#oc: jensen

[nickernacker]

This was born out of a small amount of sadness and a LOT of silliness in the brain. And I like it a lot I think

[sacr1ficialang3l]

older!dean headcanons˚୨୧⋆｡

OLDER!DEAN WINCHESTER X YOUNGER!READER (read here)

WARNINGS: mentions of/implied smut (MDNI). age gap.

NOTES: He is back! My psych final is tomorrow and i am going insane, so this is shorter than usual. You have all been so sweet and supportive, and I just wanted to give you a little something as a thank you while I study. I love you all, thanks for the kind words. As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3

˚୨୧⋆｡ After months of resisting you and denying his feelings, he is the sweetest man ever when you two get together. He adores you, and he makes sure to show you. He spoils you rotten, lets you get away with almost anything, and he always needs to have a hand on you.

˚୨୧⋆｡ He is protective!!! Like, very protective. He always keeps an eye on you during hunts, and makes sure to kill any evil motherfucker before they can even think of putting their hands on you. And when you do get hurt, you think it pains him more than it does you. He patches you up with gentle touches he didn’t think his blood-stained hands were capable of. He looks at you with sad, deep eyes as he kisses over the wound, and then he doesn’t even let you get up from bed, even if the injury is as tiny as a paper cut. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ After every case, he loves, or more like needs to cradle you against his chest and hold you close. He wraps his huge arms around you and presses you to his side, or on top of him, and he just buries his face on your hair and breathes in. He tells you it is to calm you down after hunts, to make you feel safe. But you think it is more about him. Like he needs to remind himself that you’re okay. That you’re there next to him, and that you’re not going anywhere. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ You love to annoy him, it is your favorite hobby. Play with his hair while he and Sam research in the library, brushing it right in front of his eyes while he tries to read. You love to sit in a barstool in the garage while he works on Baby and talk his ear off when he has no way to escape (not that he would). You force him to watch rom-coms and chick-flicks that he pretends to hate, but you catch him smiling to himself a few times. You poke him, and bite him, and jump on him all the time, and he wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

˚୨୧⋆｡ You have a habit of sinking your teeth into his biceps any chance you get. There are always teeth marks on his flesh that he wears with pride. (There are always hickies on your thighs and collarbones to match, of course.)

˚୨୧⋆｡ He claims not to be the jealous type. “I'm too old for things like that, sweetheart.” But you knew he was. He didn’t mind when people stared at you when you walked into a bar or around a small town, always that his arm was around your shoulders or your hand was on his. He is proud that such a pretty girl chose him. But the moment some frat boy tries to approach you at a bar when you are alone, he feels his blood boil. He watches from far away for a few seconds, trying to keep his cool, but he loses it when the guy decides to brush your hair behind your ear. He quickly walks across the bar until he is right behind you, pulling you against his chest and glaring at the dude over the top of your head. The boy is gone in less than a second.

˚୨୧⋆｡ You try to show your love for him in every way you can. Dean was confident and strong, but it sometimes felt like he doubted your feelings for him, like his brain was trying to convince him that you deserved better and that you would get tired of being with some old guy eventually. So, you shower him in love. You learn how to bake pies just for him, making him a new one every week. You wash his hair in the shower, massaging his scalp to help him relax. You get him naked in bed and go on a journey of kissing every scar you can find. You press your lips over the small ones, run your tongue over the long and raised ones. And of course you make sure to tell him how much you love him. You murmur soft i love you’s against his lips. You remind him every day of how beautiful he is, how good he is. You whisper in his ear about how hot he is, how he makes you lose your mind and how no one could ever compare to him.

˚୨୧⋆｡ Dean liked being rough with you in bed. He loved manhandling you, leaving purple fingertips marks on your hips, pulling your hair. He was careful at first, too scared to hurt you. But you wanted him to, you begged him to make it hurt. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ Because you loved it when it hurt a little. When he sank his teeth into the flesh of your thighs, when your knees ended up bruised from kneeling on the floor for too long, when you could still feel him days after. You love the marks that he leaves, a living reminder of his touch on your body. It made you feel complete, it made you feel his.

˚୨୧⋆｡ Dean tried to go slow with you at first, thinking that you might be too inexperienced for everything he wanted to do to you. But he didn’t know that you were just as much or even freakier than him. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ Your favorite thing to do was, when Dean and you were alone in the Impala for a long drive, to rest your head in his lap. You lay across the front seat casually, looking up at him with innocent eyes when he sends you a warning look. You start by “accidentally” rubbing your cheek against his crotch, loving the way the scratchy fabric of his jeans felt against your skin. You would tease him until he was hard and his breath was ragged, and then you would take him in your mouth. You order him to keep driving as you suck him off slowly. You drag it out, edge him until he is desperate and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. And when he finally comes, you swallow it all like a good girl, moaning in satisfaction, enjoying the way his cum coats your tongue. It makes him groan every time, nostrils flared with the need to fuck you. Sometimes you keep going, keep suckling on him until he is whining in oversensitivity and has to pull you away by your hair.

˚୨୧⋆｡ In return, Dean gives you pleasure every time he can. He can eat your pussy for hours on end, in the kitchen counter, or the Impala, or in a lonely classroom when you have to infiltrate a school for a case. He will fuck you on his bed, or the floor, or against the wall. He just loves to make his girl feel good, see you shaking with pleasure, begging him to stop and to keep going at the same time. He loves when you tell him that he’s the best you have ever had, and the best you will have. He loves when you scream his name and your thighs close around his head because of the overwhelming sensations. He loves to make you cry with pleasure. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ But after, he is the sweetest guy ever. He takes aftercare very seriously, murmuring reassuring words against your skin and softly kissing every bruise and bite mark. He reminds you of how much he loves you, of how much you matter to him. 

“I don’t know what I would do without you, baby. You keep me sane.”

“You’re such a good girl, my beautiful princess.”

“I will take care of you forever. Nothing will ever hurt you while I'm here.”

“I love you.”

NOTES: wish me luck on my final! I will be back after I'm finally free.

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

[little-wicked10]

Smell so Sweet🍑

Summary: Soldier Boy’s powers make it easy for him to read people’s physical reactions. He happens to pick up on the fact that every time she’s around Butcher and himself, she gets REALLY horny.

Warnings: PORN WITH NO PLOT🥵🔞, cursing, dirty talk, degrading, daddy kink, subspace, drug use, multiple orgasms, anal, creampies (what kind? Yes)

Notes: reader is called Peach because I’m uncreative like that🤷‍♀️ Thanks for voting for this on my poll!

//

Learning to control his supe powers and senses had taken Soldier Boy years. They were long, grueling, painful few years, but the payoff was a harmony he hadn’t known until his powers worked with him instead of against. If he concentrated hard enough, he could pin point everyone down to their sound and scent.

The cum guzzler, Hughie, had a heart beat like a rabbit most of the time and smelled of some kind of obnoxious sprayed on odor mixed with something that reminded him of a bologna sandwich. Weak.

Butcher’s heart rate was all over the place, slow one minute and erratic and panicked the next. Past the cigarette and alcohol smell, the Brit had a strong manly scent that he could only compare to himself. It had a different musk than his own, but it gave off the same feeling. Strong.

Then there was her.

She drove him crazy. He chased after the smell of her sweet perfume mixed with her naturally sweet smelling skin. She smelled like goddamn peaches and cream. So sweet.

He could pick up on hormone changes in women the easiest for some odd reason, and hers were his favorite to fill his senses with. So, it was easy to discover her little secret.

//

The first time Soldier Boy picked up on it was the day he met her. She stood to Butcher’s right, and he could already smell her attraction to the cockney asshole. It wasn’t as strong as he thought it be, probably because she had learned to control it around him, but it suddenly got stronger when her eyes landed on him. Sharp eyes saw her pupils dilate and her rapid heart beat pounded in his ears.

“And uh…who’s the broad?” Soldier Boy smirked at her.

“She’s a valuable memba’ of the team, mate,” Butcher placed a hand on the small of her back, her hormones went wild at the contact, “She’ll be lookin’ after ya while Hughie and I track down the last few membas of Payback for ya.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, okay?” he snapped his eyes to Butcher, “I think I know how to fuckin’ lay low.”

“Well, guv, she knows her way ‘round ‘ere and can get ya whateva’ ya need,” Butcher pointed out, “She’ll help ya out, keep ya company while the lad and I chase some of these leads.”

Solider Boy turned his smirk back to her, “You alright with this, sweetheart? I can be quite a handful.”

He sensed her answer before she told him, “Yeah, I’m fine with this. Rather hang out here than watch Hughie’s teleporting junk.”

//

“Ya know she wants to fuck you, right?” Soldier Boy casually mentioned to Butcher one night.

Butcher chuckled, “Yeah. I seen those fuck me eyes she tries ‘idin’.”

“Bet with that shit you’re shootin’ up, you can smell what I smell,” Soldier Boy quirked his eyebrows up with a devious smirk.

“Fuuuuck she smells sweet, don’ she?” Butcher groaned, “You eva’ ‘eard ‘er late at night’? Ugh. W’at I wouldn’ give ta see those wet dreams.”

The two sat outside smoking on the motel balcony. Soldier Boy inhaled sharply before passing it, “You ever smell her when we’re both in the room?”

The Brit began to chuckle as he took the burning joint, “Picked up on that righ’ quick.”

A groan left the other man, “Smells like the ripest fuckin’ peach you’ll ever fuckin’ taste.”

The two sat in silence as the same idea passed through their minds.

//

She was curled up on the motel couch when Butcher returned without Hughie. Even through the line of bennies he’d just snorted, Ben’s nose filled with the smell of peaches as her two favorite people were in the same room. Butcher glanced over at the supe, inhaling deeply before disguising it as a sigh.

“Hey Peach,” he called.

She perked up at the nickname and looked over at him. It was a mystery to her why she’d been bestowed the name, but she didn’t really look too much into it.

“Hand me that bottle o’ whiskey. I’m out over here,” Ben commanded.

She rolled her eyes before sarcastically saying, “Oh yes sir! Need anything else?”

Both men felt her reply go straight to their dicks. From the motel table, they watched her grab the full bottle from the coffee table and walk towards them. If she paid a lick of attention, she’d have noticed the way they eyed her head to toe. “Sit with us, love. I could use the comp’ny,” Butcher offered as he kicked one of the chairs out. She sat down, watching as Ben crushed more pills with the hilt of his Bowie knife.

“Soldier Boy ‘ere givin’ ya any trouble?” Butcher asked sternly.

“When he’s not bossing me around, he’s not too bad,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, “I’d have a bigger problem if he wasn’t sharing his weed.”

Ben chuckled as he used his blade to make little lines, “Thought pretty girls like you liked bein’ told what to do?”

They noticed her cheeks flush a bit and smelled her hormones skyrocket. Butcher started bouncing his leg impatiently the deeper her scent filled his mind like a fog.

“Experience says they sho’ do,” Butcher chuckled.

She picked up a joint and lighter off the table, “Only by the ones I call daddy.”

Butcher practically barked when he laughed, “Well, well, well. Dirty lil’ bird you are.”

She lit the joint and took a deep drag, both men watching her chest rise and fall. Ben waited until she exhaled the smoke from her pretty lips before speaking again, “Dirty girls and clean lines, that’s my motto. If you think I can snort, you should see me eat.”

He smirked at the blush that seemed to be there permanently whenever they were around.

“Ain’t that just the cutest lil’ blush ya ever did see,” Butcher teased with a smirk playing at his lips.

It was then that Ben decided to reveal the elephant in the room, “Ya know we can smell how turned on we make you, right?”

Both were amused as she choked while exhaling.

“C’mon, Peach. You really think I wouldn’t pick up on it? I’m fuckin’ Solider Boy,” Ben chuckled as he set his knife on the table, “And, Butcher’s been shootin’ up enough of that green shit to know what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Let me tell ya, Peach,” the way the word rolled off his tongue with his thick accent should have been wrong, “That’s exactly w’at ya smell like. Peaches and fuckin’ cream with a lil’ bit of sugar sprinkled ova’ the top. Me mouth starts waterin’ an’ me bollocks achin’ every time I step through that door and smell w’at’s permeating from between them luscious thighs.”

She subconsciously crossed her legs, feeling their eyes dart to the action.

“I bet she tastes just as sweet,” Ben leaned back in his chair, “What ya wanna bet, Butcher?”

The man was leisurely stretched out in his chair as his dark stare never left her body, “No doubt, guv. Ya don’ smell like that and not taste just as sweet. But…betta’ to find out. Care if I ‘ave the first go?”

“Be my guest,” Ben quickly replied.

The fact that they were talking about her in front of her as if she wasn’t there was a huge turn on. Like she was too dumb to join their conversation about tasting her cunt. Butcher suddenly slid off his chair to his knees, crawling towards her to kneel before her crossed legs. His rough hands started at her ankles before delicately traveling up her calf, over her knees, hooking his hands in the crease of her thighs and yanking them open. A gasp fell from her lips as her legs were spread and Butcher made his bulky self at home, large hands clasping around her hips with a lazy smirk on his face.

“Gooood-damnit! That’s potent shit,” Ben growled, throwing his head back.

“Lift ya hips, love. Daddy’s dyin’ of thirst. Ain’t that a cryin’ shame?” he asked her as he dug his fingers into the waist band of her shorts.

She held herself up, biting her lip and nodding as her face burned.

Butcher couldn’t help his chuckle when he shimmied her shorts and panties off, “An’ the only thing that can quench this mighty thirst of mine is drippin’ out of yer pretty cunt.”

Breathing suddenly became hard when his cocky smile lowered between her legs. One hand gripped the edge of the wooden chair while the other gripped his black hair. The position was awkward until her legs were thrown over his broad shoulders, and he yanked her closer to the edge of the chair. There was no warning as Butcher dove in. A strangled moan left her throat as his whole mouth devoured her from clit to slit, chasing every drop of her sweet honey to places that hadn’t been explored.

She cried out loud when he suddenly let loose a deep growl that vibrated against her folds, strong arms wrapping tighter around her thighs to shove his face deeper. He could fucking drown like this. They sounded like two animals. She whimpered and whined in a high pitch, pornographic manner. Butcher grunted and groaned like a rutting beast. Ben sat back with a joint in his mouth and hand on his dick. Her scent filled the room now.

Ben admired the way her little toes curled when Butcher made her cum, “Butcher’s a greedy son of a bitch, but, what else is new?”

Both her hands were dug deep into his hair now as her hips attempted to roll towards his mouth. Ben suddenly stood up, exhaling smoke as he strode towards the two. He stood next to her, his hips level with her head, holding out the joint towards her ‘o’ shaped mouth.

“Wrap your lips around it. Think you deserve a lil’ puff after that last one,” the supe encouraged.

Her eyes popped open and stared into mischievous green ones before flicking down to his hand. With a shaky breath, she wrapped her lips around it and inhaled.

“There ya go, doll. Nice long drag. Don’t make her choke yet, Butcher,” Ben complimented.

The supe pulled the joint from her lips with a satisfied smirk as he watched her hold the smoke in her lungs before exhaling. The exhale turned into a broken whine as Butcher built her up to another orgasm.

“You wanna a go, mate?” Butcher reluctantly pulled away as she cried in protest.

“Fuck yeah, I do. Move over,” Ben shoved the other man’s shoulder.

The Brit backed away and stood up as Ben made room for himself. Just like the previous man between her legs, no time was wasted. No one could ever accuse these two men of being inefficient. Butcher took a seat at the table again as Ben had his fill. The second his tongue met her folds, he growled and shook his head.

“Why not give ‘er lil’ arsehole a tickle?” Butcher smirk could only be described as cheeky, “Tell Soldier Boy how much you liked havin’ yer arsehole tongue fucked.”

A desperate cry left her lips, “I-I loved it!”

“Try again,” Ben slapped her pussy making her squeal.

“Butcher’s tongue in my ass felt so, so good!” she cried, “I was about to cum again when he took it out.”

Ben cooed, “See, Butcher, if you would just keep your damn mouth shut and do the job, you’d have a higher success rate.”

“Oi, cut the supe shite. I was nice enough to offa’ up a taste before she started pushin’ me head away. That lil’ cunt was flutterin’ away when me tongue was shoved up ‘er arse, made the job much easier for ya,” Butcher barked back.

“Oh my god! Please! Someone put me out of my fuckin’ misery!” her desperate whine interrupted.

Ben slapped her pussy harder, “Sassy lil’ thing.”

“Ya got no idea, mate,” Butcher took a hit.

Ben brought his mouth down to suck harshly at her clit. Two of his thick fingers shoved inside of her making her scream. Butcher admired her toes curling in the air and her fingers desperately grasping Ben’s brown hair.

“O-oh, Ben!” she whimpered as his finger teased against her other hole.

Ben growled as he roughly held her still, dipping his fingers into her cunt then dragging the wetness down to play with that forbidden little entrance. It was when he shoved his tongue inside her weeping cunt and nudged the tip of his finger into her ass that she let out a strangled moan, cunt clenching and gushing.

Butcher inhaled deeply with a growl, “Fuckin’ ‘ell! Toss ‘er on the bed.”

The supe sat up, wiping his mouth and beard before jerking her up like she weighed nothing. Both men strode towards the bed before she was thrown half hazardously onto it. Ben was quick to yank her shirt off as Butcher started unbuttoning his own. Her eyes looked up at them like a powerless doe at the mercy of the wolves. Her body already hummed from her first two orgasms, but she craved more. She rubbed her thighs together as her cunt throbbed uncontrollably.

Ben grabbed one of her ankles to throw her legs open, “That’s the last time I wanna see those legs closed.”

She felt a gush of arousal at his command, “Y-yes sir.”

“Gonna need ya to stay niiiice an’ spread out for us, Peach,” Butcher had the audacity to wink as he jerked her other leg open, “Might ‘ave a ‘ard time gettin’ her to keep’em closed after this.”

Her blush would have been from embarrassment if they hadn’t already dove head first into her cunt and asshole. There were still sparks of insecurity that crossed her features as she lay with her legs spread wide open, but they’d fuck that right out of her. Butcher was the first to move, rounding the bed to sit behind her. With a grunt, he maneuvered her around to be on all fours.

“Give daddy a lil’ nosh while Soldier Boy opens up your pretty holes, yeah?” Butcher grinned as he gathered her hair in his hand.

She watched with wide eyes as Butcher made her watch him jerk his belt and fly open with a free hand. The bed dipped behind her as Ben roughly spread apart her ass. Her mouth watered at the size of Butcher’s thick length, straining against his hold to reach down and pleasure him. Butcher’s dark chuckle didn’t distract her from staring. When he brought her head down to wrap her lips around his tip, Ben shoved his fingers inside her cunt while circling over her asshole.

The back of Butcher’s head slammed against the headboard as the woman enthusiastically sucked him off, “Bloody…fuckin’ ‘ell! Like a goddamn hoova’.”

“I love a bitch that gets off on suckin’ dick,” Ben groaned.

The way the men laughed at her eagerness should have made her feel ashamed, or even mad, but it just turned her on even more. It made her push her hips back into Ben’s hands and her tongue stroke Butcher’s length with the need to keep them talking. Keep degrading her and using her until her body gave out. She whimpered when she heard and felt Ben roughly spit on her asshole before he inched a finger inside to the knuckle. The burn was foreign while pleasurable. Her body didn’t know whether to lean in or away from it.

Ben’s eyes were dark with lust as he enjoyed the sweet torture they were putting her through. It motivated him to be a little crueler in how he handled her. When her hips tried to pull away from him burying his finger more inside her, his other hand roughly left her cunt to hold her hip and keep her in place, “Nah, doll. No runnin’. Take it like a good lil’ trooper.”

If Butcher wasn’t getting his soul sucked out, he would have rolled his eyes at the supe. He looked down at her sucking his dick like it was the best tasting thing she’d had in her life. He loved desperate whores. He hadn’t realized how desperate she was until that Temp V shit got his senses heightened enough to hear a mouse queef. His eyes went wide when she suddenly pulled off of him and let her tongue lazily lick over his balls while her hand stroked his dick.

“A-ah shit,” Butcher shivered as she wrapped her lips around it, “You diabolical slut! Noshin’ on me fuckin’ bollocks!”

“Damn, she’s tight. I’ll stretch that out no problem,” Ben’s smirk was dark.

“Not before I do,” Butcher groaned as the sound of her sucking and slurping on him filled the room.

She suddenly pulled off of Butcher and glanced up at him, a shy but mischievous look in her eyes, “I want you both inside me. Please.”

Butcher suddenly leaned forward, holding her head closer to his face, “Louder, peach. Don’ fink Soldier Boy ‘ere ‘eard ya.”

She whined, but repeated, “I want you both inside me! Please!”

Both men chuckled, Ben spanking her made her cry out and jerk forward closer to Butcher’s face. A shaky gasp passed her lips when Ben pulled his finger from inside her, “Ya want us to just shove our dicks in there? Stretch you out ‘till you’re a cryin’ and snivelin’ slut?”

A whine left her throat, “Y-Yes! Ruin me!”

“Oof, ya hear that, mate? Don’ you worry, peach. You are neva’ gonna forget w’at we’re gonna do to ya,” Butcher’s breath smelled of weed as he chuckled in her face.

She squealed when Ben smacked her wet pussy before stepping away. Butcher pet her hair affectionately before ordering her to straddle him. She was so turned on she was trembling as she waited for him to kick his boots and jeans off. When he was finally naked like her, she crawled into the man’s lap, knees settling on either side of his hips. A moan slipped past her swollen lips when his callused hands pawed at the meat of her ass. Butcher looked down to watch her hips slide along his length, teasing them both. “Please! Please, daddy!” she babbled.

“That beggin’ is so pretty. Keep doin’ it,” Butcher slurred.

“Please, daddy! It hurts!”

Ben chuckled, “Where’s it hurt, baby? Gotta tell him, or he can’t fix it.”

Butcher held her hips still making her cry out. Her nails dug into his shoulders, “I-I need y-you inside! Aches inside, daddy.”

The Brit chuckled with a smirk as he urged her to hover over him, grasping his cock in hand to notch the tip to her entrance. His smirk turned to a smile as she struggled to sink down. “Aww, poor peach. Daddy too big for ya?” he teased.

She whimpered and squirmed to take more, “Need more. F-Fuck I….please!”

Ben’s strong hand on her shoulder pushed her down. Neither man could look away until she was fully sat in Butcher’s lap. He was careful not to grip her too hard, but holy shit was she tight! Butcher growled feeling her walls pulse around him. If he were a younger man with less self control, he would have busted right then. Her arms frantically wrapped around Butcher’s neck as she cried and whimpered. He nuzzled his beard and lips against her chest, sucking marks into the delicate skin of her breasts.

The air was knocked out of her when his hips thrust up into hers. Burly arms wrapped around her body before he started moving her body along his. “F-Fuckin’ ‘ell! That’s it!” Butcher groaned as he looked up at her. When he noticed a few tears wetting her cheeks, he gently kissed them away, “Too much for ya already, peach? Ol’ Soldier Boy hasn’t even ‘ad ‘is turn yet.” She frantically shook her head, and she heard Ben chuckle from the side of the bed. Suddenly, she was rolled onto her back with her legs wrapped around the man’s waist. Butcher sat up, grasping her hips in his large hands, before starting a brutal pace.

She moaned and gasped, clawing at his wrists and throwing her head back. Every thrust had her gushing around him, and he refused to relent until she was on the verge of falling apart. The coil kept tightening in her belly with every thrust against her sweet spot. A strangled cry came from her throat when his callused thumb strummed her clit causing it to snap. She gushed around Butcher’s cock, the man’s hips faltering to keep him from cumming with her. “Fu-uckin’ ‘ell, peach! Bring’a man to ‘is bloody fuckin’ knees, why don’ ya?” Butcher growled as he dug his blunt nails into the skin on her hips.

Ben suddenly huffed, “C’mon, I ain’t had a piece of ass this fine in decades.”

The other man rolled his eyes and panted as he slowly eased out of her quivering walls, “‘ow long ya gonna keep milkin’ that one, guv?”

She whined when Butcher was no longer inside her, but it didn’t take long for Ben to take his place. The supe pounced on her, throwing her shaking legs over his shoulders and sheathing his full length inside her. She screamed and grabbed onto the shitty headboard rails for dear life. He gave a dark chuckle as he started an unforgiving pace, “Hold on tight, baby. Let’s show Butch how a real supe fucks.”

Butcher rolled his eyes as he relit the forgotten joint. Cocky bastard. Honestly, they both were which explained why they butt heads. Ben fucked hard and powerful, slow at first but quickly picked up when he found the spot that made her gasp the loudest. Her body began to shake, the familiar sensation flooding her nerve endings. Her body instinctively tried to pull away from his harsh attack, but the bruising grip on her hips kept her in place. Ben laughed at her pathetic whining, “What I say about runnin’?”

“P-P-Please,” she whimpered pathetically, “Ca-Can’t!”

“Thought you wanted us to ruin you, honey?” the supe taunted as he snatched the joint from Butcher at the side of the bed, “You’re so, so close. Think I’ll make ya squirt more than Billy Boy?”

Butcher growled, “Shoulda kept ya in the bloomin’ freezer.”

“Can’t handle a lil’ competition, Butch?” Ben chuckled as he puffed and fucked.

It was the sudden gushing around his cock that brought his attention back to the fucked out woman. “Oh shit!” he groaned as he looked down to see her little cunt leaking and struggling to push him out. She lightly convulsed, euphoria having wracked her body like a shock of lightening. The sounds of the men both taunting and praising her were muffled. She’d never been fucked like this before. Used like a battle ground between two alphas trying to out do the other. The thought of both of them fighting at the same time made her heavy body squirm.

“Wonda’ w’at she’s finkin’ to get her to wigglin’?” Butcher slurred.

“Same thing I’m thinkin’ about,” Ben said as he swiftly slid out of her sensitive walls.

In her haze, she felt her body being moved, repositioned until she lay on her stomach over a strong, broad body. She lifted her head to look into Butcher’s dark eyes. His callused hands ran along her back, sides, and hips, enjoying the way her body was melted against his. The man quirked a brow when he noticed her staring intensely at his lips. How could he refuse the earnest and pleading look in her eyes? He thread his fingers through her hair and brought her lips to his. She moaned into his dominant kiss, thighs tightening around his waist and arms wrapping around his neck. A satisfied sound left her throat when Butcher effortlessly slipped into her abused cunt again. His hips started a lazy rhythm as their lips and tongues danced together.

The bed dipped at the bottom as a bottle popping open cut through the wet sounds. A small squeak stuck in her throat when the feeling of cool lube dripped against her asshole. Her previous four orgasms made it impossible for her to tense up beyond holding on to Butcher. “Nice n’ easy, peach. There’s a good girl,” Butcher mumbled into her lips as Ben angled her hips up more. A shiver rolled down her spine when she felt him slap his still hard cock against her asshole.

She cried out when he pushed just the tip inside, the pain of the stretch shocking. Ben held one ass cheek in hand while his other hand ran up her spine. “I’m just gonna slip right in, peaches,” Ben groaned as he inched forward, “Stay still. Let me in. Theeere we go.”

Full. That was how to describe how it felt. Full and overwhelming. She swore she could feel them in her throat. A strangled moan burst from her throat before turning into a cry. Her forehead pressed into Butcher’s neck as her body processed the new feeling. The man behind her leant over and sunk his teeth into her shoulder as his hips slowly drew back then pushed forward. Each stroke elicited a whine from her lips, but she didn’t tense, she didn’t wiggle away, her body and mind were too fucked out to allow her to try and escape. She wanted this. She needed this. She needed them to ruin her.

Butcher picked up on her comfort and began to work in tandem with the other man. When one thrust pushed in, the other pulled out, creating an insane back and forth rhythm. She could feel every vein and ridge rubbing against her walls. Her whimpers turned into mewls, body writhing like a cat in heat.

Butcher inhaled deeply with a satisfied moan, “All I’m gonna be cravin’ is a taste of peaches and cream when I’m around ya, love.”

“It’s my new favorite flavor,” Ben grunted before licking and biting his bottom lip, concentration etched into his brow.

She couldn’t hold back the pathetic sounds she made when their hips started thrusting faster and harder, clit being stimulated against Butcher’s pelvis. Her whole body was a live wire, mind melted and only able to comprehend the way they fucked her beyond her limit. A growl rumbled between the two men when she pushed her hips back against them. “She’s not even thinkin’! Look at that! Pushin’ her hips back to get those dicks deeper,” Ben slapped her ass.

“Keep makin’ ya self feel good, peach. That slutty cunt’s flutterin’ away. She barely wants to let me go,” Butcher taunted.

Tears spilled down her cheeks and nails dug into the tanned and scarred skin below her. She babbled and moaned, pleasing and praising them for all the pleasure and pain they were giving her. “Pathetic slut. Ya want it so bad? Then do it,” Ben growled.

She screamed when they roughly bottomed out over and over again until it all finally exploded. Her vision went white, air escaping her lungs, and shivers flowing through her body. She tensed so hard around them, it was nearly impossible to move. Breath rushed back into her lungs feeling Butcher and Ben cumming inside her. It was a mix of growls, grunts, and sobs as the intense high passed through all of them. “Christ ON A CROSS!” Ben bit out. Whatever British slang Butcher grumbled out was incoherent through his gravelly, sex-filled voice. She was hyper aware of their cum leaking out of her around their dicks, the feeling wouldn’t soon be forgotten. Nothing about what they did to her would leave her memory for as long as she lived.

“Good girl, good girl, peach,” Butcher panted as he pet her sweaty hair, “J-Just…Let’s just stay like this.”

She pressed a cheek to his pec and nodded.

Ben blinked and shook his head, “Whoo! Haven’t cum like that in 40 years! I need weed.”

The supe slowly pulled himself from her abused hole, smirking at her little whimpers. A cool feeling swept across her back as he got off the bed and shuffled over to the kitchen table. Her mind floated in and out of consciousness. She lost the battle to be present in reality when big arms wrapped around her and murmured little sweet nothings. The smell of marijuana smoke mixed with the smell of sex in the air. The last thing she remembers before slipping into darkness was listening to the two men start to bicker.

[rositaslabyrinth]

Warrior down - soldier boy

Soldier boy x fem!reader

Soldier Boy never planned to let anyone in, but with you, it doesn’t feel like losing.

Content warnings : smut, sub!solder boy, praise kink, power play, bratty sub soldier boy, soft dominance, soldier boy smut!!!

Word count ; 1,144

Minors please do not interact !!

The first time you ever saw Soldier Boy flinch, it wasn’t in battle.

No, it was after. Back in your safe house, post-mission, blood wiped clean but tension still crackling like static in the air. He stood near the window, arms crossed, jaw ticking as he stared out into the dark.

“You gonna keep pacing or come to bed?” you asked casually, stripping out of your tac vest and tossing it to the floor.

He didn’t answer. Just breathed heavier through his nose and clenched his fists tighter. Something about tonight had gotten to him—but he’d rather bite his own tongue off than admit it.

You came up behind him slow, hands soft on his back.

“Ben,” you said, voice low and warm.

“I’m fine,” he barked immediately, like a reflex. “It was nothing. Guy was just running his mouth.”

“That guy tried to blow your head off with a grenade launcher.”

“Didn’t even leave a mark.”

You sighed, stepping around to face him. His shoulders were tense, chest heaving with something he couldn’t name. Rage. Guilt. Old bruises flaring back up in his memory. Whatever it was, it was eating him alive.

So you did the only thing that ever worked with him.

You smiled. Soft, patient. And reached for the hem of your shirt.

He finally looked at you.

And God, the way he looked at you. Like he hated how badly he wanted to give in.

Ten minutes later, he was flat on his back on the bed, propped up on his elbows, lip curled in a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You gonna ride me like you’re in charge now?” he taunted, watching as you straddled his lap. “Cute.”

“You’re the one flat on his back, soldier,” you replied, grinding against him slowly. “Looks like you like it.”

“Shut up.”

You leaned forward, fingers threading through his hair as you kissed the corner of his mouth, teasing.

“Make me.”

He growled—actually growled—and tried to flip you. You didn’t let him.

You pressed him back down, hips rolling against his in a way that made him choke on his breath.

“Ohh,” you cooed, mock-gentle. “Is that all it takes to shut you up?”

“Don’t get cocky,” he hissed, cheeks flushed. “I’m just—letting you—”

“Letting me?” you cut in, voice low and syrup-sweet. “You think this is letting me?”

You sank down on him in one slow, claiming motion, and that—that made him whimper. Low and broken, eyes squeezed shut like he could keep the sound in.

You leaned in closer, lips brushing his ear.

“Look at you,” you whispered. “Taking me so well. You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

His eyes flew open, and for a moment, he was silent—completely stunned, like the praise short-circuited something in his brain.

“I’m not—fuck—don’t call me that,” he muttered, but his hips bucked up helplessly beneath you, seeking more.

“Why not?” you teased, breath hot against his neck. “You love it.”

“I don’t—” he started, voice strangled.

“You do. You love being good for me. Being told you’re perfect. Wanted. Needed.”

You rocked your hips again, slow and deep, and he groaned—hands clenching in the sheets like he couldn’t decide whether to push you off or pull you closer.

“Still think you’re in control?” you whispered, kissing his jaw.

His only answer was another desperate, choked-off moan.

He was warm beneath you. Overheated, really—like his body didn’t know how to regulate anything when he wasn’t on the offensive. Muscles tight, thighs rigid under your knees, jaw clenched like he was still waiting for a command that never came.

You moved slowly. Purposefully. Letting the thick, aching slide of him fill you inch by inch until your hips were flush against his, the pressure so perfect it stole the air right out of both of your lungs.

He twitched beneath you, fingers digging into the mattress instead of your waist—like if he touched you, he might lose whatever fragile grip on control he still had left.

His cock throbbed inside you, heavy and thick, the stretch deep and pulsing. You felt every inch of him like a bruise being pressed from the inside out.

You rocked your hips once.

He gasped.

Not loud—he wouldn’t let himself be—but it was there. A sharp, guttural sound caught in his throat, and it was so raw, so unguarded, that your body clenched around him involuntarily.

You did it again, just to feel it—to watch him fight himself. His head tipped back against the pillow, brows drawn, chest rising in shallow bursts like he couldn’t decide whether this was heaven or hell.

You sat up slightly, palms flat on his chest, feeling the tension coiled in him. Every muscle was wound tight beneath your hands, like a soldier waiting for the next explosion. But his hips betrayed him—slow, shallow thrusts pushing up into you, helpless and hungry.

It was so much worse for him, you knew. The stillness. The softness. The way you took him in deep and didn’t let up. No harsh grip, no brutal pace. Just the slow drag of his cock inside your soaked cunt and the unbearable warmth of your body wrapped around him.

He was panting now.

One of his hands finally came up—hesitant, unsure—and gripped your hip, but it wasn’t dominance. It was desperation. Like he needed the anchor. Like he needed you.

You rolled your hips again, slower this time, and his abs jumped beneath your palm.

He was so loud in the field, so full of swagger and barked commands—but here, like this, pinned beneath you and fucked open with nothing but heat and patience, he was coming undone.

Your hand slid up his chest, past the thick plane of his pectorals, over the dark patch of hair between them, and rested lightly at his throat.

Not squeezing. Just claiming.

He whimpered. Actually whimpered.

The sound was wet and broken and ruined, and it went straight to your core.

You clenched around him again—tight and deliberate—and felt him stutter, his hips jerking helplessly as a groan clawed out of his chest. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against the corner of his jaw, and whispered the words you knew would wreck him.

“Such a good boy.”

His whole body spasmed under you.

The hand on your hip trembled.

And then, finally, he gave in.

Back arching, teeth gritted, his voice cracked as he came with a desperate, muffled grunt—hot release spilling into you in slow, throbbing pulses as his cock twitched inside your fluttering walls.

You didn’t move. Just held him there, buried deep, watching him come apart under your hands with flushed cheeks and trembling thighs and eyes squeezed shut in something dangerously close to surrender.

He was still panting when you kissed his temple and murmured, “That’s it… just like that.”

And this time, he didn’t argue.

Liz talks : I had an idea, idk how well it was executed LMAOO. But I guess this is my official application to be the sub!soldier boy writer?? Idk lmk🤭🤭

Tags : @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel , @sunnyteume , @deanswifeyy , @tinas111 , @kimxwinchester , @deansbbyx , @nymphet-quenn , @juicifeur , @sapphic-destiel

To be tagged in any other future works of mine please check out this post !!!

Any interaction is greatly appreciated <33

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆ MORNING COFFEE, DEAN WINCHESTER

summary. a morning in bed with Dean and coffee as company:)

⭑.ᐟI’ve had this in my drafts forever so it was about time I let it out of the vault. I love this, it’s a very cute one! Please interact and send requests if u have any<3

mention of sex but no smut!

word count. 900

supernatural masterlist

my full masterlist/support my work!

──────────୨ৎ──────────

Your eyes are still closed, but the warmth next to you makes you want to melt into it. You feel Dean stir, trying not to wake you, but he feels you sigh contently, which makes him aware that you already are. Dean’s arm is heavy on your waist, while he lays a small kiss on your shoulder.

‘Morning.’ His voice is hoarse, but his lips linger.

You turn away in his embrace to face him. You’re still half asleep, so your head finds itself into his chest, not wanting to wake up.

‘Morning, handsome.’ You say quietly, only for him to hear.

Dean lays another kiss on your forehead this time, his arms engulfing your figure.

‘Sleep well?’ Dean asks, which he seems to do every morning, because he needs to know that you’re okay. He needs to know that even in your sleep, he contents you.

‘Always. I always do when you’re here.’

‘Good thing I’m always here then.’ He smiles sleepily, still holding you.

You stir again, this time looking up at him.

‘You better not go anywhere Winchester.’ Your brows furrow as a warning, though a little smile dances on your lips.

‘I don’t plan on going anywhere, sweetheart.’ Dean doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he presses a kiss on your lips. You don’t want to let go- and Dean feels it, so he pulls you closer. His hand lays on the back on your neck, pulling you, while the other one lays on your waist at the top of his shirt you stole.

‘Hmm. Coffee first, I’m still half asleep.’ You laugh and break the kiss, while slapping his chest as a message, as to tell him ‘go get me my coffee.’

‘Alright. I got it. Coffee’s more important than me?’ He jokes.

‘Hotter too!’ Dean puts a hand over his heart, acting hurt. He knows you’re joking. Or so he thinks.

Dean gets out of bed, but before leaving the room, he makes sure to let his lips touch yours one more time. He knows he’ll get to kiss you again in a couple minutes- he knows he’ll get to kiss you a million times more- but this makes him feel like he has a good start of the day. The first thing that his lips touch- is yours.

Without that coffee, you feel like Dean is gone for hours. The minutes are ticking, and you pick out a book. You read- or at least try to. But your mind is full of just him. The way his lips felt, his hands, his arms. So you know that the minute that coffee hits the system, you’ll be all his, at his mercy.

Dean finally comes back with two cups. He sits in bed next to you, handing you your coffee.

‘Thanks darling you’re my savior.’ You kiss his cheek and go back to your book.

The moment the coffee hits your lips, it’s burning love. It’s hot- very hot. But it instantly resets you.

‘So, that coffee still hotter than me?’ Dean observes you waiting for an answer with his brows raised.

‘You know, I’m still debating that.’ You nod your head and take another sip, but Dean doesn’t accept that.

Dean lunges to you, taking you by surprise.

‘Stop! You’re gonna make me drop that everywhere!’ Your laugh echoes in the room, making Dean smile.

‘I’m not competing with damn coffee, ya’ hear me? It ain’t happening.’

‘Oh my god.’ You lay your coffee on the bedside table and hide your mouth with a hand, because he’s being ridiculous.

‘You’re insane.’ You finish.

‘I’ll show you insane.’ Dean hovers over you now, his legs on each side of your body.

Your giggles are enough to make him happy for a lifetime. You’re enough.

Dean doesn’t wait, his lips are on your jaw, on your neck, at the hem of the top of his shirt. His hands are on your waist, while he slowly gets it up to your chest.

You get the message and put your arms up so Dean can take your shirt off.

Then he looks at you with so much love. He looks at you like you’re the only good thing left in this world. Like he sees a thousand more mornings just like this, by your side, seeing your smile and hearing your laugh, getting to feel you.

‘You’re so damn beautiful.’ Dean tells you, feeling like a high school boy.

‘I’ve been told that a couple times.’ You try to joke, but your heart is racing. It doesn’t matter how many times this has happened already. He makes you feel like it’s always the first time. He makes you feel like the only girl in the world. The only person he’s ever gonna love, the only person he sees himself loving.

‘Shut up.’ Dean laughs at you and kisses you again. This time, he’s hungry. He’s hungry for you, for your touch. You kiss him back with just as much urgency. You find yourself lying down instead of sitting up, and Dean goes on to make you feel like that coffee is definitely not, hotter than him.

He might just be the hottest thing alive.

Dean’s hotter than lava.

Dean Winchester is hot.

And now you’re the one feeling like a high school girl.

Coffee doesn’t matter. Only Dean does.

[zepskies]

This One's For You

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader || Ben & daughter!OC (Lila)

Summary: Late one night, finding no other recourse, Ben sings to his infant daughter to help her sleep.

AN: Thanks to this request, this one’s set between Until Morning and Green in the BMD-verse.

Word Count: 1.2K

Song Inspo: "Hey There Delilah" by Plain White T's

Tags/Warnings: Grumpy Ben, established relationship, potential fluff overload.~

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

“Your daughter’s awake,” Ben grumbled into his pillow.

He didn’t need to have sensitive hearing to pick up on the infant’s whining in her crib.

“She’s only my daughter when she has a rough night.” You sighed and turned away from him on your side of the bed. You clutched at your pillow. “It’s your turn, pal.”

His eyes cracked open. He gave you a look of annoyance behind your back.

“I have to get up in three hours for work,” he said.

You didn’t seem to care. You were so tired, he already heard your deeper breaths in sleep. In fairness, you essentially hadn’t slept for three days now. Your daughter was a demanding little thing, with some powerful goddamn lungs.

When another insistent whine and a hiccupping cry reached his ears, Ben released a sound of frustration. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until the house was silent again, so after another beat, he finally peeled back the covers. Sliding out of bed, he padded out on bare feet down the hall to the nursery, wearing his usual pair of sweatpants.

He peered over the side of the crib and found Lila blinking up at him. Her tears clung to her lashes as she wriggled around in upset.

“What’s the matter now?” he asked, as if the baby could answer him.

He reached in with careful hands and picked her up, resting her on his chest. She sniffed and predictably latched onto his hair as she cried.

He checked her in various ways, but she didn’t smell like a full diaper (upon which, he would've handed her over to you). She seemed fine, which meant she was being finicky just for the hell of it.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Come on,” he said as he paced the room with her. “Quiet the fuck down already.”

Still, she wouldn’t stop crying. The whimpers were pitiful, but at least they weren’t ear-splitting wails this time. He just really needed her to stop so he could sleep, expeditiously.

After several minutes with no improvement, however, Ben sighed and dropped down into the rocking chair. He was coming to the end of his tether.

“All right, what’s it gonna take for you to relax?” he muttered. At this point, he wasn’t above bribery. Candy? Money? A new fucking car? Hell, he’d get her a fleet of Ferraris if it’d make her pipe down.

He held Lila in the crook of his arm and tried rocking back and forth in the chair. When that didn’t work, he tried humming a tune—something he’d heard on the radio that now wouldn’t get out of his damn head. The only reason he remembered it was because of his daughter’s name.

“Oh, it’s what you do to me, oh, it’s what you do to me,” he sang softly, deep and baritone, and a little coarse from sleep. (And possibly a little off-key.)

Lila seemed to ease up a little in response to his voice, blinking up at him with those pretty green eyes. Maybe that was the solution.

He cleared his throat in slight embarrassment. He looked in the doorway to make sure he was alone before he kept going with this.  

Okay, what’re the words to the goddamn song…

“H-Hey there, Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?” he started, a bit unsure. The baby blinked up at him, holding a little fist in her mouth. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks while she whimpered, but she looked like she was listening, at least. 

“I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty,” Ben continued. He couldn’t help softening a bit, looking down on her. He swept a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“Yes, you do. Time Square can’t shine as bright as you…I swear it’s true.”

Tomorrow he was scheduled for another mission out of New York, with Butcher and the rest of the team. Ben didn’t know how long he’d be gone.

“Hey there, Delilah, don't you worry about the distance,” he sang, “I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen…”

He wouldn’t admit it, but it was hard to leave you and Lila. She was still so small, and he didn’t like the thought of you two being alone, even if Frank was watching out for you.

But Ben had a job to do.

“Close your eyes,” he almost whispered. “Listen to my voice, it’s my disguise. I’m by your side…”

Lila had begun to settle down. He dried her tears as he continued to rock her, continued to hum the melody of the chorus. He couldn’t remember most of the song after that, but there were a few more lines he did have rolling around in his head.

“Hey there, Delilah, here’s to you,” he sang quietly. “This one’s for you…”

 Just then, Ben thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up and found you there, leaning in the doorway. You were holding up your cell phone.

His brows knitted together in a glare.

“What the fuck’re you doing?” he said, sharp and incredulous.

“Shhh,” you reminded him, pointing at the baby. He saw your smirk below the frame of the phone.

Ben looked down and found that Lila was finally asleep. Gritting his teeth, he got up slowly. You were filming him all the while, even with your hair wild in bedhead and your pajama top hanging off your shoulder. Apparently, embarrassing him was more important than sleep.

Ben gently set her back down in the crib. Once he made sure she was safe and settled in sleep, he turned and saw that you were still filming him. He hoped you captured the deathly look of warning on his face.

You bit your lip. Without either of you saying anything, you darted off down the hall. Ben stalked after you.

“Woman, you better get the fuck back here!” he hissed in a coarse whisper. You struggled to contain your laughter.

“You’ll have to catch me first, old man,” you teased.

He chased you around the house—almost knocking over a lamp in the process—until he got ahold of you, and more importantly your phone. He grabbed it out of your hand and held you flush against him with an ironclad arm around your waist.

Ben looked down at you both in satisfaction, and a warning not to try anything else. You laughed and took his bearded face in your hands. You pulled him down to you for a placating kiss.

"You do have a nice voice," you whispered near his lips.

"Shut it. You're on thin fucking ice with me," he groused, with a shake of his head when it only reignited your inane giggling.

His lips reluctantly tugging at a smile, he silenced you with a deeper kiss.

The joke was on him though. While you were running around, you already managed to drop that video into the group chat with Hughie, Annie, and all the rest of your friends at Supe Affairs.

Come the morning, Ben was about to have a very interesting day at the office. 

AN: 😂 Did you enjoy another dose of dad!Ben in the BMD-verse? 💚

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, Ben gets his revenge in Lesson Learned:

Summary: There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Lesson Learned

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @rizlowwritessortof @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

[hisonlyangel67]

𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑣𝑖𝑏𝑒 𝑖’𝑑 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙

in love with the idea of this the moment i saw it!! definitely had way too much fun doing this but here it is!!

inspired by @legalmente-loca

[gingerteafairy]

woman's duty (ben x reader)

just ben being ben on an average family meeting

tags n warnings: grumpy!ben, drabble, wife!reader x husband!ben, softdom!ben, mentions of sex, bad language, misogyny, breeding kink. masterlist

The sun was shining brightly over your parents' backyard, the scent of barbecue filling the air as laughter and chatter mingled. Ben, ever the charmer, was deep in conversation with your dad—bonding over beer, old sports games, and their mutual grumbles about how “things were better in the old days.” It wasn’t long before he wandered back inside, finding you in the kitchen where you were tossing a salad while your mother busily set the table.

“Hey, sugarplum, when’s lunch gonna be ready? I’m starving,” he grumbled, sliding up behind you and planting a quick kiss on your cheek. His arms wrapped lazily around your waist, pulling you against him.

You smirked, not missing a beat. “When you boys help us with something around here, lunch will magically be ready faster.”

He groaned dramatically, resting his chin on your shoulder. “C'mon, it’s a woman’s duty,” he drawled, biting your shoulder playfully, knowing full well it would get a rise out of you.

You spun around, crossing your arms and glaring up at him. “How does a misogynist like you end up with a wife and kids? Like, really?”

Ben grinned, undeterred, and tugged you back into his embrace despite your mock indignation. “Simple,” he said, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “We only date if it’s worth it. Can’t risk ending up with some ‘new age girl’ who doesn’t know the good'old values. A man raises his voice one decibel these days and—boom! Jail.”

“Good you never raised your voice with me. Maybe you're not that dominant cause you fear your wife, huh?” You teased, raising your eyebrow playfully as you poked his chest.

“Nah, I keep all my care for my lovely scary wife,” he joked, chaste kissing your lips. “But the whores out there? Fuck, they wanna get spanked, shouted and take advantage of the good men of this country. We get the women we know it's worth to raise a family”

“You’re awful,” you muttered, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. He was grumpy, but never did or said something to hurt you, he was a cutie pie around the woman who stole his heart.

“And yet, here I am—your awful husband,” he teased, leaning in to peck your cheek. “Lucky f'me, you’re too kind and forgiving to hold my totally hilarious misogynistic jokes against me.”

“You’re lucky for me having a weird unnatural submission kink,” you shot back, rolling your eyes, though the warmth in your voice betrayed you. “Got all warmed up with you grumpy saying take off your clothes, woman. I'm gonna use you to get more babies.”

“I love you for that, so obedient,” he murmured, grinning as he kissed you again, his grumpiness fading away in the glow of your laughter. “think I wanna make babies now. Down your panties f'me, please, hm?”

“oh, you do?” You tease, biting your lip when he presses his pelvis against you, with his cock already pulsating. Groaning when you wiggled your lower body playfully on his forming tent.

“You’ the death of me, sugar. You and your fucking pretty ass.” He whispered disereful, biting your jaw as he squeezed your ass in his big calloused hands.

Your mother, now halfway through setting the table, cleared her throat loudly. “If you two are done flirting, maybe Ben can help carry the food out?”

“See?” you said smugly, shooting him a triumphant look. “Guess it’s not just a ‘woman’s duty’ after all.”

Ben groaned but grabbed a tray anyway, muttering about how the food better taste amazing. You just laughed, knowing full well he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Unspoken Desires (Soldier Boy)

Summary: you've gotten caught in Soldier Boy's trap.

Warnings: Soldier boy being a douche?, entrapment, teasing, sexual tension?

WC: 435

A/N: While I've started started watching the boys, as i'm freshly still in season one, I think i've read enough and seen enough TikToks with Ben to know how his character is? If not, oh well, enjoy the angst anyway.

A/N #2: i added a few characters from the show to my tag list!

Read on Ao3!

--

The dim glow of the motel room cast long shadows across the walls, flickering with the neon light from the vacancy sign outside. The scent of whiskey and gunpowder clung to the air, mixing with something far more intoxicating—him.

Soldier Boy leaned against the dresser, his broad frame blocking half the mirror, his smirk lazy but sharp as a blade. You stood across the room, arms crossed, feigning indifference despite the rapid beat of your pulse.

"You keep pretending you don’t want this." His voice was low, rough like gravel, thick with amusement. He took a step forward, boots heavy against the scuffed floor. "But your body tells me otherwise."

Your breath hitched, barely perceptible, but he caught it. Of course he did. Soldier Boy was nothing if not perceptive when it came to desire—especially yours.

"I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about," you lied, tilting your chin up defiantly.

His grin widened, and in a blink, he closed the distance, caging you against the wall. The heat radiating off him was suffocating, intoxicating. You hated how easily he could unravel you, how his presence alone could turn your resolve to ash.

"Yeah?" His palm skimmed down your arm, slow, teasing. "Then why are you breathing like that, sweetheart?"

Damn him.

Your body betrayed you—chest rising and falling a little too fast, your fingers twitching like they wanted to grab onto him but were resisting. You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Soldier Boy chuckled, low and dark. "You’re always fighting it. Always running. But when are you gonna admit you like the chase?"

Your hands pushed against his chest—solid muscle, warm and unyielding. He didn’t budge, just looked down at you with those sharp green eyes, amusement flickering in their depths.

"You’re an asshole," you muttered.

"And you love it."

Before you could deny it, his lips brushed against your jaw, teasing, barely there, but enough to send a shiver racing down your spine. His fingers trailed up your side, slow and deliberate, leaving fire in their wake.

Your breath caught, hands fisting the fabric of his jacket. He chuckled against your skin, reveling in how easily he unraveled you.

"Say the word," he murmured. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

Silence stretched between you, heavy, crackling with unspoken tension. You hated him. You wanted him. And you both knew it.

You swallowed hard, fingers tightening in his jacket.

"Fuck you," you whispered.

His grin was pure sin. "That’s the plan, sweetheart."

And then he kissed you—hard, claiming, erasing any last shred of doubt.

And you let him.

[hangmanscoming]

The lack of edward rutledge fics is downright criminal!! 😭😭😭😔🙏🏻 writers, I urge you

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

RVB OC WEEK: DAY 2 RED TEAM BLUE TEAM

RED OR DEAD BABY!!!!

Ft. Matthews, Bitters and Jensen as the Red Team for Simulation Outpost "Chorus" (aka, role swap au-- chorusans as sim troopers, etc etc)

Don't mind the unsafe Warthog practices. It's fine, so long as Jensen doesn't drive

Ivia is technically supposed to be neutral, as a medic, but she's a Red at heart. A Red Med, if you would. Anton has been through and through Red from the start. In their 'canon', the Clovers do very much get honorary Red team status, simply bc they spend so much time with Sarge, Donut and Lopez on the Fed side of Chorus! But I wanted to play with a Red Team piece for the prompt so, silly swap setting it is

[nickernacker]

Teensy tiny little cowboys

[sacr1ficialang3l]

I can handle me a dangerous man˚୨୧⋆｡ (no really I can)

OLDER!DEAN WINCHESTER X YOUNGER!READER (based on this)

SUMMARY: Mid 40s Dean is trying really hard to resist the temptation that you are, but you're making it really hard. 3.7k

WARNINGS smut (MDNI). oral f receiving. age gap. implied penetration.

NOTES: He is here! I am not very used to writing smut, so I tried my best. Can you tell that dilfs telling stories about their life is so hot to me? anyway, this was incredibly self-indulgent. As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3

It’s another night of you walking around the bunker in a tiny, white lace dress. Long legs visible, looking even longer because of the slight heel of your boots. There is a necklace resting softly against the hollow of your throat, and your cheeks are rosy, lips glossy and full. Dean doesn’t know if it is makeup or if you simply look like that, but it is killing him. 

You started hunting with Dean and Sam a few months ago after they found you trying to kill a whole werewolf den by yourself. You were young –too young– and didn’t have anyone else. You were alone in this world. It was almost instinct that the brothers took you under their wing. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, just until you gained a little more experience and could go on your own, or until they find you a hunting partner. 

But you never really left. Weeks started going by, and you stayed by their side. 

At first, Dean was annoyed. He was in his 40s, he was too old to be babysitting. He had to admit you were a damn good hunter, but you were too impulsive. Too ready to jump to action, too ready to put yourself in the line of fire. That was his job. But Sam wanted to make sure you would be safe after you got hurt in the werewolf incident, so he let you into the backseat of his car and drove you to the bunker. 

As annoyed as he was, he had to admit, you were gorgeous. Soft hair, pouty lips, shiny eyes. You had a halo of light around you, an innocence to you that was captivating. Not to Dean, of course. He couldn’t. Because the longer the time he spent with you, the more you dug your way into his heart. Your soft giggles echoing through the otherwise gloomy bunker, the sweet smell of cookies when you decided to bake, the gentle touches of your hands as you patched him up after an especially awful hunt (he hadn’t been touched so gently in… ever, actually), the adorable smile you gave him after he begrudgingly compliments your improving hunting abilities. 

You were too naive, too pure, too… good. 

So Dean kept his distance. Or he tried.

Because what Dean didn’t know is that you were anything but naive. You knew from the moment your eyes met his, that you wanted him. He was tall, and broad, and his hair was long, falling a little over those piercing green eyes. He was rugged in the ways you liked, and soft in the ways that mattered. But it was the wrinkles around his eyes, the ones that reveal a history of laughter and playfulness even as he glared at you, that charmed you. 

So you flirted with him, insatiably. Directly and indirectly. You ran your hand up and down his arm as you cleaned his wounds, squeezing his bicep tentatively. You complimented him in the worst possible moments, when he was concentrated in research or had just finished off a monster. You ran your fingers across his shoulders when you walked past him and you took any opportunity to press yourself to his huge frame. But you also flirted in other ways, wearing your shortest mini-skirts around the bunker, accidentally bending over to pick up a book in the library when you knew he was watching. You sucked on a lollipop as he tried to explain a case to you, and you blinked your big eyes at him, eyelashes fluttering and lips parting. 

But every time, you got the same response. For a single moment, Dean would lean in. He would stare down at your lips, or he would take a step closer, hand hovering over your waist, and then he would look away. He would tell you he is too old for you, that he can’t take advantage of you. That he is too broken, too damaged, that you deserved better, someone your age that could give you a normal life. He would tell you that you have no idea what you’re asking for, but you know what you need.  

So you walk into the kitchen late at night, past midnight, to get a snack after parading yourself around the bunker all day in your flimsy clothes while Dean did some work in the garage and tried not to lose his mind. You loved the way his eyes darkened when he saw you, the way his hands almost shook with the need to take you. His self-control was slowly crumbling, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

But this meeting is accidental. You are actually just looking for something to eat, not expecting Dean to be sitting at the dining table with a half-empty whiskey bottle and clouded eyes. You stop for a moment while he is lost in thought, not noticing you. He looks a little sad, and it is one of those few moments when the tough guy facade fell and you could witness the weight of the years on his shoulders. The years of hunting, of losing people, of nothing but fighting. As much as you desire Dean, you are also very much in love with him, and you didn’t like when he hurt like this, alone and drowning his thoughts with booze. So you clear your throat, making him turn to you.

“It’s drinking night and you didn’t tell me?” You joke, walking behind the kitchen island to grab a bag of chips from one of the cabinets. 

“I thought you were asleep.” He murmurs, voice even deeper than it already usually is. You turn to look at him, meeting his eyes. Dean is good at keeping his emotions in check, at controlling his expressions, but you are good at reading people. Especially him. And there is this glint in his eyes, the one that tells you he doesn’t want to be alone.

So you grab a beer from the fridge and walk towards the dinner table, sitting down across from him. You had always preferred sweet, fruity drinks, but thanks to the Winchesters you had learned to appreciate beer. Whiskey was a hard no, though. Dean stares at you for a long moment, eyes unreadable, before lowering his eyes to his glass and letting out a low chuckle. 

“What were you brooding about?” You take a sip of your beer, opening your bag of chips and offering Dean some. He shakes his head, taking a swig of his whiskey instead. 

“Nothing, really. I don’t want to bore you with my old man stories.” He laughs, and some tension leaves his shoulders. 

You bite your lip. Oh, if he only knew how much you loved it when he went all old man on you. When he reminisced about the past, when he tried to give you advice, showing you how experienced he was in so many different things, and how much it made you want to find out exactly how experienced he really was.

“I like your stories.” You offer softly, a small smile on your lips. “Come on, tell me a good one.”

He looks up at you over the rim of his glass, and you give him your best puppy eyes.

He crumbles immediately. 

“Once, when I was twenty-three and Sammy was in college.” He starts, and he doesn’t stop.

You spend what feels like hours but also seconds sitting there, drinking beer after beer, listening to him. He tells you about this weird religious cult slash mental control witch he found once when hunting on his own. He tells you about the time he hooked up with some girl at a bar, and she ended up being an Amazon. He laughs at some of the memories and you laugh along. His expression gets somber when talking about certain people, the people he lost, and you give him a few seconds to wallow in it before you make a lighthearted comment that makes him smile again and move to another story. He talks about the times he died, the times he almost did. Sometimes, unconsciously, he rubs his hand over a part of his body as he tells a story, presumably where a scar marred his skin. All while you stare at him with shiny, attentive eyes, like he is the only person in the world that matters.

By the time you finish your third beer, Dean is already a tiny bit… not drunk, but definitely less guarded.

Still, he had such a high alcohol resistance. It was so hot.

“That case was crazy. I still wonder how the siblings are doing. I hope they’re okay.” There it is, the look on his eyes. The way they unfocus slightly as he absentmindedly traces the edge of his glass with his finger. It was in those moments that you can truly look at him, take in every small detail of his face. Every wrinkle, every scar, every evidence of every battle. The living proof of his resilience, of his experience, of his survival. You press your thighs together, trying to ground yourself.

You fantasize for a moment about sliding under the table, taking Dean into your mouth. Make his nostalgia turn into pleasure, make him feel good, remind him of the good old days.

“When was that?” You ask, gently coaxing him out of whatever place he got lost in his mind. He blinks at you, taking in your soft smile and sweet voice before replying.

“Right after Sammy started hunting again, so I was like… twenty-seven?” 

You quickly do the math in your head, calculating how old you were back then. Fuck. You were still a kid when Dean was already killing wendigos and vampires and shifters. Oh, there must be something really wrong with you, because that makes something on your lower stomach burn.

“So, you were quite the ladies man, huh?” You tease him, trying to shake away the desire building inside of you. You watch him chuckle and drop his head forward.

You already knew that, because he still is. You have to watch women throw themselves at him in every hunt and every bar. It was infuriating.

“You could say that.” He replies nonchalantly, but there’s a smirk on his lips as he down the rest of his whiskey. 

“Can you imagine me meeting you in your mid-twenties?” I giggle, and it causes Dean to snort and shake his head amusedly, refilling his glass. You lean forward on the table, your hand laying next to his. So close. “I can. I can imagine us meeting at a bar, or a diner.” You smirk. “Maybe even a concert! Can you imagine us meeting in a rock festival’s pit?”

Dean snorts again, eyes still down on his glass. He presses his tongue to his cheek, like he is trying to stop the words from coming out of his mouth, but they end up escaping him anyway.

“I was very different back then, sweetheart. I wouldn’t trust my younger self around a girl like you.”

And there it was. 

The comment makes your breath get stuck in the back of your throat, and you look up at Dean with wide eyes. 

I wouldn’t trust my younger self around a girl like you.

A girl like you.

Dean returns your heated gaze for a moment, his eyes sharp and deep in the way they only got after you teased him too much. 

“But you trust yourself with me now?” You ask with the most innocent voice you can utter, batting your long eyelashes at him. You watch as he takes in a sharp breath, swallowing harshly.

“Barely.” He whispers, looking down at your lips when you lick them and then back at your eyes. 

Shitshitshit.

“You don’t have to, you know?” Dean looks at you slightly confused, and you lean further forward before whispering. “Control yourself, I mean. You don’t have to.”

There is a second in which you think Dean will lunge himself at you, finally. His eyes are darker than you have ever seen them, because they weren’t dark with anger, they were full of pure, raw hunger.

His hand twitches, and then he pulls away. 

He gets up from the table, downing back the whole glass of whiskey before setting it down on the table with a little too much force. He starts to walk away, and you don’t know if it’s the beers you had or the desperation that had been accumulating for months, but this time you try to stop him.

You get up from the table too, quickly moving until you are blocking his way out of the kitchen.

He says your name in reproach, eyes glued to the floor. “We can’t-”

“Yes, we can.” You interrupt him, waking a step closer until your chests are almost pressed together. You grab his arm, making him look at you. “Please, Dean. I want it, you want it. Come on.”

Dean still shakes his head, deep frown on his face. “I’ve told you, I’m not good for you, you-”

You groan, rolling your eyes and stomping your foot on the floor. It didn’t help make you look any more mature, but you didn’t care.

“Yeah, I know. I’m too young, you’re too old. You’re broken and dangerous and all of that.” You say sarcastically, making him raise his eyebrows. “When are you going to stop lying to yourself, Dean?”

That makes him scoff, and he shakes his head while looking away again. “It is true. You deserve better than some guy old enough to be your father.” He grimaces at his own words, rubbing a hand over his face.

But you double down, pressing your body completely against his. You push forward and Dean lets you guide him backwards, and you know he’s letting you because you could not make him move an inch if he didn’t want you to. He ends up pressed against the kitchen island, hand still covering his eyes. You use your hand on his arm to pull it down, forcing him to look at you again.

“Dean, I want you.” You look deep into his eyes, and he almost looks pained by it. “I know you think I don’t know what’s best for me, but I do. I know what I need, and I need you.” You squeeze his bicep before your hand moves to the back of his neck, fingers tangling with the hairs there. 

He says your name again, almost as a plea.

He was breaking. He was caving in. 

“Please, Dean.” You whisper as your lips brush his, looking into those green eyes that consumed your every waking thought. “We both know I need a real man.”

And that seems to do the trick. He lets out something akin to a growl, and his hands are finally on you. One moves to your waist, grip bruising. The other one goes to your hair, fingers intertwining with the long locks and pulling your head back, hard, exposing the delicate curve of your throat. It makes you whimper. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” Dean leans in closer, but he doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he lets the tip of his nose brush against your skin, from the apple of your cheek to your jaw and down your neck. “I’m no prince charming.”

“I want you, Dean.” You whine when his lips brush against the sensitive surface of your throat. You use the hand that is still tangled on his hair to pull him up, make him meet your eyes. “Ruin me.”

His lips are on you in less than a second. The kiss is bruising, violent with months of repressed want. He pulls you even closer, his beard a little scratchy against the soft skin of your face. You love it.

He pushes your lips apart with his tongue and you let him in, whining at the way he bites your lip before licking behind your teeth. You weren’t inexperienced like Dean thought, you had hooked up with people once or twice, but nothing had ever felt like this. Nothing could compare to the way Dean’s experienced tongue explored your mouth, or the way he spins you two around until you are pressed against the kitchen island, callused hands running down your sides until they’re gripping the sensitive skin of your thighs, lifting you up until you are sitting on top of the counter.

You gasp at the sudden movement, but you part your legs and let Dean slide in between them, shuddering as his fingers run up and down your legs. 

“You’re so fucking sensitive.” Dean grunts, lips moving down to kiss your neck. He bites the skin softly, and then a bit harder, making you moan. 

You pull his hair harshly, and it is his turn to moan, a sound you wanted to hear every day of your life. You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him closer, until his clothed cock presses against your core over your dress. You two groan at the same time, and you pull Dean into another kiss.

“Come on, Dean. Show me how a real man fucks, teach me what real pleasure is.” You whisper against his lips, and he seems to go a little insane at that. 

In seconds, his hands have already pulled the tiny white dress off your body, leaving you only in your lacy black underwear. He grunts again at the sight, hands running over all the new skin visible.

“You’re so sweet, so fucking beautiful.” He whispers, almost adoring, as his fingers brush over the curve of your breasts and down to your stomach. You bite your lip, enjoying the feeling of his rough hands on your smooth skin. It is hot, to be only in your underwear while Dean is completely clothed, but you want to see him too.

So you pull his shirt off him before he can say anything, and your mouth waters. He is all lean muscle and tanned skin. There is the tattoo on his chest you’ve fantasized so many times about licking, and you decide to go for it. You first bite softly over his collarbone, trying to subtly suck a hickey there. Judging by Dean’s chuckle, you’re not very subtle. You make your way down, trace his tattoo with your tongue, bite down on the flesh of his pectoral. You kiss over every scar you find, licking over the larger ones. It makes Dean shiver every time, and the way he holds you turns a little softer. 

Then you press your hand over his bulge, and his breath hitches. It makes you feel proud that he is this affected by your touch. You rub him over his jeans for a moment, just basking in the feeling of it cupped in your hand and the fact that this was actually happening. You use both hands to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. You pull them down along with his underwear, and Dean takes a step back to be able to step out of them. And that is when you finally see all of him. 

You have to bite your lip before doing something too crazy. Dean was big. Curved up against his stomach and flushed. And so fucking hard. 

I did that, you think deliriously as you feel yourself getting wetter.

You lick your lips, craving to feel the weight of him on your tongue, but you need Dean to touch you right now.

Another time.

“One day I will suck you off until you pass out.” You breathe out, and it makes Dean groan. He presses back against you, kissing you harshly.

“You’ll be the death of me, baby.” He whispers against your lips before undoing your bra with just one hand, sliding it off your body. He pushes you backwards until your back touches the cold surface of the counter. It makes you shiver, but it is all forgotten when Dean takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

He sucks softly, and then a little harder. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same attention until your nipples are wet and flushed and hard. You are a whining mess by this point. He continues to make his way down your body with his mouth, lips brushing against your inner thighs and leaving dark purple marks on them. Because you were his now.

He takes off your boots and leaves your socked feet resting against the edge of the counter. The position leaves your legs wide open, and your chest rises and falls more rapidly the closer Dean’s face gets to your clothed pussy. 

“Dean.” You whimper when he presses his face to your mound over your panties.

“Have any of those little boyfriends of yours ever eaten you out, or are they too much of a coward to do it?” You don’t respond, because your head is spinning and your vision is hazy. “It doesn’t matter, because I will show you how it is done.”

And he does. He pulls your panties off and devours you. He has you whining and moaning in seconds, hands pulling on his hair for dear life. He sucks on your clit and runs his tongue through your folds like a starved man. You come on his tongue once, and then again. You basically have to peel him away from you before you lose your mind when he keeps going, keeps sucking until you’re twitching with oversensitivity. 

“Please, I need you inside.”

And how could he ever say not to that.

It is almost morning by the time you two are laying under the covers of Dean’s bed. He had fucked you there on the kitchen island (Sam can never know), and then he had fucked you again on his bed. You were both exhausted as you laid on his chest, drawing figures with your fingernails across his skin. You chuckle and look up at him, only to find him already staring at you. His eyes are softer than you have ever seen them as he seems to bask in the sight of you all fucked out and soft. It makes you blush.

“You might have actually ruined me for anyone else.” You joke, biting your lip. But it was true, you were sure that your body would reject anyone who wasn’t Dean Winchester from now on. 

The joke makes some heat come back to Dean’s eyes, but also something else, something softer. Something so warm and delicate and absolutely terrifying. 

“Good.” he rasps out. “Because you won’t need anyone else.”

NOTES: I can't believe all of this came out of a half-asleep horny thought that I had. Anyway, thank you so much for the overwhelming support, you are all the best.

Older Dean MAY come back because I am too obsessed with him, only if college doesn't kill me first.

TAGS: @h8aaz <3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

[radioactivatedspider]

Ben vs. Pregnancy Cravings 2.0: The Twin Apocalypse

Main Masterlist The Boys Masterlist 

Previously...Pt. 3

Pairing: soldier boy x pregnant wife!reader

Genre; Humor, Domestic Fluff, Slice of Life

Warnings; Pregnancy, Mood Swings, Food Cravings, Light Swearing, Mild Chaos

Summary: Ben thought he’d survived the worst—until YN’s pregnant with twins. She’s a ticking time bomb of cravings, mood swings, and pure exhaustion. Every late meal or wrong look sends her into a tantrum.

1283 words

Ben had survived war. He had survived getting locked in an ice box for decades. He had survived backstabbing Supes, power-hungry politicians, and some of the most batshit insane fights a man could ever endure.

But nothing, nothing, had prepared him for this.

YN was pregnant. Again.

But this time? It was twins.

And two girls at that.

The moment the doctor told them, Ben had just sat there, staring at the ultrasound screen like it was a live bomb about to go off in his face.

Two. Two babies.

Which meant double the mood swings. Double the pain. Double the cravings. Double the absolute fucking madness he had barely survived the first time around.

Ben had never been scared of anything in his entire life.

Until now.

Seven months in, and YN wasn’t just a ticking time bomb—she was an apocalyptic event waiting to happen.

Everything hurt. Her back? Wrecked. Her feet? Swollen. Her boobs? Ben had walked in too many times to count and found her aggressively massaging them with a full-on scowl.

The first time, he made the mistake of opening his mouth.

"You good, sweetheart?"

YN slowly turned her head. Venom in her eyes.

"You wanna come over here and see if you’re still good when your tits feel like they’ve been put through a meat grinder?"

Ben immediately backed away.

"Right. Carry on, then."

One day, she was crying because she dropped a spoon.

The next? She was yelling at him because he walked into the room too loudly.

The next? She had full-on thrown a pillow at his head because he breathed the wrong way.

At first, Ben tried to fight back. He was a man, damn it—he wasn’t gonna take all this crazy lying down.

But then?

Then he saw the fire in her eyes.

And Ben—one of the most dangerous men alive—realized he would not survive this war.

So, he did what any man with half a brain would do.

He surrendered.

"Yes, dear."

"I love you, sweetheart."

"You’re always right, baby."

Did it kill him a little inside? Yeah.

But did it keep him from being murdered in his sleep? Also yeah.

Ben had barely survived YN’s first pregnancy cravings.

He had endured James’ ungodly five-year-old cravings that still haunted him to this day.

But this?

This was worse.

Because YN wasn’t just craving one thing at a time.

No. She craved opposites.

She wanted hot wings—but also ice cream.

She wanted pickles—but also fudge brownies.

She wanted steak—but not too chewy, not too soft, and if it was one degree off from medium rare, she was throwing it at him.

And God help him if he took too long.

One night, he walked in exactly twelve minutes after she texted him to grab food.

And the moment she saw him?

"You’re late," she growled.

Ben blinked. "Twelve minutes isn’t—"

"You know what? I don’t even want it anymore," she snapped, crossing her arms. "Now I want pancakes."

Ben clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might break a tooth.

"You said cheeseburger."

"And now I want pancakes."

Ben closed his eyes. Inhaled deep. Exhaled slow.

"Fine. I’ll get you pancakes."

"You’re such a good husband," she hummed, smiling sweetly.

Ben muttered every curse word known to man as he turned around and grabbed his keys.

One night, Ben came home to screaming.

For a second, his heart stopped. He thought something was wrong.

But no.

No, YN was on the floor, throwing a tantrum like their five-year-old because she couldn’t reach the remote.

Ben stood in the doorway, horrified.

"Sweetheart?"

YN whipped her head up, red-faced and crying. "I CAN’T MOVE!"

Ben blinked. "You—you’re literally on the floor."

"I KNOW!" she sobbed. "I tried to get the remote and I fell and now I CAN’T GET UP!"

Ben bit back a laugh—a dangerous move—but still walked over, crouching down.

"Baby, you could’ve just called me."

"I didn’t want to call you, I wanted to do it MYSELF!"

Ben sighed, scooping her up with ease. "There. Fixed it."

YN huffed, crossing her arms like a petulant child. "I hate you."

Ben kissed her forehead. "Love you too, sweetheart."

Ben thought he was safe.

He thought tonight would be the night he could finally get a full night's sleep.

He was wrong.

At 3 AM, he was jolted awake by sniffling.

He groaned, rolling over. "Sweetheart?"

YN was sobbing.

Ben immediately sat up, heart racing. "Baby? What’s wrong? Is it the twins?"

YN shook her head. "No…" she hiccupped. "I want a grilled cheese."

Ben stared at her. "You’re crying… over a grilled cheese?"

YN snapped her head toward him.

Ben immediately knew he fucked up.

"You wanna try being seven months pregnant with TWO demon babies and tell me it’s not worth crying over?!" she snarled.

Ben threw the covers off, already getting up. "I’ll make you a damn grilled cheese, baby, calm down—"

"I WANT IT NOW!"

Ben ran to the kitchen like his life depended on it.

Ben was hanging on by a thread.

And the final straw?

One afternoon, he walked into the kitchen to find James and YN sitting at the table, happily eating what looked like…

Ben squinted.

"Is that—" he stopped mid-sentence, horrified.

James grinned. "Peanut butter and ketchup sandwiches!"

Ben covered his mouth. Visibly gagged.

YN just shrugged, munching happily. "Not bad."

Ben grabbed a chair and sat down, rubbing his face.

"This family is ruined," he muttered.

YN just smirked. "Better get used to it, babe."

Ben groaned. "I am so screwed."

It was 2 AM, and for once, Ben was actually sleeping.

No late-night cravings. No tears. No ridiculous food combinations. Just peace.

Until—

"Ben."

His eyes barely cracked open. "Mmm?"

"Ben."

He exhaled through his nose. "Sweetheart, please don’t tell me you want soup again—"

"Ben, my water broke."

Ben froze.

Eyes snapped open.

"Wait, what?"

YN stared at him. "My water broke."

Ben shot up so fast he nearly pulled something. "Right now?!"

She nodded. "Yep."

Ben launched himself out of bed, grabbing the overnight bag and throwing on his boots. He turned back to help YN up—

And paused.

Because she was just… sitting there.

Calm. Too calm.

"Sweetheart… we gotta go."

YN exhaled slowly, rubbing her belly. "Mmm, maybe in a few minutes."

Ben blinked. "What?"

"I’m not contracting yet." She sighed. "I just wanna sit here for a second."

Ben’s eye twitched. "A second? You’re in labor, woman, let’s move."

YN gave him a look. "Ben, I’ve done this before. I’m not rushing. Let me breathe."

Ben ran a hand down his face.

Fine. Whatever.

He turned to wake up James—

"Actually, babe?"

Ben tensed. He knew that tone.

Slowly, he turned back. "…What?"

YN smiled. "Can you make me a sandwich before we go?"

Ben stared at her.

YN blinked. "What? I’m hungry."

Ben inhaled deeply. "You—are in labor. You want a sandwich. Before the hospital."

YN shrugged. "Last time I gave birth, I wasn’t allowed to eat for hours. I’m not doing that again."

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. "Woman, I swear—"

"Ben."

Ben looked up.

YN’s face softened, her hand rubbing circles on her belly. "Please?"

Ben sighed.

Then, wordlessly, he went to the kitchen.

Because of course he was making a damn sandwich before going to the hospital.

Ben held his two screaming newborn daughters, absolutely shell-shocked.

YN, exhausted but grinning, looked over at him. "Told you I’d make it worse this time."

Ben stared at her.

Then at James.

Then at the two crying babies in his arms.

And the last thought he had before blacking out?

“I am so goddamn outnumbered.”

[dinner-partys]

[hellwillfollowoffical]

The Vibe I Bring To Supernatural 🍂

Had to take a stab at this and it was so fun! Inspired by @legalmente-loca

My OC also loosely inspired this, so if you like this vibe, check it out!