vin 🗡️

Summary: You are stuck at your dad’s pool party after cleaning all day, Soldier boy - your dad’s hot best friend can’t keep his eyes off you in your white bikini.

৻ꪆ Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, smut, large age gap, virginity loss, rough sex, finger sucking, forbidden sex, alcohol mentioned, risk of getting caught.

wc: 3.5k

The backyard pavement was warm against your thighs as you sat at the edge of the pool, toes lazily dragging through the water. The late afternoon sun still burned hot overhead, but it did nothing to improve your mood.

“Hey, go tell your aunt and uncle hi,” your dad called, nodding toward the group clustered near the grill.

You sighed heavily, pushing yourself up. You’d been in a bad mood all evening, your dad had made you clean the entire house top to bottom because his “friends” were coming over. Every bathroom, every countertop, every damn floor. All for a stupid pool party. But at least Ben would be there.

Ben. Your dad’s closest friend for as long as you could remember. You’d grown up around him, trailing after the two of them like a shadow. He was practically an uncle to you.

But God, was he cute.

Once you’d said your polite hellos to your aunts and uncles (smiling through the small talk while your mood simmered), your dad waved you over again. “Go check the mail, will you? Should be here by now.”

You slipped on your sandals and skipped toward the front yard, grateful for any excuse to get away from the noise for a minute. You adjusted your white babydoll top, tugging it into place, then rolled the waistband of your jean shorts once more so they sat even higher on your thighs. The second you reached the front yard, a familiar truck rumbled up the driveway.

Your stomach flipped.

Soldier Boy hopped out of the driver’s side, all broad shoulders and cocky posture. He looked unfairly good, black t-shirt stretched tight across his chest, jeans slung low.

You gulped, heart picking up speed, and lifted a hand to shield your eyes from the sun.

“Hey, Ben,” you called, trying to sound casual.

He slammed the truck door with a grunt, the sound sharp in the quiet front yard. His eyes flicked up and immediately dragged down your body, taking in the tiny white top and the shortened jean shorts, before settling on your face.

“Hey, kid.” His voice was rough, low, the same gruff tone you’d heard since you were little. But this time it felt different. He didn’t move right away, just stood there staring a beat too long. “The fuck you wearing?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. “It’s a pool party,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

Ben huffed a laugh, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. He stepped closer, boots crunching on the gravel, until he was towering over you. Up close he smelled like leather seats, faint cigar smoke, and something warm and masculine that made your pulse stutter.

He reached out and tugged lightly at the hem of your babydoll top, straightening it with a gentleness that didn’t match the asshole smirk on his face. His knuckles brushed just below your ribs. “You’ve been cleaning all day, right? Your dad mentioned it. Poor thing.”

The same man who could level buildings without blinking still noticed when you were in a shit mood.

“Yeah, well, I’m over it,” you muttered, glancing up at him. 

Then Ben straightened up, clearing his throat. “C’mon, kid. Before your daddy starts to worry,”

He started walking toward the backyard, but not before his hand brushed the small of your back, light, lingering, and definitely not uncle-like.

You followed Ben toward the backyard, cheeks still burning from that lingering touch on your lower back. The party noise hit you again, laughter, music, the splash of water.

“Oh hey Ben!” your dad called out, waving him over with a big grin.

Ben nodded, he walked over to clap hands with your dad like they’d just seen each other yesterday instead of months ago. You hung back, sighing as you scanned the yard. Your cousins were running around screaming, way too young to talk to. Your aunts and uncles were clustered in lawn chairs, gossiping about things you couldn’t care less about. No one here was your age. It sucked.

You wanted nothing more than to disappear upstairs, crawl into bed, and doomscroll on your phone until your eyes hurt. But no, your stupid dad had taken it earlier “so you’d be social.”

“Kid, go swim with your cousins,” your dad suddenly yelled across the yard, giving you a pointed glare before taking a long sip of his beer.

You groaned loudly. “I don’t wanna change, and my swimsuit’s in the house,” you argued, giving him your best sad-puppy look.

Your dad wasn’t having it. “Go. Now.” He pointed firmly toward the house.

You let out a frustrated huff, spinning on your heels and storming off across the grass. You could feel eyes on you, probably half the party, but the only gaze that actually made your skin prickle was Ben’s. You didn’t turn around to check, but you swore you felt it burning into your back.

The cool air inside the house was a relief after the sticky heat. You slammed the back door a little harder than necessary and headed upstairs toward your room, muttering under your breath the whole way. Stupid party. Stupid chores. Stupid– 

“You throw that door any harder and it’s gonna come off the hinges.”

You froze halfway up the stairs. Ben’s voice stopped you cold. He’d followed you inside. Of course he had.

He leaned against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you. But his eyes weren’t mocking. Not entirely.

“Bad mood still going strong, huh?” he asked, tilting his head. “Your dad’s just trying to get you out there.”

You turned to face him fully, “I don’t want to swim with a bunch of little kids. I just wanted to stay on my phone and be left alone. But apparently that’s a crime.”

Ben pushed off the wall and slowly climbed a couple steps, stopping just below you so you were almost eye-level. He was close again. Too close. The scent of him filled the narrow stairwell.

“Poor little princess,” he murmured, voice dripping with a teasing tone. “You’ve been running around cleaning this place all day for your old man. Least he could do is cut you some slack.” His gaze dropped to your legs for a second before flicking back up. 

You swallowed, heart hammering. He was right there, practically an uncle, your dad’s best friend, and yet the way he was looking at you right now felt anything but familial.

“You gonna rat me out if I hide up here for a while?” you asked, half-joking.

He reached up and lightly flicked the strap of your babydoll top back into place, his fingers brushing your shoulder.

“Nah. I’ll cover for you… for a minute.” His voice dropped, “But you keep giving me that attitude? Might change my mind, sweetheart. I’ll have to drag you back out there myself.”

He lingered on the stairs, eyes locked on yours, the tension thick enough to taste. The distant sound of the party filtered through the walls, but right now it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the house.

You nodded quickly, heart still racing from the way Ben had been looking at you on the stairs. You turned and rushed back up the rest of the steps, gulping as you practically sprinted to your room.

Inside, you stripped fast and slipped into your white bikini, the one that matched your freshly painted nails. The top tied neatly behind your neck and the bottoms sat high on your hips. You threw your hair up into a messy ponytail, gave yourself one quick look in the mirror, and ran back downstairs before you could overthink it.

Thank God Ben was already back outside when you stepped into the yard again.

You sighed in relief, kicked off your sandals, and dipped your feet into the cool water at the edge of the pool. The chill felt good against your heated skin.

“Good, thank you,” your dad said, walking over and patting your back. “Sorry for being hard on you, hun.”

You smiled up at him, surprised by the apology. Then your eyes flicked over to Ben.

He was sitting in a lawn chair a few feet away, beer in hand, staring daggers at your dad. His jaw was tight, shoulders tense. When he caught you looking, his expression shifted, just slightly, but that intense gaze stayed on you now, slowly dragging down the white bikini and back up again.

You raised a brow. Your dad let out a long sigh and took another swig of his beer, relaxing back into his chair.

“Ben told me to be easier on you. He’s right,” your dad admitted with a small chuckle, completely oblivious to the way his best friend was still watching you. “Guess I’ve been riding you too hard today.”

You smiled softly and looked away, warmth blooming in your chest. Ben had actually said something to your dad for you? 

Before you could think too much about it, your little cousins came running up, giggling as they tugged at your messy ponytail and tried to climb onto your back.

“You’re so pretty!” one of them squealed, playing with the ends of your hair like you were their personal doll. “Come play with us!”

You laughed despite yourself, letting them pull you a little further into the shallow end. The water lapped around your thighs as you crouched down to their level, trying to entertain them. But you could still feel it, his stare.

Ben hadn’t stopped watching you.

Every time you bent over to pick one of the kids up or when the water made your bikini cling tighter, you caught him. He was leaned back in his chair pretending to listen to whatever your dad was saying, but his eyes kept cutting back to you. Dark. Hungry. A little pissed off, like he hated how much he was staring.

At one point your dad got up to grab more drinks, leaving Ben alone for a moment. He didn’t waste it.

He stood up slowly and strolled over to the edge of the pool, towering above you. The afternoon sun glowed behind him, making him look even bigger.

“White bikini, huh?” he muttered, voice low enough that only you could hear. “Matching the nails and everything. You trying to kill me today, kid?”

You glanced up at him, still holding one of your cousins on your hip. “Thought you said I should swim.”

“I said you should listen to your dad. Didn’t say you should come out here looking like a fucking dream and torture the rest of us.” He crouched down, closer to your level, eyes flicking to the cousins before returning to you. “You good now? Or still pissed?”

One of your cousins tried to splash him. Ben just raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, which made the kid giggle harder.

You bit your lip to hide a smile. “I’m… better. Thanks for talking to my dad.”

Ben grunted, looking away like it was nothing. “Yeah, well. Somebody had to. Can’t have you sulking around all night in that outfit.” He paused, then added quieter, almost reluctantly, “You look good, sweetheart. Real good.”

He straightened up before your dad could come back, but not before his fingers brushed the top of your messy ponytail, quick, almost gentle, like he couldn’t stop himself from touching you.

The tension between you two was getting harder to ignore with every passing minute.

As the sun began to dip lower, painting the sky in soft oranges and pinks, your cousins started getting sleepy and cranky. One by one, everyone began saying their goodbyes and heading out. The backyard slowly emptied until it was just the fading music, scattered cups, and some family left.

You sat on the edge of the pool again, towel wrapped low around your waist, eating a slice of cold watermelon while you watched the sunset. The juice dripped down your fingers as you tried to enjoy the quiet.

Ben had been sitting across the yard, pretending to listen while your dad chatted with your aunts and uncles. The second they headed toward the gate, he got up and walked over to you. Without a word, he dropped down beside you and draped a heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you in against his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey, kid,” he said with a long sigh, leaning back on his other hand.

“Hi,” you answered softly, taking another bite of watermelon.

“You have fun today?” He tilted his head, looking at you.

You nodded, still staring at the sunset instead of meeting his eyes. Your heart was beating too fast with him this close, his warm skin against your bare shoulder.

“Good,” he murmured, voice dropping low as he leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “I had fun lookin’ at you.”

You blushed hard, finally turning to face him. “Good view?” you giggled, setting the watermelon rind down and reaching up to wipe the sticky juice off your cheek.

Ben beat you to it.

His thumb brushed across your bottom lip and the corner of your mouth, slow and deliberate, wiping the juice away. His touch lingered a second longer than it needed to, the rough pad of his thumb dragging lightly over your soft skin. The way he was looking at you made heat pool low in your stomach.

You blushed even deeper and turned away, suddenly very interested in the sunset again.

Ben chuckled under his breath, but didn’t pull his arm off your shoulders. “I’m too drunk to drive home,” he grunted after a moment. “Gonna crash on your couch.”

You looked up at him and nodded. “Oh, okay.”

“Say bye to your family, then I’ll give you your phone,” your dad called out from across the yard.

You stood up with a sigh, letting the towel drop to the ground. The white bikini felt even smaller now with the way Ben’s eyes followed the movement. You gave quick hugs to the last of your family, smiling politely as they complimented how grown up you looked.

Your dad handed your phone back with a tired sigh. “Go to bed at a reasonable time. I’m gonna hit the hay, Ben.”

Ben nodded, cracking open another beer. “I’ll be in right behind ya. Gonna help clean up.”

Your dad clapped him on the shoulder gratefully and headed inside, the back door clicking shut behind him.

Now it was just you and Ben.

The backyard was quiet except for the low hum of the pool filter and the distant sound of crickets. Ben stood up slowly, towering over you again. His gaze traveled down your body, bikini still damp, skin glowing in the sunset, before flicking back to your face.

“Help me clean, huh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “That’s what I told him.” His voice was lower now, rougher. “But we both know I’ve got other plans tonight, sweetheart.”

His hand came up, fingers lightly tugging on your messy ponytail, tilting your head back just enough so you had to look at him. The tension that had been building all day was finally starting to snap.

“Still think I’m just your dad’s asshole friend?” he asked, thumb brushing your jaw. “Or are you finally catching up?”

“Kinda both,” you giggled, the words barely out before you leaned up and kissed him.

Ben froze for half a second like he hadn’t expected you to actually do it. Then a low, hungry sound rumbled in his chest and he kissed you back hard, his big hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place. His mouth was hot, demanding, tasting like beer and the sunset. The kiss quickly turned filthy, his tongue sliding against yours, claiming, while his other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled your barely-covered body flush against him.

“Fuck, kid,” he growled against your lips when you finally broke for air. “You sure you know what you’re starting?”

You nodded, breathing fast, lips already swollen. “I want it… I want you.”

That was all it took.

Ben kissed you again, deeper this time, walking you backward across the yard until your back hit the side of the house. One of his thick thighs pressed between your legs, and you whimpered into his mouth at the sudden pressure. His hand slid down, squeezing your ass possessively over the wet bikini bottoms.

“Inside. Now,” he muttered, nipping at your bottom lip. “Before I bend you over right here where your dad could walk out.”

He barely gave you time to think before he was guiding you through the back door, one arm still locked around your waist like he couldn’t stop touching you. The house was dark and quiet, your dad already upstairs and snoring. Ben didn’t bother turning on any lights. He pushed you into the downstairs bathroom, locking the door behind him with a click that sounded way too loud in the silence.

The second the lock turned he was on you again.

He lifted you onto the counter like you weighed nothing, stepping between your spread thighs. His mouth crashed back into yours while his hands roamed, squeezing your tits through the thin white bikini top, thumbs brushing over your hardening nipples until you moaned.

“Been thinking about this all fucking day,” he rasped, kissing down your neck, sucking lightly on your pulse point. “Watching you prance around in that tiny bikini, acting all innocent. You have any idea what you do to me?”

His hand slipped between your legs, rubbing you over the bikini bottoms. You were already soaked, and not just from the pool. Ben groaned when he felt it.

“Shit… you’re dripping for me, sweetheart.”

You whimpered, suddenly shy despite how badly you wanted this. “Ben… I’ve never… I’m still a virgin.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark but surprisingly soft for a second. “Yeah? You sure you want your first time to be with an old asshole like me?”

You nodded quickly, pulling him back in by his shirt. “I want you.”

“Fuck.” He kissed you slower this time, almost tender, then got that cocky smirk back. “I’ll take care of you. But I’m still gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

He tugged your bikini top down, freeing your breasts, and latched his mouth onto one nipple while his hand worked the other. You gasped, fingers threading through his hair. Then he pulled back, bringing two thick fingers to your lips.

“Open.”

You obeyed, taking them into your mouth. Ben’s eyes darkened as you sucked on them, tongue swirling around the digits the way you thought he might like. He groaned low.

“That’s it… good girl. Get them nice and wet.”

When he finally pulled them out, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his fingers, he pushed your bikini bottoms to the side and slowly slid one finger into you. You tensed at the stretch, but he kissed you through it, murmuring against your mouth.

“Relax, baby. Just breathe. I got you.”

He worked you open carefully, adding a second finger after a minute, curling them just right until your hips started rocking against his hand. The wet sounds echoed obscenely in the small bathroom. His thumb found your clit and rubbed tight circles, and you cried out, thighs shaking.

“Ben, fuck,”

“Yeah? Feel good?” He pumped his fingers faster, scissoring them gently. “Gonna make you come on my fingers first. Then I’m fucking you properly.”

You came hard a minute later, clenching around his fingers, moaning into his neck as he kissed your temple and whispered filthy praise.

He didn’t give you much time to recover. He shoved his shorts down, his thick, heavy cock springing free. You stared, a little nervous at the size, but so turned on it hurt.

Ben noticed. He stroked himself slowly, then lifted your chin.

“You can take it. I’ll go slow at first.”

He lined up and pushed in inch by inch, stretching you open. It burned, but the burn felt good mixed with the overwhelming fullness. Ben groaned deeply, forehead pressed to yours, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.

“Fuck… so tight. Such a good little virgin for me.”

Once he bottomed out he stayed still, kissing you softly until you started squirming, needing more. Then he started moving, deep, steady thrusts that gradually got rougher. Not too rough, but enough that the counter creaked beneath you and your moans filled the bathroom.

He fucked you like he’d been dying to all day: one hand in your messy ponytail, the other gripping your thigh, spreading you wider. Every thrust hit that perfect spot inside you until you were clawing at his back.

“Look at me while I fuck you,” he growled, voice strained.

You did, eyes locked on his as another orgasm crashed over you. Ben followed right after, burying himself deep and coming with a low, broken groan of your name.

He stayed inside you for a long moment after, both of you breathing hard. Then he kissed you again, slow and surprisingly sweet, before gently pulling out.

“Shit, kid…” He rested his forehead against yours, thumb stroking your cheek. “You okay?”

Summary: Your dad leaves to go on a business trip, leaving you with Beau Arlen, your dad's best friend. He was supposed to keep you safe, instead he ruined you for anyone else.

ᢉ𐭩 Warnings: MDNI, 18+, NSFW, large age gap, drunk sex, lots of praise and pet names, finger sucking, unprotected sex

wc: 3.6k

Your dad had mentioned he’d be gone for a week. That was fine, you’d handled a few days on your own before.

But this time was different.

“Beau’s gonna stay over for a bit, alright?” he said, eyes glued to the football game on the TV, barely glancing your way.

You stopped in the middle of the living room. “Wait—what? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, hun.” He took a long swig of his beer. “No arguments.”

“Come on, Dad, I’m eighteen. I’m perfectly fine by myself,” you argued, stepping right in front of the screen to block his view.

He leaned sideways with a sigh. “No arguments. And you’re lucky it’s Beau. Could’ve been your grandma.” He waved you out of the way, muttering, “At least he won’t knit and lecture you about your love life.”

You groaned, but the conversation was clearly over. He was already focused back on the game.

Later that evening, the doorbell rang.

You opened it and there he was, Beau Arlen, in the flesh. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a worn flannel over a dark t-shirt, and jeans. His stubble was a little thicker than usual.

“Hey, kiddo,” Beau said as he dropped his duffel bag just inside the door. “Heard I’m on babysitting duty for the week.” He grinned and reached out to ruffle your hair.

You dodged his hand quickly. “No, you’re not.”

“Oh yes, he is,” your dad cut in, giving you a pointed look from the couch. “And don’t give him a hard time, alright? It wasn’t his choice, it was mine.”

“I know, Dad,” you mumbled, crossing your arms.

Your dad sighed and pushed himself up. “I better hit the road.” He pulled you into a quick hug and kissed your forehead. “Love you, even if you hate me right now.”

You frowned but hugged him back. “Bye, Dad. Love you.”

He gave Beau a nod and a wave on his way out. The front door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone in the sudden quiet of the house.

“Aww, bunny, don’t pout,” Beau said softly, patting the top of your head. He’d called you that since you were little, it was impossible to stay annoyed when he said it. “He’ll be back in a week.”

He smiled down at you, then grabbed his duffel bag again. You reached for the smaller one before he could.

“I can show you the guest room,” you offered.

Amusement flickered across his face as he followed you down the hallway. “Lead the way, hun.”

You led him down the hallway and pushed open the door to the guest room. It was simple but comfortable, fresh sheets, a big window, and the faint scent of laundry detergent.

“Here you go. There’s an extra blanket in the laundry room if you need it,” you said, nodding toward the end of the hall.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Beau gave your back a gentle, appreciative pat that lingered just a second longer than expected.

You swallowed hard at the warmth of his hand, then nodded quickly.

“Mhm. I’m gonna go make myself some food,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling awkward. You hadn’t exactly planned on having company.

“No worries, I won’t bother ya,” he replied easily. He tossed his duffel bag onto the bed and headed back toward the living room.

In the kitchen, you filled a pot with water and set it on the stove for ramen. A couple minutes later, a low voice rumbled behind you.

“Whatcha making?”

You startled slightly and pulled out one of your airpods. “Just some ramen,” you said, fidgeting with the strap of your tank top.

Beau’s eyes dropped to your hands. Without a word, he stepped closer and gently adjusted the strap for you, his fingers brushing your shoulder. Your breath caught.

“I can order us some pizza,” he offered, voice warm.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that…” You felt weird accepting. He was being so nice.

“Let me, hun. It’s been a while since it’s just been the two of us.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. “You used to crash at my place all the time when you were younger.”

You smiled despite yourself, memories flooding back. He really had been like an uncle to you growing up.

“Okay, fine,” you said with a small giggle, sliding onto one of the island counter stools.

Beau glanced up from his phone, thumbs hovering over the screen. “Cheese or pepperoni?”

“Whatever you want is fine.”

You started spinning slowly in the chair, feeling a little restless. Beau’s hand landed on the back of the stool, gently stopping your rotation.

“Careful now, bunny. You’re gonna make yourself dizzy,” he said, voice low and amused.

You looked up at him, suddenly aware of how close he was standing. The way he towered over you, green eyes crinkled with that familiar teasing smile.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s alright,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair lightly. “You’re always moving, aren’t ya?”

He tapped a few more times on his phone, finishing the order. “Pizza should be here in about thirty. You still like cheesy breadsticks?”

“Okay, cool. Thank you,” you said with a smile, hopping off the barstool. “And yeah, I still like them.”

Beau nodded toward the hallway. “Go on, I’ll let you know when it’s here.”

“Thanks again!” You grabbed your phone and hurried to your room, relieved to have a few minutes to yourself.

You flopped onto your stomach on the bed, legs kicking lazily in the air as you scrolled through TikTok. A few minutes later, a soft knock sounded on your door before it cracked open.

“Hey, hun. Pizza’s here,” Beau said, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes flicked over you for a brief second.

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” You quickly pushed yourself up and adjusted your pajama pants before following him out.

On the kitchen counter sat a plate with two slices of your favorite pizza, already waiting for you. A small smile tugged at your lips.

“This looks really good, Beau. Thank you again.”

“Stop sayin’ thank you,” he chuckled, reaching over to pat the top of your head. “But you’re welcome. Now go eat.”

You carried your plate to the couch where he was already settled, a few slices in front of him as he watched some random game on TV. You sat down pretty close, closer than you probably needed to.

Without hesitation, Beau draped his arm along the back of the couch, his hand resting lightly behind your shoulders. He kept eating with his other hand.

You gulped at the warm weight of his arm, heat creeping up your neck. He’s just being friendly, you told yourself, trying to focus on your pizza instead of how good he smelled or how solid he felt beside you.

Once you finished your pizza, you grabbed Beau’s plate too and carried everything to the sink.

“Aww, thanks bunny,” he said, smiling as he watched you. “You used to hate doing the damn dishes as a kid. Look at you now… all matured.”

You felt the weight of his gaze on your back but kept your focus on the plates, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I still hate it,” you admitted with a soft giggle, opening the dishwasher and sliding the plates inside.

Beau leaned back against the counter. “Your dad got any beer in this place?”

“Uh, yeah, probably in the garage fridge. I can grab you one.”

“Yeah, please. Thanks, hun.”

He headed back to the couch while you padded to the garage, the cold concrete making you shiver as it touched your bare feet. You pulled a cold beer from the fridge and hurried back inside.

“Here,” you said, handing it to him a little awkwardly.

Beau chuckled, taking the bottle from your hand. With an easy twist of his wrist, he popped the cap off. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

You nodded quickly, suddenly feeling flushed, and retreated to your room with a quiet sigh, closing the door behind you.

The next couple of days in a strange, surprisingly comfortable rhythm. Beau had settled in easily, he made coffee in the mornings, fixed the loose handle on the kitchen cabinet your dad had been ignoring for months, and teased you every chance he got. You tried to keep your distance, but it was hard when he was always around, filling the house with his low laughter and that warm, steady presence.

By the second evening, you were curled up on the couch again, this time in an oversized hoodie and shorts, while Beau sat beside you. The TV played some action movie neither of you were really paying attention to.

His arm was draped comfortably around your shoulders, your legs pressed against his as you sat tucked close to his side.

You played nervously with the strings of your oversized hoodie, eyes glued to the action movie on the TV even though you weren’t really into it.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Beau asked, turning his head to look at you.

“Yeah… just bored,” you admitted quietly.

“Aww, you wanna watch somethin’ else, hun?” He reached for the remote, already willing to change it.

“No, it’s okay. I know you like it,” you shrugged.

Beau shook his head with a soft chuckle. “I’m fine with somethin’ else. I’m not gonna make you sit through this if you’re not enjoying it.” He gently squeezed your shoulder, his thumb brushing back and forth in a slow, absentminded motion. “What do you feel like watching, bunny?”

You hesitated, suddenly very aware of how warm he was and how nice his arm felt around you. Your heart picked up speed as you glanced up at him. For a moment, the movie was completely forgotten.

“Uhm, this is really fine, I swear,” you said, suddenly feeling shy and awkward under his attention.

Beau sighed softly, turning more toward you. He reached out and gently caught your chin between his thumb and fingers, tilting your face up to meet his eyes.

“I told you to pick, hun,” he said, his voice low and warm. His thumb slowly brushed across your cheek in a gentle caress. “So pick.”

Your breath caught. His touch was so casual, yet it sent warmth rushing through you. You nodded quickly, eyes wide as you looked up at him. After a second, you mumbled, “Okay… maybe that new horror movie?”

Beau’s mouth curved into a small smirk, but he didn’t pull his hand away right away. His thumb gave one last soft stroke against your cheek before he finally let go and switched the movie.

As the horror film started, the lights in the living room already low, he settled back against the couch and tugged you closer with the arm still around your shoulders. Your side pressed against his chest, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“You scared of horror movies, bunny?” he teased quietly, glancing down at you.

“A little,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. You pulled your knees up slightly, subconsciously leaning more into his warmth.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” His hand slid down from your shoulder to rest on your upper arm, rubbing slow, soothing circles.

The movie played on, but it was getting harder and harder to focus on anything except how close he was, the scent of his cologne, the heat of his body, and the way his fingers kept lazily tracing patterns on your arm.

The next day passed in a warm, hazy blur.

In the morning, Beau made breakfast, scrambled eggs and bacon, while nursing a cup of coffee and teasing you about how you looked half-asleep. He was still his usual charming self, but there was a new kind of tension simmering between you two. Every time he brushed past you in the kitchen, his hand would linger on your lower back. Every shared glance felt heavier.

The rest of the day was relaxed. He worked on his truck in the driveway for a while, and you kept him company, sitting on the hood and talking about nothing important. He took you out for lunch, then the two of you spent the afternoon watching movies and bickering over which ones were actually good. The touches kept coming, his arm around you on the couch, his fingers playing with your hair, the way he’d pull you into his side.

By evening, he’d spent it all on the couch with a six-pack, slowly working his way through it while the two of you watched movies. He wasn’t blackout drunk, but he was definitely feeling it.

You were still on the couch, the living room dark except for the glow of the TV. The movie had ended long ago, but neither of you had moved to turn it off. Beau’s arm was heavy around your shoulders, his fingers idly playing with your tank top.

“C’mere, bunny,” he murmured, voice thick with whiskey and want.

He gently pulled you closer until you were practically straddling his lap. His hands settled on your hips, thumbs slowly rubbing circles over the fabric of your shorts. For a while, he just looked at you, eyes half-lidded, breathing deep.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he said quietly, almost to himself. One hand came up to tuck your hair behind your ear, then lingered, cupping your cheek. His thumb brushed slowly across your bottom lip.

Your heart pounded. You leaned in first this time.

The kiss started slow, soft and tentative. Beau tasted like beer and something warmer. He let you set the pace for a few moments before he took control, tilting his head and deepening the kiss with a low groan. His tongue slid against yours lazily, unhurried, like he wanted to savor every second.

His hands slid under your tank top, palms hot against your bare skin as he explored your waist and lower back. He didn’t rush. He just kept kissing you, slow and deep, while his fingers traced lazy patterns up your spine and back down again.

You shivered when his hand drifted to your thigh, squeezing gently and pulling you tighter against him. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans.

“Been wanting this…” he breathed against your lips between kisses, voice rough. “Been good for four whole days, bunny. Tryin’ so hard not to touch you like this.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, one hand moving up to cradle the back of your neck while the other stayed on your thigh, inching higher. His mouth moved to your jaw, then down to your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch.

You rocked against him instinctively. Beau let out a quiet, strained sound and gripped your hips tighter, guiding your movement just a little.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he whispered against your throat, even as he kissed you again, deeper. “We got all night…”

Beau pulled back just enough to look at you. His breathing was heavier now, chest rising and falling under you.

“Been thinkin’ about this since I got here,” he confessed, voice low and rough. His hands slid higher under your tank top, palms warm and calloused against your skin as he slowly mapped out your waist, your ribs, the curve of your sides.

You shivered at the touch. He smiled, slow and lazy, then leaned in again, kissing you deeper this time. The kiss was wet and unhurried, his tongue stroking yours in slow, deliberate movements that made your head spin. You could taste the beer on him, feel the slight stubble on his jaw brushing your skin.

One of his hands moved down to your ass, squeezing firmly and pulling you harder against him. You gasped into his mouth as you felt how hard he was beneath you. Beau groaned at the sound, the vibration traveling through your body.

“That’s it, bunny…” he murmured against your lips. “Keep makin’ those pretty little noises for me.”

You rocked your hips again, slower this time, grinding down against the bulge in his jeans. Beau’s grip on you tightened, guiding your movements with one hand while the other slipped further up your back, fingertips tracing your spine.

He broke the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck, sucking and licking at the sensitive skin just below your ear. When he found a spot that made you whimper, he stayed there, lavishing it with attention until you were trembling in his lap.

His hand under your shirt moved higher, thumb brushing just under the swell of your breast. He didn’t go further yet, just teased, slow and torturous, while his mouth continued its lazy exploration of your neck and collarbone.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered, almost reverently. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

The slow grind of your hips becoming more needy. Beau’s breathing was ragged now, his hands gripping you tighter as he kissed you again, deeper, filthier, like he was losing the last bit of restraint he had left.

But even drunk, he was still gentle with you, never rushing, like he wanted to draw this out as long as possible.

“Fuck it,” he growled softly, voice wrecked. “I need you, bunny.”

He lifted you like you weighed nothing and carried you to his room, kicking the door shut behind him. The second he laid you on the bed, he was on top of you, kissing you hard and deep while his hands tugged your tank top off. He groaned at the sight of your bare chest, leaning down to kiss and suck on your breasts, praising you the whole time.

“So perfect, look at you, sweetheart. So goddamn beautiful.”

You whimpered as he worked his way lower, pulling your shorts and panties down in one slow drag. Once you were completely naked beneath him, Beau sat back on his knees and just stared, eyes dark with lust.

He brought two fingers to your mouth. “Open.”

You obeyed, taking them between your lips and sucking gently. Beau’s eyes rolled back slightly as he watched, groaning deeply.

“That’s my good girl, just like that. Suck on them nice and slow for me.”

You swirled your tongue around his thick fingers, sucking harder while he watched, mesmerized. When they were slick enough, he pulled them out with a wet pop and moved them between your legs.

He teased your entrance first, rubbing slow circles around your clit before pushing one finger inside you, then two. You moaned loudly as he curled them, stroking that perfect spot while his thumb rubbed your clit.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me already,” he praised, voice husky. “Such a good little bunny, taking my fingers so well.”

He kept pumping them in and out, slow and deep, until you were writhing and moaning beneath him. Only then did he pull them out, quickly stripping off his own clothes.

Beau was big, thick and hard, the sight of him making your mouth water. He stroked himself once as he settled between your thighs.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“Yes, please, Beau.”

He groaned at the sound of his name and slowly pushed inside you, stretching you open inch by inch. “Ohhh fuck, bunny, so tight. So fucking perfect.”

Once he was fully buried inside you, he paused, letting you adjust while he kissed you deeply, whispering praises against your lips.

“That’s it, taking my cock so well. Such a good girl for me.”

Then he started moving, slow, deep thrusts that made your toes curl. Every stroke was deliberate, his drunk haze making him savor every second. His hands gripped your hips as he fucked you, pace gradually picking up while he kept praising you.

“Look at you, taking every inch like you were made for me. So pretty when you moan like that.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Beau cursed, burying his face in your neck as his thrusts grew harder and faster, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room.

He reached between you and rubbed your clit in tight circles, determined to make you come first.

“Come on, sweetheart, let me feel you cum on my cock. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

You came hard around him, crying out his name as pleasure crashed through you. Beau groaned loudly, the feeling of you tightening around his cock pushing him over the edge right after you.

“Fuck, bunny,” he rasped, burying himself deep as he came, hips stuttering with each pulse.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing. Beau stayed inside you, forehead pressed against yours, both of you catching your breath. Then he slowly pulled out and collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and sleepy from the alcohol and orgasm. He wrapped his strong arms around you, tucking you against his chest. One hand gently stroked up and down your back while the other played with your hair.

“You did so good,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your temple, your lips. “Such a perfect girl for me. Made me feel so fucking good.”

You nestled closer, still trembling slightly. Beau pulled the blanket over both of you and held you tight, his body warm and solid. Even drunk, he was gentle, kissing you lazily between soft praises and little murmurs.

“Stay right here with me tonight, bunny. Don’t want you goin’ anywhere.”

-Sisi

Stepsister!Reader X Dean Winchester

CW: Fauxcest, Smut, Slight corruption, Implied age difference, Thats it

A/N: I ended up Writing this three times it Got deleted??? Ughhhh!!! It’s okay, I always Provide :) I enjoyed writing this Hehe, I have an idea for Sam 👀👀👀👀😊😊😊

Word count: ~700

You were rolling around in bed, trying to sleep. Usually you could sleep just fine, but tonight there’s a random wave of heat lingering in the air. You toss and turn while groaning quietly. Dean overheard your muffled noises, and knocked on your door. “You alright in there, Sweetheart?” He asks. You just groan in response. He opens the door and slips into your room. His eyes immediately scan you, a look of sympathy on his face. Your body is covered in a layer of sweat, your cheeks dusted with a shade of pink. There’s a weird, heat in your stomach you can’t quite describe. It’s confusing, and it makes your eyes water with frustration.

“Hey hey, It’s okay. What’s wrong? You in pain?” You feared if you opened your mouth to speak, you’d start sobbing in his lap. Your bottom lip wobbled and the concern on his face softened into an understanding expression. “I feel weird, I can’t sleep.” You mumbled, looking at your lap. “Maybe you need to let some stress out, yeah? Blow off some steam?” He says, a soft smile on his face. You nod but you don’t really know what he means. “You know what I do to let off steam?” He asks. You don’t say anything, you just let him speak. “I jack off. You ever do that? Touch yourself?” He tilted his head to meet your eyes. You shake your head, he pats his thigh, signaling you to sit on his lap. “You want me to help you feel better? so you can sleep?” He whispers, “Itll be our secret, Okay? Dont tell Sammy, or Dad. Promise, sweetheart?” He sticks his pinky out. You link your pinky to his, sitting in his lap.

thinkin about older bf! soldier boy purposely babying you despite your age ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

warnings: MAJOR infantilization, petnames, afab reader, gross/perv ben, daddy kink, spanking, light dom/sub, fem-pronouns, fingering mention, crying, brat-calling (just once at the end).

a/n: so excited to share my second piece! woo!! i think this is an official reveal of my perverted tendencies. any feedback + asks would be greatly appreciated <3

older bf! soldier boy looooves to act like you are simply too young to understand anything he says, so he dumbs it down into terms he thinks you can understand.

whenever ben retells glory stories from his days as the golden boy of vought, he turns to you, pets your hair, and coos “don’t worry baby i’m gonna say it in little girl terms too,” regardless of the devotees crowded around him. you nod your flushed face as your wide, doe eyes look up and patiently wait for his explanation: “when daddy was younger, he used to kill all the bad men in the world to protect all the pretty girls like you! split em’ apart with the same fingers i use to stuff your cunny.”

older bf! soldier boy constantly doubts your ability to act like a functioning adult. he just chalks it up to how much younger you are than him and that you're just a girl!

whether it be ordering at a restaurant, picking an outfit to wear on date night, or even answering a question during an interview with your partner, ben’s “guidance” transgresses helpful and borders domineering. faltering for even a moment causes his sharp eyes to wrinkle in the corner, a demeaning smirk to slip onto his lips, and a large hand to snake up your back until the rough pads of his fingers can stroke the nape of your neck. condescendingly, ben will sneer: “aww thats alright honey; you don’t gotta get it, you’re just a little girl. let daddy handle all the thinkin’, all i need you to do is keep being pretty for your old man.”

older bf! soldier boy who is overly protective over everything!! no matter what you do, he is there ready to step in and “help” his darling girl.

as you’re cutting up vegetables for dinner, swaying your hips to the ambient music floating throughout the kitchen, ben is quick to jump off of the couch and cage you between his corded arms, pressing himself into your back. His hands envelope yours, shifting the knife into his palms, “dolly, you know you’re too little to play with knives, you should’ve asked daddy to help!” he’s even worse while watching movies; shielding your eyes during the dirty scenes in a movie despite his hand being in your panties and fingers curling inside you!

and if you bring any of this up, he treats all of your complaints and fights like a temper tantrum!

ben crosses his broad arms, tightens his lips, and looks down at you(r chest) while shaking his head in chastisement. “sugar, i don’t like this tone you’re takin’ with me, you gotta respect your daddy.” and if you find it in yourself to continue to protest, he’ll thrust you over his knee and unclasp his leather belt with one hand and peeling off your damp, lacy panties with the other. “you’ve really done it now, little girl. now i’m gonna have to spank all that brat out till’ my good girl comes back.” he growls, his calloused hands cupping your cheek while his thumb sweeps away your salty tears.