arazialotis

[arazialotis]

*sigh* guess we have to do this then

[arazialotis]

Holy Hells, this was hot!!! 🔥 🔥 🥵 Your writing and drawing the reader in is just *chef's kiss*. The way you built up that glorious tension at the beginning just to have it all crash and melt perfectly together at the end. And now, for some reason, I am craving copious amounts of coffee this evening. I can't wait to read more of your work!

Fix Your Attitude

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: (Y/n) is just like an other woman trying to function in this fucked up world - and she's starts her day with coffee. At least that was always the plan until Dean interfered.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fingering, PinV, slightly Dom! Dean, and if you squint there's maybe possessive/jealous Dean

MDNI! 18+

Word Count: 4470

A/N: So this is technically my first ever one shot! Woop! I've written this as part of my competition from a few weeks back, and this is for the wonderful winner @spookyysinsanity ! Hope you enjoyyy.

“Seriously, Dean? What the actual fuck!?” The audacity of the older Winchester brother had me throwing my hands up in frustration, my irritable tone bouncing off the walls in the kitchen and landing on ears that couldn’t possibly care any less.

“Should’ve got here sooner, sweetheart. You know how it is; first come first serve,” he tauntingly raised his coffee mug to my dishevelled figure standing over the empty coffee pot. The lack of caffeinated bean-water had brought a panic-sweat to my temples, knowing all too well how things would pan out if I didn’t get what I needed.

“How many cups have you had?”

“What?” He blinked frustratingly slowly - he knew what I’d asked.

“Jerk - I said ‘how many cups have you had’?”

“Hmmm…” he tapped his finger against the side of the mug, lips pursing over feigned thoughts.

“DEAN.”

“Maybe… three?” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly - although the nonchalant bubble popped when a sly smirk slipped through the cracks. My mouth opened and closed a few times, words forming and disappearing too rapidly through my mind to even make it past my lips as desperation sizzled into rage.

“You DICK!”

“Hey don’t yell at me - just make another pot,” he held his hands up defensively.

My eyes flitted over to the empty tin on the side - an empty tin left tauntingly in plain sight.

“You know damn well I can’t do that! We’re out of coffee, totally out. Zilch. Nothing. Empty.”

“Well,” he lifted his mug to his lips, “not totally empty.”

“What do you- oh…OH,” I felt my razor sharp glare zero in on the mug at his lips - there had to be at least half a cup in there with how little he had to tilt it up before taking a gulp. I took a step forward and jabbed my finger towards the prize.

“Give me that.”

He offered me nothing but raised eyebrows and a loud slurp.

“Dean.”

Again, silence only echoed back, however my frustration towards him started to buzz in my head as he slowly lowered the mug to unveil a slap-worthy grin.

“DEAN.”

He gently placed the mug on the table and turned to me, large arms crossing over his broad chest as he settled in his chair, thighs spreading wide for comfort.

“Wow, I thought I was grouchy in the mornings before coffee but damn, sweetheart you’re really claiming first place with that one.”

I took a step closer, my eyes practically burning a hole in the cup next to him on the table. His grin widened as he noticed me stalking forwards, like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. However my prey was incredibly suspecting and, in all honesty, not really prey at all. My bare feet padded quietly towards him, each tentative step raising more suspicion in Dean as my desperation for caffeine became all-consuming and my honed hunting skills became sloppy. I gave myself away when I tore my gaze from the mug and glanced over at Dean, catching his amused smirk and playful eyes before I lunged forward, hands grasping at air where the liquid-treasure should have been. Spinning on my heel after almost colliding with the table I turned to face Dean, now standing a few steps behind me with one hand wrapped around the ceramic and the other dipping lazily into the pocket of his jeans.

“Come on darlin’ you’re better than that.”

“Fuck you.”

A low whistle floated in the air between us before he tutted at me, shaking his head slowly.

“So mean.”

“Says you!”

“Hey I got here first - I'm the victim here. You're the one trying to rob me.”

“Don't play that game - you are not the victim here. All of your bullshit has been calculated,” I narrowed my eyes up at him as he traced his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Maybe it has been. Not much you can do about it now though is there?” His eyes glinted like the tricksters before he took another gulp of his coffee. I could feel my palms growing sweaty in apprehension, knowing all too well that the coffee level was dropping inside that cup.

Time to try a different approach. Something more… tactical.

“You know…” I pulled a lock of hair between my fingers, twirling it around, “you're my favourite Winchester.”

I paused and he raised his eyebrows, suspecting yet silently urging for more.

“Sam is just so nice and tall but…” I quietly stepped towards him, inwardly cheering when he made no attempt to move away.

“But?”

“But I mean look at you, so ruggedly handsome… and with that authentic ‘tough guy’ personality to make all the ladies swoon. And don't even get me started on these broad shoulders and big arms of yours…” I padded around him, tracing a single finger delicately up one arm, over the back of his shoulders and down the other arm. I almost missed the small shiver that ghosted over his skin and raised the hairs on his exposed forearms.

“Oh, so you like what you see?” He raised an eyebrow, his voice subtly dropping to a deeper tone.

I chewed my bottom lip slightly before stopping in front of him, a hair's breadth away. From here I could smell the masculine scent of his cologne - the same one I'd only ever known him to wear - and the subtle, intoxicating scent of leather and gunpowder. Combined, those three items were the very essence of Dean, the warmth of it all clinging to his clothes and practically seeping from his pores. I couldn't stop myself from taking a deep breath and letting the hypnotic scent travel straight to my brain. He’d always smelt divine, but I was never going to give him the satisfactory access to that information.

Upon tilting my head up to lock eyes with him, I could feel his coffee-scented breath fan over my face, the smell of what I wanted most almost making my mouth water. I couldn't let myself become enveloped in the addictive haze around him - I needed to remember what I was here for without letting myself become distracted.

Evergreen eyes flitted between mine, unsure of my next move. But the more I looked into them, the more dilated his pupils became. I couldn't help but grin a little to myself, relishing in his reaction.

“Come on Dean, just hand over the coffee. I know deep down that you really want to…”

He hummed, the sound a little gravelly as it emanated from his chest.

“You see sweetheart,” he smirked a little as he gripped the mug, lifting it to his lips. The action immediately caused me to take an urgent step forwards, a part of me truly believing that he would drain the cup right there and then. He must've seen the panic jolt through me as he released a small, breathy laugh.

“I see what?”

“You see… I don't think it's coffee that you need to stop being such a bitch in the morning.”

My eyes immediately narrowed towards him at his choice of words. He can make it so easy to look past his good looks when he acts like such an ass.

“What the actual fuck does that mean?”

“Oh I think you know what it means.”

“Fuck you, Dean.”

“If you want.”

“Go to- wait what?” I felt my heart leap in my chest, my mind unsure if I wanted to have heard him correctly.

His smirk spread across his face as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his mossy green gaze dragging over my figure as though I were totally naked.

“You heard me,” he took a step forward, his boots heavy on the hard kitchen floor. My cheeks burned, and I wasn't sure if it was from whatever scandalous thoughts of him I'd pushed to the back of my mind that I never intended to humour, or the rage bubbling to the surface at the sheer audacity from him, thinking I'd just accept this sort of shitty attitude.

“You’re crazy if you think that I’d let you in my pants,” the bewilderment in my voice was evident, and so was the growing frustration. This conversation had taken a wild turn and it’s safe to say that I didn’t like the direction it was headed. It was a rocky path of buried desires and a cocky male ego - a male ego that somehow knew what buttons to press to get my temper sizzling.

“Oh but sweetheart I could make it so good…” his voice was like caramel, becoming harder to ignore as he took another step forward, backing me into the table. I swallowed the almost nervous lump that had started to form in my throat, my heart rate quickening with every second he looked at me with those darkening eyes.

“And why would you want to do that?” I did well at hiding the slight nervous wobble in my voice. He chuckled slightly before breaking eye contact and looking down at his boots, thinking for a moment before shooting his eyes back to me, his intense gaze burning into mine.

“Because for once, I’d love to see that smart mouth of yours moan my name.”

I couldn’t stop that small gasp that escaped between my parted lips at his sudden bold statement, and that small gasp seemed to be all that it took to invite Dean in. In one fluid movement he drained the remainder of the coffee into his mouth and took a final step forward, closing the gap between us and wrapped a single strong arm around my waist, pulling me firmly against his body. His other hand quickly discarded the mug before grasping my face, his thumb pushing into my cheek and urging me to open my mouth. Before I was able to conjure a single thought he’d pulled my mouth to his, his plush lips covering mine before transferring that mouthful of coffee over to me. My eyes widened at the sudden appearance of warm liquid gliding over my tongue, the flavour of coffee, sweetened with sugar, would have soothed my senses if it wasn’t for the way it was administered. I hurriedly swallowed it down, not caring for the trickle that escaped the corner of my lips, now more preoccupied with Dean Winchesters mouth pressing onto mine. He allowed one… two… three heated kisses before pulling away, leaving me gasping and gripping the edge of the table for dear life. As he pulled away, he released his grip on my jaw, spotting the trickle of coffee and catching the droplets with his thumb. I didn’t intend to dwell on the action too much, at least not until he pushed his coffee-coated thumb past my lips and into my mouth, pressing lightly on my tongue. Still taken aback by the kiss, I stared up at him dumbly, my mind simultaneously racing whilst emptying itself of all logical thoughts. On instinct, I licked the coffee from his thumb, hearing a gruff hum of approval from him.

“Look at you - quiet for once.”

Before I could retaliate to his comment he pulled his thumb from my mouth and grasped my jaw again, a little softer this time as he guided my face to his. His lips grazed mine as he spoke.

“Have you finished acting like a bitch?”

I nodded.

“Are you sure? Because I think I should fuck you on this table here - just to be sure.”

The involuntary shiver that shimmied down my spine gave my innermost thoughts away when Dean noticed it; another smirk gracing his lips as he pulled himself between my knees and grasped under my thighs to lift me onto the table. I hissed slightly as the cold surface bit at my bare rear, the oversized Metallica t-shirt doing nothing to shield me as it rode up on my hips. There was a short moment, like a breath taken and held as we paused to look at each other. His eyes darkened like a forest at dusk, piercing into my own before studying my lips. I found myself doing the same to him, watching how his gaze darted up and down, frantic to find a focal point on my face whilst his lips parted, tongue poking out to wet them. We shared each other's hot coffee-scented breath, my heartbeat starting to echo in my ears as my blood began to run hot at the thought of him taking me right here on this table. He chewed slightly on his bottom lip, the fantasies of my own prurient mind running rampant at what that mouth was capable of doing to me. What I undeniably wanted it to do to me. Before another thought appeared he hastily leaned in and planted a searing kiss on my neck, his stubble tickling my ear whilst one large, strong hand planted itself just below my shoulder blades; his whole arm crushing me against him. Everything he did made me want to purr. His lips exceeded expectations as he kissed red-hot paths up and down my neck; my skin prickling when he pressed his lips below my ear and jaw, pulling pathetic whimpers from my lungs. He kneaded the silky-soft flesh of my thigh with his other hand, eventually causing me to gently hook my legs around him to ease the desperate need to writhe at his every touch.

“Dean…” his name left my lips as an airy gasp when the hand on my thigh travelled up, his thumb hooking under the waistband of my panties.

“What happened to that big, tough girl persona? Can’t really take it huh?” His taunting words went straight to my brain when he spoke them with his lips pressed right to my ear.

“Fuck, Dean… I hate you.”

He chuckled, placing a kiss on my cheek before uttering over my lips:

“Of course you do, sweetheart.”

As his sentence ceased as his mouth claimed mine, muffling the moan bubbling in my throat as his tongue pushed against my own. I reached one hand up to tug on his hair, dragging my nails across his scalp when the strands at the base of his skull were too short to grasp. He groaned into the kiss, lips moving faster at the sensation of my fingertips. His broad chest became a resting spot for my other hand, the taught muscle flexing beneath soft skin as I glided my delicate fingers up to clutch his shoulder. It was like being in a trance; the only thing I was capable of thinking about was him. Dean. The strength of his hand on my back contrasting the tenderness of the one on my thigh. The heat of his mouth, his tongue on mine, consuming my gasps and ragged breaths. His devouring reduced me to naught but lustful putty in his arms, especially when an assured hand slid from my hip to my ribs and a gentle thumb smoothed over the softness of the underside of my breast. The feather-light touch caused goosebumps to erupt on my skin, the warmth of his palm doing nothing to soothe them away. When a groan passed my lips at his actions, he gripped tighter, my legs instinctively pulling him closer. This time it was Dean that groaned, as pulling him towards me had pressed the ever-growing bulge in his jeans against the soft cotton of my panties. The sensation was electric, igniting the fiery ache between my legs as my thighs twitched when he didn't pull away - instead pushing himself against me harder. I sucked in a breath where I could, his lips refusing to leave mine, even to let me breathe. He was hungry. Animalistic. Dominating. I don't know what I'd been imagining when I was alone in my room in the depths of night, but this… this was something I'd never fantasised about. How commanding he was, how he pulled me in with stern words and an air of authority. Gone was the boyish charm and playful pickup lines - this was something that could easily suck me in and pull me under. He could drown me in sharp comments and tantalising games.

And I would let him.

“Look at you, twitching like a virgin,” he pulled away enough to huskily speak against the corner of my mouth. I moaned slightly, biting my lip when his thumb moved from the underside of my breast to my nipple, delicately toying with the perky skin.

“Who's to say I'm not?” My voice was more breathy than I'd anticipated, my head lolling back when he started to trail kisses down my neck again. My comment pulled a laugh from his chest, the sound almost cutting through the sexual haze.

“Oh darlin’, don't think I don't know about your motel room escapades - I was always in the room next to yours,” he finally pulled back slightly to look at me, the cool air flooding between us in his absence. As my eyes met his, my heart hammered in my chest at the raw blackness of his irises - pupils blown wide with hot arousal and leaving no soft greens in sight. I could feel my cheeks heating up with embarrassment, realisation creeping in. Dean took it all in with a grin on his lips.

“That's right sweetheart - I heard it all. Every little noise you made when those jerk-offs touched you. When they tried to make you feel good,” his smile faltered slightly before he leaned in a little closer, “but you know, I never heard any of them make you cum. I only ever heard you finish when they were gone and you were all alone.”

He pressed more of those red-hot kisses just below my jaw, the hand on my breast descending, trailing a path down the soft skin of my abdomen before disappearing down the front of my panties. A moan tore from my throat when he slid his skilled fingers through my folds to gather my pooling wetness, his hum of approval ringing in my ears when my mind emptied at his fingers tracing circles around my clit. My grip on him was vice-like, whimpers already tumbling off my tongue.

“You know (Y/n), you should've just come to me. You should've told those useless bastards to fuck off and let me do everything you needed me to do,” his breath was hot against my neck as he spoke, and he finished his sentence off by finally pressing a rough finger against my clit. I whined like a bitch in heat as he went around and around and around, making me clench around nothing and crave him in his entirety.

“I would've done this to you every night - made you forget everything but my name.”

“Dean…”

“Thas’right sweetheart. Never would've left you unsatisfied.”

“Please, Dean… please… I need you to fuck me,” my words were desperate and I could tell he relished in that, suddenly plunging two thick digits inside me without so much as a word. My hands flew to his back, nails digging into broad muscle as I leaned into him, burying my flushed face into his neck and breathing in his intoxicating scent. He curled his fingers up and pushed against the pleasure-cushion inside me, knowing exactly what to look for and what to do with it. My legs tightened even more around him as I was unable to stop the euphoric twitches jolting through my limbs. He removed his hand that was pressed below my shoulder blades and lifted it to my hair, unclipping the claw-grip to let the unruliness tumble out. He practically chucked the plastic clip to the table before threading his fingers through my hair, grasping close to my scalp before tugging my head back to make me look at him.

“Now that you've dropped your attitude and asked nicely, I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk.”

He pressed his fingers inside me one final time, drawing another pathetic whimper from my lips before pulling his fingers out and lifting them to his lips. I watched, mouth agape and breaths ragged as he licked my slick from his digits, savouring the taste of me with a satisfied groan.

“That’s the best shit I’ve ever tasted,” his deep, gravelly tone had me reaching desperately for his belt buckle as Dean claimed my mouth again, his own eagerness starting to show. As I finished unzipping his jeans I pushed them down his hips just enough to dip my hand into his boxers and pull his cock free. A deep moan pushed its way into my mouth as I curled my fingers around his length, his size already intimidating as his cock rested hot and heavy in my palm. I wasted no time on gripping him tight, starting gentle motions going up and down again, and again, and again, causing Dean to move both hands to my thighs - his grip on me threatening to leave bruises. I dragged my thumb over his tip, urging a blissful shudder to surge through him as I smeared the gathering precum up and down his length. His lips never once left mine. I could feel him becoming breathless as I slowly increased the speed of my hand, so I caught his bottom lip between my teeth as a means to pull away for a moment. As I breathed in his contented groan, I pulled back slightly further to get a look at his face.

“Dean… Dean please - I need you inside me-”

“Stop fucking around then and c’mere.”

I squeaked a little at his harsh tone, unable to stop the next words from tumbling out.

“Yessir.”

I watched his brows knit together and his eyes almost roll before he dropped his head to my neck, grabbing the underside of my thighs and dragging me right to the edge of the table. With one hand he grabbed his cock and used it to move my underwear to one side before lining up and sinking in. The lascivious moans that spilled from our lips were almost harmonious, Dean pushing in to the hilt and forcing me to wrap one arm around his neck and the other to prop me up behind me - both stopping me from losing my balance under Deans intensity. Dean looked as though he was getting lost in a sexual haze as he crushed me against him again with one arm, having the decency to remain still for a few moments so I could adjust to his size as he eye-wateringly stretched out my insides - the sensation almost burning.

“Jesus- fuck-” his breath was slightly strained as he groaned into my neck, “now I’m mad that you decided to fuck lonely jerk-offs instead of me - with a pussy like this- shit- I would’ve been crawling back for more.”

He started to move slowly, pulling out gently before slipping back in - easing me into it with sexual expertise.

“Oh fuck- Dean- you don’t mean that-”

“(Y/n) you’d have to shoot me to stop me - you feel too fucking good.”

He started to up the tension - dropping every ounce of softness as he lost control of that part of him. He fucked the same way that he hunted monsters: raw, skilful and always in control - my mind racing with the knowledge of how dangerous this man actually was. He was Dean fucking Winchester, and here he was - fucking me over the breakfast table whilst I wore nothing but a band t-shirt. As he pounded into me and the intensity grew I was unable to stop the lewd noises tumbling from my lips. Such lewd noises however seemed to spur Dean on, the power of his thighs and hips inching the heavy wooden table across the floor.

“How are you still so fucking tight-” his words were almost slurred, his sexually inebriated mind seemingly becoming obsessed.

“Shit- Dean, I’m getting close already,” my eyes squeezed shut as I began to feel that familiar knot in the depths of my core. With every thrust he dragged over every over-sensitive nerve ending, unravelling me quicker than I’d even been unravelled before.

“Oh yeah? You wanna cum?”

I nodded my head vigorously, loose strands of hair falling around my face as tears started to well in my eyes. Dean glanced down at me without so much as a stutter in his hips, a slight grin playing on his lips even in a moment like this.

“Tears?”

“Fuck-fuck- you Dean, it's not my f-fault you're the first one to fuck me properly- oh God-”

“Well I'm glad it was me sweetheart,” he tried to keep up the slightly playful tone but I could see in his eyes that he was on the brink as well. Without another word he moved one hand to push lightly on my lower belly, his thumb dipping down to rub soft circles over that oh-so-sensitive bundle of nerves. I gasped at the contact, Dean taking the opportunity to plant uncharacteristically soft kisses on my parted lips before whispering:

“I need you to cum for me - I need you to let go. I've got you darlin’.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The circles drawn with his thumb increased in speed and as did the pounding of his hips against mine.

“Dean- Dean please-”

I could feel him winding that knot tighter, and tighter, and tighter; lifting the euphoria coursing through my veins to its highest peak before the white-hot heat of orgasmic bliss erupted inside me. Wave after wave after wave of pleasure cascaded down, drowning me in the most earth shattering climax I'd ever experienced. I could feel myself tightening repeatedly around Dean, his thrusts becoming frantic before his own release rolled through him.

“Oh Fuck- (Y/n)-”

His guttural groan into the crook of my neck sent a shiver down my spine and goosebumps across my skin, the sound of him cumming making me clench even tighter around him.

“You squeeze me any tighter darlin’ and you're gonna kill me,”

“I-I’m not- I mean- I'm sorry?”

He groaned again when I twitched slightly, this time he pulled back to look me in the eye, taking note of the drying tear-tracks and smudged mascara.

“You good?”

“Y-yeah, I'm good,” I huffed out a deep, contented sigh, "I am so, so good.”

He grinned, the assertiveness from earlier seeming to dissipate and the good ‘ol Dean was returning.

“Best you've ever had?” His green eyes twinkled mischievously.

I playfully slapped his shoulder, not impacting the smirk on his lips whatsoever.

“Easy there cowboy - if your ego gets any bigger there'll be no living with you.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

I chewed on my bottom lip slightly, making him wait a little for the answer before I replied with a grin of my own.

“Yeah, definitely the best I've ever had.”

————————————————————

Taglist: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 10

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 6520

Story Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Chapter Summary: Y/n visits Vancouver to see Jensen and, more importantly, to try to win Jared over.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Warnings: Always language. Grumpy Jared. After dinner, well, it gets NSFW 🌶️🌶️, 18+ Only

Although this is an RPF, these are fabricated characters and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as a coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

----

The black Escalade wove through the Vancouver traffic, the sun beating down, melting the piles of slushy remnants from the first snow. What should have been an eagerly anticipated moment for your arrival was tense. Behind the wheel, Jensen was trying to be the bridge between you and his best friend.

“Lighten up, man. Y/n’s really excited to be out here again and wants nothing more than to hang out and cook us a nice meal.” Jensen pleaded your case.

He, in fact, suggested pizza on the risk of jetlag, but you had insisted, falling back onto the age-old idiom ‘the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.’ You already had one of their hearts, and you were convinced you could make Jared warm up to you, too, if only he saw you as who you were and not as a clingy fangirl. Yet you felt that rift growing every time you saw him. And the last thing you wanted was for Jensen to be caught in the middle.

“Would you try to like her? For me? Please.” Jensen nearly begged when Jared didn’t respond.

At least he was in the car, though Jensen didn’t give him a choice, with this outing as a pretense of drinks after work.

Jensen tried one more time, fed up with Jared’s stubbornness. “At least act nice.”

That got his attention. “Act nice? I’ll play nice if she does.” The accusation hanging heaving.

Jensen furrowed his brow. “Y/n doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.” Okay, you had a bit of a temper, were known to hold a grudge, and had a smart mouth, but Jared didn’t need to know that.

Jared scoffed. “Last time she came out, she literally laughed and criticized me for overacting.”

Jensen’s confusion grew, trying to remember the last time you came out. Then, the realization hit him as the three of you watched the latest episode together in another futile attempt for Jensen to foster peace.

Despite the animosity, Jensen couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, she laughed at a scene and apologized immediately, saying it was hard to take the show seriously now that she knows us. And I said that wasn’t it; it’s probably because you took your acting lessons from Bruce Campbell." His tongue peeked out between his teeth as he attempted and failed to control another giggle, still quite proud of the slight.

“It was a serious scene. I was acting my heart out.” Jared stressed. “You had just gotten back from hell.”

Jensen lost the smile. “In her defense, it does lose its impactfulness after the 17th time.”

“Whatever, man.” Jared pouted, looking out the window.

Jensen rolled his eyes and prayed to any god that would listen. “Would it make you feel better if we watch Devour together after dinner? Then we’ll just laugh at me.”

Jared said nothing, not taking the bait. The clicking of the blinker filled the silence as Jensen waited to turn toward the arrival gates. Jared ran his fingers through his hair as Jensen pursed his lips together, trying to think of something, anything. The light turned green.

“I don’t even know why I am here. Y/n has, like, what, two full days out here? You should be spending it together without having to worry about me third-wheeling. I’m sure there are other things that you would prefer to occupy time you don’t get over Zoom.” Jared rambled out loud.

Jensen’s eyes tightly blinked shut momentarily as he began seeking out an open spot at the curb. Jared was right, of course, only on account of his last thought, but he wouldn’t be at peace until he had the blessing of his best friend. Jensen inhaled through his nose, held his breath, and released through his mouth.

“It is important to me that you and Y/n find some common ground. If you gave her even the slightest chance, I’m positive you would start to like her.” He said calmly as he put the car into park.

“Why does it matter so much to you if I like her?” Jared pushed. To him, you were still only a rebound after Elena.

And then it hit him. Maybe Jared’s denial of his true fear of being replaced had come true.

“Because she’s my best friend and I love her!” He declared and then laughed through the shock.

It was the first time he had admitted it out loud. The silence was palpable as both men processed the weight of the words. Jensen wasn’t one to open up lightly. He felt deeply, but he was always careful with those emotions, cautious even. It had taken nearly two years before he said the same to Elena. Another before they started looking at rings. Maybe because it was one of the first serious relationships he had since the start of his career. The depth and commitment he had felt with her made the falling out that much more disastrous. He had fortified his walls to be higher and more impenetrable. Then you came out of nowhere and shattered everything he thought he knew about himself. He felt like a caged bird learning for the first time how to spread its wings, to feel the breeze on its face, and the warmth of the sun. With you, he felt free.

Jared’s eyes darted back and forth as if reading his thoughts, finding the right response. Jensen squeezed the steering wheel and nodded his head. “I love her.” He said again, the realization hitting him, fully knowing it was true. But then the terror of the statement hit him. The car door shuttered open, and the catapult of a backpack rolling over the seatbench crashing at the other end pulled Jared from his thoughts as you entered the car.

“Hiya!” You squeaked.

You pulled the door close with a thud and clicked on your seatbelt. You cleared your throat, looking up, momentarily afraid you jumped in the wrong car. But it was Jensen and Jared, alright. Jensen stared directly ahead, his face as white as if seeing a ghost. Jared scrutinized his friend. You sank back in your seat. You had thrown yourself directly into something.

Jared turned in his seat, blinking rapidly and addressing you in the most amiable tone he had ever taken with you. “Hi Y/n. Um, would you mind giving us a minute?”

Oh, you had definitely walked into something. It took you a minute to process this, but then you began fumbling with the seatbelt, “Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” And vacated the Escalade as fast as possible.

Jared’s brow furrowed, and he leaned closer to a whisper as you aimlessly knocked your fists together outside on the sidewalk. “You love her?”

He chuckled again and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I really do.”

Jared knew he should be happy for Jensen, knew they should be celebrating this, offering congratulations, but all he felt was dread.

“Have you told her?” Jared asked.

“Nah, you’re the first to know.” Jensen clapped Jared on the shoulder. “I want the moment to be right, you know. I want to be able to remember it for a long time.”

Jared thought about faking it, but he had to be real with Jensen. “You don’t know her.”

That set him off. “Why are you so set against her? Why can’t you be happy for me? I do know her. I’ve known her for seven months, been dating her for 4 of those, and talk to her almost daily.” His voice went up an octave higher. “I don’t know why I have to keep justifying my choices to you, man? When will it ever be good enough for you?”

Jared didn’t take the bait. “But you don’t know her. How can you truly? You haven’t met her friends or her family, and it sounds like her mom is a real piece of work. Are you ready to deal with that?”

Outside the car, airport security approached you. Both boys could tell from your over-exaggerated gestures that you were attempting to buy them more time.

Jared continued. “And no offense, but she isn’t spotlight material.”

“Fuck you.” Jensen's blood boiled over. He was about to leave the car to find another way to get back into the city. At that moment, he never wanted to see Jared again.

“Come on. Give me a break. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Though he kind of did. “All I’m saying is that if you truly are that committed to her, that this isn’t some fling, you should think about preparing her for the kind of attention it will warrant. The good, the bad, and the ugly. That kind of stress and attention can ruin a person.”

Jensen didn’t respond but wrung his hands on the steering wheel. There was a knock on the window.

“Please, know I’m just trying to look out for you,” Jared whispered as he began rolling down the window.

“Nobody asked you to.” Jensen snipped back before the security guard started to chew them out.

As the boys were on the receiving end of a very stern lecture, you slipped as quietly as possible into the back seat to avoid further angering or endangering yourself with security. Yes, spending a night in jail was on your bucket list, but this is not what you had in mind.

“Sorry, officer,” Jensen ended a profuse apology before hightailing it out of there.

You weren’t sure exactly what you missed, but the air hung thick with tension. Nobody spoke. There was only the hum of tires on the road. It hit you that Jensen never even acknowledged you. You fiddled with a loose stitch on the seat in front of you.

After five minutes and starting to get out of airport traffic, you couldn’t handle it anymore. “So…” You drew the word out, unsure how to break into a conversation.

Jensen blinked, realizing you had no reason to be as upset as him and that it was unfair to suffer from their drama, especially when you were not privy to it.

He cleared his throat. “I got the groceries you requested delivered.” However, he didn’t know how the three of you would sit through a dinner together.

“Oh, good! I’m starving. Airport food never really hits the spot, but the Cajun snack mix does kinda slap.” You rambled, trying for anything to get them talking.

They both hmmed in response. You were about to ask them about their favorite airport snack, but thank the gods, it was Jared who surprisingly saved you.

“What’s for dinner then?” He was trying. He had fucked up. He knew it. This was how he could try to make amends with Jensen.

You beamed, having perfectly planned it out, trying to finally win Jared over to your side. “We’ll start with a strawberry, basil, and balsamic whipped burrata and roasted bone marrow. Then, a small lemon watercress-radicchio salad for a palate cleanser before moving on to a butter-basted ribeye accompanied by potatoes au gratin and crispy brussel sprouts with mustard seeds and pomegranate.”

Jared’s stomach rumbled. Goddammit, that sounded good.

“And, I was considering a dessert, but Jensen said I already had enough going on, and because baking isn’t my strong suit, I let him handle the rest.” You explained. “You did handle the rest, didn’t you?”

Jensen's anger melted a little. With a smirk, he said, “Yeah, a tub of vanilla ice cream.”

Your heart dropped. “Stop.” There was a glint of teasing in his eyes as he looked at you through the rearview mirror, but the rest of his face remained deadpan. You couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “Okay, I guess I could repropose what I had in mind for the burrata, and if you have sugar on hand and something salty and crunchy, we could do a quick brittle. Oooh, maybe the cajun snack mix. Or perhaps…”

“Y/n! I’m messing with you. I have an assortment ordered from Thomas Haas.” He winked at you in the mirror.

Thomas Haas meant little to you, but anything would be better than a tub of ice cream. Okay, a tub of ice cream had its time and place, but not when you were working so hard to impress Jared. Still, you eyed Jensen skeptically, unsure if it would measure up.

“Some of the best in Vancouver,” Jared assured. “I’m sure it will compliment your dinner perfectly. I can’t wait. It all sounds very delicious.”

“Hmm.” You looked between the two of them.

There were still too many questions unanswered. What were they talking about before you arrived? Could you trust either of them to select a quality dessert or would you have to resort to brittle anyways? Were you now on a no-fly list due to the tiff with the security guard? When could you get Jensen alone (this stern look painted on his face was doing things you couldn’t control)? But most importantly, why was Jared acting so nice?

“I’ve had bone marrow before, but only in restaurants,” Jared continued. “I didn’t realize it could be done at home.”

“Oh yeah, it’s actually super simple if you can find a good butcher.” You explained.

Jensen interjected. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s been binging The Bear, and now her only goal is to become an Iron Chef.”

You smirked, impressed he even knew what an Iron Chef was. Aside from eating food, anything kitchen-related was the furthest on his interest list. You were rubbing off on him.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “It’s the easiest cheat code appetizer if you want to impress someone. You toast some bread, toss the marrow in the oven for twenty minutes, and add a few accouterments to a serving board. And bam, done.”

Jared laughed, actually laughed. “I’m sure you are underselling yourself. From what Jensen has told me, you are an excellent cook. I can’t wait to see it all come together.”

Jensen glared at Jared out of the side of his eye, the anger resurfacing. He was laying it on thick. Too thick.

You squinted, eyes darting back and forth between them. This wasn’t going to plan. You were supposed to cook the food and then become BFFs with Jared. This was happening too quickly. But perhaps you should take it for what it was. Maybe you had stuck around long enough for him to finally accept you. Or Jensen had talked you up enough. Whatever the reason, you had to stop ruminating on it. All you had to do was get through dinner. Perhaps after, you could corner Jensen into an explanation.

It wasn’t long until you pulled into the parking garage adjoined to the condos. Jensen popped the trunk, surprised to find it empty.

“Where’s your luggage?” He asked, oblivious as his conversation with Jared required most of his mental capacity.

You held up your backpack as a response, and his brow furrowed with confusion.

“What’s wrong? Are you ill?” He pestered, placing the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Shut up.” You snipped and then explained. “I’m practicing becoming a lighter packer.” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “Besides, I recall not needing much clothing last visit.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows, reminiscing, and then nuzzled his nose into your neck in anticipation of this weekend. Jared, having overheard, rolled his eyes and fought a gag. You laughed as Jensen pulled away, his eyelashes tickling your cheeks. And Jared plastered on his fake smile yet again.

“Let’s get upstairs,” He said. “I’m starving.”

-----

Dinner was coming along nicely. You were basting the last of the steaks in butter, and the boys were watching the end of a game in the living room. The thoroughly cleaned plates on the coffee table were the only lingering evidence that there had been appetizers. You snuck a bit here and there, but it was mostly to keep the two of them from sniffing around the kitchen.

With a final splash of liquid, the steak was done—perfect caramelization and crust. Now, the potatoes. You checked the timer—ten minutes, enough time for the steak to rest. And the Brussels? Shit. You scooped the last of them out of the oil in the nick of time. You generously salted them and would add the pomegranate molasses after plating. Satisfied with how it was all wrapping up, you whipped Jensen’s once pristinely white dish towel over your shoulder. There was a shuffling behind you as you began cleaning what you could.

“Need any help?” Jensen asked.

You were about to shoo him out when you heard the scrape of a knife. You snapped your head around to catch him red-handed. He stared at you like a deer in the headlights, the end of one steak pinched between his fingers and the knife hovering millimeters above. You scowled, and Jensen slowly set the knife down, held his hands in surrender, and backed up.

Your scowl melted into a smile. “A couple of minutes longer. If you’d like to help, you can set the table.”

He straightened. “Yes, chef.”

You playfully stuck out your tongue and whipped the dish towel in his direction, earning an exaggerated yelp.

Finally, after a few minutes passed, you brought the final plate to the table and scooched in. Jensen didn’t hesitate and dove in.

With a full mouth, he mumbled, “If this tastes as good as it…” Then it hit him, and his eyes rolled back in pure delight. “Oh god.”

Jared went in a little slower, cutting his steak and bringing it past his lips. He took several testing bites and paused, glaring at you. He was actually glaring at you. Dropping the act, he’d kept up all night, pissed at how good it tasted. He knew what tonight had been about. About you trying to butter him up, quite literally with butter braised steak. And god dammit. It was a good steak. And he was mad about it.

“Fuck.” Jared cursed aloud, snapping your and Jensen’s attention to him. “Fuck, that’s good.”

You smiled sheepishly, looking down at your plate. “I can’t say I’ve had that reaction before. Not quite as orgasmic as I was hoping for, maybe if I adjusted the…” Your face went pale, realizing the last part was out loud.

Jensen snorted, and Jared even cracked a smirk.

“So, um,” You attempted a recovery. “How was work this week?”

A few minutes of silence passed as Jensen gave Jared a chance to answer. When he didn't and caught him glaring again, Jensen kicked his shin under the table, prompting him further.

Jared grunted. “Well, hours weren't as shitty as usual.”

“Cause Collins hasn't been around.” Jensen teasingly interjected.

Jared chuckled. “Yeah, not as many retakes. Finally, it feels like we're making some progress this season.”

You nodded. The three of you looked back and forth, trying to gauge whether it was appropriate to continue the conversation or return to eating.

“What about you?” Jared coughed before going in for another bite.

“Same old.” You simply stated.

Silverware scraped against plates. A clock ticked in the living room. The sounds of the city rose from the streets. You dabbed the corner of your mouth with the black cloth napkin, then considered it. You’d be willing to bet good money this was the first time Jensen ever pulled them out.

Jensen tried again to spark the conversation again. “Should we talk Vegas?”

Your eyes lit up excitedly, ready to discuss a plan and details.

“So, about that,” Jared started. Jensen didn’t hide his scowl, but Jared's eyes widened, challenging him. “It’s not often we get that kind of time off work, and I’m going to meet Gen in Austin.”

Ah, so dinner wasn’t the wondrous miracle you hoped it would be. You cursed yourself for not trying a Wellington. Jensen reached under the table to graze your thigh, trying to communicate that this had nothing to do with you.

“Why doesn’t she join us?” Jensen shrewdly offered.

Jared’s lips formed a thin line before countering. “Actually, we are going to use the time to do some house hunting.” He hesitated for a minute. “We’ve started talking about, um, the next steps in starting our family.”

Kids? Oh god, Jensen was going to be an uncle. He was already an uncle to Harper’s clan, but this was Jared. All the tension momentarily evaporated as you both offered your excitement and congratulations.

“Yeah, our current setup isn’t going to cut it. We need more space, a yard.” Jared explained. “Y/n, are you interested in kids?”

Jensen choked on the last piece of steak, recovering with a swig of wine. The temporary peace was broken yet again.

“Oh, um.” You stammered, trying to think of a response. Every couple (that was serious, that is) had to come across this question. You just didn’t picture you were there yet with Jensen. And you didn’t picture the conversation would come about this way. “Well, I’ve recently only managed to keep a house plant alive, so maybe the next step is like a cat or something before moving onto a…” You gulped. “A child.”

“Hmm. So you haven’t given it much thought?” He clarified.

“I mean,” Heat was rising to your cheeks. “It might not be my first choice, looking after a little drooling, monstrous carbon copy. Don’t get me wrong, I love being Aunt Y/n to my niece but one of my own. It’s a lot of responsibility and sacrifice and time and money… I don’t know. There’s a lot of benefits, too, I’m sure. You and Gen will be fantastic parents!”

“Interesting.” Jared ignored your last comment. “Wasn’t it in Colorado that you said you’d have Jensen’s babies? Or maybe that’s changed after you got to know him more.” He chuckled a bit, trying to conceal it as a joke.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jensen attempted to shut this down.

“No, I never actually said that.” You talked over him and defended yourself. “Casey, a fan, although more than well-meaning, took several liberties that day. A decision that big should require careful consideration rather than something silly like initial attraction or blind devotion, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” he responded sincerely. “Such as your partner’s thoughts on the issue. Gen and I knew immediately that growing our family was an intention for our relationship. Jensen, you’ve always wanted kids, haven’t you?”

If looks could kill, Jared would currently be en route to the nearest morgue. But then he caught a glance at your wide, curious eyes awaiting an answer. There’s no way he would lie about this. Yet, this was the first time the subject of the long-term future had been broached. He swallowed the lump in his throat with another dose of wine, then threw his napkin on his plate.

“I have always seen my future with one or two kiddos running around.” He spoke softly and slowly. “But if my partner wasn’t on board, there’s no way I’d force that upon them. The two of us would always come first.”

Jared raised his eyebrows and nodded, staying silent as he finished his last bite.

You filled the silence instead, unable to handle the pause in conversation. “Similarly, I would never want to deny my future partner if that was something that was really important to them.”

Jensen closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. This wasn’t a relationship-ending kind of conversation. You did share common ground. And it was each other.

“That seems like a lot of sacrifice.” Jared circled back to the earlier point.

“But what is love?” You asked back.

Jensen whined a high-pitched melody under his breath, “Baby, don’t hurt me,” so over this conversation.

But Jared and you were beyond dialed in.

“You want to define that here, tonight?” Jared pushed. “Scholars, philosophers, religions; they’ve been trying to do that since the dawn of humanity.”

“Many of which have brought it back to sacrifice.”

“And many of which have used that ideal to perpetuate cycles of horrendous abuse.”

You pushed your plate aside, needing the space to talk with your hands. “I’m not denying that. But if you are talking on an individual level about two people in love outside of an institution, there are many components, but sacrifice is usually one of them.”

“So you’re arguing you shouldn’t be happy for the sake of the other person?”

“I’m arguing,” You strained. “Both people in the relationship sacrifice for each other, and not only are they happy to do so, but it is a privilege. You lift each other up and balance the other, and there is a net gain rather than elevating one over the other, becoming nothing more than a mere doormat. Trust me, I’ve been around enough narcissists to understand that never ends well.”

“So that’s your conclusion: love is sacrifice?” Jared asked.

Was he trying to trap you? “Like I said, it’s a component. But at the end of the day, I’d say love is a choice. There’s those initial feelings of lust and excitement and newness that will eventually fade away. And you’ll get on each other’s nerves, and there’ll be tears and fighting, and hell, we all get old, and gravity always wins. There’ll be moments where you have to choose. In fact, there’ll probably be moments where you choose not to. At the end of the day, I’d like to end up with someone who is my best friend above all else because you’ll have that to fall back on when it's hard to love.”

Jared didn’t say it contradictory but as a compliment to your point. “Friendship is its own kind of love.” He looked to Jensen apologetically.

“Very true.” You agreed. “What do you think, Jensen?”

Jensen sighed and shook his head. He stood up to start clearing the table. “It’s a mystery. Sometimes love is just love.”

You began stacking the dishes, bringing them to the kitchen as well. “It defies explanation, logic even.” You added.

Jared grabbed the bottle of wine, refilled glasses, and brought the fresh pour to you. “And definition. It’s the ultimate expression of humanity, isn’t it? To wrestle with complex concepts.”

You chuckled, taking a sip. “I guess that’s based on how you define humanity.”

Jared leaned against the counter. “Well…”

Jensen snapped up from putting plates in the dishwasher. “How about a movie?”

Jared lost his train of thought. “I have kind of been in the mood for The Matrix.”

You beamed. Perhaps this disaster of a night wasn’t ruined after all. It would be the perfect opportunity to bring up simulation theory with Jared. From what Jensen told you, Jared loved debating and theorizing over abstract topics. It would be the perfect foot in. Maybe you could impress him after all.

Jensen caught the mischievous look in your eye. He shook his head. “Don’t…”

But you beat him to it. “That sounds perfect!”

---

Later that night, hours after discussing perceived reality, you hovered over the kitchen sink, scrubbing down the remaining mess. Jared was long gone but thanked you for a pleasant evening. Jensen came up behind you, stripped down to his undershirt and briefs. He pulled your waist to his, wrapping his grasp around your hips, and nuzzled closer.

“Come to bed.” He whispered into your neck.

You half-moaned, leaning into his touch. “I just have a few more.”

“That’s what the dishwasher is for.” He said.

You paused and stiffened. “And ruin the finish on this cast iron? You monster.” Jensen gave a light chuckle before closing his eyes against your skin as you continued. “How do you think tonight went?”

He sighed, chewing it over.

“I know.” You agreed. “I should have done the Wellington.” That earned you a pinch to the side. You yelped. “Not when I’m washing the knives!”

“Honestly,” Jensen started. “I don’t know what to think.”

You took a deep gulp and turned off the faucet before turning to face him. You searched his eyes and ran your pruned thumb against his cheek.

“I don’t want to come between you two.” You strained.

He took your hand and his and glided your knuckles across his lips.

“You’re not.” He whispered.

Your glare pierced him.

Jensen continued. “He’s coming around, albeit slowly.” He added as your gaze held, “I promise.”

Your breath released, and the tension left your body, too tired to challenge him further.

“Come on, off to bed.” He instructed.

But you turned around and yawned, “Only a few more.”

Suddenly, you were swooped up and being carried away from the kitchen. “The rest can wait.”

You hit the mattress, immediately sinking into the plush duvet and feathered pillows. Jensen followed, his warmth and weight wrapping around you. The day's weight full of travel, cooking, cleaning, debating, and worrying all hit you instantly. You closed your eyes, darkness quickly closing in. Yet you couldn’t ignore the lips peppering slow, soft kisses at the edge of your navel.

“Mmmm. Jensen, I’m tired.” You moaned over the response your body had to his touch. His fingers danced along the hem of your shirt, trailing higher. Between kisses, he breathed. “You won’t have to do a thing.”

You popped an eye open and raised an eyebrow, looking down at him through the darkness. The city lights illuminated his features. There was a feral glow in his eyes, waiting for that sweet, sweet permission he longed to hear.

“Are you proposing to use me?” You questioned, rubbing your thighs tighter, seeking pressure to alleviate the quickly growing need.

And he knew it, too. A smirk that would impress even the devil crossed his lips. “That depends,” He brought his hand from your ribs, prying your thighs apart, and you whined in response. “Would you like to be used?”

You nodded even though you could barely keep your eyes open, “Very much.”

He made quick work of your clothing, your lazy attempts to help only impeding the process. The cold air of the condo brushed over your skin, providing temporary alertness as your hair rose and you shivered in response. His hands roamed over you, chasing away the chill, replacing the sharpness with tenderness.

Even as you wrestled sleep from taking you, eyes fluttering close, you could feel his eyes on you. From day one, he made it his mission to study you; taking note of every sharp inhale, every squirm, every crease of the brow. He had been a quick and eager student. His hand gently encouraged your legs apart, his hand roving over your core, parting your very soul as he found his mark. Satisfied, his eyes closed, and his head rested against your chest as he let instinct take over.

Dancing on the edge of sleep yet pulled to the waking world by pleasure, your brain couldn’t comprehend thoughts. The worries of the day, the countless insecurities, the what-ifs, they all melted from your mind. The only thing you knew was touch. It was the only constant. The concept of time faded, and at some point unbeknownst to you, fingers had been replaced with lips.

Incoherent words praised his practiced tongue as thoughts attempted and failed to form meaning. Your hand wound through his hair, gripping to hold him in place as you rocked your hips forward. His arms hooked under your legs, lifting you higher, spreading you farther as he lost his need for air. His only purpose in consuming you.

“Jensen.” You mewled his name as a curse. “Please. God, please.”

Teeth scraped against soft flesh, sending you soaring off that endless cliff. You cried out, a slew of fractured speech. Jensen idly continued as you floated back down to reality. Only as breath returned, hungry for air, did he stop, attempting to catch some himself.

“Turn over,” He instructed through the shallow pants. “On your knees.”

You whined, rubbing your face with your palm. “You said I wouldn’t have to do anything.”

He nipped at your inner thigh. “Brat.”

You lazily smiled until he grabbed your sides and flipped you over himself. That woke you up, but only momentarily as he shuffled behind you, allowing you a minute to bury your head deeper into the pillow.

“Oh, I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

An arm snaked under your diaphragm, and you lost your breath as he pulled you up to a kneel, pinning you against his bare, hard flesh. His hands roamed your curves, already mapped in his mind, desperate to bring to fruition what he had imaged during the month apart. A hand came to your throat, gently squeezing, as he tilted it to the side.

“Color?” He cooed into your ear.

You only moaned, too tired for words, grinding your hips back into him, hoping it would prompt this process further along.

“Use your words.” He softly demanded.

“Green.” You placed a hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder. “So fucking green.”

He buried his mouth into the crook of your neck, claiming you, possessing you, undoing you. But two could play this game. With your free hand, you reached behind you, immediately claiming your prize. You stroked up and down his length, stopping at the apex and rolling your grasp.

“Fuck.” He indulged temporarily before taking your hand, guiding it to the top of the headboard.

Your other hand followed suit as he gripped your hips. You arched your back and swayed side to side, inviting him in or, at the very least, enticing him to hurry.

“Patience has never been your strong suit.” He playfully scolded.

As he knocked your knee with his own, spreading you apart further and lower, he bent down, planting long, deliberate kisses on the small of your back. Your eyes fluttered close yet again, your mind at war with your body, demanding sleep. He neared your entrance, testing at first, then surged forward, completely filling you. You cried out, sparks turning to flame as he flooded you. Over and over, he built pace, seeking his own high.

It was unlike anything you had ever known. Nothing existed outside of this claiming rhythm, outside of this mounting heat, outside of this ecstasy. Your mind was blank. Your mind was numb. He was the only thing you had ever known—the only thing you were created for.

His hand gripped your shoulder, arching you deeper, pulling you more flush against his hardness, hitting the deepest parts of you. Your curses and praise garbled together, moans became mute, and blinding pressure rose, threatening to break.

“Come on, Y/n,” Jensen said through ragged pants. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

“Jensen.” You cried, tears spilling over. “I can’t, I’m so tired.”

His grip left your shoulder and joined yours on the headboard, intertwining his fingers with yours as he drove into you over and over and over.

“Yes, you can.” He encouraged. “Tell me where.”

He adjusted, giving you time to assess the effectiveness.

And then, suddenly, “Ah, right there. Fuck, don’t fucking stop.” You squeezed your eyes shut.

He did as he was told, gritting his teeth together, fingers digging into your flesh as he held on. He waited and waited until he felt you close in around him, constricting, demanding he fall off that cliff with you into the deep pool of bright light. Your hands slid from the headboard as you collapsed back onto the mattress. Jensen fell with you, his weight trapping you.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. But eventually, you found your way to the surface again, taking a deep, shuttering breath. Jensen rolled off you onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing in and out, in and out. Sweat outlined his sculpted frame as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. When his heart finally settled, his eyes found yours, and he pulled you close.

You were no longer aware if you were sleeping or awake, but still, you said. “I think it is safe to say we can move ‘exhausted sex’ from the maybe category to any fucking time or day.”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Thank you.”

You groaned. “Oh please, let’s not start that again.”

“Fair.” He agreed and thought of something else to say. “You’ve ruined me.”

“I’ve ruined you?” You corrected. “Sir. You’ve gone and rendered the entirety of the male species inconsequential.”

“Okay,” He challenged, rubbing his eyes. “You can’t be that tired if you can spin that heap of bullcrap.”

You burrowed into the crook of his arm and closed your eyes before mumbling, “It's not bullcrap. You’ve ruined me too.”

His eyes darted back and forth in the darkness, contemplating everything you had said about love and god, even children. He looked back at you. Your breath had slowed and evened out. And he knew his epiphany remained true. His love for you was beyond his initial attraction, curiosity, or, frankly, his blue balls. He’d give it all up if you asked, find some office job, become a cat dad. And then it hit him why, and he chuckled, saving that thought for another day because now sleep was threatening him too, and he might not be thinking rationally.

He kissed your hair and whispered, testing it out loud. “I love you.” A cold, electric shiver ran throughout his being.

He froze as you stirred. “Hmm?”

He chuckled. “What would you think about going public?”

You shot up, fully conscious. Fully alert. Your brow furrowed, trying to comprehend.

“Aren’t we already public? You did ask me out at a convention?”

He also sat up, rubbing his hands through his hair to stir further energy.

“Well, kind of. People know I’m dating, but only a select few know who.” He explained trying to assess your emotions at the same time. “We’ve done a pretty good job keeping a wrap on your identity.”

“Probably ‘cause your ballcap and sunglasses are such a convincing disguise, Clark Kent.” You teased.

“Smartass,” he grumbled. “Probably more likely because I have a good manager and an even better team right now who locked down and scrubbed your social media.” He waited for you and added, “If you don’t want to…”

“No, that’s not it.” You stopped him. “I… Can I think it over?”

“Of course. Take all the time you need; there’s no rush.” He assured.

“I’ll have to talk to some people beforehand. Friends, coworkers, family.” You gritted your teeth. “My mom, she… Well, she might make things difficult.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up so late. We can sleep on it and talk to the team tomorrow. They’ll answer any questions you have and maybe provide some guidance on the hard things.” He bent down to look into your eyes. “Okay?”

You nodded in response.

“Let’s get some rest, yeah?” He encouraged again and pulled you down against him.

But how the fuck were you supposed to sleep now? Your whole world could change overnight. And you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

---

TAGS:

Everything Jackles: @akshi8278

GHTTC: @maggiegirl17 @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @ghostofjoharvelle @ellen-reincarnated1967 @deansgirl79 @chriszgirl92

(Always feel free to ask to be added or removed (I won't be offended))

[arazialotis]

Pulling this one out from the archives. Holidays can be tough, but I'm glad to have you all and be part of the Supernatural community. I've found a lot of solace here, with you, and in these stories we all share. Family don't end in blood. Love you.

Happy Thanksgiving Y’all

A quick Dean X Reader drabble for the holiday. (PS I am thankful for all of you. I really mean it. Thanks for letting me share my crazy thoughts and weird stories. Thank you for your encouragement, motivation, and friendship.) 

Word Count: 1700

I’m especially thankful for you @misguidedconqueress! Thanks for always checking over things and just being amazing! 

——

The heavy door of the bunker creaked wide open as the boys waltzed through, Cas included, returning home from a hunt. All Dean wanted to do was hold you close; a fresh change of clothes and cracking a beer could come later. You had stayed behind this time, stating you had felt under the weather. It had been the longest time you and Dean had spent apart; he desired so bad to close that distance. As a wave of a bright and hearty smell hit Dean he exchanged a confused look with his brother. The bunker felt warmer, the light almost having a orangish glow compared to the usual harsh fluorescents.

As the boys headed down the staircase, the sound of chattering grew as did their confusion. Castiel proudly grinned having successfully hidden a secret from the two. His job was to ensure the hunt would last long enough but not too long as so they would arrive home on this exact day.  

They strolled through the war room into the library to find it fully converted into a dining area decorated with assorted squash, leaves, candles and a table completely set. Not to mention the overwhelming amount of people drinking and chatting back and forth.

Garth lit up like a Christmas tree upon seeing Dean. “Look who decided to show up.” He sauntered over to them. “Happy Thanksgiving hombres.” He hugged Dean first and then Sam.

Along with Garth, was a large group of people. Garth’s wife, Jody, and Donna with Claire and Alex, Eileen, a few other hunters. Dean gritted his teeth seeing Crowley casually browsing the books.

“What’s going on?” Sam slightly chuckled, stepping out of Garth’s hug.

“Dude, Y/N planned it all. I can’t believe you haven’t had us over before. Man, this place is balls.” Garth gushed.

Keep reading

[arazialotis]

Stackednatural- 117/327

Carry On (15x20) November 19th, 2020

[arazialotis]

[arazialotis]

if alphas in the omegaverse knew that we referred to it as the "omegaverse" and not the "alphaverse," they'd throw a fit

[arazialotis]

[arazialotis]

This is just... spectacular. Wow!

The Bet (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Word count: 4.4K

Summary: butcher leaves you to keep an eye on soldier boy and things become interesting when a deck of cards gets involved

Tags: (18+), enemies to lovers (not exactly but kinda), canon-typical behavior, soldier boy being soldier boy (yes that’s a warning), humor/comedy, strip poker, bets, kissing, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, table sex, surprise ending

A/N: been wanting to write for a jensen character for a while and got inspired rewatching the boys. the character is such an ass but I can’t help but be into him lol

Cross-posted to ao3 • the boys masterlist • writing masterlist

“We’ll be back in a bit,” Butcher announced, stepping in the direction of the door. He looked between you and Hughie, as if still trying to decide which ‘we’ he wanted. “Come on, lad,” he addressed the latter. Hughie seemed relieved, eyeing Soldier Boy wearily before standing and joining Butcher.

Hughie gave you an apologetic look, while Butcher pointed at you and said, “you—keep an eye on him.” He pointed at the supe, as if it wasn’t obvious.

You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at Butcher. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“No,” Butcher replied casually, ushering Hughie out the door before he himself attempted to step out. You got to your feet and caught the door before he could shut it. Butcher let out a dramatic sound and cocked his head as he looked down at you.

You didn’t find him intimidating, not anymore. You had squared up against the man more than once. Hell, you thought Butcher respected you more for it.

“You have a problem?” he asked, baiting you.

“He’s gonna try and fuck me,” you said bluntly—albeit under your breath.

Butcher scoffed out a laugh, seeming actually amused. He also knew it was true. Ever since Soldier Boy had laid his eyes on you, he’d been gunning for you. Whether it was lewd comments or hungry gazes, it was obvious to everyone. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it one bit.

“Well, don’t let him then,” Butcher offered in a mocking tone.

Butcher wouldn’t have left you with the man if he thought you’d actually get hurt, you knew that. And it’s not like the supe scared you—at least not for that reason. The only one who seemed outwardly uncomfortable with his behavior was Hughie. You could handle him, but being alone in his company wasn’t an ideal way to spend your afternoon.

“Gee, thanks,” you replied sarcastically.

“Hey lady, I’m a gentleman,” Soldier Boy piped up in a gruff, annoyed voice. He seemed genuinely offended.

“See?” Butcher said in that stupid, I told you so tone. “Like I said, we’ll be back.”

With an annoyed huff, you pulled your hand from the door and allowed the man to pull it shut in your face. You caught his victorious smirk right before. Everything was a showdown with Butcher it seemed, and boy did he love to win.

“So,” Soldier Boy started as you turned back to him. “Are you gonna be a bitch to me this whole time? Just ‘cause I paid you a few compliments?”

You scoffed and shook your head, wondering how he thought saying shit like, “your tits look great in that shirt,” counted as a compliment. Whatever, he wasn’t going to change and you weren’t going to bother yourself with lecturing the stubborn asshole. You and the boys needed him as a weapon, not as a politically correct member of society. You’d burden yourself with whipping him into shape after he took care of Homelander.

“We’re gonna end up with a few hours to kill,” you noted as a change of topic, looking around the room.

You could hear the smirk in his voice when Soldier Boy said, “if you’re looking for suggestions, I have a few ideas.”

You rolled your eyes, but glossed over it. He was attractive and even charismatic—you couldn’t deny that—but he seemed to counter that with the crudeness of his personality. You spotted a deck of cards and grabbed it. “How’s your poker face?” you asked, holding up the cards for him to see.

“Texas hold ‘em?” He actually seemed into the idea.

“Sure, why not,” you decided.

You sat down across from him at the table where he’d been sitting. He pushed aside wrappers and pill bottles to make room. You began to deal and laid out the cards.

“What, you don’t have any chips?” Soldier Boy asked, looking at you expectantly.

“Where would I have chips at?”

“I don’t know, poker was your idea. You can’t play poker without betting.”

“I mean, you can,” you argued half-heartedly. Being alone with him was exhausting already.

“If you’re fucking boring you can,” he shot back. Suddenly, a look you could only describe as devious crossed his face. “We could play strip poker.”

At first, your instinct was to tell him hell no. You should’ve, honestly. Another part of you wondered if it would be fun— it was that impulsive, indelicate side of you that made you work so well with the boys. You must’ve been curious, crazy, or both to agree. But, you did.

“Fine.”

He practically beamed, grinning in victory. You were already starting to regret it. “Now it’s a real game. Gotta have something on the line.”

Even as he said that, you had an inkling that the stakes would be a bit higher for you. And as the two of you played and clothing began to disappear from the both of you, you suspected he wanted to be naked in front of you almost as much as he wanted you to be naked in front of him. That became obvious when he took off his shirt and pants after his first two losses. You’d opted to remove a sock after yours.

Still, the two of you carried on a conversation during the game. It was a shock to you when you began to relax around him. It was even more surprising when you laughed at some stupid joke he made at Hughie and Butcher’s expense.

“You seem like most of the brains behind the operation,” Soldier Boy continued, laying the charm on thick. You could spot it clear as day, but even you weren’t totally immune to it as you grew to actually enjoy the game.

“More like their wrangler,” you replied with a small laugh.

“Maybe they’re too busy grabbing at each other's dicks,” Soldier Boy suggested. It pulled another laugh from you despite the offensiveness of it. Being around the boys for so long you’d developed a darker sense of humor.

A smile crossed his face, seeming proud of himself as he watched you react.

“You startin’ to hate me less?” he asked suddenly, like he just had to know right then.

“What?” you replied with a small chuckle, hardly registering the question for a minute. “Does it matter?”

It seemed to pain him when he replied unconvincingly, “no,” with a scoff. “Well, maybe.”

“Wow, that must’ve been hard,” you commented sarcastically. “Does my opinion actually matter to you?”

“What, a guy can’t make conversation?” Soldier Boy was getting defensive.

Over the past however long, his ego had been deeply bruised. You saw it back when he realized the truth about his team. He’d been betrayed and forgotten. You suspected there was a part of him, a still human part, that was desperately seeking approval. Even if he covered it up.

Still, you dropped it. You could’ve told him that you were beginning to think he wasn’t so bad, but you didn’t want to risk boosting his ego. He was still a dick, you tried not to forget that.

After a few more hands, you were missing socks and pants—still keeping your bra, underwear, and shirt—and he was missing everything except a sock and boxers. You were sort of in the lead, but things were pretty tied up.

You gathered the cards up again and began to shuffle. “Why don’t we play gin rummy?” you suggested. You were getting a tad tired of the same game over and over.

“What? Why? We’ll keep playing this. Deal.”

You let out a huff, but gave in. You decided to just go ahead and deal.

“One last round,” you told him.

“Whatever,” he replied in a mutter, collecting his cards.

You two played and carried on a light conversation about random things. You weren’t really focused on playing truthfully, but you should’ve been. You lost the hand, meaning you had to lose something else. Soldier Boy seemed eagerly awaiting your decision, most likely assuming you’d take off your shirt. You’d already lost your socks and pants, so it seemed like a natural progression.

So, of course, you had to screw with him.

You reached under your shirt and unhooked your bra. You removed the straps through your sleeves and pulled it out from the bottom of your shirt.

“Oh, you’re killing me, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy said huskily under his breath.

You let out a small chuckle to yourself at his reaction. You let him suffer for another few seconds before announcing, “Alright, I’m bored.”

“What?” Soldier Boy furrowed his brows. “No, c’mon, keep playing,” he tried to convince you yet again.

“We’ve been playing for an hour and you refuse to learn any other game,” you argued back.

“I know how to play other games. I just prefer poker.” Soldier Boy frowned as you scraped together the card to put them back in the box. “What about a bet? One last game, winner takes all.”

You eyed him curiously, wondering where he was going with this. You’d let him convince you to play strip poker and that was already pushing it. “What kind of bet?”

Soldier Boy couldn’t bite back his grin and you had a feeling where he was going with this. “How about I win, you let me fuck you,” he stated casually. You scoffed. Of course he couldn’t help himself. He fully registered the bored I’m over it expression on your face, yet continued anyway. “And if you win, you let me fuck you and I’ll thank you for the privilege.”

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh in his face. “What kind of deal is that?” Your voice was dripping with amusement. It was actually kinda funny, the level of audacity and shamelessness he had. “No thanks, buddy.”

You moved to stand and heard Soldier Boy curse under his breath. “Fine, fine,” he said loudly, regaining your attention. If you could read people the way you thought, he seemed kinda desperate. It was almost comical. Then, his tone shifted. “I heard you earlier,” he said seriously. It threw you off. “That supe you want dead. Not Homelander, the other one. Personal to you.”

Tek Knight… Why was he bringing up that bastard?

“Heard you trying to slip him onto the list for me to take out,” Soldier Boy continued knowingly. “But your boss won’t let you.”

“Butcher isn’t my boss,” you corrected. It was the wrong thing to focus on, so you did something that was probably going to be very unadvised in hindsight. You heard Soldier Boy out.

“Whatever. Because I like you,”—you raised your brows at that and muttered an uh huh to yourself, because you didn’t really believe him—“you win and I’ll take him out.”

He was groveling, but damn him for figuring out something you wanted. You hated Homelander and pretty much all supes just like the rest of the boys, but also, like they all did, you had a grudge against a certain supe. Tek Knight was the reason Butcher found you. Before he even brought in Hughie, he had found you. Because Tek Knight had killed someone you loved.

Que the tragic backstory, right? You all had one. At one point you had believed the superheroes were heroes. That is, until you saw Tek Knight recklessly kill a bus with civilians in it—one of which was your best friend. Vought covered it up, blamed the criminals he’d been chasing, and praised the supe for his heroism. Needless to say, that changed your preconceptions of superheroes. Not long later, Butcher found you and took you under his wing. You bonded over your desire to kill the so-called heroes that had taken someone from each of you.

Except, Butcher was so determined to kill Homelander after what happened to Becca with Ryan that your need for revenge had been set on that back burner. And now here Soldier Boy was, offering you the only thing you really, really wanted. All you had to do was bet your dignity.

Could be worse, right?

“You in?” Soldier Boy asked, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to the moment. He was already grinning, like he knew your answer.

You returned to where you had been sitting across from him previously and smothered any last doubts you had. “Yeah,” you replied curtly.

That cocky smile of his only grew—it was probably the happiest you’d seen the man. He had a nice smile, but you knew his joy was because of your weakness.

You had to win, even if it was only to watch him lose and wipe that stupidly dazzling smile off his stupidly good looking face.

You didn’t trust him to shuffle, so you did. The stakes were high and you could already see the bulge in his boxers when he stood and scooted his chair closer. He was eager and ready to play—and more. You didn’t want to give him the chance to rig the game. You made an effort to avert your eyes as you dealt the cards out.

The cards in your hand weren’t the best, but they were good enough. Hopefully.

Maybe he wouldn’t be thinking with his upstairs brain, he already seemed incredibly impatient, which could work in your favor. Although, that didn’t seem likely since there was no chance either of you would fold. You pushed all the inner back-and-forth thoughts out of your head and tried to focus on the game. You put on your poker face and just hoped he had a worse hand.

You didn’t say much as you played. Neither did he. You avoided eye contact while he threw you a few looks here and there. There was an intensity to the game that hadn’t been there before. Probably because both of you had a good reason to win. At least, a self perceived good reason on Soldier Boy’s part. You thought yours was much more valid.

The game neared the end and it was time to show.

The moment of truth.

“Two pair,” you said, showing the cards that you had.

Soldier Boy let out a breath, which made you wonder if he had been holding one in. That wasn’t a good sign. He laid down his cards. “Full house,” he revealed.

Well fuck. You lost.

“Damn,” you muttered, but it overlapped with his voice.

“Oh fuck yes.” He sounded a little bit too enthused for your liking. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Take it as a compliment, sweetheart,” he commented smugly. “And don’t be a sore loser.”

“You sure got over Countess quick,” you mentioned in an off-handed tone just to mess with his head a little. “I thought you were still into her.”

He scoffed. “She was a bitch.”

“You called me a bitch earlier,” you pointed out.

“I call everyone a bitch.”

“You’re fucking confusing.”

“And you’re hot. I bet you’re a good fuck,” he countered with lascivious tone.

“You’re gross.” You were somehow still taken aback by his crassness even though you should’ve been used to it by now.

“What, you want me to tell you I’m into you?” He said it like it was offensive. “Like actually? Fine, I am. Big fucking deal,” he dismissed. “Now I won, get your ass over here. I’m not gonna fall for whatever mind games you’re playing.”

You could’ve told him no. You should’ve told him no right away. But damn, you couldn’t help but wonder. You couldn’t deny that Soldier Boy was attractive and from the view you got when he stood, you knew he was… large. Yeah, you should be saying no. What were you thinking?

Well, you were thinking you perhaps you did want to fuck him.

That was the truth even though it shouldn’t have been. You admitted that to yourself.

So, keeping with your end of the deal (because you planned to use the bet to justify all future actions to yourself), you stood from your chair. Soldier Boy was running his hands over his thighs when you moved towards him. He just couldn’t wait to touch you. He could hardly contain his excitement.

He pushed back from the table to make room. When you were within reach, his large, firm hands grabbed at you. Soldier Boy pulled you into his lap with a chuckle.

“Hi there,” you greeted in a sarcastic tone when you came face to face with him.

“Hey, darling,” he replied smoothly. Soldier Boy leaned in to kiss you, but you turned your head slightly. You weren’t sure why, you just did it. He scoffed a little, seemingly disappointed. “What—you’re not gonna let me kiss you?”

You eyed him curiously. “Why is that something you want?”

He shrugged a little. “I’m old fashioned.” He leaned in again and you didn’t turn away. “And it wasn’t a lie when I said I liked you,” he admitted under his breath before capturing your lips.

For a guy that hadn’t been in action for a few decades, Soldier Boy was a surprisingly good kisser. His lips were soft and plump, and moved expertly against yours.

When he pulled away, you were left slightly breathless. That seemed to fuel his ego because when he looked at you, a smirk appeared on his lips.

“Maybe we can both be winners,” Soldier Boy decided smugly. You became aware of his hand creeping along your hip. His fingers grazed your skin and then his hand made its way into the front of your underwear.

A spark of pleasure and even excitement shot through you when his thick fingers found what they were looking for.

Soldier Boy let out a deep, content hum when he brushed against your folds. You were already getting wet for him due to anticipation. He pressed one finger into your entrance and you bit back a gasp. Your body welcomed him, which made him chuckle.

You were waiting for some snarky comment, but at the moment he didn’t have one. Soldier Boy was far too focused on getting you ready for him to think of something. He rocked his hips, grinding his hard cock against your thigh as he pushed another finger into you. He moved them expertly, it should’ve been surprising how much care he was taking to elicit pleasure from you. However, you were far too distracted by the feeling of his thick fingers thrusting and curling inside of you to analyze him.

His thumb found your clit and you moaned, writing in his lap. Soldier Boy watched you, lips slightly parted, breaths heavy. His cock was achingly hard—you could feel it against you.

You felt a familiar knot in your belly form due to his motions.

“That’s it,” he said heatedly, feeling your walls begin to tighten around him. “You feel so fucking good. Can’t wait to be inside of you. Want you to come on my fingers first, though.”

His voice did something to you. You shouldn’t have liked it so much, but it was deep and rich and fuck, it was hot. As your eyes scanned his lust blown face, you saw something else. You couldn’t quite place it.

Your body tensed and as he perfectly moved his thumb and fingers in sync, you knew he was going to get what you wanted.

You fell against him when you started to quiver, the pleasure becoming all-consuming. Soldier Boy welcomed you against his firm body.

“For a girl that hates me you’re squeezing my fingers real fucking tight,” he grunted out against your ear.

Barely another second passed before your orgasm crashed over you in a wave. You pressed your lips together to conceal a dizzy moan, but it broke free.

You rode through the aftershocks on his fingers, catching your breath with your head on his shoulder.

When you finally came to your senses, his words rang in your head. “I don’t hate you,” you clarified in a murmur.

You sat up in his lap, head hazy with pleasure and trying to catch your breath, as he withdrew his hand from your underwear. Soldier Boy stared at you, scanning your face with an odd desperation you finally recognized. You meant it and he realized that.

You were yanked from your pleasured daze when his large hands gripped under your thighs.. In a swift motion, Soldier Boy lifted you. He stood as well and suddenly, you were lying with your back on the table, staring up at his lust blown emerald eyes.

His hands flew across your body, ridding you of your last pieces of clothing. Once you were exposed beneath him, Soldier Boy rid himself of his own clothes.

The two of you were completely naked, eyes scanning over each other's bodies. He pulled you to the end of the table and positioned himself between your legs.

Everything moved in an adrenaline filled blur.

There was very little time to prepare yourself as he planted a hand near your head and used the other to grab his cock. You briefly felt him line himself up to your entrance. Then, he was pushing into you. A gasping moan that surprised you both slipped from your lips as he filled you.

You had gotten a glimpse and knew he was big, but that had done nothing to prepare you for the stretch of his thick cock inside of you. There was a twinge of pain laced with the pleasure and it made you quiver around him.

A deep groan came from above. His eyes had fluttered shut. His hand slapped to grab your waist. His fingers flexed and dug into your skin.

“Fuck,” Soldier Boy cursed under his breath.

His cock throbbed inside of you and you could tell he needed a moment. You had to give him credit for maintaining some level of self control given how long it had been for him.

Except, you were getting impatient. In a bold move, you wrapped your legs around his waist encouragingly. Then, you raised your arms to grasp his face in your hands. You pulled him down into a passionate kiss, which he gladly responded to. He pulled back his hips a little, then thrust forward. You gasped against him and he smiled.

He straightened then, moving both hands to your hips. You braced yourself as he withdrew again, fully this time, then shoved forward.

It took a few experimental thrusts before he set a pace, but when he did you could do nothing but lay there and take everything he gave you.

You weren’t sure what you previously thought fucking him would be like, but damn it was good.

Soldier Boy knew what he was doing. He pounded into you hard and fast, forcing pleasure through your body. He was panting above you, then leaning down to press sloppy kisses to your body. His beard scratched against your skin, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was his cock filling you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Soldier Boy cursed and muttered the praise. His husky voice cascaded over you. You didn’t reply, but he seemed pleased with the fact that you couldn’t. You were doing everything in your power to not let out embarrassingly loud noises.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with panting breaths from you both.

He brought his hand down and pressed his thumb against your clit. Soldier Boy flicked his eyes up to you, watching your face contort in further ecstasy.

He was fervorous, putting everything he had into fucking you. It was going to be quick, he couldn’t hold back much longer,, but he wanted you to come with him.

He kept up his motions, pounding into you, filling you over and over again.

You grasped at his back suddenly, digging your nails in as your body tensed and the knot in your belly exploded. Soldier Boy groaned loudly as your body tensed and shivered around him. You couldn't hold back your moan that time.

That sent him spiraling into his own release.

One, two, three—Soldier Boy slammed into you a final time. You felt his cock twitch. He shuttered above you. Then, he was spilling inside of you. You should’ve stopped him, but you wanted to feel him fill you up.

Soldier Boy let out a heavy exhale and practically collapsed on top of you. He nestled his head into your neck, nose brushing against your ear. The feel of his cock stuffing you full, his come dripping down your thigh, and the weight of his body was all consuming. You couldn’t deny that you loved the feeling.

You ran your hands across his muscular back, listening to his heavy breathing in your ear and his heart pounding from the exertion.

There were no words spoken between you two for several moments as you each caught your breath.

“I’ll take him out,” Soldier Boy muttered into your neck, catching you off guard. It took you a second to register his words, but when you did, you turned your head to look at him. Just in tandem with him to lift himself to hover over you. He planted his hands steady to hold himself up. Your noses were only a few inches apart and you could feel light puffs of breath coming from him against your face.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask, stunned and wanting to be sure you heard him right.

“That supe you hate,” he clarified. “I’ll kill him for you.” Soldier Boy raised his hand and brushed a few strands of hair back from your face. “If that’s what you want.”

You swallowed. “Yeah,” you told him, nodding slightly. “I want you to.”

“Alright then,” he confirmed with uncharacteristically tranquil demeanor. Seeing a gentle, oddly caring smile instead of a sleazy smirk on his face threw you off.

You thought Soldier Boy was going to lean down to kiss you—he looked like he wanted to—but something caught his attention. He lifted his head towards the door.

That’s when you heard it. The door knob rattled..

A devious grin crossed Soldier Boy’s face. It suited him better than the previous expression.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, knowing what was about to happen and that you couldn’t prevent it.

You turned your head towards the door, just in time to see Butcher and Hughie walking back in.

[arazialotis]

Jensen Ackles | Liverpool, October 22, 2023 [x]

[arazialotis]

okay, I'll bite. IF they really end up making a season 16, this BETTER end up being the biggest fan service ever. They had their shitty ending, now it's our turn. I'm talking body swap episode, human impala episode, gender swap curse episode, beach episode, jack and claire hunting together episode, freaky monster in the woods filler episode, "boring" old school haunted house case filler episode just for the sake of it like in the early seasons, which, speaking of, early seasons set design and color palette and lighting. I'm talking a season 5 level of back to back unique episodes. guest cameos of dead fan favorites. AND, the most important thing, and this is non-negotiable, full on canon lips on lips destiel. They have a lot to make up for.

[arazialotis]

DEAN WINCHESTER in one random episode per day ‣ 249/327 7.16 OUT WITH THE OLD

[arazialotis]

(Source: HollyDPhotos on Twitter)

Such gorgeous photos 😍

[arazialotis]

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 9

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 6250

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warnings: It's here, the smut, you made it. NSFW. 18+ Only!

Although this is an RPF, these are fabricated characters and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as a coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

----

The pen tapped repeatedly on the desk. The words jumped off the page and taunted you in a menacing dance. Interpreting legalese to common speech was not your forte. 

“What’s wrong?” Jensen asked, analyzing you from across the room. 

You snapped your attention to him, “Nothing,” and quickly returned to the document. 

“Somethings up.” He continued to press. 

You didn’t look at him this time and continued to read. The desk groaned under his weight as he sat next to you. His thigh was inches away from your trembling hand. His knuckles turned white as he grasped the desk's edge. There was black ink of a rune on his index finger, but you didn't know the meaning. Two fingers began tapping it in rhythm with the pen while he waited. It was as if he was tempting you, rushing the process along. “Y/N,” Jensen took the pen from you, demanding your attention. “If you need to think things over, have your attorney review it; I understand.”

You couldn’t help but scoff and roll your eyes (like you had an attorney on standby). As distracting as he was, you wouldn’t let him stop you. You turned a page and kept reading. 

“It’s not that.” 

“Then what is it?” He nudged you with his knee and sighed when you didn’t continue. “Talk to me, Y/N.”

Finally, you gave up and leaned back in the chair, looking up at him into that forest of green. There was concern, like he thought you might be second-guessing everything. 

"It's feeling all…" You gestured with your hands. "I don't know. Fifty shades?" 

Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed the admission had come out so easily. You weren't trying to be difficult, really. It was just all unfamiliar. And this next page was just as confusing as the first. This wasn't the moment to skip over the terms and conditions despite the implied reward at the end. Though great enthusiasm was shared yesterday, sleep won over on the return journey. Jensen could only stir you to get you back up to the room. But that time had allowed for the preparations of more formal matters—ones you had to address before moving forward. 

His thumb rubbed against his bottom lip. "If that's what you're into, I can have my legal team draft another contract within the hour." 

Your eyes snapped back to him in shock, only to find his face painted with a shit-eating grin. 

You weren't as amused. "Shut up," you said, swatting him with the piece of paper in your hand. 

Jensen chuckled and pushed off the desk, pacing the room. About to sit on the bed, still a whirlwind of sheets and blankets, he questioned himself and went for the armchair in the corner. 

“In all seriousness, there is nothing more to it than ensuring my privacy. As much as it sucks,” He muffled a laugh conveying his conflict, “I have an image to maintain, a narrative to portray. I know it’s not fair, but those closest to me have to help me carry that burden. In no way is this me not trusting you. It's just your promise to help keep my reputation steady. And you are equally protected, in case I’m secretly a complete asshole. If you need time, I couldn’t encourage it more.” 

With a deep inhale, you mulled things over. You trusted him. Of that, you were certain. If what he said is true, there should be no concerns. Not reading further, you flipped to the last page. The pen scratched against the paper. As the ink cemented your agreement, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you were signing over your freedom. And in some ways, you were. You were subjecting yourself to hold this weight with him. The world wouldn’t know him as you did. And you would only be able to share what he allowed. Or better said, what his PR team allowed. 

“It’s done.” You brought it to him and dropped it in his lap. 

He grabbed your wrist; his finger grazed over your forearm as if testing for a pulse.

“Thank you.” He whispered sincerely. 

You pulled away. “I am going to freshen up and then find some decent coffee. This hotel stuff is shit.” 

Jensen’s eyes followed you until you locked yourself in the bathroom. The spark remained, but he’d have to rekindle it for a flame. Although spending all day in bed sounded more than ideal, he wanted to repay you, truly show you his gratitude, but mostly work you back into the frenzy he saw you in last night. He went to arrange the file to send back to his team when he saw the date next to your name. It was for the night you first met.

---

“Not even two full days, but I missed ya baby!” You exclaimed as you rubbed the hood of Jensen’s rental.

“Don't you ever disgrace that name again,” He sternly scolded in response. 

You only smirked and joined him in the car. 

“So, seeing where the road takes us?” You asked. 

Jensen plugged an address into the phone. It was a little unsettling after seeing him live the last few days with no plan at all. 

“I have a couple of things up my sleeve.” 

Step one: Obtain copious amounts of caffeine. You agreed on Starbucks. After days of diner and hotel coffee, you needed something consistent and predictable. Step two: Stroll the botanical gardens, test out holding hands, and stop frequently to admire the beauty and smell the flowers, but really use it as an excuse to lean in close together. Jensen’s touch often grazed over your shoulder, brushed your upper arm with the back of his knuckles, trailed down your lower back, and held onto the fabric of your shirt (pinching lightly enough you didn’t notice him tethered to you). Step three: Smile politely as you encounter fans, snap photos for them, and let him take the lead in answering their questions, keeping your responses as vague as possible. Word must have gotten out of his location. Step four: Escape the growing crowd. 

Jensen turned the key and started the car. “Well, shit.” He said, defeated. “That was supposed to be all romantic and cute.” He started driving without a plan. “It was.” You assured. “Until it turned into a clusterfuck.” 

You laughed, but Jensen was not amused. 

“It’s okay.” You rubbed his hand on the gear stick. “We’ll find something…” You gasped and slapped your hand against his chest, sending Jensen into a near heart attack. “Oh my god, was that Voodoo’s?”

“Jesus!” Jensen swore, swerving to regain control of the car.

But you were oblivious to his panic, having turned a full one-eighty in your seat. 

“Oh my god,” you repeated. “It totally is! Turn back around!” You instructed him, and when he didn’t immediately pull a U-turn, you came back to the front, practically shouting, “Turn around!”

It wasn’t the paperwork that morning or the stolen kisses or even yesterday’s panel that officially deemed you a couple. It was this: the first time he showed actual (not feigned) annoyance with you. 

“What the hell is going on?” He demanded.

How had he not caught up yet? “Voodoo doughnuts!” you exclaimed. “It's been like forever since I had one. They’re not out by me!” “All this for overrated doughnuts?” Jensen huffed. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You scoffed in offense. “They are not overrated.”

“They most definitely are.” He argued. 

“Jensen, please.” You whined in desperation. 

His ear perked up, and the annoyance melted into fascination. That was a phrase he could get used to. Granted, this was not the context in which he first wanted to hear it.  He made the mistake of looking at you, finding those same puppy-dog eyes Jared was so good at. 

He sighed and gave in. “Fine, fine.” 

Ten minutes later, Jensen was eating his words. Although he verbally stood by his previous statement, the tenacity with which he consumed not one but two doughnuts was all the confirmation that you needed to know you had won. 

Strolling down Colfax, you found a few cute shops. Initially, you were only going to window shop until you passed a bookstore. You pulled Jensen in with the same urgency you expressed upon seeing Voodoo’s. Jensen simply watched as you pointed out all the books on your TBR and those with cute covers. He was wise in not suggesting procuring them as he knew you’d have to purchase a second suitcase for the return journey home. Instead, he asked questions, attempting to understand what appealed to your taste. He’d lick his lips, nod, rub his jaw, enthralled by how your eyes lit up, talking with vigor and passion. And truly, he was paying attention, but the logic of your preferences was not computing. 

He checked his watch and eventually corraled you out with only one book in hand. But progress was lost once he spotted the record shop across the walkway. Now, it was his turn to drag you in. Initially, you started browsing together but wandered apart in search of your respective genres. For a moment, you became lost in time, searching through the miscellaneous “T’s” in the hunt for a favorite artist. An unsettling feeling that someone was watching you brought you back. The store wasn’t busy; two employees were sorting through new arrivals behind the counter, a younger guy sporting chunky headphones sampling a record on a turntable, and a few browsers. From across the store, you found the onlooker. Jensen was methodically observing your process. But his intense gaze melted into a warm smile that heated your heart, and he gave a bashful wave before looking through his stack of collections. 

It was clear that your hunt would fail. You ambled closer to him and, from behind, wrapped your arms around his waist, peeking at the current selection he was sorting through. His free hand joined yours, wrapping you against him tighter. 

“Oh, that’s a good one.” You pointed. “You should get it.”

Jensen flipped it over to see the list of tracks on the back and caught sight of his watch. 

“Shoot,” He said, gathering all the records in his arms. “We gotta go.”

“What?” You asked, chasing after him. 

Jensen plopped his records on the counter. “Hi, how are ya?” he said half-heartedly before addressing you, “We got stuff to do.” That didn’t clarify anything. You checked your phone for the time, wondering if it somehow hadn’t adjusted timezones. “We have dinner at 6?” But that was still several hours away. 

He paid for his items and raised a brow at you. “It’s not dinner.” You squinted at him, trying to read behind his nonchalant expression and motives. “What exactly do you have in mind?” 

He inhaled sharply, grabbed his bagged records, and headed out the door with you trailing behind. “It’s a surprise, " he finally disclosed. 

You bit your lip, hoping for a steamy rendezvous back at the hotel, but despite your pestering, he would not divulge any further information. And if your sense of direction was correct, once you were back in the car, you were headed further away from the hotel, not toward it. In fact, it seemed like you were heading back to Golden. The possibilities ran through your head. 

“You’re not taking me to the Coors Tour, are you?” You asked and then regretted the disdain in your voice in case that was what he had planned. 

He huffed a laugh. “A pretentious snob such as yourself? Never.” And relief flooded you. “Though you are due for a private tour of Family Business.”

“I don’t know. I hear their ratings are inflated ‘cause they have a cute owner,” you teased. 

“Smart-ass. And it’s co-owner.” He scoffed. “I’ll have to tell Liam to cool it with the charm. Need the beer to speak for itself.”

“Liam?” “My brother.” “Right, right.” You remembered. On the first leg of the journey, you both talked about family.

“It is the Family Business, after all.” 

“True.” You agreed. “So, is the whole family involved?” “Liam the most; he’s the one brewing and creating new flavor profiles. Harper was more involved in the beginning with graphic design and marketing. Mom and Pop just hang around for free samples. Ingrid’s not really involved. She has always marched to her own beat.” He smiled fondly at the end as he turned off the highway. “We’ll have you meet Liam first. He’ll be the least overbearing and easiest to talk to.”

You gulped. You had come to peace in rushing the physical things. God, you wished that was what you were doing right now, but meeting the family? Even just talking about it sent a wave of uneasiness through you. There was a certain level of commitment necessary for that kind of step. It wasn’t that you were afraid of commitment, but you feared Jensen might be taking this too lightly, like a candle burning too hot. Or maybe it was because of your own family. Sure, he had talked some shit about his on the way here, but they seemed like the Rockwell Thanksgiving painting in comparison to yours. You weren’t sure you ever wanted your family to meet him. You’d always been more comfortable with your friends. They were more a family to you than blood. Your NDA was one thing; how did actual family or even friends play into that?

“Close your eyes,” Jensen instructed, thankfully pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. You would take this one step at a time.

You did as he asked but did not hesitate to voice your opinion. “This feels weird.”

“Almost there."

You felt the car slow, felt the crunch of gravel underneath, and eventually halted to a stop. 

“Can I open my eyes?” “Not yet.”

You heard him unbuckle his seatbelt and leave the car. A moment later, your car door creaked open. He undid your seatbelt, clasped your hands over your eyes, reinforced the no-peeking rule, and guided you blindly into position. He stood behind you, securing his hands over yours for extra security. 

“Dr. Grant, welcome to Jurassic Park.” He gave his best John Hammond impersonation and uncovered your eyes.

You blinked away the bright sun and adjusted to the light, taking in your surroundings. Confused at first, you waited for your brain to catch up. Horribly painted dinosaur statues were scattered throughout the grassy patches of the dusty parking lot. Was that a stegasaurus painted as the American Flag? And the derpiest T-Rex in existence. Aside from the paper-mache dinosaur renditions, a small shed and outhouse were the only buildings in sight. 

“Oh no," you laughed. “What in the roadside attraction hell is this place? Is this payback for the mystery spot?” He silently chuckled. “As much as I wish that it was, I did my research, and although this,” He waved at the general set up, “up there is a trail with actual fossils in the hills. We have a tour with a geologist in about five minutes.” His excitement dropped as he tried to read yours. “You hate it? It’s stupid, I…” “No! No.” You cut him off. “It’s. Well. When I pictured how our day would be spent,” You didn’t know how to put it lightly, and you were committed to being more forward with him anyway. “I thought we’d be fucking each other’s brains out, not… healing my inner child.”

Jensen inhaled, about to speak, but stopped. He started again, then mentally pictured the two of you entwined and blinked rapidly. He grabbed your hand and began dragging you back to the car. Your heels dug into the ground, and there was a mischievous smile on your face. “Oh, hell no. You brought me to see dinosaurs. The opportunity to shoot your shot has sadly faded, my friend. It’ll be a miracle if I ever leave these hills.”

His hand wound behind your neck, gripping it gently as his lips drew closer to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, waiting for a kiss that never came. Jensen was so close that the tip of his nose was only a thread away from yours, yet you could still see the smug grin plastered on his face. 

His voice was a low growl. “Are you as much of a brat in bed as you are in real life?” You nearly melted into a puddle, but his grip held you steady. It took a breath to regain your composure, but eventually, you matched his domineering presence. You inched your lips closer to his, hovering, and as you spoke, they brushed against each other. 

Your whisper was as smooth as velvet. “I guess you’ll have to wait for our Vegas trip to find out.” You grazed your hand up his inner thigh, and as you tenderly squeezed your prize, you nipped at his bottom lip. As soon as it happened, you pulled away and patted his stunned cheek. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some extremely important matters to discuss with our new geologist friend.” You didn’t wait for him to respond and sauntered to the wooden outpost labeled museum. Jensen watched the sway of your hips as you grew further away. He shuddered as if casting off a chill and chased after you, knowing fully well he was leashed to you despite your distaste for the analogy. 

---

You rushed back to the hotel, fearing you’d be late for dinner, but you insisted on freshening up from the sweat and dust of the hike. Maybe you could have axed some of the questions to save time, but you loved watching Jensen roll his eyes and meander onward as you debated nonsensical topics with the geologist. You burst into the hotel room, hoping you had enough time to scramble in at least a new coat of deodorant and fix your hair.  Jensen trailed behind you, carrying the shopping bags and your crossbody. 

“Why is your bag so heavy?” he called after you, setting it down with a thunk. Curiosity got the better of him, and he rifled through it, pulling out several rocks. He sighed. “What am I going to do with you?” 

“What?” You feigned innocence as you rushed frantically around the room. “There were signs everywhere explicitly saying not to take any rocks.” He rubbed his forehead.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I had those rocks with me before we went hiking.” You said as you applied a thin layer of lip gloss. 

He fished through them. “Then tell me why this one so closely resembles the layer of volcanic ash.” You looked at the rock he held, and your smile resembled a grimace. “I plead the fifth? I only took three. None of them were actually fossils. I’m only a klepto when it comes to rocks. And not gift shop rocks, only rocks in their natural state.” He wasn’t buying any of your excuses. “They needed me. I rescued them. If they stayed on the trail, they would only be ground into gravel.” He sighed and set the rock down. “How many more crimes do you plan on committing this trip?” 

Your grimace turned up, and your tongue peaked out between your teeth. “I think I have room for a few more.”

“I keep forgetting to run your background check. And now I am going to need three character references as well.” He said so sternly you couldn’t tell if it was his dry humor or seriousness. 

You pursed your lips together and crept to him. He eyed your path, unmoving as you grabbed the collar of his shirt. “Will this suffice?”

You drew his lips to yours, meeting with a harsh need. He mirrored your hunger, the lip gloss gliding his lips against yours, its faint taste of sweet berries dancing on his tongue. You pressed further into him as you arched your body against his. 

He broke the kiss with a warning whisper: “Don’t think you can bribe your way out of this.”

But his lips eagerly sought out the pulse of your neck. His hands wandered under your shirt, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as yours untucked his shirt and went for the button of his jeans. His eyes shot to the red lights of the alarm clock, and he pulled away. 

“After dinner, " he promised, settling his grip on your shoulders, keeping you at arm's length. 

You looked back at the clock and returned with a new glint in your eyes. You began pulling your hair back. 

“Give me two minutes.” You instructed. 

Jensen’s eyes followed you as you sank to the ground, rolling them back as you went for his zipper. 

----

The restaurant was bustling with chatter and laughter. You sat next to Jensen at a long table hosting cast and crew still around from the weekend. You were trapped in the booth side but unpanicked as Jensen leaned against the back, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Jared, along with a few others, had caught a flight back earlier this afternoon, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that had also relieved some of the anxiety. Regardless, you played with the straw wrapper underneath the table. 

Rob, to his left, squinted, observing a change he couldn’t quite place. “I think this is the most at ease I’ve seen you in six months.”

You exhaled through puffed cheeks and returned to the menu, trying to conceal your blush, knowing exactly what had caused Jensen’s newfound relaxed state. 

Jensen cleared his throat and adjusted the seam of his pants while attempting to channel his default rigid demeanor. “Oh, you know what they say about the mountain air.” “Higher elevation,” Misha commented from across the table. “Hearts beat faster to increase blood flow due to the lack of oxygen. Don’t overdo the physical activity, you two; it could lead to altitude sickness.” 

You buried your head further into the menu. 

Jensen stared at Misha, unblinking. “Why are you the way you are?”

“What?” Misha defended himself. “You said you went hiking earlier. Oh,” he finally got it and giggled. “That’s why you’ve been so late to everything this whole weekend.”

You muttered a curse into the menu. 

Carla, a crew member sitting to your right, continued the teasing with a chirp. “And why you’re so relaxed.” She then turned her attention to you, forcing you back into the conversation.  “You are coming back to Vancouver with us, right? He’s been an absolute bear on set.” “I have not!” He whined. “No, he has,” Misha agreed. “He’s always been a bear! You need to come with us.” “I’m the bear?” He grumbled. “What about the time…” You cut him off. “I do have a job, unfortunately, and responsibilities. Jensen, honey, you need to play nice with your friends at work. No more pranks on poor Misha.” “Thank you!” Misha exclaimed. But your teasing earned you a pinch to the side. 

“Okay, but seriously.” Rob stuttered sheepishly. “Maybe you could arrange to come up once a month for like a long weekend or something?”

“I’m not that bad.” Jensen strained. “Kim, back me up.”

She chewed on an appetizer and tilted her head back and forth, weighing a response. “They’re just teasing you. You’re a sensitive kind of guy. As with all of us, sometimes those emotions bleed onto the set.” “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” He muttered. But you gasped. “It’s ‘cause he’s a Pisces! He can’t help it. If he’s grumpy, give him space to process all those emotions swimming up around there, and he’ll come back on his own time to talk things over.”

“That is enough out of you.” He warned. 

But it was too late. The table had dived fully into the realm of zodiac signs, guessing each other’s and looking up horoscopes. 

Bri, next to Kim, read Pisces’ out loud, “After a season of trials, matters of the heart this week become effortless. Spend time on your current connection, enhancing and empowering the relationship, as your partner is truly worth the effort. As Venus moves into your 8th house, intimacy has the potential to be more blissful than ever before.”

“If there was ever a signal to get off third base and slide into home.” You commented, feeling a little more comfortable with the group and earned a round of chuckles. 

“Excuse me!” Jensen's voice cracked as he called over the laughter and giggles. He raised his hand, getting the server’s attention. “Can we place our orders? Thank you!”

---

You entered the hotel room one last time, and finally, this time, nothing in front of you but the promise of tomorrow—no more group outings, no more road trip side shows, and definitely no more hiking. 

It wasn’t how you pictured it, how either of you pictured it. It was neither frenzied nor rushed. There wasn’t an all-consuming hunger that overtook you or a restless panic that would cease only if you became entwined. It was slow. Perhaps because you had the whole night ahead or more likely because of the favor you had pulled early. But more than that. It was because you wanted to fully savor every moment, lock it to memory, knowing this first embrace of passion could never be replicated. 

Jensen held your hand as he led you through the room. At the edge of the bed, he repeatedly brushed your knuckles against his lips, searching your eyes, forming an unspoken agreement, ensuring your desires had not changed. The bed springs groaned as he sat down, pulling you down to straddle his lap. You held his jaw in your hands, tracing small circles through his stubble with your thumbs. Each of you studied the other, memorizing the small details of freckles and wrinkles and colors as an artist would their subject. 

You softly pressed your lips against his, noses grazing as you did, and waited, watching. At first, he matched your stillness but was the first to break. His lips guided tenderly against yours before pressing further into you. The ambient sounds of the hotel surrounded you as you wove fingers through hair: the siren of an ambulance, the padding of feet in the hallway, the muffled voices from adjoining rooms. 

Jensen’s hands danced along the hem of your shirt. A shiver ran through your body as the cool metal of a ring claimed the warmth of your skin. His hands kneaded against soft flesh and muscle as they mapped the shape of you.  With one hand braced between your shoulder blades and the other gripping your hip, he flipped you onto your back. His hips dug into yours as his lips nursed that sensitive spot on your neck. You arched your chest into his and moaned. 

“Fuck, this is actually happening, isn’t it?” You gasped. 

Jensen gave a sultry chuckle and trailed his lips down your collarbone. You couldn’t deny you had dreamed of this moment for so long- since before you even knew him. And now it was here, actually here. A dull ache formed at your core. Your brave, sarcastic, bratty facade shed as you let him glimpse everything you truly were. 

“Jensen,” You called for him, abandoning the avoidance of haste. “Please.”

It took every ounce of his willpower to maintain the tranquil pace as you begged for him. But eventually, he gave in, overcome by his own need. Jensen sat up, pulling you up with him, and in the same motion, fully removed your shirt and bra, already loose from a move moments earlier Dean Winchester himself would have been proud of. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” He looked down at you as you displayed yourself proudly.

Propped up on your elbows, you swayed teasingly side to side and loved how words and thoughts melted from his mind. But your arrogance shattered as he met your assessing gaze with a darkness, a greed you had never seen on him before. You sank back to the mattress, and he followed as if there was a magnetic pull. A hand snaked from your waist, along your ribs, and stopped just underneath, his thumb nearly grazing the prize he sought so desperately. Silently, he searched for permission before continuing his pursuit. 

“Gods, Jensen.” You grew impatient and grabbed his face, pulling him down to meet your breasts.

With one hand kneading, the other held you steady as his head nuzzled against the soft flesh. He rubbed against your nipple, and you bowed further into him, encouraging, manifesting more. His lips grazed against your hard peak before taking it fully into his mouth, whining as he did from the taste of you. As the ache in your core grew, your incoherent praises began to drown out the world around you. The sensation of his tongue, and teeth, and calloused thumb was overwhelming, and pressure began to build. 

“Jensen, please.” You begged again, somehow forming words, already chasing release. “I need you.” 

He paused, coming up for air, his hand sliding down to your hip as he did. It was too far apart. You needed him; you needed him to be glued to every inch of you, to know you fully. You grabbed his hand and brought it back up, but he remained unfazed, calculating his next move. 

“Come here,” He instructed and rolled to his side. 

You whimpered in protest as the heat and closeness of him retreated. But he quickly amended as he drew you closer, one arm sliding beneath your back. Both hands went for your jeans, and you eagerly helped undo their constraint, shimmying out of them. And just like that, you presented yourself fully. There were no barriers, nothing in between, nothing that separated you. You could feel his gaze rake your body as if it were his fingers caressing every inch. He inhaled sharply before meeting your eyes and kissed you deeply. 

“Beautiful.” He whispered between breaths. “So fucking beautiful.”

Even though his arm was pinned behind your back, he adjusted his hold of you so his hand could become reacquainted with your breast. With his free hand, he took yours and parted from your lips. 

“Show me.” He instructed.

Your eyes never left each other’s as you guided him down to your center until the brashness of his strong fingers clashed against your soft core. Your eyes rolled back upon the impact. But the relief was short-lived as his hand remained limp. 

“Show me.” He reminded you, his lips whispering against your ear. 

Your hand hovered delicately over his as you governed his movements to heighten the sensation. He carefully studied every movement, every circle, every reaction, every sound that escaped with your breath. His movements became his own as he practiced the patterns until he found the same reactions as before. Then he took control and dipped two fingers into your core. Lightly at first, testing the entrance and then altogether plunging into your very center. You helped instruct the pace, but he placed yours back over your clit, taking the lead. Together, you worked yourself inside and out. Your whimpers grew into a slew of fractured curses. 

“You’re close?” He asked, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Fuck,” You whined. 

His pace built, and his lips danced along your hair, breathing in your scent. 

“Let go.” He kissed your temple. 

“Jensen.” You cried, barely able to withstand the heated intensity. 

“Come on, Y/N.” He refused to cease. “Show me.”

You shattered, shuttering into his cradle as you rode through the release of surging waves. Both of you panted, attempting to settle your racing hearts. 

“So fucking beautiful.” He repeated, kissing you once again. 

The rough denim of his jeans scraped against your thigh as he popped the button free, and a new fever overtook you. It was not enough. You needed more. You needed all of him. You hooked your leg under his and flipped him to his back. His eyes were wide, and his hands held up in surrender from the surprise as you quickly removed what separated you from him. Once free, your lips hovered over his hard length, your nails grazed against the tufts of hair but denied him touch. 

Already cognizant of what your mouth could do, he wanted to familiarize himself with other parts of you. He pulled you up so your hips were flush with his. You took the tip of his shaft in your hand and rolled, wettening him with his own precum. His head sank deeper into the pillows as he groaned for more. You took him between your folds, grinding his length against your clit, stoking the embers back to flame. Jensen lifted his head and watched, utterly at your mercy. Gods, he had already gotten off early today, but just by the sight of you, he feared he wouldn’t last long. 

As you continued your pace, he reached for the nightstand, digging through the bag you prudently acquired last night. He fumbled with the box, trying to get a grasp on the edge, but was having difficulty concentrating as you drew closer and closer to climax.  If he didn’t hurry, he was going to spill before he was even inside you. 

The box slipped from his hands. “Dammit,” He chuckled, defeated. 

You slowed, chuckling with him, and stopped altogether, assisting him with the box. It gave him a chance to regain his composure, although he knew he’d lose it entirely in seconds. You rolled the condom over him, lined him to your entrance, and paused. His eyes snapped to yours, a grin brightened his face, and he nodded. 

You lowered down onto him, weaving yourselves together. You tested the waters slowly at first, but after you adjusted, drove into a claiming rhythm. He gasped and gripped your hips, controlling your movements and slowing your relentless pace. He wanted this moment to last. He never wanted it to end. You fought against him, desperate for another high.

“Y/N,” He cried. “For fuck’s sake.” 

It was both too much and not enough. He needed more, to be closer, to feel your chest against his, to remove the space that separated you. There was no gentleness this time as he braced you and sharply flipped you. His weight deliciously trapping you. The sculpted edges of muscle confined your soft and delicate features as if you could be molded together. You squirmed for movement, for friction, for anything to provide you relief. But he just watched. 

“Please,” you moaned. “Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”

“Shh.” He hushed you, but it only drove you more feral. 

His thumb rolled against your lower lip. Needing pressure, you sought your own help, trying to wedge your hand between your bodies. But he grabbed both your wrists, pinning them above your head. He waited until you settled, until the hysteria dissipated, and he held your full attention. Then and only then, when you looked him calmly in the eye, did he thrust as if he wanted you to be aware every moment who was fucking you. His speed increased, and you cried in ecstasy as he bore into you again and again. 

“Jensen, oh god,” You gasped.

You ripped your wrists from his hold and griped his shoulders, nails digging in as he tested the new angle. He grabbed the back of your neck, pressing your mouth to his, his tongue sliding in to meet yours, consuming the sounds of carnal worship. Your bodies locked together, the coils of springs knotting tighter and tighter. 

“Y/N,” Jensen called again, his voice an octave higher. 

He couldn’t hold on much longer. He freed a hand to meet your apex once more and, with an expert’s touch, mirrored the movements he had learned only moments before. 

“Come for me, sweetheart.” He encouraged through strained teeth, fighting his own release. 

Quickly, he pried his hand from you, positioning your leg so your knee was held up by his forearm. It was too much to handle; deeper, harsher than before, electricity being sparked again and again at an unyielding pace. And when his hand returned, circling, you unraveled beneath his touch.

“Fuck,” he grunted not far behind and collapsed on top of you. 

--- 

“This is stupid,” You said, refusing to meet his gaze. 

It was already well into the morning as you stood by your second rental car, prolonging the inevitable by every minute possible. The hotel loomed overhead. A few fans, cast members, and crew remained, but the excitement of the weekend had dwindled. And both of you had places to be. Jensen to a flight in three hours back to Vancouver, and you back to your job who was all too willing to agree to some last-minute PTO but most likely would not be as grateful if you extended it any further.

“What’s stupid?” Jensen asked.

He took your chin in his grasp and tilted your head to meet his gaze. Concern grew across his face as a stray tear trickled down. He wiped it away with his thumb. 

“I’m three for three on leaving you at a hotel and crying as I do.” You shamefully admitted. 

He embraced you, tucking your head protectively under his chin. “It’ll get easier. I promise.” 

Dating your celebrity crush was new to you, but what terrified you the most was being new to a long-distance relationship. You nodded but still were not fully convinced. 

---

Continue Here to Part 10

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[arazialotis]

Can you add me to the get him to the con list please?🥰

Absolutely! I'd love to.

[arazialotis]

what is it that they put in supernatural that ruins your life