hueswithblues

[hueswithblues]

─── ( mlist, two. nsfw ! ) DEAN WINCHESTER carries two polaroids inside his wallet. a picture of you in a motel bed, sunlight spills through the curtains on your skin, drowning your irises— it’s one of his dearest possessions. you wear his flannel only, a pair of panties and no bra and your laugh is so contagious dean swears each time he takes the polaroid out of his wallet he falls in love all over again. and every time he can hear your laugh. you have huge smile plastered on your face and your mouth is covered with ketchup from a half eaten burger you’ve abandoned somewhere inside the cheap room.

the second polaroid, the prettiest fucking face he’s ever seen— big, teary eyes, wide open just for him. his cum drips in thick trails down your chin, your lipstick smeared, mascara running down your pretty face. it’s a polaroid of you on your knees, with your lips wrapped perfectly around the tip of his cock, your hand fisting its base, even if he spilled his cum down your throat already. the polaroid is shaky, but he’d never mind that. you’re gorgeous.

and a third photo— dean keeps it hidden inside his car. his little secret. his proudest one. it’s and old photograph of you inside the impala, completely naked, sprawled over the leather car seat while his dick fills up your wet cunt in the most obscene way. and you take him so well. so well, each time he’s away from you, he’ll stare at the polaroid with his dick throbbing inside his jeans. he gets so hard it physically hurts. he’ll spit in his hand and stroke his cock thinking of you, fantasizing about the way your pussy tightens around him.

he’d be such a liar if he said he didn’t have any more pictures of you.

[hueswithblues]

the panic attacks of not having my shit tg cuz im 18 n everyone seems to know exactly what they want in life💔

[hueswithblues]

Heels Off, Guard Down.

Ben (Soldier Boy) X Reader Established Relationship. (beginning stages)

NOTES & TW: NSFW (18+).

You tried to control your face twitches, that came with the hurt of your feet, because of the choice of heels you’d chosen to wear. It was perfect for the dinner date out until your eager self had suggested a walk because you felt “the wind to be aesthetically pleasing.” Yeah, that wasn’t the case anymore, as you tried not to limp-really tried-but the way those heels were biting into the sides of your feet felt borderline criminal. Your steps had slowed, and each step felt tricky and tiring.

You thought you were hiding it well. Playing it off as normal tiredness.

Apparently not.

Ben’s hand curled around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His brows were drawn together, not mad—just... worried. “Okay, stop. Give me your shoes.”

“I’m fine.”- You lied.

He just gave you a look, that clearly meant don’t-give-me-that-bullshit.

“Your shoes, sweetheart.” With that tone he used, you sighed, giving up your charade. You undid your straps as you slipped them off, hissing as your feet touched the cold pavement.

He crouched, carrying the heels by their straps, and then—before you knew—he stood, leaned forward, and scooped you up.

“Wait—Ben!” You squeaked as your arms went around his neck.

“What?” he said, voice too fucking calm for someone carrying a grown woman like you weighed nothing. “You’re in pain. I’m fixing it. Don’t argue, just sit tight, doll.”

You curled into his chest, half- embarrassed, half melting at the way he smelled—aftershave and something woody that you always forgot the name of. His grip was stupidly secure, like you weren’t a challenge to him at all.

“You’re impossible,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

“And you’re fucking stubborn,” he muttered back, kissing your temple like it was second nature. “But I’ve learned the cheat trick. Just let me lead the way, babe.”

You just smiled, immediately blushing at the intimacy of his words. Your feet were bare, the night was warm, and his heartbeat felt calm underneath your palms.

He was carrying you slow and steady, through a dimly lit street, heels swinging from his fingers like trophies, like it were the most natural thing to do. Like it was a privilege, and that’s how Ben made you feel in these stupidly soft and dangerously sweet moments.

And you had no idea what the you were going to do with how full your chest felt.

“I didn’t mean to ruin the walk,” you said softly, “I know it was my idea in the first place-”

“You didn’t ruin shit,” He murmured. “You think I didn’t want you in my arms, baby?” Your lips parted, having no reply to that. God, how easily did he say that.

He smiled at your reaction, a soft warmth settling in his chest. He wanted to laugh, and kiss you, instead he kept walking.

And maybe he walked a little slower than necessary. The feel of your body pressed against his, and the way your fingers played with the collar of his shirt like you weren’t even aware of it., made him a very happy man. He would even say the happiest man under the moon that night.

You both were close to the car when you whispered, “You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Make me feel like I’m… allowed to want more.”

That stooped his tracks, as he looked at you directly. Your eyes were soft, wide and unsure.

“You are,” his voice was low. “You’re allowed everything. You’re allowed me.”

And in your head, you were trying to believe it when he kisses you right there, his grip bringing you closer, if possible. Your hands slid into his hair, nails grazing his neck as you reciprocated with a burning intensity.

He groaned into your mouth, and that caused something to flutter in your chest. You pulled back just enough, to look into his eyes and whisper through your shaky breath, "Backseat?”

He blinked maybe twice, before his gaze darkened and a smirk played on his lips. He put you down first, opening the car door, and letting you slide in first. He followed like a man possessed and shut the door, all in a frenzy.

His arm was around your waist, in an instant, his other hand cupping your face to bring it closer for him, to kiss. Your back hit the leather seat, knees bent awkwardly as he hovered over me, and we both cursed when the hem of my dress refused to cooperate.

He grunted, tugging too fast, “Who the hell designs a dress with this many goddamn buttons?”

And you just giggled. Right in the middle of him trying to wrestle your dress off like it had personally offended him. Breathless, lightheaded, drunk on how desperately he wanted you.

“You’re struggling, old man,” you teased, arms lazily looping around his neck.

“Oh, don’t you fucking start,” he growled, but his lips curved anyway, teeth grazing your shoulder like punishment. “I could rip it off.”

“Try it and die.” He was prompted to do the opposite but he played nice, just because you were too precious in this moment, he didn’t want his frantic speed to ruin anything.

He stopped, his eyes flickering up at you, amused and feral all at once. “You’ll be naked in sixty seconds either way, baby. Pick your poison.”

The dress gave out a second later, slipping from one shoulder, then the other, his fingers finally getting the buttons and tied knot undone, knuckles dragging down your skin like it was some sort of ritual. His.

The car was cramped. Seats squeaking under your weight. Windows fogging faster than you could breathe through it. And at that moment, in the narrow space with the city alive behind the fogged glass, you could only think about how ruined you were for anyone else.

Your leaned in to kiss him, your hand on the sides of his face. Your legs found solace around his waist, his fingers gripping your thighs like he needed them to stay upright.

He sits back into the seat pulling you with him and before you could blink, he was steadying you on his lap. You were flushed, and growing breathless as you were straddling his lap. Your dress was now bunched up around your waist. You ground against him, feeling the bulge in his pants, as his hands worked to unhook your bra, which was tossed aside. "Your turn," you whispered, your voice thick and hazy.

Ben quickly obliged, removing his shirt yanking it off his toned torso. You ran your hands over him, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. He was smirking as you looked up at him.

He caught your wrists with each of his hands, his thumb rubbing over your hand softly.

“God, you’re so precious, doll.” He voiced carefully, his gaze piercing into your head. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

[hueswithblues]

NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOUR

older neighbour!Ben Hargrove (THE BOYS) x younger!Reader

Notes: this a little beginning to a maybe something I have planned. Also I'm not sure I proofread this enough. Please ignore the errors.

You were so curious about him. He was the rugged, handsome type. He had moved in six months ago, to the house next to yours.

He was all nice and sweet at last month's barbecue at the towns club. When you had walked in, the first thing you heard was the chords of the guitar playing along to a voice so deep and charming. You were so mesmerized.

While he had the most beautiful smile, the kind that would creep into your dreams. He also looked like the kind of man who’d fix your car and ruin your sense of self-worth all in the same afternoon.

And you? Young and college-bound, stuck in your aunt's old neighbourhood, cause you didn't have anywhere else to move in. But you were grateful cause at least the house was quite nice. And you got a pretty neighbour now too.

You were bored a lot. The kind of bored that made you buy some plants a week ago, get into some gardening. The kind of bored that had you show up at his door, giving him some cookies that your friend made when she came over and discovered you have a huge oven, left unused. You've been trying to perfect the recipe yourself after he'd told you in passing how wonderful those cookies tasted.

But then you gave up and made cute little themed cupcakes instead. And Ben always said the same thing.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

With that stupid fucking smile—crooked, polite, frustrating. And that’s all. No invitation inside. No lingering touch. No reaction to the pretty dress you'd chosen to wear just to hop next door, or the glint in your eyes. Nothing.

How many more hints could a girl drop? It felt like every time a conversation turns a little flirty between you two, (which weren't too many times) he'd pull back so quickly.

You had played with the thought and possibility of him not being attracted to you in your mind. But with what happened during the storm last weekend proved that wrong.

It was one of those loud, violent rains. Your power flickered. You texted him—silly little “hey, do you have candles?” excuse. He didn’t reply nor did he see it. So you showed up at his doorstep, clinging onto your jacket wrapped around you, shivering. He opened the door. He looked like he'd woken up from a sleep.

“Sweetheart” he frowned, his voice low and raspy. “Jesus. You’re drenched.”

"Drenched is a strong word, I'm just a little wet. And you didn't answer me, I texted you. Got any candles?" you rambled on, in a soft tone trying to keep your composure infront of him, and not turn into a blushing mess.

He sighed but was smiling. Closed his eyes. Pinched the bridge of his nose like he was holding back on saying something.

“Get in.”

You sat on his couch, wrapped in a throw blanket he handed you, knees pulled up. The fireplace was lit now. He handed you a warm drink and sat on the couch across from you.

Silent. Still. But everything in the room was pulsing. You didn't forget the way his eyes raked over you when you took off your almost wet jacket to wrap the blanket around your shivering body.

The tension was obvious. He wasn't saying anything, other than the small question if the drink was sweet enough for you.

You tucked your legs tighter under the blanket, your eyes fixed on the steam curling from your mug. “Thanks for this,” you said softly. “You didn’t have to.”

He leaned back, one arm draped over the couch, watching you. You suddenly felt hot all over. “What, and let you freeze out there? Not my style.”

"Well I wouldn't have walked over here, if you hadn't ignored my text". You replied, raising your eyes to meet his.

He raised a brow. “Ignoring your text? Why the hell would I do that? I just hadn't been on my phone, sweetheart, that's all.”

Your gaze flicked to him then back down, a nervous little shrug. “I don’t know… figured maybe you just… didn’t wanna deal with me. Or that I wasn’t…” you trailed off, biting your lip, then tried to cover with a small laugh, “—not exactly the kind of neighbor you notice, y’know?”

"Oh, I notice you, alright."

Your cheeks flushed pink. Something about the way he said it, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Trust me, if I was ignoring you, you’d damn well know it. I notice you more than I should.”

He sipped from his mug like he hadn’t just said it, casual, easy. But his eyes didn’t leave you this time.

Now the tension in the air grew thick. You wondered if you were the only one feeling it. You felt a little bolder now, since you both were almost addressing the elephant in the room.

“So what is it?” you whispered. “You don’t find me attractive?”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not it.”

“Then what?”

"You're way too young to get into bed with me".

"So you think about that?" You didn't know what caused you to spur him on.

He looked at you then. Really looked. And you could swear your whole body shivered.

“You make it real hard not to.”

[hueswithblues]

Me after seeing the mark meachum pictures of him in bed

[hueswithblues]

I still don’t understand Kripke's promotional stunt of Soldier Boy being worse than Homelander... like why?? Forget Homelander, I hardly found Soildier boy evil enough. I was rather feeling bad for him when everyone betrayed him at the end. He had the Integrity till the end to complete what he promised to do. justice for soldier boy☠️

I don't get it either. I love Homelander and hate him at the same time, Ant does such an extraordinary job playing him. When Kripke announced SB being worse than HL, I cheered bc hell, would I love to see Jensen playing an evil piece of shit 🤩

And then we'll get just a guy who certainly has Daddy and anger management issues, got hyped as the first supe, then was betrayed by his own team (and the woman he loved) and tortured unimagineable for months/years and then has to face a time he doesn't know anything about.

Yes, SB is kind of an asshole and seeks revenge, but Kripke made him kind of a sap, if you know what I mean? I love SB and I think it was Jensen's best acting so far but I often think about what we could've had. I mean Ant brilliantly adds the vulnerability into his villain role, so you have to feel bad for him. This with SB and then sic those two against each other - it would've been EPIC!

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HE'S SO PERFECTLY PRETTY.

I love him 💕

COUNTDOWN / Mark Meachum

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He's so dreamy. So scrumptious. So perfect.

When I tell you I couldn't stop pausing on so many frames during this scene so much.

I'm never ever getting over this.

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[hueswithblues]

I can’t even compute rn. I am in mourning over the beard being gone….HELLO!?

Guys how are we feeling rn? @zepskies @waynes-multiverse @godmadeaterribleerror @prettyinpeaches

[hueswithblues]

accurate siblings representation

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Hey, hey. Dean. You good? You good?  I gotcha.  

Supernatural 11x16 Safe House

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Being his controversially young gf could fix me

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drinking water when I have a headache should give instant relief. it should go away. what's even the point of drinking water if it can't do that

[hueswithblues]

Jensen Ackles photographed by Steven Simko for Collider (2025)

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😼 going CRAZYYY

[hueswithblues]