#Jensen Ackles Drabble

[a1ecmcdowell]

troubles in paradise — 90s!jensen x actress!reader (18+!!)

his hand is so tight over your mouth that his fingertips are white, the blunt edge of his short nails digging into the soft skin of your cheek. you're bent over the counter of his trailer's countertop, his free hand between your legs and holding your thighs open.

you'd already came twice. tears prickled in the corners of your eyes from the overstimulation of it all, but you're still just whipped enough to let him use you how he needs, exes or not.

"not so fuckin' mouthy now, are you?" he asks in your ear, words hissed through clenched teeth, the slapping sound that punctuates each of his thrusts as he buries himself in you the only noise in the small space. other than your muffled noises behind his palm, but you work to keep them down, knowing the louder you are, the tighter his hand gets. "not so bold?"

"mmm," you try, try to speak, but it only comes out as a shuddering throaty whine. "mmfuck you—"

his hand grasps your thigh tighter, forcing your hips back into each of his thrusts, deep enough to rock your hipbones into the edge of the counter, surely to bruise. just as bruised as you knew your cervix was becoming. "that's not very nice, sweetheart," he growls in your ear, his teeth clamping around the lobe, leaving a wet scrape as his mouth falls away from the biting kiss, "'ve been nothin' but kind to you... treatin' you better than you fuckin' deserve."

he's pissy. pissed that you had a kiss scene with another one of the actors on dark angel's set today, pissed that you did your job. he wasn't yours. you weren't his. not anymore, at least. but you kept him up at night, and his lingering stares made you crumble, even despite the disdain that you were convinced he felt toward you.

there was no guessing about it now. he was fucking you now like a punishment. "no, baby, i don't deserve that," he says to himself, his mouth dropping to your neck, sucking a maroon spot onto the untouched skin.

your eyes are fluttering into the back of your head, but all you can think about is how you are meant to explain this to your makeup artist in half an hour. his hand finally falls away from your mouth, though it doesn't go far. his fingertips are harsh when they snap your jaw to the side enough to look at him, to see his eyes.

half-lidded, glazed with the feelings he'd lost himself to, pupils blown into his irises. "i shouldn't care about you anymore," he whispers, leaning forward to drag your bottom lip back with him in the half-attempt at a kiss. "tell me why i do."

"i don't know," you whimper. the eye contact is... a lot. this no longer feels like a punishment but a plea. a broken heart expressing itself in the only way it knows how; with his fingers leaving purple and red kisses on your skin and his cock buried inside of you.

it's ironic, that those three words leave him just as speechless as the first time you said i love you did. just like then, he thinks you don't mean them. this time, you're not sure if you mean them either. there's a million unspoken words that hang like a swinging rope between you two, and nothing is said.

he grunts a couple of times in your ear, the sound softening into a little noise that could be a whimper but you know him, and he'd never say so either. his cock twitches as he spills inside of you.

he stays like that for a long while. his grip loosens on your jaw, and his fingers release your thigh, but his forehead falls to your shoulder.

the words linger on the tip of your tongue. every apology, every attempt at a reconciliation, and yet they stay there, just as unused as the last time you'd come in here with the intent to tell him off and ended up riding him on his trailer's couch.

a part of you knew that you only came this time to get any bit of his touch that he'd offer. a part of him knew, too, that this was not a proper breakup, but an angry, aggressive dance you guys did around the idea of it.

all of his anger is gone when he kisses the space where your jaw meets your throat, right over your racing pulse. "lemme get you cleaned up, alright?"

you can hear it, too, the words he meant to say and doesn't — never does. i'm sorry.

you don't say them, either, and so you know that you'll be back in here by the end of the week.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

i just wanted this out of my drafts to be honest so if it's bad ... no it's not thank YEWWW

. . . @deanswidow @titsout4jackles @cosmicanakin @jasvtsc @figthoughts @depressionbarbie2023 @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @ultravi0lence14 @ostaramoon

[deansbeer]

𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐒 SKIES & 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 TIES

001. ARE WE MORE THAN FRIENDS? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ִ ݁ ♡ .

✸ 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔; four months after you and jensen met.

PAIRING. cowboy!jensen x female reader ꒱

SYNOPSIS. it's been four month since you and jensen met during that stormy december, and now he's around a lot more. between family dinners, stolen moments, and clearing the air about daisy, things between you and jensen are getting sweeter—and a whole lot more complicated.

WARNING(S). fluff | hand-holding | forehead kisses | flirting | romantic tension | developing feelings | playful family teasing | confrontation (toward daisy) | made-up rumors | sisters' tease reader but r supportive of the blossoming relationship | dads' subtle matchmaking attempts | extended family (jensen's family) | past insecurities | self-consciousness | mutual pining | animal interactions (baby foal) | country lifestyle | ranch work references | rural texas.

kari yaps. merry xmas eve! my lil gift to u for the holidays. teehee, i'm already so obsessed w these two, not even kidding. this one is a lil longer than the prologue (obviously) so ur in for a ride !!! i want cowboy!jensen n his charming fine self <3333 yeehaw! 🏇 edit. i don't like how it came out, so im sorry, if it's shitty compared to the prologue :((( + im not feeling as festive & have been crying since earlier over it. anyway, i would hate to ruin anyone else's holiday spirit, so lemme just stop there <3 with that said, i hope ur all enjoying christmas, my loves. and to those who don't celebrate, i hope ur having an amazing day <3

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ୨ৎ 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘.

APRIL in texas brought wildflowers and warm breezes, painting the ranch in vibrant colors that made everything feel new again. four exact months had passed since that stormy december day when jensen first walked into your life, and somehow everything was different while staying exactly the same.

"he's coming over again?" hannah teased from her perch on the kitchen counter, watching you fidget with your hair in the reflection of the microwave door. "that's the third time this week."

"his dad and our dad are friends," you muttered, though you couldn't hide the flush creeping up your neck. "they're working on something."

kimberly snorted from the kitchen table. "yeah, working on getting you two married off."

"shut up, kim!"

"girls," your mom warned, but her eyes were twinkling as she kneaded dough for her famous cinnamon rolls. "leave your sister alone. though i must say, alan has been mighty pleased with how well you two get along."

you groaned, dropping your head onto the counter. "can we please talk about literally anything else?"

the sound of tires on gravel saved you from further torment. through the window, you could see alan's truck pulling up, jensen climbing out of the passenger side door. your heart did that annoying little flip it always did when you saw him now, but at least you'd learned to hide it better.

"sweetheart," your mom called as you headed for the door, "why don't you show jensen those new foals while your dad and his dad talk business?"

"subtle, mom. real subtle."

but you were already out the door, the spring air warm on your skin as you jogged down the porch steps. jensen met you halfway, that easy smile of his making your stomach flutter.

"hey," he said softly, like he always did, like it was just for you.

"hey yourself." you nodded toward the stables. "want to see the new additions?"

he fell into step beside you, close enough that your arms brushed. "lead the way."

the past four months had smoothed out most of the awkwardness between you, replaced it with something comfortable but charged with possibility. you'd learned things about him—how he took his coffee (black, two sugars), his favorite time of day (dawn, when the ranch was just waking up), how his laugh changed depending on what made him smile.

"you know," he starts, as you reached the stables, "my aunt martha's been asking about you."

you laughed, remembering the energetic woman from last month's family barbecue. "is she still convinced i need her secret recipe for peach cobbler?"

"she says, and i quote, 'that girl needs to know how to make a proper cobbler if she's gonna be part of this family.'"

your steps faltered slightly, but jensen pretended not to notice. that was another thing you'd learned about him—he knew when to push and when to let things breathe.

"your family's really taken a shine to me, huh?" you said, trying to keep your voice light as you led him to the newest foal's stall.

"can you blame them?" he leaned against the stable door, watching as you checked on the baby horse. "you're pretty easy to like."

before you could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air. "jensen! i thought that was your truck i saw!"

the happy bubble around you and jensen burst at daisy's sharp voice. she stood at the stable entrance like she owned it, her blonde hair perfectly curled despite the texas heat, wearing a sundress that seemed impractical for a ranch visit. your stomach twisted—she looked exactly like the kind of girl who belonged next to jensen.

"daisy." jensen's voice was flat, nothing like the warm tone he'd been using with you moments ago. his shoulders tensed, and he shifted slightly, putting himself between you and her.

"i've been trying to catch you at your place," she said, her boots clicking against the stable floor as she walked closer. each step felt deliberate, calculated. "daddy keeps saying you're never around anymore." her eyes flicked to you, a quick dismissive glance that made your skin crawl. "now i see why."

"been busy," jensen said shortly. you could see the way his jaw clenched, the way it did when he was holding back words. he turned back to you, deliberately showing daisy his back. "speaking of, you were gonna show me those training techniques you mentioned?"

daisy's perfectly painted lips curved into a sneer. "i guess the rumors about you two are true, then? funny, i always thought you had better taste, jensen."

"excuse me?" the words left your mouth before you could stop them.

jensen's hand found yours, squeezing gently. "there aren't any rumors, daisy," he said, his voice stern in a way you'd never heard before. "and even if there were, it wouldn't be any of your business. never has been."

she flushed, anger flashing across her face. "i just thought—"

"you thought wrong," he cut her off. "there was never a 'we', daisy. you decided there was something between us without ever asking me what i wanted. you showed up at my ranch uninvited, tried to insert yourself into my family, and spread rumors when i made it clear that i wasn't interested."

her composure began to crack. "that's not—i never—"

"you told half the county we were dating," jensen continued, his voice steady but angry. "even went as far as making things uncomfortable for everyone, including your dad. and now you're here, on private property, trying to do it again?"

"jensen—"

"you're wrong, daisy," he said firmly. "now, if you'll excuse us, we've got work to do. i'm sure you can find your way out."

daisy's face contorted with anger and embarrassment. "this isn't over," she spat, but her voice wavered. "daddy won't be happy about how you're treating me."

"your daddy knows exactly how i feel," jensen replied calmly. "has for months. why do you think he stopped bringing you around?"

she opened her mouth, closed it, then spun on her heel and stormed off. you could hear her volkswagen beetle engine rev aggressively as she peeled out of the ranch.

silence fell in the stable, broken only by the soft nickering of horses. jensen's hand was still holding yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your skin.

"i'm sorry about that," he said finally, turning to face you. "i should've handled that situation better months ago."

"you don't have to apologize," you reassured him. "it's not your fault she..."

"got obsessed?" he supplied with a wry smile. "yeah, well. maybe if i'd been clearer from the start about where my interests lay, she wouldn't have gotten the wrong idea."

your heart skipped. "your interests?"

his free hand came up to cup your cheek, and suddenly you couldn't remember why you'd ever worried about daisy at all.

"listen," he moved closer, his eyes serious. "whatever you heard about me and daisy... it wasn't true. never was. she just... decided things were a certain way, and no matter how many times i told her different, she wouldn't listen."

"oh." you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. "i just thought... i mean, everyone said—"

"everyone says a lot of things," he stepped closer, his fingers catching your chin. "but the only girl i've been interested in since last december is standing right here, trying real hard not to look at me."

your eyes snapped to his, heat flooding your face. "jensen..."

"dinner's ready!" kimberly's voice rang out across the yard, making you both jump apart.

jensen laughed, shaking his head. "your sisters have terrible timing."

dinner at your house had become a regular thing, both families crowded around the large oak table your grandfather had built. your mom had outdone herself tonight—pot roast, fresh rolls, and three different kinds of pie.

"this is incredible, melanie," alan said to your mom, helping himself to seconds. "you've outdone yourself."

"oh, it's nothing special," your mom waved him off, but she was beaming. "though, i did try that new seasoning donna suggested."

jensen's mom smiled warmly. "i told you it would make all the difference."

you were seated between jensen and hannah, trying to ignore the knowing looks both your sisters kept shooting your way. jensen's knee pressed against yours under the table, a steady warmth that made it hard to focus on your food.

"remember when these two first met?" your dad chuckled, gesturing between you and jensen. "her in those pajamas of hers, looking like she'd seen a ghost."

"dad!" you groaned as everyone laughed.

"oh, i remember," alan grinned. "jensen came home that very next day talking about—"

"hey, dad," jensen cut in quickly, his ears reddening. "maybe we should talk about something else?"

hannah leaned over to whisper in your ear. "bet he told his daddy all about how pretty y'looked in those shorts."

you elbowed her sharply, but you couldn't help smiling.

after dinner, everyone migrated to the back porch. the texas sunset painted the sky in pinks and purples, the air cooling just enough to be comfortable. you found yourself sitting on the porch swing with jensen, your families' voices creating a comfortable backdrop of chatter.

"so," you said softly, "what exactly did you tell your dad that night?"

jensen groaned. "you're not gonna let that go, are ya?"

"nope."

he was quiet for a moment, then he spoke up, "i told him i'd met the prettiest girl i'd ever seen, even if she was wearing pajamas and looked like she wanted to murder me."

"i did not!"

"sweetheart, you looked at me like i was the devil himself."

"well, you were smirking at me!"

"because you were adorable," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "still are."

before you could respond, kimberly's voice floated over, "you two want some privacy?"

"kim!" you hissed, but jensen just laughed, his arm sliding along the back of the swing behind you.

"nah," he answered coolly. "just enjoying the view."

your mom then appeared in the doorway, holding a fresh pie. "who wants dessert?"

as everyone headed inside, jensen caught your hand. "hey."

"yeah?"

"just... i'm glad your dad made you help that day. even if you did try to hide from me for weeks after."

you ducked your head, embarrassed. "well, to be fair, i thought you were dating daisy."

"never," he said firmly. "not her, not anyone. been waiting for the right girl."

"is that so?"

his thumb brushed over your knuckles, just like it had that night. "yeah."

"jensen! honey, you want apple or cherry?" his mom called.

he squeezed your hand once before standing, pulling you up with him. "we should get in there before they send out a search party."

"or before my sisters start making more comments?"

"that too." he tugged you closer, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead that left you stunned. "come on, pretty girl. let's go face the firing squad."

later that night, after both families had gone home and your sisters had thoroughly exhausted their teasing, you lay in bed thinking about everything. your mom poked her head in, smiling knowingly.

"you have a good day?"

"mom..."

she sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair back like she used to when you were a little girl. "you know, i remember when i first met your father. he had that same look in his eyes that jensen gets when he looks at you."

"mama," you whined, but you were smiling.

"i'm just saying," she stood, heading for the door. "some things are worth taking a chance on."

as you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom, you thought about jensen's words, about waiting for the right girl. maybe, just maybe, your mom was right.

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 taglist. @deanswidow @a1ecmcdowell @beausling @titsout4jackles @frosttbitessam @aileenunfiltered @deansbite @jasvtsc @fallbhind @ostaramoon @lacydollette @ultravi0lence14 @rubyvhs @s4wdvator @depressionbarbie2023 @spcncershasting @severe-mental-illness @lmg14 @bluestrd @starkeysprincess ◟ ☆ ݁ ⋆ 🏇 ˚⊹ ˖ ﾟ✶ ݁. comment OR send an ask to be added / removed !!!!!

𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍 © 2024. ✶ please DO NOT copy or plagiarize my works.

[figthoughts]

but like imagine dean fucking you with sam asleep in the same room… 18+

warnings: smut, caught in the act (dean x fem!reader)

*°࿐

“mmmph-”

you moaned against dean’s hand as he rocked his cock up into you, his tip brushing against your cervix.

“shhh, baby…” he cooed quietly, glancing over at his brother asleep in the bed next to yours.

“mmm, can’t…” you murmured against dean’s hand, following his gaze to the younger winchester. sam’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, his lips parted as soft breaths flowed in and out of his lungs.

dean’s hand stayed clamped over your mouth as his eyes flickered back to yours. your walls squeezed around him in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from gushing down his length again; you knew you couldn’t stay quiet if that happened.

“baby, come on,” dean muttered through laboured breaths, “shhhh.”

you couldn’t help the little whimpers and grunts that escaped you as dean continued to thrust his hips up into you, his girthy cock stretching your pussy so deliciously.

“ahh, dean,” you moaned out, squeezing your eyes shut as the pleasure continued to build.

“shhh…” dean whispered again, his cock twitching up into your cunt, “you wake sammy, babe, and he’ll be so mad.”

you felt your pussy tighten around dean’s cock again, nearing another orgasm at the thought of getting caught in such a compromising position. dean bit his bottom lip and scrunched his face, trying to hold in a groan at the feeling. he was barely keeping himself together.

the quiet but lewd sounds of him pumping into your wet cunt filled the room, along with both your soft grunts and the squeaking of the motel bed.

sam let out a groan and rolled over to face you and dean. you both froze, watching and waiting for his hazel eyes to flicker open and catch you two in the act.

but they didn’t. instead they stayed shut. dean hesitantly slid himself back up into you, keeping his eyes on his brother. you watched sam too.

your thoughts started racing around in your head and you couldn’t deny it, some fucked up part of you kinda wanted to get caught riding dean.

dean’s fingers began rubbing your sensitive clit again, making you whimper as he thrusted in and out of you.

“shush, i’m serious.”

you pouted against his hand, “c-can’t… feels too good…”

he gripped your face tighter, “we’ll have to stop if you can’t keep quiet, baby.”

his words sent a flash of panic through your body, your head instantly shaking as you grinded on him, desperate to show him you can be good.

“that’s it. nice and quiet,” he said breathily, feeling you clench around him even more, knowing you were about to let go, “stay quiet for me, angel.”

you hissed and tried to hold back whimpers as you came all over his cock again, your juices leaving a creamy ring around his length as he pumped into you.

dean groaned at the feeling of you gushing all over his cock. his own release washed over him. he shot thick warm ropes of his seed deep into your cunt, making you whimper and clench again as his hips jerked up. he pulled you down against him and buried his head in your neck, letting out louder grunts and moans.

“can you guys shut the fuck up?” sam groaned. you felt a pillow hit the side of you as you laid flat on dean, his softening cock still inside you. you laughed softly in dean’s ear.

“sorry, sammy,” dean smirked as he rubbed your back. he moved his head to look over at his brother, who had turned away and pulled the blanket over his head completely.

dean laughed and pulled you even closer to him, wrapping his arms around you as he whispered in your ear, “oops.”

A/N: wrote and edited this high so ignore it if something’s grammatically incorrect or doesn’t make sense LOL anyways poor sam :( i’m laughing so hard

requests and feedback are welcome and encouraged!! thank uuu <3

[jasvtsc]

thirst

he looked like a caveman, that’s for sure.

his hair was a bit longer and his beard was just… huge, going in every direction possible. it was as if he hadn’t shaved in ages—well, and he technically didn’t. after all, he spent years trapped in a deep sleep in a russian lab.

so it wasn’t surprising that he had all these pent-up emotions when he woke up. he was like a bomb, ready to explode at any given moment. literally. you just weren’t sure whether it would be caused by anger, annoyance, stress or even worse—arousal. soldier boy was known not only as america’s hero but also as its sex symbol. even nowadays, women would sigh in amazement at his pictures in museums or just say how they wished they’d been born earlier. and the older ones, some that got to have that experience back in the day, kept marvelling at how amazing he was in bed and how it’d been the best night of their entire life (and all of them, of course, were married). which, of course, ben bragged about cause how else could he not?

and well, he certainly lived up to the expectations.

butcher and hughie left to get some things for him (food and drugs), so you were left alone with soldier boy, to babysit him as a precaution. and to be honest, there wasn’t much babysitting done when he already got you naked on the bed, whimpering like crazy as his head was between your legs.

at this point, you’re not even sure what led to soldier boy eating you out. you were trying to lecture him on some random topic he saw on tv and acted like an ignorant jackass, but then you started arguing and making random bets. suddenly, you felt that he was about to blow something up again, so you just acted out and kissed him.

the rest was history.

he wanted a good fuck and you certainly needed it.

“you taste so good, baby,” he growled between your slick folds, his tongue eagerly lapping all your juices like a man dying of thirst as his long beard was tickling your skin. “i should’ve eaten this pretty pussy hours ago,” he chuckled, his lips now sucking on your clit, stimulating you even more.

you moaned and arched your back, pressing your soaked cunt into his face. you tugged on his hair, trying to get him closer and to your surprise, he didn’t protest—instead, he eagerly dug his head deeper, his tongue flicking over your sensitive bud. you looked down and gasped, seeing his face buried deep between your thighs that he was squeezing tightly, and you just knew that it'd leave some dark marks on your skin.

not that you'd mind.

suddenly, he looked up at you and smiled devilishly, his face glistening with your essence. you let out a needy whine at this sight, bucking your hips towards his face, showing your clear desperation for him to get back to what he started. he only chuckled and licked his lips as his fingers prodded at your entrance, teasing you even more.

"you want to cum, baby? huh? gonna squirt all over my face?"

as if you didn't do that four times already.

a/n: inspired by this ask

[wchswift]

Gossiping with Dean ༉‧₊˚ 

The other day my best friend and I were in a parking lot and a couple in the car next to us started arguing and it just made our afternoon even more interesting. Afterwards, all I could think about was Dean, because I'm sure he and I would gossip a lot together. So I just decided to write a drabble about it... This is my first drabble so apologies if it's not the best <3

mdni 𖤐 18+

The motel room was quiet except for the rhythmic creak of the ceiling fan. Dean leaned back on the bed, his boots crossed at the ankles, looking equal parts bored and restless. The flickering TV had finally given up, leaving the two of you with nothing but static and silence.

“This is boring,” you mumbled, poking Dean’s side. "Guess we'll have to entertain ourselves."

Dean smirked, glancing over at you. "I can think of a few ways—"

You cut him off with a playful shove, laughing. "Keep it in your pants, Winchester." Rising from the bed, you peeked through the curtains. “Why don’t you come over here? At least there’s people-watching.”

Dean groaned but pushed himself up, ambling over to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms loosely around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “What’s so riveting out there?”

Then movement caught your eye. In the far corner of the lot, a car rocked slightly as voices rose from within. A man and a woman were locked in a heated argument, their hands gesturing wildly through the windows.

“Oh, this is better than TV,” Dean said, grinning. “What’s the bet?” he asked. “He forgot their anniversary?”

“Or she found his burner phone,” you replied with a grin.

Dean chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Classic. Always check the glovebox.”

The two of you settled in, throwing theories back and forth like kids trading secrets. The drama unfolded below, oblivious to its peanut gallery. You leaned closer to Dean, and he tilted his head toward yours, the moment cozy despite the spectacle.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Sam walked in carrying a bag of takeout. He froze, eyebrows furrowing as he took in the sight of you and Dean cuddling together while pressed against the window like nosy neighbors.

"What are you two doing?" Sam asked, setting the bag on the table.

"Research," Dean said with a smirk, not bothering to move.

"On?"

"Human behavior," you chimed in, barely stifling a laugh. "Fascinating stuff, really."

Sam shook his head, grabbing a soda from the bag. "You two are ridiculous."

"Admit it, Sammy. You wanna know what happens next," Dean teased.

Sam rolled his eyes, but as he sat down to eat, you noticed him glance toward the window. Dean shot you a knowing grin, and the two of you silently agreed: sometimes, the best entertainment came free with the room.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Pure Filth

Pic used: x - It has not been altered.

Summary: You and Jensen enjoy a brief interlude back stage.

Pairings: Rockstar!Jensen x Musician!Reader (You)

Warnings: Smut. Dirty imagery. Brief fingering. Unprotected PinV sex. Public sex (mostly - your backstage, people are around). Little bit of dirty talk.

Word Count: 801

A/N: Okay, so I'm for sure still working on Chapter 5 and 6 of The Quicksilver Princess and barring some sort of disaster, I'll post both chapters by next Friday.

But I still haven't been able to get Austin out of my mind. The man is an absolute sex rock god! and the concert is lingering in my mind. I know I'm not alone. I got this request from @kayyay1219 and I knew I had to write something else besides Whiskey, Neat.

Hope you enjoy!! ❤️

As always, of course, this is a single, multiverse version of Jensen. This is a complete and utter work of fiction. 😊

His head was thrown back, his pearl white teeth sunk deep into his plush bottom lip as you rubbed him through his jeans. His body still dripped sweat and the tang of it hit your nose as you buried your face in his neck.

You and Jensen had barely made it off the stage before he'd slipped behind some stacked up equipment boxes to slam you against the wall there, only partially shielding you both from the eyes of those who were running around backstage. 

It didn't matter. 

The rest of the band and the road crew knew how the two of you were together. You fought hard, fucked hard, and made incredible, electric music together.

That volatile combination was what brought endless, teeming crowds to your concerts and made the band skyrocket to the top of the charts over and over again.

So everyone just dealt with the fallout from it.

Jensen's lips were frantic and searching now; he breathed you in as he ran his tongue along your jaw before plunging it, wide and wet, into your open, waiting mouth.

As he inhaled you, consumed you, his hands were pulling at your clothes, shoving them up and out of his way so he could dimple your soft, yielding flesh with his hard fingers, squeezing you so tight it felt like he was leaving his fingerprints behind.

You pushed your hands up under the tank top he wore, running them over his sticky skin to his back, loving the way his muscles flexed and moved under your roaming fingers. 

He lifted your tight black skirt so it sat around your waist and then pushed your panties aside so he could swipe his middle finger and forefinger through your hot, wet slick, coating them quickly.

“Unf, fuck, fuck…” He chanted into your ear, before growling loudly as you raked your nails down his beautiful back, collecting him under your nails. The skin and sweat there made you feel dirty and clean at the same time.

You often joked with each other that the life you lived together was pure filth.

The way you loved each other was pure, even if it was dangerous. The way you clung to each other as Jensen slammed into you, acting as an alchemist, changing you from two beings into one. He was Plato, putting the two halves of your one soul back together, and it was pure. 

But the sounds you both made, the physical reality of the moment between you was filthy. The way he grunted as he desperately tried to get even deeper inside you, the way you sucked in too much air and let it slowly leak out of you in an earthy, whining sigh, the way your bodies slid against one another, slick with sweat - it was filthy.

The two of you together were pure filth.

In the hot, thick cacophony of backstage, he fucked you hard and deep, your leg held to his hip as he drove into you. His other hand was pressed tight against your clit, his fingers circling and creating a sharp and aching pleasure that you knew was about to explode.

He knew it too, and when he spoke his voice was rough, whiskey soaked and demanding, the same voice he used when he sang your songs on stage.

“I want everything from you, baby, squeeze me so fucking tight. Give me all your heat and all your screams.” 

He bent his head to lick the salt from your skin and suck on your neck, drinking you in like smooth, sweet tequila.

With his final thrust, you gave up all he asked for, screaming and clenching around him so tightly that he came instantly, his body rutting against you as your pussy milked him dry. 

You both stood on shaky legs and pulled in shaky breaths as he crushed you against the wall, the only thing keeping the two of you propped up.

Less than a minute passed before you heard your stage manager calling out to you both, standing far enough away that she wouldn't get an unsolicited peep show.

“Come the fuck on, you two!" She yelled at you. “The crowd's going ape shit for an encore!” She walked away, shaking her head indulgently.

You managed to help each other stand up straight; you tucked Jensen back into his jeans, and he pulled your skirt back down.

The way you could feel his cum slowly leaking out of you, staining your panties and wetting your thighs, was indecently filthy.

But the warmth in his shining green eyes as he looked down at you, and the way you could both feel your hearts pick up the rhythm of the drums as they called you to the stage - that was beautifully pure.

It was the Yin and Yang of your lives with one another and you wouldn't have changed that perfect balancing act for anything.

Tag Lists:

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

*

@alwaystiredandconfused

@jzackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

*

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

*

@arcannaa

@viviwatchestv

@winharry

@ladysparkles78

@kr804573

*

@whimsyfinny

*

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

*

@waywardcheshire

*

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

*

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

*

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

@fanfic-n-tabulous

[wayward-dreamer]

Ritual

Square/s filled: Marathon sex @spnkinkevents

Pairing: Jensen x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 885

Summary: Jensen and Y/N have a ritual that they always stick to whenever he comes back from a long filming schedule.

Warnings: Swearing, smut: dirty talk, implied oral sex (f receiving) unprotected sex (wrap it up people), rough sex, marathon sex, fluff.

A/N: trying to drabble my way out of a creative block. Happy reading! :)

Y/N really hated it whenever Jensen had to leave for a project. She always understood, and she never held him back because that’s not the person she was. She’d never stop him from doing what he loved most, but she could definitely lament about the fact that he was often gone for months at a time. They would see each other for a weekend every few weeks, whenever he was free or going to a Supernatural convention where she’d meet up with him if she could and wasn’t working herself. It was difficult but they made it work.

Plus their reward whenever he came home at the end of the whole project was the best part.

It didn’t matter how many times their phones rang, chimed with texts, whenever he returned neither of them came up for air until they were both satisfied.

Y/N had been out running errands while Jensen arrived home from his two-and-a-half month long shoot, where they had only seen each other on one weekend and spent a lot of nights having phone sex. As soon as she got his text, she rushed out of the store she was in after paying, and hurried back to the house, being careful on the roads despite her urgency. He had just stepped out of the shower when she dumped the bags by the door and jumped him, stripping him of his towel in one quick pull and pushing him down on their bed.

He turned and placed her on her back, drifting down between her legs as he pulled her flowy skirt off as he went down on his knees. It wasn’t long before his skilled tongue and fingers brought her first orgasm like waves over her body, her hands tight in his hair as his name fell from her lips in breathy moans. As he stood and flipped her over onto all fours, he stroked his shaft before he entered her in one quick shift of his hips, wasting no time in wanting to feel that euphoric bliss he only got with her.

Jensen’s thrusts were hard, long strokes into her clenching walls, his pelvis undulating against the curve of her ass as their pleasured sounds, words of endearing filth and the slapping of skin became the soundtrack to their vigorous love-making. The result of not having seen each other in so long. Her second release came just as quickly as the first, her fists pulling at the sheets underneath her convulsing frame as a shrieking moan escaped her. She felt her wetness flow over his cock, still hard inside her, but that wasn’t good enough for her. She needed to feel him let go; she needed to feel the warmth of his release.

Y/N hissed slightly as she shifted forward, feeling a delicious ache between her legs as he slipped out of her, turning around and placing her hands on his shoulders to push him down on his back before he could even question it. She straddled his hips, taking his length in her hand and pumping him a few times before she notched him to her waiting heat. A long, shuddering whimper left her as she slid down onto him, their eyes locked on each other as he groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he husked, staring up at her in awe. “This view never gets old, darlin’.”

She hummed as a smile spread across her face, her hands planted firmly on his chest to use as leverage as she began to move, rocking her hips back and forth. They moved rapidly, chasing not only another burst of ecstasy for herself, but for him too. She could feel how close he was, the tell-tale signs of his grip tightening on her hips and his neck straining, veins pressing against the skin as his gaze darkened while he looked up at her. It was her favorite view of him.

“You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice rasping and deep. “You gonna cum hard, soak my cock, right?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, as she threw her head back, eyes squeezed shut. “Want-want you to c-cum too-”

“Oh, I’m right there with ya, darlin’,” he reassured her, his hips beginning to move up to meet her thrusts. “Gonna cum so hard in your tight, perfect little pussy…”

Y/N felt her core tightening with every sinful word from his plump lips, the dam breaking before she could properly anticipate it, falling over the edge once more as her arousal covered him. It didn’t take him long to go over after her, a drawn out “fuckkk” escaping him as he grunted, ropes of his cum mingling with her wetness as it coated her walls.

Jensen smirked as he closed his eyes, basking in the feeling that washed over him as she rolled off, settling in next to him. They breathed heavily as he opened them, his green orbs meeting hers as they smiled at each other.

“I’m gonna need a couple minutes,” he chuckled, before he carried on, shifting closer to her, his lips hovering over hers. “But there’s no way I’m done with you yet, darlin’.”

She giggled, pecking his lips once, twice. She loved this little ritual of theirs.

“I’m counting on it.”

[imyourbratzdoll]

Dean meets waitress! reader and the two decided to bang in the car!

hello, sorry this took so long! I hope you like it.

warning - smut, sex in the car, creampie, hookup.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

Your waitress uniform was scrunched up around your waist, giving Dean a perfect view of his cock thrusting in and out of you. His pretty green eyes roll to the back of his head at the feel of your walls squeezing him. “Jesus!” Dean’s hands grip your hips, bouncing you on his throbbing cock. “You feel so good, sweetheart! I swear this is the best goddamn pussy I’ve ever had!” The growl that leaves him sends shivers down your spine, causing your walls to pulse around him and your back to arch.

“Uh-huh.” Your head feels fuzzy as you nod. His swollen tip hits the deepest parts of you, and your hips bounce faster, making the most of this experience. Your hands make their way to his hair, gripping it tightly as you feel your high approach. “C–Cumming, I’m gonna cum! Oh!” Your head falls back, and a silent moan escapes you as your walls tighten around his cock, and you let go.

“Fuck! Fuck! Jesus– shit! So fucking tight! I’m so fucking close!” He grabs your hips, pulling you down onto his cock as he pounds into you. He crashes his lips into yours, and your tongues fight for dominance as you both huff in pleasure. “Shit– shit! I’m cumming!” Dean grunts, nipping your bottom lips as he buries deep inside you. White spurts of cum shoot out of his thick cock and into you. You lean back into the car seat, both trying to catch your breath.

Slowly moving off of his softening cock, you begin to fix your uniform. Dean’s head rests against the backseat, watching you with hooded eyes. His hand lands on your thigh, squeezing it. You look up and give a curt smile. “Well, this was great. Thanks for the ride.” Opening the back door, you quickly hop out.

“Wait! Give me your number so I can call you!” Dean leans forward, looking up at you with those pretty green eyes. You smile, tapping his cheek softly.

“Nah, but thanks anyway.” And with that, you begin to walk back to the diner. Leaving Dean to watch you with a mix of shock and awe, watching as you continue to make sure you look presentable. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[jawritter]

His Good Boy

Summary: Jeff just loves to make Jensen suffer...

Rating: MATURE!!! THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!!

Word Count: 710

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Jeffery Dean Morgan (I said what I said)

Written For: @spnkinkevents

Prompt: Free Space (Daddy Kink/Praise Kink/Sub-Dom)

Warnings: *whew, here we go* SMUT! Penatrative Smut, M/M, Dom!JDM x Sub!Jensen, Praise Kink, Daddy Kink, Control Kink, Light Bondage, Pain Kink if you know where to look, Cheating, Language. Orgasm Control. Shaming, Begging. (I hope that's everything, cause I feel like I'm missing something)

A/N: *chuckles to self while heavily debating on not posting this...* This is the first bit if Kinky smut I've written in a long time. So be nice, cause I've NEVER written this kinda smut before. Any who, this is completely unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine! Feedback is golden! Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

"Please let me touch it, Oh fuck! Please, I need to touch it!" Jensen begged through gritted teeth, any pride or shame he had left had been thrown out of the window a long time ago.

His body was shivering, his thigh and leg muscles burning. Small beads of sweat rolled down his naked body, creating little lines of moisture that disappeared into nothing on top of his burning skin. His erect cock stood hard, red, and dripping between his legs. It was heavy, tingling, and full. He ached to touch himself as he watched it bob up and down seamlessly as he rode Jeff's cock in the same steady rhythm that he demanded of he keep pace to.

"Oh no pretty boy, what did Daddy tell you? You're gonna ride Daddy's cock until you cum untouched, and you're so close, to close to give up now," John said, his voice steady and even as his dark eyes watched Jensen bounce on his thick length harder, desperate and ready to fucking explode as Jeff tightened the grip he had on the belt that kept Jensen’s wrist tide firmly behind his back.

Jensen sobbed back a moan as his head lulled slightly, and he quickened his pace, his legs were twitching and jumping as he strained to somehow get himself off before he lost his goddamn mind while he all but rutted Jeff's cock deeper into his tight hole, adding even more delicious pressure to his prostate, and making his dick leak more as it twitched hard. Jeff moaned at the sight, damn near blowing his own load too soon.

"Come on Baby, you're not gonna cry and give up now are you? Such a good boy, taking my cock so well Jay. You're so fucking close, just let go, let yourself cum."

"PLEASE, HELP ME DADDY, PLEASE! JUST LET ME TOUCH IT FOR YOU!" Jensen pleased, and John's hips jerked forward, causing Jensen to be thrust forward and down again on Jeff's dick. God if he kept begging like that he was gonna make him cum in that pretty little ass of his, and he was gonna have his cum dripping out of his pretty little used hole, and into those expensive boxers during ops again. He's pretty sure one of the handlers could even smell it last time. The shame, that is...

Jeff continued to fuck upward unto Jensen as Jensen’s desperation grew, and he rode and rutted Jeff's cock into him with vigor, his whole body vibrating with pleasure and pain. It was a site Jeff would surely commit to memory.

"Shhhh," he hushed him, "Don't want Dee and Hil to know your Daddy's favorite little cock slut, and they're just outside that door there with your fans. Don't want them to know either now, be a good boy and cum for Daddy."

Jensen growled as his perfect white teeth sank into his lower lip, and his cock twitched again before cum, hot and white shot onto Jeff's bare chest, and Jensen’s body twitched and jerked above him as he finally found his release. The chair Jeff was sitting in creaked loudly, but he didn't care much

"God Boy, such a good boy," John moaned as he helped Jensen from his own cock and onto his knees, his hands still firmly tied behind his back. Jensen was so weak and pretty, his body still cock drunk and shivering lightly. What a fucking sight.

"Now," Jeff said as he stroked himself hard and fast right in front of Jensen's pretty, panting mouth. "Open up, and swallow like the good boy you are."

And he did, he was always such a good boy, next time, he was going to have to let him touch it.

Jeff moaned at the thought as he came into Jensen’s hot, waiting mouth, bracing Jensen’s jaw with one rough hand as Hilarie knocked outside of the door.

"Jeff! Baby! Have you seen Jensen? The handlers need him at autos!" She called, Jeff smirked down at his favorite little fuck toy while he worked to free his hands.

"Na babe! Haven't seen him! Maybe Jared has!" He called back over his shoulder, and Hil cursed as she marched off to find Jared.

"Now go clean yourself up, you have a con to finish, and when it's over, if you’re a good boy, I might fuck you again later."

"Yes sir," Jensen answered breathlessly as he watched Jeff slip out of the room after cleaning himself up and dressing quickly.

And fuck he couldn't wait to be his good boy.

Forever:

@whittysunflower

@demongirl1996  

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe

@jensenslady79

@spnwoman

@stoneyggirl2

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@stixnstripesworld

@fullwattpadmusictree

@nancymcl

@christycreature

@whiskey-infused-dreams

@supernatural79impala

@deandreamernp

@forgetthisbull

@miraclesoflove

@slamminmine

@deanwanddamons

@rvgrsbrns

@chevyharvelle

@i-love-superhero-movies

@lyss-dw79

@magssteenkamp

@lemondropirwin

@squirrelnotsam

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67  

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@defenderrosetyler

@thecreatiivecorner  

@vicmc624

@busy-bee-angel-misska

@justanotherwinchester

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@idksupernatural

@lyarr24

@emoryhemsworth

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel

@flamencodiva

@itmejado

@thoughts-and-funnies

@teresa-67

@hearteyes-j2

@peaches007

@bobbie3939

@vulgar-library

@writercole

@fairlyspnfanfic

@sexyvixen7

@spngi

@b3autyfuldisast3r

@donnaintx

@maliburenee

@the-family-business67

@agirlwithdemonblood

@captainsoldiergirl

@twinkleinadiamondsky

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma  

@impalaslytherin

@perpetualabsurdity

@msmarvelouswinchester

@akshi8278

@love-jackles

@irmcpar

@pink-sparkly-witch

@deans-spinster-witchs-favorites​

@herstarburststories​

@mimaria420​

@deanwinchesterswitch​

@charred-angelwings​

@pascal-rascal424​

@myloversgone​

@fortheloveof-jackles​

@eevvvaa​

@bts-spnlvr12​

@jxackles​

@lassie-bird​

@samsgirl93​

@shawnie74​  

@kaz11283​

@mlovesstories​

@ladysparks78

[a1ecmcdowell]

( AFTERCARE ) . . .ㅤㅤONE !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ ㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE new rock band in town has some nerve, causing mayhem in the venue next to your studio every night. but how do you stay MAD at the lead singer when he looks at you like that ?

PART ONE. good girl faith !ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes, jensen is an asshole. sassy!reader. fictional bandmates. fictional locations. maybe improper ballet terminology. reminder that this is a slowburn!!

parts will get longer, probably, as relationship develops.

ㅤㅤㅤ─ word count: 1.9k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprev partㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤmasterlistㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤnext partㅤㅤㅤ.

ㅤㅤA/N. i do not know ballet terminology so if anything is wrong forgive me i'm just a girl romanticizing a bad boy / good girl dynamic </3 if it's right though ... i literally knew all of this and never doubted it!!

ㅤTHERE was a lot of pressure riding on you this ballet season. principal dancer was a hard role to achieve, and after months of painstaking practice, you’d managed it. with winter fast approaching ( even though, in dallas, it was hardly noticeable at all — it felt more like a proper autumn than anything ) the laurel dance academy was putting on sleeping beauty.

and you’d managed to snag aurora. 

not only was it a feat in itself getting into laurel, the most highly sought after dance academy on the upper side of dallas, but you’d gotten a lead in your second year attending the college. it was something to be proud of, of course — but not something to let yourself get caught up on. 

that was why you were at the dance studio that fateful night.

it was cooler than usual, crisp air breezing between the streetlights and dancing through the scattering leaves, as you made your way across the street to destiny dance. the one at laurel, of course, was much better, but it was on the entire other side of town than your apartment. 

destiny was across the street and accessible, and so you spent the majority of your time there when not at the academy. that was your life summed up — dancing for practice, and dancing for learning. 

the workers at destiny knew you by name at that point, and even gave you a key to let yourself in whenever you needed, since you tended to only have time to drop in after they’d closed. 

you sat on the wooden floor and started the process of removing your shoes and trading them for your pointe shoes, when there was a loud unmistakable thump from the wall. 

the building to the right of destiny dance was a small coffee shop — and therefore closed. the building to the left, as far as you knew, was empty. vacant. it was once a concert venue, but it hadn’t been such in a long time. 

you brushed it off after a couple of minutes, making sure to see if it happened again, and when it didn’t, you finished lacing the pointe shoes up your ankles.

even though you didn’t have to when you were practicing, you took dance extremely seriously. it was just how you were. it was your passion, had been since you were young; that was why you were here tonight, after all. when you could have come in a simple leotard and skirt, you’d chosen a sleek black one that you loved, and a pale pink skirt that every student at laurel was provided. the best of the best, because looking the best meant performing the best, and that was what you strived for. 

it was not even a split second before you’d propped your leg up on the balance beam to stretch out your thigh when the thumping started up again. it was easier to tell this time, where it’d come from: the left. the abandoned venue. 

and it wasn’t just a single thump like the first, it was a series of them. pounding, rattling the mirrors lining the studio’s walls. you watched, in disbelief, as the glass shook and rattled against the plaster behind it. 

fury bubbles up in your blood, and before you know it, you’re stomping toward the studio’s front doors. in all of the time that you’d been practicing at destiny dance, no one had broken into the abandoned building next door. it was on a highly populated street in the city, for christ’s sake! and the fact that someone had broken in, and was practically flaunting it—

yeah, you were a bit angry. even if you hadn’t come to practice that night, you would’ve still had to hear the blaring speakers and the thumping bass. your apartment complex was across the street, and from your venture outside, it was evident that it was just as loud out there as it felt inside the studio. 

to your shock, there were lights on inside of the venue. shoddily strung ones, sure, but lights nonetheless. when you went to try the door, you found it not only unlocked, but gapped. whoever broke in wasn’t just asking to be caught, they were inviting the authorities right in. 

the venue was small, but much more spacious than how it looked on the outside. there was a huge open space directly in front of the stage, a thin coating of dust turning the glossy wood a dull gray color, and behind a barricade, rows upon rows of black seats. 

everything looked a bit dusty, but not decimated, like you expected. when you heard from other locals that sunset blvd was abandoned, you expected it to be in ruins. 

what you did not expect, of course, was for there to be a full band on the expansive stage directly to the left of you. not a single one of the four people on stage noticed you, which was expected. the music they were blaring out was loud enough that it would mask the sound of you slamming the glass entrance door behind you. 

so, you stomped your happy little ass right down the center of the rows of seats. one of the seats was pulled down from its folded position and held a cooler, lid propped open and exposing icy water and handfuls of beer cans. littered around your feet were the remnants of what they must have been drank already. 

someone must have noticed you while you’d been eyeing their mess, because the music comes to a slow, decrescendoing halt. a loud, echoing guitar strum fades out slowly. 

your eyes lift, and you’re met with the most piercing green ones you’ve ever seen. and of course, you don’t let this deter you at all, because you’re infuriated, but it’s an observation you clock instantly. along with the fact that they belong to what must be the lead singer. 

he has dark brown hair to his chin, sweaty strands strung across his forehead. facial hair is neatly trimmed along his jawline and above his full lips. he’s wearing a cut-off sleeve black t-shirt with a band you’ve never heard of printed on the front, exposing thick muscled arms covered in ink black tattoos down to the knuckles. each hand adorned at least one silver ring. 

and he was looking right at you, something unreadable in his gaze — but amusement definitely prominent. his eyes raked over you like he was undressing you slowly with nothing but that gaze. and it took only a few seconds longer for you to realize why. 

“are you lost?” the man asks, and god, does he sound arrogant. he’s still got that stupid look in his eyes, too, firm muscled arms crossed over his broad chest.

your anger comes back tenfold when one of the guys behind him holding a guitar strums it again, and the sound echoes through the building. “no,” you have to shout it, and that only makes your fury more red hot and blistering, “i’m not lost. can you turn your music down?” 

“no can do.” the man gives a solid shake of his head back and forth, and that’s it. he’s turning around like this entire conversation means nothing and is nothing, and he’s dismissing you.

and that just won’t do. 

“hey, i’m not done here,” you shout again, even though it’s not necessary this time. if he won’t take you seriously, then necessary measures have to be taken, don’t they? “i’m trying to practice next door, and i can’t even hear myself think with your stupid guitar—” 

“bass,” he interjects over his shoulder, and you can’t see his face from his elevated stature, but you can see the dimple in the cheek that’s turned to face you. “that one’s not the guitar. reggie, can you…” 

“yeah, on it,” says whoever the hell reggie is, and before your eyes can even flick to which of the three bandmates surrounding the man it could be, the loudest guitar riff you’ve ever heard echoes throughout the empty venue. 

you must physically flinch, because the lead singer’s mouth turns up in an infuriating smirk. your expression, though, never falters from the irritation it’s been since you walked in. 

“that,” he shouts over the onslaught of sound, “is guitar.”

“are you done?” you ask when the sound trails off into static again, and then silence. 

lead singer shakes his head. takes a couple of steps toward you again, his booted steps echoing on the wooden floor of the stage. he bends, kneeling, and even that has him still looking down on you. “why are you practicing if the place next door is closed?” he asks, his softened voice twinged with a playful lilt. 

“why are you here if the place is shut down?” you shoot back, your arms crossed firmly over your chest. still, though, the bastard has the audacity to try and steal a glance at your covered chest. “can you just turn the speakers down or something? why are you making such a fuss?” 

“you’re right,” he concedes, and it makes you downright bristle at how easily he does now, now that you’ve stood here like a fool for ten minutes, arguing with a man you don’t know and having your eardrums blown out. “you just tell me when it’s good, princess, and i’ll stop.” 

you open your mouth to ask what the hell that means, but he’s already walking away again. his stride is arrogant and slow, footsteps echoing again on the wood, until he stops in front of one of the speakers. 

his index and thumb close around a small knob on the bottom of the speaker, his eyebrows shooting up in a silent question as he watches your reaction. reggie, you assume, starts mindlessly strumming his guitar again. ever so slightly, the sound quietens. 

“more,” you say, your lips in a firm line. 

the lead singer’s lips, though, quirk at the corners. he complies. it’s better, but not nearly enough. 

“more,” you say again, more firmly this time, your foot tapping in your irritation. he was toying with you, and you knew it — but it was working, and that was what was getting you so angry.

again, he concedes, and still, it’s loud enough that the entire room is filled with the sound of a guitar’s melody.

“jesus christ, more,” you say, and it’s lucky that the guitar is so loud, because you do stomp your foot in punctuation out of your fury. 

finally, finally, the sound is quiet enough that it doesn’t make your eardrums feel like they’re bleeding. the smile you shoot to the lead singer is sickly sweet and not at all genuine. 

you can’t even feel that satisfaction for very long, though, because he’s wearing a smile nearly identical. 

“what are you looking at me like that for?” you snap, a little too loudly this time, now that the room isn’t riddled with the background feedback of the speakers and the hum of the band’s music. 

the lead singer’s shoulders lift in a little shrug, and even from your distance, you can see the glimmer in his green eyes. “just… thinking about how sexy it would be to have those pretty pink lips saying that in a different context.” 

your face immediately reddens. there’s one, two, three seconds before you realize there isn’t a snarky comeback loaded up in the chamber, not to that, and you turn promptly on your heel to stomp out of the building.

it isn’t until your leg is propped on the balance beam again, thigh muscle aching with the stretch, that the mirrors begin to rattle again. 

and you realize, too, that there were two speakers on that stage.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFEEDBACK & REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! < 3

tags! @happyladyduck, @casatoan, @mo0nwalker, @manicjk, @stereotypicalbarbie, @inpraise0fbacchus !

[deansbeer]

﹒ ꣑୧ lil jensen drabble 'cause he's the prettiest cowboy ever to exist 🤠

i visualized this set around the time while he was filming for BIG SKY — don't know why, but it might have something to do with the cowboy references

⎯⎯ warning(s) smut | f!reader | penetration | dominance | control dynamics | praise kink | pet names ( sweetheart, darlin', babydoll ) | sub!jensen | dom!reader | cowgirl position. ఌ︎ EIGHTEEN PLUS! ADULT CONTENT | minors do NOT interact.

you're perched on top of him, his favorite stetson resting on your head, a little too big but somehow perfect on you. the brim tilts slightly as you move, slow and lazy, rolling your hips over him like you've got all the time in the world. he's a wreck beneath you, hands gripping your hips like they're the only thing tethering him to sanity, but he doesn't dare take control. not when you've got that look in your eyes, not when you're holding the reins.

"sweetheart," he groans, voice thick and needy, "darlin', c'mon—let me—please, babydoll." every word is drenched in desperation, his drawl getting rougher with every syllable, but you just smirk down at him.

"easy, cowboy," you tease, your voice sweet but firm, fingers trailing down his chest. "you're not in charge right now."

and god, the way you say it—low and sultry, like you know exactly what it does to him—makes him whine. actually whine. you roll your hips again, slow and deliberate, watching the way his jaw tightens, the way his green eyes darken as they drink you in. he looks at you like you're a dream, all flushed and hazy and perfect, and you can feel the way his muscles tense beneath you, wanting so badly to thrust up into you.

but he doesn't. because you're in control, and he'd do just about anything to see that wicked little grin light up your face again.

"you look so goddamn beautiful," he murmurs, voice wrecked, the words tumbling out of him like a prayer. "my girl. my perfect girl."

you bite back a moan at the praise, fingers tightening on the hat as you lean over him, your lips brushing his ear. "that's right, baby," you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. "your girl. and you're my good boy, aren't you, jay?"

he nods frantically, his hands trembling as they grip your hips tighter. "always, sweetheart. always yours."

and he is—completely, utterly yours. every broken sound he makes, every breathless plea, every filthy word spilling from his lips is ALL for you.

[figthoughts]

“that’s it, baby. taking me so well,” dean coos, slowly pushing his cock further into your mouth.

your eyes water as his tip brushes against the back of your throat, forcing you to hold back a gag as your fingernails dig into his thighs. he’s so big, you can barely breathe.

dean notices and smiles softly, “baby, you’re doing so good. c’mon, take it for me.”

he holds your jaw with one hand and gently rubs the back of your head with the other, trying to soothe you as he pushes the last of his member in, your nose brushing against the tuft of hair at his base.

you squeeze your eyes shut and try to breathe through your nose as you let out a soft groan, trying to adjust to his size.

dean lets out shuddered breath from the sensation and pulls his hips back to thrust, slowly moving them back in, his tip hitting the back of your throat with every movement.

you groan as tears spill down your cheeks and spit escapes your mouth, dripping down your lips and chin as you moan. your nails dig into his thighs more as your eyes stay shut.

“fuck,” he groans gutturally, “so fucking good, baby.”

[lostalioth]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

→ premise: there existed no such cricumstances in which dean doesnt want your lips against his. bloodied, bruised, even with broken bones, a kiss from his girl makes it all better.

→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: tw: blood, fluff, but some sort of instense making out, established relationship, descriptions of blood and injuries, blood in mouth, nicknames [baby, sweetheart, my girl], reader is described a bit to have anxiety

→ a/n: as always i hope dean isn’t too out of character as i have never written for him! enjoy my loves :) and sorry its short.

A hunt had gone south they got the monster and it was done but Dean was injured, they were headed back to the bunker. That was all Sam spit out over the phone, normally you appreciated his ability to get straight to the point. Currently you were cursing it as he hung up shortly after cause he was the one driving back. You had a million and one questions running through your head and more than half of them weren’t good.

This was the part of the boys going off hunting and you staying back that you hated the most. When one of them got hurt or something went wrong and all you could do was sit there, a chill running down your spine as your blood boiled in your veins, anxiously pacing the living room, trying to not let yourself jump to the worst conclusions which you regularly failed to do.

You used to go on hunts with them and instead of you currently being the one riddled with anxiety, it was Dean. Once the two of you pulled your heads out of your asses (as Sam would say) and realized you’ve had feelings for each other for years, you got together. Being officially together seemed to make Dean's protective nature increase tenfold. He was even more terrified to lose you now than before. He began fussing over you whenever you'd get even the slightest scarpe or bump on a hunt. He would glue himself to your side the whole duration. Forcing you to normally stay back in the motel room when the hunt turned into a more dangerous situation than dean cared to put you in.

You loved Dean but it began to get a bit too tedious to deal with and even Sam made a comment on how overprotective he was being. In an attempt to make hunts go easier and ease your boyfriend's anxiety, once you all situated yourselfs in the bunker you suggested to him that you go out on hunts less, especially when they could now take Cas. Dean jumped at the suggestion but you couldn't blame him.

“I think that's a great idea baby” he said with a kiss to your forehead.

You still helped out, researching things when Sam needed the help, going through old books and files in the library, patching them up when they’d come back with cuts and bruises. You hadn't realized just how jittery you'd be however stuck in the bunker when he was out and especially when they went on far away hunts.

They'd go to the hospital when things were really bad, so you knew if the boys were on their way back then it couldn’t be too bad. The reminder did nothing to sooth your racing thoughts, your heart thumping so hard you could practically hear it pounding in your ears. You didn't know just how long you've been pacing back and forth, too afraid to look up at the clock and realize it's only been a few minutes since Sam called.

You don't hear the sound of baby pulling into the garage, your head is too clouded as you were damn near about to wear a grove down into the old floors. The sound of a door shutting loudly and two sets of heavy footsteps are heard down the hallway. Spinning so quickly on your feet you nearly lose your balance you turn to face the noise. Watching as the brothers emerge from the dark hall, Dean's arm rests on Sam's shoulder almost using him like a human crutch. You let out a small gasp making them stop and both of their eyes snap up to yours, weather you gasped in surprise at the state of your boyfriend or in relief you can’t tell.

“Hi sweetheart, We’re home” Dean tilts his head, his voice laced with his usual sarcasm and deep tone. He pushes off of Sam, clearly able to at least stand on his own, slowly making his way over to you a small limp in his step.

In the blink of an eye you’re rushing into his arms, your soft hands grabbing ahold of his beaten up face and crashing your lips against his. He grunts out a “fuck” in surprise or pain the word dying in his throat turning into a noise as his eyes fall shut and he grabs ahold of your hips. With a sharp tug he pulls your body as close as he can to his, his hands sliding up your sides. His bloodied lips against your plush ones, kissing you like a man starved, a kiss you’ve come accustomed to when he comes home from longer hunts. “Missed you” he hums in a hushed tone into the kiss for only you to hear, making your racing heart only speed up. His blood flows into your opened mouth as the kiss goes on, the metallic taste on your tongue foreign but you were far too relieved he was back in one piece to care about the blood coating your tongue.

Any pain Dean felt after the whole ordeal and from the bumpy ride back to the bunker seemed to fade from his body. He could care less about his brother's presence still in the room or the blood still dripping from his face and that covered his clothes or his split lip. It felt as if all the bruises that were forming on his body were already being kissed away as your soft lips slid against his. The taste of your mouth overcoming the taste of the blood in his, your scent calming his body, reminding him he's finally home again. Your body grounding him.

A rough deep cough stops the moment making the two of you reluctantly pull away, lips swollen and parted as you catch your breath.

“Before this gets any more R-rated maybe we should patch him up and you know clean him up” Sam suggested with a small light hearted chuckle as he walks off to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. You were grateful you remembered just yesterday that it had needed to be restocked. “Sorry Sammy” Dean calls after him, you turn your head away and follow up with a “Sorry not sorry” down the hall after him making a small smirk grow on your boyfriend's face.

Once he's out of eye sight, Dean grabs ahold of your face by lightly squeezing your cheeks and turns your head back to face him. Leaning down to begin softly kissing you again, groaning against your lips when the pain in his body begins to return.

“Who needs a first aid kit, all i need is my girl's kisses” He mumbled softly against your mouth, making you break out into a smile. A small tear slips down your cheek, your breath returning to your lungs and the chill in your spine fading as relief finally settled over your body knowing he's okay.

→ a/n: if you enjoyed please reblog or send me some dean requests id love to write more for him!

[wchswift]

Under the Lights ༉‧₊˚ 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader Summary: A sweet and peaceful Christmas with Dean. Content: fluff, mostly soft moments, family, first Christmas at the bunker, I hate Mary but she is mentioned briefly, not proofread, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 2k A/N: almost christmas and im so excited!! I really love christmas and lately these are the only ideas I can think of to write lol. i just love soft and happy dean so I thought I'd write a cute one shot about him having a good christmas bc all i wanted was to spend these holidays with him

mdni 𖤐 18+

Dean leaned against the doorway, the faintest curve of a smile playing on his lips. The sight of you, utterly absorbed in decorating the tree, tugged at something deep in his chest. The soft glow of the twinkling lights painted your face in golds and silvers. You were on your toes, reaching for a high branch, determined to hang an ornament in its perfect place. From his vantage point, Dean couldn’t help but grin. The way your nose crinkled when something didn’t sit just right, the soft hum of Christmas music as you worked—it all made the bunker feel a little less like a fortress and a little more like home.

The table behind you bore the chaos of your efforts—ornaments arranged and rearranged, tinsel spilling onto the floor like silken threads of moonlight. It was chaos, yes, but it was yours, and Dean found it impossible to look away.

“Sweetheart,” he finally said, his voice warm and teasing, breaking through the soft hum of Let It Snow playing in the background. “Not to rush a masterpiece, but you’ve been at this tree longer than it takes Santa to finish his route.”

You turned, giving him a mock glare, your lips pressed into a pout that was as endearing as it was teasing. “It has to be perfect, Dean.”

“It already is,” he countered, stepping closer, his hands casually stuffed into his pockets. “Lights, ornaments, a star on top—what more does a tree need?”

“Your enthusiasm,” you shot back, turning back to adjust the ribbon for what must have been the hundredth time.

Dean chuckled, moving to your side, sliding an arm around your waist, and pulling you against him. “My enthusiasm’s here,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. "I'm just more contained about it."

You let out a soft sigh, letting yourself lean deeper into his warm embrace as you closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the comfort he provided. "I know, Dean," you began, your voice gentle but filled with understanding. "But I also know how excited you get about these celebrations. Deep down, you wish for that typical family cliche, and you and Sam truly deserve it. I just want us to have a memorable time together… Could you please enjoy this too and get into the mood with me?"

You turned your face to meet his gaze, your eyes sparkling with hope and sincerity. Your tone was calm, and the warmth of your words seemed to hang in the air between you. Dean, ever the skeptic, tried to roll his eyes in playful defiance, but a smile broke through despite his efforts. The corners of his mouth lifted, and he leaned in, planting a quick, soft kiss on your lips before surrendering to your encouragement, as he usually did.

The sound of boots against metal echoed through the bunker as Sam descended the stairs. His voice rang out before he even reached the bottom. “Dean, what’s going on in here?”

Sam paused, his eyebrows shooting up as he took in the sight of his brother atop the map table, duct-taping garland to the ceiling beams.

"Decking the halls, Sammy. What’s it look like?” He replied, still focused on the lights.

“It looks like a fire hazard,” Sam deadpanned, crossing his arms as he took in the mess of lights, ornaments, and tinsel scattered across the room.

You emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray of cookies, just as Dean hopped down from the table. “Sam, you should’ve seen him earlier. He tried to hang stockings with fishing wire.”

Dean shrugged, unapologetic. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Sam sighed, shaking his head. "So, this is your new thing now? Christmas?” He muttered though a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Oh, come on, Sam,” you chimed in, setting the cookies down on the table. “It's the best time of the year. Even hunters deserve a little holiday spirit.”

Dean grabbed a cookie, pointing it at Sam. “She’s right. Stop being a Grinch.”

Reluctantly, Sam joined in, helping you and Dean finish decorating the bunker. By the time you were done, the usually cold, utilitarian space looked warm and inviting. Lights draped across the walls, the centerpiece Sam had crafted out of pine branches and candles sat proudly on the map table, and the tree sparkled in the corner.

Dean stepped back, hands on his hips, surveying the scene. “Not bad for a bunch of hunters, huh?”

Later that evening, the bunker had settled into a cozy stillness. Sam had retreated to his room, leaving you and Dean sitting by the softly glowing tree. The faint crackle of a vinyl record Dean had unearthed earlier filled the air, Bing Crosby crooning about dreaming of a white Christmas.

You leaned back against the armchair, watching Dean as he entertained himself by drinking his hot chocolate. The moment felt right, so you reached beside you and pulled out a carefully wrapped box tied with red string.

“Okay,” you said, your voice tinged with both excitement and hesitation, “before you make a big deal out of this, I just want to say that it’s practical.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose as he took the box, his lips twitching into a grin. “Practical, huh? Not sure what that means coming from you.”

“Just open it,” you urged, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap.

Dean unwrapped the box with care, his grin softening as he revealed a thick leather-bound journal. His fingers brushed over the cover, and for a moment, he was quiet, his thumb tracing the edges of the pages.

“It’s, uh…” you started, your voice softer now. “I noticed you don’t really have a place to write things down—your thoughts, memories, whatever. So I thought… maybe you could use it. For good stuff. Things you want to remember. Not like hunting stuff or anything like your dad's but something good? Or whatever you want I don't know...” you rambled, feeling anxious.

Dean opened the journal, flipping through the blank pages. Inside the front cover, you’d written a small inscription in your neat handwriting: For all the moments you want to hold on to.

He stared at the words for a long beat before letting out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You know me too well, sweetheart.”

“I just thought,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “after everything we’ve been through, it might be nice to have something that’s yours. Something that’s just… good.”

Dean closed the journal and set it carefully on the table beside him. Then he turned to you, his green eyes impossibly soft. “You always know what I need before I even know it myself.”

Before you could respond, he reached behind him and pulled something from his jacket pocket. “Okay, my turn.”

He held out a small box, its edges worn, like it had been carried around for some time. “It’s not new,” he said, almost apologetically. “But I’ve been meaning to give this to you.”

You opened the box slowly, revealing a simple yet beautiful silver bracelet. The charms hanging were clearly chosen by a hunter, it was small and subtle, but unmistakable.

“It was my mom’s,” Dean said quietly, his gaze dropping to the bracelet. “She always said it was for protection. I’ve kept it all these years, but… I think she’d want you to have it.”

Your throat tightened, and tears pricked at your eyes as you looked at him. “Dean, I… I can’t take this. It’s too important.”

Dean shook his head, reaching out to take your hand. “You’re important,” he said simply. “And if anyone deserves to have it, it’s you.”

You stared at the bracelet, overwhelmed by the gesture. Then, without a word, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. He held you tightly, his hand cradling the back of your head.

When you finally pulled away, you slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, smiling through the tears in your eyes. “Thank you, Dean. I’ll take good care of it.”

“I know you will,” he said softly, his thumb brushing across your knuckles.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the record player. And as you leaned back against him, the bracelet resting cool against your skin, you felt a sense of belonging that you hadn’t known you were missing.

The warm connection from the gift exchange flowed naturally into the next day, making every interaction lighter, and more meaningful.

The kitchen was a flurry of activity as the three of you prepared dinner. Dean insisted on taking charge of the main course, proudly presenting a vegetarian lasagna for Sam and you.

“See? I’m not just a pie guy,” he said, grinning.

Meanwhile, you and Sam teamed up to bake cookies. It started out innocent enough, but it quickly devolved into a flour fight when Sam accidentally knocked over the mixing bowl.

Dean walked in just as you lobbed a handful of flour at Sam, only to hit him square in the chest instead. He froze, staring down at his now-flour-covered shirt. “What the hell, guys?”

Dean just watched you and Sam burst into laughter, trying to stay mad.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered, brushing flour off his jacket. “Real funny. Guess who’s cleaning this up?”

“Not me,” you and Sam said in unison, making you chuckle again.

Dean shook his head, a grin appearing on his face despite his attempt to remain irritated.

Later that night, the three of you gathered in the living room, your plates cleared and the remnants of the day’s chaos tucked away. Sam stretched out on the other armchair with a book, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he occasionally glanced at you and Dean by the tree, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders.

The bracelet he’d given you caught the soft glow of the lights, its charm resting lightly against your wrist. You found yourself absently touching it, grounding yourself in the weight of what it meant.

Sam finally closed his book, setting it aside as he stretched his long legs. “You know,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence, “You two actually did a pretty good job. I think this might be the first time the bunkers actually felt… normal. Like a real home.”

Dean snorted softly. “Took long enough, huh?”

Sam smiled, his expression soft. “Yeah. But I’m glad we got here.”

Dean raised his mug in a mock toast. “To surviving another year and not burning the place down with Christmas lights.”

Sam rolled his eyes but lifted his mug too. “Yeah, yeah... To family.”

You lifted your own mug, smiling as you echoed the sentiment. “To family.”

The three of you sat quietly for a while, watching the lights twinkle on the tree. Eventually, Sam excused himself, muttering something about research, leaving you and Dean alone again.

Dean nudged you gently, drawing your attention. “Come with me for a sec,” he said, his voice low but insistent.

Curious, you followed him as he grabbed a thick blanket from the couch and led you up the large stairs of the bunker. He stopped at one of the heavy iron doors, twisting the wheel to unlock it before pulling it open to reveal the wide, open expanse of the night sky.

The cold air hit you first, crisp and biting, but the sight of the stars made you forget it almost instantly. Dean draped the blanket over your shoulders and pulled you close, his warmth a welcome contrast to the chill.

“Figured we could use some fresh air,” he said simply, his voice quiet.

You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder as you gazed up at the stars. They glittered against the inky blackness, impossibly bright and infinite, like tiny promises of hope scattered across the sky.

“We really did it huh?” Dean murmured, his voice low and warm.

“Did what?” you asked, tilting your head to look up at him.

“This,” he said simply, gesturing back to the bunker. “Christmas. The whole thing. It’s not half bad.”

“It’s perfect,” you said softly, resting your head back against his shoulder.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The world felt distant here, the weight of hunting, loss, and responsibility held at bay by the vastness of the universe.

Dean’s voice broke the silence, soft but sure. “You know, I never thought I’d get something like this.”

You turned to look at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “Something like what?”

He gestured toward the stars, the blanket, the faint glow of the bunker behind you. “All this. A night where everything’s quiet. Where it feels like we’re not just surviving.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “You deserve this, Dean. You deserve nights like this and so much more.”

He looked at you then, his green eyes shimmering in the soft glow of the starlight above. A gentle smile played on his lips as he spoke, “So do you,” his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb grazed over your knuckles, sending a warm thrill through you. "Thank you." With a tender sincerity, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and lingering, filled with a depth of love and unspoken emotions that seemed to wrap around you like a cozy blanket, leaving you breathless in the stillness of the night.

The two of you stayed there, wrapped in the quiet and each other, until the cold became too much to ignore.

As you made your way back inside, Dean caught your hand, stopping you just before you reached the main hallway.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and rough around the edges. “Merry Christmas.”

You smiled, leaning up to give him a peck on the lips, your heart full. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

And in that moment, with the warmth of his hand in yours and the quiet hum of life around you, you felt something you hadn’t in a long time: hope. This was home—messy, chaotic, and imperfect. And it was everything you needed.

a/n: oh my god, I had so much fun writing this :) I don't know if I liked how it turned out that much, but I thought it was cute enough to post...

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Call Interrupted

Summary: Jensen is on a call that seems to be stressing him out. Y/N has some ideas to help him de-stress.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. All smut. Oral (m receiving), unprotected PinV sex, slightly rough sex (it could just be classified as very energetic! 😉), very light spanking, very brief fingering, public sex if you squint.

Pairings: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1,358

A/N: So, sometimes my brain is just very unruly. I have a gazillion things I should be writing, requests that I'm so excited to get to, next chapters that I'm happy to continue with, etc. But did I write any of those this evening? No, of course not.

Instead, my stupid brain got caught up in a little conversation I was having with @suckitands33 about her post that I reblogged and added a few more pictures to. The conversation was regarding the picture of Jensen that I included in the title card above. That conversation wouldn't leave my brain, and this is what came out. It's all filth, of course. 😏 Enjoy! 🥰

The beautiful dividers here were created by @plum98

"I don't know, Shelia, what are the benefits?"

Jensen's voice was frustrated and stressed as you walked into his office and saw he was on a call. He had his AirPods in so it looked a bit like he was talking to himself. But he was obviously talking to his manager, Sheila. Discussing some upcoming projects, no doubt. 

You'd only come in to ask him what he wanted for dinner. But he seemed so stressed - his shoulders were rigid and he was holding his head in his hand - that dinner flew out the window. 

He needed some stress relief right now.

You walked towards his desk and he looked up and gave you a tight smile. You peered around his computer monitor to see if he was on a video call. But the monitor was black, so you were good to go. 

You spun him in his office chair so he was facing you instead of the desk. He gave you a quizzical look, but then you sank to your knees and reached for his zipper and the look became scorching hot. You got his zipper open and were reaching for the button on his jeans when he grabbed your wrist. He pointed a finger at his airpods, obviously telling you he was on a call. But you just shrugged and raised your free hand, putting a finger to your lips.

"Shh..." 

You pulled your wrist free of his slackened grip and unbuttoned him. You reached in and pulled out his heavy, half-hard cock, licking up the underside of it and making him clench his jaw and drop his head against the back of his tall, leather office chair.

You wasted no time in going down on him, bobbing your head up and down, quick and then slow. After a few minutes of alternating speeds, you wrapped your lips tight around the head of his cock, and sucked hard. He sank his teeth deep into his plump bottom lip as he fisted his hand in your hair.

Then you took him all the way in, letting him sink an inch or two down the back of your throat and then swallowing around him. His fist tightened in your hair and he pulled hard, as his other hand clenched into a fist that he pushed against his mouth as he tried desperately not to make a noise.

You came up off of him gasping slightly and slurping up the spit and come that still connected your lips to his cock.

You stood up and quickly shed your t-shirt and leggings. You wore no bra. You turned away from him as you pushed down your panties, bending over when they reached your ankles so you could pull them off, giving him a straight on view of your glistening cunt.

"Fuck." He groaned quietly. 

And then he spoke louder."No, no Sheila. I'm just uh...just thinking...it's good. Keep...keep going. I'm listening."

You giggled as you straightened up and walked over to him and climbed onto his lap, straddling him. You braced your hands on his thick, round shoulders and lined his cock up at your entrance. You nibbled on his lips as you sank down on him. It was almost impossible for both of you not to groan out the pleasure sweeping over your bodies. 

When you were fully seated on him, you began to unbutton his dark blue shirt, pressing your lips against every new inch of skin you revealed. 

When you licked his right nipple into your mouth and bit it gently he bucked his hips and you couldn't hold back anymore. You started raising yourself up and down slowly at first, but the exquisite stretch of his thick cock made you impatient, and you were soon riding him hard and fast.

You pushed your hands under his open shirt and gripped his shoulders again, using them as leverage to slam down on him. 

He squeezed your left breast in his hand and began to flick his tongue back and forth against your nipple. You sank your hand into his hair and moaned loudly. 

You slapped a hand over your mouth, but Jensen was quickly apologizing to Sheila.

"You know, Sheila, sorry," his voice was tight and incredibly strained, "sorry, I've gotta. There's like a weird, something with the call. I'm gonna have to call you back." 

He abruptly ended the call, slamming his hand down on the end button on his phone. He pulled his AirPods out, and you couldn’t help laughing. 

"Sorry, baby! I was trying to keep quiet."

Jensen gave a playful growl and easily pulled you off of him. He stood up and flipped you around, shoving his chair back, and quickly bending you over so you had to press your hands against the desk.

As you looked over your shoulder at him, he pushed his jeans all the way off and yanked his shirt off completely, positioning himself at your entrance. Before he sank into you, however, he brought his hand down with a soft slap to your ass; it was still hard enough to make it jiggle. You gasped and he reached over his body to slap your other cheek.

"Unh!" You grunted and dropped your head down to dangle between your arms where they were braced against the desk. 

Jensen spoke with a rough growl. "That was to punish you for disrupting an important phone call." He slammed himself into you, so deep you swore you could feel him in your throat.

He leaned down and slid his lips against the shell of your ear. "And this," he said moving in and out of you with a silky, languid rhythm, "is to thank you for it."

His thrusts were targeted, slowly sliding his cock along your convulsing walls to perfectly slam against your sweet spot. The pleasure was so thick that it was almost excruciating and you were soon begging him for more.

"Please, Jensen, harder, faster."

"Okay, baby." He placed kisses down your spine. "Hold on tight."

Your hands were flat against his desktop, and you tried to brace yourself there.

But he slammed into you so hard, your arms folded and you had to shove his keyboard and some papers out of the way so you could lay yourself across the desk.

He didn't stop, slamming against you so hard, you knew the fronts of your thighs would be bruised from the hard wooden desk. But you didn’t care, you wanted him to fuck you black and blue.

The coil low in your stomach was tightening and tightening until it finally exploded, making you scream and drag your nails over the desk uselessly, scratching at it without purchase.

Jensen still didn't stop, fucking you through your climax and the next one too, before he finally pushed his hands against your shoulder blades, crushing you into the desk while his hips pistoned forward, jackhammering into you until he let out a shout of ecstasy, shuddering and bucking into you over and over as he spurted hot and thick into your soaked cunt. 

His breath was hot and harsh against the back of your neck, until he finally moved to brace himself against the desk, slowly pulling out of you. He pulled his chair back over to him and sank into it so he could watch his cum slowly drip out of your pussy.

"Fuck." He swore, his voice ragged. He grabbed hold of you and pulled you back into his lap, turning you so you could rest your exhausted head against his shoulder. 

He let out a soft chuckle as he let his hand trail over your body, and up and down your legs. 

"Was this what you came in here for?"

You smiled and shook your head. "Actually, I wanted to know what you want for dinner. But you seemed stressed."

"Hmm." he said softly. "Well, mission accomplished. I'm not stressed anymore."

His smile was wicked as he ran his wandering hand over your pussy, sliding two thick fingers through the sloppy mess of your cunt. 

"And I definitely know what I want to eat."

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

[legalmente-loca]

can u do a "sick day" with dean winchester x reader but in a kinky way U KNOW like dean s1 e12 PLEASE 😫😫😫😫😫

Oh, I see you, I know what you are😏 A Dean moaning pathetically for you at your command!🫡

Prompts: Sick Day.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut, Dean being sick, I WANNA RIDE

You placed the back of your hand on his forehead and sighed.

“You’re hot.”

You put the cloth back into the water and then wrung it out and placed it on his forehead.

“I know.” He said with a lopsided smile, his eyes narrowed.

“It’s not funny, Dean.”

“I’m not laughing, doll.”

“No, ‘cause you are too weak for that.” You said as you grabbed another damp cloth and gently ran it over his face.

He purred and closed his eyes as you wiped down the cloth. You’d be lying if you didn’t say you weren’t worried about him. Dean had been in this state for three days now and the fever didn’t seem to go down.

You had taken off his shirt so you could wet his chest with cold water.

“Doll…” he trembled.

“It’s okay, it will only last a moment.” You murmured softly as you ran the cloth over his chest.

He opened one eye and looked at you. His gaze wandered to your shirt open to the first two buttons. You leaned down to wash the sweat off the side of his neck and he took the opportunity to get a better view of your cleavage. He raised his hand with difficulty and put it under your shirt.

“Dean…” You said in a warning tone.

“Can’t blame a guy for wanting a bite of her sweet little girl.”

He brought his hand up and cupped a breast through your bra.

“For being sick, you’re still a pervert.”

“I’m not a pervert.” He smiled and bit his bottom lip. “I’m just taking advantage of having a damn pretty personal nurse.”

He tried to laugh, but ended up coughing. You quickly approached him and stroked his hair.

“Relax, Dean. Don’t try hard.”

“I’m fine.” He took my hand and stroked it with his thumb.

“You’re not fine, Dean, you’re sick.”

He snorted and brought my hand up his chest.

“Do you know what would cure me?”

“Dean…”

“You… On top of me.”

He brought your hand to his crotch, rubbing it against his pants. He let out a low moan and you bit your bottom lip.

“I don’t know if it’s good in your sta-“

“Darlin’… Please.” He whispered breathlessly, still slowly rubbing your hand against his crotch, applying pressure lightly.

You watched him, his eyes half lidded, struggling not to close them as he whimpered pathetically.

It wasn’t even two minutes later that you were straddling him, naked, riding him.

“Oh, God, baby-” He stammered, his hands on your hips.

You continued bouncing on his cock, your hands on his chest, feeling his skin burn.

“God, my Dean…” You whimpered.

“You’re so good… My sweet little girl.”

He coughed a little and you stopped your movements, looking at him with concern.

“You okay?” You placed a hand on his forehead. “God, you’re on fire.”

You moved to get off him, but his fingers dug into your hips, stopping your movements.

“No…” He broke off with a cough. “D-don’t stop… P-please…” You swallowed, unsure. “Hey…” He brought a hand to your cheek, making you look at him. “I’m fine, really. I want you to continue bouncing on my cock like the good little girl you are.” You took a deep breath and readjusted yourself before beginning your movements again. “That’s it… My good doll…”

You moaned, increasing your movements. The back of the bed hit the wall at the same time you felt his cock entering your most intimate place.

“God, you feel so good.” You whimpered.

“Not as good as your sweet pussy. So soft… S-so tight…”

You continued bouncing on him faster, leaning forward slightly. His hands moved up to the back of your neck, holding you firmly. Well, as firm as possible in its condition.

“Yes, that-that’s it… squeezing me so good. You were made for me.”

His eyes closed and he moved a hand to your breast, squeezing it lightly.

“Are you close?”

“Oh, I’m so f-fucking close, doll.”

He licked his lips and you ran a hand over his forehead, causing him to moan pathetically.

“After this, you will let me take good care of you.”

“Oh, dear, after this I’ll let you cook me any damn vegetable soup.” He murmured.

You purred and went faster, his head sinking into the pillow beneath him, his hips lifting to make sure he was as deep as possible.

He gave one last deep moan, sinking deep into you and shooting his cum, staining your inner walls as you clenched around him and dug your nails into his hair.

After a few seconds, when your breathing returned to normal, you moved again to get off of him, but he held you, bringing your body closer to him.

“J-just… Stay like this for a while.” He buried his face between your breasts as he hugged you.

You placed a kiss on his head as you stayed close and he purred, his body radiating heat, too much, but you didn’t care.

You would cure him later.

One Hundred Followers

Dean Winchester Imagines/Headcanons

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Masterlist

Join my Tag List

@yjessi @s7nburn @tommysaxes @depressionbarbie2023 @im-roxx @rxouxcesss @thedevilortheangel @deaniemyboo @mrs-nesmith @jackles010378 @ineffable-moons @ailishnovak @dilfsandmartinis @cravemeintellectually @montyrokz @v1v1-3 @l-05