𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐢

【⠀new ִ ࣪𝑠ᴀvᴇ 𝑓ɪʟᴇ ׅ🎮 】 hello dear bunny reader !! thank you for this request, I've been meaning to post this as a full fic but i figured it was too short so hopefully you enjoy!

🇹​🇦​🇬​🇸​ : boss!ben, pervy ben, age gap, power imbalance, mean ben, slight sir kink, slight breeding kink, unprotected p in v, light impact play, light choking, degradation.

Working for Ben was a mistake. A nightmare.

You figured that out sometime during your second week, right around the point he stopped pretending to be professional. It wasn't subtle either, oh no, Ben wasn't the kind of man who did subtle. He stared when he felt like staring, said whatever came into his head, tested you more and more.

He was mean, and even that is an understatement. One day he'd lean against your desk, call you "pretty girl" and so obviously stare down you blouse, seeing what pretty bra you decided to wear today, the next day he'd rip into you because somebody else screwed something up.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: dads!bestfriend!russell x reader , fauxcest if you squint , secret relations , blow job , 18+

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 315

#𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: this is so bad bc it’s late but enjoy ¿¿ getting me to write lately is like pulling teeth :(

dads!bestfriend!russell always made you promise it was the last time , but he never stopped looking for a reason to break that promise.

standing in the kitchen , nursing a beer while your father rambled on about a project in the garage. but underneath the tight fabric of his greyed jeans , he was reeling. mind trapped in the claustrophobic , humid air of the laundry room from twenty minutes ago. a sensitive ache , a phantom weight of your mouth refusing to leave him.

it had been dirty of you both. the moment his strained cock escaped his boxers , one soft ‘slap’ and his drooling tip escaped its confines. thick , watery precome ran in rivulets down the dense hair on his abdomen.

what really made him keep coming back to you , was when you paid extra attention to his sensitive tip. those small firm licks to the head of his purpled shaft. letting out a soft giggle when his breathing stopped and his cock started to twitch.

russell would try and press your head back, his knuckles white , a hiss the only warning he had left. “quit fucking doing— that sweetheart. ‘m gonna come too quick.” and you’d take every desperate, greedy bit of him in your mouth , your goal was to make him come harder than the last.

"you still with us?" your dad laughed , clapping a hand on russell’s shoulder.

"yeah ‘course i am," he cleared his throat, a register that felt like a secret confession. "just need a drink." and he’d let his gaze flicker toward you , where you stood by the sink , your lips still slightly wet and puffy.

as he swallowed , the faint taste of salt on his tongue. a reminder of taking his thumb , gliding against your lower lip to catch the lingering trace of his own release , and bringing it back to taste himself.

"this gotta be the last time, kid," he had whispered, lowly.

at first, ben despised the idea of anything pr related. he let it slide when vought started to go hollywood and he became more of a heart throb than a hero. but, a pr relationship was a lot.

until they told ben the truth.

you were made just for him.

miss merica. ben never saw anything more beautiful in red, white and blue.

and you were nothing but america's sweetheart. all bright smiles and soft words— perched right next to soldier boy in front of dozens of cameras— talking about how honored you were to be standing there with vought. with ben.

he learned to love having you next to him. his pretty little arm candy. america's favorite couple.

but it took him a while to get you to stand next to him so pretty.

"ohhh–b-soldier boy!" you couldn't feel anything but ben. his huge arms were pinning you down completely.

your eyes were blurring so much that the green in ben's suit was taking over your vision and his tongue was taking over everything else.

you could lie and say you were shocked you ended up with soldier boy in your bedroom at vought tower. but really, it was inevitable.

you knew you really wanted each other when he started practically living with you. sleeping in your bed, changing in your green room— he refused to eat a meal without you.

and you knew it was more real than you realized when clara started looking at you like you took her favorite toy.

because really, you did.

ben's eyes were shut while his mouth was sucking in anything your pussy had to give him. he'd been doing this for a while— almost an hour now.

he pulled back from your soaked cunt to hit his heavy palm against it. you jolted at the sensation and whined up at him.

he grinned at your reaction with that stupid soldier boy smile. he was rubbing your clit now to sooth you from the smack and simultaneously keeping you on edge.

he laughed at you before leaning back down and getting ready to dive in again.

"come on doll, i wanna see how sweet america's sweetheart can really get."

“FORBIDDEN.”

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ dbf!dean winchester au x reader

having graduated from university, you return to your hometown for the summer while your boyfriend is off visiting his family as well. however, with the return, being back in a familiar environment immediately brings back old memories and the returning of your dad’s best friend, dean; whom you’ve had a secret, forbidden crush on since childhood. after four years of being gone, the unresolved feelings for dean haven’t seem to gone away like you expected it would, or avoided as much as possible considering you’re in a loving relationship with your boyfriend, adrian. but as dean continues to hang around all summer, things start to unravel and the unexpected becomes a reality.

warnings: age gap (adults), pet-names (kid, kiddo,…)

this is pt.2 to the first one: things are still in a work in progress, feedback is appreciated, still writing, updates are coming.

you just finished taking a hot shower, done skincare, brushed your teeth, even put on a little makeup and done your hair while you were at it. you knew dean would be staying the night anyway, might as well look nice.

“i missed you,” lingered in your mind still as you walked down the stairs; immediately being greeted by the sound of drunken laughter of your parents and dean.

the smell of whiskey filled the room as you slowly entered.

“look what the cat dragged in,” your dad says, stumbling from the couch towards you. his whole aura reeked of whiskey. his cheeks were bright red, heat radiated from his body. everybody was extremely intoxicated.

your dad hugged onto you tightly, making you stumble from his heavy weight. the only person you could focus on in the room was dean: he was mumbling to himself under his breath, closing his eyes as if he was about to fall asleep in that moment.

your mom stood up slowly, “your dad and i are going up to bed now, sweetie. goodnight,” they grabbed each others’ arm to help stabilize each other as they practically crawled up the stairs to their room.

silence immediately filled the room when it became just the two of you. you and dean.

the unspeakable tension you felt years ago never left like you thought it had. you felt his brooding stare that felt like it could laser you apart.

“so, i heard you’ve got a boyfriend, huh, kiddo?” dean mumbled, barely getting out the words he wanted to speak. “yeah, i do. his name is adrian,” you returned his intense stare. “when do i get to meet the lucky guy?”

you let out a small giggle, “one day, dean.” his expression got more intense, his jaw clenching, eyes squinting. the atmosphere felt uncomfortable; an awkward feeling you couldn’t seem to place between the two of you. the last thing you wanted to think about was adrian, not while around dean.

the silence in the room felt heavy, thick with the sharp scent of whiskey and the quiet hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen. dean’s jaw remained tightly clenched, his gaze locked onto you with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. that easy, playful warmth he usually showed around your parents was completely gone, replaced by something dark, raw, and entirely focused on you.

“one day,” dean repeated, his voice dropping into a low, rough growl that vibrated in his chest. he let out a short, humorous breath of laughter, and a small sigh in between. he leaned back against the sofa cushions, but his body didn’t relax. “right. one day.”

you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you really are standing right next to him. the makeup you had carefully applied felt like a mask, and you wondered if he could tell you got ready just for him. his eyes flicked down to your freshly done hair, tracking a loose strand that rested against your collarbone, before snapping back to your face.

“your dad talks about him a lot,” dean murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied your expression. “says he’s a real gentleman. solid. predictable.”

those words felt less like a compliment to adrian and more of a challenge to you. dean shifted his position on the couch, stretching his legs out. the movement brought his boots inches from your bare feet.

“is he?” dean asked, his voice softer now, almost dangerously quiet. “is he everything you wanted, kid?”

your mouth went completely dry. the word kid usually felt like a reminder of the boundary between the two of you that you were forbidden to cross. but the way dean said it now, with his gaze dropping deliberately to your lips, made it feel like the exact opposite of innocent, and a shift in the air felt like the tension you thought only you felt between the two of you was reciprocated from both of you. your heart hammered against your ribs so loudly you were terrified he could hear it in the quiet room.

“he’s good to me, dean,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. you tried to sound confident, tried to find that steady rhythm you usually had when talking about your life at university, but the words felt hollow.

dean didn’t answer right away. he just stared at you, his green eyes tracking every micro-expression on your face, reading your nervousness like an open book. he closed his eyes for a long moment, rubbing a heavy hand over his face as if he’s trying to fight off the alcohol, before opening them to look up at you from under his brow.

“good,” dean muttered, though his clenched jaw told an entirely different story. he gripped the edge of the couch cushion, his knuckles turning white. “he better be.” his grip on the cushion slightly relaxed. “he better be,” dean mumbled under his breath again, his voice gravelly and rough.

“because a girl like you…” dean trailed off, his voice dropping an octave as he looked you up and down, taking in the subtle makeup and freshly-done hair. a dark, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “a girl like you deserved the best. not just some college boy who thinks buying you flowers makes him a real man.”

your breath hitched. the way he said, a girl like you, sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine. the thing is, he’s your dad’s best friend, but the way he was looking at you right now wasn’t anything like before.

dean stood up from the couch. he stumbled slightly, the whiskey clearly hitting him hard, but he managed to catch his balance instantly. he closed the distance between you before you could even think about stepping back. towering over you, his broad shoulders blocked out the rest of the living room. you were trapped in his space, completely enveloped by the scent of musky vanilla, whiskey, and leather.

he reached out, his large, calloused hand hovering just an inch away from your face. for a terrifying, exhilarating second, you thought he was going to cup your cheek. instead, his rough fingers gently tucked the loose strand of hair behind your ear. his knuckles gently brushing against your heated skin, and you couldn’t help but suppress the sharp intake of air that escaped your lips.

dean’s green eyes darkened as he noticed your reaction. he leaned in just a fraction of an inch closer, his breath warm up against your ear.

“you’re a bad liar, kiddo,” he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “you’re talking about adrian, but your heart is being so loud i can hear it from here. why is that?”

he stayed right there, looming over you, his heavy chest rising and falling just inches away from your own. the alcohol made him bolder than usual, blurring the strict boundary he had spent years enforcing between himself and his best friend’s daughter. up close, you could see the fine lines around his green eyes and the dark stubble mapping his jawline.

use of sweetheart & sweet thing! requested

“you like that, don’t you?” the rasp in his voice mixed with the way he grinds his hips down slowly, cock stretching you out perfectly, causes your eyelids to flutter closed and your nails to sink into the skin of his hip with each thrust. “like feelin’ how deep i am, honey?” teeth nip at your ear, one of his hands pressed down on your back, keeping you pinned down on the bed while the other rests beside your head. “yeah, you do, just look at you.”

you try to reply but with how his hand presses down on your lower back again, your eyes roll back and your lips part with a choked moan at the deep stretch of his cock pressing deeper into your cunt, walls fluttering around him. “that’s it, let me in, honey.” he cooes into the shell of your ear.

beyond the room, you can faintly hear the sound of waves crashing outside the sliding doors, a subtle reminder of the vacation you both took together for some warranted down time, but your mind isn’t focused on that, it’s focused on the feeling of his slow thrusting, focused on the sound of his breathless panting. the world outside doesn’t exist. not when he’s with you.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he groans deeply, palms of his hands landing on the globes of your ass, and his eyes; hooded and lustful, watch the bounce of flesh. “so pretty like this.”

the fabric of the pillows muffle your moans, muffles the choked whines each time his hand lands on your ass, squeezing and rubbing to ease sting away gently. your body begins to jolt, moving higher up the bed each time he pulls out so the tip remains, just to sink back into you a little harder. the sounds of skin slapping together echoes the room loudly.

“so deep,” your words are slurred and breathless, eyes half open. “you’re so deep, honey, can’t, oh fuck,” the hand you had on his hip flies off and grips the sheet tightly beneath you, eyes rolling back a second time when both his hands are dripping your hips, practically dragging you back and forth onto his cock.

you’re pretty sure you’ve got drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth and onto the silk sheets below, but you don’t seem to care, he sure as hell doesn’t. the thick vein on the underside of his cock throbs against your walls, and it causes you to squirm underneath him but his hands stay clamped around your hips, keeping you from moving away from him.

“nuh uh, stay here, baby, just stay right here. yeah, that’s it, good girl.” his praise goes straight to your cunt and your walls clamp around him tightly. “takin’ it so good,” he’s sitting back just enough to look at the way you’re both connected, the sight of the thick creamy white ring around the base of his cock causes him to growl. a growl that emits from deep in his chest. he huffs out a breath through his nose, and keeping his thrusts hard enough to have you whining and moaning, but then switches them to a slow grind of his hips to have you begging all over again. 

the second he’s lowering himself over you, the angle causes him to sink even deeper if that’s possible; he moves from your hips, and forms his hands into fists and presses themdown onto the mattress on each side of your hips instead and one of your hands grab onto the hard muscle of his arm, nails sinking into the skin once his thrusts get harder, driving into you with vigor. “i love you,” he groans, sweat forming on the hairline of his face and then down his temple, eyes flickering between where his cock slides in and out of your cunt and then at the way your muscles in your back tense. “love you so much.”

you’re rendered speechless, hair sticking to your face, tears streak down your face at the pure feeling of him fucking you so deep and good into the mattress that any thoughts you did have are now gone. you bury your face deeper into the pillows when he’s suddenly moving his arm, not the one you’re still holding and slides his hand down your stomach before his fingers find your throbbing clit, that you scream into the pillow, his long digits rubbing slow but constant figure eights on the sensitive nub in tune with each of his thrusts. “ohmygod! don’t stop, please don’t stop.” you finally manage to cry out.

he grins smugly, and shakes his head despite you not being able to see him. “never, honey, never gonna stop.” he promises.

your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, no prior warning and your walls tighten around his cock again, his breatch hitches at the feeling and clenches his jaw tightly and you can tell he isn’t far behind with how his movements get slower and sloppier above you, groaning and moaning breathlessly; the sweat from his forehead and chest drop onto your back but he doesn’t stop, his fingers against your clit don’t stop either.

“gonna cum, baby,” his voice is wrecked, raspy and low. “where do you want it?”

“inside,” you gasped out, your body still coming from the high of your own orgasm; you’re pretty sure he might even pull another one from you if he keeps it up. “want it inside, please, need it inside.”

all it takes is a few more deep thrusts, and his entire body locks and tenses before he’s spilling deep inside you. “wait, baby, don’t do that,” he chokes out weakly when your cunt flutters around him, trying to milk his cock for all he’s worth. “christ,” his cock twitches inside you, and when you hum contently at the feeling of him filling you up just like you always ask for he laughs hoarsly. “you’re greedy,” he murmurs, carefully lowering himself to press his chest against your back. his body was warm despite being sweaty. “and beautiful.” 

once he’s close enough he presses his face into your neck from behind, you turn your head as best you can, even if the angle is awkward, and press a kiss to his temple; you hope it’s his temple; your eyes are still hooded and glazed. “love you, honey. stay like this with me for a while.”

you’re not even trying to impress him. that’s what pisses him off first. you don’t fawn, don’t giggle, don’t ask to touch the suit. you just look him up and down like he’s another loud man taking up space in your kitchen and go, “rules are on the fridge, ben.”

and he’s instantly ruined.

because at first he’s arrogant about it. he thinks you’re playing hard to get. thinks you’re doing the good wife act for the cameras, all polite smiles and clipped answers while your husband is off living in ben’s house with his actual wife. but then the cameras shut off for the night, and you’re still like that. calm. unimpressed. standing barefoot in the kitchen in your little sleep shorts, pouring yourself water while he leans against the counter and stares at your legs like he’s forgotten every commandment he’s ever ignored.

he starts breaking rules just to see what you’ll do.

walks around shirtless. takes up the whole couch. calls you sweetheart in that low, gravelly voice. stands too close when you’re cooking, big hands braced on either side of the counter behind you, his chest almost touching your back while he murmurs, “your husband let you boss him around like this too?”

and you don’t even turn around. you just say, “only when he’s smart.”

ben laughs, but it’s not funny to him anymore. not really. because he’s hard in his sweats and you’re pretending you don’t notice, and he knows you do. he knows by the way your hand hesitates on the knife. by the way your thighs press together when he leans in close enough for his beard to brush your ear.

by day five, he’s fucking unbearable.

he watches you fold laundry like it’s porn. watches you bend over the dryer and mutters something filthy under his breath. catches himself staring at your panties in the basket for too long. he starts finding excuses to touch you. hand on your lower back when he moves past you. fingers brushing your hip when he reaches into the cupboard. thumb dragging over your wrist when he hands you your coffee.

and then one night, after a fake dinner for the cameras where he plays your temporary husband a little too well, he follows you upstairs.

you tell him, “ben, the cameras are off.”

he says, “good.”

then he kisses you like he’s been starving for it.

not sweet. not gentle. not polite reality-tv fake-marriage shit. he backs you into the bedroom door and kisses you with one hand around your jaw and the other gripping your waist so hard you gasp into his mouth. he likes that. he likes hearing you lose that calm little voice. likes feeling you grab his shirt like you’re angry at yourself for wanting him.

mechanic!dean x single!mom!reader

synoposis ⸝ ⸝ the hot new neighbour moves in next door and his first stop in town is your bakery, where he learns two things. one: he needs to up his game at pronouncing ridiculous dessert names, and two: you are one very good-looking single mother.

warnings ⸝ ⸝ none; just fluff, not really proofread, mechanic!dean and single!mom!reader’s first time meeting ♡

You’re already up at seven in the morning, boxing cupcakes, assorted macarons, and other sweet treats for another round of pickup orders today whilst triple checking the labels for every one to make sure it’s the right order for the right customer. Then, the sound of a car engine is heard rumbling down the street—louder, closer, until you’re pretty sure you can’t even hear your own thoughts anymore. And then, the engine gets cut. Other people on the block seem to have spot the newbie too already. Your daughter perks her head up from her spot at the kitchen island, spoon full of cereal halfway to her mouth when she drops it back into the bowl, eyes wide and curious. “Mommy, look!” The five-year-old gasps dramatically, “We have a new neighbour!”

“Huh.” That’s all you say in response—more so to yourself as you look out the window to see a ‘67 Black Chevy Impala pull into the driveway of the house next door to yours that’s been long vacant since you’d moved here—which was some time ago. “Well, that’s somethin’ new.”

The driver steps out a second later. Tall. Broad shoulders. Worn jeans hanging low on his hips and a black tee that clung tightly to his solid figure in a way that honestly feels disrespectful to a town where half the women are divorced or have been without partner for as long as they can remember. (A little ironic you think when you pretend not to hear the backhanded pity from the same women for being a single, never married mom at twenty something years old. How different are you from them, really?)

And it was in that moment the entire town lost their collective minds.

. ｡❀ “ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 . . “ ̼︵

. ryland grace // fluff :: naked intimacy, chest laying, bare cuddling, sleepy kisses, clingy ryland, no lustful thoughts, fem!reader, petnames . 1k

navigation . kofi

Ryland Grace is a man of science, which means he really should know better than to make claims without proper testing. He knows about evidence, repeat results, controlled variables, all that serious teacher-brain stuff he used to say with a marker in his hand and tired chalk dust on his sleeve.

But when it comes to you, especially when it comes to the way he fits against you at the end of a long day, Ryland does not need a lab, a graph, or a peer-reviewed paper to know one thing for certain. Your boobs are the best pillow in the universe, and he will argue this point with anyone who’s brave enough to disagree.

It happens when the two of you are already tucked away from the rest of the world, clean from your showers, warm beneath the blankets, and too tired to do anything except exist together. You’re lying on your back, bare under one of his old shirts that’s been pushed up from the way you’ve been shifting around, and Ryland is beside you with heavy eyes and messy hair.

He looks completely done for, like his body has remembered every single exhausting thing he’s survived all at once. Still, the second he turns his head and notices the soft bare skin of your chest, his expression changes into something so fond and sleepy that it makes your heart ache a little.