marchsfreakshow

[marchsfreakshow]

cw: smut-ish.ᐟ angst.ᐟ comfort.ᐟ dbf!ben x reader.ᐟ au non-supe ben.ᐟ age gap [reader is in her 20s].ᐟ reader lives at home.ᐟ manipulation.ᐟ corruption kink.ᐟ pervy!ben.ᐟ aggressive!ben.ᐟ pet names [sweetheart, baby, baby girl].ᐟ 18+

wc: 3060

you never seemed to keep a boyfriend for very long.

it had been two so far this year, and not a single one ever lasted more than a few weeks past meeting your family— your dad, his buddies, the usual backyard hangout crowd. they’d smile and shake hands and crack open a cold one, and then something always shifted.

texts got slower, plans got canceled, one ghosted you entirely.

another mumbled something about “not being ready for something serious” after he’d just spent the week telling you how into you he was.

you didn’t understand it. what you were doing wrong? they always left just when things started to feel comfortable, right around the time ben was over.

but you never suspected anything. your dad had always been supportive— maybe a little protective, but never pushy. and ben was even better. he’d clap your boyfriends on the back, offer them beers, flash that easy smile that made everyone feel like they belonged.

he made jokes, gave advice, almost played the role of ‘uncle ben’ so well you’d almost forget how long his eyes would sometimes linger on your legs, your lips, your hips when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

not that you ever suspected him. why would you? he was your dad’s oldest friend, practically family. had been around forever— fixing things around the house, cracking jokes that made your cheeks burn.

but he never crossed a line, never touched, never did anything outright.

but you also didn’t catch the way ben’s arm draped casually along the back of the lawn chair, fingers curling into a fist behind your boyfriend’s head. or the way he gripped their hands too tightly for a handshake.

you didn’t catch the way ben looked at them— not friendly, but waiting.

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the first boyfriend you had, was polite, nervous around your dad, always offering to help carry things. not the type you usually went for, but he made you laugh, and he looked at you like he meant it.

ben had come by to drop off a tool he borrowed, that’s all it was. a quick visit— couple of beers, some talk about chainsaws, and a smoke by the shed. but he came through the front, unannounced. let himself in like he always did.

and he wasn’t loud about it either. the creak in the door, barely audible. he stepped inside quiet, out of habit. caught the sound of the tv, soft buzz in the background and then the silouhette of you on the couch.

“anyone in here?” ben called out turning the corner.

you jolted, legs swinging off of your boyfriends lap so fast your knees hit the coffee table. your shirt was rumpled, lips swollen— the boy had been grinding up against you through his jeans.

“ben— fuck, i didn’t hear you come in,” you stammered, tugging the hem of your top straight. wiping your lips off like you just did something unholy.

ben didn’t look at you, he tipped his head toward your boyfriend with a tight smile. “your dad’s wants me riggin’ up a tarp for the smoker, we're gonna need an extra pair of hands, mind helpin’?”

and your boyfriend actually smiled back. standing up with a full fledged boner hidden behind his belt, with a "sure thing, man".  

it wasn’t until the sun dipped and everyone had gone inside that ben finally pulled him aside. just the two of them behind the shed, cigarette burning between his fingers, smoke curling against the boy's face.

“so, what is it?” a pause to take a puff. “you fuck her yet?”

your boyfriend choked on his own spit. “excuse me?”

“i said, did you fuck her?” ben asked again, a twitch in his eye. “you put your cock in her, huh? that it? cause see, a sweet girl like that— she ain’t meant to be ruined by some dumb kid’s fingers."

ben leaned in, too close and he sure as hell wasn’t smiling now. “c'mon champ, you ever taste her? she ride your thigh like that often, or just when she’s desperate for it?”

“look man—” the boy took a step back, hands up defensively, “i— i haven’t done anything. i swear. she said she wanted to wait.”

“good,” he muttered finally. “means she ain’t fuckin' ruined.”

and with a little more coercing, and possibly a few mild threats, your boyfriend left the next morning. no text, no explanation, completely ghosted you ever since that day.

the second boyfriend. you were upstairs getting ready for bed. hair still wet from the shower, door cracked, towel slipping low on your hips. ben paused in the hallway. stared just long enough to see the shadow of your figure move in front of your mirror, then kept walking.

your boyfriend was alone in the kitchen. it was late. your dad had gone to bed already. ben should’ve left too, but he didn’t.

“grab me one would'ya?,” ben said, nodding at the fridge as if it was his own.

your boyfriend smiled, pulled two beers. he was nervous— you always dated the nervous ones, the type that tried too hard to fit in. ben cracked his open bottle and leaned back against the countertop.

“you ever think about how young she is?” ben asked suddenly.

the guy blinked. “uh— what? i've only got a few years on her?”

ben took a long sip from the beers spout. “you know what i mean. she’s not some bar slut, she’s still got rules. living in her daddy’s house, under daddy’s roof.” he gave a dry chuckle.

“dude, no,” he said quickly. “it’s not like that.”

ben tilted his head finally. studied him like something under a heat lamp. “you’re tellin’ me you ain’t touched her yet?”

your boyfriend cleared his throat. “not like, not all the way, but—”

ben laughed under his breath. shook his head like he was disappointed. “she’s sweet,” he murmured. “ and too fuckin’ good for you.”

“well, i like her,” the guy insisted. “i’m not trying to hurt her or anything.”

ben stepped closer, eyes dark. “nah. but you’re gonna. sooner or later. they always do. and i’ll be honest with you, kid.” he leaned down, tone dropping low enough to make the hairs rise on the back of his neck. “if you ever come 'round here again, i’ll put your head through drywall and tell her you fell.” ben smiled, mocking but almost pitying. “don’t make me have to explain to her why you stopped calling.”

he patted him on the cheek once, like a father would. then turned and walked down the hall— pausing just once to glance up at the light spilling from your bedroom door.

and that guy left the same night, told you 'it wasnt gonna workout' with no further explanation.

you cried his arms both times— like you always did after things went wrong. the second ben seen your red eyes, he was reaching for you.

“sweetheart,” he said, full of concern. “what happened?”

you tried to wave it off. shook your head, blinked quick like that’d stop the tears, but he was already opening his arms, tugging you into his lap.

“shh, hey now,” he muttered, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other rubbing long, slow strokes down your back. “none of that, baby. you're too good to be cryin’ over some dumb fuck who doesn’t know what he had.”

you sniffled, curled into his chest, and he rocked you just a little— soft and steady, hoping he might lull the ache out of your ribs.

“they don’t get it, sweetheart,” he whispered, mouth near your temple. “you’re somethin’ special. any guy with half a brain would be beggin’ to hold onto you.”

and the second time it happened, he offered to take you for ice cream. said you could drive around in his truck for a while, let the breeze help clear your head. called you his baby girl when you managed a weak smile.

and you didn’t even think to wonder why he was always the one around when your heart got broken.

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you’d kept this third boyfriend to yourself for the first few months— told yourself it was better that way. no pressure or interference. no early opinions from your dad or awkward tension radiating off the man who was fused to your living room couch.

and things were going well this time. there were no red flags, sudden withdrawals, no ghosting or half-hearted apologies through text. and most importantly, now he wanted to meet your family.

after your last ex ended things out of nowhere, it left you hollow and second-guessing everything— if you were too much, too clingy, not pretty enough. the kind of rejection that doesn’t make you angry, just small.

you’d never wondered why ben always showed up the next day. or wondered how he always knew exactly when you needed him.

because now, things were going right— and ben’s been watching you closer. smiling harder, slipping in questions with that easy charm he uses when he wants to pretend something doesn’t matter.

“what’s got my baby girl lookin’ so happy lately?”

you’d simply smiled, not bothering to look up from your phone. “no reason.”

“nah,” he hummed. “there’s always a reason. c’mon now, y'don’t need another silly boyfriend to keep that pretty smile, sweetheart. you’re perfect the way you are.”

your laugh had been small, shoulders hunching like he’d embarrassed you. but you didn’t think much of it. ben said shit like that all the time. always a bit too affectionate, too hands-on, too familiar— but that was just the way ben was.

and so, you finally decided it was time to bring your boyfriend around. your dad didn’t think much of it— he was just glad to see you smiling again. and ben, well, ben had just grinned. “can’t wait to meet him.” with a tick in his jaw that went unnoticed by you.

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so, the dinner had been your idea. your boyfriend— months in now, and still going strong— had started asking about finally meeting your dad. and since ben was already over almost every weekend, hanging around like he always had, it made sense to do it all at once.

but by the time you’d set the table, there was a nervousness creeping in under your skin. not from your boyfriend, no, he was charming, polite. even brought your dad a bottle of something expensive as a thank you. he complimented your cooking, even offered to help clean up.

it was because of ben, from the moment he stepped through the front door, something was off.

"mm, smells real good in here," he said, sniffing the air dramatically. "or is it that new scent you been sportin' lately.”

“it’s that strawberry one i bought you—” your boyfriend started from beside you.

ben didn’t even look at him. “s'the lavender vanilla one,” he cut in smoothly, eyes flicking over to you like he’d won fucking first place in a game that wasn't supposed to be played. “ it's a little stronger than usual tonight, ain’t it, sweetheart?”

you shyly laughed, cheeks warming as you smoothed your hands over your thighs. “yea, maybe i went overboard.”

“nah.” ben’s smile twitched into something tighter. “i like it.”

your dad called from the kitchen, and the moment broke— ben shrugging out of his jacket and moving toward him like nothing had happened, patting your boyfriends shoulder, helping with drinks.

ben sat across from the two of you at the table, making himself comfortable like he owned the place. arm hung lazy over the back of your dad’s chair, relaxed in a deliberate way that always meant he was watching everything.

“so," he started casually, tipping his chin toward your boyfriend, “you’re the one that’s got her grinnin’ all the time like that, huh?”

"guess so," your boyfriend chuckled, glancing at you.

"hm." ben smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “lotta pressure, y’know. keepin’ a smile like that on her.”

your dad snorted into his beer. “don’t scare him off now, ben.”

“nah, i mean it,” ben said, eyes flicking back to your boyfriend. “ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ a little protective. not when that someone’s worth protectin’.”

your boyfriend nodded tightly, but he shifted in his seat like he was uncomfortable just sitting there.

you glanced between the two of them, sensing a weird change in the air, but your dad— oblivious— got up from the table with a sigh. “gonna hit the bathroom, don’t let ''em fight while i’m gone.”

the second your dad disappeared down the hall, ben leaned forward, forearms braced on the wood, beer bottle dangling from his fingers.

“so tell me,” he said, tone still smooth, but quieter now. “you think you’re good for her?”

your boyfriend blinked. “uh—yeah. i’d like to think so.”

“you’d like to think so,” ben echoed. “see, that ain’t the same as knowin’. that’s just guessin’. and guessin’ don’t cut it around here.”

“ben,” you warned softly, eyes wide.

“what?” he blinked innocently. “m'just tryin’ to get to know the guy.”

you shifted in your seat, suddenly too aware of the tension— how your boyfriend had stopped smiling. and how ben hadn’t looked away from him once. the air had thickened with something unspoken, even as he tilted his head and grinned again, all faux-charm and teeth.

"look," he said, glancing at you. “m’just messin’ with you both. i approve of it, m'happy for you two.”

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after dinner, the air was cool outside, crickets humming under the moonlight. porchlight flickering.

your boyfriend had kissed you goodbye by the front door. leaned in with both hands curling a little too low over your ass, even gave a squeeze that made your shoulder jerk with a surprised laugh. you returned still inside, rinsing the dishes with your dad. laughing over some dumb joke ben had told earlier.

your boyfriend didn’t know ben was outside the house. he didn't clock the sharp flick of a lighter or the curling smoke of a cigarette beside the fence, or the way his boots chewed over the gravel when he stepped out of the dark.

“hey.” ben had that wolfish grin on his face, the forced kind of grin that never reached his eyes. “you left somethin’.”

your boyfriend blinked, patting his pockets. “oh shit what—?”

“my fuckin’ patience.” ben grabbed him by the shirt collar before the kid could blink, yanking him back against the rear end of the car with a dull thud.

“jesus, what the fuck man?”

“don’t touch her like that.” ben’s fist was knotted in the cotton of his collar, twisting hard enough the guy had to grab at his wrist. "you shut up and listen to me.” his voice was so quiet, dangerous, the kind of tone that made anyones blood chill even if it wasn’t meant for you.

“you wanna play boyfriend, fine. smile at her, take her out, tell her she’s beautiful. but you pull a stunt like that, in front of me again— hands on her ass, kissin’ her like you own her— and i swear to god—”

“you’re insane—”

ben leaned in closer, his mouth right by the guy’s ear. “if you wanna keep your fingers, you’ll walk away, tonight. tell her you changed your mind, tell her it’s not workin’. i don’t give a fuck how you spin it. you make sure it ends.”

he let the poor guy go, shoved back just hard enough to make him stumble.

“and next time a man’s talkin’ to you, you look him in the fucking eye, or i’ll teach you how real men handle disrespect.”

your boyfriend looked stunned. chest heaving, like he couldn’t decide whether to swing or run.

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but by the next morning— ben knew.

it was barely past noon when he pulled up to the house again. he knew your dad’s out at work for the day, knew it before he even turned onto your street.

still, he knocks at your front door twice, but you don’t answer. and your sniffles gave you away before anything else did. ben opened the door and turned the corner to see you curled up on the couch, knees to your chest.

you look up, startled, and he plays the part— eyes wide with concern, voice gentle like cotton as he crouches down to your level.

“hey now,” he murmurs, brushing a hand over your arm, “what’s all this?”

your face crumples. “ben—” but the words cut short as your mouth wobbles and your eyes squeeze shut, tears spilling hot down your cheeks.

“aw, baby,” he breathes, pulling you in, “c’mere, that’s it. let it out, let it all out.” he cradles your head against his chest, and you just sob—deep, shaking, gut-wrenching.

you not even sure why he’s here. but the warmth as you cling to him, twisting your fists into the front of his shirt, as he pets your hair like you’re some fragile little thing. it was soothing.

“i knew somethin’ was wrong,” he coos, “my poor girl, crying all alone.” his lips press right in to your hairline. “don’t worry, i'm here now.”

he tilts your face up, pads his thumb under your lashes and over the damp skin of your cheeks, placing a soft kiss between your brows. “you’re too good for that kinda heartbreak, sweetheart.”

your breath stutters again, but it’s softer now— easing slowly under the warmth of his voice and the rough pads of his fingers stroking your temple. you fall asleep like that— head resting in his lap, cheek squished against the denim of his jeans, fingers curled against his thigh. he rubs your back in gentle circles, just watching down over you.

ben's other hand drifts over your bare thigh, and his cock is already half-hard beneath you. and it’s not about that right now, not when you look this soft, this innocent.

because if ben can’t have you, then no one else ever will.

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[marchsfreakshow]

Sydney x Carmen Parents-to-be Headcanons

I imagine this takes place in the not-too-distant future following a reconciliation (and them sorting their shit out) in Season 5. Once they decide to be together, the relationship moves quickly.

Read below

* Syd stops everything when she feels movement, holding completely still and trying to count the kicks. When the spell of activity is over, she looks up and catches Carm across the kitchen watching her (he’s been watching her the whole time), with the tiniest smile on his face.

* Carmen tries to get Sydney to eat nonstop, but she can never tell him what she wants. He gets frustrated, suggesting ever more elaborate dishes, and reminds her how important it is for her to eat. She has to tell him as kindly as possible to chill out about it, still guiding him in the way she always has.

* They go to antenatal classes, and it hits him just how much stress Nat was under, being pregnant the entire time that The Bear was being renovated/opening. Syd encourages him to talk to Nat and maybe even apologise for not acknowledging her sacrifices sooner. When he does this, Natalie’s eyes well up, but she brushes it off the very next second, saying there’s nowhere else she’d have rather been.

* Richie, Marcus, Luca, the Faks, etc., become super attentive to Sydney in the kitchen. Carmen struggles with this to begin with. This is his thing, his baby—he should be the one giving Syd all the attention. But he soon realises that it makes Syd happy to feel as though she has her family around her, caring for her, and he can’t ask for more than that, especially as some of them had been so vocal about him patching things up with Claire.

* Carmen starts asking Richie questions about bringing the baby home, early fatherhood, etc. At first, it’s just small enquiries, like which brand of diapers to buy. Richie never withholds information or acts like he knows it all. He simply steps into the role of older brother, happy to finally have his place in the family. Despite everything he and Carmen have been through, he finally gets to represent Mikey.

* Carmen permanently avoids cigarettes and makes a concerted effort to stop yelling. Everyone appreciates this (especially Sydney).

* Syd struggles with baby names. She wants to honour the people who aren’t with them anymore—Mikey, her mom—but at the same time, she wants the baby to have a name all of its own. Carmen reassures her, completely happy to let her take the lead on this, and certain that the right name will come to her when she’s ready.

* When Syd starts to get too big and achy to pull her usual shifts, she gets upset. If she’s not there in the kitchen, holding it all together, she worries that things will fall apart. Carmen never suggests she stay home; he just makes the office as comfortable as possible for her, realising that nothing could keep him away from The Bear, so he can’t expect her to stay away.

* When the baby arrives, the team really step up. Everyone works hard to keep things going so that Syd and Carm don’t feel they have to rush back to work. Even so, and despite how in love they are with their new arrival, The Bear is their baby too. It becomes a constant juggling act, but they make it work as a partnership, because against all the odds (or maybe because of them), they have both become excellent at parenting, whether it’s their Bear family or their own child.

[marchsfreakshow]

[marchsfreakshow]

ᯓ★ˎˊ ‘sunset’

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

content: fluff!! literally just dean being utterly in love with you

pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

summary: you’re the reason dean believes there is good in the world

word count: 591

You were sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, the warm summer air blowing in from the window. Dean had one hand on the wheel and the other resting idly on your thigh. The atmosphere felt comfortable, safe. No mentions of going on a hunt, no mentions of a creature they hunted recently. It felt normal, for once.

The gravel crunched under the tires of Baby as you pulled up to the beach, the sun reflecting against the shimmering waves. Dean squeezed your thigh lightly before getting out of the car and walking around the hood of the car to get to your door, opening it rather theatrically. You giggled at the way he held his hand out for you, taking it with a grin.

“How kind of you.” You teased as he rolled his eyes and led you over to the water, watching as he bit back a smile. Dean dropped your hand to bend down and take off his boots, tossing them lazily behind him toward the car.

The water trickled in towards you, the gentle sound of the low waves fading into the background as Dean spoke up, his voice a warm welcoming sound you wished you could listen to forever. “Come in with me.” He reached his hand out towards yours, waiting for you to take it and join him.

You shook your head as you began to take off your own shoes, kicking them behind you as you reached out to hold Dean’s hand.

The next hour consisted in Dean splashing the water all over you like a child and him admiring the way you’re wet hair stuck to your face and shoulders and the way your eyes lit up every time he spoke to you. You’d both somehow ended up completely soaked, even though you’d originally planned to just dip your feet in and enjoy the sunset.

Your fingers trailed over Dean’s arm as you rested your head on his bare chest, the now chillier air being kept out by his oversized flannel around your shoulders and his arm holding you close. He ran a hand over your leg that entwined with his, swiping the sand off and back onto the floor beside you.

The sun was now setting, lighting up the ocean with an orange glow. You hummed as Dean pressed a kiss to the top of your head, pulling you ever so slightly closer. “The sunset’s beautiful.” You whispered, eyes wide as you watched it slowly sink into the water.

“Yeah. So beautiful.” Dean mumbled in agreement, his eyes trained on your face.

Dean was careful as to not to startle you as he picked you up effortlessly and carried you toward the car. You had fallen asleep watching the sunset and Dean couldn’t help but admire your peaceful expression.

He set you down in the passenger seat, his jacket and flannel wrapped around your still sea soaked body, making sure you were comfortable and secure before quietly closing the door behind you and gathering up yours and his boots, throwing them into the backseat.

He played the radio low as he drove back to the motel where Sam was waiting for them. Dean’s gaze drifted over to you more often than he would like to admit, watching how relaxed you looked.

You gave him hope that there was a future for him and that he was deserving of it. You gave him hope that not everything in the world was bad, and he clung onto it every chance he got.

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a/n: i lowkey feel like i’m flopping lately 😭 it’s okay though i love every single one of you that read my stuff, i love seeing people liking multiple of my posts

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[marchsfreakshow]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ It started with a boys’ trip to the jeweler. Dean swore he’d know the right ring when he saw it. Three hours later, Sam was quizzing the clerk on clarity and cut, Cas was staring intensely at the diamond cases behind the counter, and Dean was spinning a velvet tray in his hands like it might give him the answer.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ The ring he picked? Solid platinum with a vintage setting. Clean lines, old-school charm, and built to last. “Classy as hell,” he said, turning it over between his fingers later that night. “She’s gonna love this. Right?” Sam just nodded. Dean smirked. “Damn right, she will.”

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He ran mock proposals on one knee in the bunker war room. Cas played your role while Sam gave notes from the sidelines. One day, you walked in mid-kneel. “Shoe shine demo,” Dean explained. “Really gotta get in there.”

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He kept the ring in the glove box for a week, driving around with sweaty palms. Every time you leaned across the console to turn up the music, he nearly popped the question just to get the weight off his chest.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He almost did it at a diner, over pie. Then again, after an exorcism in Dallas. Neither felt quite right.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ In the end, he figured it out. The only place that really felt right was Baby.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He washed her down and parked on a quiet turnout under the stars. Opened the passenger door for you with the music low on the radio and a look on his face that made your stomach twist. “Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You got a sec?”

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He pulled the ring box from his jacket, dropped it, and watched it clatter under the car. When he came back up, he stayed down on one knee, heart pounding. “I wanted this to be perfect,” he admitted with a shaky laugh.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ When you said yes, he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years. “Thank God,” he whispered, grinning like a fool. “Nearly passed out there.”

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ The kiss afterward was desperate and full of relief. His hands moved over your back, your face, into your hair. He kissed you hard, smiling against your mouth, whispering quiet thank yous between each press of his lips.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★He refused to drive back until you’d made out in the backseat. “We've gotta seal the deal,” he said, pulling you into his lap like it was the most reasonable request in the world.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ For days after, he kept looking at you like you’d just saved his life all over again. His eyes always drifted to your ring, and he’d smile to himself like he still couldn’t believe it.

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He would be such a wreck.

[marchsfreakshow]

there's a deleted xma scene they didn't tell you about

[marchsfreakshow]

─── ( mlist, 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.

[marchsfreakshow]

New Bullet Train content in 2025?! 🤩 does this mean something? 😏

[marchsfreakshow]

back in the 00s a single dancing anime chibi gif would feed us for months on end

[marchsfreakshow]

“I want more. And I know I shouldn’t. I’m not the Jedi I should be.”

Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen one.

[marchsfreakshow]

ᯓ★ˎˊ ‘abstinence, or lack thereof’

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

content: smut - porn with no plot, p in v, protection used (DO do this!!!!), pet names (sweetheart, baby), size kink (kinda)

pairing: dom!Dean Winchester x virgin!fem!reader

summary: you think sex is a sin, dean wants to show you what you’re missing

word count: 758

this was inspired by season 8 episode 8, but it contains no spoilers!

It went against everything you had vowed to forget and leave behind in your past life, but you couldn’t say no to him, Dean Winchester.

You were the counsellor in the chastity group at your local church, every girl there had vowed to live a life of abstinence and to be ‘born again’ as a virgin. But you? You really were a virgin, not some silly ‘born again’ one.

And right now? You were completely disregarding everything you stood for.

You were leaning back on your elbows, watching as Dean rolled a condom onto his large cock. You worried that it wouldn’t fit, considering it was your first time, but you trusted the judgement of the man who had done this many times before rather than your own.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Dean asked you as he spread your legs apart, teasing your swollen clit with feather like touches. You nodded and bit your bottom lip to try stifle the whimpers, but Dean continued to tease. “Use your words, baby.”

“Y- Yeah. I want to h- have sex with you.” You spoke sheepishly, feeling your face start to burn. “Atta girl.” He grinned as he settled in between your legs, giving his cock a few pumps over the latex before lining up with your soaked cunt.

When he pushed the tip in, the stretch already felt like it was burning inside of you. You let out a broken whine as you brought a hand to his arm, squeezing it as a way to ground yourself. Dean groaned at how tight you were, it was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

He took it slow, pushing his thick length into you slowly, stopping to let you adjust whenever you tensed up. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. You’re taking me so well.” He praised you, his voice thick with lust. He rubbed his thumb over your clit as he finally bottomed out, feeling how you pulled him in even deeper.

Dean pressed open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down to your neck, waiting and giving you time to adjust to the new feeling. When you rocked your hips against his sloppily, he knew you were telling him you were ready.

He pulled out to his tip before pushing back in slowly, moaning at the feeling of your slick walls dragging against him. “So fuckin’ tight, baby.” He growled into your shoulder before nipping lightly at the skin, drawing a soft yelp from you.

After a few more slow thrusts, the pain from the stretch had now turned completely into pleasure, and you were desperate for more. “F- Faster, Dean.” You whined desperately as you moved your hips to meet his thrusts. He immediately met your request, dragging in and out of you quicker as he felt how you clenched around him.

Your head fell back and hit the pillow behind you, the unfamiliar yet overwhelming feeling took over your whole body. Dean lifted one of your legs above his shoulder, kissing your inner thigh as he hit an even deeper angle with the new position. A broken string of whimpers and incompressible babble fell from your mouth, unable to keep up with the words forming in your brain.

It wasn’t much longer until you felt the pleasure grow stronger and stronger, clenching down around Dean’s pistoning cock. He could tell you were close so he pressed his calloused thumb to your clit, circling rough pressure onto it. Your fingers dug into the skin of his strong biceps, hips bucking up to meet his as you let out a shaky moan.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you came, the sensation taking over every part of you. Dean kept a steady pace as he fucked you through your orgasm, and it didn’t take long for him to finish with how you were pulling him in deeper. His hips stuttered as he spilled his hot load into the condom, only pulling out when you had both come down.

“You okay? Did I go too hard?” Dean asked softly as he rolled off the condom and tossed it into the bin beside the bed, a hint of concern in his voice. You shook your head as you squeezed your thighs shut from overstimulation. “I’m okay. It was.. woah.” You said shakily, making Dean chuckle.

“I broke my vow. What will the church say?” You frowned as you looked up at Dean. He shook his head and kissed your forehead. “A vow is nothin’ but words and writing on a paper, sweetheart.”

‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

a/n: kind of a shorter one but i had this idea when i rewatched the episode and had to write it, and i know you guys love dean smut so its a win win

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taglist: @ambiguous-avery , @deansweetheart , @mulderssweetheart , @butterphiiss , @butterphii , @sammyslittledoll , @mostlymarvelgirl , @multiversefanfics , @lanaajunkie , @globetrotter28

[marchsfreakshow]

"Your love language is what you were deprived of as a child" actually no you're allowed to want, prefer and like things without everything tracing back to some dormant unprocessed trauma. You can just say you want to bounce on it without having to explain how as a child you always wanted - but never got - a trampoline.

[marchsfreakshow]

honestly…road head with soldier boy is all i can think about lately (love all your works btw!!)

notes .ᐟ thank you babe ♡

the car jerks forward harshly, making you slam your hand against the dash, laughing and scared shittless. “what the hell was that?” you ask, bracing your palm against the dash, glaring up at him trying to look serious.

“i’m drivin’,” he growls, not looking at you, “you said keep it between the lines, so i’m keepin’ it.”

“you’re weaving like a drunk grandpa in a bumper car .. this isn’t a fucking tank.”

he lets out this deep, sexy grunt, “shit, maybe i’d do better if this piece’a shit had some real power under the hood .. this feels like steer’n a fuckin’ washing machine.”

you shake your head and let your fingers trace over his inner thigh again. his jeans were too tight, but you can already feel the bulge pressing under the zipper. he twitches when you press into it. “you need to learn how to drive like a grown-ass man,” you murmur, palming him harder, “and i figured you may need a little motivation.”

“this motivation involves me crash'n into a fuckin’ ditch?”

instead of answering him, you gently slide his zipper down. his cock strains forward the second there’s room. the moment the beast is out, you lean in to breathe across the head.

“eyes on the road, soldier,” you whisper, lips brushing him, “show me you can multitask.”

“fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, groaning low in his chest, “you’re gonna get us killed.”

“you’ve been blown up and buried, what’s one little blowjob while doing forty in a school zone?”

he barks a rough laugh, head thrown back against the seat for a second before he yanks it forward again, knuckles tightening hard on the wheel. “oh fuckin'—”

you hum as you wrap your lips around the head. gosh, he tastes amazing. his cock swells fast in your mouth, thickening against your tongue, and you sink lower inch by inch until your throat’s tight around him.

his voice comes out tight, “you know i killed a guy with a bayonet once .. stabbed him right in the fuckin’ neck.”

you pause, then pull off with a wet pop, blinking up at him. “why the fuck would you say that while your dick is in my mouth?”

he groans, breath shuddering. “fuck if i know. just—tryin’ not to cum in the first five gotdamn seconds.”

“try harder .. ”

you go back down on him without waiting, bobbing your head slowly letting spit build up so every stroke’s sloppy. he twitches, hips jerking once, and the car veers a little to the left. you suck harder, “fuck me—fuck me runnin’, that mouth—”

“you got any idea how many dirty fuckin’ dreams i’ve had about this? a pretty little mouth stretched over my cock while i try not to crash? i used to jerk off to shit like this in the barracks.”

you hum around him, gagging once when he thrusts up too hard. your hand shoots to his thigh to keep him steady and he grips the wheel harder, shoulders tense. “fuck, don’t you dare stop—feels too good. been waitin’ for this since that gotdamn diner when you bent over in that tight little dress and smiled like you didn’t know what the fuck you were doin’ to me.”

you choke a little, spit leaking from the corners of your mouth, dripping down his cock and your chin. “you fuckin’ knew. knew exactly what you were doin’. dressed like that, sittin’ pretty in the booth like a fuckin’ pin-up. and now you’re down there takin’ me like a gotdamn champ.”

you gag again, eyes watering, but you don’t stop. your hand jerks what your throat can’t take, quick strokes between each pass of your mouth. his cock pulses hard against your tongue and he lets out a ragged, distressed sound

“i swear to fuck, sweetheart—one more suck like that and i’m blowin’ this load all over your fuckin’ face. don’t test me.”

you pull back again, breathing heavy, drool stringing from your lips. “then cum .. but i’m not lettin’ go. you’re gonna have to crash before i pull out.”

he groans and thrusts up into your mouth again, harder. your jaw aches but you open wider, letting him fuck your throat in short, desperate pumps.

“take it—fuckin’ take it, mouth’s made for this shit—”

his hips jerk, his cock throbs once, then again, and hot cum floods your mouth in thick pulses. you choke but swallow it down, gagging once but refusing to let up until he’s done.

you pull off slowly, spit and cum smeared on your lips, and wipe it away with the back of your hand, looking up at him, as he still focuses on the road with red eyes and a heaving chest.

“so,” you say, voice scratchy, “how’s driving in the modern age feel now?”

he huffs, dragging a hand through his hair. “feels like i need a fuckin’ cigarette and a nap.”

you grin and nudge his leg with your wet hand. “you earned the cigarette .. but we’re hittin’ the freeway next.”

“jesus christ.”

he zips up, muttering something under his breath about you being the real weapon of mass destruction, but you can already see his cock twitching again through the denim.

he’ll get the hang of the road eventually, but not before you suck him off in at least two more intersections.

#tags below

@soldiersgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @bruisedfig @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @bocadelinfierno @sunnyteume @bejeweledinterludes @zepskies @k-slla @lunaleah @pieandflannel @liiiilsss @that-stanford-girlie @lanasgirlfr @angelicjackles @mostlymarvelgirl @nymphet-quenn @thesevnthseal

[marchsfreakshow]

Make Up Sex

MDNI | cw: !smut!; sexual content; fluff; dominance; rough sex; throat fucking; finger fucking; S&M; creampie; slight dubcon; spanking; hair pulling; biting; marking; choking; light praise; heavy degrading; icky icky icky

(Take this since I'm stuck on A Desperate Man. lmk if you wanna be taglisted for Soldier Boy)

He's so pretty though, imma bust

You fucked up.

Big time.

Butcher and Hughie aren’t even trying to save you from this one—and truthfully, there’s nothing to save you from.

Ben’s silent. That cocky, smart-mouthed supe hasn’t said a word since the argument. But you feel the anger rolling off him in waves. Cold, calculated, brooding. He’s mad—everyone knows it—but he won’t acknowledge you. Not until the day’s over.

What did you do? You undermined him. Simple as that.

It was a minor disagreement—how to go after the TNT Twins. Your plan was better. Cleaner. He didn’t like that. You pushed, he postured, and you didn’t stop yourself when the venom came.

“You’re just a cocky fucking asshole compensating for the two-inch power tower between your legs. No wonder you only please old, wrinkly cunts.”

It hit hard. And now, here you are—frozen out.

He would've slapped Hughie silly for saying half of that. But you’re not Hughie. He won’t hit you. He won’t even yell.

He’s going to teach you.

Because you're the one person who's ever tried to understand him since Butcher brought him back—and he’s not about to lose that. Your outburst pissed him off, sure. But it also turned him on.

He had to walk away before he fucked you against the nearest tree.

Now, he’s enjoying your squirming. The way you sigh, bite your lip, stare at the ground like it’ll give you answers. You hate being ignored—and he knows it.

When they vote to leave you behind—no Temp V, no backup—you don’t argue. You sit like a kid in time out. Watching smoke rise from the ruins, heart in your throat.

Then you see Homelander fly off.

Your stomach drops.

You sprint toward the wreckage, leaping over bodies, debris, anything that dares to slow you down. You find them—Butcher, Hughie, Ben—sprawled across the rubble. Heart pounding, knees hitting the ground, you grab Ben’s face like you could somehow check for injuries that’d matter.

“Ben? Are you okay? What happened?”

He stares at you for a beat—then his hand fists in your hair and his mouth crashes against yours.

Your eyes widen for a moment, before you melt into it... just before he pulls away and leaves you breathless. He's on his feet before you can even process it.

"You're not off the hook."

You, Hughie, and Butcher all glance at one another as Ben walks off, unreadable.

“Good luck with that one, love,” Butcher mutters with a chuckle before walking away.

You hand Hughie the bag of clothes and trail after them—after him—like a lost puppy.

By nightfall, you finally find out what he meant.

The second you step into his room, he doesn’t even look at you.

“Kneel.” He points to the floor in front of him.

Your throat tightens. You shut the door behind you and step forward slowly.

“Ben—”

“I said kneel.”

You drop to your knees.

“You think you can disrespect me and get away with it?” he mutters, slowly unbuckling his belt.

“Ben, I’m sorry—”

“I didn’t say you could speak.”

He shoves his pants and boxers down, cock springing free—definitely not two inches.

“Open.”

Not a request. A command.

You obey. Mouth open, eyes wide, and he wastes no time. He thrusts into your throat with no warning, one hand tangled in your hair as you gag around him. A broken moan rips from your throat, tears brimming instantly. He holds your head there, shallowly fucking your throat with slow, bruising strokes that burn.

“Look at you. Taking it like a champ. What a filthy little slut.”

He only pulls back when the tears ruin your mascara, yanking you up by the throat.

“Gonna make sure you never talk to me like that again.”

You barely breathe before he tosses you onto the bed. Flips you. Yanks your jeans down with no finesse. You gasp, but it doesn’t matter—he shoves two fingers inside you, rough and deep, fucking you with them like you’re nothing but a toy.

You’re whining, desperate—and just as you’re about to come, he pulls away and slaps your ass, hard enough to sting.

Then he’s inside you in a single, brutal thrust.

No warning. No pause. Just pain and pleasure colliding as he grabs the back of your head and slams into you over and over.

“You disrespect me again, and I’ll fuck you harder. And I won’t let you cum. You got that, you little shit?”

“Y-Yes—fuck, Ben, please—”

“Tsk. No begging. You asked for this.”

He hauls you up by your hair, one hand still around your throat, holding you to him as he pounds into you. Relentless. Vicious.

Your mascara’s ruined. Your legs are shaking. Your face is soaked with tears.

“Who do you belong to?” he growls, breath hot against your ear. “Say it. Say it and maybe I’ll let you cum on my cock like the little cumslut you are.”

“You. I belong to you, Ben,” you sob, barely able to speak.

“Fuck. You’re lucky you beg pretty, you little bitch.”

His lips and teeth find the hollow of your throat. Leaving bite marks, hickeys, and filthy kisses on your skin. Marking you as his.

He thrusts harder. Deeper. Until you shatter around him, crying out his name. He doesn’t stop. He keeps going until he’s emptying inside you, filling you until it drips down your thighs.

He doesn’t let you fall.

He keeps you pressed against him, his grip loosening on your throat just enough to breathe. He turns your tear-streaked face toward him—and kisses you softly.

“Don’t disrespect me like that again. Got it?”

You nod weakly.

He kisses your temple.

“I love your annoying ass, you know that. Now come on… let’s get you cleaned up.”

[marchsfreakshow]

suggestive ; mdni

you always liked climbing on top of your boyfriend when he’s been sleeping too long and you’re bored. he stirs beneath you as you settle, brows knitting, lashes fluttering with the slow churn of returning consciousness. you lower yourself gently, mindful with your knees so as not to rouse him all at once. there’s a dried ribbon of drool caught at the edge of his mouth, and an indent carved into his cheek from the pillow. beautiful.

he mumbles something unintelligible when you redistribute your weight. the body responds before thought can intervene, as you can now feel him begin to thicken beneath the cotton of his sweats, stirring slow to life. “mm… am i dreaming?” a warm palm skates up your thigh in a blind search before settling on your waist. go still for a moment, like he’s grounding himself with the shape of you. “you tell me.” spoken noncommittally, while pressing your lips to his neck.

“too tired?” sneaking in another kiss beneath his ear. “never f’you,” he slurs, and there’s that grin, the one you always fall for—goofy, drunk on you. his cock swells fully now, twitching beneath the fabric.

“just gonna let you do all the work, baby. s’all you.” leaning in, your lips graze the hinge of his jaw, trailing downward across the column of his throat until your mouth closes over the swell of his adam’s apple. he groans low in his chest, lips part like he might say something clever, but you grind down again.

“shiiit,” he croaks, blinking up at you. eyes fully open, the dazed warmth behind them cuts through whatever sleep was left. “yeah—okay. m’up now.”

[marchsfreakshow]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Hughie's the first to clock it. He can't prove it, but he knows. Soldier Boy has the emotional range of a brick except when you're in the room. If you get too close to danger, it becomes personal to him.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ If Butcher ever found out, you'd be toast. When you bring it up to Ben, he shrugs, lights a joint, and mutters, “I’ll kick his limey ass.” He means it. He’s not afraid of Butcher, and he’d burn bridges for you, no hesitation.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He doesn’t sleep well but will knock out faster if you’re touching him. He gets peace of mind when your arm is draped over his hip, and your leg rests between his thighs.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ In bed, he'll grip your waist, thumbs dragging under the hem of your shirt. His palm splays wide on your sides, stroking lines up and down.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Frenchie and Kimiko walked in on you once. You were perched on the bathroom sink, legs wrapped around Ben's waist while he shaved. Frenchie smacked a palm to his forehead. “I knew you liked ‘em dangerous, but mon dieu, he’s a walking war crime!" Kimiko dragged him back out by the arm, eyes wide like that was not our business. They never said a word about it.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Ben gives you his dog tags as a token. You find them on your pillow one morning, still warm from his skin. You wear them under your shirt.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Sometimes, after a bad mission or a trigger from his past, he gets quiet and stares at nothing. You’ve learned to sit close, press your forehead to his shoulder, and wait. He always comes back to you.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Once, when you were patching up a gash on his side, he looked at you real soft and murmured, “You’re the only damn thing in this world I’d bleed for.”

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

This man is delish.