La Petite Mort

“It seems.”

“This is my little brother, Sam."

“Hi” He smiled.

"If you're trying something for the first time, don't start with the sugar-free stuff." You suggested, Sam smiled despite himself.

"Any recommendations?" Dean felt something inside him deflate slightly. Your eyes flicked briefly toward the display case before settling on one particular tray.

"The cinnamon rolls. Those are my favorites."

"Then I'll have one."

"Extra icing?" you asked. For a second, Sam's gaze lingered on yours.

"Sure," he said with a small smile. "Extra icing."

"Well, for me, I know exactly what I want," Dean interrupted. He lowered the menu dramatically. "Cherry pie. Extra whipped cream."

You took both menus. "Coming right up."

Before heading back toward the kitchen, you gave Sam one last smile. Dean noticed. Of course he noticed.

A few minutes later, you returned balancing a tray.

The second the slice of pie was set in front of him, Dean's entire expression changed. "Here you go."

Dean took one bite. Didn’t wait for anything, not even for Sam’s plate to be on the counter.

"This is the best pie I've ever had." You laughed.

"Thank you, if you come tomorrow I’ll give you a free slice, I’m working on a new pie, I need opinions."

“Consider it done.”

While Dean was having what could only be described as a spiritual experience, you found yourself talking with Sam.

"Passing through town?" you asked.

"Something like that." You leaned against the counter slightly.

"Business or pleasure?" Sam laughed softly.

"Mostly business."

"Sounds exciting."

"It really isn't." You smiled. Dean watched the entire exchange over the edge of his pie.

You smiled more when talking to Sam.

You looked directly at Sam when asking questions.

You kept finding reasons to continue the conversation.

And Sam, being Sam, appeared completely unaware.

Dean took another bite. Observed. Analyzed.

And reached a conclusion.

Eventually, you left them to enjoy their food in peace. Or at least that had been the intention.

You busied yourself taking orders, wiping down tables, and carrying plates back and forth from the kitchen. Still, every now and then, your gaze drifted toward the counter. Toward Sam.

It wasn't intentional. At least, not at first.

There was just something about him that kept catching your attention. Maybe the easy smile. Maybe the way he listened whenever someone spoke. Whatever it was, it proved surprisingly difficult to ignore.

Twice, you caught him looking your way. Twice, you immediately found something else to focus on. By the second time, you were pretty sure lingering any longer would only embarrass you.

A while later, when both plates sat empty and Dean looked one bite away from ordering a second slice of pie, you returned to the counter and gathered the dishes.

"So?" you asked Sam. "Was I right?" He looked up.

"Hm?"

"The cinnamon roll."

"Oh." A small smile appeared on his face. "Yeah. You were right."

Dean watched the exchange over the rim of his coffee mug.

"You usually trust complete strangers with your pastry recommendations?" Sam asked.

"Only when I'm very confident."

"And were you?" You shrugged.

"I had a feeling." Sam laughed softly.

"Good call." Something about that seemed to make you smile a little wider.

"Does that mean you'd order it again?" Dean immediately stopped eating. Interesting question.

Sam glanced down at his plate. There wasn't much to look at. The cinnamon roll was long gone, not a single crumb left behind. "Definitely." You looked pleased with that answer. Maybe a little too pleased.

"And would you come back here for it?" you asked, suddenly finding the coffee machine behind him very interesting.

Sam smiled. "Yeah. I think I would." Dean nearly rolled his eyes. Sam was completely oblivious. He was starting to seriously consider smacking some sense into him.

A few minutes later, they paid and headed outside.

The bakery door had barely closed behind them when Dean pointed at his brother.

"She likes you." Sam didn't even look up.

"What? No."

"She absolutely does."

"Dean."

"Sam."

"No." Dean let out an incredulous laugh.

"She asked if you'd come back."

"For the cinnamon roll."

“Are you listening to yourself?."

"She was just being nice." Dean stopped walking for a second.

"You are unbelievable." Sam finally looked over.

"What?"

"She gave you the smile."

"What smile?".

"You know. The smile." Dean knew the smile. He'd gotten it plenty of times before.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The one girls give you when they like you." Sam shook his head and kept walking.

But Dean caught the corner of his mouth twitching upward and that was enough.

Dean was back the next morning. Not because he had nothing better to do.

Not because he was meddling. (He was absolutely meddling.)

Not because he'd been thinking about pie all morning.

And definitely not because somebody had promised him a free slice.

But for a good cause.

The bell above the bakery door chimed.

You looked up from behind the counter and immediately smiled.

"You came."

“I did. You have something for me, remember?”

“How could I not?” You smiled. ”Have a seat, I’ll bring it”

A moment later, you returned carrying a plate.

"Pineapple pie." Dean's eyes lit up. “Fresh out of the oven.”

“Feels like you did it just for me.”

“You seem to know about this. I trust you.” Dean smirked and took the first bite. Your face relaxed when you saw him make the exact same face he had yesterday.

“Oh, wow."

"Good, wow?"

“Hell, wow.” he corrected.  Satisfied, Dean continued eating while you wiped down part of the counter nearby.

For a few minutes, the conversation stayed easy. The weather. The fact that half the locals seemed convinced the sheriff was secretly dating the mayor.

When you gave Dean his second slice, you hesitated.

"Can I ask you something?"

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Depends."

"Your brother..." Dean immediately sat up straighter.

"What about him?" You looked down at the dish towel in your hands.

"Is he seeing anyone?" Dean almost choked on the piece of pie. "You okay?"

"Absolutely." You stared at him. Dean lowered his fork slowly. "No."

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. "No?"

"No girlfriend. No wife. No secret family. No mysterious fiancée." A smile slipped through before you could stop it. Dean caught it immediately.

"You like Sam." You looked away. Dean took another bite of pie. Then pointed his fork at you. "I knew it."

"You know nothing."

"I know everything now."

"You met me yesterday."

"And yet here we are." You groaned. Dean looked entirely too pleased with himself.

For a moment he simply continued eating, enjoying the fact that he'd been right.

Then another thought occurred to him. A terrible thought.

The kind of thought that usually got him in trouble.

"I can help." Your expression answered before you did. Dean laughed.

"Shut up” Dean took another bite. ”Help how?"

"You keep giving me free pie."

"...Okay."

"And I keep bringing Sam back." You blinked.

“You sell your brother for pie? What kind of brother are you?”

“A good old brother.”  

“You are unbelievable.”

"I've been told that." You tried very hard not to smile. Dean noticed that too. Felt like a victory for him.

“This is wrong”

"Is that's a yes?" You rolled your eyes It was a ridiculous deal. A completely absurd deal, but somehow, by the end of the conversation, the two of you had shaken on it.

The deal worked suspiciously well. By the end of the week, Sam had been dragged into the bakery five separate times.

At first, he'd blamed Dean.

Then the pie.

Then boredom.

Eventually, he stopped pretending.

He liked being there, talking to you, hearing your stories.

Liked watching you argue with Dean whenever he tried stealing samples.

Liked the way you laughed.

Dean could see it happening. The entire town could see it happening.  Sam, unfortunately, could not.

"Why does everyone keep looking at me?" he asked one afternoon.

Dean almost drove into a mailbox.

By the second week, Dean had enough.

The bakery was closing for the evening. You were wiping down the front counter while Sam helped carry a few boxes into the back.

Dean watched the two of you for few seconds. Then grabbed his jacket.

"Bobby’s calling."

Sam frowned. "Your phone is not ringing."

Dean was already halfway out the door. "I’ll be back." And then he was gone.

The silence that followed felt strangely different. Sam set the last box down and looked around.

"Seemed urgent" you said.

"Yeah."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then you set the cleaning cloth aside.

"So..."

Sam looked up. "So?"

You folded your arms. "Are you gonna ask me out, or am I gonna have to make Dean keep doing all the work?"

"Oh." A nervous laugh escaped him.

"That’s not what I was expecting“

"No, I just—"

"You just what, Sam? your brother has eaten five of my pies this two weeks, please tell me it was worthy.”

"Five?"

"Five." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. You shook your head. "And somehow he's still not satisfied."

"Yeah," Sam laughed. "That sounds like Dean."

The two of you fell quiet again.

"I was starting to think you genuinely had no idea," you admitted. The tips of Sam's ears turned red. Which was answer enough.

"I didn't," he said, a little sheepishly. That made you laugh.

Not because it was surprising. Mostly because it wasn't.

Sam glanced down for a second before looking back at you.

"Now I do." Your smile softened.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Sam stepped a little closer. His eyes flickered briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. Then back to your eyes. And this time neither of you looked away.

He reached up, his hands settled gently along your jaw. And then he kissed you.

Soft at first. A little hesitant.

Long overdue.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were smiling. It felt almost funny after all the effort Dean had put into getting the two of you to this point.

"Took you long enough."

"I'd really like to take you out."

"I don't open on Fridays."

"Dinner is okay?" You smiled.

"Perfect” You gave him a quick kiss ”But you have to promise your brother won’t sneak into my bakery looking for more pie." Sam laughed.

It’s been forever since Castiel first put the blindfold over your eyes…you think. Only left with the sound of your soft breaths, time has become a blur— has it been minutes? Hours? A day even? Your blindfold is his shirt sleeve, cut off and repurposed so you’re always tauntingly touching a part of him. He says it’s all the touch that you’ve earned…no… deserved so far.

Castiel moves around like a shadow. One moment he could be standing, listening to you cry when what you think is by your lonesome, only to gasp at a sudden and paralyzing grip around your throat. He’s made it clear time and time again that he’s “not something you can turn around and breed like an animal all hours of the day”— his words, specifically. But since you wanted to fuck like one so badly, there you lie like prey in ropes, old tears leaking through the sleeve until your lover feels like touching you.

And there he is, suddenly over you. His legs straddle your waist, knees pressed against your tightly bound biceps knowing damn well it’ll do nothing to further restrain you. He must’ve been watching for a while from how hard and throbbing his cock is against your abdomen. The weight puts pressure on the ropes around your arms, burning and forcing another sob to get choked back.

“I’m glad you like to keep quiet,” Castiel grunts. “I hate when things are loud.”

Each bit of pressure he forces makes him harder— he likes seeing you try to keep your mouth shut, to keep obedient, every natural instinct screaming to clamp your hand over your mouth only to realise you can’t. He puts another few pounds of weight against you, his own guttural groan rumbling from your desperate flailing. A finger finds its way into your mouth, quickly replaced with a thumb.

“Do you like the ropes?” Castiel’s voice is playful despite aggressive tugs at your bottom lip. His fingers are painfully icy as is the rest of the room, every inch of your skin is covered in goosebumps, hairs standing up and more sensitive than ever. You know better than to cry louder than what Castiel approves.

“Good. I’ve brought more for that incessant sound. You don’t deserve anything. Especially not this disgusting entitlement.” He leans down with maximum pressure and his free hand turns to pinch your nipple. The tender flesh beads up beautifully for him and your chest heaves in another quiet gasp. The only heat you’ve felt in ages shoots through your body like a horrid sting.

you and ben sat beside each other on the creaky bed, just barely touching under the covers you are forced to share. you’re sat up with your arms around your knees, while ben is sprawled out with his arm beneath his head.

going on vacations and trips with your friend, emma, and her dad was not uncommon. you two were glued at the hip ever since first becoming friends. you’d share rooms, beds, sometimes even showers. it wasn’t weird to you or her, so there stood no problem. every trip, you and emma would end up rooming while her father would get himself a single, but this time was different.

emma got herself a boyfriend. and with said boyfriend, she had to room with him. it was the most logical. so unfortunately you were stuck rooming with her father, ben.

ben was always good to you, making sure you felt like his real daughter. he loved you like his own, and certainly treated you as such. luckily for him, your father was a deadbeat, so ben quickly filled himself into a fatherly role.

here you were now, years later, formed as a proper woman—your body was enough evidence for that. he was infatuated with you, which made him decide that it was finally time to mark you as his.

letting out a yawn, you leaned over to grab the remote as the movie had ended. you don’t realize that your ass was up in bens view, with your back arched as you reached for the remote. you let out a struggled sound, your arms just not long enough to reach.

ben chuckled behind you, and swiftly pressed against you to grab the remote. him being much bigger than you, he pulled it with ease. you let out a gasp, feeling your ass flush against his crotch. you quickly recoil, slamming yourself back onto the mattress away from him.

after turning off the tv, ben placed himself on top of you, and glided his hand down your cheek. it tickles you ever-so slightly, until it reached your neck, which he firmly gripped.

“ben…” you whispered, “what are you doing?” your voice was ignored as ben stared down at you. he licked his bottom lip, his eyes still on your plush lips. “just trust me, sweetheart,” he whispers.

you weren’t blind; you knew from the day you met him how good looking he was. although being much older, he looked amazing. he had a full head of hair, beautiful doe eyes, and a god-sculpted body. but you avoided thinking about him like that, he was your best friend's father after all. you couldn’t let whatever it is he wanted to happen. it was wrong, disgusting, maybe even unlawful. because no matter what, you started to see ben as a father, someone you had grown to trust and love.

“no, please. stop,” you breathed. you were scared, terrified. you wanted to believe he wasn’t in his right mind, that he was in a state of delusion—that he didn’t know what he was doing. but he knew, alright.

bringing his face closer to yours, he gripped your throat harder. “don’t make this hard… unless you like it that way.” he smirked wickedly before bringing his lips to your neck. you let out a whimper as he kissed and sucked on your neck, being sure to leave traces of himself. you tried to push him away, but he was too strong. he growled on top of you, pulling away from your neck. “stop fucking moving,” he demanded. you let out a sob, accepting your defeat.

with a victorious smile on his face, ben began to pull your shirt off. he tossed it behind him and began to lick and kiss all over your chest. despite still wearing a bralette, it was sheer and thin so it served no barrier. you'd never felt this before-such intimate actions. his tongue darted to circle around your covered nipple, his saliva soaking the fabric. your jaw slacked and back arched against his mouth. chuckling, ben lightly bit at your nipple before letting his tongue graze over it. you whimpered, unintentionally grinding yourself against his hard body.

"look at you, sweetheart. look at how much you want this," he whispered. his hands kneaded your breasts while he studied you with lustful eyes. your eyes were squeezed shut, lips parted, and hands still slightly pushing his chest. you began to shake your head furiously, lips forming a pout before you start to sob.

"no, stop. i don't want this. p-please.."

"you want it. you want it real bad, princess. look at you, grinding against me so hard," he whispered into your ear sensually. his hand left your breast, and moved to cup your clothed cunt. granted, your pyjama shorts are as thin as your bralette, and of course, you're not wearing panties.

“let me show you what a real man feels like, yeah? you need this, baby.” your hips bucked at his words, receiving the smallest amount of friction against his hand. you moaned lowly, head pressing hard against the pillow beneath you.

ben bit his lip and slowly started to circle his fingers against your clothed clit. he admired how your lips parted, lewd moans and whimpers slipping out. he knew how much you needed this, how much you’ll thank him when he’s done. he knows you’ve never had sex, never even had a boyfriend before. how? the walls are thin, obviously.

ben’s fingers suddenly stopped, causing you to finally open your eyes. “please,” you whined. he simply chuckled. he swiftly switched their positions, having you straddle his one thigh with her chest against his. he reveled in the innocent, teary-eyed look you gave him—unsure, embarrassed, utterly aroused. as much as he wanted to rush it and use you dry, he decided to let you feel something to get you started. “have you ever touched yourself, sweetheart?”

your face immediately glowed red, eyes darting everywhere but to his. of course, you knew what touching yourself meant, how it would work, why people did it. but you had always been too academically focussed, shielded by family, or even too oblivious to have done such things. and by the time you were finally exposed to everything, it had felt too late, so you didn’t bother. but hearing the question come from ben felt shameful, you were unsure what the right answer would be. whether to lie or not.

ben waited a moment, two moments, before grabbing your throat. “i asked you a question, sweetheart.” you let out a struggled sigh and shook your head slowly. he grinned, and pulled your neck to lay a kiss on your forehead. of course, he was so glad you hadn’t. that you hasn’t been spoiled and was all for him to teach.

pulling off his shirt, he propped you on the middle of his thigh. he slightly moved your hips back and forth, showing you what it feels like. you let out a sigh, clearly liking the feeling. even without your noises, ben could feel your slick through the clothes that separate you both. “that feel good, huh? keep going,” he ordered.

you gave a hesitant nod before slowly grinding against his thigh. you let out a low groan, realizing how good it felt. you began to pick up the pace, humping on him like a dog in heat. your hands find their place on his chest to keep balance, and ben’s hands find their way to your breasts once again. he discards your bra, letting it join the discarded clothes on the ground. he snaked one hand around your back, pushing you harder on his thigh in an act of guidance. he slouched his back to bring your nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue against the now bare skin.

you let out a whimper, back arching into him, letting your hands tug at his hair. your hips roll on him desperately, feeling a knot in your stomach. “fuck! fuck! please, please daddy,” you moan. ben let out a growl at the name you’d given him, applying his thumb to press against your clit. “let it out, sweetheart, c’mon.” and that you do with eyes rolling back and mouth slacked open. your hips stutter but ben helps by stimulating your clit to help ride out your orgasm.

he doesn’t stop circling your clit, however, causing you to twitch and whimper. “p-please, s’t-too much!” your body curled up and try to push his hand away, but ben doesn’t let up. he bites your nipple, causing you to scream. your sobs make ben let out a laugh.

“please! p-please, stop, it h-hurts… i-i can’t take it!” your arms snaked around his neck in a hug, your cries loud in his ear. he revelled in it.

he leaves your cunt, and wraps his arms around your waist, attempting to soothe you. “you’re beautiful, so beautiful.”

you sniffle and pull back, staring into his eyes, faces mere inches apart. your doe-like eyes are tearful, with snot starting to leak down her nose, it was gross, but ben loved it.

“did I do good?” you whispered hesitantly.

he smiled, “so good, doll.” you mirrored his smile, “really?”

he breathed a laugh, taking your hand in his and guiding it to his clothed erection. he held your hand there as his other pushed the back of your head close. with his mouth to your ear, he whispered, “look what you do to me, sweetheart.” you gasped.

ben guided your hand up and down his girthy member, applying pressure to the fingers, letting you squeeze him. stifling a groan, he let go of your hand. he undressed himself entirely, allowing his throbbing erection free to slap against his lower stomach.

you studied his cock, mouth watering at the sight. it was huge, thick with veins bulging across it. his pubes were trimmed elegantly, making you wonder what he was preparing for? your stomach fluttered at the thought of you being the one he was expecting.

“touch it,” he murmured, slightly adjusting his hips into a more comfortable position. you whimpered as he moved, still sensitive clit gaining a small amount of friction. your legs tightly wrapped around his bare thigh, trying hardest not to move. you gave him a worried look, which he immediately understood. “it’s okay, just touch it, i’ll guide you,” he reassured.

you let out a shaky breath and nodded, smaller hands wrapping around his cock. not knowing what you were doing, you started twisting the skin, causing an uncomfortable groan to leave ben’s lips. he quickly grabbed your hands, causing you to panic. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry!”

ben was starting to lose his patience, but he tried his best to mask it. “it’s alright, sweetheart. just let me show you, yeah?” he held your hand in his as he wrapped them around his dick. slowly gathering his leaking pre-cum, he started to pump himself with your hand.

“like this, okay, doll? up and down. you understand?” he toyed. he squeezed your hand around him, pumping faster, more erratic. you nodded furiously, “yes, i understand. i want to make you feel good,” you said, eyes glued to his bright red tip that emerged every time your hand slid down. ben groaned, his head falling back, and his hand leaving yours. “go on then, help your dad out. you want to be my good girl, don’t you, sweetheart?”

you let out a moan, and began to pump his cock as he had taught you. “yes-yeah. i wanna be your good girl.” you grew determined to make him feel good, so you added another hand to pump him. ben smirked, snaking his free hand to squeeze your breasts. “yeah, doll. you’re so good, look how good you make me feel. such a good girl.”

your head spun from the constant praise and his hands kneading your perked tits. your hands slowed on his cock, before picking up the pace, going faster than ever.

“i want to cum in you, doll. so let’s save me for a bit, okay?” he cooed, pulling your hands off his shaft. you nodded. your mind has been nothing but hazy for the night, arousal clouding over your better judgement. the fact that this was her best friend’s father, lingered in the back of your mind. but you were too far gone, too drunk on the pleasures he brought.

ben swiftly sat up and pushed you against the bed on your back. he pulled apart your legs, though you had to stretch out more as he was so much more larger than you. you let out a whine as he pressed against your sensitive core.

he struggled to control himself as he saw your swollen, puffy cunt. it looked perfect, smelled perfect, too. your arousal leaked down between your cheeks, coated in a shiny gloss.

he decided to tease you, needing to break you fully. to ruin you. he sensually massaged your inner thigh, gliding his thumb so close to your needy cunt. “look at you, so dirty,” he whispered, “you need me so bad, say it. beg me to fuck you dry.” he blew a breath to your cunt, making you shiver and moan.

“p-please, i need you so bad. i need you in me so bad. please, i need this.” you begged.

without further warning, ben slammed into you, not being able to contain himself any longer. you let out a scream, back instinctively arching, chest pressing against his. you felt so full, so warm. it hurt, but you pushed through.

he let out a grunt, feeling your virgin cunt tight around him. he grabbed onto your throat, pulling you to meet his lips.

you roughly kissed—you mostly not knowing what you’re doing, but ben didn’t care. his tongue entered your mouth, assaulting yours. his hand around your throat made it hard to breathe, and you let out exasperated pants and whimpers.

leaving your mouth, he travelled down your neck to your perked nipples; he enveloped one with his mouth, and used his hand to play with the other. all while his thrusts continued to meet your hips, his cock basically abusing your cervix. you moaned wildly, back arching and legs squirming.

“so fucking good. you’re just a good fucking girl, aren’t you? You’re dad’s good girl, say it.”

your eyes rolled back, mouth dropping open as he began to rub his thumb over your throbbing clit. you began to buck your hips into him, the pleasure overwhelming. you needed release, to feel how you felt when you rode his thigh, but something told you this would be a much better orgasm.

ben’s teeth around your nipple snaps you back into reality. “t-that hurts!” he doesn’t give up, waiting for your words. he applied more pressure, revelling in the way you squirmed.

“please! im daddy’s good girl, i am!” you moan as the pain started to turn into pleasure. ben took note of it, chuckling against you. “look at you, so dirty. you’re so desperate for daddy, arent you? you close, doll? you wanna cum around your dad’s thick cock?”

you shut your eyes tight, drool leaking down the side of your mouth, snot dripping down your nose. “yes, please. i need to cum so bad. i’m so, so close!”

ben’s thrusts become animalistic, fucking you raw, so hard that he thinks there may be blood. his heavy balls slap against your ass, “you gonna milk me dry, sweetheart? milk me with that tight, virgin pussy? well… it’s not anymore,” he laughed.

you moaned, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him close. your bare chests flush against each other. “oh—fuck. it’s too much!”

your head fell back as your body jerked violently. you exploded around him with a scream. “fuck! oh, my god.”

your desperate cries and pulsing core pushed ben over the edge, his cock twitching in you before releasing ropes of hot seed. he pushed himself into you as far as he could go, wanting—no—needing to fill your womb. “fuck, sweetheart. you’re such a good fucking girl, sucking my cock in so hard, so greedy.”

he thrusted in a few more times, pushing his seed deeper in you, before pulling out. he watched your gaping hole as it clenched around nothing, some of his cum spilling out. he admired his work, watching your bruised cunt spasm.

he let out a chuckle, and leaned down to press his lips against your forehead. “you did so well, doll. such a good girl,” he whispered. he moved down and began to place kisses over your face. cheeks, nose, lips. he realized how tired and worn out you looked, eyes half-lidded as you fell in and out of consciousness. “rest up, little one, tomorrow i want to teach you something more exciting.”

he'd "accidentally" hold ur hips when you walk by him in the hallway, and that'd move to soft touches on ur ass, to groping you. you're too shy to speak up, and you honestly don't want to. you want to see how far he'll go.

he'll walk into your room uninvited. he's done it while you're in the bathroom, too. on multiple occasions he's walked in while youre naked or changing, just to see your face get hot. he barely says sorry, just a smirk and a cocky 'oops' while his eyes linger.

when he knows your mom won't see bc shes at work or out of the house, he corners you and pulls back your bra strap or panties waistband to let it slap painfully against your skin. he buys you lingerie and tiny pieces of clothes to wear for him, even tells you how he wants you to style your hair or do your makeup for the day. it makes you feel like a doll.

whenever he buys you clothes, he forces u to show them off for him in a little fashion show 💗 makes u bend over in the lingerie, maybe pulls out one of his old cameras to take pics of u with

he calls u a pussy when u tear up after he presses a kiss to the back of your neck. u know in the back of your head that this is wrong. but you can't help but allow him to keep taking advantage of you.

what he does do when your mom's around is call you a "good girl" when you bring him a beer or a lighter.

“Look at ‘ya,” Ben grunts, watching you grind down on his lap, little skirt riding up your thighs as you rotate your hips. He had your legs bracketing his thighs, big hands rubbing your soft skin. A wicked smile adorns his lips. Ben’s eyes are narrow slits, green eyes swirling with hunger. “Little fuckin’ patriot.”

Ben was sitting propped up against a lawn chair in your backyard. His long legs were stretched straight out, boots planted firmly on the ground. Spurts of colors painted phantasmagoric images across the night sky, the booming sounds of fireworks ricocheting off the Earth. The lights bathed Ben’s face in red and blue shadows. He looked in his element– America’s colors bouncing off his skin. 

It was the 4th of July- a holiday that Ben took seriously. He’d spent the day telling Hughie and Butcher stories from war and what the trenches were like. He recounted how he’d filled a commie with lead, only stopping when the magazine of his gun was empty. He lounged around on the couch and snapped at Butcher whenever he asked him to do something– using the excuse of how he fought for the country to be free. It was another Veterans day for him. 

Ben nodded as your hands pawed at his chest, whimpering his name softly. “Please.. Ben, please.” Need had pooled between your legs, leaving a wet patch on his sweatpants right over his crotch. 

His hand left your thigh to grab the bottle of beer sat next to him, hand gripping the neck of the bottle. He took a leisurely swig. Grinned when you ground your clothed pussy down onto the outline of his cock. He watched how you withered over him, hips bucking and twitching. 

“Ready to thank me, baby?” He asked, setting his beer back down. His eyes glanced down at your figure, holding a sort of power in his gaze that never failed to make you shiver. “Fought for this fuckin’ country. Deserve some fuckin’ gratefulness for slaughtering them fuckin’ commies.” 

Ben’s hand bunches up your jean skirt, thumb rubbing your clit through your panties. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you. A whimper falls past your lips, feeling yourself flutter and clench around nothing. When you nod, hips jerking as you chase for friction, Ben coos softly. 

He helps you get his cock free from his sweats, pulling it from the slit in the front. You made a mental note to thank whatever high up above for him being allergic to wearing underwear. His cock is large in your hands, thick and heavy. The crown is flushed a deep shade of pink, twitching as you stroke up the length.

Like you were staring down at your favorite food, you felt your mouth water at the sight of it. You knew what would come next. You knew the delicious stretch of your cunt around him would feel like heaven. Every nerve inside your body felt frayed, anticipation bubbling through your veins and clouding your mind.

Ben leans back and grabs his beer, looking down at you without another word. His gaze is predatorial as he watches you peel your panties to the side. He brings the bottle to his lips as you line him up to your entrance, taking a long swig as you sink down on him. 

“That’s it, jus’ like that. Bounce on that cock.” His words are slow as he watches you find a rhythm, hips rising and falling and rolling around him. “Earnin’ those stripes, huh slut?”

If you thought Ben was big in your hand, the looks of him was an extreme understatement to him inside you. He stretched your cunt out, thick length splitting you open. Just sitting on him, filled up to the brim, the tip of his cock was kissing your cervix. Your walls clenched around him, the stretch bordering on painful. But every inch felt like magic as he nudged himself further inside. 

“Fuck! Ben.. so full.” You mumbled your words as your hips rocked, starting a sloppy rhythm. Your eyes had fluttered shut, focusing only on the immense pleasure each glide of his cock in your cunt brought exploding through your nerves. 

Ben’s grunting is barely heard over the clamoring of crackles and booms coming from the sky. His free hand slithers behind your back to slap your ass each time you sink down. It’s not a little love tap– it’s a cracking smack that is sure to leave a handprint on your asscheek.

A mewl leaves your lips as you slip and slide on his cock, chasing after that sweet release. Ben laughs as he watches you try and fail to keep up with the tempo. He watches with faux sympathy before he slams his hips up, length pistoning into you. 

His pace is wild. Animalistic. He lets his now empty beer bottle clatter to the ground, hands gripping knot your hips. His hands ignite a fire in your skin, burning all the way down to your bones. He guides you forcefully until you’re babbling and your body goes limp.

“Fuckin’ perfect little pussy.” His voice is rough like gravel, shooting fireworks of pleasure rattling your ears. His grasp is bruising, skin tingling as he slams your hips down against his. “squeezin’ me s’well. shit, I’d fight another million fuckin’ commies just to feel this cunt ‘gain.”

The coil in your abdomen feels tightened, every stroke of his length hurdling you closer to the edge. Every ridge and vein of his cock was indented into your cunt, absolutely ruining you for anyone else. This moment— when Ben’s watching your greedy pussy welcome his cock every time he rutted his hips up into you— was better than winning a damn war. 

“Rub that fuckin’ clit, doll.” The command fell from his lips easily, voice smooth as whiskey. “Fuckin’ cum on my cock, you little cockslut.”

Your fingers trembled as they found their place nestled between your folds, rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your eyes fluttered closed. Just focusing on how good everything felt. 

You came in tandem with the last boom from the fireworks show, light exploding in the sky as light exploded behind your eyes. It was messy— cunt dripping down the length of him. Walls squeezing him so tight he shot up into you, his mark painting your cervix. 

“Happy fuckin’ Independence Day.” He groaned, cock twitching inside of you. 

Your body slumped against him, chest heaving as you crashed down from your high. Every light seemed brighter, every crackle louder, and every pass of Ben’s hand up and down your back had you shivering. 

This 4th of July would be one for the books. 

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