Jensen Ackles as Beau Arlen | Big Sky Season 3, BTS [x]
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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DEAR READER
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
YOU ARE THE REASON
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Jensen Ackles as Beau Arlen | Big Sky Season 3, BTS [x]
x p!link ౨ৎ
dating soldier boy? yeah, he’s very reluctantly letting you strip down all his walls until he’s nothing but the young boy he was before he got injected with V; a boy who craves nothing but gentleness and the love he never got.
ben clings to you, his rough hands wrap around your body, kneading into your doughy skin as he guides you to fuck yourself on his cock. your sopping cunt hugs around his thick manhood, squeezing and clenching at every broken moan that escapes his mouth.
“shit, yeah. that’s it, babydoll. you got it. doin’ so well for me,” he rasps, his voice a deep gravelly murmur and his words laced with not only desire, but desperation too.
he needs his skin against yours—he needs to know you’re here, that you’re with him. he needs the physical reaffirmation that you’re his and that he’s the only one who can make you feel this good.
that’s why he fucks you with so much love, so much adoration in his heavy-lidded eyes as he watches your fucked-out face scrunch and contort in ecstasy.
he keeps his grip tight on your hips, your waist, and your neck because he never wants to let you go. he wants to be with you forever. you’re entirely drunk on each other, swimming in the love and pleasure that builds between you.
but you’re just as crazy about him too. the way he pounds into you with his dangerous stare makes you melt in his big buff arms. all you can do is whine and babble, begging him for more.
and he gives it, cause you’re his sweet little babydoll. he’d do anything for you.
skin-to-skin contact is very important to soldier boy.
after being kidnapped and locked away for forty damn years—isolated from any human contact—feeling your skin against his is crucial and an absolute nonnegotiable when he’s driving himself into your comforting slick folds.
ben’s chest is against yours, every time, his weight pressing you straight down into the mattress. he doesn’t care if it’s a little suffocating for you; he needs it. needs you.
he buries his face in your neck; his deep rough grunts reverberate around the room and into your ear, making you whine in response and arch up into him in the way he simply just adores.
the feeling of your soft skin against his soothes the years of his solitary suffering, completely grounding him and pacifying the dark traumatic memories that haunt his body and soul—even if it’s just for a little bit.
he tangles his legs with yours, almost holding them hostage. every part of him is pressed against you while he plunges his member in as deep as you can take him. he has no regard for your wellbeing when he gets like this, working you into a whimpering little ball beneath his firm ‘n tough frame, pounding you into the mattress with his relentlessly harsh strokes.
you don’t seem to care though, you claw up his back—well, not really—but your nails dig and dig and dig into his skin, a physical demand for more, whilst also a plea to slow down his torturous pace.
you’ve heard ben say he wishes you could mark him the way he marks you—bruising your skin with his mouth and hands, the skin of your hips and ass always a deep pink or purple shade, speckled bruises in the shape of his splayed hand or fingertips, evidence of the intensity he feels for you.
when he finally reaches his release, he collapses on top of you, going completely boneless as he softens inside your gummy walls, panting so deeply and huskily it makes you flutter around him from the butterflies in your stomach.
you can beg all you want, but he’s not getting up. not until he feels he’s had enough of you; enough of your body pressed against his; enough of your scent and your sweet little sounds filling his ears.
not until he knows that you’re there with him and you’re staying, not abandoning him like everybody else has.
Dean Winchester SUPERNATURAL — 1.04 "Phantom Traveler"
Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy | Antony Starr as Homelander | Valorie Curry as Firecracker THE BOYS (2026) | 5.05 – “One-Shots”
─── ♡ dean winchester x f!reader | he’s got hands that make hell seem cold
(+18; MDI)
You could write a whole essay on Dean’s hands. You have never been to college, but you would definitely need more than 1,000 words or whatever the word limit was because you’d fill it up in a heartbeat.
Dean’s hands were your favorite part of him, and that was saying a lot, because you liked Dean a lot. All of him.
But his hands.
He talked a lot with his hands, but not just gesturing, he always found a way of expressing everything he couldn’t say with his mouth through his hands. And you’ve learned to read that like any other language – a secret language just for you to know.
The way he would tap his fingers against his thigh whenever he was seated meant he was nervous or impatient.
The way he’d grip the steering wheel of the Impala too hard told you he was angry.
The way he would brush his fingers around the edge of his coffee cup several times revealed he was overthinking.
The way he’d curl his fingers into a tight fist when someone dared to touch a hair on your head, or even just looked at you the wrong way.
The way he’d clean his guns with quiet precision, his own ritual to prepare, almost meditation-like, before a hunt.
And there were also secret messages in the way he touched you.
He’d casually press his palm against your lower back or brush his fingers against yours just to double check you were there, that you were real – especially after he’d been to Hell and back, literally.
The way he would cup your face between his hands after a fight just to ensure there weren’t any injuries.
Whenever it was just the two of you riding Baby, or sometimes with Sam on the backseat, Dean would reach for your knee or thigh on your side of the car and keep his right hand there. Not in a possessive way, just grounding – his way of making sure you stayed right at his side.
When you shared a bed on whatever crappy motel you were staying at during a hunt, and you were feeling a bit overwhelmed thanks to the day’s horrors, he’d wrap you in his arms and his hands would absentmindedly play with your hair or draw circles on your shoulder – his silent way of soothing you, of telling you 'I've got you, baby. Everything will be all right'.
Sometimes, while you two slept, his hands would travel to your stomach and pull you in, keeping you as close as possible to his own frame.
Other times, when he was on top of you, kissing you stupid, his hands would roam throughout your whole body, as if he was trying to memorize every curve, every indentation, every freckle, every scar.
And he had succeeded, he knew your body like second nature, as if he had been made for it, to touch it, to worship it.
He would brush his thumb against your lower lip, while locking his pretty, piercing green eyes with yours, asking for permission – as if you could ever say no to him.
He’d trail the path from your neck to your core painfully slowly because Dean never rushed. He took his sweet time to work on your body as if every touch might be the last, and he wanted to embed every reaction or sound he pulled out from you in his brain, forever.
Needless to say, his fingers always made you see stars. Whether from rubbing circles on your clit or sliding in and out of you, in those moments, you thought you were as close to Heaven as you’ll ever be.
And Dean’s hands were always warm. You didn’t know how even in winter, after hours of driving through snow-covered backroads with Baby’s heater barely working, his hands still managed to stay warm, alive. You had teased him about it and he’d replied ‘Guess I’m just hot-blooded, sweetheart. Comes with being this damn irresistible.’, accompanying it with his classic flirtatious grin.
And you actually couldn’t see any flaws in his logic. His warmth was able to ignite a fire inside of you that made Hell seem like the Antarctic.
Dean’s touch wasn’t just affection, it brought comfort. His hands anchored you; they scorched away every fear, every nightmare, every monster.
You loved the way his calloused hands not only held yours, but also stories, memories, promises, love.
And even if the world ended, and the monsters you've fought tooth and nail against finally won, you know you’d still find his hands in the afterlife—still warm, still reaching for you.
BIG EFFING YES TO ALL OF THIS!!! 😍🔥
Give me all the odes to Dean's perfect hands as you can. I'll die happily here 🫠
New Soldier Boy promotional photo
Soldier Boy Fic Recs
Below is a list of Soldier Boy fics I've read, some I haven't, and some that people have recommended on the behalf of others! Please check these out when you're in the mood for some grumpy danger grandpa and give some love to these writers!
Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy | Valorie Curry as Firecracker THE BOYS (2026) | 5.03 – “Every One of You Sons of Bitches”
(eeecat)
Jensen Ackles | JIBCon 2026 (Rome, April 26, 2026)
Jensen Ackles | Critics’ Choice Awards 2014
Jason Teague in episode 4.21
Jensen Ackles | Atlanta Convention, SNS (March 4, 2023) [x]
Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy | Susan Heyward as Sister Sage THE BOYS (2026) | 5.04 – “King of Hell”