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nekassvariigs · 1 year

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Intentionally calling them husband in scenarios, heres how it goes

part two

Luffy, Sabo, Katakuri, Zoro, Sanji ,Smoker, Roger, Shanks, Eustass Kid

part three will feature Robin, Whitebeard, Marco, Ben Beckmann, Franky, Brook, Mihawk.

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Luffy

Save him please someone.

"Argh i refuse!" he'd snarl pointy teeth showing as he yells.

''But Luffy, you'd be a great husband." you protest making him only more irritated.

"I'm not marrying anyone!'' he slaps his hands on the table, steam blowing form his nose, you pout a little with this fake facade.

You walk over to the kitchen taking out a well cooked meat dish. ''Here i made something for you."

His nose is like a hounds when it comes to meat. "Wacha got there." he's already clanking forks against the table as you set it in front of him.

"If you eat this, you'll be my husband."

He completely ignores your joke, dropping forks aside he takes the food with his hands, chewing the delicious meal.

"So good! Oi Y/n ,I want more, moreee!" he'd whine not even finishing the first set his eyes sparkling wide as he looks at you.

''Oh whatever." you completely lose against him, his obliviousness compares with no one when it comes to this.

He thanks you for the food, licking his mouth from the crumbs, you show him another one.

''Shishishi" he cackles loudly and before you notice the food is long gone.

"Luffy!'' you shout watching him swallow quickly, you're left defeated.

''At least enjoy it you ape.." you wail silently watching him brisk past you.

''Maybe I should consider, aah who knows, but the food is too good.'' he speaks to himself arms behind his head and a large smile.

If you haven't ever experienced a Boa Hancock moment now you understand what it is about.

Sabo

''Isn't this a little sudden?'' he asks.

The two of you lying on the couch whilst watching a movie, not that the movie was bad but somehow Sabo started talking about random things trying to get to know a bit more of your mind until the topic game to be about marriage, you asked him what he thought about being called husband and this was his response.

"Were not getting married Sabo, it's just a question, what do you think?'' his arm pulled back a little from holding onto you , his elbow rested on the couch, hand still on your back he traced light circles.

''Well putting it this way.." he looked in thought his blonde hair falling over his eyes you couldn't help to brush it away, his gaze softly falling on you he smiled into the touch.

"I don't hate it, matter of fact, im open to it."

"Really?''

"Yeah, I mean you've called me D-"

"Ah shut up." You covered his mouth the apples of his cheeks growing as he gently bit into your palm.

You blushed a little, man this guy can be such a tease sometimes.

He pulled your hand away from his mouth, continuing.

"Well, do it." He smiled, his blue eyes flickering form the movie that flashed by beside you two.

''You're my husband." you stated shyly blinking many times as you watched him clench his heart.

"Oh this hits right in the feels." he faked pain falling over onto your lap.

You laughed at his antics, if there's anyone that can difuse the feeling of embarrassment faster its this guy. He laid back on your lap, your hand wandering lazily in his hair, you smiled at him.

His hand reached over to your cheek he pulled you forward, his nose gently rubbing against yours he pressed a lingering kiss.

Katakuri

He's a rather secluded person so you mainly hanged out around his sister, Brulee was the sweetest older sister you could ask for always offering you tea and sweets her genuine heart never wavering. You two had an ongoing joke about her brother the two of you kept codenaming him ''husband'' so your conversations would usually go with her staring a conversation like this. "So y/n, how's the husband?" she chuckled her smile lighting up the room. "He's a delight really we went shopping the other day and let me tell you how hard it is to find something that he'd even remotely hate, he loves everything! I'm starting to think it's impossible to make him mad.'' you sighed, not that you had real intentions of getting the big giant mad, you just wanted to see if he'd ever change his character, no matter how long you were at the store trying on every piece of clothing to waste time, he sat patiently the large scarf covering his mouth he always waited for you with a warm smile giving his opinions on the outfits. Brulee smirked '' He's a very kind person so even I cant see him being unsupportive."

"I know right, its like everything he does always turns out to be even better than he intended!" you flailed your arms a slight frown forming on your brows. The door peered open a rather tall figure coming through he welcomed himself in with a smile, setting some sweet buns on the table, they steamed with a gnetle delicious scent of sesame , rice and hints of familiar mango filling.

"Thank you dear." you smiled to the man as he stepped forth to take off the large scarft, his pointy teeth always caught your gaze.

you continued your conversation with brulee,katakuri sitting by your side as he bit into the sweet bun.

The two of you kept speaking about a certain husband and he for the life of him couldnt understand to who were you reffering to with such familiarity.

''Who are you two talking about?'' he chewed the sweet looking between you two.

"You.'' you quickly replied continiuing your conversation with his sister until she stopped her eyes wide as she looked at you.

You had a quizzical expression on your face and then it clicked, your face flared up red with brulee watching the sweetest smile on her face, you avoided looking at katakuri to save your life.

No need to worry, the large man was barely able to continue eating his desert, a humble red spread over his ears he pinched the bridge of his nose for the longest time. It was for the longest time he thought you were talking about someone else every time you chatted with his sister he thought you were chatting about another man you had spotted wandering onto the island. Now it made sense to him, the words repeating in his mind he groaned setting the pastry on the table, he never pictured himself to be called that , he was barely able to get used to boyfriend so you tended to switch it up very often.

You cleared your throat watching the fluster on his face , your hand reached over to take his , you were met with a comfortable squeeze.

"You two will be the death of me." he sighed a large toothy grin over his face. The two of you were left a laughing mess offering him some tea as an apology for the long confusion along with the sudden surprise.

Zoro

He asked for you to sit on his back while he was working out, you hesitated at first thinking that he's going a little too far, he reassured you there's nothing to be afraid of as he can easily sling over 100 kgs without ease.

''If you say so.." He steadied himself into a plank waiting for you to find a comfortable place over him.

"Ready?"

''Yep." you popped the p feeling your balance loose itself as you held onto waist each time he neared the ground.

You couldn't hold your amusement, he was way stronger than you imagined, your weight seemed to barely affect him as he did his push ups with ease. ''15..16..17.." you counted in your mind your but flat against his lower back.

"Have you asked anyone else to do this while you train?'' you had to know, there's no way he'd be so comfortable with a whole human on his back like this.

"Yeah, I asked," he panted between pushes, you could feel each time his body took an inhale of breath. "Luffy, but he's so light it wasn't even a challenge." sweat dripped down his forehead onto the ground before him creating a little array of a puddle.

"Anyone else?''

He took his time answering this time focusing on his form before he spoke up again, the silence was pleasant, although you were a little worried reminding yourself as you rode on his back that he was still training.

" I think I asked Usopp after that, though he wasn't better than Luffy."

He breathed a little heavier taking some time to stop between curls, to steady his breathing.

"You alright? I can hop off if it's too much." you wondered not wanting for him to collapse with extra weight on him.

"Stay, you're good." he continued with a regained sense of will, crushing through the next 50 push ups.

You grew comfortable on his back having adjusted to the rhythm.

Your hands slid lower on his waist as you lowered your back against his, your concentrated weight now laying flat over him, your head on the back on his neck, just enough so it wouldn't bother him.

He puffed heavier reaching triple digits, his muscles slowly grew sore but he pushed through with a slight sense to impress you.

''Y/n , you up there? Is Zoro with you?'' Chopper asked under the stairs you responded loudly.

''Yep, my hubby's right here!'' there was a quick silence as Zoro's eyes widened under you, not that you could see.

''Okaay! Dinners gonna be ready soon!'' he informed before walking to do help out.

The weight shifted under you, his hand held you in place, as you leaned slightly to his right, he was doing single handed push ups.

"Hey, don't you think that's a bit extreme?'' you told him, as he continued to meet ground confidently.

''Nah." His hand held comfortably on your waist a while longer until he switched sides, the name lingering in his mind. A while later he was dripping wet, you could feel your own shirt soaking in his sweat he gestured you to hop off.

''Here." you handed him some water, he turned to his side his face not meeting yours he drank, chest rising with each sip you admired his well toned back with a silent whistle.

It surprised him, the feeling of your eyes on him made him a little shy, hince the reason he refused to turn around for so long.

You walked up to him, head leaning over his shoulders to have a look at his face. He had spaced out for a bit , a blush covering his upper face you smiled in awe.

''Yeoow, Tell your hubby to move it! Foods done!" you heard Franky call for you, Zoro's face eyes twitching at the mention of this nickname.

Your smile grew wider as you poked his face.

''Were you pulling those stunts because of me?'' you smirked making his eyes open to look at you with the blush on his face still wildly present.

"No.." he spoke softly, his crossed arms unwinding he slipped one around your waist with a serious yet pleading look.

''Don't tell anyone.." you chuckled silently at his words, resting your head on his shoulder.

''Come on, food will get cold.'' he guided you to head down, following closely as everyone greeted you.

During dinner you gave him a look, mouthing the nickname again, he ate his food not saying anything, the tips of his ears were red no matter how much he tried to deny it.

He liked the nickname despite the silence.

Sanji

''Sanji, come here a moment." You ushered the sweetheart over, he waltzed towards you with his signature spin stopping behind you to peer over what you were looking for.

A bunch of jewelry, shining red white, pink and blue all sorts of jewels shined under the display lights. "What's up? Do you need money?''

''Hmm no, give me your hand." you vaguely looked at his hand, his slim fingers flexing before you, a trail of smoke winding in the air.

You offered his hand to the jeweler he took measurements of his ring finger, whilst Sanji watched, if this was an idea for a gift this was the worst way to ask for a ring size, he could of just told you if you asked.

''8.5 centimeters miss." The shop keep informed you of the size.

''Thought as much, could i see the rings over there?'' you pointed under the display, Sanji curiously watching over your shoulder like a cat.

"Of course, for gifts we suggest these as they aren't that flashy and will accentuate the hands well." He smiled pulling out a ring form its holdings handing it over to you.

You turned Sanji's hand so his palm would face you your warm hand meeting with his rather cold and meek one.

"What's wrong Sanji? Your hands are cold." you asked watching him puff smoke in the shapes of hearts, his cheeks a brisk red.

"Hm? Oh I didn't think you'd be the type to buy men jewelry.'' He watched as you slipped the ring on his finger, a slim silver band sitting low on his finger it looked rather pretty but a little too slim for him.

You took it off clasping the metal you handed over it the shop keep.

"How about this one?'' you showed to a thicker ring, the polish on it shining beautifully.

"Good choice miss." he commented handing you the ring.

You took the cigarette from Sanjis lips between your middle and pointer finger holding the ring in your thumb and ring finger you slipped it on taking a slow drag from the white wrapped cigarette.

Sanji watched with deep curiosity, he loved when you did these subtle yet intimate things, his heart beat with a deep flame as he watched you puff out a streak of grey smoke. His lower lip slightly trembling at the sight.

"What do you think?'' You spoke calmly watching him gulp as his eyes wandered to the ring, he twirled it around with his thumb checking if it wasn't going to bother him whilst he was cooking.

''It's good, won't bother me if I wear it for a long time." You smiled taking on another drag of his cigarette. A pleasant smirk laying on your features as you thought about what you're going to say next.

''This isn't typically a thing to take off Sanji." you smiled brushing a hand over his cheek, the lit cigarette dangerously close to his face, protected by your hand.

His heart dropped at the mention.

''She doesn't m-mean.." he thought to himself. Your confident yet seductive gaze at him only confirmed his thoughts, he swallowed slowly, his face plastered in a red blush, you laughed.

''Is this a prop-proposal!?'' his eyes beat out of his face he practically shouted in the most excited way.

You chuckled sweetly, the shop keep blushing at the sight of you two.

''Well take this one then" You smiled handing him money. Your gaze towards Sanji you put a hand on his shoulder whispering.

''I might as well make you a husband, dear.''

Oh boy.. the red that ripped down his nose way quite something, you handed him a hanker chief dropping the cigarette on the nearby ashtray the shop keep kept, you laced your hand with his walking out the shop Sanji followed with a light stumble every now and then walking a few steps behind you as you lead him. His head was so ready to burst with all the imagines of the two of you holding a ceremony rose petals flying and everything.

''My those two are something." the shop keep chuckled watching an overly flustered male leave with his sweetheart in hand.

Smoker

Word seemed to get around around you and the cloudy vice admiral, because of his strict work nature and your dedication people started calling you the type to be married only to two things each other and work, the two of you never met much aside from when it was time to deliver some justice, men practically fangirled when the two of you appeared fighting along each other.

''What's wrong with all of you, there's work to be done!'' Smoker shouted to his underlings as you walked beside him.

''There she is, aren't they the best.." the guys swooned as you stood hands on your hips along Smoker, his cigars burning weak smoke you offered him a light, his face leaning to the fire you provided the guys waited in anticipation for something to happen.

''Got a problem guys?'' you smiled meanly, Smoker puffing on his cigars to light them fully.

''None at all!!'' they all waved their hands with sheepish smiles.

''This is getting a little out of hand.." he looked at you smoke puffing from his face.

''You don't say." you laughed, something you did only around him according to every fanboy out there.

''Look look she's smiling again'' they blushed, a vein popping on Smokers face from this foolery.

''Go do something you idiots!" he knew the rookies had nothing better to do but it beat oogling at you two every second they could.

'' I'm going to HQ if you need something you know where to find me." with the use of his devil fruit and a long streak of smoke he disappeared from your sights.

You chuckled closing the door to his office with your body, Smokers head deep into his papers.

"It's crazy out there." you stood there hand's behind your back as you leaned on the door. Smoker hummed listening to you. ''You don't think we should do something about this?'' you walked over to his desk sitting across him, the single cigar set down in the ash tray he finally pulled his head out of the mountains of papers before him.

''Why should we? It does nothing for us." he stated slicking back his hair you squinted at the sight.

"You enjoy being my fictitious husband that much?" you smiled watching his eyes slowly running over you face, a little shit eating grin plastered on your face, you subsided it once you saw his cheeks redden a little as he resumed his smoke hiding the embarrassment.

"You're kidding right?!'' he winced closing his eyes , a hand clenching under the desk. Just dont laugh, it wasn't supposed to come off this way, but there was no better way for him to answer.

''..'' He was silent as he opened his eyes staring at you through his brows.

It was your turn to return the blush, as you laid back on the chair placing a cold towel over your forehead.

''Those brats..'' you sighed pinching the bridge of your nose you rose your head letting the towel fall to your lap.

Once his work was done he decided to treat you to some tea in the lounge, the two of you passed by a couple of marines on your way, you calmly took his hand in your watching as one spit water behind you, you turned your head looking at them with a knowing smile. Smokers eyes glancing over at your hand he picked up the pace dragging you along a bit faster, you laughed turning your face back to the blushy vice admiral.

Eustass Kid

You watched as Kid toyed around his arm, tightening bolts and sautering wires it looked surreal to just think how it operated.

"Kid what do you think about marriage." you asked him out of the blue never approaching this topic with him before. The mean look on his face grew as he barked at you. " What marriage?! It's annoying to just think about it." Whilst true he had a lot on his plate in the current situation, he wanted to beat Kaido for beating his ass so badly the dumbest of reds showed on his face as he threw some bolts at you making you hide behind a flipped table.

"Get out, you're annoying!'' He puffed slamming his fist on the table, bolts creaking on his arm as he attempted to move it.

"Look at what you did!'' You checked his arm watching smoke and sparks come from it you chuckled a bit. ''You can fix that cant you?'' you pointed at it making him growl back, ''Of course, it's gonna take a shit ton of time because of you though." he held a mean glare toward you. ''Okay okay I get it, I'm sorry." you raised your hands in defeat watching him sigh.

'' Don't stand there, you're helping out now." he waited for you to come closer bringing over all sorts of random tools with you, the two of you worked for a long while, trying to fix all the errors you caused.

As much as he kept focusing on his work, his eyes sometimes wandered to your face watching how you inspected his work. The dumb glint in your eyes as you followed his each move broke the silence.

"I guess it can't hurt.." he admitted his ears a little red.

"Hm?'' you turned to took at him while he was avoiding your gaze with a little sweat dropping down his brow.

"Nothing, pay attention." he moved your face with the back of his knuckle, your side eye stared at his preoccupied thought filled expression, with a wide smirk you pushed his hand back with your face, the longer you stared the longer he stiffened up.

"What?'' his clad orange eyes peered down on you.

You smiled not saying a word.

''You'd make the finest fucking husband." you spoke up suddenly staring right at him with a wide smirk.

He rolled his head throwing it back before he snapped at you.

"GET OUT WILL YOU." he threw an oiled cloth at you watching you scatter out of his room with haste.

Hand over his mouth he stared long at his arm, his eyes wide without a sense of reality, the embarrassed blush covering his face he could no longer work on the repairs.

Shanks

''Hubby am i right on this ?" You were bickering with Ben for the longest time, the stubborn first mate would not bend under your will even if you bribed him with millions.

Shanks turned around with a cheeky look on his face he overheard the entirety of the conversation between you two, you were in the wrong however he wanted to mess around with something else first.

"Hubby?'' he asked whipping around the bar stool one leg over the other he laid his hand behind the counter in a rather confidant way.

"Come on Shanks who's right.'' you blurted out continuing to one over Ben whos scowl only grew the longer you didn't agree with him.

He watched with a glimmer in his eyes calling out your name.

"Hubby~" he smirked watching as you processed the information.

''Argh what the hell! Yes Ben your point is right! Shanks youre dead!" you stormed forward to the captian pinching his nose.

"I call you one silly nickname and you dont leave it alone." you scolded him watching him stifle a laugh as he pushed you to his side with his only arm.

You didn't look him in the face knowing he'd give you a shit eating grin.

"Let go!'' you peeled at his hands , his grip strong as he got in your face with a whisper.

"I refuse~" the gravel in his tone, along the way he looked at you, it was only a matter of time before you shot him a glance.

You looked over at him quickly regretting that instantly.

"There you are." the sultry tone in his voice never leaving as he leaned in his lips hovering just above yours, barely a touch.

He waits for you, with a small smile tugging on his lips. He was pleasantly surprised when you tugged on his collar a rather harsh kiss deepening against his.

Roger

You brought up the topic suddenly the hearty laugh form him was as much as when you did your usual babbling with him.

"Husband, me?'' he snorted between baited breaths.

You felt a little dumb standing in front of him as he laughed his large hat tipping on his head.

'Never hurts to try something once now does it?" He showed you a warm smile once his laughter stopped, you didn't expect him to be so agreeable to something like this.

''I cant figure out if you're serious or joking." you pouted as he guided you to the end of his ship.

''If you want the world, I'll get it for you.'' he clenched his first around thin air, right along your chest as he leaned into hug your shoulder, a bewildered stare darting between his face and hand you didn't even think about the possibility.

"I can't bring you a big ceremony, but if you want the life of a wanted criminal on your hands I can't go denying yours dreams now can I?''

''Guys prepare for a celebration!'' he shouted over his shoulder, every man standing at a halt.

''Your captains getting married!'' he wasted no time jumping assumptions.

"R-Roger wait, now?!'' you pushed a hand on his chest which he took into his with a knowing look.

"No time like the present no?'' He smirked, his teeth flashing in the bright sun.

He didn't even take time to consider something like this...

''I thought it over don't be stupid." Its like he read your mind, he pointed to his crew gazing down at you.

"They're a handful, but take care of them will you?"

"Like that's new.." you chuckled, still baffled by his words.

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welldonebeca · 8 months

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The Triplets (9)

WC: 4.3k words Warnings: Smut. Foursome. Dirty talking. Fluff. Voyeurism. Brotherly competition. A bit of exhibitionism. Praising kink. Threesome. Multiple orgasms. Sloppy seconds/thirds. Some ass slapping. Anal play. Degrading kink. Sex pictures. Video taping. Daddy kink. Uncle kink. Rough sex. Aftercare. Cuddling. Unsafe sex.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

The moment they stepped inside, Ben was already pulling Lizzie to him, big hands possessive as they grabbed her waist, and she gasped in surprise before Beau scooped her up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder.

"Hey!" his brother protested.

"Talking, Ben," he walked to the couch. "That's what we are doing."

She couldn't even protest as he carried her away, leaving him huffing.

"I got blue balls now, you know?" he asked. "It's very serious."

"Good thing both your hands function," Dean quipped. "And you can use them."

Beau carried Lizzie to the living room, and brought her down to the same stupid couch where everything happened, placing her on his lap.

"Shouldn't I get dressed?" she asked, fidgeting in the big hoodie and little shorts she'd managed to put on.

But he placed his hand around her waist and kissed her shoulder.

"It's fine," he assured her. "We just want to talk, okay?"

The other two sat down, and she could see Ben pouting as they fell into silence, and she couldn't quite pick who she was even looking at.

"Well..." Dean spoke slowly. "Hm."

Beau rubbed her thigh gently.

"You should know," he spoke gently. "That if you don't want anything with us. That if you ever feel like this isn't a relationship you want to get into, you don't have to do so."

"We don't expect sex as rent, that's what he means," Ben crossed his arms. "Those are different things."

She nodded. Lizzie knew that already! They were good people, good men!

They would never, ever, force her into anything. She was the problem!

"I know," she assured them. "I just... I need you to know you guys don't need to do anything! You don't need to pretend for me!"

Beau squeezed her.

"Pretend?" he asked.

She looked back at him.

"You're brothers," Lizzie reminded them. "And I don't want to stand between you, I don't want you to think you have to pretend you are alright with anything I do, because I'm a guest in your house and one of your brothers might like me!"

She turned to face Ben and Dean.

"The way I feel..." she took in a deep breath. "I wish I could say one of you makes me feel this way, but it is not true. All of you do, and I know it is so wrong and-"

"Bullshit," Ben interrupted her.

Lizzie deflated and Beau stiffened behind her, his grip turning protective.

"I know, it's hard to understand," she told him. "But my feelings..."

"Not your feelings," he stopped. "Your feelings make sense. Them being wrong? That's bullshit."

He leaned closer to her, green eyes hard and so certain it made her shiver.

"I want to be with you, Dean wants to be with you, Beau wants to be with you," he listed. "You want to be with us. Everyone is an adult, everyone is sober, everyone is mentally... not too bad."

Dean chuckled by his side.

"What is stopping us?" Ben asked.

Lizzie looked an answer, but gasped when he stood, grabbed her face and kissed her.

She got wet right there and then.

Well, it wasn't like she wasn't already from being fucking in the kitchen, but being kissed by him while on Beau's lap and with Dean watching?

Yes, it was something extra.

"I thought we were here to talk," Dean spoke very loudly.

"We are," Beau growled behind her. "Do you think of anything but sex?"

But someone tugged on her shirt, pulling it up, and she gasped when Ben moved up to her tits, caressing her nipples with rough thumbs.

"Can you, when she looks so pretty when she is turned on?" he pulled back, speaking against her hips.

Beau moved under her, as if to move her away, and she stood up, pressing her chest to Ben's hands.

"Lizzie," he called behind her.

Ben pinched her nipple, tugging on it, and she moaned.

"Please," she whined.

She hadn't even cum!

"You wanna be all high and mighty, then check for yourself," Ben commanded. "Pull those little shorts, check if she's enjoying it."

But she pulled away from him, and Ben and Beau followed her with their eyes and she stood before them, and Lizzie tried her best to look sexy as she moved her hands to her shirts and pushed them down, stripping for them.

Could she make a little show with two pieces? She could try.

The three watched her silently, and she took in a deep breath before pulling off the big sweatshirt, and Dean inhaled when she revealed her ass.

Oh, he was still behind her, wasn't he?

Lizzie pulled it up and up, until her tits were out too, and tried to look elegant as she threw it from over her head.

She looked back at Dean, finding him licking his lips, and Ben chuckled.

"This is better than any strip show," he joked. "If only I had some ones..."

"Shut up, she's not a stripper," Beau gruffed.

She looked back at them, and they were all seated, watching.

Waiting for who would take the first step, maybe?

She was about to pick for them when she felt Dean's hand behind her, squeezing her ass and pulling her.

"Let me have my own share," he whispered into her ear.

Lizzie giggled, touching his face and turning around, kissing his lips and touching his chest.

"If you are going to hoard her, at least let us see," Ben complained.

Dean, though, pulled her to his lap, making her straddle him, and pulled Lizzie up to kiss her neck.

"You can watch her bubble ass as she bounces on my cock," he grabbed her hips.

She gasped when he moved his lips to her sensitive nipple, biting sweetly and sucking on it.

"Dean," she gasped.

His hand spread her legs, and she tried to arch her ass to the other boys.

She could hear the moment they saw her pussy, the way they inhaled in deep.

Lizzie's attention was taken back when Dean pushed his fingers into her cunt, and almost didn't hear as someone walked away.

Was everything alr-

"Fuck, you're still a little loose from Ben fucking you," he hissed. "Taking cock so well, baby... you didn't even wait for us to join you."

She whined, feeling her face hot.

Not like she knew they wanted to join.

"Did he make you feel good, baby?" he licked her other breast. "Did my dumb brother make you cum?"

She squirmed.

"Well..." Lizzie mumbled.

Dean stopped.

"What is it?" Beau asked, and she could hear him moving.

Dean pushed his fingers into her hair, making her fall with her head on his chest, and fucked her slowly with his fingers.

"He didn't make her cum!" he exclaimed, outraged.

Beau pinched her nipples.

"That won't do," he decided. "Not even getting fucked made her cream?"

She squirmed, basking in the mix of being paid such attention to, but being spoken over as if she wasn't even there.

Beau pulled her, making her stand up, and Lizzie gasped when Dean turned her around quickly.

"I guess we do need to do all the work here, hm?" Beau hummed, kissing her lips.

Lizzie melted into his arms and his sweet, sweet kiss, already, and just let him manhandle her back into Dean's lap, this time facing away from him.

She barely processed when the head of Dean's cock poked her entrance, and mewled when she felt the tip entering her.

"We're going to make you cum, pretty girl," he pulled out, rubbing his head on her clit before moving back and then pushing into her again.

Beau pulled his hand, and she whimpered when he rested his forehead on hers and reached between her legs, caressing her clit with his fingers.

Lizzie moaned loudly as his brother pushed in, filling her up quickly.

"Such a good girl," he praised, finger circling her clit a little tighter. "She swallows up cock so good."

She moaned, throwing her head back, and didn't have time to whine when Beau pulled away from her.

He knelt between her legs and when she looked down at him, the image was the most erotic thing she could have seen.

"Uncle Beau?" she asked softly.

His eyes connected with hers, and he leaned in close to her, sticking out his tongue and licking her clit like a little kitten.

"Just relax, baby girl," Dean put his hand on her waist, sitting her all the way down his thick cock. "Let us make you feel good."

He moved his hips under her, thrusts slow and deep, but Uncle Beau had his own pace.

His lips and his tongue were hungry on her clit, never leaving it, never stopping sucking and licking and playing with her, fast and hungry.

As if she could move at all between them as they did that.

Lizzie was so overstimulated, so overpleasured, she could only fucking take it.

"Fucking hell," Ben growled.

She looked opened her eyes, and he was standing a few steps away from them, watching them.

Dean held her down by her middle, and Beau squeezed her thighs.

Lizzie could only cry.

It was too fucking much.

"You couldn't make her cum," he spoke behind her. "We took over."

Ben huffed.

"I could!" he argued. "But you guys had to barge in before I even tried!"

Beau sucked on her clit harder, and her eyes nearly crossed.

Almost right after, Dean's cock brushed against her sweetest spot, and Lizzie cried out loud.

"Show him how pretty you can cum, sweetheart," he kissed her cheek.

"Fuck!"

Lizzie arched her hips, and gasped when he wrapped his hand around her neck, holding her in place.

She moaned in pleasure, that exact move making her cum.

When she opened her eyes, Ben had his phone up.

"Smile for the came, sweet girl," he walked closer to them.

Dean grabbed her thighs, fucking her deeper as Beau fucking devoured her.

God, she almost came again just like that.

"Please," she whined.

Dean squeezed her neck a little more.

"Cum again, pretty girl," he commanded. "Cum on my cock before I fill you up."

She did, shaking on top of him, and Beau only pulled away from between her legs when she was done.

He kissed her lips with deep hunger, holding her by her hair as Dean fucked her fast and hard on the chair, using her.

Dean moaned under her, and she could feel the moment he filled her up.

It was so warm and tick, so filling.

She couldn't even enjoy the feeling, though, as Beau quickly pulled her up.

He pulled her, taking her right to the couch, and Lizzie gasped when he tossed her with her belly down, pulling her hips up and nudging her entrance with his cock.

"You want me to fuck you now, pretty girl?" he purred.

"Oh, come on!" Ben walked to you, his phone not in his hand anymore. "You've already fucked her!"

Beau moved his cock, rubbing her sensitive clit, and she gasped as he did.

"So what?"

She was so fucking sensitive.

"Beau," she whined.

"I won't fuck a loose pussy after you are done," Ben protested. "You two have fucked her already and when it was my turn you two just stopped it."

Beau dipped the tip into her, as if he didn't even care, and she whined.

Suddenly, he was taken away, and she opened her eyes to find Ben stumbling back from pushing Beau away, until his brother put him in a headlock.

Fuck, she shouldn't find that hot.

And yet her pussy fluttered, empty.

Needy.

Dean chuckled, and she looked at him, finding him watching them, very amused.

He was very used to that, wasn't he?

"Whoever fucks me last can fuck me longer," she blurted out.

Lizzie only processed her words when they were already out, and Beau smirked when their eyes connected, releasing Ben.

"Well," he stood straighter. "Go on, Benny. Have your turn. I don't mind having some sloppy thirds."

She was flustered at his words, but Ben didn't care.

"Make sure to try and make her cum this time, will you?" Dean teased him.

He scoffed, moving to her, and Lizzie looked back at him as he caressed the middle of her back.

"Where were you?" she whined.

Why had he left?

He pulled two things from his pocket, and her eyes widened, showing them off to her.

A butt plug.

And lube.

"I had a little plan for you," he hummed. "But I think we'll have to wait, hm?"

She gasped when he felt his cock nudging her.

"I guess tonight you're going to be our little cum dump."

"Ben," Dean called.

Ben scoffed behind her, rubbing her up and down.

"She might be small, but she is a big girl, Dean," he purred. "She's gonna lose her ass virginity at some point. Why not let her Uncle Ben be it?"

She moaned, feeling completely pathetic as he teased her pussy, up and down, up and down, up-

"Please," she whined. "Uncle Ben. Stop teasing me!"

He chuckled, and she jumped when he moved his fingers to caress her ass.

"Ben!" Dean argued.

She whined.

"It's alright," she moaned. "Dean!"

Ben poured something warm against her ass, and she gasped in surprise.

"Wrong name, baby girl," he corrected her, giving her ass a slap.

Lizzie whined.

"You two are so fucking easy on her," he grunted. "She's a needy slut who loves being teased."

She squirmed, closing her eyes when he circled her with his finger, cock brushing against her entrance.

"Ben," she whined.

"Lizzie," he cooed back, mocking her.

Beau scoffed, sitting on the couch, close enough that he could touch her face if he wanted to.

"Just hurry up already," he grunted.

Ben moved behind her, and he tossed something onto him.

"Make yourself useful," he commanded. "Take a picture."

She looked at Beau, and he was rolling his eyes, but took the phone on his lap anyway.

"Wanna be filmed, Lizzie?" he caressed her hair.

Her cheeks burned hot.

"Yes, uncle Beau."

He smirked, and angled the phone to get her face just as Ben teased her asshole, pushing his cock into her cunt very slowly.

"Do you think Ben can fuck your little brains out?" he cooed.

Lizzie nodded, and he took a hand to her face, pushing his fingers into her lips.

"Pretty, pretty girl," he hummed, fucking her mouth.

Ben pushed his cock inside her more, filling her again as his finger pushed a finger into her ass.

"Look at you," Beau fucked her with his fingers. "Eyes so glazy... must be feeling so good, little princess."

Fuck, she could hear how wet her pussy was.

"You are so slicky and squishy..." Beau purred. "Must be so, so easy to just slide in there."

"I can just slide in," Ben hummed.

And he did, pushing all the way into her and making her cry out, and Beau pulled his fingers from her mouth, petting her hair a bit.

They were so fucking big, all of them.

Lizzie's brain dripped from her ears at the thought of being fucked like that every day, filled and used.

"Fuck, suck a good cunt," Ben fucked her with his finger. "Want to have you seated on my cock while I work... gonna make you warm me up."

She whined.

"Please," she begged.

But Dean chuckled.

"What work?" he scoffed.

Ben bent down, pressing his lips to her ear.

"I'll fuck you during my shows," he whispered into her ear. "I've been thinking about getting a pussy to fuck, and now I got one for free."

She moaned in pleasure.

Wait, did he work with livestreams?

"We'll see how many times they'll allow me to make you cum," he bit her earlobe. "That might teach you, hm?"

Lizzie gasped, and he pulled back, taking his cock almost all the way out and then pushing into her again.

"Ben!"

He chuckled.

"Teach me what?" she moaned.

He pulled his finger back, and when it came back, there were two of them.

"To be patient," he grunted. "And take what we give you. Maybe they'll drive the message better than me."

She moaned.

The thought of that made her feel so gooey.

Dozens... maybe hundreds of people watching her get fucked and used. Making her cum and cum until she was stupid.

His cock brushed against her sweet spot and Ben took a hand down, pinching her clit.

"Won't you love that?"

"Yes," she begged. "Please, Ben!"

He pulled his fingers out, and she gasped when he pushed the plug into her all the way in.

Before she could even react to it, he moved behind her, fucking her hard.

The way she moaned was embarrassing.

Beau put the camera on her face, missing the way his brother was using her, focused on her face.

She probably looked like the sluttiest of whores.

"Needy slut," he rubbed her clit.

Lizzie came right there, overstimulated already.

"Needy slut," he rubbed her clit.

Lizzie came right there, overstimulated already.

"Daddy," she cried.

"Fuck," Beau growled.

Ben buried his cock into her cunt, moaning darkly and cumming deep in her, filling her up.

So much cum in her pussy, God...

Beau laughed at his brother.

"Couldn't hold back, Ben?" he teased, tossing his phone at him. "Move over. I'll show you two."

He panted behind her, still, patting the plug, and she whined.

"Shut up, Beau," he grunted. "Been hard for a fucking hour."

"Yeah, yeah," his brother scoffed. "Don't let the cum out."

But Ben didn't move, kissing her back at first.

"Take care of it for me, will you, pretty girl?" he twisted the toy inside her, making her whine. "I'll start training that ass tomorrow."

Ben pulled back from inside her, but she had no time to get used to being empty, and Beau pushed his cock inside her right away.

"Uncle Beau!"

"There's my pussy, missed it all day," he grunted. "So messy, dripping out all that seed."

She moaned, closing her eyes.

"Do you think that'll be enough to breed you?" he picked her up, sitting her on his lap facing his brothers.

Lizzie moaned, her head falling back onto his shoulders.

"But we can't!" she whined.

He took his hand to her pussy, rubbing her clit.

"Oh, I've seen where that goes," Ben chuckled, phone pointed to her. "Sweet girl can't be bred by loved it so, so much."

Lizzie whined, squirming on top of him.

"But Ben!" she whined.

He clicked his tongue.

"No, sweetheart," he corrected her. "I'm daddy."

She pouted, squirming as Beau rubbed her clit.

"All that cum inside you," he purred. "I can feel how much you like it, I can feel your stupid cunt squeezing my cock."

Dean stood, walking to stand by her side, and pinched her nipples.

"Her tits are so small," he noted. "Imagine how big they'll get when we put our baby in her."

She could only moan, mind in a goo.

That couldn't feel hot. It shouldn't make her horny, it-

"Go on, baby," uncle Beau kissed her ear. "Cum for us while we breed you."

She came, crying and shaking on top of him, completely soft already, nearly light-headed.

"You're gonna let us use you just like that, won't you?" he made her bounce, Dean's fingers replacing his as Beau grabbed her hips, fucking her. "Gonna let us fill you up, fuck you deep."

"No need to find a job," Ben told her. "Just stay home, be our little stay-at-home girlfriend."

"Our girl," Beau grunted. "Now and forever."

He slammed into her hard, making her feel like her brain was just banging against the walls of her skull.

Again, she came, feeling like it would never even stop.

"I can't," she begged. "Can't cum anymore, please."

Dean pulled his fingers away, and Beau hugged her close as he used her, cumming inside her quickly as she floated in the pleasure of being thoroughly theirs.

She didn't miss the feeling of him cumming in her, and fell onto his shoulder as she kissed sweetly all over her face, shoulder and neck.

She felt someone between her legs, and Lizzie gasped when Beau pulled inside her and hands held her legs spread.

"Fuck, yes," Ben grunted from between her legs. "Look at all that cum, baby girl."

"Careful," Beau panted. "It's going to stain the couch."

"I'll deal with that," he assured him. "I've never stained it, not gonna be a first now."

She heard the sound of Dean gagging for a moment before Ben kissed her thigh and pulled back, and opened her eyes to look at them.

"Poor baby girl," Dean cooed, picking her up, and she wrapped her legs around him weakly. "Let's take you to the bathroom to clean you."

Dean was very gentle with her, never lingering in a weird way, giving her a moment to pee - because UTIs aren't nice - and fixed her hair before carrying her to a very large and very comfy bed.

Lizzie scrunched her nose at being alone, but embraced the body that first lied by her side.

"You know, your room is surprisingly clean."

She looked up, picking up on Beau's voice, and Ben squeezed her.

"What's up with all the cameras?" Dean mumbled.

She looked around, surprised to see how many cameras he had set around, capturing his bed in many positions, all with their lenses covered.

"They are off, don't worry," he gruffed, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm not gonna waste my time putting them away for you."

Dean scoffed, and she felt the bed dip, and relaxed when she felt him embracing her closely, only in his underwear.

"Hey," Beau called. "Where do I go?"

She opened her eyes and the boys squeezed her.

He was standing by the bed with an annoyed face.

"I'm not moving," Ben hid his face in her neck.

Beau huffed.

"Ben!" he half whined.

Dean sighed by her side, and Lizzie gasped when he lifted her and put her on top of him.

"We be the bed," he decided.

Lizzie couldn't quite complain.

Beau lied down with them, at last, and she rested on Dean's chest, feeling Beau's fingers when he started to pet her hair.

“When was the last time we all shared a bed together?” he hummed.

"Not since our balls dropped," Ben spoke into her neck.

But Dean had a different answer.

“No, it was definitely after our birthday, two years ago," he corrected him. "You were such a baby and wouldn’t get your fat ass off of my bed, and Beau was worried you’d choke on your vomit in your sleep.”

Ben scoffed.

“Hey, I’m in a strict diet, you definitely weigh more than me, fatso.”

She felt Dean moving to answer him, but Lizzie was quick to diffuse the situation, kissing Dean, then Ben, then Beau.

"Be nice to one another," she scolded them. "You're brothers."

The boys all laughed.

"We are mean to each other because we are brothers," Dean pointed out.

Lizzie huffed and they all kissed her, both her cheeks and forehead.

"We'll be nice," Beau promised. "For you."

Dean hummed in agreement.

"Right, Ben?" he raised his head.

Ben scoffed.

"Right, right."

She smiled, cheeky.

"Good, or you are never touching this pussy again," Lizzie affirmed.

Well...

"For a month," she added.

"Yes, ma'am," they agreed.

. . .

"The Triplets" was posted on Patreon on January 2023. To read the sequels "The Livestream (Ben x Lizzie)", "patience is a virtue (Dean x Lizzie)" and "the pictures (Beau x Lizzie)", subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and it helps a lot.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega

Supernatural tags: @its-daydreamer23 @imagefanfictionlover @smalltowndivaj @tayrae515imagines @oneshoeshort @andkatiethings @wakanda-sometimes @akshi8278 @xoxabs88xox @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @isabelle-faith @flamencodiva @lyarr24 Supernatural Kinky Fics (+18): @littlecassisub @stoneyggirl2 @death-unbecomes-you @phoenixblack89 @that-dark-girl The Triplets: @happyt0exist @ladysparkles78

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raythekiller · 11 months

Text

🗒 ❛ Personality Headcanons ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Masky, Hoodie

#Notes: just my general take on the creeps. hope y'all enjoy! requests open :)

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer

He's a total fucking prick, for a lack of better word. He doesn't care about other's feelings, he thinks he's better than everyone so he's "allowed" to treat people badly, and he has anger issues to top that. Protesting against his bad treatment is gonna earn you some screaming at best and some blood spilled at worst, depending entirely on his mood.

He has the potential to be a good friend and person in general, he just doesn't want to. However, you might catch him trying to awkwardly comfort Toby or Ben when they have mental breakdowns. Well, not as much "comfort" but more of a shy pat on the back and a "Stop being a little bitch" comment, but that's his way of showing that he cares. Take it or leave.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ben Drowned

Generally a pretty chill guy. He's not an extrovert, but he's still fairly outgoing when it comes to meeting new people (when he does leave his room, that is. He's kind of a shut in). Since he died when he was about twelve, I think he's forever stuck into the pre-pubescent boy mentality, so he can be quite the little shit.

That means he's also kind of a pervert and just immature in general. The type to play certain games just to gawk at the female character's slutty outfits and make fart jokes. He can also be very sarcastic and witty when he wants to, just a total smartass. Also, he's a pothead.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby

Probably one of, if not the nicest creep in the manor. Very upbeat and cheerful, at least most of the time. As someone that has bipolar disorder, it personally doesn't make me very violent and as unstable as Toby is canonically said to be. What does make me does things though is my BPD, so I headcanon he has that as well. He's all sunshine and rainbows until someone says something in a slightly off tone and suddenly he's screaming and throwing his hatchets at the fucking wall.

That also means he's extremely clingy. He wants every last bit of attention he can get and is extremely possessive of people he likes. And, while he is nice most of the time, when he's having an episode he's probably the most cold and cruel person you'll ever met.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Eyeless Jack

One of the most chill creeps. He's not aggressive and kills only when he needs to eat, and tries to make it quick and painless for the victim. He eats any organs, not just kidneys. Also, he's a fucking great cook, Hannibal Lecter style. He really likes reading and is extremely intelligent, probably knows two or more languages, and is probably the most mature member of the manor after Slenderman.

He's not actually blind, but he's not not blind either. He sees the temperature of things instead of the actual object. He hates drama and argument and loud noises, so he normally stays away from the other creeps (especially our favorite trio, Jeff, Ben and Toby), but he gets along really well with Jane.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Masky

Another prick, though a more reserved one than Jeff. He's a perfectionist and natural leader, so he expects everyone to obey him without questions and no mistakes allowed. He has this rivalry going on with Toby because, even though he's the leader and Slenderman's right hand, he feels the tall guy has a certain favoritism or soft spot when it comes to Toby (which is true).

He gets very aggressive after missions and just wants to be left alone for at least a few hours, just until he calms down a little. After he's rested, he's actually pretty decent to be around, becoming less defensive and more accepting of others.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Hoodie

The coolest guy ever. He's calm but great to be around and is always willing to listen to others when they need to vent. He's kind of the manor's therapist and gives great advice. He's mute, so he talks either through sign language or writing down on paper. He also plays guitar and likes to write his own songs sometimes. Ben and Sally really look up to him as a kind of cool uncle.

Since he's so level headed, he's always the one to calm Masky down when he's being a bit much. Toby really appreciates this, since he's normally getting the short end of Masky's bad moods. As mentioned, he's great with the younger members of the manor and just kids in general and they all love him. The type of uncle to give them candy while saying "Don't tell your parents" playfully.

#ticci toby headcanons #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #jeff the killer headcanons #eyeless jack headcanons #ben drowned headcanons #masky headcanons #hoodie headcanons #ray.writes

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borbygorlinbbqworld · 7 days

Note

A woman doesn't notice that one of the bras she bought is a nursing one. Once she wears it her boobs fill with milk and keep growing

Anya had always had big boobs.

Ever since they had started growing at age 13, they had been on the larger scale. The process for buying bathing suits and bras in particular had always proven a challenge; she had a very petite frame, but her breasts seemed to stick out of everything, and were often sore from the padding that came with retail bras.

Which was why finding the Abra Cadabra bra in the return pile at Target meant so much to her. She looked at herself wearing it in the mirror, turning this way and that. There was virtually no padding, so while her nipples did poke through the fabric a bit, it was super comfortable. The straps didn't dig in, which was another huge bonus.

She marveled at how well it supported her jugs, even bouncing them by the straps. Though they did jiggle quite a bit, it still felt comfortable.

She smiled at herself in the bathroom mirror, finally content. She looked at the box the bra came in, wondering how she had missed this product for so long.

Nursing Bra.

Anya's cheeks flushed. The reason it must have fit so well was because the bra was intended for women with massive jugs nursing their kids.

It was a little embarrassing, but so what, right? No one would know the bra was meant for--

Suddenly, Anya felt a tightness in her breasts. It was a feeling she usually got when her bras were too small, but this bra fit, didn't it? She looked at herself in the mirror, but nothing seemed amiss.

But the feeling continued, even through to the next week.

She stood in front of the mirror again with her top pulled over her breasts, examining them. Her healthy, round double Gs looked... different.

She was no stranger to her cycle filling her cups up a little bit here and there, but this was different. Her breasts looked swollen and full, and they felt like they weighed a ton. Her nipples were constantly hard now, poking through the fabric of the bra like two aching cherries.

"Holy fuck..."

Anya whipped around, jostling her full breasts, and startled at the sound of the man's voice. Ben, her older brother's friend, stood before her. His cheeks were flushed as he stared down at her chest.

She fumbled with her shirt, doing her best to pull it back down over her boobs, but the fabric protested. It was a stretchy fabric, but even it has its limits. Finally, she shoved them into the shirt, the tightness forcing breath from her.

The shirt certainly hadn't been that tight when she put it on this morning...

"Sorry," she finally said. "I was just seeing something..."

"Looking at how big they've gotten?" Ben asked.

Anya flushed. So he noticed too... "I don't know what you mean."

He reached his hands over, gently hoisting her heavy boobs up. She released a heavy sign of relief; who knew her back ached so much from them!

But Ben didn't stop there. Gently, he rubbed his thubs over her nipples, hardening them further. Anya let out a moan; good God, that felt good!

What didn't feel good, however, was the continued tightness in her chest as it strained against a t-shirt unequipped to hold her endowment.

"Your tits were already big. Now, they're..."

Anya squeaked helplessly as he massaged her breasts occasionally jiggling them around. Every jostle not only made her shirt feel even tighter, but her clit begged for release.

"Can I tell you something?" Ben tore his gaze from her breasts to look her in the eyes. "I always had a bit of a crush on you when we were all younger. Couldn't help but picture marrying you, and getting you pregnant as many times as I possibly could."

She bit her lip to stifle the moan of pleasure his words brought her.

Riiiip.

What was that? Anya was too distracted to look away from Ben to bother. He continued handling her, sinking his fingers into her flesh; she could feel each and every gland swell at his touch.

"I couldn't stop myself from thinking about how I'd fuck you, even when you're pregnant. How your tits would get so fucking huge, you'd be some bed-ridden breeding cow..."

His thumbs swirled around the outside of her areolas, teasing the hell out of her.

Finally, with another sound of tearing fabric, she realized her shirt had ripped. Her full breasts pulled her forward from the added weight, and she moaned.

They had never felt this engorged before, let alone so full. She caught sight of them in the mirror. Where she had already been a well-endowed double G cup before, she doubted her old bras would even cover her nipples anymore. The massive mounds had deep blue veins that throbbed near her nipples, and her breasts would have filled her entire lap had Ben not been supporting them.

"God, I wanna put babies in you so bad..."

Her underwear soaked at the suggestion. The idea of being impregnated by him right now made Anya burn with desire.

His touches were agonizingly arousing, and her teats begged for release.

Release?

Finally, Ben squeezed at her nipples playfully, and she realized what had been happening. Two hot spurts of milk showered his face. Anya moaned with pleasure and from the relief; holy fuck, it felt good!

Ben let her breasts go, once again causing her to lurch forward a bit. They swayed, sloshing the gallons of milk that had come out of nowhere. He knelt down so her teats were at eye level before pulling the nursing bra down to reveal her puffy nipples. Steady streams of milk leaked from them, and she begged him internally to lap it up.

But that wasn't the only thing her body needed at the moment, was it?

She stared down at him needily. "B-Ben?"

He looked up, a small smile on his face. "Yeah?"

Anya unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs. "I need you to fuck me. Like... right now."

-----

🐮❤️

#breast expansion #lactation kink tw #tw lactation kink #massive breasts #smut #huge natural melons #huge cleavage #mommy milkers #big tiddy committee #writing

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exquisiteserotonin · 2 months

Text

Ternion

Word count: 3.3K

Pairing: Young Mr. Ben SNL(as a TA, Grad Assistant)xFemale ReaderxProfessor Jonathan Levy Scenes From a Marriage

Rating: E! For explicit (18+ only, MDNI)

Warnings: Threesome, Power Imbalance, Brat Taming, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), somewhat degrading actions

Summary: Your friend and fellow graduate assistant Ben asks you to come over to his place for help with another task that your overbearing advising professor, Jonathan Levy, has dumped on the both of you.

A/N: I don’t typically subscribe to the whole professor student thing, but this was begging to be written and I hope this means I am out of my funk and my damn season of writer’s block is over. I hope you enjoy and as always reblog, comment, engage! I would love to hear from you!

And to my sluts thank you as always for giving me your magic! @magpiepillsjunior @magpiepills @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen @arcanefox207 @for-a-longlongtime

Ternion

Ternion: a group of three, a triad; a section of a paper of book containing three double leaves or twelve pages

Your eyes were beginning to glaze over as you stared at your laptop screen. It was another long afternoon of compiling participant demographics and data from your advising professor’s study in your closet of an office. You closed your laptop a little harder than you should have as you began to pack up for the day. The parking lot behind your building was nearly empty, most students having left for the day. As you drove home, you had visions of cozying up on the couch with your blanket, drinking an adult beverage, and binge watching your favorite tv show.

You were only a few miles from your house, when the infotainment screen in your car flashed with a familiar contact: Ben, your office mate and fellow graduate assistant. Deliberation coursed through the pads of your fingertips and against your better judgment you answered.

“Hey Ben, what’s up?”

“Hey,” his voice echoed with a hesitancy, “Professor Levy asked me a for a favor and I—“

“Are you serious, Ben?” You groaned in exasperation. “This is such bullshit. ”

“I know, I know—I hate to ask but would you come over and help me out?”

Say no. Say no. Say no, your brain said on repeat. Desperation wafted from his hushed voice in a way that immediately unlocked your kindness. You just knew he was pouting, running his hands through his chocolate brown hair while somehow making his already big eyes even bigger, like glassy orbs of whiskey on ice: against your silent protests that he NOT be so easy to say yes to. But aside from that he was also the kind of colleague who’d help you out in a pinch…and too damn attractive for his own good. It certainly made having him as your office mate interesting and frustrating at times.

You gripped the steering wheel before announcing your decision.

“Well, I was legitimately on my way home,” you replied with a deliberately loud sigh. “But yeah, sure.”

It was a bitch move, you knew, but you needed your displeasure to be known. A small part of you felt bad about being so vocal with your frustration. It wasn’t Ben’s fault, but he needed to know the inconvenience of it all. You would not be at your professor’s beck and call. Especially on a goddamn Friday night.

“Just give me some time to head over,” you huffed and added, “I can’t be over there in a snap like Professor Levy would want.

“Hey now,” Ben spoke in a firm whisper that somehow still held a hint of kindness despite your bite, “don’t shoot the messenger.”

You turned the car around and headed to Ben’s house. You found parking on the street and walked up the stairs to the door of his small Brownstone. You pushed the doorbell and found yourself brushing your hands through your waves and cautiously smelling yourself.

Passable. You thought to yourself.

Then he answered the door, emerging in a snug navy blue v-neck and loose gray sweatpants slung low on his narrow hips. A hint of skin teased you between the hem of his shirt and the elastic of his pants. They held onto his hips for dear life with nothing but the insurance of a haphazardly tied drawstring. You nearly whimpered at the sight of him.

What a fucking tease. Get a hold yourself, woman.

You breezed through his door without a word, trying to quell your craving and channel it to the frustration you felt with your advising professor. This was his fault anyway.

“Um…hello to you, too,” he greeted.

Your hands were placed firmly on your hips when you turned back to face him. One of his brows was cocked at you, already waiting for another snarky response. You couldn’t help but pout back at him. He knew you too well.

“Just like him to not give you a weekend off,” you huffed.

“You don‘t even know what I‘m going to ask you,” his voice was low and sterner than you had ever heard before. “I‘m starting to think you like a little fight.“

The way his eyes bore into you was so deep, it was nearly a glare. He held his chin up in the slightest way, arrogant enough that it demanded your attention to his strong neck. It wasn’t long before you felt tiny sparks of electricity traveling over every inch of skin of your body. It didn’t help that he stood with his hips pushed forward in the most arrogant and un-Ben-like way.

“Wow, if only you could give a little bit of that attitude back to Professor Levy,” you said with some bite and unconstrained breathiness.

Conveying the facade of confidence was important. Especially in situations like this.

Ben stepped forward, his shirt and sweatpants clinging against his body in exactly the right way.

“You’re only proving me right,” he purred, now only inches from you.

Do not moan. Do not moan. Do not moan.

“Just give her what we know she needs, Ben,” you heard a polished voice command from the shadows of another room.

A different kind of heat crept over your face and neck after hearing the familiar voice.

What were the chances?

You looked towards the shadows to see Professor Levy swaggering towards you. He pushed forward a few steps, placing his hands in his trousers pockets before leaning against the wall to watch you. His eyes were low and piercing and he licked his lips that rested beneath his salt and pepper beard.

“Of course he’s here,” it came out as the repressed moan you were fighting against.

Professor Levy nodded towards Ben in acknowledgment of some kind of unspoken agreement. Faster than you could think or speak, Ben pulled your body tightly against his, grinding against you as he pressed his lips to yours in a hungry and greedy kiss.

You didn’t expect for Ben’s lips to feel as soft as they did. They were even softer when he parted yours with a firm lick of his tongue. The heat rose within you as his large hands wrapped around your waist, finding your skin beneath your shirt as he pressed your bodies even closer together. With every move he demanded you feel every twitch of his cock for you.

“W—wait!” You gasped, pushing him from you.

Your eyes moved from Ben to Professor Levy, a strange mix of unbridled desire and anxiousness stirring in the lowest part of your stomach. Ben’s thick fingers managed to keep a possessive grip on your hips that you didn’t brush away, despite the way your brain was spinning in want of answers.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You demanded of both of them.

The two men shared another knowing look that stoked the flame of your frustration. Professor Levy raised an eyebrow before removing his glasses and wiping them on a cloth he pulled from his shirt pocket. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes on him as he strutted towards you, his fingers weaving through the gunmetal ringlets of his hair. You rolled your eyes with disdain for his insufferable ways of working, but found yourself burning from your center with intrigue at what those fingers might be able to work on you.

“Always with the snark,” your professor directed the words towards Ben who responded with a shrug and a smirk.

“You will not talk about me like I’m not in the room,” you paused, turning to him and holding your eyes directly to his, “Jonathan.”

He one more large stride forward until he, too, was inches from you.

“I think you mean professor,” he commanded, continuing to advance on you until you backed into Ben.

A moan escaped you as Ben stood like a wall behind you. With your chest heaving up and down, Professor Levy brushed a strand of hair from your face with his long, lithe fingers. Yet they didn‘t stop there. The heat continued to rise from the three of you as the professor‘s hand journeyed down the curve of your body until they met Ben‘s at your hip. They shared a look of longing before turning that desire towards you. And in the strangest turn of events, the professor’s lips were on yours with his tongue paying adoration to your pouty lower lip.

Unable to contain the desire that trembled within, you let out a long, loud whimper as Professor Levy gently trapped your lower lip with his teeth. You already thought the feeling of Ben’s throbbing cock at your lower back was enough to drive you mad, but somehow you knew you were going to be pushed to your limit the moment Professor Levy took your hand to his pants until he pushed your palm to feel him twitch with desire for you.

The part of your brain that held your common sense screamed at you, demanding you not give him the satisfaction. But every other part of it, along with every part of your body, beckoned you to give in. The feeling of Ben’s massive hand moving to the front of your waist was followed by his thick fingers inching towards the front of your jeans. You couldn’t help but pant as you felt his hot breath brush the back of your neck.

“You can’t tell me that this isn’t better than the fight you put up,” Ben’s voice came to your ear in a low growl.

He wasn’t wrong. But ever true to yourself, you bit your lip and replied with a little extra spice, “I think that remains to be seen.”

Your words made Ben snap his hips forward against you with a gravelly moan. Within Professor Levy’s mahogany eyes you could see from his heavy-lidded stare the desire the two men held for each other while searching for their reason to include you.

Professor Levy lifted your chin with a push of two strong fingers, silently ordering you to look squarely into his bespectacled eyes before he spoke, “You definitely need to be taught a lesson.”

You found yourself following him to Ben’s large leather couch, with Ben close behind you, his fingers intertwined in yours. Professor Levy took his place first like a king warming his throne. He smirked as he taunted you by unbuttoning his shirt. He manipulated each button with skillful fingers until he slipped it off and let it fall to the living room floor. He spread his legs wide as he sat, smoothing his hands over the soft fabric of pants that covered his strong thighs.

Ben nibbled playfully at your neck and then your ear with desperate and needy breaths. His warm hands slowly slid beneath your shirt, moving upwards until he massaged your breasts with paws massive enough that they made them feel small. Before you could even think your shirt was gone followed by your bra.

Professor Levy beckoned you to him as he rubbed his thighs, “Come sit here…now.”

This time, you submitted without a fight, feeling the way your skin nearly melted into his as you let your back rest against his chest. His beard tickled the skin of your ear as he licked at the bottom of it. His supple fingertips reached under your arms until they found the altar of your nipples. You rolled back against him as he tortuously began to caress, flick, and pinch them even slower and more skillfully than he had with the buttons of his shirt.

“Ben,” your professor called to your colleague, friend…inevitable lover, “come here.”

You dragged your nails along the waist of his low slung sweatpants while he lifted his shirt over his head. You kept your fingers just above his waistband while he leaned over the couch towards you and your professor. It was mesmerizing to watch how these two beautiful men looked at each other with such intimacy and longing as you lay between them. Your professor took a hand from your nipples and brought it possessively to the back of Ben’s neck, pulling his face to his before licking his bottom lip and pressing onto his mouth for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“Fuck.”

There were no other words you had that could possibly convey the carnal state of desire you had fallen into. Hungrily, you pulled at the drawstrings of Ben’s sweatpants before reaching your hand to the waistband. In a lightning fast move, your professor pulled it away, squeezing your fingers between his.

“Tsk, tsk, not without my express permission,” Professor Levy scolded in a low, buttery whisper.

Slowly, Ben positioned himself at your legs, his hands caressing your waist until he began rubbing your professor’s thighs with you. Professor Levy grabbed Ben’s hand and squeezed it before lowering his eyes to him.

He spoke with unwavering confidence coating every word as he gave Ben a command that sent shivers spiraling outward from your wet center.

“Taste her.”

The wanton darkness that overcame Ben’s eyes and the smirk that curled the corner of his upper lip coaxed your heart and your pussy to throb even more than you anticipated. Your professor’s demand spurred Ben to pull off your jeans and underwear even faster than you could put any thoughts together. You sat naked between the two men in so many more ways than you’d imagined you ever would be. Through your dizzying thoughts, Ben placed a firm grip on your legs pressing them a part.

Any words you thought you could form in your head only came out in quick, pulsing gasps. An unbridled heat spread all over your body as you felt Ben’s broad fingers handle your outer lips until they began to line themselves up at your slit.

“Jonathan, she’s so fucking wet,” his voice was hushed and his breath was so hot against your pussy.

Professor Levy’s response came out in a guttural moan that met your body by way of hands continuing to work on your nipples. The theme of surprise continued as your professor and Ben played off one another in ways that only happened when two people knew each other beyond words. Ben’s nose pressed into your mound as he licked a slow, deep stripe up your center.

“Oh my god,” You cried, finding your professor’s hand with a desperate grasp as Ben began working on your pussy with slow, luxurious and hungry swirls until he moved into a varied and unexpected pace that had you shaking, writhing, and bucking against his every move. Each time his tongue worked on you, he pushed you to the very edge of ecstasy over and over and over again.

He moved his worship to your clit and pressed his face and tongue deeper into you, eliciting a cry from you that filled the room, “Jesus, Ben, fuck oh my—Professor!!”

You pressed one hand through Ben’s waves and gripped Professor Levy’s thigh while riding your high.

“Ben, tell me what she tastes like.”

He lifted his face from your center, lips and chin dripping with your spend.

“Like heaven.”

Ben looked up at you, his eyes glassy with passion and also shining with the gleam of a man hungry for more. The sight of him caused you to whimper. You had never studied his face this way before even though you shared a small space together almost daily. The broad bridge of his nose sloped downward and he breathed you in with a playful smirk before adorning your outer lips with a delicate kiss. You thread your fingers through the disheveled locks of his hair, smiling back at him until your lips opened once more as he teased you with more caresses of his fingers.

“He’s good isn’t he?” Professor Levy growled into your ear.

Your brain was spinning, your body shaking in anticipation of what was to come next. Professor Levy reached an arm over your body, maneuvering his hand towards your neck and without missing a beat, Ben pressed his mouth onto you again sucking at your lips before he dipped his tongue into you again. He continued to venerate every fold with abandon, moaning with each taste he had of you like it were the best meal he’d ever had. You didn’t think it could get any better, especially with the pressure of your professor’s hand at your neck matching the intensity of each manipulation of Ben’s tongue.

And then…

One…two of his broad fingers reached into you, curling into your tight wet pussy while his tongue paid particular devotion to your clit.

“Ah, oh my god, fuck!” You came crying, writhing, and losing any more words the tighter your professor’s grip became.

Ben’s voice vibrated against you with a low, carnal laugh as you felt the slick sensation spill from your center onto the leather beneath you. He then pressed his hands lightly at your lower belly, causing you to shudder with even more aftershocks from your orgasm. You worked through catching your breath and looked down at him. The face he greeted you with as you caressed his wavy locks was that of a bold and satisfied man who knew he could do that to you again.

Ben rose up from the floor and leaned forward until his face was close to yours. You relaxed and leaned your head back against your professor’s as he eased his hold at your neck. In an unexpected moment of tenderness, Professor Levy threaded his fingers between yours.

Ben’s eyes shined as he looked toward you and then your professor. The simultaneously tender and sensual intimacy they shared was amplified in this quiet moment. It felt so private that you were almost embarrassed by having witnessed it.

“Wanna have a taste?” Ben asked as he pressed his thumb still damp from you to Professor Levy’s bottom lip.

Your professor took it, sucking at the tip savoring the taste of you on Ben’s skin. Heavy-lidded with lust, Professor Levy let go of Ben’s thumb and then licked his lips.

“Mmm, sweet,” he murmured with a seductive and low rumble coming from the back of his throat.

Ben stood up and lifted his chin with a proud smirk. He walked to what you assumed was his bedroom and then turned around to lean against the doorway. The way he leaned his elbow above him and his other hand resting at his hip demanded you pay attention to his defined torso. The waistband of his sweatpants sat so low that your eyes had no choice but to travel down the peppering of brown hair that led to the thick treasure you were becoming so desperate for.

A light squeeze of your thighs by your professor was your signal to stand. He walked around you and used his eyes to study every curve of your body. A light touch of his fingers beneath your chin had you breathing hard again as his gaze now demanded that you give him your own. The breath from his mouth danced upon your lips. Yet instead of taking you in for a kiss, he turned from you with his hands in his pockets. You stood naked before both men watching you, waiting for you, bodies reaching for you from a doorway to a room and to a deed that you could never really come back from.

And the decision was clear. There was no way in hell you could turn back now.

You stepped forward. The old, hardwood floors creaked beneath your feet.

“Wait,” Professor Levy called out.

You closed your eyes with a sharp intake of breath and you stopped as he had demanded. Your breath quivered as you waited for what they had in store for you.

He shared another look with Ben, his eyes lowering and the brown of them becoming devilish and dark.

“Get on your knees and crawl.”

#juice collective #friends of the juice collective #pedro pascal character fanfiction #oscar isaac character fanfiction #mr. ben x reader #mr. ben snl #pedro pascal fandom #jonathan levy #scenes from a marriage #smut writing

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fayes-fics · 6 months

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It Had To Be You: Epilogue - Wonderful You

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: How would you sum up your love story?

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f) cunnilingus. Err, there is also some swearing and soppy stuff, too.

Word Count: 1.5k

Author's Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. This is the little decorative bow I wanted to wrap up this fic up with. If you've seen the original film, you know there are vox pops between 'chapters' where couples tell their love stories. This is my tribute to/explanation of that in this AU. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. Thank you again for reading this story, I hope you all enjoy this smidge of filth and humour! <3

When his phone lights up and vibrates on the pillow next to yours for the third time, the name HY flashing bright, you reluctantly realise you have to say something.

You slide one hand down under the covers to shake his shoulder lightly. “Ben…. Ben, your phone…” you stutter, not wanting to do anything to stop the wondrous sensations coursing through your body, but concern overrides your want for pleasure.

“I'm doing some of my best work here, you know…” he protests silkily, muffled against your body, curling his tongue around your clit in a way that makes your knees tremble and goosebumps break out over your limbs.

“Ngggg, fuck, I know you are, baby,” you moan, “but this is the third time it’s ringing, and now you’ve got a big text pop-up saying SOS…” you stumble out.

There is a rustling of sheets, and his handsome face appears, glistening with your arousal in the ray of Mediterranean sun that cuts across the bed.

“Whoever is interrupting us better have a damn good reason; they all know this is our honeymoon,” he grumbles, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and crawling up over you, pecking a kiss onto the tip of your nose before reaching for his phone. As he does, it starts vibrating in his hand again.

“What?” he answers gruffly, in the way only siblings ever greet each other.

You watch as he pulls a variety of faces that make you giggle, pinned under him, his erection pressed distractingly into your left thigh.

“Hy…,” he groans after a bit, dropping his forehead onto your sternum. “How does any of this constitute an SOS?” he sighs wearily.

You can tell her answer is sarcastic by the strains of voice you hear from the phone as it's pressed against his ear.

“The answer, I'm sure, is yes, we will, and now, will you please leave us alone? We are busy…” he says pointedly. “...That's entirely none of your business,” he adds curtly after a beat.

You can easily surmise she guessed precisely what you are doing, and you chuckle. Benedict tilts his head up and shoots you a laden smirk that has you scraping your nails over the nape of his neck and into his luscious, thick hair, canting your body up into him and mewling softly as a hint.

“I'm hanging up now…” he warns, appearing to do just that as his little sister is midsentence.

“What does she want us to do?” you query, turning your head to kiss the flexing bicep that carries his weight as he tosses his phone aside.

He shuffles lower, his lips closing around your nipple, sucking insistently, making you arch under him and gasp.

“She wants us to appear in some documentary she is making,” he explains laconically, his fingers wrapping around the dip of your waist as his breath ghosts warm over the saliva he left, pursing his lips and blowing gently, watching your areola pucker under his attention.

You are rapidly losing the ability to give a shit in this moment but decide to get a little more information before you succumb. “What sort of documentary?”

“Couples talking to camera about their love story,” he hums, swapping to give your other breast the same wonderful treatment.

“She wants our story?” you frown distractedly, slightly non-plussed, running your fingertips along the play of his back muscles as he moves.

“Oh, come on darling, even you have to admit it reads like a film script,” he chuckles, rubbing the tip of his nose over the swell of your breast. “Twelve years, broken relationships, friends, not friends, both of us being idiots for entirely too long…” he trails off as he begins to wind his way back down your body, dropping hot kisses onto your diaphragm and belly.

“Oi,” you protest weakly, “I was not an idiot; I was merely cautious…”

“Sure, my love, a cautious idiot,” he amends, pushing your thighs open around his shoulders unseen under the sheets.

“Fair point…” you concede before crying out as he once again unfurls that magical tongue.

—

“How many couples are you interviewing for this?” you ask as Hyacinth fiddles with a microphone that will be out of shot on the coffee table in front of you.

It is three weeks later, and you are sitting on a two-seater sofa in a nondescript warehouse somewhere in Ealing—a digital camera and lots of bright lights trained on you. It all feels slightly unnerving, making you nervously pick at a tiny fleck of lint on your trousers.

“Oh, about ten or twelve, all sorts of ages and backgrounds,” she elucidates, obviously proud of what she is pulling together for her graduate film project.

“Why did you want us?” you inquire, genuinely intrigued.

“Well, your story is bloody fascinating, and I wanted to have at least one love story from my own family,” she explains. “I tried Kate and Anthony, but they bickered the whole time about what the truth of their story is. Then they started the tonsil tennis. It was too weird, even for me,” she shrugs.

“What do you want us to say?” Benedict checks, attempting to smooth his wayward curl of forehead hair that is always there, doing its own thing.

“Just go with the flow. Be truthful. Say whatever comes to mind; we can always go again,” she answers somewhat nebulously, rounding behind the camera as you exchange uncertain looks. “And ACTION!!” she calls suddenly.

“The first time we met, we hated each other,” Benedict begins.

“No,” you immediately interject, “you didn’t hate me; I hated you. The second time we met, you didn't even remember me!” you argue.

“I did, too! I remembered you! I approached you on the train,” he points out. “The third time we met, we became friends,” he smiles, wrapping a hand around your knee and shooting you a loving glance.

“We were friends for a long time,” you adjoin, nodding, before adding honestly, “Aaaaand then we weren't.”

“And then we fell in love,” Benedict drawls, his tone laden with affection. “Three months later, and we are married!” he holds up his left hand, proudly displaying his shiny new wedding ring.

“It only took three months,” you nod in agreement, then pause, “well… twelve years and three months…”

“We had a really wonderful wedding,” he comments, turning and smiling crookedly at you.

“It really was,” you agree, grinning back.

“It was great. We had a band with salsa dancing,” he explains, leaning into you fractionally.

“Yes, lots of salsa dancing,” you concur, hooking your chin onto his shoulder as he turns his head fully toward you, you matching his little knowing smile, wanting nothing more than to draw him into a kiss.

“Ok… CUT!!” Hyacinth calls.

“What was wrong with that?” he checks, reluctantly peeling his gaze from you to his sister.

“Urgh, you are as bad as Anthony,” she rolls her eyes. “Let's try again, but this time, you know, maybe a bit more story and a shade less mushy?” she suggests.

“Mushy?” Benedict echoes, his brow knitting. “How am I supposed to talk about my wife, the love of my life, and not be ‘mushy’?” he appends with air quotes, as if what he just said casually is not the sweetest thing ever… and makes you want to mount him instantly.

“Y/n, stop eye-fucking my brother,” Hyacinth sighs.

It’s your turn to whip around to her and look indignant. “I am not!”

“Please…” she withers, arching a single eyebrow, and you slouch down a little, realising you are being entirely called out.

“Okay, fine. But tell him to stop doing the same,” you mumble.

“Believe me, I’m trying,” she answers, fiddling with one of the lamps trained on you. “Now okay from the top,” she says. “I liked it until you got to the salsa dancing bit. Please, let's not cover that; it's obviously a trigger topic for both of your hormones,” she eye rolls.

“What do you want us to talk about then?” he shrugs.

“Tell me more about the very first day you met,” she proposes, then circles her finger silently to show she’s recording again.

“So it's the last day of university in the depths of Scotland, and both of us are driving to London...” he starts.

“Excuse me, I was driving my car to London; you very much hitched a ride,” you interrupt again.

“Please, it was your mum’s car. And you refused to give me a Malteser,” he disputes, pouting at you.

“Really? It's been twelve years. And still with the Malteser thing? You could have brought your own, you know,” you remonstrate logically.

“And you could have tried not to make me crash into a bus shelter, but here we are…,” he argues back, shooting you a sideways look that is all challenge and heat—it makes you want to strip him bare.

You can't help it; you lean in and capture his lips this time.

“For fuck’s sake, not these two as well,” Hyacinth mutters, head slumping into her hands.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #it had to be you fic

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girlactionfigure · 7 months

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Know Thine enemy

I am not a Jew and I’m not a citizen of Israel. I haven’t even visited Israel. I don’t trace my religion back to a holy site in Jerusalem and I don’t have a problem with Arabs or Muslims or Christians. I’ve read about Abraham, Moses, David and Solomon; the Umayyads, the Abbasids and the Ottomans; I know about the British, the Balfour declaration, Ben Gurion and Golda Meir. I know a bit about the Six-Day War and the Intifada. I might not have any personal stake in the Holy Land, but humanity certainly does - and I’m a human being.

The women, men, children, elderly people and soldiers who were kidnapped, tortured, raped, humiliated and murdered on Saturday by Hamas in sovereign Israel were human beings too.

Those who did it to them are not.

Imagine what kind of rational and ethical gymnastics you have to do to justify the cold-blooded murder of teenagers at a music festival; or watching a child, perhaps 5 years old, being prodded with a stick and made to cry for his mother in Hebrew while children of a similar age laugh and mock him? We don’t know that child’s fate and for all we know what followed may have been much worse. It’s depraved. To even enter a conversation about these disgraceful facts with a rehearsed retort about territory or Gaza being an “open-air prison” reeks of moral bankruptcy.

If you wail and scream about your land, dignity, rights, oppression and poverty but are willing to murder, rape, kidnap, torture or humiliate children; then I don’t have to listen to your reasons. When the video footage, photographs and stories of Saturday’s carnage come not from "Israeli propaganda” but from the Hamas terrorists themselves, then how am I to read anything else into it but that you want credit for these atrocities? You want me to know you did it. You want me to know you are proud of it. You want me to see you for who you are. Well, I do.

So, if you swarmed the Israeli Embassy in London, waving Palestinian flags and calling for genocide; if you went down to Times Square to celebrate a victory for decolonisation against “apartheid Israel”; if you sang along to “gas the Jews” chants at the Sydney Opera House or hung a “one settler, one bullet” Palestinian flag over Grayston bridge in Johannesburg then you’re telling me who you are. Well, I see you - and you’re my enemy.

I’m one of those people who believe civilisation is a real thing, and I’ve resisted the poison of moral relativists in the humanities departments of universities across the west who think that being nuanced about the idea of civilisation versus barbarism is a signal of intellectual prowess or critical self-reflection. Upon even a cursory investigation of these people or their positions, you will find every sign of pedestrian intelligence and self-absorbed navel-gazing, combined with a fetishisation of victimhood and always concomitant humourlessness. They too, are my enemies.

It is always interesting to note that only western liberal democracies tolerate and give succour to the most heinous arguments and positions in public protests. You couldn’t picket on the side of quite laudable things like education for girls in Taliban Afghanistan, gay rights in Syria, or against the death penalty in Saudi Arabia. The Ayatollahs of Iran wouldn’t allow women to protest the hijab there under threats of violence. But London, New York, Sydney and even Johannesburg will embrace marches where people actively call for genocide. This is not how allies behave.

Perhaps when the dust has settled we can examine the insidious links between Anglo-American leftism and antisemitism, between Europe never reckoning with what happened in the holocaust and their growing Muslim populations, and between ignorant regimes like mine in South Africa and their determination to stand alongside the worst human-rights abusers in the Middle East.

For now, it’s no big mystery that this has nothing to do with the existence of the State of Israel and everything to do with Jew-hatred - that great, festering wound in the side of humanity from which all prejudice flows. It has been there for thousands of years and every time we think it has healed, some monstrous collective claws it open again.

Hamas aren’t hiding the ball. Their leader, Ismail Haniyeh, safely skulking in Qatar, made this clear. He celebrated dead Jews, not territory won, nor Gazan lives saved.

I’m afraid there are only two sides in a war - your allies and your enemies. On September 11th, 2001, I knew whose side I was on. I feel the same today.

Gareth

Gareth Cliff

#Israel #AmYisraelChai

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thebrightestwitchofherage · 3 months

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Extremist chants and signs in pro- Palestinian rallies vs the double standards Jews face

I’ve explained in previous posts why “from the river to sea “ is actually a genocidal call for the eradication of all Jews from Israel. I’m not going to go into that in this post, but you’re welcome to read it and further research the phrase.

Unfortunately, every day anti- Zionists provide me with more slurs and problematic protests chants: Please read the attached post. These are all examples from pro - Palestinian protests held in the last few weeks.

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Murder is not “resistance”. Neither is raping or kidnapping civilians. I can’t believe some twisted people believe this is ok.

Nothing justifies what happened in October 7th. Not even the “occupation”.

If you’re going to say “well on 1948 Jews occupied Palestine”- the conflict has started before then, and Jews have been there wayyy before that’s .

How long before 1948?

Here’s Yet another example to how long Jews have been in Israel :

I’ll use the Arabic word used last slide as an example, when you know, the protester literally said “all Jews belong in hell”:

The Arabic word for hell is derived from Hebrew:

Hebrew for Valley of Hinnom, near Jerusalem, is mentioned in the bible as Gie Ben Hinom -> Gehinnom/ Gehenna-> the Arabic word for hell “ganaham”.

What’s actually important- The Double Standard and underlying antisemitic rhetoric:

More importantly than linguistics and semantics-Imagine the backlash against an Israeli/ Jewish protestor if they said all Muslims / Palestinians belong in hell.

Jews are looked under a microscope for every single word said in protest, interviews , etc while this is completely allowed .

Only last month during the Haag trial, out of context and mistranslated quotes of extremist government members were used to prove how Israel’s guilty of “genocide”.

-on the other ,while chants and signs like these are completely fine. Calling for the death of all Jews is fine, Jews can’t speak out without being called a genocidal murderer or a slew of other antisemitic slurs.

-I’ve been personally called all of these things simply for identifying online as a Jewish Israeli woman, or for saying “Israelis shouldn’t die” and “release the hostages”. The bar for being cussed and harassed is that low.

Tldr- These dangerous chants , slurs and death threats have been increasing since October 7th, and it feels like it was just an excuse .

The double standard is astounding. Don’t be a dick to Jews, and educate yourself about what you’re saying.

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lila-lou · 2 months

Text

✨ His only exception - Pt. 9/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, Soldier Boy being a dick, mind games, teasing

Word Count: 4119

A/N: This is part 9 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

You squirmed beneath his touch, a mixture of desire and apprehension coursing through you as you struggled to maintain your composure.

But just as he was about to proceed, something in him seemed to shift. With a furrowed brow, Ben looked up at you, his gaze clouded with uncertainty as he took in the impact of the alcohol on your demeanor.

He knew that if he were to go any further, you wouldn't remember a thing in the morning.

For a moment, there was silence between you, the weight of the decision hanging heavy in the air. And then, with a heavy sigh, Ben reluctantly pulled away, a flicker of remorse crossing his features.

"Not tonight, princess", he muttered, his voice tinged with regret. "You deserve better than this".

And with that, he gently pulled your panties back up, covering your exposed skin with a tenderness that belied his usual demeanor.

Though a part of him longed to give in to his baser instincts, he couldn't bring himself to take advantage of you in your vulnerable state. With anyone else yes, but not with you.

As Ben laid down next to you, his expression hardened once more as he tried to maintain his usual facade. You, already halfway passed out from the effects of the alcohol, slurred your words as you turned to him with bleary eyes.

"Why won't you sleep with me, Ben?", you asked, your voice a mixture of confusion and longing.

Ben's jaw clenched visibly at your question, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

"Because, princess", he replied, his tone cold and dismissive. "I don't waste my time on inexperienced girls like you". He still needed to keep his walls up, don’t show too much emotions.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, the alcohol dulling your senses and making it difficult to comprehend his words. "But I want you", you protested weakly, reaching out to touch his arm.

“You don't know what you want", he sighted. "You're drunk".

Ben's words cut through the haze of alcohol, sobering you up for a moment as you processed his harsh rejection. Despite the alcohol coursing through your veins, a pang of hurt pierced through your foggy mind at his callous dismissal.

"I do know what I want", you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion as you struggled to sit up. "I want you, Ben"

But Ben remained unmoved, his expression stoic as he refused to meet your gaze. "No, you don't know what you want," he repeated, his tone tinged with frustration. "You're drunk, and I'm not interested in being your mistake".

With a heavy heart, you sank back onto the bed, the weight of his rejection settling over you like a suffocating blanket.

As you lay asleep beside him, lost in the depths of intoxication, Ben couldn’t help but steal a glance in your direction. His gaze lingered on your peaceful features, softened by sleep, before reluctantly shifting to his own body, where a massive boner strained against the fabric of his sweatpants.

With a heavy sigh, Ben muttered to himself, his frustration palpable in the air. “God, it’s hard—literally—to be the good guy for once”.

Despite his inner turmoil, he couldn’t deny the surge of arousal coursing through him at the sight of you, vulnerable and trusting in your slumber. With a conflicted expression, he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. “You’ll thank me tomorrow”, he murmured.

And with that, Ben settled back against the pillows, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he struggled to quiet his thoughts. For once, he had chosen to be the better man, to resist the temptation that beckoned him with every breath. As he lay there, wrestling with his desires and his conscience, he couldn't help but hope that perhaps, you would see him in a different light.

But for now, all he could do was wait and wonder what tomorrow would bring, and whether his decision to resist the pull of temptation would ultimately be worth it in the end.

As the morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, you stirred from your slumber, a dull ache pulsing behind your temples. Blinking away the sleep, you glanced around the room, your heart skipping a beat when you spotted Ben's naked back turned towards you.

Panic surged through you as you realized the situation. Memories of the previous night flooded back, hazy and disjointed, as you struggled to piece together what had happened. And then, as you shifted beneath the covers, you felt the cool air against your skin and glanced down to see that you were wearing nothing but your panties.

Your breath caught in your throat as the reality of the situation sank in, the panic rising within you like a tidal wave. Hastily, you scrambled to cover yourself, pulling the sheets up to your chin as you desperately tried to make sense of the chaos unfolding around you.

With a pounding heart and a mind reeling with confusion, you couldn't help but wonder what had transpired between you and Ben. And as the memories began to slowly piece themselves together, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling that perhaps, you had made a mistake that you would come to regret.

As Ben groaned and slowly turned towards you, his eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a sleepy gaze. Instantly, he sensed the panic radiating from you and couldn't resist the urge to tease you, at least for a little while longer.

"Morning, princess", he said, his voice husky with sleep as he stretched languidly. "Sleep well?".

Your heart raced as you searched his expression for any hint of what had happened between you the night before, but all you found was amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I, uh...", you stammered, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you struggled to find the right words. "I don't really remember much".

Ben chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Well, that's a shame", he replied, his tone teasing. "You were quite the handful last night".

You felt a knot form in your stomach as you braced yourself for what was to come.

Ben couldn't resist the opportunity to tease you further, his lips curling into a playful smirk as he spoke.

"You know, (Y/N)”, he began, his tone light and teasing, "I didn't realize you were a virgin".

Your eyes widened in shock at his words, a blush creeping across your cheeks as you struggled to process what he was saying.

As Ben's words sank in, a wave of shame washed over you, and your heart sank like a stone in your chest. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you grappled with the weight of the misunderstanding. How could you have let this happen? How could you have been so careless?

"I...I didn't want...", you started, your voice choked with emotion as you struggled to articulate the turmoil raging within you.

But Ben, oblivious to your distress, continued to jest, his tone light and indifferent. "Hey, no need to get all worked up about it", he interjected, his smirk widening. "We both had a good time, right?".

His words cut you like a knife.

As Ben’s teasing words continued to echo in your mind, you felt a surge of anguish and anger bubbling up within you. How could he be so flippant about something so significant? Didn’t he understand the gravity of the situation?

“I can’t believe you”, you muttered, your voice trembling with emotion as you turned to face him, your eyes ablaze with indignation. “You really think it’s funny, don’t you? To just take what you want without a second thought?”.

Ben's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with amusement as he reveled in your discomfort. "Come on, sweetheart", he taunted, his tone dripping with mockery. "You can't deny you enjoyed it. You took me like a champ, even with how big I am".

The realization sinking in that you couldn't even remember your first time.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it", he continued. "You'll thank me later for showing you a good time".

Fueled by a mix of anger and hurt, you shot Ben a withering glare, your fists clenched at your sides.

"Fuck you, Ben", you spat, your voice trembling with emotion. "I hope you rot in hell".

With that, you stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind you with a resounding thud. Ben's laughter echoed in the empty room.

"Well, princess", he called after you, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's no way to talk to the man who just took your virginity".

His words hit you like a slap in the face, a fresh wave of anger washing over you as you fought to hold back tears.

Ben chuckled to himself, relishing in the chaos he had caused, before slowly getting out of bed. His smirk remained firmly in place as he stretched languidly, the events of the previous night already fading into the recesses of his mind.

Meanwhile, you retreated to the bathroom, your heart heavy with the weight of Ben's behavior. The hot water spilling over you, washing away the physical and emotional residue of the night before. But no matter how hard you scrubbed, you couldn't shake the feeling that you had been used.

As the steam filled the small confines of the bathroom, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to wallow in your misery, the tears mingling with the water cascading down your face.

It took you a few minutes to regain your composure.

But eventually, with resolve in your heart, you refused to let Ben's presence intimidate you. You emerged from the bathroom with wet hair, a defiant expression etched upon your face.

As you made your way to the porch where Ben sat, eating breakfast that the staff had brought him, you ignored the prickling sensation of his gaze upon you.

Ben's smirk greeted you as you approached, his eyes gleaming with amusement at your disheveled appearance. But you refused to let his taunting affect you, instead meeting his gaze with a steely resolve of your own.

Without a word, you took a seat opposite him, the air between you heavy with unspoken tension. Though his presence still irked you to no end, you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cower.

But beneath the veneer of amusement, there was something else lurking in his gaze—a glimmer of curiosity, perhaps, or maybe even a hint of respect.

As you picked at your own breakfast, the silence between you stretched on, punctuated only by the distant sound of crashing waves and the occasional chirping of birds.

"So, how does it feel?", he quipped. "Now that you're not a virgin anymore?".

Before you could respond, Ben's gaze drifted down to your chest, his eyes lingering on your breasts with a hunger that made your skin crawl.

"I must say, sweetheart", he continued, his voice low and suggestive. "Your body certainly didn't disappoint. Especially those tits of yours".

Ben's teasing continued unabated, his words like daggers slicing through the fragile armor you had erected around your heart.

With each jest, the weight of his mockery grew heavier, until it became almost unbearable.

"Aw, princess, don't tell me you're getting emotional on me", he taunted.

"I thought you were tougher than that".

His words only served to fuel the storm of emotions brewing within you, and before you knew it, tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes. Blinking furiously, you struggled to hold them back, to maintain some semblance of dignity in the face of Ben's relentless onslaught.

"I...I just wanted it to be special", you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper as you fought to articulate the jumble of thoughts and feelings swirling within you. "Not...not like this".

The vulnerability in your words hung heavy in the air.

Ben's smirk faltered for a moment, a flicker of something resembling remorse crossing his features. But before you could fully process the shift in his demeanor, it was gone, replaced once again by his trademark arrogance. "Come on, sweetheart”, he said, his voice softer now, though still tinged with mockery. "Don't be so dramatic. It's not like it's the end of the world".

His words cut through you like a knife, the sting of his callous indifference leaving you reeling. And as you sat there, tears streaming down your cheeks, you couldn't help but feel a sense of profound loss wash over you. Continue. Let Ben sight heavy, telling you, that the two of you can recreate last night, later that day. Winking at you. His words got you even more sad

Ben's heavy sigh filled the air, a palpable tension lingering between you as he spoke.

"Hey, it's not all bad", he said. "We can always recreate last night, you know. Make it special this time".

As the weight of your emotions hung heavy in the air, Ben finally seemed to register the depth of your hurt. His smirk faded, replaced by a fleeting look of concern that quickly vanished behind a mask of indifference.

“Hey, stop crying”, he mumbled.

After all you crying was the last thing he wanted to see. But despite his half-hearted attempt at compassion, you couldn’t shake the feeling that his concern was more for appearances than genuine care.

His words felt hollow, like a bandage over a gaping wound that refused to heal.

“I’m fine”, you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you avoided his gaze.

“C´mon on, sweetheart”, he urged, his tone bordering on impatient. “Eat something. We’ve got a long day ahead of us”. The mention of his plans of getting some weed and stuff, pushing aside your own pain for the time being.

As the days passed, the initial sting of betrayal began to fade, replaced by a sense of resignation and acceptance. While part of you still harbored resentment towards Ben for his role in the events that had happened, you couldn't deny that ultimately, it was your own choices that had led you down this path.

Tonight, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the beach house, you and Ben sat on the porch, sharing a pizza in silence. The tension that had hung heavy between you had dissipated, replaced by a sense of weary camaraderie.

As you took a bite of pizza, savoring the familiar flavors, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Ben. Despite everything that had happened between you, there was a part of you that still longed for something else.

"Damn, I'm fucking horny", he muttered after a while, reclining back in his sun lounger. His bronzed body glistened with droplets of water from a recent dip in the ocean, the fading sunlight casting a golden glow over his features.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his blatant display of lust, though a small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips.

"Always the charmer, aren't you?", you teased, taking another bite of pizza.

Ben chuckled, the sound rich and throaty in the evening air. "Hey, can you blame me?", he retorted, a mischievous glint in his eye. "It's not every day I get to spend time with such a hot companion".

Despite yourself, you felt a blush creep into your cheeks at his compliment, a warmth spreading through you at the unexpected praise.

"Flattery will get you nowhere”, you replied, though the teasing lilt in your voice betrayed the amusement you felt.

As the evening unfolded, the comfortable atmosphere between you and Ben gave way to a moment of vulnerability.

With a shy glance away from him, you found yourself asking a question you never thought you would.

"Um, Ben", you began, your voice hesitant as you struggled to find the right words. "I know this might sound strange, but...do you think, maybe, you could...sleep with me tonight?".

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you waited for his response, unsure of how he would react to your sudden request. Ben's reaction was immediate, his whiskey momentarily forgotten as he visibly choked on his drink.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, a mixture of shock and uncertainty flickering across his features. "You...you want to sleep with me?", he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief as he tried to process your request.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze as you felt a surge of self-doubt wash over you.

"I mean, it's just...I can't remember my first time", you admitted. "And since you...you already took my virginity, I figured it wouldn't...damage more than it already does".

The words hung heavy in the air between you, the weight of your confession echoing in the silence that followed. And as you waited for Ben's response, a part of you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, this was a mistake.

Ben sighed, a hint of frustration tainting his words as he prepared to come clean.

“Look, sweetheart”, he began.

You glanced up, apprehension flickering in your eyes as you waited for him to continue.

“I didn’t sleep with you that night”, Ben confessed, his gaze flickering away as if unable to meet your eyes. “I know it might seem like I did, but I didn’t”.

His admission hung in the air, as you struggled to process his words.

“What do you mean?”, you asked, your voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

He knew that this was his second chance to finally get you, but even he’s a dick, he won’t ruin your first time, especially after you showed him how important it is to you.

Ben took a deep breath, steeling himself for your reaction. "I mean, I didn't want to take advantage of you", he explained. "You were wasted, and I didn't want your first time to be like that".

You blinked, the weight of his words sinking in as you realized the depth of his restraint. Despite his flaws, Ben had shown a surprising level of decency in choosing to protect you rather than succumb to his own needs.

"I'm a dick, but not that big of a dick", he added with a wry grin. "You deserved better than that, even if I'm not always the best at showing it".

As his words washed over you, a sense of gratitude welled up within you, mingling with a newfound respect for the complexities of his character.

"Thank you", you murmured and reached out to squeeze his hand. "For caring enough to do the right thing".

It took you a while to gather your thoughts, the weight of Ben's confession between you. But eventually, you turned to him again, your voice steady as you posed the question that had been weighing on your mind.

"Ben, do you want to take my offer or not?", you asked, your tone tinged with determination.

Ben raised an eyebrow, his expression incredulous as he processed your words. "Why the fuck would you want me, of all people, to be your first?", he blurted out, his tone laced with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

You took a deep breath as you prepared to lay bare your thoughts and feelings. "Because", you began, your voice steady despite the uncertainty. "Despite everything, I trust you. I know you're not perfect, but you've shown me that you care, in your own way. And maybe...maybe that's enough".

A heavy silence settled over the porch, the weight of your confession mingling with the fading light of the evening.

Ben listened to your words: He ran a hand through his hair, his expression troubled as he struggled to find the right words to respond.

"Listen, sweetheart"; he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. But I'm absolutely not the right man for something like this".

As Ben's words sank in, a sense of determination welled up within you, fueled by the realization that you were willing to take a chance, despite the risks. You stood up, feeling the weight of your conviction settling over you as you made your way over to where Ben sat on the lounge chair.

Sitting beside him, you met his gaze, your eyes locking with his as you searched for any hint of doubt in his expression.

"Ben", you began, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. "I understand that you're hesitant, but I want this. I want you".

His expression remained guarded, a hint of skepticism in his eyes as he regarded you. "You think you can handle me?", he scoffed. "I'm not exactly the type to play nice, sweetheart. You wouldn't last a minute with me".

You bristled at his dismissive tone, refusing to back down. "I'm not some delicate flower, Ben. I'm stronger than you think".

“Why settle for someone like me when you could wait for some little boyfriend to come along and fuck you to sleep with some romantic music?”, he challenged, his words laced with a hint of mockery.

“Because I don’t need some fantasy to make this meaningful”, you shot back. “I want this with you, Ben. I trust you”.

His expression softened slightly at your words, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. “You trust me?”, he echoed, his tone tinged with disbelief. You nodded, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination.

“I do”, you affirmed, your voice filled with conviction.

“And what if I can’t do it your way?”, he raised his eyebrow. “What if I end up hurting you? You think you can handle that?”.

You met his gaze, steeling yourself against the doubt in his eyes. Despite his dismissive tone, you remained resolute in your conviction.

“I trust you to figure it out”, you replied. “I know you won’t intentionally hurt me, Ben. And if, I’ll deal with it”.

Ben regarded you with a skeptical eye, his lips twisting into a smirk of disbelief.

“You’re awfully confident for someone who’s never been with a real man”, he mumbled.

"I know what I want", you shot back, your voice firm. "And I'm not afraid to go after it, even if it means taking a risk with you".

Ben's smirk only widened, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, princess", he drawled. "If you're so sure about this, then I'll play along. But don't say I didn't warn you".

Despite his condescending tone, you couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at having finally convinced him to give you a chance.

Ben finished his drink with a dismissive scoff, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Don't expect me to hold your hand through this", he remarked, his tone tinged with condescension. "You wanted it, now you're getting it".

Standing up, he cast a sidelong glance at you, his expression smug as he whistled casually. "Bedroom", he nodded towards the direction, his meaning clear.

Your eyes widened at his directness, caught off guard by his bluntness. "Now?", you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

Ben rolled his eyes, his impatience evident. "Yes, now", he replied, his tone dripping with annoyance. "Unless you've changed your mind, princess".

With a hint of challenge in his gaze, he gestured towards the bedroom once more, leaving the choice in your hands.

As nervous anticipation flooded through you, uncertainty clouded your thoughts.

You weren't sure how to act or what to expect as Ben's blunt directive hung in the air.

Sensing your hesitation, Ben's smirk widened, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Relax, sweetheart", he grinned. "I'll show you what you've been missing".

With a swift movement, he reached out and grabbed your hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. Pushing you softly by your shoulders towards the bedroom.

As Ben guided you towards the bedroom with a firm yet gentle grip, you felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

His confident demeanor both intimidated and excited you, leaving you eager to see what the night would bring.

As you entered the dimly lit room, Ben turned to face you, his smirk still in place.

"Now that we're here, princess, no turning back", he remarked.

You swallowed nervously, the weight of his words sinking in as you tried to quell the fluttering in your stomach.

"I know", you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben's smirk widened as he closed the distance between you, his eyes alight with mischief. "Good", he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "Because once we start, there's no stopping".

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 10

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @kaz11283 @uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #ben x reader

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supercap2319 · 8 months

Text

Y/N, Peter, Steve, and Bucky are in the kitchen eating cereal and watching the morning news on TV. Peter looks at his dry cereal, then at Bucky. "Mr. Barnes?"

"Yeah, Queens?"

"Can you pass me the milk?"

"It's right next to Y/N." Bucky said.

"We're not speaking to each other."

"What? Still? Why?"

"What's the matter? Maybe we can help you guys out." Steve offered as he buttered his toast.

"Someone, I won't say who, has the insane notion of binding our child's powers." Y/N said as he scrolled through his phone while eating bites of Lucky Charms.

"Why is it insane? Ben conjured an energy construct dinosaur because some other toddler stole his rattle." Peter protested.

"One time. He makes one mistake and you're going to hold it against him for the rest of his life?" Y/N asked.

"Guys?" Steve starts, but they ignore him and keep arguing.

"What's Ben going to think when he learns we took away his powers when he's older? 'Gee, Ben. I'm sorry, but your daddy and I were afraid of what you'd become if we let you have your powers.'"

Peter slams his spoon on the table. "I'm not saying hide the truth. It's just growing up is hard enough without the extra burden of having powers."

"Powers are not a burden, they're a gift."

"It's a lot for any child to deal with. Plus Ben is doubly powered, half spider powers, half psionics. Which is why it could make sense for us to bind his powers."

"Yeah, maybe we could rip off his legs at the same time because they're a part of him too." Y/N replied with a snarky attitude.

Peter frowned and got up as he leaned over the counter close to Y/N's face. "It's not the same thing, Y/N. Ben's powers could be a danger to himself and to others. Just like Strange's prophecy said about Ben."

"You know what? Screw you!"

"Okay that's enough!" Bucky slammed his metal arm on the table, getting all their attention.

"Ding. Ding. Ding, boys. Back to your corners. Steve said.

Y/N stood up. "I'm not hungry anymore. I think you need to give him a chance to learn how to control it, Peter. Maybe that's why we found him. To teach him, guide him. Love him. It's going to take the power of three sorcerers to bind someone as powerful as Ben. And I won't go through with it."

Peter watched Y/N walk away from the kitchen, metaphorical tail between his legs as Peter huffed, an angry wave of emotion coming over him. "Fuck!" He threw his bowl off the table as it shattered onto the floor.

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eleanor-bradstreet · 7 days

Text

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 16: Teatime

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer from a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: 18+ - explicit sexual content, drug use Word count: 4.4k

Masterpost Previous chapter

The next day Aubrey Hall continued to teem with activity under the watchful eyes of the Duke and Duchess. Benedict notified Mr. Dewitt that Sophie would be retained as a member of the housekeeping staff during the country visit. If the steward had any thoughts about the whiplash instructions he was receiving in regards to the newly arrived maid, he was wise enough not to betray them.

Benedict’s mind hadn’t stopped whirring since his encounter with Sophie in the drawing room the previous day. After returning from the lake, his sister gave no indication that she suspected anything untoward. It seemed their secret was safe. But how much longer could they carry on like this, sneaking through hallways in the dead of night, scurrying into unoccupied rooms? The risk of their discovery would increase tenfold when the family and guests started to arrive. Sophie was correct that they would need to actively avoid one another. He hadn’t even contemplated what would happen at the conclusion of his family’s hosting duties when he would be expected to return to London.

In the midst of his colliding thoughts, all he could think of was his need for Sophie; his yearning to watch her lips part as he made her gasp, his hunger to make her come apart, his ache to hold her in his arms. He set up an easel in his bedchamber and tried to unleash his feelings on a canvas, but found himself lost in daydreams of her. Rash as it may have been, he sent word to the kitchen specifically requesting that Sophie bring him his tea.

His heart bounded when she opened the door, tray balanced on her hip as he had seen her so many times before while convalescing. Her smile was brighter than the sunlight streaming through the windows.

She set the tea tray on a table and curtsied. “Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Sophie.” Her name left his lips with a sigh of relief. “Are we not done with formalities when we are alone together?”

She returned a coy smile. “Very well, Ben. I assume you summoned me for a reason. Would you like me to sit for my portrait?”

He stepped toward her, feeling a stab of guilt that he could never seem to concentrate long enough in her presence to complete his work. “I certainly intend to finish your portrait. That is a gift I promised you. But I’m afraid my thoughts are too preoccupied to give it the attention it deserves at the moment.

“Preoccupied?” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as he closed the distance between them and ran his knuckles across her cheek.

“Anticipation of my family’s arrival. And thoughts of you. Knowing we must keep our distance once they arrive.”

“Yes, we must.” Sophie swallowed, feeling the familiar bloom of heat just from his proximity.

“But we have today.” Benedict nuzzled against her cheek, delighting in her scent, the faintest hint of amber and vanilla.

Sophie’s eyes rolled closed and she grew pliant in his arms, but her mind still registered the risk of their encounters. “The Duke and Duchess…”

“Are calling at Romney Hall nearby,” he explained. “My sister is a friend of Lady Crane. She is ill and won’t be able to attend the visit.”

“The children?”

Benedict snickered. “Are with their army of nurses. The time is ours.” He pressed his lips to hers, soft and plush, and she was bereft of any further protest. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to…join me in calming my thoughts?”

“How do you mean?” Sophie asked, noting the mischievous flicker across his features, his crooked grin triggering a spark of excitement.

“An elixir procured by my younger brother in his travels. Whatever it may be, I find it both soothes the nerves and opens my mind to artistic inspiration. When paired with a canvas it helps me produce some of my most…experimental work.” He ran a hand gently through her hair, gazing at her as if she were his greatest muse. “It’s an experience unlike any other, and one that I’d like to share with you, if you are willing.”

Sophie was surprised by his offer, that he was inviting her to join him in more than just carnal pleasures. She had never tried any such substances, but assumed the effects must be different than strong drink. On a few occasions she had indulged enough to experience drunkenness with her fellow servants, usually on holidays. She found the sensation not unpleasant, a numbing carefree haze, but it did have a way of stealing joy from the following day when she would wake with a headache and bitter mouth. But she trusted Benedict implicitly. He would ensure her enjoyment as he introduced her to something new.

“How does one take this elixir?” She asked.

“A powder added to tea.” He wiggled his eyebrows and moved about the room, producing a small pouch from a drawer in his writing desk and shaking it playfully before resting it beside the teapot. “Medicinal in a way not unlike your tinctures, but entirely unique.”

Nodding her consent, Sophie sat across from Benedict at the small table and watched as he poured them each a cup of tea and added small spoonfuls of the pouch’s vibrant purple powder. He stirred and handed her the mixture, insisting she take the first sip. Tentatively, she brought it to her lips.

“You may wish to hold your nose,” Benedict coached. “The smell and taste can be a bit foul.”

Sophie did detect a whiff of something pungent, vegetal but charred somehow. Holding her breath, she took a full sip and scrunched up her face as the aftertaste withered her tongue.

“Ugh,” she grimaced as Benedict giggled. “You claim this makes you feel better?”

“Give it a moment,” he grinned. “You will see.”

___

In what felt like no time at all, Sophie became aware of her altered state. A single cup of Benedict’s mystery tea and she found herself able to count the motes of dust that floated in the shafts of sunlight. As opposed to the numbing effect of alcohol, she found her mind and body heightened in awareness. She was fascinated by the friction of her dress against her skin, the tactile surface of the table and the fine china, and the colors of the fabrics throughout the room. Having drunk his own cup, Benedict seemed to be fixated on color too. After ensuring she was feeling well, he had gone to his easel and was blending oil paints directly with his fingers on both palette and canvas, making sweeping motions with his arms, entirely lost to inspiration.

Sophie didn’t know how long she lazed in her chair watching him. The tea made time seem untrackable and irrelevant. She certainly did feel her nerves calmed and mind opened. She was content to simply gaze at Benedict, the man she secretly loved, drinking in the sight of him and every feature she adored. His tousled dark hair, his animated brow, pale blue eyes locked on his work, lopsided smirk appraising what he was crafting. Her focus narrowed to the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, the tendons flexing in his muscular neck, and the veins surging in his paint-streaked forearms. He had rolled his sleeves to the elbows but was otherwise fully dressed in a floral patterned waistcoat and pinned cravat, and for some reason this struck her as aggravating. With every inch of her skin sensitized in a way she had never known before, she wanted to touch and be touched, to taste and be tasted, to learn what it felt like to ascend to the plane of bliss when she already felt herself high above any clouds.

With a boldness that surprised even herself she rose, marched to Benedict’s side, took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. Light danced behind her eyelids as the sweet flavor of his lips cascaded over her own. Benedict froze, holding his hands to either side so as not to cover her in paint.

Sophie pulled back and they both chuckled, heady with the closeness of each other as much as with the tea. Kissing him again, she found herself entirely absent of inhibition. With his hands unavailable she was in control and the realization was undeniably thrilling. There was something she had been longing to try and now was the perfect moment.

Continuing to savor him, her hands went to work unwinding his cravat. Benedict stood still, humming in amusement as they kissed. Once the fabric was in her hands, cool and slippery, she moved to stand behind him. On tiptoe she wrapped the dark blue silk around his eyes and knotted it in the back.

“Blind man’s bluff?” Benedict quipped, sounding befuddled.

“Shh.” Sophie giggled as she moved back to face him and contemplated her next move. The buttons on his waistcoat were slowly unfastened and the garment slipped carefully over his technicolor arms and onto the floor. Biting her lip, she snapped his braces against his chest causing him to gasp before she pulled them down from his shoulders. Next was his shirt. Sophie could hear him breathing harder as she pulled the hem from his waistband. She leaned to his ear and whispered, “Raise your arms.”

Giving himself over to her direction, Benedict grinned uncontrollably as she undressed him. He did as he was told, lifting his arms in front of himself to accommodate her height and she pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it across the room. He stood before her blindfolded and shirtless, chest heaving, trousers jutting out unnaturally with his stiffness. Feeling more seductive than ever before, she traced a finger from his jaw down his neck, chest and abdomen, admiring. He was muscled, athletic, and his pale skin was so soft, smelling of soap and his oil paints. Sophie knelt down to pull off his boots, running her hand lightly down the front of his trousers on her way, causing him to hiss from the sensation.

“Lift your feet.” He obeyed and she pulled off his boots and stockings. Sophie remembered the night at the inn where she had awkwardly relieved him of his clothing out of necessity. This was a decidedly more pleasurable echo of that encounter. They were both breathing quite hard now, knowing there was only one more garment left to remove. Sophie remained on her knees and reached up, slowly unbuttoning his trousers. His hands clenched into fists and she could see him gritting his jaw. She smiled as she slid the last of his clothes down and bid him to step out of them. Now he was nude and erect with anticipation. She delayed a moment, waiting to strike. She would surprise him. She knew he was expecting her hands; how she usually touched him. She would skip that step.

Benedict gasped as her hot, wet mouth encircled him. It was a shock to his system, standing naked and blind in excruciating silence, broken suddenly by his cock being devoured. He reached out to hold her head but she swatted his hand away, reminding him of how soiled they were. Groaning through clenched teeth he fought to stand still and just let her have her way with him. It was agony and paradise combined, a flood of feelings as his swirling senses honed in on her attentions. The minx inside sweet Sophie had been unleashed by the tea and he was both proud and humbled that she was offering her own form of experimentation to match his.

At long last Sophie was fulfilling her wish to take Benedict in her mouth, to show him just how fervently she longed to please him, to worship his body as he had worshipped hers. She found the act surprisingly enjoyable, knowing the power she wielded from her knees. Hearing the needy sounds he made and looking up to see his mouth hung open with awe gave her her own satisfaction in turn. After a few pulls along his manhood she leaned back. “How is this, Ben? Inspirational?” She flicked her tongue across his tip.

He groaned, legs buckling. “Yes, Sophie. It’s…you’re wonderful. Just…just like this. Your lips are like the kiss of heaven.” She chuckled, knowing he would likely spout something poetic even if they were not under the influence. Motivated to push him even higher into the firmament, she leaned forward to consume him again. She tried different motions, licking and sucking, back and forth, her tongue dancing around his veins, her hand rising to join her mouth in stroking. Whenever Benedict moaned above her, she persisted with that action.

Then she tested herself, seeing how deeply she could take him. Slowly, she pushed further and further toward his body, pulling him into her mouth, relaxing every muscle she knew how. She knew he was in her throat once she could no longer breathe. An odd, somewhat alarming sensation but she felt in control. Staying relaxed she began to move gently, sucking him as before, letting him penetrate an entirely new area of her body. Having the most intimate part of him warm and heavy in her mouth was a comfort and sin she could never have imagined.

Benedict positively shouted with surprise as he breached Sophie’s throat. He instinctively tore the cravat from his eyes, looked down and saw her face practically flush with his pelvis, eyes closed in concentration as she rocked back and forth. He was buried so deep that when she finally gagged, he felt as if he were swallowed, squeezed with a pressure and heat that threatened to topple him. He shuddered, mind gone completely blank. Sophie pulled back and came up for air, gasping after his entire length slid out of her beautiful mouth. She wiped her lips on the back of her hand and smiled up at him, looking proud of herself.

“Sophie Beckett, you marvelous creature,” he beamed down at her. With a smug gleam in her eyes she set herself on him again and Benedict rocketed skyward. He murmured praise and suggestions, hips beginning to thrust as she sucked him eagerly. She had a natural talent with her tongue that he knew was liable to destroy him. The warmth of her mouth, the suction of her lips, the challenge in her dewy eyes gazing up at him, it grew too much to bear. As he felt himself nearing the peak he pulled back.

“Sophie, I’m…I am nearly there.”

“Good,” she smiled, tearing away the collar of her uniform and beginning to loosen her frock. Benedict watched, agog as she undressed, stripping down to the waist. Then she wrapped a warm hand around his length and began to pump, her breasts bare and bobbing hypnotically as she stroked him. Whatever fire had been lit within her, he vowed to keep it tended. Gazing at each other open mouthed, she commanded him softly but intently. “Come on me.”

Seeing and hearing how hungry she was for his release brought it to fruition in a moment. Knowing nothing but the wave of ecstasy beginning to spasm through his body, Benedict needed to stabilize himself before he jettisoned off of the earth. His hands fell to Sophie’s shoulders and gripped tight, smearing her in a rainbow of fingerprints as he dropped his head with a cry. Painting her in two ways at once, his breath escaped in halting gasps as she milked him onto her chest.

Sophie never stopped her movements, coaxing him through the aftershocks. When Benedict fell to his knees before her panting, she grinned with devilish victory. She was just as capable of reducing him to a breathless mess as he could her. It made her feel closer to him, more trusted, and more desirable.

“Sophie,” Benedict marveled at her, barely able to muster words. “I’m sorry. Your shoulders…”

He pointed at the streaks that ran across her skin. She looked down and saw the epaulets she had earned. Bright ornaments of sinful endeavors. The fingerprints of her lover seared into her for all to see. The whole room was twinkling in a dazzling spectrum before her eyes and she felt honored to be made a part of it. With a twist of her lips she collected the palette he had dropped nearby and dipped her fingers into a sky blue shade, then swiped it gently across his abdomen, coloring him as well.

Benedict looked at her quizzically, then she ran a purple thumb across his jaw. Catching on, he wet his fingers in forest green and brushed them across her cheeks. Giggling, Sophie next took a daub of orange and swirled it in circles across her chest, blending it with his seed, painting herself with his essence. Benedict swallowed hard, dumbfounded, and then found himself moving like a man possessed, stripping her of her remaining clothing, hauling her up onto the settee and burying his face between her legs.

The day progressed as a gauzy fantasy, the two of them wrapped in intoxicated wonder and all the sensations they could gift each other. They lost count of their climaxes, Sophie returning time and time again to swallow Benedict and bob her head until he gasped her name, and Benedict on his knees in equal measure, sucking her furiously as she bounced against his tongue. After the poetry they penned with their moans, they broke to make art with their flesh, painting arcs, swirls and handprints across skin, gradients of desire and whimsy, blending with their own juices, traces of themselves ending up on the canvas which had clattered to the floor.

Hours later as the sun began to set, they found themselves looking like madmen, wrapped in sheets, disheveled and covered in streaks of paint from head to toe. Benedict had the presence of mind to wrap Sophie in one of his shirts and hide her in the bedroom next door while he donned a robe and called for a bath. He didn’t much care what the maids thought of seeing him smeared with paint with his hair standing on end. It wouldn’t be the first time he had ended up like this after a dose of the powder.

Working together and casting him sideways glances, Finian and Lizzie brought a large copper tub to his room and filled it with steaming water. Lizzie scented it with oil and a sudsy soap that left bubbles floating on the surface. When they finally exited, Benedict collected Sophie again and locked the door behind them. She giggled helplessly while he stripped her of what little she was wearing and helped her step into the steaming water. She shivered and sank down, allowing the water to rise above her shoulders and neck, even right up to her nose, and then closed her eyes. It felt like heaven.

“Lean forward,” Benedict murmured, kneeling on the floor beside her. She did, and sighed with pleasure as he began to wash her back, making clouds of red and yellow paint swirl into the water.

“We’ll make you all shiny and new again,” he grinned, kissing her shoulder as he scrubbed her arms. Sophie leaned forward and rested her forehead on her bent knees, blushing.

“Dunk your head so I can wash your hair,” he ordered.

She slid under the water, a magical, enveloping sensation while she still felt the fuzzy influence of the tea, and then quickly came back up.

The green streaks of paint on her cheeks started to run down the length of her face. But rather than make her look wretched, Benedict thought it gave her a phantasmal beauty. It made her eyes glow as he had never seen them - glittering emeralds refracting all the light in the room. He rubbed the paint from her face with his thumb as she held his gaze. He suddenly found that it was hard to breathe. Probably a side effect of the tea.

He busied himself by rubbing the bar of soap in his hands and then began to work the lather through her hair. “Do you prefer your hair short?” he asked.

“I had to cut it,” she said. “I sold it to a wigmaker.”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she might have heard him growl.

“It used to be much shorter,” she added.

“Back under.”

She dunked back in the tub, swirling her head this way and that under the water before coming back up for air.

Benedict cupped his hands and filled them with water. “You’ve still got some in the back,” he said, letting the water pour over her hair.

Sophie let him repeat the process a few times, until all the paint was removed as far as she could tell and the water had turned a milky purple. “Aren’t you coming in?” She raised an eyebrow and was met with that cheeky lopsided grin.

Benedict let his robe fall to the floor and stepped in across from her. He groaned with pleasure as he lowered himself, immediately dunking under the water and smoothing back his hair. Sophie took the cloth and went to work scrubbing his fingers, his arms, every inch of him. Their incessant giggling was fading into pleasurable hums and sighs as they caressed each other in the water, gently, curiously. They kissed each other’s necks, arms, foreheads. There was a chastity to it despite that they were fully nude together after an outrageously lascivious afternoon.

Sophie was drained. It had been without a doubt the wildest and most exploratory day of her life thus far. She knew she was still under the giddy haze of the tea but her senses were growing sharper. Time slowly seemed to be returning to its normal rate and her mind was quieting. The last of its effects, the joy of being with Benedict, and the warmth of the lapping water made her euphoric. Benedict had leaned back against his end of the tub, eyes closed. Sophie couldn't stretch out her legs underwater without awkwardly laying on top of him, so she planted her feet to frame his head which made him look up and chuckle. She grinned and bent an elbow over the side, resting her head on her arms. Benedict ran his hands lazily over her knees and the two of them sat in contented silence, descending from their high and soaking up all the heat the water could offer.

Benedict stared at Sophie, resting serenely as glinting water droplets ran across her collarbone. She was dazzling. Never a word that he had thought to associate with a housemaid but it was truly how he felt. Where in the world had she come from? This beautiful, daring and exciting woman whose wit, moods, pleasures and interests so perfectly aligned with his own? He genuinely wondered if she had worked in the Cavender house at all and wasn’t some faerie that had wandered out of the woods to enchant him. These days alone with her in the country had been some of the happiest he had experienced with a woman. He was ready to find her an apartment in London, to send her there with an allowance to buy anything she fancied, and to have all of her servant’s clothes burned. He could do it tomorrow. She shouldn’t spend another day working for his family.

“Why do you want to keep working at this ball?” He asked her.

Sophie lifted her head, brow furrowed. “So I can earn some money.”

Benedict sat up and leaned toward her. “You don’t need to earn money. I’ll take care of you.” He pressed his torso against hers and murmured, “I can give you whatever you want.”

Whether it was her pride or some courage gifted to her by the tea, Sophie felt no fear in being honest with him. “I don’t want you to.” Her voice was more stern than she had intended and he scowled.

“Why can’t we just stay like this? Have this time together?” She nuzzled against his neck and planted a soft kiss on his lips. This was everything she wanted, or at least everything that she could reasonably have with Benedict. She would never experience her dreams of marrying him, or walking on his arm in public, or being with him forever. But she could have these days, weeks or even months if she were lucky, where they enjoyed each other’s company and bodies, and she was grateful for it. Incredibly grateful. It wasn’t perfect, but it was closer to her dreams than she could have ever imagined over the past two years. She would cherish these days forever, but she refused to hinge her hopes or her future on them, when they would never lead to anything.

“I don’t want to be kept somewhere,” she confessed. “Locked in a pretty box for you to play with.”

Benedict pulled back, looking insulted. “Why?”

Sophie sighed, overcome with the weight of her emotions and a wave of approaching sleep. “Because it can’t last forever and I will need work to fall back on.” She rested her head back on her arms and closed her eyes. “You must tell me once you find her,” she sighed.

Benedict looked at her, startled. Find who? Surely she didn’t know about…

As if reading his mind Sophie continued, mumbling. “The woman you will marry. So that I will know to leave. Promise me, Ben.” Her head lolled as she drifted off, her last words barely above a whisper. “I cannot share you.”

Something in Benedict’s chest clenched and again he found himself struggling to breathe. Suddenly the thought of not having Sophie around was unsettling. More unsettling than it should have been for having known her such a short time. She didn’t want to share him with his wife. Did she mean to reveal that to him or did it slip out? He couldn’t tell how it made him feel. Once again he knew she was right. He doubted he could sustain a life as a bachelor chasing after a maid who refused to be kept as a mistress. He would need to marry. Hell, a part of him wanted to marry. It was who that was the problem. He couldn’t find the lady in silver but knew that if he ever did and if she would have him, he would marry her and then there would be no room for Sophie. It made him sad and it made him confused and he was so damned tired. So he resigned himself to following Sophie’s lead and just enjoying the time they had together, for however long it lasted.

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @eg-dr3amer3 @time-to-hit-the-clouds @lyta2323 @autumn-grace @sadprose-auroras @the-other-art-blog @goldrambutan @colettebronte @heeyyyou @musicismyoxygen84 @faye-tale @ambitionspassionscoffee @starchaser325 @malna4903 @sincere-sarcasm @kmc1989 @makaylan @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @alexandrainlove @chase-your-dreams-away

#let me be your anchor #an offer from a gentleman #benedict bridgerton x sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #sophie beckett fanfiction #benophie #benophie fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #head canon

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delulu4dean · 5 months

Text

“Audio-Therapy”

Warnings: none

Parings: Dean x sister!reader

Summary: you show Dean the magic of audio therapy

Word count: 1,679

You’ve known your brothers Sam and Dean since you were about ten years old. Your dad didn’t tell you about them, and he didn’t tell them about you. It was a one night stand after a hunt, he met your mom at a bar and you were born. When you were ten, your mom said she’s done raising you on her own, and demanded John be in your life. Unfortunately it wasn’t going to happen, as John was dead. Finding out about Adam was already a lot that year for them, but finding out about you too? A ten year old sister? Sam and Dean weren’t exactly happy or excited. And then the whole thing with Lucifer and Sam being in the cage together happened. That’s when Dean started being more present in your life. Along with him being with Lisa and Ben, he had you sleep over a few times, he’s visited other times. And that’s when your connection to the Winchester brothers started.

Around the time you were fifteen, there was a time where Dean died, and then he wasn’t. And during that time, you helped Sam look for Dean, because one moment Dean was dead in the bunker, the next he was gone, with a letter left behind. Sam fought against you helping at first, but he was desperate to find Dean. This was your first real experience with the supernatural world. Seeing Dean as a demon was a terrifying experience, to say the least. But you knew you wanted to be a hunter just like your brothers. And after you, Castiel, and Sam cured Dean, you begged and begged and begged to be a hunter just like them. Sam and Dean protested and protested, but you didn’t back down. You chose to stay with them instead going back home. It’s not like your mother protested much, she never wanted a kid, let alone to be a single mother. But she also didn’t know what kind of things Sam and Dean were involved with.

Here you are now, 23, living in the bunker with your older brothers, still. You’ve become quite the skilled hunter, and you can tell your brothers are proud. Proud and scared.

You’ve picked up on some things over the years. One being how much Dean bottles up all his emotions. It’s not like you’re one to talk much about your feelings either, you typically keep them to yourself… for the most part. But in your time at the bunker you’ve discovered audio therapy. And you figured it’s time Dean tries it.

“Dean, grab your keys, we’re going on a drive,” you order your eldest brother.

“Where?” he asked, looking up from his laptop.

“I dunno, maybe we can grab some burgers or something.” You shrug.

Dean looks at you for a moment, thinking.

“You just want to go on a drive?”

“Yes, I’m introducing you to therapy.”

“So I’m driving to a therapist?” Dean raises his eyebrow.

“No, just get your butt in the car,” you push.

Dean reluctantly shuts his laptop, and gets up, grabbing his key. You can tell he was not in the mood for anything with the word therapy in it, especially after taking you to your “retail therapy session.” You both get in his car and you put in a mixtape you had to make for the car because no way was Dean letting you just find a way to connect your phone to it.

“Hey, you know the rules,” he starts.

“The rules are stupid when you don’t let anyone else drive this car, so zip it,” you tell him.

“So what’s this therapy?” Dean asks you, starting the car.

“Audio therapy,” you answer.

“What, like driving with music? I already do that. All the time. A little bit of AC/DC and some time on the road and I’m good.” He begins driving.

“It’s more complicated than that. Ignoring your feelings isn’t therapy, Dean,” you begin to explain. “Audio therapy is screaming at the top of your lungs to songs that sing your pain.”

“Like that mixtape you made? The one with all the emo songs?”

“Yes, and that’s what we’re listening to right now, so I can show you what audio therapy feels like.”

You press play, and One Step Closer by Lincoln Park. And as the song plays, and you sing along, Dean just listens. You enjoy your time singing, and then you start screaming. “Shut up when I’m talking to you! Shut up! Shut up!” Dean glances at you before his eyes go back to the road, his facial expression a mix of concerned and impressed.

“You okay, kid?” he finally asks.

“After that song? Yes,” you smile.

“So what makes this different than just listening to music?”

“You find songs that you relate to and sing your little heart out. Someone else already put your feelings into words, all you gotta do is sing them,” you try to explain to your brother. “So are you going to play your music, or what?”

Dean starts playing his music, mumbling the words. You lean forward to turn up the volume before slumping back into the passenger seat.

“I can’t hear you!” you poke his arm.

“Why does this matter so much to you?” Dean questions you.

“Because all you do is hold in your emotions. You don’t talk about anything, you just hold it all in. This way you can at least get some of it out,” you spell out for him.

“I’m fine,” he insists.

“You know, I’ve never heard a person who’s actually fine say ‘I’m fine.’ They’re always the complete opposite of fine.”

“What about when you say you’re fine?”

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you actually believe me when I say that!”

“You’re ‘I’m fine’ is very convincing,” Dean defends himself. “Considering your resting tone is annoyed.”

“That’s not my resting tone, I’m just always annoyed. Like have you ever thought maybe, just maybe, I’m just never fine?”

Dean sighs, as you both fall into silence, minus the music playing in the car. Dean mumbles to the music again, as he pulls into the parking lot of a local burger joint.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks.

“Yes, actually,” you say. You avoid ‘I’m fine’ after the conversation you and your brother just had.

“Are you sure?” Dean looks over at you. “Because you just said you’re never-“

“I’m okay. I’m not great but I’m okay,” you insist, cutting him off. “But I’ll be great if I can get a burger in my tummy!”

The two of you walk inside and order, before sitting at the table. After a few minutes, you’re digging in. Well Dean is digging in, you’re eating slower than him. He wipes his mouth before taking a sip of his soda before looking up at you.

“So, what’s up with you, anything new?” Dean asks you. “Any boyfriends?” You shake your head in response, your mouth full of food. “Girlfriend?” You shake your head again.

Silence falls onto you again, as you continue eating your food, one fry by one fry. Dean just watched you eat.

After eating, the two of you walk to his car and he plays his music again. You just look out the window as he drives around. He sings along to the music, this time louder, clearer. As you look out the window you see you’re not going home, but rather that’s he’s continuing the drive. You look up at him and he’s really getting into the song that’s playing. The drive keeps going for the next fifteen minutes until you’re somewhere. Nowhere? Well it’s dark, no cars around.

“Shit, you’re finally going to kill me,” you joke, in a serious tone with a deadpanned face. Dean did not pick up on the joke.

“Kill you? What no, we’re here to… talk about our feelings,” Dean says. You can tell it was harder for him to say the last part, because Dean has to fight it out.

“That’s the point of the music,” you groan.

“Come on, kid. I’m thinking I’m not the only one you’re doing this for.”

“I want you to open up to me, not the other way around,” you explain to him.

“I will, but you got to open up to me too.”

“I’m just dealing with normal stuff, you’re the guy who saves tons of lives. You have a lot more to talk about.”

Dean sighs, putting the car in park. He looks over at you, taking a deep breath, as he puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Look, just because the things I’ve been through are crazy, doesn’t mean you haven’t been through stuff.”

“See this is why I prefer the music, nobody has to talk. We can sing, we can scream, and I don’t have to feel like I’m burdening you with my problems. You may say it’s fine but I don’t feel like it is. If these feelings are all too much for me I can’t imagine dumping them on somebody else, so-“

“Hey, it’s a lot for one person to carry alone, let me carry the weight with you.” Dean’s hands move from your shoulder to your head, steadying your face to look him in the eyes. “Tonight we’re both going to open up. You let out how you’re feeling to me, and I’ll tell you how I’m feeling.”

And that’s how you spend the rest of the night. For the next hour and a half, you and Dean take turns, going back and forth talking about things. Small things, big things, whatever is bubbling over or irking you, you talk about it. Sometimes one of your problems will remind Dean of something, and it flows into a new conversation. There’s some crying too, but good crying. And this is just the beginning of a weekly check in you and dean start doing. Once a week, you play some songs, sing out how you feel, and by the end of the night, if it’s still not enough, you talk it out.

✰✰✰✰✰

A/N: This kind of sucks sorry I had like a different idea but I did not know how to write it so I just did this.

#supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x sister!reader

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lildoodlenoodle · 11 months

Text

I dont know if I’ve ever discussed this particular head-canon so I’m gonna do it now. As always I love to hear thoughts on my theories so don’t be afraid of reblogging with tags and the comment section!

I don’t think spider noir goes by the name Peter Parker in his universe, I think he goes by Benjamin Urich.

NOW LET ME EXPLAIN

It’s not just convenient to have a different name than Peter Parker meta wise for distinguishing the different universe’s Parkers, I have actual reasoning. But first we have to talk about universe 90214 Ben Urich, the original. (This is going to b very generalized)

This version of Urich is an investigative reporter, who was really good at his job. So good in fact he’s associated with the likes of J Jonah Jameson(in this universe the bugle is a real newspaper who reports the facts despite criminal/political threats). There’s a lot implied that he used to work a lot more closely with Jonah and Felicia Hardy to run an information network, or web, to inform the public and keep organized crime in check. This is what earned him the name the ‘Spider’. To reiterate, the spider was an anonymous identity that few knew Urich was. However, over time he became addicted to drugs and began to take cuts from the organized crime he was supposedly working against. More specifically: the Goblin, who’s basically a mob boss in this universe. He had gone dirty, which is why I suspect his previous colleagues put some distance between them.

Fast forwards: Urich takes on Peter Parker as an apprentice after getting him out of a fight with some of Goblin’s goons outside of a protest. Peter becomes largely frustrated working for Urich due to just watching and reporting instead of doing something, this is evident during the apartment fire scene. Peter wants revenge on the Goblin for the death of Ben Parker and keeps pushing for Urich to go after him, but because of Urich’s deal with Goblin he essentially gives Peter busy work. This ultimately leads to Peter getting his powers. Later on Peter finds out that Urich has been hoarding information on the Goblin but is getting drugs from the Goblin so he’s not releasing it. He’s angry, there’s a shouting match. This ultimately inspires Urich to publish the Goblin’s information but also causing him to be killed by the chameleon in retaliation. While this was happening Peter swings in in his spider gear and mask to attack the goblin. They all assume this is Urich underneath the mask, and call him the spider. And later on people assume this masked spider is the same one who ran the information web.

Now as to the why I think Peter took the name Benjamin Urich: As seen above Peter is very much taking Urich’s place. He’s already taking the Spider’s name and it’s very convenient to have another alias to use with it. Especially one that people(from the underground at least) already associate the spider with. It’s quite literally perfect, too perfect, but that’s another post and has to do with the spider god. We already know he has a lot of heavy feelings with the name Benjamin for his uncle as well as his own middle name, which could be used against this theory. With that said I also think in this universe Peter doesn’t feel a whole lot like Peter after the spider bite. And maybe it’s gradual, but it most certainly starts with the spider bite/god. He is not the same person by the end of his run to say THE LEAST. Taking on a new identity, especially the one of Ben Urich, a man who wanted to do good, to be good but fell short, who wanted a second chance and didn’t really get it, would be a fantastic way narratively for Peter to express that.

And finally, because this Peter Parker is not the Peter Parker that May wanted him to be, but he is exactly who Benjamin Urich wanted him to be.

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theresattrpgforthat · 6 months

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do you know of any solo-player crafting / designing games? like a witch making posions or someone building a cottage? the dream is a pen and paper solo-player architecture design game. or exploration/scavenging??

THEME: Crafting and Exploration

Hello friend, I selected some games that try to fit as many of the different prompts you are looking for here. Nothing fits everything, but everything fits something.

Dust and Void, by Robin Gibson.

The last remnants of humanity reside on Cathedral, a space-faring city, on its centuries-long mission to find a new home. Cathedral relies on spacecraft designed for deep space scavenging for vital resources.

In Dust and Void, players take on the role of these pilots. Players will explore the depths of space, look for resources, avoid dangers, and balance work, well-being and worship to make a name for themselves and build a legacy. Can you bring in enough to see humanity to a brighter tomorrow, and also to stay in the relative comfort of deep space?

This looks like a game that balances multiple characters, but is still designed for one person. It also appears to be a balancing game, so I’d expect being required to fulfill multiple objectives without depleting energy reserves or resources. If you want a game with high stakes and strategic options, you might want to check out Dust and Void.

Courier, by Sleepy Sasquatch Games.

Courier is a solo-RPG where you take control of a Courier—someone who travels the Wasteland delivering and trading cargo in exchange for REP, the currency of this post-apocalyptic future. As you explore the world around you, locations and factions are revealed and recorded on your map.

Choose to take jobs for factions and build reputation to access new benefits all while becoming better at your job and earning new character perks.

Courier is a highly structured game that focuses on exploration and salvage, leading your character through locations and various encounters, including Combat, Trade, and salvaging cargo. You work towards completing quests, earning money, and upgrading your reputation. Courier is probably the most like a traditional ttrpg in this list, and is great if you want to play a game but don’t want to be responsible for creating the world around you.

Guillotine Earrings, by Ella Watts.

You are a magical jeweller in a city on the brink of revolution. A solo RPG.

Guillotine Earrings is a magical journalling game on two pages. Your character is a jeweller living in a city on the brink of revolution, held in the grip of a cruel and despotic tyrant. Over the course of the game, you describe and draw the jewellery they make as they attempt to fan the flames of protest in the city with their art. You also describe the parties they attend, the allies they find, and the communities they enlist as they start a revolution behind the unlikely barricade of their storefront. It's up to you to decide which you prefer - or to play the game more than once, creating different people in different cities as they try to rise up against their oppressors.

This game is intriguing to me because while your character is responsible for making items, you’re also crafting a revolution. Your decisions throughout the game will determine whether you’ll have a better chance to improve your art or improve your revolution’s odds through persuasive checks - recruiting for the cause, making powerful allies, and improving your network. There’s also optional rules for a jenga tower or a pool of jewelry, if you want to heighten the tension and increase the randomness of your results. If you want a game where your character occupies a niche in society that gives them the ability to cause great changes in the world around them, I’d recommend Guillotine Earrings.

Botanicals, by Ben K Rosenbloom.

A game for making potions to solve peoples' problems. For one or more players. You will need some flowers, spices, maybe some bottles or cups, and anything else you want to throw in a potion.

This game can be played solo, although it also has instructions for higher player counts. This game might even work as a single-person larp, as it recommends creating your potions and determining their effects based on their colour and scent. The crafting of this game is more literal than it is theoretical, and it is likely to require some cleanup afterwards, so if what you are looking for is something immersive, this might be a good option. If you’re looking for mechanical crunch, you might want to look somewhere else.

Salvager, by TEU Games.

Collect salvage from wrecked space ships. You will gain in power and equipment. If you live long enough, retire to a life of luxury.

This is another exploration game that brings you across a hexmap as you look for salvage. The game fits on 2 pages, but is full of descriptions of what you find inside the ships, as well as roll-tables determining what your retirement looks like depending on how many credits you save. Just be warned - if you duck out of a job before it’s done, you risk losing money and also retiring in disgrace!

Bad Bad Brew, by CABBAGEHEAD.

BAD BAD BREW features a colourful trifold spread with all the rules and inspiration you need to brew your next potion. It includes all the instructions, several tables for ingredients and side effects, and your Alchemist's Tools to easily change its properties.

The game is designed to be accessible, easy to play and highly replayable. All you need is one six-sided die, writing tools and some creativity to start playing. The average session can be last from 10 minutes to as long as you want.

This is another game that has some tactile components to it, asking you to literally brew some of your concoctions. The game also expects your character to not always get the recipe right - and when that happens, expect a number of interesting side-effects. The game also suggests porting your creations into group sessions - perhaps something that your character made gets sold to an adventuring party! If you want something that can be played quickly, with many possible uses, check out this game.

Renovation, by kay w.

Renovation is a solo journaling game about a house. Whether or not the house is haunted depends on your definition of a haunting. In this game, you play as the house, old and worn, full of many memories and perhaps even ghosts. A new owner has come to renovate.

You do not wish for the renovation, but it comes regardless.

This is a story in which the architecture of a house is a form of resistance - and the new creation that you turn into at the end of the game is a horror, not an accomplishment. This is the closest I could find to an architecture game, using a deck of cards to determine what element of your house is changed. If your foundation crumbles, you are no longer the house you once were. This game certainly isn’t for everyone, but if you’re interested in a horror take on a game, this might be worth taking a peek at.

Masterpiece, by LordPaido.

It was on my walk home from the store when I saw it. A bird floating through the air, barely flapping its wings. At once, ideas began clamoring for attention; moving without movement as the theme for a new poem! But my masterpiece could also use such an allegory, although it might take more editing to make work….I'm so close, and yet, I feel so much further than when I started….just a few days more, and it should be complete.

Masterpiece is a solo GM-less journaling game about the creative process and what goes into making a truly unique work of art. Maintain your inspiration as you draw on the influences of the world around you, past, present, and future. Strive to remain focused and not grow distracted by lesser works. Weather whatever storms the outside world and your inner landscape throw at you – and see if you have what it takes to reach your full potential.

This game lists architecture as one of the forms of art you could use in your creative process. The game depends on a deck of cards, which you draw from to navigate your ideas, as well as tokens, which you use to track your character’s inspiration. Every “day”, you draw and place a card, and then interpret your progress into a journal entry. Sometimes you might draw an idea for a lesser work, which is mean to replicate how artists often have more ideas than time to complete them. The game might end with a finished Masterwork, but it might not! Out of all of the games I looked at, this is probably the most suited to the architecture prompt you listed. I hope you find it interesting!

Games I’ve Recommended Before

Grimoire, by Anna Landin.

Exclusion Zone Botanist, by William Rose.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #solo games #crafting #exploration

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