#Jensen... Control your face!

[magnificent-winged-beast]

Remember that time in the pandemic streams's boom. Misha was talking about his grays, and when his lips were on full display on the screen, Jackles had to do the thing with his lips and tongue like Dean always does with Cas when he looks at HIS LIPS?

[castiel-left-his-mark-on-me]

That face you get when your totally platonic buddy gets anally penetrated.

[castiels-influence]

I don’t think bro was feelin’ that joke. 🤷🏻‍♀️

(X)

[inacatastrophicmind]

Jensen, control your face

[cryptfile]

✶ nuclear seasons, [ soldier boy x reader ]

summary — he was friend’s with your mom. friend is a understatement cause when he appears in the middle of the night looking for revenge in your little apartment in the suburbs, you know he’s far from being nice.

warnings — +18 minors dni, smut, dead dove do not eat, we have a last name (also a mother!), kind of porn without plot? but not really cause it HAS one okay, we call it 50/50, fem!reader using she/her pronouns, p in v, masturbation ( m! receiving but blink and you miss it), dirty talk, age gap, choking, degradation, spitting (i'm sorry), fingering, mentions of injury, cancer (not you tho), tons of tension.

side notes — i’m never experiencing the post ovulation clarity lmao, that being said english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, also i’m a whore for jensen ackles, and i stand for what i like proudly. // 5k+

Nightshade is a hero.

You're proud of your mother since you were pretty young. The hero that fought against Vought to death during the time Payback was active, America’s Troublemaker that you only knew as Stella Nightshade, a blonde woman that talked with the death during her golden years.

Maybe it’s your mother the one that pushed you to fight crime, to pursue the bad guys and look out for the victims that can’t stand for themselves, so even when you don’t inherit much from Stella’s gifts, you joined the CIA as soon as you can so you can do something that matters.

You’re the best in your class, work your ass off to be taken serious, to be more than the look of disappointment you receive when people ask, once again, if you have any powers like your mother and you have to admit — In pure shame, that you didn’t born as a superhero but a baby who cried loudly when is too hungry.

But as years pass you make a name for yourself, one that even if differs from Stella’s job has the same noble reasons behind. You also realize you were too naive growing up, believing in heroes that don’t deserve to be called that way.

The country has made a mistake on making superhumans so openly, and it’s clear that got out of control now, backfiring as they got so much power it’s almost impossible to take accountant of any of them.

You’ve worked along Grace Mallory from the shadows, and even when Stella would not be so proud of you for helping get his kind out of the streets, the justice is enough to feed you and keep you warm on a cold night.

You like it that way. You know Grace has a team for it, a legal army of supe-haters as you called them, yet, you prefer to stay in the dark, not let your personal life get involved cause one slip and you can lose it all— Even when you don’t have nothing at all. You like to have an outside life from work, it’s the sane thing to have, so when the CIA Deputy Director asks you about joining the infamous Boys, you politely decline assuring the woman you’ve been more helpful from the outside.

What would Stella Nightshade would say? Now that you’ve grown older and you don’t look at her the same way you used to when you encounter her files and read about your mother. You know she has done wrong, yet with the years, you don't imagine Soldier Boy himself was going to seek for revenge first thing he does when he wakes up, his plan including your mother even when she was long time dead before he even appeared in the picture.

That night especially you let your guard down. It's been a rough couple of weeks back in work, so when the night comes you're a victim of the stress, victim of your bosses and the people that surrounded you. You pour a glass of wine for yourself, light a cigarette even when you haven't smoked in years, and turn on the TV to see something else rather than the face of Homelander in every single channel you've been tuning lately.

It's a weapon. When you leave for a warm shower and start filling the bathtub, you're not aware of what that night was really going to be for you. Oblivious as you stand naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding the glass of wine between your fingers before entering the warm current that relaxed your muscles.

It seems tension is your worst enemy, makes your muscles feel like stone as you got in the water, the cigarette that hangs from your dry lips splashing with tiny droplets of perfumed water as the silence filled the air. It's what you needed, at least ten minutes with your brain shutting off completely, the pleasure you haven't experienced in forever by being so compromised with work.

It's a much-needed break. The smoke that leaves the room by the almost-closed window, the taste of wine still lingering in your lips as you sip another taste of the crimson liquor you love. You don't happen to notice when he's breaking in your apartment, silent and deadly as you were protected by a door closed and a white curtain.

You don't happen to hear him too. The music coming our from your phone is loud enough to silence the knocks on your door at first before breaking the wood, you're too deep in the still water that smelled like roses and vanilla, to even pay attention to what was going on outside the warmth of the four walls that surrounded you.

There's vapor coming out of the water and you find comfort in closing your eyes, in letting the blow of the smoke travel through your throat before suspending itself in the air, flowing as you drank.

In your defense, you haven't been like that in ages.

It's been a long time since you last fill the tub and have a relaxing session with yourself, so it makes sense you are enjoying it a little bit too much, too much cause when the invader is making a lot of noise when stepping into your property, you still enjoy the taste of the alcohol on your lips.

The ashes fall to the ceramic floor outside the tub and you should blame the CIA to make you so tense to the point it leads you to more problems than you ever had. In the dark room of your apartment, it's Soldier Boy the one who's going through any drawer he comes across, the ones closed, the ones hidden, any slit he can find, any clue that can trace your mother back to his personal vendetta.

He's oblivious to Stella's death and her daughter, so when the former superhero hears the noise in the bathroom he's fully convinced it's your mother the one who's behind that door, that she's the one who's going to tell him the truth, if she also sold him to the russians as well in the process.

He's decided also on killing her. She must need it after all that time getting older, closer to death more than ever.

Of course it's an unpleasant surprise when you can see the bathroom door opening when you're sure you left the front door closed and lock with at least two bolts to prevent anyone from getting inside, it makes you jump in the spot, quickly covering yourself from the new stranger that enters your bathroom.

"Stella?" he asks, it's the last room that the hero needs to check for himself.

You spot the green fabric of his suit immediately as you pressed your chest against the cold surface of the tub, and when the invader notices you're naked, he doesn't look away as any person with a hint of respect would do, but instead, continue on checking you out as you try to cover yourself in the water tinted in a nonexistent transparent color red.

You can feel his gaze as soon as you recognize him too, as you happen to notice that face from your mother's pictures, the propaganda in the TV when he did almost every commercial back when you were a kid. It's a shock, and dressed in his damn suit, you don't know why an old superhero is there standing beneath the yellowish bulbs of the light your bathroom happens to have.

Your cheeks adopt this pink color as you panic, grabbing the cup of wine to throw the liquid in the floor, breaking it against the marble walls just to shatter the glass in pieces, a weapon of defense as you lifted up against him.

"You're not Stella."

Soldier Boy looks amused: it's funny that you think you'd be able to kill him with shattered glass, yet he lets you keep thinking that way when he's enjoying the view.

Is he to blame? He just got out from this giant cooking oven back with the communists and he hasn't got his way with a lady since what seems are centuries, so when he spots you in the tub he simply cannot contain himself from peaking around. You should be in what? Not more than your 20's? Soft-looking skin that asked to be marked with his hands, by the force of his lips crashing in your flesh.

The thought is compelling, you're looking all feisty with the glass in your hand, threatening him and speaking something Soldier Boy cannot catch at first — Shit, he doesn't even notice the blood in your hand that's dripping all over your small rug in the floor, the power women like yourself seemed to have now and weirdly enough, a huge turn on.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream in an authority voice, the same you use back at work when you're mad, when you're usually holding a gun in defense more than a piece of broken glass "Stella is not fucking here!"

It takes a few more words to actually get him out of there, and as he closes the door behind him you finally stand to grab a towel covering from the currents of wind, trying, really hard, to think about anything else more that the fact that Soldier Boy has entered your house and your bathroom in the worst moment, far from what you were last updated with.

To be honest, it almost gave you a heart attack, leaving the bathroom to find your home torn apart, the drawers open and all the papers you've meticulously kept in place being all over the place as Ben stands awkwardly holding a shield in the middle of your living room.

"Fucking hell" you're cursing under your breath as you gathered some important things you cannot leave on the floor even when you're still wet from the shower, expelling this nice aroma that mixed the roses and the vanilla together with your personal scent — Weirdly enough, a fucking show to the hero that's already rock-hard from the peak he had of you from before.

You don't really notice it at first, too busy being mad as you let the papers you gathered on top of the table. You lose the shame you got left as the wet drops of the shower leave a trace in the floor — And as usual, you clearly don't notice it, but Ben does when the water is running down your back, and you're barking something about calling someone called Grace, holding onto a white tower with your dear life.

"Where is Stella Nightshade, sweetheart?" he speaks out loud cause he don't understand anything you say, really fighting to be nice with you like it would give him an opportunity to get under your skin.

"My mother's dead," you stand there without knowing what to say after. You know he and your mother were close, but you don't imagine he was going to actually go find her teammate when he recently woke up in a different country. "She died years ago dude, i'm sorry."

The information gathers in his head as you take a clean oversized shirt from the laundry basket covering with it as you throw the towel to the floor, Red Hot Chili Peppers it says, but he thinks it's a place in Italy more than a band like he isn't troubled already by the fact you were Stella's daughter, the person who thought was her only friend back in the time now dead.

"Does anyone know you're here?" your mind is drifting back to work again as you wondered if anyone knew he was going to break into your apartment and choose not to send any help — "Ben."

You've read his file. Hell, to be honest you've read every single file in Payback, so it's no surprise you know his name, but to the hero, it seems to be amusing when you call him by his real name, his mind fueled in a different direction as he notices you're not wearing any underwear beneath the shirt you're choosing to wear, one whose fabric's barely covering your tights.

"What do you mean dead?" he asks, furrowing his brows "It's not been so long."

"She got cancer three years ago" you explain with a sad tone, even when you disagree with Stella, it pains you to remember what sickness made out of her, consuming her from the inside at a cruel pace.

"Motherfucker," he states clearly angry, and you cannot help but look at him with a weird face, searching for the phone you left in the sofa to call any-fucking-body in the office that could send a damn army to get you: Didn't the Boys have everything under control? That's what you're told anyway, then why the fuck is the subject of matter cursing in your little messy apartment? — "Bitch just got away with it before I could do anything, isn't it? What a fucking shame."

"Pardon me?" it catches you by surprise at first, but it hits you soon after. Soldier Boy is not there to say hello to your mother or ask for her help, but instead, he's there to get revenge and actually kill Stella by his own matters.

Fuck. Of course is something new, something that makes you feel cold all sudden, your wet hair making you visible shake as you became aware of his plans.

"You know them. You know the people from the lab" it's more of a fact than a question, letting the words feel salty in his own mouth. "The ones that let me get away."

He's quickly to gather the pieces too, not as dumb as you think he is as the puzzle is finally coming up together in his head, and it's all it takes for him to take a step closer to you, cutting that space you've created since you kicked him out of the bathroom — He's angry now.

The red globe on his hand is now holding you by the throat, applying enough pressure to cut the air flow going to your lungs almost completely, his fingertips warm against your bare skin as he holds you in front of his figure, pushing you against the cold wall.

You usually would enjoy such activities, yet in the context you are trapped in right now, you began to choke, your own hands trying to push his grip back even when he’s too strong, not even flinching when you’re squirming, gasping for some air as your face became red, tears gathering in your eyes as he let you breathe for a couple of seconds when he senses you’re too close to black out.

“Talk little Nightshade” he says in a low voice. “Or else i’m breaking your pretty neck.”

“I work for the CIA!” You explain quickly as your breathing became more labored by the seconds. “Not for the people who let you out! I promise!”

He’s going to kill you. You can see the determination in his eyes, that predator look he happens to have.

What you don’t know, somehow, is that he’s going fucking insane. Your smell coming up to his nose to make him shiver, the sight of you in an oversized shirt that barely covers your shape is more than enough to push his buttons, to make him forgot about any killing he was allegedly so concentrated in fulfill, the sight of you almost crying messing with his brain.

Little Nightshade is a fucking tease.

His eyes follow your expression, the hand that gripped your neck and choke you harshly now pressing enough to only suppress the air flow in a more enjoyable way, the tension quickly shifting from dying to pleasure all over again as he kept you in place so easily.

It’s impossible to move, to do anything more than be pressed against a cold wall. Your mother has once again lied to you and you notice the relationship she painted with Soldier Boy was more of a movie in her head than reality itself. Makes you gulp in response when you stare at his expression, the face of a trained killer as you knew, fucking knew, a bit more of force in your neck and it would snap without any difficulty.

“I don’t work with them” you assure once again, maybe it’s your survivor skills hitting when you repeat it in a low voice, catching on your breath when he lets go allowing you to fill your lungs with air just enough before pressing that very spot again, the one that actually turns you on. “Fuck’s sake.”

Is that how you end? On your lame apartment?

The next is a weird thing, cause in the blink of an eye he’s close to your face planting his own body next to yours and you’re shivering at the feeling, his armor pressed against your chest as he left the shield he was holding on the floor.

The metal is pressed against your skin covered by the thin cotton of Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, and he is so close, so close you froze there, no longer fighting his tight grip but mesmerized by his damn face, the same you watched on TV when you were a kid, the handsome man you happen to severely crush on in secret, just because you don’t want Stella to know or she will give you a long talk about how he is her age.

But he is, handsome as fuck, and now being so close to his face you can say it with all confidence. His beard is shaved perfectly and he smells incredibly good even for someone who has spent time locked away without any kind of hygiene, his green suit protecting him from the cold air that was getting through the opened window.

“Who are you?” he asks, scanning your face with a curious look as he wanted to know what expression you would have when you know why he's there in the first place — “What do you know about Stella Nightshade, your mother, selling me out?”

Fuck. So that's why he's there. You know she did it. And it's impossible for you to lie when he's making you so nervous, away from any weapon, any form of defense as you left the glass in the bathroom sink when you notice large gash on your hand, and your silence makes nothing more than leave him fuming. If he was angry before, he now reaches a higher level as his grip turns more violent now that he knows you know what he meant, why he's there claiming to talk with your death mother out of nothing.

"Call her then. Use your powers" he demands dryly, and you're shaking at this point cause it's more shame added to the long pile, the bathroom already being a humiliation by itself. "Fucking call her."

You squirm beneath his grabbing, when he's pushing you harder against the concrete wall and you can just feel him from under the suit, hard cock pressing against your belly, green in your vision as he towers over you. He knows what he's doing, and even when you try to be disgusted by it, you find yourself enjoying his closeness, how he's pinning you with no effort at all, hands on your throat while he demanded an answer.

"I can't call her" you admit in a low voice, cheeks now red as the embarrassment crept upon your face — "I don't have my mother's power."

Soldier Boy seems to not believe you for a mere second, after that you can feel the blade of the knife pressing against your skin, a threat that now becomes more real as you can feel the cold metal stomach. One swift movement and you'd be stabbed without a second thought.

It's sick how much you enjoy it when you are squirming against him, goosebumps in the zone he threats to destroy.

A force pull his lips upwards in a smile, unable to pay attention to nothing else but the sound you made without even realizing it. "You like that, huh little Nightshade?"

It seems to be a joke for him, bitting your inner cheek to prevent you from saying something stupid, from letting out a moan in response to all the sudden desire.

Despite all conditions you stay silent, holding his gaze like it's a game you're not going to lose. He didn't respond either, trapped in a second that seemed longer than the usual when time stopped around you, eyes looking like he can surpass the old fabric of the white shirt you choose to wear.

It's the tension what makes you mad. You're so into getting people like him, that your ego is bruised now that you notice you are actually attracted to all of that, to the way he's pressing you against the concrete, how all falls into place when he's pushing himself against you, invading any private space you could require.

He's kissing you soon after. Ben crumbles against the tension as the hand on your throat demands a kiss now, pulling you closer to his face without any warning nor concern as he crash his lips against yours in a rough kiss. You try to push him away in response even when you don't want to; see, it's hard to even admit you have interest in Soldier Boy in any other way more than the professional, but when he's bitting your lower lip you're letting your defense down: When is the last time you've been kissed like that?

You remind yourself you're tired from work, that the CIA has done nothing for you more than fuck your over and over even to this point, losing sight of one of the most important heroes of the word, and it's making you encourage to let go just for a mere hour.

"Lookin' so good takin' a bath" he says, and the sound of his deep voice is enough to send an electric wave through your spine, like he’s talking to himself as the hand on your hip is now tracing the curves of your body, taunting you from over the shirt he now learns to love. His beard is now scraping against your skin and you can feel his lips going down, tracing an invisible path to the crook of your neck as his hand is no longer choking you.

Jesus. Was that even happening or was that your imagination? Did you feel asleep on the bathtub? Maybe it’s a reflection as you are close to drowning, your brain doing that happy thoughts shit. You’re tilting your head to the side just to give him more space to work with and you’re just letting it be, enjoying how he’s sucking and nibling on your skin to leave a red mark behind, all teeth and no fucking control as he uses a good amount of force to make you moan in the process, the pain enough to remember who’s really on charge.

Ben forgets about asking any more questions, he’s too busy when his hand are taking decisions by themselves as they slide under your shirt, body still cold from the bath you just took, water still drying in your flesh when he’s like he usually is — An invader.

His hands are big and they’re capable of holding your whole tummy as he caress the soft skin that seems to expel a warm sensation, how it leaves goosebumps in any place he touches. You remember you’re basically at his mercy now that his hands roam with all liberty under your shirt, the look he gave you in the bathroom mistaken you for Stella, his eyes looking at any exposed skin he could look at.

“What the fuck,” you try to say under your breath, to keep on this facade you have of a composed person, one that won’t give in to be manhandled “What the fuck do you think you are you doing?”

“Well, i’m not seeing any complains” The blade cuts through the cotton leaving a large hole you know you won’t be able to sew after yet he’s right: There are no complains, nothing but eager that makes him go further as the seconds passed “In fact, can see that you’re pretty much enjoying it, Doll.”

You hate the nickname, that old man way of speaking when he’s squeezing one of your breasts with more force you can even handle, cursing at how easy it seems to be for him, how he wants to see you simply destroyed.

“You’re loving this isn’t?” he ask all sudden, studying you with his hazel eyes — “You love being a good whore f’me? My little Nightshade.”

He’s hard under the suit, covered in a green material you don’t know how to call as your hand searches for him, crave for him, convincing that it's what you must do as you trace the invisible lines his muscles made.

Soldier Boy’s messy, much like an animal when he’s groaning beneath your touch, his own body seeking for yours as your fingers grew bolder, demanding for a deeper contact — “Careful there sweetheart, i’m still fresh out of the oven. May be a little rusty."

You laugh at his words cause you know what he means, yet your hands work by themselves as you barely even touch him from over the suit, the hard feeling of his cock against your palm, hips buckling against your hand seconds after seeking for you, eyes shut for a couple of seconds.

“M’being careful” you say, catching yourself stealing a look at his reaction, taking your time on pleasuring him , gulping as he experiences the torture of your touch “Taking it slow for an old man.”

“Old man, huh? Now you're talking” He teases, and the sound of his laugh just fucks you up. Maybe it has to be with the fact he’s placing two fingers in front of your lips while looking at you, swollen pink lips he’s so fixated for a second, or it’s because he is, indeed, way older than you are — “Spit.”

It’s not a command, but it sounds like one as you’re unable to disobey, quickly spitting in his hand as you can visibly see the traces of saliva leaving a wet residue in your chin, one Ben looks at it for a good amount of time: How is something like saliva is so damn erotic? He doesn’t know it, but it’s enough to send him into a spiral.

He’s strong you think, cause he’s a superhero. He’s Soldier Boy by any meaning, so it’s not a big effort to hold you in his arms and lift you in the air as you let out a gasp of surprise, spanking your ass as one of his hands separates your legs for him, holding one up as you stand in the other.

“Relax, 'got you, doll” he says, your back against the wall as he kept a bruising grip in your hip, holding you in place so you don’t have to keep your balance — “Fuck you smell so damn good.”

The roses and vanilla aroma lingers on your skin as you finally understand what he's doing now, his hand close to your cunt as he taunts you, torturing you like you did so eagerly before, his personal pet as his digits get lost in your entrance now, your folds spilled with juice he can physically feel in his fingertips, your arousal's so nice against the palm of his hand he cannot help but kiss you, a feverish desire taking over his actions, the lewd sound his fingers made when he finally pushes his digits inside of you, velvety walls welcoming him as they seemed to squeeze him already — He has made such a good job on turning you on, it’s impossible to not react when he’s finally touching you, pumping into you in a constant pace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, the look on your face is enough to make his cock twitch in his pants in response, imagination running wild as he thinks about that very same feeling in a much deeper way, how you’d look now stretched out, crying just like you did when he choked you asking for information — “Such a nice cunt, so wet f’me.”

He's looking at you, holding the image in his mind forever: Pink pussy displayed for him, white t-shirt rising over your chest, lifting your leg over his arm as his muscles flexed by the force he's using to fuck you deliberately, your lips parted as you ask for more in between erratic moans as his fingers curved inside you so he can hit that nice place he can reach with no effort at all, that one spot thats makes you moan louder.

"Ah-fuck" you let out. Ben's all about touching you for what it seems an eternity, thumb grazing against your clit when he's plainly torturing you, testing how much patience you have left now that he has full control of you.

"Don't cum," he demands, your heartbeats are louder by the seconds as he lifts you slightly, lips attacking your neck before the words escape from his mouth "Need you to come undone in my cock first."

He's leaving marks, marks you don't remember how to hide but don't bother you at all, touching you as he pleases you, taking all the time in the world cause it seems like the night belongs to him — Getting started as you shake your head in an improvised yes.

Yes. The thought is pure electricity, the sudden need to please him as you shake your head once again.

“Please Ben,” you don’t recognize what you’ve become now. “Please let me cum in your cock.”

"Go on doll, put on a show f'me" the supe says with a grin you cannot resist. "Bend and show me that lovely ass."

It’s all it takes. His fingers are now away from you, but you’re now facing the wall as you obey, bending until your cheek is pressed against the concrete and you can hear how he’s now unzipping his pants, the green fabric of his suit now to the side.

You look at him from over your shoulder, bitting the your lower lip as you check him out, his slightly curved dick pointing upwards, precum already leaking out.

“Like what you’re seeing or what?”

“Yeah, but there’s no fucking way.”

You’re feeding on his ego now, but you can’t help it when his size is far from what you consider it’s common — “Common’ doll. You can hadle it.”

You gulp in response cause you know you’re more than eager to try, just the sight of his own hand holding his lenght as he strokes himself making you drool in response. Fuck. It transforms in a need now. When he positions himself beneath you and he’s spitting down to that very place where he’s pushing against your hole, saliva coating his cock before just letting the tip inside.

Lubricated, he pushes a bit more and it feels just damn right. Even when it begans to hurt as he’s thick enough to force himself inside you.

Benjamin knows you’re in pain so he waits a second before shoving his cock inside one more time. You need some time as he stretches you out, clenching your teeth while he works.

"You're doing it s'good" he praises, hand massaging your back as he prevents himself from fucking you at his liking, “Takin' me like a champ."

"God" you let out a sharp moan moments after, crying when you felt the pain more than anything else — "Can't-"

"No doll" he hums as he pulls slightly more. “You can do this” he forces himself in until he's finally balls deep inside your cunt, letting you adjust to his size as he can feel fucking everything. Your blood flow, your velvety walls that squeeze him unused to someone as big as he was, your face distorted in what seems an intense mix of pain and pure, devastating pleasure — "Atta girl."

Strikes like lighting.

Soldier Boy's bitting your shoulder-blade as he waits, waits for it to switch into pleasure, to become intoxicating to the point you cannot longer remember your own name.

"Please move," you ask sooner than he thinks, and when he moves, you can feel it in your belly, melting your fucking brain as he repeated the process again, burying his cock as deep as he could go without any previous warning — "Ah, just like that, please-"

"Do you like how my cock is stretching you out now?" Ben's voice is way deeper than what usually is as he laughs, grunting behind you as one of his hands reach a fistful of your hair, grabbing it with force to pull your head backwards "Good girl, keep huggin' my cock."

You're drunk on the feeling, on the vibrations his voice sends every time he's saying something dirty for you, when he laughs victim of the pleasure.

"Gonna' keep you as my personal slut," he thinks out loud, pushing you against the wall every time he fucks you, using his other hand to spread one of your ass cheeks to the side so he can hit it harder. "Use you as my fucking pet so I can cum on your pretty face whenever I want."

He's moaning, your body’s sweaty as he pulls your hair without caring, not concentrated on the pain it produces as his hips continue on collide against you.

"Would you like that, little Nightshade?" he asks then in a low voice, his thumb pressing against your asshole as he fucks you harder now that you're used to his size. "Could get used to this pretty cunt. Promise to keep my cock whore nice and full."

It doesn't take long. Soldier Boy's moans are now filling the room as his pace becomes faster, slurred words between his erratic breathing when the hand on your hair comes up to finally grab you by the neck, like he can read your mind cause it's exactly what you need to get there, to experience by first hand a set of crashing waves that were getting more and more intense on your stomach.

You're close to the edge. He can smell it in the air when the sound of your skin slapping against his is loud enough to be all you can hear, mixing with the lovely moans you produce when he’s pounding into you with no mercy, fingers pressing the side of your neck with enough force you’re running out of breathe.

It’s messy, violent and you love it, love how he’s ruining you all sudden, fucking you up from the inside, making your vision turning dizzy in response. You’re immersed in the haze he’s driven you into before admiting:

“God i’m so fucking close.”

“Cum on my cock,” it sounds like he’s begging you to do it, fingers finding their way to your swollen clit to move against the sensitive flesh “Come on doll, leave me full of you.”

He’s making you move now, hands now controlling your hips as you take him as his liking, mere seconds until you’re finally crumbling, violently shaking as you finally reach your peak. He keeps on fucking you through your high, long enough so he’s pulling out all of sudden, stroking his lenght over you as his cum finally lands on your back leaving you convered with his load.

Fucking hell.

When you’re coming down from your orgasm shame seems to hit you hard, however for Ben is not enough when he’s kneeling on the floor, eyes on the mess his cock made out of you.

“Wanna go again, little Nightshade?” he asks curiously, and the question makes you laugh in response, forgetting about formalities and the trouble it meant you were intimate with Soldier Boy out of all the supes in the world.

“Hm,” you seem to think about it for a second, his breathing close to your wet pussy as he’s still wearing his clothes in contrast of you being so exposed — “But you’re keeping the suit on.”

He don’t have any complains when he’s the one pressing his face against your wet folds.

Funny thing is now when you’re forced to join the Boys days after that very encounter — A bad joke when you’re now babysitting Soldier Boy himself.

“Been missing you s’much little Nightshade” he admits after a couple of minutes alone in the filthy motel “Thinking about how cute you are, how you felt taking my cock so nicely in your living room.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“We’ll be quick” he promises “That stupid assholes back there wont even notice.”

You seem to think about it for a second before lifting your middle finger in response — “I said fuck off, Ben.”

For now, it’s enough for him that you’re thinking about it.

my masterlist

[daylighted]

─ BITE THE PILLOW, dad's best friend ! jackles

jensen's been breaking a lot of his rules and traditions for a little more time with you -- and he's getting less and less inclined to care.

warnings. ( 18+ ! ) pls for the love of god don't interact with this series if you're a minor. hefty age gap. unprotected p in v. daddy kink. dirty talking. manhandling. he whimpers you're welcome. he actually pulls out this time good for him! aftercare. <3 word count. 4.6k

sneak into his room here!

SATURDAY NIGHTS AT YOUR HOUSE WERE always for one thing and one thing only: football. it was a tradition for as long as you could remember: the living room would fill up with your dad's rowdy friends, slinging ice cold beers back and forth from their spots on the couch, a mountainous pile of pizza boxes piling up on the coffee table.

some things never changed. your parents go apeshit downstairs over a sports game in the living room, you stay very far away from downstairs as long as you can.

not that you didn't show your support in some little ways. you avoided your family and their antics and the chaos of it, but you still wore the blue and white of the dallas cowboys; you weren't crazy.

it was one of those instances where you couldn't just avoid going downstairs, needing to eat something before the night wrapped up. you could only stay locked away in your bedroom with the sound of muffled shouting and drunken cackling through your bedroom door for so long.

"hey, sweetheart," your mom says the second you hit the bottom floor, which completely zilches the attempt you'd been making to get in and get the hell out without being noticed. "comin' to watch halftime with us?"

your face falls, exasperation dropping your jaw and leaving your mouth hung partly open. "it's only halftime?"

"sorry," she apologizes like she personally had a say in how long this game felt like it was stretching, which brings a little bit of a smile back to your lips. "your father started his little indoor tailgating party earlier since jensen's here for the weekend. that's probably why you thought it'd be over by now."

even better. jensen was in the other room, kicking the shit with your dad and uncle tom, probably drunk off of his ass. not that you cared what he did or got up to or anything, it just made the fact that you'd only thrown on one of your dad's old dallas cowboys jerseys on and nothing else a hell of a lot more interesting.

"is there any pizza left?"

your mom leans against the doorway from the kitchen to the living room, hand braced on the wall as she looks. "yeah, the top box at least has a few slices," she says, patting your shoulder warmly. "they've been talking about you."

you try your absolute best to pretend like that isn't a terrifying thought, what with who the three men in mention were. "why?"

"well, jensen asked about your studies, i think, and your dad and uncle couldn't help but start bragging on you." heartwarming as it was, you could only focus on one part of that explanation. jensen asked about your studies. after the conversation you'd had with him last night on the patio, you didn't think you liked the thought or reasoning behind that very much.

instead of pressing, you just smile at her. "oh, that's nice." it was, too, and it sucked that the only thing you could think about was how he'd use the fact that you were acing your classes without a blip on your record against you.

"go say hi to uncle tom," your mom urges, nodding you in the couch's direction, "he missed at your party when you ran off, wanted to congratulate you face to face."

you very much did not want to go say hi to uncle tom, since that meant being in close vicinity to jensen. sometimes, things were out of your control, like the fact that the reason you missed saying hi to uncle tom was because of the other of your dad’s visiting friends.

your little life was beginning to get big complications.

still, your say in the matter was naught, because your mother was nudging you in that direction already by your jersey-clad shoulders.

and there isn't any way that you can do this subtly, either, without more attention than necessary drawn to you, because you make it half a foot from the arm of the cream-colored couch your dad and his friends are spread out on, and uncle tom is on his feet.

"here she is!" he exclaims, like he hasn't seen you in weeks when, really, it'd just been a couple of days, if you counted your party. if you didn't, it'd only been a few months while you were away at school, and your dad provided you with many occurrences where he'd been with tom and he said hi.

uncle tom tosses his arms around your shoulders, tugging you tightly into his chest. he smells like beer and tomato sauce from the slice still held in his hand. he plants a big kiss on your forehead, and you can't even find it within yourself to be angry because of the dopey grin on his face when you pry yourself from his grip.

"didn't come say hi on thursday," he says, dropping back down onto the spot of the couch he took up space in, right next to an arm that you refused to look at who belonged to. you knew. that tattoo was pretty recognizable, unfortunately. "thought i pissed you off or something."

"no, i was just tired." the lies come easier now, which only makes your stomach churn just a little. you shouldn't have had to lie to your family about what you'd been up to, but you certainly weren't telling them that you'd been charmed by a devil to dance with him. "jetlag and all."

there's a reason he was your godfather. he looks relieved at that, like the prospect of you being easy on yourself and resting instead of talking to him two days ago was something he supported. he wouldn't if he'd known what you really were up to that night.

nausea churns in your gut, but you shove it down with force. the best you can do in this situation is avoid the man that'd caused it, which you were doing a wonderful job of doing.

"well," you say on a sigh, snatching the top pizza box with a little smile, very carefully dancing your eyes across the couch and skipping over jensen's in the middle, "i'm gonna go back upstairs, now. have fun with..." you wave your hand aimlessly at the tv screen. "that."

you can hear uncle tom's and your father's voices saying something, but everything is a blur outside of the tunnel vision you have for getting the hell out of there. the stairs are only a couple feet away, and you restrain from straight out running to them.

"hang on," you hear jensen mumble from the middle of the staircase, the clink of a bottle being sat down, "m'gettin' a call, i'll be back."

you literally could not move faster trying to slip into your bedroom and get the door shut before you had to cross paths. sure, he'd be on a call, but you purposely avoided his gaze entirely for a reason. he could keep up this facade with ease, but it was starting to weigh on you.

your door half-latches by the time his voice crests the top of the staircase, and you leave it, hoping he takes it as an invitation to bypass it entirely.

"yeah, i can come by monday," you catch from your spot in the center of your bed, pizza box haphazardly open next to you. you aren't even thinking about eating right now, not when you're so focused on making sure jensen walks past your room and goes to the guest one. "any time good? good."

there's a light tap on the other side of your door, and you're certain that you can feel the blood drain from your body. two more light taps, and the door pushes open slowly. jensen has his phone to his ear, a half-quirked grin on his mouth. "quick thinkin', ain't it?"

you blink your confusion. "what?" your lips mouth, not wanting to interrupt his call.

jensen flashes the blank screen of his phone at you for a second before pressing it to his ear again. "not a real call, pretty girl," he clarifies, the amusement evident in the lilt of his voice. "but you're real cute for bein' respectful about it."

the confusion melts away into exasperation. "you're ridiculous."

"you wouldn't look at me," he says, giving you an exaggerated pout that, just as fast, becomes indifference. "got a little creative."

"why?"

"don't play stupid, pretty girl," jensen steps fully into your room, closing the door behind him. the big fingers that dwarf his phone drop the facade, slipping it into his back pocket. "you're too smart for that."

you cross your legs beneath you, adjusting the end of your jersey over them — an action that jensen very blatantly tracks with his gaze. "you wanted me to."

"good girl," there's a part of you that's thankful he isn't examining your frozen-in-time high school bedroom, and another that wishes he had any indication that he wasn't just using you for a quick fuck while he was in town, because he bypasses everything to get to your bed, moving the pizza box over to the desk perpendicular to it, "and why do i want you to?"

your chin raises in defiance. "because you've been fucking me underneath your best friend's nose, and it's more fun for you to test the limits of that."

jensen's eyes flash with something, enough that his expression flattens, but that carefully constructed mask of indifference is back. "wrong." his weight sinks the edge of the mattress beneath him as he sits. "wrong twice, actually. c'mon, baby, don't make me spell it out for you."

you turn in the bed to face him, fingers folded in your lap. "how is that wrong twice? you are."

"i fucked you once." his smile is bitter and saccharine-sweet at once, a combination that almost makes you want to shrink away. you'd seen a couple sides of him before — the side that flirts with you and death at the same time and the side that pushes you and the limitations you've put on yourself, no matter how cruel it feels — but you've never seen the wolf that crowds you into a corner with his teeth bared. "i've just thought about it more than a few times."

his eyes are dark, the green swallowed by blown pupils that only serve to make him look more predatory. he leans over, his body looming over yours enough that you're forced to lean along with him, spine grazing the pillows behind your back.

"i want you to look at me," he whispers it like it was a secret, and from the look in his eyes, you didn't think he'd repeat them again, "because i wanna see those cheeks flush all pretty pink tryin' to pretend i haven't spread you open before."

you swallow thickly, unable to look away from him. he's got you held captive both in the cage of his arms he's put you in, and the intensity of his eyes. "you just wanna see me squirm. that's not fair."

"no, i want to see you scream my name, but we all can't have what we want." he tips your chin up with his index finger, caressing your jawline with the knuckle. "sometimes life ain't fair. sometimes you gotta take what you can get, when you can get it."

his expression shifts again, less predatory and more gentle, even though the dark of his pupils never pull back from their drowning of the green. "tell me to go away, and i'll go away."

and you should tell him to go away. this was becoming more of a pattern than you wanted it to be, bordering on a desperation that would do nothing in the end besides get one, or both of you, into deep waters you couldn't get out of.

but you think back to last night, how it'd felt to hear that so much of your life was kept in a tight-knit box, never straying loose from what was expected of you.

so you kiss him.

you kiss the taste of beer off of his lips, kiss the scratch of stubble that tickles against your own mouth, kiss him with your hands wound into the strands of his hair, tugging him down on top of you further so you could melt into the pillows behind you.

jensen doesn't hesitate to rise up onto his knees and move to lay over you, held up by one palm sinking into the springs of your mattress, the other pressed lightly against your chest, fingertips tracing lightly over your collarbones. it's just enough pressure to make you shiver, the callouses on his fingers leaving goosebumps peppered across your skin.

they slide down, down, down until they lift underneath your jersey and brush across the soft fabric of your panties. "i knew it," he laughs breathlessly against your mouth, hooking a finger into them and tugging, "naughty girl, prancin' around in front of me in just this."

"you weren't supposed to still be here," you say in answer, though it sounds weak in your mouth. everything sounds weak when he's pressed to you like this, daring you to open your mouth wide enough for him to invade it with his tongue.

jensen's palms flattened on your sides beneath the elastic of your panties, his fingertips pressed into the curve of your ass like he owns it. he probably does at this rate. you're so quick to melt into putty in his hands. "thank fuck i was, then," he rasps against your mouth, and then suddenly, you're on your stomach, your cheek resting into the pillows.

you don't even have time to process it, not before his hands are working so much more carefully than you'd expected from him, tugging down your panties. the cold air of your bedroom sends another wave of shivers down your spine when it breaches the newly exposed skin, wet with desire that never seemed to fade when you were with him.

jensen doesn’t waste any time, erasing any moment for you to feel vulnerable or nervous about your body being exposed — he licks a slow stripe up the slit of your folds, deliberate enough to make your toes curl into the thick muscles of his thighs.

"christ," he swears under his breath, closing his fingers around your thighs to pull you further against him. one of his palms moves to flatten on your spine, pressing it down until your back arches and pushes your ass higher into the air.

there’s the sound of a zipper and the shuffling of jeans behind you, and you writhe beneath him, a low mewl in the base of your throat. his laugh is breathless, breath ghosting over your ear as he bends down. "as pretty as you sound right now," he murmurs, his voice deep and gravely, "m’gonna need you to bite down on that pillow for me, baby girl."

you get two seconds to process the implications of that request before he slips into you, gliding effortlessly between your gushy tight heat. you understand instantly why he asks that of you when you gasp sharply, your mouth hanging open as it presses into the pillowcase.

"shh, what did i say?" jensen grunts into your ear, still sheathing the entire length of his thick cock between your tight walls. "c’mon, princess, what’d i say?"

"bite the pillow," you echo back to him, your voice wavering as he stuffs you full of him.

his fingers stroke through your hair, twirling the strands around his fingers affectionately as his hips start to rock. "good girl. you gonna do that for daddy? keep quiet for him?"

your fingers curl into the sheets, managing a nod despite the shudder that trembles like electricity through your veins. "mhm."

the hand in your hair gathers it into a ponytail and clutches it in his fist, tipping your head back. his lips graze your ear as he whispers, "doesn’t look like it to me. i wouldn’t push me, baby girl. i don’t know if you’ll like me mean."

it felt like a challenge, in its own way. he was still moving slowly inside of you, your fluttery walls stretching around him with each shallow, painstakingly slow movement. he’d chastised you for your blind obedience; did he want you to fight him on this?

you tip your head back to meet his gaze, a fire in your gaze that makes jensen grin wolfishly. you don’t say a word, but you hold the eye contact as you moan, a sound that makes his own green eyes flare.

"oh, you want daddy t’be mean, that it?" he releases your hair to push your upper back down into the mattress again, sliding his palm up to shove your head into the pillows. "always knew you were naughty, baby. someone’s gotta fuck that out of you."

you couldn’t move your face if you tried. each little noise you make in the back of your throat is muffled by the fluff of your pillows. only then does he start to quicken his pace, not as much as you want, but enough to make his heavy balls slap against the sensitive skin of your full cunt.

his one hand stays on your cheek, the other grips your hip, guiding you back against his shaft to take him deeper, hard enough for you to feel the imprint of his fingerprints in your thighs.

"you’re so goddamn tight," he hisses through his teeth, finally beginning to sound ragged and breathless himself, "i love your pretty pussy, baby, y'know that?"

you nod against the pressure of his hand, your fingers flexing at your sides after they'd started to go numb from how they'd clutched at the sheets. you'd been doing really good keeping the sounds to a minimum, but the faster he started to pump himself into you, the less inclined you were to try.

you didn't want to give into his request so easily, but you couldn't help it. your parted lips close around the fabric-covered pillow and you teeth clamp down on it, each moan and mewl from your mouth completely swallowed by the fluff inside of the pillow.

finally, his palm relents from your face, smoothing the back of his hand down the side of your face. "good girl," he murmurs, and he stops touching you and instead, grabs the polyester in his fist to jerk you harder down the aching length of his cock. each thrust is hard enough for you to push forward into the bed, deep enough for the tip of his cock to bruise your cervix.

your legs tangle around his behind you, and he shifts closer to you, making it that much more intense as he buries himself balls deep inside of you. "i'd stay inside you all fuckin' night, if i could," he pants behind you, rugged voice muffled by the soaked sound of him fucking into you, "don't got that kind of time though, do we? never have enough time for me to fuck you stupid."

you weren't so sure on that. every single time you'd been alone with him, you seemed to stop thinking entirely; obviously, considering you always ended up with some part of him inside of you. "m'not gonna last with you behavin' for me like this," he actually whimpers in the rough of his voice, the sound going straight to the ache between your legs, the building pressure of pleasure that you were so close to cresting over.

the pace jensen had set speeds up, and it's clear that he was just as close as you. you were bucking your hips against him, each noise in your throat getting more ragged and desperate. he releases your hip with his one hand, dropping it to clutch your fingers in his.

there are tears in your eyes when you finally reach your breaking point, stinging the corners. you barely manage to keep your mouth around your pillow as you cry out through the clench of your teeth, your legs shaking as he keeps going, keeps going, keeps going.

there was something raw about him like this, fucking into you with reckless abandon, enough so that his groans wavered into little whimpers. you're about to squeeze his hand to get him to stop, to slow, before the tears pooling in your eyes become overstimulated sobs, when he pulls out.

the feeling of the loss is immediate, almost as overwhelming as the feeling of his balls hitting against your clit, over and over. you gasp, lifting your head just in time to see him spilling in your previously discarded panties, the fabric fisted around his cock as white hot streaks seep through it.

jensen's eyes reopen after a couple of moments, a thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead, making the jersey he wore cling a little tighter to his arms and shoulders. he laughs, somewhat sheepish for how you usually see him, waving your panties like a white flag. "tryin' to be responsible." a joke followed by a curve of his lips.

"i'm gonna throw those away," you rasp, just as teasing as he was.

he raises an eyebrow, and you mimic the action right back at him. "i don't think you will," he hums, tossing them aside onto your hardwood floor. jensen crawls over top of you, all but crushing you under his weight as he looses a deep sigh. "jus' gonna stay like this for a minute."

"long call, then," you whisper into his ear, trying to shift underneath his heavier weight to get more comfortable. it was comforting to be so wrapped up in him.

he huffs a laugh, lifting his head to press his forehead against yours. "yeah. long call. i'll tell 'em downstairs i was talkin' to my bank or somethin' important."

his fingers brush across your cheek, tucking the strands back behind your ear. jensen leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, lips lingering for much longer than needed to be. it was this that kept you letting him into your room — the gentleness that only ever came in the aftermath, when you could believe you were more to him than just a convenient fuck.

"wasn't too rough?" he pinches your cheek affectionately, then brushes the pad of his thumb over the bone.

you shake your head, the smile on your lips lazy and sated. "no, but you're real cute for being respectful about it."

this time, his laugh is full and hearty. jensen sits up, reaching across your bedroom space to snatch the pizza box off of your desktop. "probably cold, now, but..." he settles back onto the backs of his legs, setting it between the both of you. "you should eat."

"mmm, not hungry anymore."

jensen shoves the box open, snatching a cold piece of pizza from it and shoving it in your direction. "mmm, don't care." he waves it adamantly until you take it with a dramatic huff. "you got a towel in here? lemme clean you up."

it was a striking difference to the closed-off jensen you'd gotten the first time you hooked up. he was on his feet, tucking himself back into his jeans as he genuinely searched your room for a towel or something.

you take a bite from the pizza slice, nodding toward your closet door. "it's my shower one," you feel the need to explain, though you don't really know why. you're not used to small talk with him. little details and small talk never really came up when you were together.

jensen grabs it and quirks a half-smile over his shoulder at you. "not anymore." his footsteps echo on the hardwood as he makes his way back to your bed. he hooks his fingers around your ankle and drags you closer to the edge of the bed, startling a gasp out of you, and nudges your legs open with his other hand. he wipes the towel gently up and down the inside of your thighs, glancing up at you through the short strands that fall in his eyes. "keep eatin'."

"you're distracting me." and he was. it was domestic, in a way, how gingerly he held your ankle and how careful he was with the towel between your legs.

jensen shrugs. "don't care," he repeats, though he follows it with a warm, teasing smirk, "keep eating or i'll start."

what kind of masochist were you if that sent a renewed thrill down your spine? jensen catches the sparkle in your eyes and shakes his head, tossing the towel in the same direction as your defiled panties. "you are becoming a little fiend."

you give him a toothy smile. "your fault."

"oh, my fault?" he leans in like he's going to kiss that smile, and at the last second, turns his head to steal a bite from your pizza. you gasp in surprise, laughter bubbling out of you before you can stop it. "i think i'm just pullin' the deviant out of you."

"you're pulling something out, alright," you shoot back through the fit of laughter, and he is utterly captivated by it. it makes you all too aware of how close he is, of each sweep of his eyes over your expression.

jensen leans in to kiss your forehead again, another lingering one that eases the slight tremor in your muscles still. "you'll be okay if i head back down?"

you don't want him to, and the grimace on his lips makes you think he doesn't want to, either, but you nod regardless. as he'd said before, the moments you had together were fleeting and weighted. "i'll run you a bath in the bathroom, when i head out. should be warm by the time you finish eatin'," he says, brushing your hair back out of your eyes, "and no one down there will hear the water runnin' for a few extra minutes over your uncle tom's damn shouting."

"he loves football," you say in his defense, ignoring every other bit of information he tells you so that you don't do something stupid like take it anyway else but face value. he probably wouldn't be like this again next time. there probably wouldn't be a next time. he had one day left at your house, and then he'd go back to wherever he lived, out of your life.

jensen's face falls at whatever is reflected in your eyes, and he kisses your cheek this time, the stubble tickling the skin around your lips. "you can come down after, if you want," he offers, pressing his forehead against yours. "i'll behave."

you smile, settled again from the bout of unease. "if i'm not too tired."

"i'll save you a seat."

jensen slips away, then, steps slow and reluctant like he was waiting for you to invite him back in, even though both of you knew he couldn't. he keeps the door gapped again just like you'd had it before his arrival with one last look over his shoulder at you, something unreadable and soft in his eyes.

moments later, you hear the water start to run in the bathroom at the end of the hall, and you smile to yourself.

maybe you lived as prominently in his head as he did in yours. maybe, you'd started to unravel the elusive mystery of his closed-off exterior, one day at a time.

notes | sigh i love them. they r everything 2 me. i am so excited 2 finally get this out of the drafts! ───ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfeedback & reblogs appreciated <3 !!

tags | @soldiersgirl @seven7lee @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @winchestersbgirl @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @lonelylonelybaby @mourningthewicked @ultravi0lence14 @1-imbroglio @hughesinthebox @angels-silhouette @blossomingorchids @chris444evr @cassiecourtemanche @writtenbyhollywood @adrienneleclerc @losers-clvb @bluemerakis @fuckedupfate @legalmente-loca @k-slla @fxckingjo @blueschevy @fitxgrld @viluren @youdontknowe @sizzlingcheesecakepanda @cupidluvzz @lanasgirlfr @h8aaz @coralfacecrown @doublecrazyyymofo @1ghxstt1 @mahi-wayy @narniabusinessbitch @zqarax @angelicjackles @arcannaa @am0rem @sthefferrete @v1v1-3 @spxideyver @suckitands33 @beausling @pieandflannel @briisbananass @cowboysandcigarettes @deanswidow @aurevina

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hi molly! For the conversation hearts (thank you so much for doing this 🥺🥰):

Jake Jensen + Kiss Me

off-limits

pairing: bodyguard!jake jensen x female reader

summary: you're spending your valentine's day at home alone with your bodyguard, who you have a major crush on. when you start to wonder if he might like you as well, you use some conversation hearts to find out his true feelings.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, dry humping/dry sex, breast play, nipple sucking, biting, cumming while fully clothed, orgasm control/permission, light bdsm, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (princess, dream girl), aftercare, non-graphic allusions to more sex

word count: 4.4k

a/n: thank you for sending in a prompt, Essie!! i always enjoy writing for Jake—he's just such a fun character to play around with, and he's a perfect fit for the "idiots in love" trope, which is one of my favorites. plus, he's always so sweet, which lends itself perfectly to some sweet and smutty valentine's shenanigans 🤭 thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

Jake Jensen was off-limits. He was so far off-limits. He was your bodyguard, for fuck’s sake. But that didn’t seem to matter to your pitiful heart. You were hopelessly crushing on the big, broad-shouldered mercenary with the goatee and glasses, and the charmingly crooked smile that made butterflies take flight in your belly every time he flashed it in your direction.

And no matter how much time you spent with Jake Jensen, no matter how much you whined and wheedled to get to know him, until he was keeping you updated about his sister’s terrible boss and his niece’s soccer team’s excellent record, your crush just wouldn’t go away. 

You were infatuated with the exact shade of sapphire of Jake’s eyes, and the nervous laugh that fell from his lips when he was flustered. You were downright smitten with the way he’d talk to your stuffed animals when he thought you weren’t looking—and the way he’d give them all funny little voices when he knew you were watching him do a sweep of your room. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining Jake in your bed, his strong arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your neck while you woke up. You’d have bet anything that Jake was the best at cuddling, and you could so easily picture the way you’d wiggle your ass in his lap, enticing him into some slow morning sex…

You shook your head, clearing that wildly inappropriate thought from your mind and tried to focus back on your TV. A romantic comedy was playing on the screen, the lights in your living room dimmed low, and there was a whole spread of festive snacks and candies on the coffee table. None of which had been touched.

Admittedly, you may have gone a little overboard for a Valentine’s Day spent home alone with your bodyguard, watching movies while candles flickered romantically around the room. But, in your defense, Jake hadn’t been meant to work Valentine’s Day. It had been Roque’s turn in the rotation, but the gruff man had come down with something at the last minute. 

You knew Clay had called all the others before he’d called Jake, but Pooch and Cougar were busy, and since he didn’t want to play babysitter himself on Valentine’s Day—no matter how many favors he owed your father—he’d finally called Jake. Jake, of course, had no other plans and had happily agreed to take the shift watching you.

He’d turned up so quickly at your doorstep, relieving Clay to go get ready for his date, that you couldn’t help but wonder if Jake had broken some speeding laws getting to your apartment. He’d been wearing his usual puppy-dog grin and gave you a box of conversation hearts before wishing you a happy Valentine’s Day while Clay rolled his eyes. 

The head of your security team had fixed Jake with a pointed look before leaving the two of you alone. Even though no words had been exchanged, even you could tell Clay had given Jake some type of warning, though you couldn’t imagine what it could’ve been about. Jake was always polite and respectful when he was with you. 

It was you who had all the inappropriate thoughts about your bodyguard.

On the TV, the romcom leads were bickering about something. It was still early on in their love story and they were still convinced they hated each other. However, it was painfully obvious to anyone watching that they both had feelings for the other. 

You’d seen the movie plenty of times, so you risked a glance at Jake, who was lounging comfortably on the other end of your couch. You caught his blue eyes darting away from your face and had the distinct impression he’d been looking at you, though you decided that couldn’t be true. 

Surely you would’ve noticed if your bodyguard had been staring at you. Wouldn’t you?

The question gave you pause. You’d grown so used to being watched, whether it was by the mercenaries your father had hired as your bodyguards or by any of the strangers who stared at you and your entourage with curiosity when you went outside. You supposed you’d long since stifled whatever sense people got when they were being watched.

As you ruminated on the idea, you were staring at Jake, which you didn’t notice until he leaned forward suddenly and grabbed a handful of popcorn from a bowl on the table. He shoved the whole lot into his mouth and cut a glance in your direction, coughing when he realized you were still watching him. He gave a laugh, the one he always let out when he was flustered, and it hit you like a lightning strike.

Jake Jensen liked you. 

Your eyes watched him closely, taking in the slight pink tinge of his cheeks and the way his bright blue eyes kept cutting over you to like he was uncertain. His fingers pushed up his glasses and he coughed into his fist. 

He was nervous. Of that, you were sure. But given who your father was, it wasn’t out of the norm for people to be nervous around you. You had to know if Jake was nervous because of your father, or because he liked you.

Turning back to the spread of food on the coffee table, you spotted the box of conversation hearts and a plan began to form in your mind.

As casually as you could manage, you grabbed the box and ripped it open, your eyes fixed unseeingly on the TV as you tried to pretend to be watching the movie. For a few minutes, you sat in silence, making it seem like you were engrossed in the movie, though you were much more interested in watching Jake out of the corner of your eye. 

He kept looking over at you. Long, lingering looks that didn’t seem to have anything to do with making sure you were safe. You couldn’t believe you’d never noticed it before—you must’ve been too wrapped up in your own thoughts about your bodyguard to see it.

Your heart raced in your chest with the possibility that you were right, that Jake Jensen might like you just as much as you liked him. But you knew you had to be careful. You didn’t want to spook your bodyguard—not if you wanted him to be so much more than that.

“Do you want one?” you asked, forcing your voice to remain casual as you turned to Jake and held up the box of conversation hearts. You shook it for good measure. 

Jake’s eyes darted between your face and the box, like he could sense a trap. But when you refused to give anything away with your expression, he sighed and reached a hand out. 

“Sure, princess, I’ll take one.”

A small smile played around the corners of your lips and you peered into the box, rooting around until you found one that had a message you wanted to convey to Jake. Finally, you found a pink one that said Kiss me, and your heart lurched excitedly in your chest.

You grabbed the candy and dropped it into Jake’s palm, a shiver racing down your spine when your fingertips brushed against his warm, calloused skin. Little tingles of awareness darted through your body and you had to bite back a gasp as you drew your hand back, watching intently as Jake brought his hand to his mouth. 

But he wasn’t even looking at what the heart said! How was your plan supposed to work if he didn’t even read what it said? 

A little distressed sound fell from your lips and you cried, “Jake!” 

The big bodyguard froze instantly, his head whipping around and blue eyes darting sharply toward the door like he was expecting a team of mercenaries to barge into your apartment and threaten your life. When he couldn’t find any danger, Jake turned his gaze on you, his blue eyes bright with panic behind the frames of his glasses.

“You can’t eat a conversation heart without reading it first,” you said, infusing your voice with an innocent playfulness while you rolled your eyes at him, as if it was a hard and fast rule of eating the Valentine’s candy and he was breaking it. 

The side of Jake’s mouth pulled up in a crooked smile—sending butterflies fluttering and swooping in your belly—and he glanced down, taking care to turn over the little heart in his palm to read what it said. You could tell when he had because he went still again, a light pink blush tinging his cheeks.

“Princess,” he grumbled, keeping his head ducked while his finger traced the candy in his hand. 

“Y’know, I heard it’s bad luck to ignore the words on a candy heart given to you by someone you care about,” you said in what you hoped was an innocent tone. You turned your head back toward the TV, but kept your eyes on your bodyguard, wondering what he was going to say or do to that.

“Princess.”

That time, your pet name was a groan from Jake’s lips as he tipped his head back and closed his fist around the candy. Despite the torture in his tone, your body lit up, responding to the gruff way he said the pet name. Your mind instantly wandered to other ways you could make him groan it like that. Maybe with your mouth pressed to his bulge…

Jake was staring at you, his blue eyes blazing with heat and hunger and so much restraint, it cracked something open inside you. It wasn’t like you to allow yourself to be vulnerable around anyone, but there was something about the way Jake was looking at you that made you think you could take a chance with him.

“Please, Jake,” you murmured, your voice quiet and pitiful as you begged him openly. “It’s just a kiss—and I haven’t been kissed in so long.”

Jake groaned again, and your body was lighting up all over again, tingles dancing along your nerves and butterflies soaring in your belly. But your bodyguard distracted you from your body’s reaction by grabbing your hips and dragging you across the couch until you were right next to him. 

Your bare thigh was flush against his, your skin pressed to the rough jeans he was wearing. You almost couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your leg pressed against Jake’s, but he made a sound and you looked up at him.

Jake loomed over you, his blue gaze darkening as they flicked between your eyes and your mouth, like he was considering giving you exactly what you’d asked for. That realization made your breath catch in your throat and you leaned into his side, basking in his warmth and letting the spicy scent of his cologne fill your senses. 

“Just this once,” Jake said sternly, his gaze roving over your face like he was trying to memorize every bit of it and commit it to his mind. “Clay’s going to fucking kill me,” he muttered, but you didn’t have a chance to wonder over what he meant by that.

Because, in the next moment, Jake was ducking down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

Fireworks exploded behind your eyes, a sizzling, sparkling feeling of delight filling your body from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head. It was better than you ever imagined, and you couldn’t get enough, chasing after Jake’s mouth when he tried to pull away, sucking on his lower lip and feeling the tickle of his goatee when he kissed you again, harder.

Your fingers twisted in the soft cotton of Jake’s t-shirt, pulling him closer while you stretched and arched into him. Beneath your fingertips, you could feel his heart racing in his chest, matching the quick rhythm of your own, and you smiled against his lips.

All too soon, Jake was pulling away, his hands cupping your face and easing you back when you tried to kiss him again. 

A disgruntled noise fell from your lips and you followed Jake as he retreated, sitting up and swinging a leg over his thighs. Before you even knew what you were doing, you were sitting in Jake’s lap, both of you blinking at each other like neither of you knew how you’d gotten there.

Jake’s hands idly kneaded your hips through the lounge shorts you’d worn to look cute and casual on your Valentine’s Day in, and your eyelashes fluttered at the feeling of his firm grip on your body. It was enough to have heat pooling between your thighs, wetness gathering and dripping into your panties, but you forced yourself to focus. 

You grabbed the candy heart that read Kiss me from the couch cushion where it had fallen when Jake had kissed you and you pressed it against his full lower lip. Wordlessly, Jake opened for you, and you placed the candy on his tongue, watching greedily as he closed his mouth around it.

The two of you hung in a suspended moment, your eyes fixed on Jake’s perfect mouth and deciding whether you wanted to try to lick the candy from his tongue. Jake’s hands squeezed your hips hard, and you glanced up into his eyes, finding his pupils blown so wide, they nearly blotted out the bright blue of his irises. 

“Princess,” he rumbled, his voice full of warning. Inexplicably, though, his tone only made you squirm in his lap, biting back a gasp when your core grazed against something hot and hard in Jake’s jeans.

“Jakey,” you whined softly, looping your arms around his broad shoulders and pressing your soft tits against his hard chest through your oversized sweater. You pouted up at your bodyguard from under your lashes, giving him what you hoped was both an innocent and enticing look. 

Jake cupped your cheek and he grinned crookedly, ducking down to press a kiss to your lips. 

“You’re gonna get me fired,” he murmured teasingly when he pulled away, but you tugged him back, kissing him more firmly.

“I’d never let Clay fire you,” you said fiercely, drawing back enough to stare into Jake’s eyes. His glasses were a little askew and you fixed them carefully, smiling softly at him. 

Jake huffed a laugh and grabbed the box of conversation hearts from the other side of the couch. You sat back, curious about what he was doing, but also a little excited that he was clearly continuing your idea of communicating through candy. 

He cupped his hands, preventing you from seeing what candy heart he was picking out until he found the one he wanted. Then he grabbed your hand and held it palm up, dropping one of the conversation hearts into your palm, which you eagerly pulled closer so you could read it.

Dream Girl.

“Jake,” you breathed on a delighted sigh. Looking up, you caught him smiling that crooked grin at you, the butterflies in your belly rioting with happiness as you smiled back at him. “Am I really your dream girl?” you asked a little shyly, ducking your head and looking up at him.

“Yeah, you are,” he said softly, snagging the candy from your hand and pressing it to your lips. He watched you take it on your tongue and close your lips around it. 

Jake gave you a moment to suck on the candy and revel in the chalky sweetness of it before he was cupping your face and tugging you in for another kiss. He licked the sugary sweet taste from your lips, making you moan softly into his mouth as you melted into him.

That time, there was no pulling away. There was none of Jake trying to hold himself back and you chasing after him to make sure he didn’t put distance between the two of you. There was only your mouths fused together, your tongues exploring each other, your breaths mingling as you kissed and kissed and kissed while the romantic comedy played in the background.

After a while, the heat that had built up in your body became nearly unbearable, and your hips squirmed on Jake’s lap restlessly, needing something. Your core brushed against the hard ridge of Jake’s bulge in his jeans and you moaned obscenely into his mouth, pressing down hard enough that you could feel him twitch against your heat.

“That’s a good girl, grind on my cock, princess, take what you need,” Jake muttered, pressing hot kisses to your neck while you rocked on him. His glasses got knocked askew and he took them off, putting them aside with one hand while the other guided your hips to grind harder on his lap.

“Jakey, you feel so good,” you moaned, rolling your hips and grinding your wet slit down on his bulge through your clothes. A part of you wanted to tear through all the fabric that was separating your bodies, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself, the pleasure too good and quickly driving higher and higher. “God, it’s been so long, I’m gonna cum so fast.”

Jake made a rumbling sound, like hearing that pleased him, and his hands grabbed your hips more roughly, his strong fingers kneading your ass and helping you hump harder on his cock. 

“Good girl, wanna feel you cum on my cock, princess,” he rumbled, his sweet praise making your body hotter and your slit wetter as you rode him through your clothes. “Want you to make a mess all over my lap.” 

“Jakey, Jakey, Jakey,” you whined, leaning back and changing the angle of your hips as you ground down on his bulge. Your fingers clung to the back of Jake’s neck and you panted as your body strained, rocketing toward your release, but you knew you wouldn’t get there without something else. “I need…” you huffed unhappily, not knowing what you needed. 

“I got you, princess,” Jake murmured, pushing your sweater up and pressing a hand between your shoulder blades, lifting your tits to his mouth. His lips wrapped around one pebbled nipple and he sucked, flicking his tongue over the hardened peak and making you cry out. “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, princess, you’re my fucking dream girl.”

“Oh god, oh Jake, that feels so good,” you babbled, shoving your chest into Jake’s face and pressing your pussy down on his rock hard cock. You began grinding your clit down on his hard length, and you knew you’d reach your release in moments, your lips parting with a gasp as you asked, “Please, can I cum, Jakey?”

Jake froze for just a second, then he was giving your nipple one last affectionate flick of his tongue before moving to the other. He wrapped his lips around it, sucking the hard peak and the softness of your breast into his hot mouth as he stared up at you with his bright blue eyes. 

“You need my permission, princess?” Jake asked teasingly, letting your tit fall from his mouth so he could lean up and cup your face, pressing a heated kiss to your lips. 

“Yes, Jake, please,” you begged in a tight voice, holding yourself back from cumming. 

“You have it,” he rumbled, a ghost of his crooked grin on his lips. “In fact, it’s an order—cum on my cock, princess, let me feel you come apart in my lap.”

Jake’s fingers pinched your nipple at the same time as his hips thrust up from beneath you, his other hand holding you firmly on his lap so his cock was wedged perfectly between your thighs. It was too much and too good and too perfect and the tension in your core snapped. 

You shattered apart with a sharp cry that Jake swallowed with another kiss. His arms wrapped around you and held you tightly as your body shook through the pleasure of your release. Your hips stuttered and your pussy clenched around nothing, and you moaned obscenely into Jake’s mouth until you needed to pull away to gasp for air.

“Oh fuck, you’re so fucking pretty, so fucking gorgeous cumming on my cock,” Jake babbled, pressing kisses to your jaw and neck and cheeks and anywhere he could reach. “I’m gonna—oh shit.”

He groaned loudly, pressing his face into the valley between your tits, his goatee tickling your sensitive skin while his hips rutted up into you from below. Between your thighs, you could feel his cock twitching and a growing wetness pressing into the heated flesh of your legs. 

It took you a long moment for your pleasure-dazed mind to realize what had happened, but when you did, you wrapped your arms around Jake’s neck and raked your nails soothingly through the short hair at the back of his head. 

“Jakey,” you purred, enjoying the way he shuddered through the remnants of his release, his cum sticky through his jeans and cooling rapidly on your inner thighs. “Did I really just make you cum in your pants?” 

“Yes.”

The word was grumbled against your tits a moment before Jake sank his teeth into the soft flesh, making you squeal and writhe on his lap. You may have just gotten off, but you already wanted more. You wanted Jake’s cock buried inside you, filling you completely while he made love to you slow and hard, whispering praises in your ear. 

“You’re too fucking perfect, my fucking dream girl,” Jake muttered, licking his tongue over your skin to soothe the place where he’d just bitten. His tone was a little resentful, and you could tell from the way he was refusing to meet your eye that your big, tough bodyguard was feeling a little insecure about cumming in his pants.

“And you’re my dream guy, Jakey,” you murmured, squeezing him tight and dropping a kiss to his forehead. 

Your words made Jake finally look up, though it was only to give you a dubious look. You laughed lightly and raked your nails through his hair, petting him affectionately.

“My dream guy is someone so obsessed with me that he’d cum in his pants just from watching me cum in his lap,” you explained, grinning down at Jake and lifting him up for a kiss that felt like a promise. “I love that I made you cum, Jakey—especially since it means we have to throw your clothes in the wash now.”

A wicked grin curled your mouth as you pushed yourself up on shaky legs and stood from the couch, dragging Jake up after you. He grabbed his glasses and put them back on, then let you drag him into the laundry room off the kitchen in your apartment. His eyes darkened as you knelt down and undressed him, a groan slipping from his lips as you took your time cleaning him up with your mouth.

When you finally made it back to the couch, the credits were rolling on the movie you’d put on, so you started up another one, barely glancing at the title. You were too distracted by the sight of Jake in one of your t-shirts and a pair of oversized sweatpants that fit him just snugly enough that you could see the outline of his cock through the fabric.

The sound of candy shaking in a cardboard box pulled your attention away from Jake’s lap and you found him searching through the conversation hearts again. You curled into his side and waited patiently while he picked one out, then held up your hand eagerly when he gestured for it.

Be Mine.

Your heart thumped happily in your chest and you popped the candy into your mouth before leaning up and kissing Jake, sharing the chalky sweet taste of the candy with him. 

“I’m all yours, Jakey,” you promised, whispering the words against his lips, unable to stop yourself from grinning wildly. 

“And I’m all yours, princess,” he echoed, pulling away only long enough to pull off his glasses and set them aside. Then he was pushing you down onto your back on the couch and settling between your thighs. “You’re my dream girl.”

“You’re my dream guy,” you said, pulling him down for a kiss. 

It was a long time later when the two of you finally came up for air. Jake’s cell phone was buzzing on the coffee table and he grabbed it, glowering at the screen before typing a response with one hand. He tossed it back down before returning his attention to you. 

“We’re going to have to tell Clay about us, aren’t we?” you asked, giving Jake, then his phone, a wary look. 

Jake huffed a laugh and buried his face in your neck. “Apparently, he already knows,” he muttered.

That gave you pause, and Jake must’ve felt the change in your body because he lifted up, giving you a wry smile. “They all know I’ve had feelings for you since we started this security gig,” he explained. “Clay was saying my lack of timely responses prove Roque’s matchmaking efforts finally worked.”

Your eyes widened as you understood what Jake was saying. Roque hadn’t really been sick, he’d been trying to get you and Jake together on Valentine’s Day. You felt a sudden surge of affection for the gruff man, and even for the leader of the security team, since it seemed he didn’t mind you’d definitely acted inappropriately with your bodyguard.

But that made you wonder, “Will you still be my bodyguard?”

A crooked grin spread across Jake’s face and he ducked down to kiss you. “Of course, princess,” he murmured, squeezing you tight in his arms. “Clay knows I’ll take even better care of you now—I’ll be the best bodyguard you’ve ever had.” He brushed a kiss to your cheek, making you giggle at the tickle of his goatee. “He’s sending Cougar over to watch our backs, though.”

That made you giggle and pull Jake’s face back to yours for another kiss. “Good,” you said in between pressing kisses to Jake’s mouth. “Then I don’t have to worry about distracting you too much.”

You giggled when Jake attacked your mouth, and the two of you sank into each other again. It wasn’t long before you were tugging each other’s clothes off and exploring each other more fully. 

For the rest of the night, you enjoyed your time with Jake, getting to know him on an even deeper, more intimate level—and learning he was just as good at cuddling as you imagined.

It was the first of many Valentine’s Days with Jake Jensen, your bodyguard and boyfriend, and each one was more special than the last because your crush had grown into real feelings, which he returned. He was no longer off-limits. He was yours and you were his.

sweethearts game masterlist

[deansbeer]

lil jensen drabble <3

eighteen plus. minors do NOT interact.

WARNING(S). smut | fem!reader | penetration | dominance | control dynamics | praise kink | pet names ( sweetheart, darlin', babydoll ) | sub!jensen | dom!reader | cowgirl position.

KARI NOTES. i visualized this set around the time while he was filming for BIG SKY — don't know why, but it might have something to do with the cowboy references.

you're perched on top of him, his favorite stetson resting on your head, a little too big but somehow perfect on you. the brim tilts slightly as you move, slow and lazy, rolling your hips over him like you've got all the time in the world. he's a wreck beneath you, hands gripping your hips like they're the only thing tethering him to sanity, but he doesn't dare take control. not when you've got that look in your eyes, not when you're holding the reins.

"sweetheart," he groans, voice thick and needy, "darlin', c'mon—let me—please, babydoll." every word is drenched in desperation, his drawl getting rougher with every syllable, but you just smirk down at him.

"easy, cowboy," you tease, your voice sweet but firm, fingers trailing down his chest. "you're not in charge right now."

and god, the way you say it—low and sultry, like you know exactly what it does to him—makes him whine. actually whine. you roll your hips again, slow and deliberate, watching the way his jaw tightens, the way his green eyes darken as they drink you in. he looks at you like you're a dream, all flushed and hazy and perfect, and you can feel the way his muscles tense beneath you, wanting so badly to thrust up into you.

but he doesn't. because you're in control, and he'd do just about anything to see that wicked little grin light up your face again.

"you look so goddamn beautiful," he murmurs, voice wrecked, the words tumbling out of him like a prayer. "my girl. my perfect girl."

you bite back a moan at the praise, fingers tightening on the hat as you lean over him, your lips brushing his ear. "that's right, baby," you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. "your girl. and you're my good boy, aren't you, jay?"

he nods frantically, his hands trembling as they grip your hips tighter. "always, sweetheart. always yours."

and he is—completely, utterly yours. every broken sound he makes, every breathless plea, every filthy word spilling from his lips is all for you.

[honeyryewhiskey]

. . . director!jensen x starlet!reader

synopsis ୨ৎ jensen’s magnum opus is finally coming to life after years of meticulous crafting—his first directorial film, the one that will define his legacy. he’s sifted through countless headshots, sat through audition after audition, searching for the perfect lead. then you walk in—soft, a little shy, but with a quiet sweetness that lingers, something he can’t shake. and just like that, he knows. he’s found his girl.

warnings ୨ৎ 18+ mdni, age gap relationship, the artist and his muse, powerful older man and the rising star, obsession disguised as guidance, you belong to me energy, indulgence, claiming through praise

chronological parts ! audition files off the record

Jensen takes you under his wing, molding you into the perfect starlet.

He’s obsessed with every little thing about you. Your expressions. Your voice. The way you move on camera. You’re his muse, and he doesn’t hide it.

During late-night script readings in his private studio, he sits too close, his voice smooth as he murmurs directions. His fingers trail over your wrist when he adjusts the way you hold a prop. His hands linger on your waist when he blocks a scene with you.

"That’s my girl," he praises, voice warm, approving. "You’re perfect, sweetheart. Just like that."

No one knows just how far Jensen’s gone in his obsession.

No one knows how his hands skim over your bare back during a costume fitting, how his breath tickles your ear as he murmurs between kisses, "you’re gonna look so perfect for me on that screen."

No one knows about the way he pulls you into a dark corner after a long day of filming, his praises beginning with words and ending with his head between your thighs, making sure his little muse knows just how proud he is. "You did so good for me today."

No one knows about the late nights in his private trailer, the door locked, your script abandoned somewhere on the floor with your clothes and his. Jensen’s hands hold your hips like he owns them, like he was made to be between them, fucking you into the sheets until you’re whimpering. His mouth claims the expanse of your chest, “you’re doing so well for me, pretty baby,” he praises, “you’re always so good for me.” 

He’s protective, possessive. He knows how quickly Hollywood can dim the light of something so new and vibrant. He’s determined to keep you safe from all of that. And to show the world your essence through his carefully crafted lens. 

"They don’t get to see you the way I do, doll. Only I get that."

But people are starting to talk.

The way he looks at you during press interviews, the way his hand always finds the small of your back, the way you practically glow under his praise.

They suspect.

But no one really knows.

And as long as Jensen has a say in it? They never will.

sneak peek into the story. . .

Jensen watches you from behind the camera, eyes locked on the monitor, completely still. The hum of the set—the murmur of producers, the shuffle of the crew, the faint scratch of a pen against a clipboard—fades to static in the background. None of it matters.

Only you.

Your face fills the frame, bathed in soft lighting, every flicker of emotion playing across your features like a symphony only he can hear. He watches the way your brows furrow, how your lips part just slightly on the inhale before delivering your lines. The intensity in your eyes—for him—steals his breath.

It’s his vision, the one he’s obsessed over for years, coming to life before him. Through you.

"Cut." His voice is calm, controlled, but there’s a heat beneath it, just enough to make you shiver. The smallest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

You turn to him immediately, searching for approval. He doesn’t hesitate. He pushes up from his chair, stepping between you and your co-star with quiet confidence, his presence commanding without a single word. Around you, the set moves like clockwork—makeup dabs at your cheeks, the props team resets the scene—but you don’t notice any of it.

All you see is him.

The crinkle by his eyes. The weight of his gaze, steady and unreadable. How he looms just a little closer than necessary.

"That was perfect, Peach." His voice is low, intimate, meant for you alone.

His hand lifts, fingertips grazing the collar of your dress, adjusting it with deliberate slowness. You stand frozen, pulse quickening at the soft drag of his fingers against your throat.

"I can do a few more takes if you need me to," you offer, voice steady except for the slight quiver at the end. "Maybe try it with a different emotion?"

He chuckles, a sound that rolls through you like smoke, and nods.

"Sure, sweetheart, we can roll it again."

His fingers brush beneath your chin, tilting your face up, capturing your gaze in his. He holds it, long enough that your breath stutters in your chest.

"Always looking for a way to please me, aren’t you?"

Your stomach flips at the teasing edge in his tone. You barely hear yourself whisper, "Of course, sir. I want it to be perfect."

Something flickers behind his eyes. Approval. Possession. The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s holding something back.

He lets the moment stretch until you feel lightheaded, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll squirm under the weight of his stare. You swallow hard, pressing your feet into the floor to steady yourself.

"Good girl." It’s quiet enough for only you to hear.

Then he steps away, claps his hands once, snapping the rest of the room back into focus.

"Again, from the top."

It’s well past dark, but here you are, in Jensen’s trailer, reading lines despite the hour. He promised from the beginning that he’d help no matter the time, that he’d always answer your call.

“Again.” His voice is soft—patient, yet firm. That tone leaves no room for argument, a steady command that seems to seep into your bones. He stands before you, arms crossed, his posture strong but relaxed. His brow furrows, the familiar, focused crease settling deep into his face.

You let out a slow breath, shifting slightly on the couch. The script is loose in your hands, but it feels heavy—heavy with expectation, heavy with the weight of his gaze on you. You’ve read this line a dozen times already, trying to make it right, trying to please him. But it's still not right. Not for him.

Jensen doesn’t speak, but you feel his eyes on you, sharp, intense. His gaze cuts through the silence like a knife, and just when the pressure starts to suffocate you, he moves.

His fingers skim over your wrist, soft, deliberate, like he’s taking control without even trying. The script slips from your hands, landing beside you with a soft thud.

“Not like that, baby. Here—”

His voice is low, barely above a whisper. He crouches in front of you, leaning in so close that his breath brushes the side of your face, sending a shiver down your spine. The heat of his body presses against you, his presence filling the space between you both. You instinctively shift, thighs pressing together.

He doesn’t look at you like he’s just guiding you; it feels deeper than that. His hand hovers above yours for a moment before settling there, his fingers curling around yours with a deliberate slowness. There’s strength in his touch, but also a quiet command—he’s guiding, but he’s controlling. Every inch of his touch molds you, like he’s shaping you to fit his vision.

“You know the lines,” he murmurs, voice rough with something you can’t place. “Just give it to me straight. I don’t want you to just read the words, I wanna feel it come from here.” His fingers reach up, pressing into the center of your chest. 

You nod, but the nerves that always seem to creep up around him are impossible to mask. The script’s words are in your head, but your throat feels tight, your heart pounding.

He sees it. He always does.

“Relax,” he whispers, his tone gentler now with the ghost of a laugh, coaxing you in a way only he can. The edges of his eyes soften as he picks up on the hesitation. It’s just you, and him, and the work he’s watching flow from your being into reality.

“You can do it,” he assures, his voice a soothing balm against your racing pulse. “I know you can.”

j's note ୨ৎ this is my first jensen fic i want to hide under the covers rn bc this is so horny but i've been bit by the old man jensen bug—kudos to @figthoughts bc i probably would not have been daydreaming about him in this way without u <3

tags ୨ৎ @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @daylighted @jollyhunter @soldiersgirl @bejeweledinterludes @bluemerakis @cowboysandcigarettes @littlesoulshine @couturewinx @ultravi0lence14 @snowluvvie @flow33didontsmoke comment to be added / removed !

[magnificent-winged-beast]

JIBCON 15

Look at Jackles happy face.

[writing-for-marvel]

My Personal Player 2

Virgin!Gamer!Jake Jensen x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re ready to take the next step in your relationship, but Jake has a secret to disclose first.

Warnings: strictly 18+, dry humping, Jake revealing he’s a virgin and insecurity around not having experience with physical intimacy

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: had this little thought bubble and ran with it. I just love the idea of an inexperienced JJ 🥺 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

“Jakey?” You coo, wishing to grab your boyfriend's attention. However, he’s far too engrossed in his gaming to hear you. Typical.

Seeing the way the muscles of his back tense, hearing the little grunts and growls slipping past his lips as he concentrates on conquering the game, is enough to turn you on, desperate for him to take action and ease the throbbing between your legs.

You’ve been doing a lot of hanging out since you started dating JJ. Well, actually, that is all you have done. Every time you are alone, making out, hands slipping below clothes, he always finds a reason to stop. You’d never force him to do anything he didn’t want to do, but after dating for a month without any action, you can’t deny you are straight up horny.

Perhaps he’s just someone who likes it when his girl takes control - that’s what your mind is focused on as you saunter over to the couch.

Frustration tightens your chest when he barely notices your presence, looking intently past you at his game. But from this position, you can watch his nimble fingers skillfully use the controller and it makes you wonder just how good they could make you feel if they were inside you.

“Jakey.” You repeat, firmer this time, taking off his glasses and forcing your way into his lap, straddling him so he can’t help but switch his attention from the game to you. “I need you to fuck me so hard that I can’t walk tomorrow.” You lower your voice and whisper directly in his ear.

It’s actually very endearing, the blush that creeps up his cheeks and the little whimper which escapes his lips. It makes you want to sink to your knees, take him in your mouth and hear him absolutely lose it as you choke on his cock.

“The thing is, I don’t- I mean I haven’t ever, umm…” His face is almost as red as a tomato as he struggles to admit what you’d suspected for the past month. As he mumbles, you direct his face towards yours with an index finger underneath his chin. His vulnerable eyes meet yours before you place a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Jakey, are you a virgin?” He cringes at the word, closing his eyes because he simply cannot look at you when admitting something he is so ashamed of and has tried to conceal for so long.

“Well… I mean technically…”

“Baby, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He finally opens his eyes, surprise mixed with scepticism looking back at you.

“You’re not turned off by the fact I have no experience?” His voice is low, shaky and it breaks your heart in two that he really thought your feelings for him would be any different just because he’s taking his time being physically intimate with someone.

“Of course not, JJ. You know I’m actually quite possessive, it turns me on that I get to be your first, that I get to corrupt you, that you’re all mine.” You growl, in his ear, rolling your hips down onto his, earning you a whimper from his lips.

“I’m worried I won’t be good enough for you.” He whispers barely louder than the music coming from his gaming console. “That I’ll be bad at it and won’t be able to make you feel good.”

And that you’ll leave me because of it, are the words he leaves unsaid, hanging in the minimal space between you.

You place a soft kiss to his lips, feeling his bulge growing beneath you, his hands grip your hips, fingers tightly pressing into you as if to keep you anchored to him, stopping you from leaving as he admits his insecurities.

“Jakey, if you actually care about my pleasure, then you’re already doing better than pretty much every other guy I’ve been with.” He winces ever so slightly at the mention of you having slept with other people, as if he doesn’t want the reminder he’s the one completely out of his depth.

It’s sweet, how flushed he is, and the embarrassed glimmer in his beautiful eyes. Oh, you’re going to have so much fun teaching him all the sinful things you can do to pleasure each other.

“Do you want to touch me?”

He nods without saying a word. Eyes wide, taking in every small movement you make. You’ve never had a man look so captivated by you simply straddling them, fully clothed. You feel powerful, holding all his attention which had not too long ago been solely on his game.

You direct his hands beneath your shirt, slow enough that he can pull away if he so wishes, where he cups the swell of your breasts. His eyes are mesmerised by you as his hands explore your soft skin, whimpering as his thumbs push aside your bra and feel your hard nipples for the first time.

Jake’s breath catches in his throat when you move your hips. You can feel practically every detail of his hard, thick cock hidden by his sweatpants as you rock against him.

“You like that? Does it feel good, baby?”

“Mhmm.” He mewls with a squeeze of your hips, you instinctively quicken the pace of your grinding movements just to get him to make more sounds like that.

Resting your forehead against his allows you to not only hear every little whimper that falls from his lips with every rock of your hips, but also to see how much desire there is in his familiar blue eyes, how aroused he is by you.

You can feel how soaked your underwear is, how with each fluid motion of your hips your clit is stimulated as you drag your core against his hard length. A warm pressure slowly builds from the bottom of your belly, tightening like someone pulling a knot, but you’re trying to hold it together - this is about Jake’s pleasure, not your own.

He looks completely done for, eyes rolling back, his jaw slack, breathing shallow, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Someone so close to busting in their pants so quickly from a little grinding. Fuck, you can’t wait to have him naked and writhing for you.

“You’re so close, aren’t you JJ?” You hum in his ear and he bucks his hips as if to respond in the affirmative. “I want you to cum for me.”

And those simple words are the end of him, like you’ve finally provided him permission and he no longer has to hold back.

He cums with a cry of your name, fingers bruising your waist as he holds on for dear life. A wet patch on his grey sweatpants appears, spreading outwards as his thighs relax underneath you and a blissed out sigh falls from his lips.

“Fuck, that felt amazing.” He pants, out of breath, looking up at you with those innocent blue eyes as if you’re a goddess, the only woman in the world who could make him come undone.

Pride blooms in your chest knowing you’re the only woman who has not only seen Jake Jensen cum, but been the reason for his orgasm. You hope you’re the only person who will ever experience that pleasure.

“It’s gonna feel so much better when you’re inside me.”

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[that-sarcastic-writer]

Mind Games (2)

Direct cntinuation to Mind games (til we lose control) (takes place before lost time)

Ben/Soldier Boy X Supe!Fem!reader

Summary: Herogasm proves to be a disaster for everyone involved, but at least you and Ben still have each other at the end of the night. Takes places during the Herogasm episode but like I did my own shit

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it mfs), p in v, shower sex (pls don't try to recreate this, SB has super strength, your man does not, you might break sum), oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, dom!Soldier Boy, praising kink, Ben calls her mean things a lot (but she likes it), choking, hair pulling, spitting, Soldier Boy cause mf is a warning on his own, typical canonical violence for this show, no use of y/n, Violet isn't her real name, just a nickname.

WC: 6.9k I'm so sorry

A/N: WHAT DID I TELL YALL MFSSS. Took me 2 years to revisit it but yk what it's fine cause every year is Soldier Boy's year. So yeah here we are. I will warn yall im not too good at writing action/fight scenes, like it made sense in my head but idk if that image translated well into the scene. I only know how to write smut im sorry. But to my Ben/Jensen girlie's, this is for you. I'll see yall in hell <3

Gif is not mine I found it on Pinterest

Universe masterlist | I no longer have a tag list so if you'd like to keep up with updates follow @midnightreadinglibrary

Fucking Herogasm. Christ, you didn't remember the last time you were here. Funny, the last time you went to a Herogasm party it was coincidentally with Ben. And it was in fact the last one you ever went to. It never felt right to go back without him. 

"Fuckin' Herogasm," Butcher laughed and shook his head, glancing back at you with intrigue, "You ever been Violet?" 

Your lips curled up a bit and you licked your lips slowly, glancing at Ben for a second before you found two pairs of curious eyes on you. 

"Yeah, every year for like ten years." You responded, and you were met with a look of disbelief from Hughie, and even Butcher had a slight glint of surprise in his eyes. Perhaps they didn't take you as the orgy, drugs and depravity type of supe, not that you blame them, that never truly was your idea of fun. But you weren’t entirely innocent either. "I'm serious. You can ask Ben if you don't believe me." 

Both men gave Ben a long glance and he laughed, shrugging at you. 

"She ain’t lying, I took her to her first one, in 74' was it? Should've seen her, such a pretty doe-eyed lil’ thing, with a face like hers she fooled everyone." 

"Oh, yeah, you showed innocent little me all the ropes. It was very educational." You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the small grin on your face, and Ben had one of his own. 

For a moment you forgot neither of the other two men quite understood whatever was going between you and Ben, so you missed the uncomfortable look on their faces. 

"Oh, I showed you a hell of a lot more than just the ropes, sweetheart." 

"And I'll show you both the barrel of a gun if I have to endure another second of your trip down erotic memory lane. Can we focus here?" Butcher groaned, looking both annoyed and disturbed by your relationship, like a parent who was tired of keeping his two horny teenagers in line. 

You exchanged a look with Ben, eyes big and lips pursed as you tried not to laugh and you gave him a look of having just been scolded. He simply rolled his eyes and half paid attention to Hughie and Butcher as they went back and forth about who was going in first. 

You, as always, just stood there and observed, absentmindedly twirling your knife between your fingers as you listened to them agree that Hughie should go in first so you could be in and out as quickly as possible. In between your own priorities, Ben being the main one, you had almost forgotten why you were here in the first place. Despite the fact that you were picking off Payback's members one by one, you quickly realized this wasn't for you, or Ben and his plot for revenge. No, it was about Butcher getting his. And the two of you were simply there to make it happen. 

You had begun to wonder if this was all there was to it, a means to an end, and in reality neither you or Ben had much of a chance to make it out this revenge mission alive. But if there was something you knew for sure, it was that you would die before you let anything happen to Ben again. Deep down, you hoped he would do the same for you. 

"I'm gonna go check the area before we go in, make sure there aren't any surprises." Butcher announced after a minute or two of waiting, Hughie not being back yet. He started walking, but not before turning to glance at you both with narrowed eyes, "And you two behave, last time I left you cunts alone you broke a bathroom." 

You did a mocking salute to him and snorted when he rolled his eyes at you, grumbling something you didn't quite hear as he began to walk away. He was out of your sight pretty quickly and you could already feel Ben's intense gaze burn on your face. You ignored it at first, but when he stood in front of you, eyes never leaving you, you had no choice but to look at him. You stopped your fidgeting and you looked up at him expectantly as you leaned back against a tree.

"I don't need to read your mind to know you want to tell me something, what's up?" 

"What you said back at the motel, did you mean it?" He questioned, leaning close to your face as he placed a hand beside your head. You stared at him for a second, trying to dig in your mind for whatever it was that he meant. You found his green eyes and you realized. 

Ah. The three fucking words. 

"Seriously Ben?" You groaned, your head falling to the side with annoyance, but more of all you wanted to avoid his gaze, avoid the shame of having confessed your deepest feelings, knowing feelings wasn't something either of you ever talked about let alone ever admitted to. Because feelings meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant weakness. And weakness wasn't something either of you would ever admit to.

He grabbed your chin, grip tight as he forced you to look at him, "Did you? ‘Cause I meant what I said, all of it." 

Your face softened and your lips slightly curved into a tiny smile. You never wanted to search his mind without his permission, it was like a line you never liked to cross, but you didn't need to this time. Just by looking into his eyes you always knew. You could tell a lot by looking into someone’s eyes. You searched his eyes for any kind of deceit or even manipulation, but you didn't find any. You knew what he meant, and coming from him, it meant everything. 

"Yeah," You sighed softly, "I meant what I said." 

"Good." His pink lips curved into a satisfied smirk as he squeezed your face and leaned down, capturing your lips into his own. It was slower, no rushed and desperate touches like before, but he still kissed you hard. There was nothing gentle about it, but was there ever anything gentle about him? 

His tongue slipped into your mouth as he dropped his hand, resting it on the column of your neck. He pressed his armored chest against yours, pretty much pinning you against the tree. His mouth was so skilled, like he knew exactly how to take your breath away in seconds, he knew you that well. You would never allow a man to have this much control over you. But it was always different with him. Your hands found his long strands as you explored his mouth, and you pulled hard. You felt him groan against your mouth and he squeezed your neck in response. You gasped, the sound quickly fading into a soft moan. He pulled back and watched with amusement the look of pure ecstasy on your face as he squeezed your throat. 

"You fucking slut, you still get off to me hurting you, don't you?" He bit his lip as he released your throat, thumb brushing over the skin he knew would bruise, just like everybody else's, even if it was for a little bit. 

You inhaled deeply, the short lack of airflow making you dizzy, but in the most delicious way possible. You opened your eyes, finding his green ones and god you wished nothing but to just ditch the mission and go somewhere where he could take you, over and over again. 

"Are we here to get revenge or are we here to get your dick wet? ‘Cause I'm getting some real mixed signals here." You mumbled, breath heavy and he chuckled. He leaned down, pressing his lips to your jaw before he moved them to your ear. 

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard I'm gonna break a hell of a lot more than just a mirror." He coaxed. The way he spoke in your ear made you rub your thighs together and the pool forming in your panties was impossible to ignore. It was embarrassing how quickly he could pull you apart and do with you what he pleased. "When we get back. Now pull yourself together, we're on a mission." 

And just like that he was standing a few feet away from you. He was looking behind his shoulder, almost as if he could hear someone. And of course, just in time for you to somewhat regain your composure, Butcher came back. Though it wasn't before you locked eyes with Ben one more time as you tried to control your breathing, and the cocky bastard winked at you, lips curled into a shit eating grin before Butcher actually approached you both. 

This motherfucker. 

"All clear. The twins are in there. You shouldn't have a problem going in," He said to Ben, but then looked at you, "You, though, you might get some attention. Pretty girl, dressed in black leather and strapped with knives, that's some BDSM shit if I've seen one." 

"Okay and?" You frowned, now standing by both men.

"Just stay close to him, people might recognize you and approach you. Do what you can to keep a low profile. You might have to get your hands a bit dirty." He looked between you and Ben. You stared at him with a small frown at first, but when he raised his eyebrows at you, you quickly realized what he meant. 

"Wouldn't be the first time." Ben commented with a chuckle when he caught on. You looked at him, slightly unimpressed by his lack of discretion but you simply rolled your eyes. 

Butcher sighed heavily, clearly done with your antics by then and he simply motioned you off with an unimpressed expression, "Off you go, ya dirty cunts." 

"Looks like you might get your dick wet after all." You commented to Ben as you both headed off to the house. 

He chuckled, shooting you a glance as you stood in front of the door. You were both eager to get this over with, you more than him. It was one thing for him to be able to face the assholes that betrayed him, and you were happy to do it with him. But the idea of being around dozens of supes, in an environment where there were no rules, no respect and no boundaries, made you uneasy. You didn't know if you could handle that many voices all at once. It had been a long time since you had been around other Supes, let alone that many, and you had made that decision for a reason. 

Almost as if he could feel the anxiety radiate from you, you felt a large hand fill your own. Confused, you looked down and saw he had intertwined his fingers with your own. "There's nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart, it wouldn't be the first time we do this." 

"I haven't been around other supes since…" You inhaled deeply, your throat slightly closing up at the memory. The last time you stepped foot at Vought Tower, when you realized you couldn't do it anymore. Ben looked at you, eyebrows slightly knitted into a frown, "It's been a long time is all." 

"Just stay by my side, nobody will lay a hand on you. I'll always protect you, remember?" He gave your hand a slight squeeze and the calm yet assertive ring in his voice made you feel almost at ease. Almost. 

You stayed silent, needing all your energy and focus to keep the dozens of voices beginning to infiltrate your mind one by one. The sound of Ben speaking as a very naked man opened the door sounded far, distant, you didn't catch much of what they said. You only knew to move when you felt Ben tug you along. Now the sound of your racing heart was almost as loud as the voices. So fucking many people here. So many Supes. So many voices. All at once. It was deafening. It disgusted you, to have to hear every passing thought these depraved beings had. You didn’t realize you started digging your blunt nails into Ben’s gloves.

It didn’t hurt, but your enhanced strength definitely made him feel the tightening grip of your shaking hands. He stopped and looked at you with a twisted frown.

“The fuck is wrong with you now? You look like you saw your father.” 

You eyes snapped up to find him looking back at you with both confusion, and his version of concern. You opened your mouth but you could only stammer but no words actually came out. You couldn’t think. It was so loud. Your lip quivered ever so slightly as you felt your chest start to grow heavy. Ben saw the look on your face, the way your eyes were frantically looking around the room, your jaw wound up so tight he thought you’d break it. The last time he saw you like this was when you first joined Payback and didn’t have full control of your abilities. 

“Stop that, right now.” He gripped your shoulders hard, really fucking hard, enough to make you shift your focus on him for a moment. You looked at him with wide eyes. “Hey, I need you to focus. Get your head under control. I need you to have my back here, okay?”

“I… I don’t.. I can’t get them to stop. They won’t stop.” You said, so close to being on the verge of tears. “There’s so many, I can’t get them to shut the fuck up. I--” 

“Hey,” He shook you ever so slightly, leaning in close to your face. “The fuck did I just say? Get. yourself. Together. You used to tune ‘em out, remember? So tune them out.” 

You breathed in, your chest rising as you tried to drown out the noise, focus on his face, on his voice. But you couldn’t. You hadn’t been around this many people in nearly a decade.

“I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t be here. I’m sorry.” You shook your head frantically and tried to slip out of his grip but he didn’t let you. 

“I need you here. Just—hey,” he grabbed your jaw, looking out of the corner of his eyes to make sure you weren’t bringing in too much attention before he met your teary eyes. “Just look at me. I’m right here. Remember you used to tune everyone else out and only focus on my voice, hm? Focus on my thoughts, okay? It’s just you and me, fuck everyone else.” 

You stared at him, the green in his eyes seeming more and more green the longer you looked. You even saw a ring yellow in there. His voice. His thoughts, they had always calmed you, centered you. The voices grew more and more distant the longer you looked at him. You listened to his voice as his thoughts became your own. Until only the sound of his voice was in your head. Your breath was shaky as you closed your eyes, a laugh of relief leaving your lips.

He held your face for a little longer, his deep frown less harsh as he watched your face slowly visibly relax and the tension left your body.

“Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” You exhaled deeply and nodded at him, feeling like you were slowly regaining control of yourself. “Let’s go find the terror twins.” 

You walked around this house for what felt like hours. But it didn’t help that you were being stopped every five minutes by every naked Supe you walked by. Ben was anything but amused.

“I swear to fucking Christ if one more of these slimy jizz-covered fuck faces asks you to use your knives on them I will actually shove my shield up their ass.” Ben grumbled with a look of disgust on his face.

“They’d probably like that.” You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing at the death glare he shot you.

“Eat shit.” You actually snorted this time, and you were full on giggling when he started mumbling curses at you as he walked off. 

You ultimately decided splitting up was probably the way to go, the house was way too big and had too many rooms, you’d find the twins quicker if you each went your own way. Ben was reluctant at first, a bit apprehensive to leave you on your own after you almost broke down earlier. But you reassured him you were fine and perfectly capable of going on your own. You ultimately realized you made the right choice. You didn’t know exactly when or how but out of nowhere you heard a loud blast in the next room and you were launched right through a wall from the blast. Pain immediately started shooting through your body at the impact. You were a Supe, sure, but you weren’t Soldier Boy, you weren’t fucking invincible. You bled and you felt pain like any human. 

It took you a good minute to understand what the actual fuck had just happened. And when you did, you almost forgot about the throbbing pain going through your body. You pushed yourself up to your feet, stumbling and holding on to walls as you dragged yourself through the rubble and burned bodies. Your jaw slightly fell open at the sight of this much mayhem. You didn’t believe in God, but fuck were you praying to a higher power for Ben to be okay. 

You managed to stay on your feet despite the pain. It would go away eventually, in a day or so, but the first few hours were brutal. Still you pushed through, determined to find Ben. You stumbled into a hallway, the walls were falling apart and chunks of cement were all around the floor. But what caught your attention was the sight that fucking American flag and blonde head of hair you had grown to despise. Your heart stopped, you were frozen. You held your breath as you realized fucking Homelander was here. And he currently had Ben pinned to a wall.

This was such a bad fucking idea. You could die a very agonizing death. A bad idea indeed. 

Adrenaline kicked in, you sprinted and with a bit of momentum you landed on Homelander’s shoulders. You were surprised he didn’t hear you coming.You were thankful he was preoccupied with Ben. Your nails dug into the side of his temples and you used all of the energy and power you had coursing through your veins, and sent that straight to his brain.

You weren’t sure if it would even tickle. You tried using your shock powers on Ben once, a long time ago, just to test out how it worked on Supes with enhanced strength, he said it felt like being electrocuted. And right about now you were praying Homelander felt something, enough to stun him at least. You could kill an average Supe if you used enough power, but you weren’t so sure if you were strong enough.

You held on, but you were struggling, commanding your body to release this much energy was mentally exhausting but the sound of Homelander groaning in pain made you smile the slightest bit. The shocks of electricity weren’t going to kill him, but it sure did hurt, and it stunned him. Nobody’s brain was invisible afterall. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it motherfucker? Your body may be indestructible but your mind can only take so much before it breaks.” You spat. Sparks were coming from your fingers as your eyes flashed bright purple. “It’s fucked when its you being held down against your will, huh?”

He screamed, stumbling around as he attempted to grab at you, but this wasn’t the first time you tried to fry someone’s brain off while on their shoulders. You gasped when you saw his laser eyes go off as he screamed, leaving indents on the wall. This split second of distraction was enough to make your focus falter, and it gave Homelander the opportunity to find a grip on you. You cried in pain when he grabbed your ankle and tossed you off. 

You landed fucking hard, it knocked the air right out of your lungs. You coughed as you attempted to get up, but Homelander was grabbing you and pulling you up by your neck before you could blink. He held you up in the air as he levitated so you couldn’t find a way to escape. He held you at arm’s length so you couldn’t reach him, either. The way his empty, ice cold eyes stared you down with evil glee as you gasped for air was terrifying. 

“I always knew you were a fucking bitch. I should’ve killed you when I had the chance. Matter of fact, I’ll do that right now.” Your eyes widened when his eyes gleamed bright red. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Ben behind Homelander, with a grin as he grabbed Homelander’s cape and pulled down, and he pulled really fucking hard. Your body collided with the ground roughly, landing on your side with a pained cry. But you still saw Ben throw Homelander around by his cape, and had you not been mere seconds away from death, you would have laughed at the comedic irony. You were in and out of consciousness, an aura surrounding your vision. But in between your delirium you could see Butcher and Hughie had arrived, and the three of them were taking on Homelander. It wasn’t long before the three of them had Homelander pinned down. You could feel yourself fade, your muscles give out and your mind shut off. You hadn’t used that much power since you were in Payback. 

You heard indistinct voices and shouting before everything went black. 

“The fuck are you waitin’ for? Blast this cunt!” Butcher shouted and Ben grunted.

“I can’t! Just—Fuck.” His eyes found you in the corner, bloodied and passed out. You couldn’t run away and you wouldn’t survive the blast, he knew that. “You—kid, take her, and get out here. Now!”

“No fucking way!” Hughie shouted back, and Ben felt the urge to blast him instead. 

“Do what he says, take the fuckin’ girl and go!” Butcher shouted at Hughie, catching on to what Ben was trying to do. But before any of them could do anything, Homelander blasted his lasers, screaming as he overpowered the three of them while they were distracted. And just like that he was gone. 

The three men sat in silence, in defeat. They had a chance and they blew it. Ben knew it was mostly his fault, he shouldn’t have hesitated. But he refused to ever let you get hurt. In silent anger he glared at both of them and he stood and walked over to your passed out body. He clenched his jaw as he picked your limp body and carried you. He made eye contact with Butcher and Hughie and it took all of his power not to shoot both of them in the face. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your whole body ached, and your head was founding. It was unbearable. You winced in pain as you began to peel layers of clothes off your body. God it fucking hurt. You closed your eyes as you attempted to hold back tears, only snapping back into reality when you felt Ben trace his fingers over your back. He noted every bruise and every cut. He knew they would heal, sure but it still made him seethe with anger. 

“What the fuck were you thinkin’, taking on Homelander like that? Did all the fucking pills you take for your psychosis fry all of your neurons or what?” He was so angry, and he never was exactly kind with his words. You always knew that, but it still hurt when he talked to you that way, especially when you had only been trying to help him. 

Your back was turned to him, so he couldn't see the hurt frown on your face but he did notice you huff at him and move away from his touch, refusing to look at him. 

“Okay.. Hey, no. I didn’t.. I didn’t mean it like that. Fuck.” He bit his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut with regret of his choice of words. You kept your back to him as you continued to undress. He groaned. “You would have died. And it would have been on me. I couldn’t live with that, is all.” 

“Well, I was passed out so it would have been a quick death, if that's of any consolation to you.” You answered shortly as you stripped down to your underwear. You don't think he understood that you stopped caring whether you lived or died a long time ago. 

“Okay, could you not be a bitch for two seconds?” He sighed, already annoyed by your attitude. 

“No. If you want a girl who doesn't talk back to you, go find Countess. Oh, wait, you can't ‘cause she sold you to the Russians. Guess you're stuck with me.” You answered with even more spitefulness, just to tick him off a little bit more. You didn't need to read his mind to know he was beyond pissed. You weren't exactly in a colorful mood, either. Your back was still turned to him as you tossed your bloodied gear in a corner. 

He breathed in deeply, pitching the bridge of his nose, “Violet, look at me when I'm talking to you.” 

You turned around with exasperation, your eyes open wide with a ‘what’ expression as you motioned your hands around passive-aggressively. 

“I didn't mean what I said. I know you were trying to help me… And I know that you can't always control your powers. I sometimes can't deal with my own head, I can't imagine having to deal with everybody else's.” Ben wasn't one to apologize. He was actually allergic to the words I'm sorry. You knew that. But you knew he at least tried to apologize using other words. So you listened. You knew he was having a hard time, too. “But I'm not really one to talk. I think I'm the one that's fucked in the head.” 

Your lips slightly parted at his words and you looked at him with a tiny bit of sadness. You never asked him details of what happened to him. Sure, you could look, but you never wanted to dig through his mind without his permission. He'd tell you if he really wanted to. But you didn't need to know everything to understand that what he went through messed him up. And it messed him up a lot. What happened at Herogasm was proof of that. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened at Herogasm? Don't make me look through your head, I don't want to.” You sighed softly, ultimately giving in, like you always did. Your delicate fingers dragged over his vest as you absentmindedly began to take off his gear. 

Ben stayed silent for a long time. He didn't think he even knew what happened. You were down to the last layer of the top part of his suit by the time he opened his mouth. 

“I blacked out. I don't.. I don't know what the fuck happened. I was talking to the fuck twins and then nothing. Next thing I remember is the burned bodies and the place was all fucked up.” He breathed out a little unevenly, a frown knitted deep on his face. He looked down at you when you stayed silent. “I didn't mean to. You believe that, right?” 

You did. But did he? 

“Of course I believe you.” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, hands flat on his chest. He brought one of his hands to the back of your hair, holding your head in place. After a few seconds, you hummed, parting your lips slightly. “Can I ask you a question?” 

He nodded. 

“Why didn't you kill Homelander? You had a shot. Why didn't you take it? You would have done the whole fucking world a favor.” 

Ben stared at you with confusion. Did you really not get it? Were you that clueless or was he just that bad at showing his devotion for you? Probably the latter. 

“You saw what my blast did to the house. You wouldn't have survived that. I should have, I know, Butcher won't stop fucking reminding me. But he has nothing left to lose. Can't kill two girlfriends in the same week, y'know?” 

Your mouth fell open with indignation and you shoved at his chest, but deep down you felt warm at the fact that he chose you over his mission, for once. You still pretended to be angry at him, though. “Fucking prick.” 

He brought his lips to your jaw, leaving blunt kisses and you pretend to hate it. But the smile on your face was inevitable. 

“Wanna shower now or what?” He eventually said. That was the reason you were in the bathroom after all. 

You nodded. You could use the hot water on your bruised skin. You finished stripping, Ben just watched you with a perverted grin and smacked your ass before he stripped himself. 

He got in first, turning on the water and letting it run until steam began to fill the small space. He knew you liked it boiling hot. He didn't mind. You got in and immediately went under the shower head. You moaned in relief, the hot water running down your tense muscles, alleviating the soreness on your body. Ben watched you with a surprising amount of patience as he stood behind you. He leaned down and pressed his soft lips behind your neck, licking along the skin before he moved down your neck to your shoulder. He rested his hands on your hips, squeezing the skin as lightly as he could. You had enough bruises for one day. 

“I'm gonna take care of you tonight, m’kay?” He mumbled against your skin before he made you turn around. 

He crashed his lips against yours, rough fingers gripping your jaw as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You whined, already craving more. When he kissed you like this, you just couldn't help yourself. 

“Need you, please.” You were breathless against his lips, your blunt nails digging into his chest desperately. He gave your bottom lip a small tug as he pulled away. 

He made you stand in front of him, his back to the shower wall as he slowly sank to his knees. Your eyes followed him longingly.

“C'mere.” He pulled you towards him, his eyes were full of greed as he made eye contact with you while he directed you to rest one of your feet on his shoulder. 

His eyes stayed locked with yours as leaned forward and licked a long stripe from your hole up to your clit. He wrapped his lips around the bud and sucked. You gasped, instantly pressing your hand against the damp wall to keep yourself up. Your mouth fell open in delight as he dragged his tongue around your sensitive clit. 

“O-Oh. Shit. Shit, Ben.” You whined softly, your free hand falling to his wet hair. He held your hip with one hand, steady vice grip holding you in place as he pushed his tongue into your hole. You swore the cry you let out was heard in the entire apartment. “Oh, my God. Fuck. That feels so good.” 

Ben hummed in approval as you wrapped your fingers around his hair and held his face against you. As if he would go anywhere. He happily kept his mouth on you, head moving up and down as he worked you with his tongue, his nose brushing your clit with every movement of his head. To say that you were so close was an understatement. You could feel your leg start to give out under you the longer you felt that heat build in your stomach. Ben was more than happy to assist you with that, too. His free hand grabbed the underside of your thigh and forced you further against his mouth until your leg was dangling over his shoulder. His other hand stayed on your hip, vice grip holding you upright effortlessly. 

His tongue found your clit one more time, and the emptiness it left was replaced by two long fingers pushing into your cunt. Your eyes rolled back as your mouth fell open in a silent cry. You leaned your forehead against the tile as you dug your nails into his scalp. Fuck, you didn't remember the last time a man ate you out, let alone ate you out like this. It felt so good you wanted to cry, you didn't even remember the pain in your body, all you could feel was pleasure. 

“Feels good, doesn't it sweetheart?” He spat into your clit as he fucked you with his fingers. If the shower hadn't been running the lewd sound of his fingers dragging in and out of your wet hole would've been so loud. But he could still hear it, and fuck did he love it. He took a second to look up at you. Such a pretty little thing when you were so close. “Oh, you wanna come don't you? Mhmm, yeah, you do. C'mon, gimme what I want. I know you can do it.” 

His tongue was back on your clit, he licked harsh stripes as he slipped his thick fingers in and out of your cunt with urgency. The sounds of him licking and sucking on your clit were almost as filthy as the sounds coming out of your mouth. His fingers fucked you without mercy, there was not a single thing gentle about his touch. It was rough and relentless. Just like he was. And it had you seeing fucking white before you even realized. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, lips parting in a silent cry as you held his face against you. But it wasn't like he'd go anywhere, if anything he kept his tongue on your swollen clit and his fingers never stopped. Tears formed in your eyes as your thighs shuddered. And when he didn't stop you were pulling at the ends of his hair to pull him off you. He groaned at this. Quite unhappy to be leaving the warm place between your thighs. 

“I wasn't done.” He looked up at you with a frown. You took in a deep breath, blowing out a small laugh as you grabbed at his face, weakly attempting to pull him back up.

“You can be down there all you want later, I just..” You swallowed hard, somewhat regaining your composure as he stood up to his full height. You pulled him down by his face and kissed him, and you kissed him fucking hard. And the taste of yourself still left on his tongue made you need him even more. “Just need you, okay?” 

“Need me where?” He grabbed your jaw, fingers sprawled out over your throat as he held your face back. He stared you down, malicious eyes full of greed as he waited for your answer. And he wouldn't give you anything until you did.

“Inside me.” You muttered through gritted teeth, almost delirious as you rubbed your thighs together with anticipation. He didn't look satisfied. You breathed in deeply, the aching need between your legs unbearable. “Need your cock, inside me, right now, Ben.” 

He lifted his eyebrows up in satisfaction and gave you a simple hum before he switched positions with you, without a word pressing your front against the shower wall. 

“I fuck you once and you're already acting like a pathetic whore? Okay. But you better fucking take my cock like the good fuck doll you've always been, hm?” He kicked your legs apart with his knee, his back pressing you further into the wall as he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance. You took a deep breath. “Yeah, you're gonna take this cock like a good lil’ fuck doll.” 

You gasped when he pushed himself inside with a snap of his hips, but it quickly turned into a moan when he pushed himself to the hilt, hips rutting against your ass. You dug your nails into nothing as you closed your eyes, taking in the delicious feeling of his thick cock stretching your walls.

“What a tight fucking cunt.” He grunted, gripping your hips, not wasting any time. He barely gave you time to adjust. “So fucking wet. Just for me, huh?” 

You were nodding against the wall instantly, pushing your ass back against him as he fucked you without mercy. You felt his lips on your shoulder as he leaned over you. The lewd sound of slapping skin was drowned out by the shower running but you could hear it clear as fucking day. 

“Yes! Mhmm feels so good.” You moaned softly, mindlessly reaching behind you to touch him, any part of him. Your fingers found his beard as you ran your hand over his face desperate to feel him, then you found his hair, and you latched on for dear life as he drilled into you. 

“Yeah? Like how my cock feels in your guts? You missed it, didn't you?” He pressed the side of his face into your head, allowing himself to close his eyes and soak the feeling of your nails on his scalp, he could even feel the faintest bit of electricity shooting through your fingers. He fucking loved it. 

“Yes! God yes.” You couldn't even describe how much. 

Ben smirked at this as he wrapped his arm over your chest and his fingers found your throat. He forced your head back, making you look at him. 

“Open your mouth,” He ordered, he held his finger to your pulse as he felt the fast rate of your heartbeat. You did as he said, and with a huff he spat in your mouth. “Slut. Swallow it.” 

How he could so easily break you down to nothing and treat you like no other man could, truly was beyond your understanding. But your mind didn't have to understand it. Your body just did it. You felt a pool of wetness seep through you at the damn near animalistic groan that rumbled in his throat. 

“You're such a good fucking girl.” He spat, pressing his lips against yours in a messy filthy kiss. You could barely keep your mouth open, not with the way he was so determined to make you fall apart for him. “You're my good fucking girl.” 

“I want to come. Please I—fuck.”  Your words were broken as your whole body burned up, and it wasn't from the hot water. 

“Of course, you do. It just feels so good, doesn't it?” He squeezed your throat harder, only choked out sounds could leave your mouth as he slipped his other hand to your swollen clit and rubbed harsh circles. 

Your orgasm hit you so hard you didn't realize it until you were shaking violently, your eyes rolled back into your head as you fucked yourself on his cock. Not that he ever stopped. He moaned loudly at the feeling of your wetness seeping on him. The wet sound of his cock slapping against your cunt made him want to come, too. 

“Fuck. Fucking Christ Violet. C'mon, make me come. Fuck yourself on my cock just like that. Be a good fuck doll for me, that's it.” His hand left your throat to pull at your hair. He dug his fingers deep into your scalp as his face fell on your shoulder. With a deep grunt he held you down on him. “Fucking take it, that's it, girl. Just like that. Fuck.” 

You could feel your mixed releases slip down your thigh. You sighed deeply, allowing yourself to close your eyes in ecstasy as he pressed his lips to your jaw. You hummed softly, reaching behind you to run your fingers through your hair. 

“I never want to leave this cunt. Feels so fucking good.” He muttered against your skin. 

You laughed softly, eyes still closed, you breathed heavily, “You're gonna have to eventually.” 

“Like fuck I am.” 

Both of his hands were on your hips and he turned you around. You whimpered softly at the emptiness he left you, but it was quickly replaced by choked out gasp when he grabbed both of your thighs and effortlessly hoisted you up around his waist. Your back was pressed against the tile wall and he slipped his cock inside you without a warning.

“Ben—” 

“You wanted my cock inside you? Well you better fucking take all of it. Every fucking inch ‘til I say so. You want it, don't you?” He spat, already fucking into you like you were nothing more than a toy. He held you up by your thighs as he kept them wide open so he could take as much as he wanted. And that he did. “Of course you do, this cunt is all mine to with as I fucking want. That ain't never gonna change.” 

What a long fucking night you were going to have. But you'd take a million of this over another day without him in your life. And this? This was all you ever wanted. You didn't need anything else, just him.

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 38/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, ANGST

Word Count: 10996

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The silence that followed was deafening. Jensen froze, his body stiffening like a live wire had run through him. His hands, which had been cupping yours moments ago, fell away abruptly as he leaned back, staring at you in disbelief.

“Come again?”, he asked, his voice colder than you’d ever heard it. The warmth and vulnerability from just moments ago evaporated, replaced by something icy and sharp. “You think you’re what?”.

“Pregnant”, you said again, this time slightly louder, though your voice still wavered. You finally forced yourself to look up at him, but the expression on his face made your heart sink.

Jensen’s jaw clenched, and his hands gripped the edge of your chair tightly as he stared at you like he was trying to decipher a puzzle he didn’t want to solve. “You know I got a vasectomy years ago”, he said, his voice low and steady, but there was an undercurrent of something dangerous beneath it. “So how the fuck is that possible?”.

The implication hit you like a punch to the gut, and your chest tightened as tears welled in your eyes. “Jensen, I didn’t—”.

“You didn’t what?”, he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “Cheat on me? Because that’s the only fucking explanation, right? If fucking you’re pregnant, it sure as hell isn’t mine”.

Jensen’s ears drummed loudly, his heartbeat quickening as his chest heaved with anger. His neck flushed a deep red, the tension in his body building like a storm ready to break. He shot up from the couch, pacing a few steps before whirling around to face you, his voice rising.

“How the hell do you even have the fucking nerve?”, he shouted, his words sharp and cutting. “You made me the bad guy for days—left me hanging, thinking I was the one screwing fucking everything up, destroying this fucking relationship! And now you sit here, dropping this bomb on me? Admitting that you—”. His voice cracked as he threw his hands up, unable to finish the thought, his face a mask of betrayal. “Telling me you’re fucking pregnant?”.

Your mouth opened to protest, but no words came. The sheer intensity of his anger left you frozen, your heart pounding as his accusations cut deeper than anything you’d imagined.

“I’ve been killing myself trying to fucking fix this, to show you I’m here, that I fucking love you!”, he continued, his voice shaking with raw emotion. “And now this? The only way this happens is if you—if you cheated on me!”.

Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t cheat on you, Jensen. I swear I didn’t. I don’t even know how—”.

“Then explain it!”, he interrupted, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. “Explain to me how the hell you’re pregnant when it’s not fucking possible!". He stopped, his breath hitching, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he struggled to control himself.

You stood, your legs trembling as you faced him. “I don’t know!”, you cried, your voice breaking. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but I’m telling you the truth! I haven’t been with anyone else. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t!”.

Jensen let out a harsh laugh, his hand raking through his hair as he turned away from you, his shoulders tense. “Do you even fucking hear yourself?”, he muttered, his tone bitter. “You’re asking me to believe something impossible, something that doesn’t make any fucking sense”.

Jensen’s anger only seemed to grow, his voice getting louder as he threw his arms out in frustration. “The tables have fucking turned, haven’t they?”, he snapped, his tone dripping with irony. “I spent days begging you to believe me, to trust me. And now you’re the one standing there, asking me to take your word for something that doesn’t fucking add up!”.

His words hit like a slap, and your stomach churned with a mixture of hurt and frustration. “It’s not the same”, you said weakly, your voice trembling. “I didn’t cheat on you, Jensen. I wouldn’t. You have to know that”.

“Oh, do I?”, he fired back, his green eyes blazing with emotion as he took a step closer. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks an awful lot like you’re asking me to ignore the facts and just blindly believe you. How is that fair? How is that any different from what you did to me?”.

Tears streamed freely down your face now, your chest tightening as the reality of his doubt hit you harder than any of his words. “I know it sounds crazy”, you admitted, your voice breaking. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I’m not lying to you. I swear on everything, Jensen. I haven’t been with anyone else”.

Jensen let out a bitter laugh, pacing back and forth like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “And I’m supposed to just accept that?”, he said, his voice still sharp. “I’m supposed to believe this miracle baby somehow happened out of thin air, and you had nothing to do with it?”.

His words made your heart shatter further, and you felt your knees weaken as you dropped back onto the couch. “I’m begging you to believe me”, you whispered, your hands trembling in your lap. “Please, Jensen”.

“The fuck should I believe?”, Jensen roared, his voice so loud it made you flinch, your body recoiling slightly as his anger filled the room like a thunderstorm. His hands balled into fists at his sides, trembling with barely contained fury.

Without thinking, he kicked the coffee table, sending it crashing into the wall with a loud, splintering crack. The sudden violence left you frozen, your breath catching as tears streamed down your face. You had never seen him like this—so raw, so completely consumed by his emotions.

“I can’t get anyone fucking pregnant anymore!”, he shouted, his voice breaking with the weight of his anger and disbelief. “I had a goddamn vasectomy, for fuck’s sake! So you tell me how the hell I’m supposed to believe this bullshit!”.

You sat there, trembling, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to find your voice. But before you could speak, he continued, his tone turning cruel, sharp, and cutting in a way that felt almost deliberate.

“If you think I’m fucking stupid enough to believe you got pregnant with my kid—when I know damn well it’s not possible—you’ve lost your fucking mind”, he spat. “What’s next? You expect me to raise someone else’s bastard kid?”.

The word bastard hit you like a slap to the face, your hands trembling as you pressed them against your lap. His words were venomous, meant to lash out in his pain, but that didn’t make them sting any less.

“Jensen…”, you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but he wasn’t finished.

“I’ve been bending over backward for you”, he continued, his tone mocking now. “Moving across the country, buying a house, trying to fix everything, and now this? And you expect me to just… what? Take your word for it and play along?”.

Your body was shaking uncontrollably now, the sheer force of his anger leaving you feeling hollow and small. “I don’t know what else to say”, you whispered, tears choking your voice. “I’ve told you the truth, Jensen. I swear on everything, I haven’t cheated on you”.

But he didn’t respond, his chest heaving as he stood on the other side of the room, his hands raking through his hair as though trying to make sense of his own anger. The silence that followed was deafening, and the distance between you felt insurmountable.

You weren’t mad at Jensen—how could you be? You understood where he was coming from, his anger fueled by shock, confusion, and betrayal he thought was real. He had every reason to doubt you, especially after the way you’d handled the last week. You’d questioned him, accused him, made him feel like the bad guy. And now, here you were, asking for blind faith in return.

But that didn’t erase the fear now settling in your chest.

Jensen’s rage wasn’t directed at you personally, not really—it was aimed at the impossible situation, at the breaking point the two of you had reached. Still, seeing him like this, his face twisted in anger, his voice echoing through the room, made your stomach churn. You pressed a trembling hand to your abdomen, trying to steady yourself as nausea threatened to overwhelm you again.

You didn’t want to throw up—not now, not here. You weren’t even sure you could move from the couch without collapsing. The weight of everything—the stress, the hormones, the exhaustion—pressed down on you like an iron weight. Your body felt weak, your mind spinning as you tried to process his words, his accusations, his pain.

“Jensen”, you said softly, your voice trembling as you tried to cut through the silence. “I know… I know you’re mad. And I don’t blame you. I’d feel the same way if I were you”.

He turned to look at you, his chest still heaving, but his expression flickered with something else—confusion, maybe, or guilt at how raw he’d let his anger become. His green eyes bore into yours, the frustration still simmering just beneath the surface.

“I didn’t handle any of this right”, you admitted, tears slipping down your cheeks as you spoke. “I shouldn’t have doubted you. I should’ve talked to you instead of shutting you out. But Jensen, I swear to you, I haven’t been with anyone else. I don’t know how this happened, and I’m scared, too. I’m scared out of my mind”.

His jaw tightened, his hands flexing at his sides as he seemed to struggle with himself, his anger warring with something deeper. He took a step closer but stopped, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You’re scared?”, he repeated, his voice still tense. “What the hell do you think I am, standing here? You drop something like this on me, and you expect me to just…”. He trailed off, shaking his head.

You swallowed hard, willing the nausea to stay at bay as you looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.

Jensen caught your eyes, his chest still rising and falling with uneven breaths. His green eyes, usually so steady, glistened as he shook his head slowly, his lips pressing into a tight line. “Don’t look at me like that”, he breathed, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Don’t… don’t do that”.

Your stomach churned harder, not from the nausea this time, but from the realization of just how much pain he was in. He wasn’t just angry; he was unraveling, and you couldn’t tell if you were the one holding the thread or the one tangled in it with him.

Jensen looked away, his jaw clenching as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You have no idea what this feels like”, he muttered, his voice low and ragged. “To stand here, after everything I’ve been through, and feel like…”. He stopped, shaking his head again. “It feels like you’re doing everything she did to me, only fucking worse”.

The words hit you like a freight train, and your breath caught in your throat. “Jensen”, you said softly, your voice trembling. “That’s not what I’m doing. I swear to you, I’m not trying to hurt you”.

He let out a hollow laugh, one that carried no humor. “It sure feels like it… Do you know what it’s like to spend years being lied to? Manipulated? Made to feel like you’re never enough? That no matter how hard you try, you’re always the problem?”.

You shook your head, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. “I didn’t mean—”.

“That’s the thing”, he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t mean to. And yet here we are. You’re asking me to believe something that doesn’t make sense, and I want to. God, I want to believe you more than anything. But do you know how hard that is when every instinct I have is screaming at me to protect myself?”.

His words left you speechless, your hands trembling in your lap as you tried to find something—anything—to say that could bridge the gap between you. But everything felt inadequate, like a drop of water on a wildfire.

Jensen’s shoulders sagged, and his voice softened as he ran a hand through his hair again. “I’m not saying you’re her. I know you’re not. But right now, it feels the same. The doubts. The confusion. The fear. And it’s killing me because I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t know how to make sense of this”.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Neither of you spoke, the weight of the conversation pressing down like an unbearable force. Jensen eventually let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping as he walked away from where he had been standing. He sank into the armchair across the room, keeping a noticeable distance from you but still watching you carefully, his face a mixture of exhaustion and pain.

For minutes, the room was filled with nothing but the faint hum of the heater, each second stretching into what felt like hours. You stared at your hands in your lap, trembling slightly, while Jensen leaned forward in the chair, his elbows on his knees and his fingers interlaced, like he was trying to hold himself together.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice quiet and almost hesitant. “Did you… have you seen a doctor?”, he asked, his words measured. “To know for sure?”.

You looked up at him, your throat tightening at the question. His green eyes met yours, not angry now, but guarded, as though he was bracing himself for what you might say.

You nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I did”, you said, your fingers twisting together. “They ran some tests. I won’t have the official results until tomorrow, but… I took tests here, Jensen. At home. And they were all positive”.

Jensen leaned back slightly, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. His expression hardened, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. You watched, your stomach knotting as his fingers moved purposefully across the screen, searching for something. His energy had shifted—no longer explosive, but cold and precise, as though he’d locked himself in a protective shell.

“What are you doing?”, you asked shakily, your voice barely above a whisper. Fear gnawed at the edges of your mind, bracing yourself for the worst—for him to accuse you again, for him to tell you to leave, to call the police and let you kicked out of the house.

He held up a hand to quiet you, his green eyes not meeting yours as he dialed a number. His grip on the phone was tight, his knuckles white as he brought it to his ear.

“Yeah”, he said when someone answered, his voice tight and clipped. “This is Jensen Ackles. My date of birth is March 1, 1978. I need to confirm a procedure—a vasectomy I had done with you. It was…”. He paused for a moment, his hand running through his hair as he thought. “It was in 2016. Summer. I need a follow-up. Like, immediately”.

You stared at him, your heart pounding as you processed what was happening. He was calling the doctor who had performed his vasectomy. The realization sent a chill through you. This wasn’t a conversation about the two of you anymore—this was about facts, about evidence. He needed proof, one way or the other.

The voice on the other end of the call spoke for a moment, and Jensen’s grip on the phone tightened further. “Yeah, I understand that”, he snapped, his frustration barely contained. “But this is urgent. I need to know if there’s any chance—any chance at all—that something could’ve failed”.

He paced a few steps as he listened, the tension in his body visible in every movement. You could hear the muffled sound of the person on the other end of the line, but their words were indistinguishable. Jensen’s jaw clenched as he responded. “Fine. I’ll come in tomorrow morning. First thing. Just… make it happen”.

He ended the call with a sharp tap, his hand dropping to his side as he let out a long, heavy sigh.

The silence after Jensen hung up the phone was deafening, stretching between you like an insurmountable wall. His shoulders were tense, his breathing shallow, as if the weight of everything was pressing down on him all at once. He didn’t look at you, didn’t offer any words of reassurance or even anger. Instead, he simply muttered, his voice low and devoid of emotion, “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight”.

The words hit you harder than you’d expected, and before you could respond, he turned and walked toward the hallway. His footsteps were heavy, the sound of his retreat echoing in the quiet room. He disappeared into the guest room, shutting the door firmly behind him without so much as a glance in your direction.

You sat frozen on the couch, staring at the empty space he’d left behind. The tightness in your chest grew until it felt unbearable, and you pressed your trembling hands against your thighs in an attempt to ground yourself. But it was no use. The ache, the confusion, the fear—they were all too overwhelming.

For a moment, you considered going after him, trying to talk again, to fix the broken pieces between you. But the memory of his cold tone, his distant demeanor, held you back. He needed space. Maybe you both did.

With a shaky sigh, you pulled yourself up from the couch and headed toward the bedroom. The quiet house felt even emptier than before, each step amplifying the loneliness that had settled deep in your chest. Once inside, you closed the door softly, leaning against it as tears slipped down your cheeks.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t how you pictured your life with Jensen—the man you loved more than anyone. The man who had once made you feel safe and cherished now felt like a stranger. And you couldn’t shake the fear that this chasm between you might never be bridged.

Neither of you could sleep. The house was steeped in a heavy, almost oppressive silence, broken only by the faint creaks of the floorboards as Jensen shifted in the guest room. Despite his exhaustion—days of little rest piling up—his mind refused to quiet. He stared at the ceiling, his thoughts looping endlessly. The anger and frustration had simmered down, but in their place was a hollow ache he didn’t know how to fill.

You weren’t faring any better. Your body felt drained, your mind weighed down by the emotional toll of the past few days. By three in the morning, you were hunched over the toilet again, your stomach rejecting even the water you’d managed to sip throughout the evening. The nausea felt relentless, and the exhaustion was so profound that you could barely keep your eyes open. Yet, sleep refused to come.

The sound of you retching must have carried through the house because, before long, there was a soft knock at the bathroom door. You didn’t have the energy to answer, but the door creaked open slightly anyway.

Jensen leaned against the doorframe for a moment, his jaw tight and his expression shadowed with exhaustion. He was still angry—angry at the situation, at the impossible mess you were both tangled in—but he couldn’t ignore the awful sound of you retching, for over 30 minutes now. It was pitiful, like someone barely hanging on, and no matter how confused or frustrated he was, Jensen couldn’t just stand by and pretend he hadn’t heard it.

He stepped inside the bathroom, his footsteps soft but deliberate. His gaze landed on you, hunched over the toilet, your body trembling with the effort of keeping yourself upright. The sight of you, so vulnerable and clearly miserable, made his chest tighten with something that cut through the anger: concern.

“You sound like death warmed over”, he muttered, his voice gruff but not unkind as he crouched down beside you.

You didn’t have the strength to respond, your head resting against your forearm as you gasped for breath. The room spun slightly, and you felt the coolness of his presence next to you, his hand hovering like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you.

“Did you even eat anything today?”, he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now, less sharp.

You shook your head weakly, not trusting your voice to answer. The nausea was relentless, and even water had betrayed you earlier.

Jensen sighed heavily, his frustration clear, but it wasn’t directed at you this time. “You’re going to end up in the hospital if this keeps up”, he said, his voice rough. “You can’t just—”. He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair before letting out another sigh. “Stay here”.

You heard him stand and leave the room briefly, the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall. When he returned, he had a glass of water and a damp washcloth in his hands. He knelt back down beside you, holding the glass out.

“Small sips”, he instructed, his tone firm but not harsh. “Don’t try to chug it. Just… ease into it”.

You took the glass with trembling hands, managing a small sip before your stomach threatened to rebel again. He watched you carefully, his expression still strained, but his presence was steadying.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with us”, Jensen admitted quietly, his green eyes fixed on yours. “But I can’t just sit in the other room and listen to you like this”.

Your voice was barely audible as you whispered, “I’m so sorry, Jensen”. The words were weak, trembling, and filled with the kind of heartbreak that only came from the depths of your soul. Tears slipped down your cheeks, unstoppable as the sobs bubbled up from inside you, leaving you a breathless, shaking mess.

“I didn’t lie to you”, you managed between shaky breaths, your words broken and desperate. “I would never hurt you, Jensen. I swear, you’ll see tomorrow. You’ll see…”.

Jensen’s heart clenched painfully as he watched you fall apart in front of him. You were a wreck—tears streaming, sobs making it nearly impossible for you to breathe properly, your body trembling from the sheer exhaustion of days without keeping food down. His anger, his frustration, all of it took a backseat as the reality of your physical state hit him like a freight train.

Before he could respond, your body lurched again, and you turned back toward the toilet, retching violently. Your stomach was empty, but it didn’t seem to matter. The dry heaves wracked your frame, leaving you gasping for air and clinging to the toilet for support. Jensen didn’t hesitate this time. He was beside you in an instant, one hand holding back your hair while the other rested on your back, steady and reassuring.

“This isn’t healthy”, he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with worry. “This isn’t okay—not for you, and not if…” His voice faltered, but his hand remained firm against your back. “Not if you’re really pregnant”.

You sobbed harder, your body shaking with the effort of holding yourself up. “I know”, you choked out, your voice barely audible. “I know it’s not. But I can’t—”. Another retch interrupted you, leaving you gasping and trembling. “I don’t know what to do”.

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he felt the weight of your words. You were falling apart, and for all his anger and confusion, he couldn’t stand to see you like this. “We’ll figure it out”, he said softly, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “We’ll figure it out, okay? But you can’t keep going like this. You’re going to make yourself sick. Really sick”.

He shifted, grabbing the damp washcloth again and pressing it gently against your forehead once you leaned back from the toilet. His green eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere tonight”, he said quietly, his tone firm. “And tomorrow, we’ll deal with everything. But right now, we need to get you through the night”.

You nodded weakly, your body too spent to argue, too exhausted to feel anything but the faint flicker of relief that he was still there.

Eventually, without even realizing it, you drifted into a fitful sleep against Jensen’s side. Your body, utterly spent from the exhaustion and the endless spiral of emotions, gave in to the warmth and steadiness of his presence. Jensen sat there, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared at the wall, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions.

He was caught in an unbearable tug-of-war. On one side, there was the love he felt for you—the fierce, all-consuming kind that made him want to protect you no matter what. On the other, there was the gnawing ache of betrayal he couldn’t quite shake, the possibility that everything you’d built together could be unraveling with lies.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as he battled himself. His gaze dropped to your sleeping face, tear-streaked and pale. The vulnerability etched into your features made something deep in his chest twist painfully. You were hurting, and even in his anger, he couldn’t turn away from that.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jensen let out a slow, shaky breath. He couldn’t leave you like this—not tonight. His protective instincts overrode the storm of doubts in his mind as he carefully scooped you up, cradling you against his chest. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake, your head resting against his shoulder as he carried you to the bedroom.

He laid you gently on the bed, tucking the blankets around you with a tenderness that belied the war raging inside him. As he moved to lay down beside you, your eyes fluttered open briefly, glassy with exhaustion but still aware enough to speak.

“I’m not her, Jensen”, you whispered, your voice fragile but steady, carrying a quiet plea for him to believe you.

Jensen’s chest tightened, and his breath caught in his throat. But before he could respond, you were already drifting back into sleep, your breathing evening out as the weight of the night finally pulled you under.

He lay beside you, staring at the ceiling, the echo of your words looping in his mind. “I’m not her”. They were simple, yet they carried the weight of everything unsaid between you.

Jensen didn’t sleep that night. His mind churned with memories, fears, and hopes, all tangled together in an exhausting loop. But as he listened to the sound of your soft, even breaths beside him, his hand instinctively reached for yours under the blanket. He held it tightly, as though it was the only anchor keeping him grounded.

The next morning, Jensen stood in the kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter with his third cup of coffee in hand. He’d showered and dressed early, but the exhaustion etched into his face hadn’t washed away. The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced than ever, and his expression was a mix of weariness and tension.

The house was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the refrigerator and the soft clink of his coffee mug against the counter. He glanced at the clock for the third time in ten minutes, the looming doctor’s appointment weighing on his mind. He hadn’t slept at all, his thoughts looping endlessly between doubt, anger, and the faint, stubborn hope that maybe—just maybe—he’d been wrong to jump to conclusions.

When he heard soft footsteps padding down the hall, his posture stiffened. He looked up to see you standing in the doorway, still pale and tired but with a tentative resolve in your eyes. The sight of you made his chest tighten.

“Morning”, you said softly, your voice hoarse from the night before.

Jensen nodded, his grip tightening on his coffee mug. “Morning”, he replied, his tone flat but not unkind. He watched as you hesitated, your eyes flickering toward him and then away, as though unsure of how to approach him after everything.

You stepped into the kitchen, leaning slightly against the counter opposite him. “You’re up early”, you said, trying to fill the heavy silence.

“Couldn’t sleep”, he admitted, his voice quieter now. He took a sip of his coffee, the bitterness doing little to ease the tightness in his throat. “Doctor’s appointment in a couple hours”.

Your eyes dropped to your hands, fidgeting nervously with the edge of the blanket. “Jensen…”, you started, but your voice faltered, and you didn’t know what else to say.

He sighed, setting his mug down and crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ll figure this out”, he said, his voice carrying an edge of determination despite the fatigue. “One way or another, we’ll get the answers”.

The tension between you was palpable, but there was also an unspoken understanding that today was a turning point. Everything hinged on what the doctor would say, on whether the impossible had truly happened or if the cracks between you would grow even wider.

“Do you want me to come with you?”, you asked hesitantly, your voice trembling slightly.

Jensen stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he nodded. “Yeah”, he said softly.

The words hung between you, a fragile truce as you both prepared for what the day would bring.

Jensen’s green eyes met yours, but there was a flicker of hesitation in them as he spoke. “Do you… do you want me to come with you? To your appointment?”, he asked, his voice quiet and cautious. The tension in his posture was palpable, and you could see it wasn’t an offer made with ease.

You looked at him, your heart aching. You wanted him there so desperately—to hold your hand, to be a united front in this storm, to share the weight of whatever was to come. But the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers flexed slightly as if bracing himself, told you the truth he wouldn’t say: he didn’t want to go. The thought of facing that moment together terrified him in ways he couldn’t fully express.

For a moment, the words stuck in your throat. You wanted to tell him it would mean everything for him to be there, but you also didn’t want to push him further than he could bear. You took a deep breath, your voice trembling as you spoke.

“I want you there, Jensen”, you admitted softly, your eyes searching his. “But… I can see you don’t want to be”.

His gaze dropped, his hand tightening around the mug he was still holding. He looked as though he wanted to say something, to protest, but no words came. Instead, he let out a long sigh, setting the mug down with a faint clink before rubbing a hand over his face.

Jensen hesitated, his lips parting as though to argue, to explain. “It’s not that I—”, he started, his voice strained and unsure, but you shook your head gently, cutting him off before he could finish.

“It’s alright”, you said softly, forcing a small, sad smile as you looked at him. “I can handle this”.

The words felt heavier than you intended, and for a moment, Jensen’s expression twisted with something like guilt. He looked as though he wanted to protest, but the weight of everything left him silent, standing frozen as you turned and walked toward the stairs.

Your footsteps felt louder than usual, the quiet tension in the house amplifying every small sound. As you climbed the stairs, you couldn’t stop the wave of emotion rising in your chest. You wanted him there so badly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to force him into something he wasn’t ready for. You told yourself it was better this way—simpler, less painful. But it didn’t stop the ache that settled deep in your heart.

Once in the bedroom, you closed the door softly behind you and leaned against it for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You couldn’t afford to fall apart now. There would be time for that later—after you knew for certain, after you had answers. For now, you needed to get through the day.

You crossed the room and began to get ready, your movements slow and deliberate. As you pulled on your clothes and brushed your hair, you tried to focus on the task at hand rather than the whirlwind of doubt, fear, and sadness threatening to consume you.

Downstairs, Jensen stood by the kitchen counter, staring blankly at his coffee mug. His hands flexed at his sides, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he replayed your words in his mind. “I can handle this”.

The phrase gnawed at him, stirring a sense of failure he couldn’t shake. He knew you needed him—he could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. But the weight of his own doubts and fears felt insurmountable, leaving him paralyzed.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the counter. He hated himself for hesitating, for letting his own turmoil keep him from being there for you. But he didn’t know how to face this—not when the foundations of everything he thought he knew were already crumbling beneath him.

The sound of footsteps upstairs pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced toward the stairs, his heart heavy.

The air between you felt thick as you descended the stairs, bag slung over your shoulder and keys in hand. Jensen hadn’t moved from his spot by the counter, still gripping the edge as though it was the only thing keeping him upright. His green eyes flicked to yours as you approached, filled with a storm of emotions he couldn’t seem to voice.

You stopped a few feet away, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “I’ll pick you up after”, you whispered, your voice soft but steady, though the crack of vulnerability in it betrayed you. You didn’t want to make this harder than it already was—for either of you.

Jensen’s lips parted slightly, like he was going to say something, but the words didn’t come. His gaze searched yours, and for a brief moment, his hand twitched as though he might reach out to you. Instead, he stayed rooted to the spot, silent and still, his jaw tightening as his eyes glistened with something he wouldn’t let fall.

You forced a faint, shaky smile, clutching your keys tighter as you turned toward the door. The sound of your footsteps echoed faintly, and when you reached the doorknob, you paused, looking back over your shoulder. Jensen hadn’t moved an inch, his gaze fixed on the floor now, the lines of his face etched with pain and conflict.

“I’ll text you when I’m done”, you added, your voice barely audible before you stepped out into the cool morning air and closed the door softly behind you.

As you walked to your car, the weight of everything pressed down on you, heavier with every step. You slipped into the driver’s seat, resting your hands on the steering wheel for a moment as you exhaled shakily. The thought of going to the appointment alone was daunting, but you pushed the fear aside, focusing on the road ahead.

Inside the house, Jensen finally moved, letting out a sharp breath as he rubbed his hands over his face. He felt hollow, torn between chasing after you and staying rooted in his uncertainty. The sound of the door closing had been too final, and the silence that followed was deafening.

He leaned heavily against the counter, his head hanging as he muttered to himself, “What the hell is wrong with me?”. But even he didn’t have an answer.

As you parked in front of the doctor’s office, your hands gripping the steering wheel tightly while you stared at the building. Your nerves felt like they were on fire, twisting and tightening in your stomach. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but it did little to ease the racing thoughts in your mind.

What if I am pregnant? What if I’m not? What happens either way?

The questions circled endlessly, each one feeding the other until it felt like your chest was caving in. You had hoped, desperately, that the home tests were wrong. That the exhaustion, nausea, and missed periods were just the result of stress, not something more life-changing. But five positive tests weren’t easy to dismiss, no matter how much you wanted to.

You sighed deeply, resting your forehead against the steering wheel for a moment before forcing yourself to move. Your hands shook slightly as you opened the car door and stepped out into the crisp air, your breath fogging in front of you as you made your way toward the entrance.

The waiting room was quiet, almost eerily so, with just a soft hum of conversation from the receptionist desk and the faint sound of pages turning from someone flipping through a magazine. You checked in, your voice shaky as you gave your name, and then you sat down, your leg bouncing nervously as you waited.

Every second felt like an eternity, the sterile walls closing in around you as your thoughts ran wild.

Finally, your name was called, and you stood on shaky legs, making your way toward the doctor’s office. The nurse led you to the examination room, and you barely noticed the sound of your shoes squeaking on the tile floor. Your mind was a blur, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you sat down, waiting for the doctor to come in.

When he entered, he was holding a folder, a kind smile on his face as he closed the door behind him. He settled into his chair, flipping through the papers in his hands before looking up at you.

“Well”, he began, his tone cheerful but professional, “it’s not stress, and you’re not sick”. He paused, letting the words hang in the air for just a moment before continuing. “You’re pregnant. Congratulations”.

Your breath caught in your throat, the words hitting you like a freight train. You stared at him, frozen in place, as if your brain was refusing to process what he’d just said.

He smiled again, unaware of the storm raging inside you, and slid a piece of paper across the desk. “Here’s a list of gynecologists in the area”, he said. “You’ll want to set up your first prenatal appointment soon. They’ll be able to walk you through everything you need to know moving forward”.

You didn’t move. You didn’t even reach for the paper. The room felt like it was spinning, your breath coming in shallow bursts as the weight of his words settled over you. Pregnant. He’d said it so casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, but to you, it felt anything but.

“Are… are you sure?”, you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

He nodded, his expression softening as he met your eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. The tests don’t lie. You’re pregnant”.

You blinked, tears welling in your eyes as you looked down at your hands, your mind racing. Everything felt surreal, like you were watching someone else’s life unfold instead of your own.

The doctor seemed to sense your overwhelm, his voice gentle as he added, “Take your time. It’s a lot to take in. If you have any questions or concerns, I’m here to help”.

You nodded weakly, still unable to speak. Slowly, you reached out and took the list of gynecologists, clutching it in your trembling hands.

“Congratulations again”, the doctor said warmly before standing and leaving the room, giving you a moment to collect yourself.

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the list in your hands. Pregnant. The word echoed in your mind, over and over, as the enormity of the situation began to sink in.

You didn’t know how long you sat in the doctor’s office, frozen in place with the list of gynecologists clutched in your hands. Time seemed irrelevant as your mind replayed the doctor’s words over and over. Pregnant. The weight of it pressed down on you like a boulder, suffocating and impossible to ignore.

Eventually, you forced yourself to stand. Your legs felt shaky as you made your way back to your car, sliding into the driver’s seat and gripping the steering wheel tightly. The drive home was a blur, the world outside the window passing in muted tones as your thoughts churned relentlessly. Pregnant. Jensen. His appointment.

You pulled into the driveway, the house looming in front of you like a question you didn’t have an answer for. Home. A place that had felt safe and warm just weeks ago now felt like a battleground, filled with tension and doubt.

As you sat in the car, staring blankly at the dashboard, you realized you hadn’t texted Jensen after leaving the doctor’s office. Your fingers trembled as you typed out a quick message:

"I'm here. Ready whenever you are".

You barely hit send before the screen blurred with your unshed tears. Setting your phone down, you leaned back into the seat, staring out of the window as the weight of everything pressed down on you once again. Minutes felt like hours, the silence in the car echoing loudly in your head.

To your surprise, Jensen was at the passenger side door within minutes, sliding in without a word. He closed the door softly, but the air between you felt thick with tension. You didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes on the world outside, watching as the trees swayed gently in the wind. Your hands rested loosely on the steering wheel, your fingers tapping lightly—a nervous habit you couldn’t seem to stop.

Jensen shifted in his seat, his gaze on you as if he were trying to decipher your thoughts. His jaw was tight, and his green eyes looked more tired than ever. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but hesitated, his hands clenching into fists in his lap before he finally found the courage.

“Are you…”, he started, his voice low and hesitant. “Are you pregnant?”.

You didn’t answer right away, your heart hammering in your chest. The word sat heavy on your tongue, but saying it out loud felt like breaking something fragile. You finally nodded, still not looking at him. “Yeah”, you whispered, the single word carrying more weight than you thought possible.

Jensen inhaled sharply, leaning back in his seat. He rubbed a hand over his face, his expression unreadable as he stared straight ahead. “Okay”, he said after a long moment, his voice almost too calm. “Let’s… let’s go”.

You nodded silently, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway. The ride to his doctor’s office was quiet, both of you drowning in your own thoughts.

Jensen didn’t press for details, but you could feel his gaze flicking toward you every so often, like he was still trying to convince himself of what you’d just confirmed. He wanted to know the truth more than anything—but at the same time, the fear of what that truth might mean seemed to paralyze him.

The sterile atmosphere of the waiting room only added to the tension clawing at your chest. You sat alone, your hands tightly clasped together in your lap as you tried to steady your breathing. The faint hum of fluorescent lights and the distant murmur of voices from down the hall barely registered as you fought against the nausea that still hadn’t let up. Every few seconds, your stomach twisted painfully, and you had to focus on slow, deliberate breaths to keep from rushing to the bathroom.

Jensen had been gone for what felt like an eternity, and the time stretched endlessly as your mind raced. You knew he wasn’t himself right now. The weight of everything—the doubts, the accusations, the impossibility of the situation—was visibly pressing down on him. The thought of Jensen in that sterile little room, trying to gather a sample while drowning in the same swirling emotions, made your chest ache.

If things had been different—if everything hadn’t been so fractured—you might have been by his side, offering a playful smile, teasing him, or even helping him in a much more… physical way. But now, the gap between you felt wider than ever. Instead of playful banter, there was silence. Instead of closeness, there was an invisible wall you weren’t sure how to break down.

You leaned your head back against the wall, closing your eyes briefly as you tried to push away the overwhelming emotions and the persistent nausea. But it was impossible not to think about what Jensen might be feeling in that moment. He was a man who thrived on control and certainty, and this situation was the opposite of everything he relied on.

Finally, the door to the hallway opened, and Jensen emerged. His shoulders were tense, his jaw set, and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He didn’t meet your eyes right away as he crossed the waiting room, his steps purposeful but heavy.

“It’s done”, he said shortly, his voice clipped as he stopped in front of you. He still didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder. “They’ll have the results in a few hours”.

You nodded, standing up slowly, your knees wobbling slightly from the effort. Jensen finally glanced at you, and for a brief moment, his expression softened, worry flickering in his green eyes. But just as quickly, he looked away again, the tension in his body radiating outward like an unspoken barrier.

“Let’s go”, he said quietly, heading for the door. You followed silently, unsure of what to say or how to bridge the widening gap between you.

As you approached the car, Jensen glanced at you, noticing the slight wobble in your step and the way your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the car door.

“I’ll drive”, he said curtly, stepping around to the driver’s side and gesturing for you to get in on the passenger side.

You didn’t argue. You were too exhausted, too emotionally drained to put up a fight. Sliding into the seat, you closed your eyes briefly, leaning your head against the cool window as Jensen started the car. The ride was quiet, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.

A few minutes later, the car slowed, and you opened your eyes to see he’d pulled into the parking lot of a small Thai restaurant. Still, he didn’t speak, just got out of the car and walked inside without so much as a glance back at you.

You stared out the window, your thoughts racing as you tried to make sense of his actions.

Ten minutes later, Jensen emerged, a small plastic bag in his hand. He walked back to the car with a purposeful stride, opened the driver’s door, and slid in without a word. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a plain bowl of steamed rice and a bottle of water, handing them to you.

“Here”, he said simply, his voice quiet but devoid of the usual warmth you were used to.

You took the food hesitantly, murmuring a soft, “Thank you”, as your fingers brushed against his. He didn’t acknowledge the gratitude, his eyes fixed on the steering wheel as he started the car again.

The silence between you was deafening, and you could feel the unspoken tension pressing down on both of you. Jensen’s jaw was clenched tight, and his knuckles whitened as he gripped the wheel. He seemed lost in his thoughts, his expression unreadable.

You picked at the rice, the plainness of it easier on your churning stomach. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

As the car turned back onto the main road, you glanced at Jensen, his profile illuminated by the glow of passing streetlights. He looked exhausted, his face drawn and his eyes clouded. It was clear he was carrying just as much as you were, and it weighed on him in ways you hadn’t fully understood until now.

Jensen’s hand tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as his voice broke through the silence, low and tight. “I don’t know what to say to you anymore”, he admitted, his words carrying a weight that made your chest tighten.

The tears filled your eyes almost instantly, the familiar sting making you curse yourself internally. You’d cried so much over the past days, you should have been empty by now. But here you were again, breaking under the pressure of his words, the tension, the doubt that had consumed both of you.

You blinked rapidly, trying to will the tears away, but it was useless. They slid down your cheeks silently as you stared out of the window, your fingers tightening around the bottle of water he’d handed you earlier. You felt small, fragile, and more alone than ever, despite Jensen sitting just inches away.

“I don’t know what to say either”, you whispered finally, your voice trembling as you kept your gaze fixed on the food. “Every time I try, it feels like it’s not enough. Like I can’t make you believe me”.

Jensen let out a shaky breath, his grip on the wheel loosening slightly as he glanced at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “I want to believe you”, he said, his voice softer but no less strained. “I really do. But… I’m scared, alright? I’m fucking terrified”.

His admission caught you off guard, and you turned to look at him, your tear-streaked face lit by the dim glow of the dashboard. “Scared of what?”, you asked, your voice breaking.

He hesitated, his jaw clenching as he searched for the right words. “Of losing you”, he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Of finding out that everything I thought we had was just… not real. I don’t think I could survive that”.

Your heart twisted at his confession, the vulnerability in his tone cutting through the haze of your own pain.

"You’ll have your answers in a few hours, Jensen”, you said quietly, your voice wavering as you stared at the road ahead. “While I’m…”. You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. You didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to twist the knife any deeper, but the weight of everything inside you pushed it out. “I’m left with believing that this picture was just staged. For me, there isn’t some test results showing you didn’t lie”.

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel the tension rolling off Jensen in waves, his knuckles tightening again on the steering wheel. His jaw clenched, and his chest rose and fell heavily as though he was struggling to contain his emotions.

“That’s not fair”, he said finally, his voice low but filled with restrained pain. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel like I’m walking a tightrope too? I’m putting everything on the line for you, and you’re telling me you’re stuck ‘believing’?”.

You turned to face him, the tears streaming down your cheeks making it hard to see. “Because that’s all I have, Jensen!”, you snapped, the frustration and heartbreak spilling over. “I don’t have proof. I don’t have a test result to tell me you didn’t kiss her, or let her get that close, or—”. You stopped, biting down on your trembling lip as your voice broke.

Jensen exhaled sharply, his hand slamming against the steering wheel in frustration. “I’ve told you the truth, dammit! I’ve told you over and over that I didn’t want any of that, that I didn’t let it happen. But yeah, sure, you’re right—there’s no test for that. All I have is my word, and apparently, that’s not enough”.

The car slowed as he pulled over to the side of the road, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. He turned to look at you, his green eyes blazing with a mix of hurt and anger.

“I love you, okay?”, he said, his voice cracking. “More than I’ve loved anyone. But if you can’t believe me—if you can’t trust me even after I’ve laid everything bare—then what’s the point?”.

"You don’t trust me either!”, you fired back, your voice shaking but firm as you glared at Jensen. “You made that appointment to check your fucking sperm instead of believing me! None of us is better than the fucking other right now!”.

Jensen’s face twisted with frustration, his hand gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Don’t you dare turn this on me!”, he shouted, his voice rising in anger. “I made that appointment because the fucking math doesn’t add up! Because I needed to know if there was even a chance—any chance—that what you’re saying is real!”.

“And I’m supposed to just sit here and be okay with that?”, you snapped, your voice trembling as you stared him down. “You think it doesn’t hurt that you doubted me enough to even need those results? You think it doesn’t tear me apart that you couldn’t just believe me?”.

“I couldn’t!”, Jensen shouted, his voice breaking as he slammed his hand against the wheel again. “Not because I don’t want to, but because I’ve been lied to before! Manipulated before! I can’t—I can’t go through that again. Not with you”.

His voice cracked on the last words, and for a moment, the tension in the car shifted, his anger giving way to something rawer, more vulnerable. His shoulders sagged as he leaned back in his seat, running a hand down his face as if trying to pull himself together.

The words caught in your throat, tangled and heavy as you tried to process what he’d just said. You weren’t any better, and you knew it. You hadn’t trusted him either, even when he’d told you the picture was staged. You wanted to defend yourself, to explain how the doubt crept in, but the truth was, you couldn’t. You didn’t have an excuse.

Jensen let out a hollow, bitter laugh, shaking his head as his hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Welcome to the world of Danneel”, he muttered, his voice dripping with anger and exhaustion. He slammed his palm against the wheel again, harder this time, the sound echoing through the car. “That’s exactly what she fucking wanted. And we’re just giving it to her, aren’t we?”.

You flinched slightly at the force of his anger, your stomach churning not just from the tension but from the nausea that still lingered. “Jensen…”, you began softly, unsure of what to say, unsure if anything you said would even matter.

He turned his head slightly, his gaze fixed out of the window as his chest heaved with uneven breaths. “She wanted this”, he said again, his voice quieter now but no less sharp. “She wanted to plant doubt, to mess with my fucking head, with your head. And it worked. Because now, here we are, tearing each other apart, just like she fucking planned”.

You looked down at your hands in your lap, your fingers trembling as his words sank in. “I didn’t mean to doubt you”, you whispered, your voice breaking. “I didn’t want to. But it just… it hurt so much, seeing that picture, reading that message…”.

Jensen’s head snapped back toward you, his eyes blazing. “And you think it didn’t hurt to have you shut me out for days? To be accused of cheating when I’ve done everything—everything—to prove to you that I want this life with you?”.

The tears you’d been trying to hold back spilled over, slipping silently down your cheeks.

Jensen closed his eyes tightly, his hands gripping the wheel again before he finally let out a deep, shuddering breath. “I would never cheat on you, (Y/N)!”, he said firmly, his voice trembling slightly but filled with conviction. “Never. Do you hear me? I love you way too much for that”.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he didn’t let you, shaking his head as his voice grew louder, more desperate. “What do you want me to do? You want me to fucking propose to you to finally make you believe me? Alright, fine. I’ll fucking propose”.

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, the weight of them stunned you both. His chest heaved as he stared at you, his eyes glistening, his jaw tight. It wasn’t just anger—it was fear, heartbreak, and a desperate attempt to keep you from slipping away.

“Jensen…”, you whispered, your voice barely audible as you reached out to him, your trembling hand resting on his arm. “That’s not what this is about”.

“Then what is it about?”, he snapped, though his voice cracked under the strain. “Because I don’t know how else to prove to you that I’m all in. That I love you. That I would never, never hurt you like that”.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, your chest aching as his words pierced through the fog of doubt and fear that had been clouding your heart. You could see it in his face, hear it in his voice—he wasn’t just angry; he was breaking. And the realization broke something in you too.

“You would really marry me just to make me believe you?”, you whispered through your sobs, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your voice was shaky, almost disbelieving, as you stared at Jensen. You knew how much he hated the thought of marriage—how his past with Danneel had made the idea feel like a trap rather than a promise. The fact that he would even suggest it now hit you harder than anything else.

Jensen’s green eyes softened slightly, his grip on the wheel loosening as his shoulders sagged. “Yes”, he said quietly, his voice rough but steady. “If that’s what it takes. If that’s what I have to do to make you see that I’m not going anywhere… then yeah. I’d marry you”.

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with emotion. His jaw tightened as he looked at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But it’s not just to prove something, (Y/N)”, he continued, his voice lowering. “I’d marry you because I want to. Because you’re it for me. You’re my future. I don’t care about the past anymore—I just want you”.

Your breath hitched, your heart twisting as his words broke through the layers of fear and doubt that had been building for days. “Jensen…”, you started, but your voice cracked, and you couldn’t get the words out.

He turned to face you fully, his hands reaching for yours. His grip was warm and firm, grounding you in the moment. “I know I’ve been a mess”, he said softly. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I know it’s hard to trust me right now. But I’m telling you, (Y/N), I will do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us”.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes stealing the breath from your lungs. “I don’t need you to marry me”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “I just… I need to know we’re okay. That we can get through this”.

Jensen exhaled deeply, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he nodded. “We will,” he promised, his voice strong and certain. “We’ll get through this. Together”.

For the first time in days, a small flicker of hope sparked in your chest. You didn’t know what the future held, but in that moment, with Jensen’s hands holding yours and his eyes locked on yours, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could face it together.

Jensen hesitated, his hands still holding yours tightly, his green eyes searching your face as though he could find the truth hidden in your expression. His jaw clenched, and he took a shaky breath, his voice quieter this time but no less urgent.

“Can you promise me?”, he asked, his tone laced with raw vulnerability. “Can you promise me, right here, right now, that you didn’t cheat on me?”.

Your heart ached at the question, at the pain it revealed. He was laying everything bare, risking so much just to find some semblance of clarity in the storm that had overtaken your lives. Tears welled in your eyes again as you nodded, your voice trembling but firm.

“I promise”, you said, looking him directly in the eyes. “Jensen, I promise I didn’t cheat on you. I’ve never even thought about it. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t”.

Jensen closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling heavily as he processed your words. When he finally opened his eyes again, they were softer, the sharp edge of anger replaced with something more vulnerable. “Then… I believe you”, he whispered, his voice low and hesitant, as though saying it out loud made him feel exposed.

He pulled away slightly, his hands leaving yours as he leaned back into his seat, his posture stiff and tense. The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the weight of everything that had been said and unsaid between you. Neither of you seemed to know how to fill the space, the quiet stretching out like a chasm.

Eventually, Jensen broke it, his voice quiet but firm as he nodded toward the container of food he’d brought for you earlier. “You need to eat something”, he mumbled, not looking directly at you but still glancing toward the untouched bowl of rice.

Your stomach churned at the thought of eating, but the concern in his voice made you hesitate. You glanced at the food and then back at him, noticing the lines of exhaustion etched into his face, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced now than they’d been even hours ago.

“I don’t know if I can keep it down”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen sighed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You have to try”, he said, his tone more gentle this time. “Even if it’s just a little. You haven’t eaten properly in days, and… you’re pregnant… you need to take care of yourself”.

The mention of the pregnancy made your chest tighten, but you nodded, reaching for the container with trembling hands. Jensen watched you for a moment, his gaze steady but filled with worry, before he leaned back again, running a hand through his hair as though trying to pull himself together.

You took a small bite of the rice, forcing it down despite the way your stomach protested. The quiet between you lingered, but there was a faint shift, a fragile truce beginning to take shape. For now, it was enough.

———————————

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

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Part 39

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[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Series Masterlist

Summary: When Jake is tasked with taking his kids this festive season, he never though he’d get a call in the middle of the night that would change his life. Marriage is tougher than it seemed on paper—but whats harder than accepting your marriage is crumbling around you is watching you ex wife slowly fade away.

Warnings: Character Death. Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ANGST. Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil.

Author Note: Masterlist subject to change as series is still a work in progress. Descriptions, word counts and titles may vary.

-> Chapter One: [The Diagnosis] The last thing you ever expected was to be diagnosed with breast cancer. To make matters worse? You’d been separated from the love of your life for just shy of a year. How do you tell the love of your life you might be dying? It’s simple really— You don’t. (Out Now) 2.1

-> Chapter Two: [Chemo & Charisma] Jake arrives in Rhode Island to accompany his three kids back to Houston Texas the next morning. He expects it to be slightly awkward, but something he doesn’t expect is to be cryptically seduced by you—his ex wife. (Out Now) 4.6

-> Chapter Three: [V For Vendetta] When your stomach can’t handle the Chemo medication, you empty the content of your stomach. While doing so, you and Jake come to a crossroads about your relationship going forward. (Out Now) 4.5

-> Chapter Four: [Parental Guidance] Jakes Mother simply cannot understand what he saw in you, your mother simply cannot comprehend why you left Jake. (Out Now) 4.1

-> Chapter Five: [Why Do They Call It Love?] Jake spends time with his side of the family and your kiddos in Texas. The lies quickly come to an end though when an overworked and overwhelmed nursing student makes the wrong call to your not so emergent contact. (Out Now) 5k

-> Chapter Six: [Chaos & Conflict] As panic consumes Jake after finding out about your current medical condition, Jake calls your mother to fill in the gaps. Nurse Lydia escapes being taken to her supervisor and Jake lets lose on his mother who tries to stop him leaving. (Out Now) 4.4k

-> Chapter Seven [Faucet Failure] Jake makes his way back to you after finding out the truth. While under sedation to give your brain some rest, you remember the good times and the bad with your husband. (Out Now)4.6

-> Chapter Eight [Oh, Honeybee] Jake can’t accept why you’d keep such a life threatening situation a secret and you can’t accept why he suddenly seems to care. (Out Now) 4k

-> Chapter Nine [The Pomegranate Theory] Jakes still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening with your health. Doctor Ignatii oversteps? And you settle in while Jake helps you write some of your newest book. (Out Now) 4.3

-> Chapter Ten [The Potato Head Society & The Other Guy, Jarred?] Jake helps you shave your head in hopes of keeping your power and control. Facing your own mortality makes you question your faith in a higher authority and Jensen and Jake met for the first, and what you hope, will be the last time. (Out Now) 4.0k

-> Chapter Eleven [The Man] When Jensen and Jake butt heads over who’s what to you, it blows way out of proportion to an extent so high, that Jake lashes out. (Out Now) 5.6

-> Chapter Twelve [Bring Me The Horizon] After Jensen and Jake finish their face-off, you tell Jake how it is. He practices the art of holding himself accountable for his actions, and you get a call that would send you into a downward spiral. Putting you in jeopardy right before your surgery. 5.1k

-> Chapter Thirteen [Panic Room] Jakes darkest fears come to fruition when surgery doesn’t go as planned and the months to come bring a new reality he never saw coming. 5.5k

-> Epilogue: Part One [Boulevard of Broken Dream] You received a call you and Bradley Bradshaw have been waiting on for what felt like a decade. Jakes mother causes a scene as worry consumes you. Does Jake want the very thing that put him in the hospital in the first place? 6.2k

-> Epilogue: Part Two

[holylulusworld]

Forbidden Love (3) - Kinktober 1

Summary: It’s time for payback. Dot must pay for her crimes.

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Kink: Homewrecker kink

Warnings: light smut, unprotected sex, homewrecker kink, past cheating, mentions of amateur sex tapes, collars, mentions of character’s death, mentions of a panic attack/mental breakdown, possessive Bucky

Catch up here: Forbidden Lust (2) sequel to Forbidden Lust

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

The thrill is the best you ever experienced. It’s forbidden and dangerous, but I couldn’t care less. Not with Bucky taking you apart like the hungry beast he can turn into. He barely keeps his hands to himself, and when you told him you wanted to get back at Dot, Bucky lost all control.

He bought a collar with his name on it. You first laughed about his eagerness but allowed him to put it around your neck. He called you his pretty doll before he had you on hands and knees.

“Baby, you look so good like that,” Bucky purrs in your ear. He grips the collar to look at the ‘B’ dangling from the expensive leather band. “You’re mine now. Say it.” His jealous streak is a turn-on. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You press your hands against his abs to slow him down. “Fuck me slow, baby. Make me feel your huge cock with every thrust.”

His hips still the moment you rake your nails over his chest to leave your mark on him. He smirks, eyes dropping to the collar again.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, and wiggle your hips. “Bucky! Don’t stop moving. You’re ruining the video. I wanted her to see that you’re my man now.”

“You’re naughty,” he leans over you to steal a kiss. It’s a sweet kiss, slow and sensual. Bucky moves his hips again, slowly. “Did you think I’d send her the video? No one can see you naked but me.”

You wind your legs tighter around his thighs, holding him deep inside of your body as you start meeting his thrusts. The thought alone that you stole your lover from the person you hate the most has you tethering on the edge.

He silences your moans with his mouth, swallowing every sinful noise with his soft lips. Bucky rocks faster into you, close to his high. “You’re mine. Only mine.” He chants with every deep thrust.

“Yours,” you whimper against his lips when you fall apart. “Only yours.”

He hides his face in your neck and sighs. That’s what he wanted to hear. Bucky doesn’t share your attention well; you already figured that out.

“I love it when you wear my name.” He murmurs against your skin. “I hope you’ll wear it soon for real.”

Now, …

It feels like drowning. Your head is underwater, and your ears are not catching a sound. Breathing gets harder, and you struggle to keep the tears at bay.

The private investigator tried to explain the details of your father’s accident to you and Bucky, but you couldn’t listen to him.

All you heard was that your father’s accident wasn’t an accident. Now you’re close to having a panic attack or a mental breakdown. Your mind hasn’t decided yet.

You clutch your hands to your chest and try to remember a rhyme your dad taught you when you were a kid. It always calmed you, but not today.

“Doll, are you alright?” Bucky worriedly looks at you. You’re unusually silent, and your lips quiver. “Baby, tell me if it’s too much.”

“Shit, Ari,” Jake mutters as he looks up from his laptop. “You had to bring all this up again. We already knew Dot had something to do with Y/N’s dad’s death. Can you be a little more sensitive from now on?”

“I had to explain every detail,” Ari bites back. “That’s what I get paid for, Jensen. I did my job; now do yours and find out who helped her.”

“An insider,” you murmur. “Right?” You look up at Ari, who wrinkles his forehead. “If my dad’s death wasn’t an accident, they should’ve found out during the investigation following his death. But they told us it was an accident.”

“Lots of evidence just disappeared,” Jake explains. “I tried to dig a little deeper. It seems that the coroner changed their autopsy report. I found the original one. They believed deleting the file was enough. Not for Jakie the finder!”

“Jake, calm down,” Ari grunts. “Do you have the autopsy report, or not? I need proof, not assumptions.”

“I found the original autopsy report and messages between Dot and that bastard. Juicy ones. It seems the coroner changed the autopsy report after Dot promised him not only money but something more exciting.”

You make a retching noise. “I’m gonna get sick.”

“Baby doll,” Bucky gently runs his hand up and down your back. “Maybe you should lay down. I can do this alone. Let me do this for you.”

“No,” you pant. “I want to hear everything. I must know what she did to get away with murdering my father. I was holding a grudge against my deceased father because of her. She made me believe Dad forgot about me and my uncle.”

“I got the messages and the missing autopsy report. What else will we need, Ari?” Jake asks. “Do you have the accident report? What does it say?”

Ari shrugs. “Nothing we didn’t already know. I talked to everyone.” He explains that one of the investigators finds it suspicious that your father didn’t try to slow the car down. There were no skid marks.”

“Why did no one investigate his death further? I don’t understand.” You sniffle. “Did she pay them all, or are they just lazy?”

“A combination of both,” Jake gives you a sad smile. “If they declare his death an accident, their job is done. With the coroner handing the investigators a false autopsy report and the cops not wanting to investigate further, we have a shitty combination.”

“What can we do now?” Bucky looks at Ari. “Is there a way to bring Dot down?”

“We must prove that the first autopsy report was correct. Therefore, we need an exhumation and a second autopsy. I talked to the investigator. He’s willing to reopen your father’s case. His boss told him to close the file back then. He never believed in an accident.”

“Good…that’s good,” Bucky says. He watches you stare at Ari with wide, wet eyes. “Doll, I know this is much. Maybe you should have a break now.”

“I can’t let her get away with this. She killed my father and got away with it. Please don’t shut me out. I’m no damsel in distress.”

The men nod.

You are hiding in your bedroom the day of the exhumation. It feels like a betrayal that you disturb your father’s rest. It’s stupid. You know it is. But you can’t shake the feeling that you ruined his peace.

“Hey, everything is going to be alright. Ari said they were on their way to the coroner. The district attorney is on the case. We are going to prove Dot is behind your father’s death.” Bucky tries to keep you up to date. “They got this.”

“You promise?” You sniffle and throw yourself at Bucky.

“I promise, baby doll. She won’t get away with this. Ari, Andy, and Jensen are on the case. I swear, they won’t stop until they can bring her down.”

It takes them four months and many sleepless nights to convict Dot of her crimes. You fall into Bucky’s arms, sobbing until there is no strength left in you.

For such a long time, you hated your father because he left everything to Dot. Now that you know she killed him to get his money, the house, and the company, you feel like the worst person ever.

“We got her, doll,” Bucky whispers. “You and your uncle will get the company back. And you’ll get the house and everything else.”

You cling to Bucky, feeling too weak to let go of him. “I hated him, Bucky. How could I hate him? She killed my father, and I hated him.”

“You didn’t know,” he softly whispers. “How about we get out of town for a while? The reporters are still outside of my house and won’t give up anytime soon.”

“Together?” You sniff and look up at Bucky.

“Together, baby doll,” he hums. “I told you, you’re mine, and I’ll never let you go again.”

[deansbeer]

until the end ・ TOM WELLING. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ library

୨୧ synopsis. you prepare to marry tom, facing nerves and excitement, while jensen helps him navigate his own wedding day jitters.

୨୧ warning(s). fluff | fem!reader | wedding anxiety | mild language | best friend!jensen | a heartfelt best man speech | light friendly banter | wedding games (?) | mentions of whiskey (but nothing too extreme) | no use of Y/N.

୨୧ kari notes. i had a dream the night before about him and i can't recall what even happened :( but all i do remember is just seeing his face, like the one in the photo <3 he's so cutesy !!!

୨୧ word count. 2.3k

tom sat in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrest as the distant hum of conversation filled the dressing room. he hadn't seen you all morning, and the absence of your presence weighed on him more than he cared to admit. the simple comfort of you—your scent, your voice, the warmth of your touch—was missing, leaving him restless.

his back ached from sitting too long, his body stiff after hours of preparations. the elegant suit he wore felt both like a privilege and a burden, the fabric pressing against him as he fidgeted, trying to find a comfortable position.

“jesus, man, you look like you're about to throw up."

tom turned his head to see jensen, his best man, standing in the doorway with a smirk. dressed in a sleek black suit, tie slightly loosened, jensen carried two glasses of whiskey—one of which he promptly handed to tom.

he took the glass but didn't drink, just stared at the amber liquid. "i don't feel like throwing up," he muttered, though the slight tremor in his hands betrayed him.

jensen raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink. "could've fooled me. you've been sitting in that chair looking like a lost puppy."

tom sighed, leaning back. "i haven't seen her all day. feels weird."

jensen chuckled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "that's because, for once in your life, you're not in control, dude. she's busy getting all done up while you sit here, looking pretty and trying not to panic."

"i'm not panicking,” tom argued, but jensen just gave him a knowing look.

"sure. and i don't have a supernatural convention next weekend."

tom rolled his eyes, finally taking a sip of the whiskey. the warmth spread through his chest, loosening some of the tension in his muscles. he savored the momentary relief, but it did little to quell the storm of emotions brewing inside him.

jensen sat down across from him, leaning forward, his expression turning serious. "look, man, i get it. this is huge. but you already won. you got the girl. you're just making it official now."

tom exhaled, rubbing his hands together. "that's the thing. what if i mess it up?"

jensen snorted. "dude, you've been with her for how long? you think one wedding is gonna change anything?"

tom hesitated, then shook his head. "no… i don't know. i just want it to be perfect."

jensen grinned. "it will be. because she loves you, dumbass."

tom huffed a small laugh, finally relaxing a little. jensen's unwavering confidence in him helped ease some of the knots in his stomach.

"now," jensen said, standing up and straightening his tie, "let's get you out there, before you start crying on me or something."

tom shot him a look. "i'm not gonna cry."

jensen smirked. "uh-huh. we'll see about that when she walks down the aisle."

tom shook his head, but deep down, he knew jensen was probably right. the thought of seeing you in your wedding dress made his heart race, a mix of excitement and trepidation swirling within him.

the morning had been a blur of soft laughter, gentle touches, and the rustling of silk and lace. you were surrounded by your bridesmaids, each one fluttering around you like butterflies, adjusting your hair, perfecting your makeup, and making sure everything was flawless. despite the whirlwind of preparations, your mind was solely on tom.

you hadn't seen him all morning, and it felt strange not to have him there beside you. he was your anchor, your home, your safe place. the anticipation of standing before him and exchanging vows sent shivers down your spine.

a soft knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts.

"come in," you called, your heart racing with excitement.

the door cracked open, and to your surprise, jensen peeked his head in. "hope i'm not breaking any ancient wedding traditions by showing up," he said, stepping inside. "but i come bearing a peace offering."

you laughed as he held up a letter—tom’s handwriting scrawled across the front.

"he made me deliver it," jensen explained, handing it to you. "said he 'needed' to talk to you, but, you know, rules and all."

your heart clenched as you carefully unfolded the note, your breath hitching in your throat.

baby… i know i'm not supposed to see you yet, but i needed to tell you this before you walk down the aisle. i love you. i've loved you from the moment i met you, and i will love you for the rest of my life. no matter what happens today, tomorrow, or fifty years from now—you are my always. see you soon, my love.

you pressed the letter to your chest, blinking back tears. the words resonated deep within you, filling you with warmth and affection.

jensen watched you with an amused expression. "yep. he's gonna cry."

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "no, he is not."

"wanna bet?" he grinned. "i'll put fifty bucks on it right now. he's already a mess."

you chuckled, but deep down, you knew jensen was probably right. the thought of tom's reaction when he saw you was enough to make your heart swell.

as the minutes ticked by, the atmosphere shifted. the music started, a soft melody filling the air, and the moment you had been waiting for had arrived.

everyone rose from their seats.

and tom—oh, tom—he went completely still.

jensen, standing beside him at the altar, smirked as he heard the sharp intake of breath from his best friend.

"told you," jensen whispered, barely containing his amusement.

tom ignored him. because there you were.

as you walked slowly down the aisle, tom’s throat tightened, his vision blurring slightly. you were breathtaking. ethereal. his.

the fabric of your dress flowed around you like a dream, the intricate details catching the light and shimmering with every step. the world around you faded as you locked eyes with tom, his expression a mixture of awe and vulnerability.

jensen discreetly reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, nudging tom with his elbow. "you good, dude?"

tom exhaled shakily, eyes never leaving you. "yeah."

jensen smirked. "told you you'd cry."

as you reached the altar, the officiant began the ceremony, but all tom could focus on was you. the way your hair fell gracefully over your shoulders, the glimmer of happiness in your eyes, the soft smile playing on your lips—it was everything he had ever dreamed of and more.

i can't believe this is happening, he thought, his heart racing. the officiant’s words were mere background noise as he absorbed the moment, the reality of marrying you sinking in with every heartbeat.

after a few heartfelt words, it was time for the vows. you turned to him, your eyes sparkling with love as you spoke from the heart.

"tom," you began, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "from the moment i met you, i knew you were special. you've been my best friend, my confidant, and my rock. our relationship has blossomed into something beautiful, and i can't imagine my life without you. today, i vow to always stand by your side, no matter what life throws our way."

he felt the tears prick at his eyes, his heart swelling with every word. you continued, your voice unwavering, "i promise to be your support, your cheerleader, and your partner-in-crime. i promise to laugh with you, cry with you, and share every moment of joy and heartache. you are my best friend, my lover, and my soulmate."

with each vow you made, tom felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders. he was home.

when it was his turn, he took a deep breath, his voice thick with emotion. "(___) you are my everything. i've loved you from the moment we met, and i will love you for the rest of my life. you are my anchor, my light in the dark, and i promise to cherish you always."

the officiant smiled, clearly moved by the sincerity of your vows. the guests watched in rapt attention, and tom could feel the weight of their love and support surrounding you both.

"now, by the power vested in me, i pronounce you husband and wife," the officiant declared. "you may now kiss the bride."

tom stepped forward, his heart racing as he cupped your face in his hands. as your lips met, the world melted away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. the kiss was soft at first, an exploration filled with love and promise, before deepening into something more passionate.

after you pulled away, the applause erupted around you, a symphony of joy ringing in your ears. tom couldn't help but smile, the sight of you radiant in your wedding dress filling him with a sense of completeness.

the reception was a whirlwind of laughter and celebration. glasses clinked, music filled the air, and everyone was on their feet, dancing and reveling in the happiness that surrounded you both.

jensen stood up, tapping his glass with a fork, commanding attention. "alright, alright, listen up, people. i've got some words to say about this big guy right here."

tom groaned, burying his face in his hands. "oh, god."

jensen grinned, the mischievous glint in his eye impossible to miss. "relax, man. i'll keep it PG-13… mostly." he cleared his throat dramatically, the room quieting down in anticipation. "i've known tom for a long time now. and let me tell you, this dude? he's a legend. he's superman, for crying out loud. but today? today, he's just a guy who got incredibly, ridiculously lucky."

the crowd erupted in laughter, and tom shook his head with a chuckle, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pride.

jensen turned to you, his tone shifting to sincerity. "seriously, i don't know how you put up with him, but i'm glad you do. because i've never seen him happier than when he's with you. and if there's anyone who deserves a lifetime of happiness, it's him."

tom swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as emotion welled up. jensen's words struck a chord, and he felt the heat of tears pooling in his eyes.

"so let's raise our glasses," jensen continued, raising his glass of chardonnay. "to tom and his beautiful wife. may your love be as epic as smallville, as unbreakable as superman himself, and as legendary as this wedding."

"cheers!" the crowd erupted, raising their glasses with enthusiasm.

tom, now definitely blinking back tears, turned to you with a soft smile. "i love you," he whispered, leaning in close, his voice barely audible over the cheers.

"i love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with joy.

you both shared another kiss, the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you wrapped in your love. the evening unfolded like a beautiful dream, filled with dancing, laughter, and the warmth of family and friends celebrating your union.

tom pulled you close during the first dance, his arms securely around your waist as you swayed to the music. the world outside faded away, and all that mattered was this moment—the two of you, together, forever.

"i can't believe we're actually married," you said, gazing up at him, your heart racing.

"believe it," he replied, his voice low and filled with emotion. "you're mine now, and i'm never letting go."

the words hung in the air, a promise that resonated deep within you. you moved together, the rhythm of the music matched the heartbeat of your love, each beat echoing the journey you had taken to get to this moment.

as the night wore on, laughter echoed around the room. friends and family shared stories, memories, and heartfelt toasts, each one a testament to the love you and tom had cultivated over the years. the atmosphere was electric, a perfect blend of joy and celebration that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

jensen, ever the entertainer, took to the floor again, his antics bringing laughter and smiles from everyone. "alright, folks! next up, we have a little game for the newlyweds," he declared, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "let's see how well they really know each other!"

tom and you exchanged glances, amusement dancing in your eyes.

"bring it on," you said confidently, nudging tom playfully.

the game involved answering questions about each other, and as the rounds progressed, the room filled with laughter as you both revealed little quirks and secrets that made your relationship unique.

"okay, what's his favorite movie?" jensen asked, looking between you and tom.

"easy. mutiny on the bounty," you answered without hesitation.

tom grinned, nodding in approval. "and (___)'s is the craft," he replied, and the room filled with cheers.

the questions continued, each one drawing out laughter and teasing from the guests. but amidst the fun, tom felt a deep sense of gratitude swell within him.

when the night began to wound down, you found yourselves standing on the balcony, the soft glow of fairy lights surrounding you, the stars twinkling like diamonds in the night sky.

"can you believe we did it?" you asked, leaning against the railing, your heart full.

tom turned to you, his expression softening. "i can. and i wouldn't change a thing. this is exactly where i'm meant to be."

you smiled, warmth spreading through you. "i love you, tom. you make me so incredibly happy."

he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. "i love you too, baby. more than i can ever put into words. you're my everything."

as you stood together, the world around you faded into silence, leaving only the two of you in your perfect moment. the wedding had been a beautiful celebration, but it was the love you shared—strong, unwavering—that truly made it unforgettable.

you stared up at him, your heart brimming with joy, you knew this was just the beginning of your forever.

EXTRAS. @titsout4jackles @honeyryewhiskey @daylighted @st4rfckerz ⎯⎯ if you wanna be tagged in any tom or clark content, do let me know !!! i love pookie wookie sm :(