’s hunted by big hungry wolves. both of them wearing masks that covered their faces, but you could feel their smirks radiating from beneath.

“give it up sweetheart, you’re cornered. you have nowhere to run-“ sam spoke, satisfaction in his low voice.

“-nowhere to hide.” dean added.

your legs went weak, cotton like.

you leaned against the sink, trying to keep them both at the same distance. your brain was going through all the possibilities of running away, fighting even.

you looked around to notice a clean pan that was on the drying rack, you had a lightbulb moment.

you grabbed the pan and planned on using it against them as a weapon, will it work? you didn’t know, but you had to try.

“and what are you gonna do with that? fry some eggs?” dean mocked, stepping closer to you, with that slow predatory step.

sam followed his older brother’s actions, doing the same.

you felt as if like the walls were closing in on you, your eyes jumping from one winchester to another. “get back!” you warned, swinging the pan back and forth.

fortunately for you, you landed a good hit on sam. the pan making a massive bang sound. sam let out a groan and curled up a bit, holding his abdomen. “i’ve had it up to here with you, you little-!”

you threw the pan at dean and took the gamble, pushing past sam’s broad body, aiming for the entrance door that he was blocking literally a second ago.

“not so fast, little mouse” dean growled from behind you, gripping you by your hair and pulling you back.

you let out a yelp, falling onto your ass. “n-no!!” your body tried to fight him, tried to crawl away but the grip on your hair was harsh, his fingers deep in your curls, he wasn’t afraid to yank them.

dean chuckled lowly, waiting for sam to straighten out and join his side, while you were struggling like a mouse caught in a glue trap.

dean gave sam a quick head tilt, a silent signal to follow him.

dean walked out the kitchen first, his fingers never leaving your hair, he dragged you by your hair, manhandling you like a goddamn savage.

you let out soft whines, trying to hold onto his wrist so it wouldn’t hurt so much. sam followed behind, keeping an eye on you, giving you unlikely chances of getting away now.

the three of you eventually reached your bedroom door, but once the three of you stepped afoot inside, you were fucked.

literally and figuratively.

“it’s game over sweetheart, no more running” dean explained.

“or you will have extra consequences” sam added.

and with that, dean dragged you inside and sam locked the door behind.

you were locked in one room with these two scary and heartless hunters. with sam having no soul and dean being a demon, their level of empathy was basically the same – which was zero. nil. nada. absolutely none whatsoever.

you crawled backwards as both of them stood above you, your back hitting the foot of the bed. you breathing uneven, you did not know what to expect from them now, and that made you feel very uneasy.

both sam and dean looked down at you with their masks still on, knives still in their hands. you didn’t know whether to get wet or pee yourself right there on the spot.

“what do you think we should do with her first sammy?” dean asked his younger brother.

sam chuckled at the idea that popped into his head, “i think her face needs a bit of color, don’t you? thinking.. white” dean smirked at his brothers answer, you on the other hand did not understand the cryptic tone.

“that’s a perfect idea, little brother” dean commented, already starting to unbuckle his belt.

your puppy eyes went wide in shock, seeing both of them unbuckling their leather belts. something deep inside you was screaming, butterflies erupting in your tummy.

the sound of the metal clinking was enough to make you wet.

“on your knees” sam ordered, but you were heavily hesitating. a little scared even.

“he said, on your knees. slut” dean barked as he noticed you not listening to his brother.

you weren’t going to lie, his tone made you jump, lowkey afraid. you got on your knees, not wanting them to get mad or anything, punishment from them would be diabolical, to say the least.

“there we go, that wasn’t so hard to do now was it? or is our little cum guzzler simply deaf?” dean cooed, taking out his already hard cock out his black cargo pants and pumping himself a couple times in front of your face, a juicy vein decorating his shaft.

you looked sam’s way, noticing him pulling out his cock too, his cock longer but not as thick as his brother’s.

both equally pretty and yummy looking though.

“from what i recall you’re a big fan of double cream and all that, so let’s see how well you can handle this type” sam spoke cockily, stroking himself off in front of your face.

both men stood inches away from you, you knelt in front of them, your face at their crotch level so you got to see all the details. from their flushed tips and the pulsing veins to their pearly precum dripping down their piss slits.

you felt nothing short of a whore, a sex toy of theirs to play with as they wish. it felt demeaning, embarrassing, degrading, humiliating – but at the same time you could not help but get turned on by watching those two huge guys jerking off in front of you like that.

both sam and dean’s breathing got heavier, your eyes blown out as you switched your stare from one cock to another, and all you could do is just kneel there on your knees with puppy eyes.

“open your mouth” dean hissed through gritted teeth.

your eyes looked up at him, that ghostface mask staring back at you. you didn’t dare to disobey dean, his short temper scared you and you wouldn’t want him to throat fuck you just to prove a point, so you opened your mouth nice and wide.

and just like that he stuck the tip of his cock in your mouth, “suck.” he ordered, leaving no space for ‘but’s.

you flicked your tongue over his tip before taking more of him in your mouth, humming a soft moan that sent vibrations down his spine.

you looked up at him, with your mouth full of his cock, dean couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at the sultry view in front of him.

his hand went into your hair, guiding your head up and down his cock before forcefully pulling you away, your mouth making a pop sound, a string of saliva joining at the corner of your mouth and his cock.

you looked at him with lustful puppy eyes, slightly embarrassed at how much this was turning you on.

sam tapped your cheek with his cock, “my turn, open up.”

your gaze shifted to the younger winchester, opening your mouth to let his cock slide into your mouth. “so fuckin eager” he chuckled lowly.

meanwhile dean continued jerking himself off watching his brother make you take his inches. “i know right? told you she’s a cumslut” dean grunted, feeling himself getting closer, but his hand kept a steady pace.

sam’s hand held the back of your head, pushing your head down making you gag on his cock, tears welled up in your eyes and drool dripped down your chin.

“she may be a cumslut but she definitely gags like a fucking beginner” sam laughed, mockery in his voice as his hips moved forwards, you tried to breathe through your nose but couldn’t help letting out a choked whimper.

sam suddenly pulled out, feeling himself on the edge.

both the brothers pumped themselves quicker, their cocks practically touching your face.

“tongue out.” dean ordered, you could hear both of them softly panting under their masks.

you stuck your tongue out, your eyes dark and blown out, darting from one cock to the other, ready to taste them.

one after another, their cocks shot out hot sticky semen, covering your pretty little face. sam and dean pumped themselves dry onto your face, admiring the filthy view in front of them – your lips, tongue, cheeks and even your forehead covered with their dna.

you managed to lick the cum off your lips before the rest dripped down your face and neck.

“bet that was better than those oreos you eat” dean chuckled, his cock still hard in his hand.

so was sam’s.

of course this wasn’t the end of it – you would be stupid to think that.

both of them took their masks off, having enough of wearing it. both their hair messy in their own unique ways. dean pushed a hand through his hair.

“aww look at those tear stains, such a poor little thing~ drooling, covered in cum” sam gently petted your head, smiling softly with his signature puppy stare.

you were gullible enough to believe he was gonna be gentle now, but to your surprise he grabbed you by your hair and lifted you up like you were just a toy.

“up up up.” his voice filled with faux friendliness, you had no choice but to get up from your knees with the way he was pulling on your hair.

“on the bed, all fours. we are not finished with you yet” sam commanded, basically throwing you onto your own bed, and standing in front of you with his cock still up right, in front of your face.

dean walked over to the back of you, his hands already on your ass, strong fingers tearing your fishnets open at the crotch and ripping your panties with it. you gasped at dean’s strength, or more like that fact he didn’t even need to use much of it.

your pussy now fully exposed, glistening and dripping from how aroused you were. dean let out a low wolf whistle, “well i’ll be damned, you’re fuckin dripping wet… pathetic little thing is clearly enjoying herself” he let out a gravelly chuckle, his thumb sliding up and down your slick slit, making you squirm under his touch.

“so wet” dean chuckled, amused at just how wet you actually were already.

your mouth agape, a soft moan haunting your lips. your back arched slightly, seeking more of the feeling, but dean pulled away in an instant when he noticed you doing so, i mean what do you expect from a mean fucker like him?

you looked up at sam, your eyes meeting his dark, empathy lacking ones. his stiff cock at your eye level, “open up.” sam commanded, tapping the tip of his cock on your lips.

dean wasted no time whatsoever and pushed his cock inside you, inch by inch. his thick cock sliding in with ease and stretching you out, making you open your mouth and let out a strangled moan.

sam took that opportunity and shoved his cock half way down your throat, making you choke on him as he without a second thought started thrusting in and out your mouth, holding you by your hair, his grip harsh. “that’s a girl~“ he faux praised, the mocking tone never leaving him.

dean’s big calloused hands gripped your asscheeks and started thrusting his length in and out, in and out. your pussy making squelching sounds every time he pushed his cock deep inside you, filling you up to the brim.

“so full of cock, but i can feel just how much you’re into it you little freak, clenching that pussy tightly around my cock- you can’t fool us sweetheart” dean chuckled, increasing the speed of his hips, pulling out nearly all the way before slamming back in, balls deep, impaling you on both the cocks.

your pussy did indeed clench around him, subliminally wanting to milk him dry, for him to empty himself inside you. “jesus fuckin christ, what a tight little thing you are, gotta start stretching you out more often.” dean grunted in between thrusts.

both the winchester’s worked on you from both ends, it was almost overwhelming so you let them use you the way they wanted. you let out muffled moans as the two of them sped up their movements, chasing their highs.

a creamy ring formed around the base of dean’s cock, all thanks to you shamefully being into this, into being used and stuffed by them both.

both sam and dean let out grunts and strangled growls as they got close, unconsciously competing with each other to see who gets to fill you up with their seed first.

the way your throat clenched as you gagged continuously on sam’s big cock, stimulated his tip. sam threw his head back, letting out a moan as his cock spewed out thick ropes of white.

your mouth flooded with drool and his cum, tears and cum dripping down your face as he pulled out his cock.

“swallow.” sam growled, his fingers still deep in your hair, you wouldn’t dare to do other wise, swallowing his seed right in front of him and sticking your tongue out for proof.

“very good.” his other hand tapped your cheek harshly in a degrading manner.

dean on the other hand was hanging on by a thread, your pussy eagerly swallowing his cock each time he pushed deep inside you, his tip kissing your cervix.

he gave you a couple sudden spanks on the ass before finally giving you his seed, shooting his hot cum deep in your womb.

as he pulled out slowly, his pearly white cum dripped out your hole, down your thighs and onto your bedsheets.

“now that’s what i call double-stuffed, ain’t that right sammy?” dean laughed, collecting some of his cum onto his finger and pushing it back inside you, making you cry out a moan.

“just how she likes it.” sam added, smirking down at you, brushing his thumb against your plump bottom lip.

for a long second, the three of you try to catch your breaths.

until sam lifted his head up, looking at his older brother. “switch?” sam asked casually.

“now that’s what i’m talkin ‘bout” dean chuckled, rubbing his hands together before getting off the bed and switching sides with sam.

this was going to be a very long and messy night.

but a deal is a deal – you fought well during the twisted kids game of hide and seek, but in the end you lost.

and losers take their punishment like champs.

thank you so much for reading it literally means the world to me! believe it or not, this piece of writing took me a couple months to finalise so i am so happy yall can finally see it, i am defo proud of this baby!

taglist : @jensino @deansposessive @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @littleewe @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @rafeskitty @bruisedfig @digitalfig @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @bluemerakis @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes2 @miss-marmalade @pinksatinpanties @multiversefanfics @cupidzbunny @heartrendercastiel @sunnyteume @mrsanakinwinchesterpoldark @that-stanford-girlie @pwin098 @tendertulip @honeyyxxbee @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @lunaleah @idontwannabehere78 @mostlymarvelgirl @bad-wolf1991 @halsteadwichester @star-yawnznn @ladykitana90 @cantchooseafav @castielsonlyangel @my-stories-vault @wwvvii @ohangeleyes @smwncstr @doubledizzy22 @hallecarey1 @g0thamgirl @littlelamy

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“Hey princess, you know playing hard to get only makes me want you more.” He said with a deep grin on his face. It was clear his high could get to him, considering the copious amount of weed he had already smoked through. You didn't mind the weed, but the only thing that ruined your high was him sitting beside you. Opening your laptop, you started to try and do your own work.

While you didn’t like Soldier Boy, you couldn't deny that he was very attractive. His dick-swinging, cocky attitude had to come from somewhere. He knew he was hot and you hated it. The first time you met him you had to act like you weren't completely ogling him through the body cams Butcher and crew had on them after breaking into the Russian lab. He was shown in all his glory, with his beard grown and body still in perfect shape. Before you could continue watching, the cameras seemed to go off after he let out that nuclear blast from his chest. Being around him was an internal battle everyday, trying to not look him directly in the face to avoid having to confront your confusing feelings towards him. 

But even that wasn’t enough.

While you were a bit of a homebody and preferred to wear comfortable clothes, you did like to dress up once in a while. And when Soldier Boy saw you in a mini-skirt for the first time, his perverted comments started. “Woah where have you been hiding?” “Is that what women are wearing nowadays? You look like a hooker. Not that I’m complaining” 

The rational part of you hated being objectified under his gaze, and the other part rubbed your thighs together every time he said something with his deep baritone voice. Everytime he spoke, its deepness sent a shiver down your spine. 

Your current predicament, however, did not allow you to avoid his presence. With every other room having horrible connection, that only left the room that Soldier Boy currently occupied. 

“You know, you would look way prettier if you got rid of those glasses.” Your eyebrow twitched in anger. “I actually need these glasses. Not everyone got a dose of compound V to allow them perfect vision for the rest of their lives” You tried turning away from him, only having limited space as his manspreading took up half the tiny couch you were situated on. “Also could you PLEASE close your legs? I’m sure you don't need that much space for what's in between your legs.” You huffed out, clearly frustrated with his macho manspread he had used to take up space on the couch.

“How about you stop acting like a fucking brat.” He grumbled. Ben was sick and tired of your attitude. Your lingering stares on his face followed by quick turns away. Always coming out in shabby outfits after giving him a taste of what you looked like underneath all that fabric. You were a tease, and he was at his limit. Using his strength he manhandled you right over his thigh, computer thrown onto the ground.

“What are you-” Smack!

Ben’s hand landed straight onto your behind, leaving a stinging sensation. “If you want to act like a brat, I’m going to treat you like one. If I have to smack some manners into you I will.”

You squirm on his lap but can’t seem to get out of his supe-enhanced strength as he holds you down with one palm on your back. Smack! Another hit lands

“Stay fucking still. I want to hear you count each time I hit this pretty little ass. If I can’t hear you we start from 0, got it?” You nodded, with tears already threatening to spill from the previous two hits. 

As his hand repeatedly came down onto your tender behind, you managed to whimper out each count until you reached the number 10. Tears streaming down your face, your glasses knocked off from the force of his hits. You looked up to Ben as his hand wiped away the tears. The hand which was holding you down for punishment, now tenderly cradling your cheek.

“Now ain’t that a beautiful sight, you gonna be good for me now?” You nodded, eager to please him or save yourself from further punishment. You weren’t sure. His hands moved to slip down your shorts, cradling your ass in his palm. You felt him rub his hand against your ass, feeling you through your soaked panties.

“You actually got wet from this? You kinky slut.” He grinned at the effect he had on you. Ben knew he turned you on no matter how much you acted like you hated him. Lifting you again he set you to straddle his thigh. You stay still waiting for his next instruction, not wanting to anger him with your insubordination. 

“See! I was right you look way fucking better without those glasses, and much hotter when your looking at me with those fuck-me eyes.” Ben was brimming with confidence and pride, disciplining you seemed to stroke his ego in a special way. Using his hands, he guided your hips to start grinding on his thigh. The friction between his thigh and your panties rubbing against your clit was heaven. The more you rubbed the closer you got. Hiding your face in his shoulders while gripping his chest tightly, he knew you were getting close. Ben started to bounce his thigh and wrangled you out of hiding in his neck.

“No hiding, I want to see your face when I make you cum.” As the grinding continued, you couldn’t hold back the whimpers which were heavenly to Ben’s ears. After so long he finally got to hear your voice in a pleasant way instead of bitching at him to clean up the common space. God he loved putting you into your place, which as you would find out is beneath him while he fucks the brains out of you.

Reaching your climax, you felt your cum leak onto Ben’s thigh. Breathing unsteady, you tried to catch yourself from falling but Ben already had that covered. He laid you down onto the couch, slipping off your panties in the process while he undressed as well. Taking off his shirt, you saw all the natural muscle his body had retained even after all those years of experimentation. Skin still perfect and body perfectly ripped. Exactly how it looked on the cameras. Even better up close. As his shorts came down, you saw the size of the monster he kept in his pants. There was a good reason why women kept ‘falling’ straight into his bed, and you just saw it. 

Your legs hooked around his hips, his tip touching your entrance as he slowly slid into you. The way he filled you up made your legs tighten around him and your toes curl. 

“Oh my- nghh” You heard his chuckle reverberate through both of your bodies. 

“I just put it in and you're already cockdrunk. What a Grade-A slut.” You didn't argue back, you were too busy trying to get used to the size of his dick splitting you apart from within.  Placing your arms onto his back, you slowly tried to roll your hips against him. Desperate for some friction that he wasn't giving you.

“Tsk tsk tsk, I'm not giving you anything until I hear you beg for it” He chided your weak attempt to fuck yourself on him. 

“Soldier Boy, can you please just move?” You whined. He gave you a slow roll but stopped again.

“Call me Ben, and I want to hear you beg properly.” Ben growled, he felt you clenched on his dick in response to his commands. While you would never admit it willingly, you loved letting him boss you around and this was no exception.

“Ben can you please fuck me hard now- eep!” As soon as you completed your sentence he started thrusting in and out, unable to hold himself back any longer. Drawing himself back out, he sank back in slowly before resuming his movements, coaxing the most erotic sounds out of your mouth.

“F-fuck your tight. We gotta work on breaking in your pussy properly.” You whimpered. This was already too much for you, unsure of how much more you could hold on. He continued punishing your hole with his cock, watching it go in and out covered in both of your fluids. 

Your moans filled up the room, unable to hide any of your sounds as you were too focused on the man currently on top of you. All your little sounds and moans were heavenly to Ben's ears.

“That's it baby, just let me fuck all your thoughts out.” His balls smacked against your ass while you let him fuck you stupid, a little drop of drool escaping your open mouth. Holding your jaw tight, he kept it open as he spit straight into your mouth. You waited as he watched you hold his spit obediently.

“Good girl. Swallow.” You closed your mouth and swallowed it down as he instructed. Ben nodded as a sign of his approval as he moved his hand down to your throat, applying steady pressure and restricting your airflow. 

Your breaths got shorter as he continued to choke you. You feel the pleasure that has been building up as you start to reach its peak. You weren't sure if it was the lack of air or just the feeling of his hand around your throat, but at that point you didn't care. Locking your legs together behind him, you pushed him in deeper as you squirted onto his dick. Your cum, now all over his dick and his abs. 

Feeling you clench intensely around his dick, Ben's thrusts seemed to stutter a bit but continued its relentless abuse. His tip continually bullying your cervix, Ben was sure you weren't going to be walking tomorrow. 

“Did you just squirt on me? Fuck that was hot, I'm making sure you do that again”  You whined in response, shaking your head. You were already overstimulated from cumming twice and were sure you weren't able to give him anymore.

“You're so fucking cute. But nobody says no to me.” He moved his hand down to your clit. Rubbing it while his dick abused your cunt, hitting all the right spots inside of you. It was too much, you were too sensitive and couldn't hold yourself from cumming a third time. Your intense orgasm seemed to pull Ben over there edge as well, causing him to release deep inside you. 

“I can't hold it back anymore so fucking take it.” He grunted, painting your walls white with his cum while continuing to fucking it into you. Eventually he began to slow down and slowly pulled himself out.

Ben watched as your hold winked at him after he pulled out, leaking his cum that he shot into you. Swiping up his cum from your thighs, he pushed it back into your hole with two fingers, making sure it didn't escape. You whimpered at the feeling but was too weak to fight it. 

As he sat back up, he started smoking the joint he previously abandoned. You felt your body being shifted up and onto his lap. You curled up against him and buried your head into his neck, too exhausted and seeked his touch after such an intense session. 

“Next time keep the glasses on. I want to see it covered in my cum.”

-

A/N: He's kinda mean in this one but he's soldier boy so....