#jensen and the flips

[mlobsters]

jared padalecki and jensen ackles nj con 2025 - gold panel

team stinky boys ✅ filled with regret

[tributeofasgard]

has… has anyone seen this photo before? is it new?? am I losing it???

[privartidahos]

soldier boy tell 'em

plus a bonus moodboard of my actual reference photos

[vxmpdean]

Soulless For Me? PT.2

Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE: Finally part two!! I honestly cut it short by like... five pages because I felt like it sucked and erm... I don't know how to write good "smut" ykykyk

So I'm sorry if this story cuts short! I promise in future writings it wont' happen :)

{ Reminders that I do take requests ! Send me a message of your amazing idea and I will try my absolute hardest to bring it to life :p I need some inspo anyways! }

WARNINGS: Emotiona; (?), Fluff, Light Smut (Cut Short. & Doesn't Go Into Detail), & yeah :0

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“Okay,” You whispered, patting his back, signaling him to let go,” I need to tell your brother and Bobby. I need to start packing soon.” 

The words felt like a punch to his stomach. Sam reluctantly loosened his grip on you, allowing you to leave. 

But every part of him was screaming and resisting, telling him to hold you back, to find other ways to convince you to not do this, or hold you until you were pried away from him.

He let out a shaky breath, the pain in his chest was almost unbearable- he was about to lose you.

He was losing you the more time passed. Every hour counted, every minute, every second, every breath, every blink. 

Sam slowly took a step back, putting some distance between the two of you. He looked at you silently, the storm of emotions messed up his thinking skills. Everything he wanted to say, everything he held back before, just everything needed to be known but he couldn’t. It was like someone glued his mouth shut and forced him to suffer in pure silence- drowning in his suffocating, overwhelming emotions and feelings. 

You smiled sadly at him before stepping out the bedroom, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and walking down the stairs silently, letting yourself soak up every detail of Bobby's messy, but homey house. 

You walked in the living room where Dean and Bobby were speaking in hushed tones, their expressions tense yet strained. Whatever Bobby said last made Dean frown, opening his mouth to protest before hearing your footsteps waltz in. 

A mixture of emotions flashed on his face- worry, sadness, and even anger. But he knew losing his temper wasn’t going to help. Not when he could read your stubborn body language. 

He sat up straighter on the couch after hearing your small, ‘Hey’ and watched as you made your spot on the couch, bringing your knees to your chest with a weak smile. 

���Hey…” He mumbled back in a low voice.

“So…” You glanced at them, “You guys figured out my whole deal with the hellhound thing huh?” You laughed weakly, seeing Dean wince silently from your words. 

“Yeah, yeah… you’re really not the secretive person out there.” Bobby grumbled, keeping his gaze stuck on the scattered papers on the desk. 

An awkward silence between the three. Unspoken words hung in the air like broken ornaments just waiting to fall and cut into saddened skin.

You cleared your throat- something to disturb the silence that made you want to peel your skin off- looking at the two boys again, “I’ve decided that I will go back to my hometown. I haven’t been there in years and I think it's best that I just…stay there, in a place where I am comfortable and… and safe.” 

Both Dean and Bobby stayed quiet, listening to you with heavy hearts. The room became silent once again after you said your plan- the words “I am leaving tomorrow night’ seemed to echo in their heads repeatedly. 

Dean furrowed his brows, the pain of losing you clear on his face. He wanted to argue, to somehow convince you to change your mind… but there was nothing he could do knowing Sam tried just as hard to fight against this. 

After a moment of silence, he managed to find his voice and muttered, “Are you… are you sure about this?” 

You smiled weakly with a small nod, “It's for the better.” 

Dean let out a shaky breath, glancing back at Bobby for a second. He knew you were set on this, but it was a hard pill to swallow. He looked back at you, noticing that forced smile on your face,

“How the hell is this better?” He asked in a strained voice, fighting back to start an argument, “Losing you? How are you saying that so calmly?” 

“Well, it wouldn't be really nice nor comforting for me to sob my heart out in front of you boys.” You shrugged, scrunching your nose. 

As you said that, he suddenly realized how strong you were. You were trying to hold yourself together and stay strong, even though you were gonna go through hell. 

He felt a pang in his heart, feeling guilty knowing that he should be fighting against you and for you. He should be grabbing every book to exist and read every single word- just to find a way to escape this. Of course there will be a way- there has to, him and Sam always made sure of it.

Bobby shook his head softly, the raw, pained feelings getting to him more than he liked, “You can cry, you know… you don't have to pretend to be strong in front of us. You’re my kid, I care about you. 

“I know,” You whispered, smiling when you heard Bobby call you his kid… it left your heart blooming just a little from the sweet word, “I am going to start packing, so I’ll be in my room if you need me.” 

Dean watched as you hurried away, biting on his nails as he frowned, silently praying for some kind of miracle to stop this from happening.

----------------

Sam was still in the room, sitting on the bed with an empty stare. He blinked when he heard the bedroom door click and looked up at you, his eyes saying so much but not enough at the same time. 

You silently sat next to him, pushing your hands under your thighs as you kept your gaze on the floor, tracing the hardwood shapes and bumps.

“You okay?” You asked before thinking- immediately regretting it as soon as it came out of your mouth. 

Sam answered, “No.” 

You glanced back at the bags, staring at the neatly folded clothing and items stuffed in, each bag having their own meaning and place to it, each holding your entire life in them. 

It was like those bags were mocking you.

Making your thoughts go negative than already is.

Giving you second thoughts.

Creating fear. 

You looked away before you could drown in your thoughts, quickly pushing them off the bed with a huff. 

Sam flinched at the sound of the bags hitting the floor, ripping him away from his own thoughts and looking at you, sitting next to him so quietly, so beautiful, so perfect. 

“Want to sleep with me tonight?” You asked quietly, meeting his puppy-dog eyes, that ache in my heart more pronounced at the sight. 

He froze for a second at your question, a wave of surprise washed over him. He blinked, opening his mouth to say something but nothing came out. 

He craved for you touch- even though the only thing he felt was your accidental light brushes and hugs. He wanted nothing more than to keep you in his arms forever, breathing in your scent, and feeling your skin against his. 

He nodded slowly, not trusting his voice to speak. 

You nodded back, almost melting at how adorable he looked in this moment. 

Gosh what has life become. 

“You know…” You croaked out, shifting to look at him more clearly, “I regret not telling you how I feel about you sooner. I feel like things would've been different…” 

Pain washed over his face and he forced himself to look away, his fists so tight his knuckles turned while.

 It was all too much. Too soon. Too overwhelming. 

He swallowed down the lump that waa forming in his throat, inhaling sharply before looking back at you, his eyes immediately softening- like they couldn't stay mad at you even for a minute,

“I wish I could go back and fix the past.” He whispered, “The amount of times I wanted to kiss you… to hold you…to just call you mine…” He couldn't help but cup your face, feeling your soft skin underneath his large hands. 

You leaned in his touch, breathing out a heavy breath as your heart squeezed at his small confession. 

All those times where they had tension, those glances at each other, when they caught each other's eyes just as quick, where they were so close to kissing- it all brought down to this. The sorrow and pain but the love and affection that fought so hard to take over- 

“You would have heard me say ‘I love you’ in a way that doesnt feel like longing or mourning.” You said weakly, wrapping your fingers around his wrists. 

“Then why didn’t you say it before?” 

“Because I was scared… and blind,” You mumbled, “I wasn't able to see if you shared… these puzzling feelings for so long.” 

He looked at you deeply, taking in your words.

How stupid and blind he's been. 

The answer was right in front of him this whole time but he was too stubborn to even glance at it. All those feelings he has never felt before were always around you- the way his heart jumps when you laugh, or the way his body relaxes when you talk in that quiet, sleepy voice, or the way his ears perk up everytime he hears your voice. 

“Why did it take you to say goodbyes for me to realize I'm in love with you.” He whispered, watching your once gleaming eyes look at him with tired, scared eyes that were filled with tears. 

“I'm so sorry it has to be like this Sammy,” You whispered back, your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned in to place soft kisses over his face, “I’m so sorry.” 

Sam felt a rush of emotions when he felt your soft lips press on his skin, it was like a bittersweet torture, a gentle goodbye and apologies that hurt like fucking hell. He closed his eyes, relishing in that feeling of your touch, trying to engrave it in his memory. 

He couldn't hold back any longer. The need to feel you closer became overbearing, his emotions too much to handle anymore. He gently grabbed your hips, pulling you to sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist soon after he pushed his lips against yours. 

He held you close, the taste of your lips were godsend. The way you fit so perfectly, like a puzzle piece, was a clear sign that you were his. You were his and no one else's. 

You were his to love, care, worship, cry, kiss, hug, touch, feel, hear, see- 

Despite all the pain, the despair he was feeling, he knew he could find comfort in this moment. 

For a moment, he could pretend everything was okay, that this was just another night together. 

He held you closer, as if trying to erase the space between the two of you, trying to savor everything. Your lips never part, too desperate to fix something, to fix anything that was left unheard or unspoken of- to fix all the lost time they could have had together. 

He deepened the kiss, wanting to get even more closer to you, to feel more than just touches and fast kisses; to keep the memory of you etched in his mind forever. 

His hands traveled up to your hair, gently running through the soft locks. He couldn't get enough of you, the feel of your body against his, the sweet addicting taste of your lips, the sound of your voice being muffled from his lips. The way you nipped at his bottom lip, inserting your tongue to slide along his made his head spin, soft groans escaping him as the rest of his body reacted violently towards your gentle touch. 

His hands started to wander, pushing under your shirt and gently running over the soft skin of your back, feeling the goosebumps that danced on your skin. He felt those delicious curves of your body, letting his mind go blank at the feeling. Sam didn't want this to end, knowing it's the last time he’ll be this close to you- paining him even more when realizing that this love will be shared for the first and last time. 

He loved the way you reacted to his touch, how it sent a jolt through his body, how every gasp and shiver made him want more of you. He needed more of you, he needed to feel every inch of you. He broke the kiss and started to trail kisses down your neck, his hands moving to tug at the hem of your shirt, silently asking permission.

His teeth sank the moment you tilted your head back while nodding, finding the sensitive skin addictive and tasteful, and sighed against your skin at the sound of your small groan. He pulled away for a moment to pull off your shirt, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, his body burning and aching with want. He couldn't believe he's finally getting the chance to see you like this, feeling you this close to him. He ran his hands over your smooth skin, each breath feeling heavier and heavier with every touch, his lips soon returning to your neck, kissing and nipping down your collarbone. 

You choked out a gasp, melting at every movement he made, the feeling of his large warm hands wandering wherever they liked, the sharp tug from his lips and teeth on your skin, his touch felt like fire on your skin and you never wanted to stop. 

He let out a low, guttural sound, your gasps and sighs only encouraged him to have his way with you. He wanted to take his time, feel you squirm on top of him, to worship every inch of you, to make you feel loved and wanted in this last moment together. 

You brought his face back up and pulled him in, your noses brushing against each other, heavy breaths twirling together, “I love you.” 

Sam searched your eyes, seeing the depth of your feelings in them. He kissed your lips once, looking at you with desperate eyes, 

“I love you.”  

Oh how that sounded like devotion and neediness. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

AUTHORS NOTE: Aaaand the rest to your imagination :,)

I am not the biggest fan of part two since I felt like it was almost useless... but nonetheless it is written and soon will be forgotten (lolz)

Hugs and kisses to you all ♡

[josephinekhawaja]

"…and that, kids, is how I met your mother."

(Listen, somebody at some point was going to be thinking this for the two of them 🎼🐦🐦‍⬛⚡🕳️ I might as well be first into the Shame Room.)

[shedontlovehuhself]

I gotta roll my eyes at all the people on here and twitter who were recently talking shit about Misha, saying they're done with him but are now acting like fans again. I mean, they're only posting about him in relation to Jensen, so really it's about using him for their cockles narrative. Just the typical spn/Misha "fan" things.

[destielrotsmybrain]

The one thing I will never understand about Cockles on this site is why people get brain meltingly excited when they do friend stuff.

Middle aged-men hugging and laughing with each other!

Well yeah they're friends and that's the kind of shit friends do. They are literally friends and have been for over a decade, none of this is new.

[daylighted]

─ HIDE AWAY THE SIGNS, dad's best friend ! jackles

you didn't think jensen was leaving and saying goodbye without a proper taste of you, did you?

warnings. ( 18+ ! ) pls for the love of god don't interact with this series if you're a minor. hefty age gap. oral (f receiving). dirty talking. manhandling. edging (kind of). thigh biting. minor exhibitionism. he's mean </3. word count. 3.4k

sneak into his room here!

THE FIRST THING YOU HEAR WHEN you wake up is the sound of rustling around on the other side of your bedroom wall. with an odd sense of disappointment, you realize immediately what it is. suitcases zipping, bedsheets rippling as the big duvet is fluffed and spread flat over it. you’d know the sound of someone preparing to leave anywhere — you’d only just done it days ago prior to returning home. 

it feels wrong to get up and say goodbye. to your parents, jensen was a stranger you talked to sometimes, when you passed each other. even in your mind, you only knew him at base level. you don’t know his favorite color, what high school he went to, if he had any pets wherever it was that he was from. 

so you weren’t going to say goodbye. you’d sit on your bed and stew on this realization that it was fun while it lasted, but it wasn’t meant to last. not really. you’d been told to get some spontaneity in your life by him, made to step out of every single comfort zone you had, and now you could say you did. that was the whole point, wasn’t it? he was sent into your life by some god, probably not any that were going to let you through heaven’s gates or anything, and now that he’d served the purpose he came for, he’d leave.

it still felt bittersweet in the most painstaking of ways. you didn’t have to completely close yourself off from him to know that fact.

the sound of things flipping around halts, and the door clicks shut, and footsteps start down the hallway to the staircase, not once pausing in front of yours. 

somehow, it hurt more that he’s just as dismissive as all of this as you were trying to be. you were trying, he didn’t even need to make the efforts to push you out of his head, it seemed.

four days you’d been home and you hadn’t reached out to your friends. you pull your phone out of your pocket to do that, needing some sort of distraction from the fact that you’d let yourself become your dad’s best friend’s temporary plaything while he stayed over. maybe he had a wife back home, not a dog. maybe his favorite color was the color of her eyes. maybe they met in high school.

the thought makes you feel sick, your fingers hovering over the group message with your friends in town.

you nearly jump out of your skin when a knock echoes on the doorframe behind you. there, standing in its open space, is jensen. 

“weren’t downstairs,” he says, eyebrows raising like he was accusing you of something. he’s wearing a baseball cap, the brim shadowing over the greens of his eyes. the strap of his duffel bag is slung over one shoulder, catching on the bunched up fabric of his hoodie. “thought i’d come up here n’ see why.” 

you raise your eyebrows right back at him, just as much accusation in them as his. “well, i’m not your girlfriend or anything, so…” 

“no, you aren’t,” he says easily, crossing his legs at the ankle as he braced his shoulder on the doorframe. “but i thought we were past the point of pretending we weren’t something.” 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” 

he raises a closed fist, holding up fingers as he counted them off. “friend. good fuck. good fuck who’s a friend. fuckbuddy—”

“your best friend’s daughter,” you interject, hissing it through your teeth at him, eyes darting over his shoulder to make sure both of your parents were downstairs like he’d implied. “you should do better to keep that little tidbit at the front of your arguments.” 

jensen takes a step into your room, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood. “if you wanna play mean, pretty girl, by all means, i’m not stoppin’ you. but i’ve already warned you that you won’t like it when i’m mean.” 

“why are you so adamant on me going to tell you goodbye, huh?” you sit up on your bed now, no longer laying on your stomach facing the pillows, but flipped over to properly argue. all of the hurt you felt over the fact that this was ending and it meant nothing by this point was starting to bubble over, out of your control. “you probably have a wife at home! you probably— probably have a job, and kids, and a dog named, like, spot or something—” 

jensen nods along with everything you’re rambling on about, his lips pursed in disamusement. it’s when you stumble on the syllables out of your mouth that the sentences falter, and you’re staring at him with your chest heaving and your lip wobbling against your will. you weren’t supposed to miss him, and especially not now, when he wasn’t already gone. “you done?” 

“no!” you choke on it, spit it out like it burns your tongue. “i bet you’re really happy, too, with your little family. i bet you came here and saw something young, and new, and because you’re jensen ackles you couldn’t help yourself! you never could help yourself, i know this, dad always said so — you’d see one thing you wanted, and you—” 

his duffel clatters to the ground with a heavy thud, the strap scraping along the hardwood as it lands. you can barely process jensen’s footsteps crossing the space to you before he’s hauled you into his arms, all of your protests dying in your mouth. 

he’s taking you down the stairs, your mouth opening and closing before you can even think of telling him no, or to put you down, or to never let go. 

over his shoulder, you see your parents small forms from the screen door of your front entrance. they’re at the mailbox, talking to one of your neighbors, both of their backs to you and the neighbor turned to face them, capable of seeing you at any moment through his peripheral vision if he chose to glance over. 

you duck your head like that alone could save you from that possibility, tucking it behind jensen’s shoulder. “talkin’ to me like i’ve got somethin’ to prove,” he rasps in your ear, scoffing in disbelief, “who do you think you are, tryin’ to make me feel guilty?” 

jensen shoves you onto the countertop, his head hovering over you, looming like a shadow — overtaking you in a single breath. “the news flash, sweetheart, is that i don’t owe you shit.” his fingers close around your thigh, digging into the bare flesh as he pushes it open. “i don’t owe you my wife’s name, my kids’ names, my fuckin’ dog’s name, if i had any of that shit. i don’t owe you what my job is. i don’t owe you what i do in my freetime.” 

he curls his index finger over the crotch of your panties and tugs downwards, his other hand forcing each of your thighs up to wiggle the fabric down your legs. immediately, your eyes dart to the doorway, to the screen door open for anyone to see, to where you’re directly in the sights of any potential straying eyes. 

“and you know what i especially don’t owe you?” jensen asks, sinking his teeth into the inside of your thigh, nipping at the skin before lapping it under his tongue. he sits back a little, just enough so that one hand could come up and flip his baseball cap backwards on his head. “i don’t fucking owe you on why i like you, pretty baby,” he hums, giving you a wolfish grin before diving into the space between your legs, his head beneath your skirt.

you couldn’t hide your sharp gasp, not when it was all so sudden, and not when the scratch of his beard teases and rubs at the highest parts of your inner thighs and the sensitive skin of your folds, his tongue dipping between them to lick a stripe up the wet slit. one of your hands curls around the edge of the countertop, the other clamps over your mouth to keep quiet.

the last thing you wanted was for either of your parents to wonder what you were making noise for, or for your neighbor to catch too much movement through the glass door and peek over, and to see jensen’s head between your legs, or the throes of ecstasy he was beginning to drag you through. 

his hands grip your calves, keeping your legs open for him with a bruising grip on the skin, but his tongue and lips play a different story. they’re slower, more deliberate, like he was savoring the proper taste of you and not just the fleeting flick of his tongue or the wetness around his fingers. the thought alone has you squirming on the marble surface, knowing that he was teasing you on purpose, that he was just as capable of being much worse as he was being much more ravishing. 

his tongue flicks over the bundle of nerves between your folds and your fingers tighten over your mouth, just in time for him to suck it between his two lips. one of jensen’s hands lets go of your calf to grab upwards at your wrist, looking up at you with dark eyes through the span of his eyelashes. 

“uncover it or we’re going to the living room,” he breathes, his voice a delicious vibration against your clit, “and if you keep pushing me, baby, i’ll put you on the porch.” 

you let go of your mouth with haste, looking down at him with wide eyes. “but—” 

“you think i’m scared of them?” he asks, eyebrows bouncing up on his forehead. “why would i be? you think you’re nothing to me, that this is just bullshit, so why should i care who sees what i do to you? why should i care about you at all?” 

jensen’s glistening lips curl up into that sneering grin again, and he pushes your one leg open further, moving it to the back of your knee to hook his fingers around it and drag you closer to the edge of the countertop. he shifts his attention, trailing his tongue downwards to lap at the seeping wetness from your entrance, before pushing through it and into the tight throb of your heat.

it’s all you can do to not make a sound. the only outlet you have is the grip he still has on your wrist, your nails dug hard into the back of his hand. he doesn’t lift his head to see as he lets go of your hand to smack your digging nails away from his skin, the crescent marks evident in the tanned skin. 

instead, he grabs your fingers in a vice grip, holding them in his own tight enough that you can’t pull them free — like he’s almost afraid of the risk that you’ll let go. he’s relentless in his unabashed tongue fucking, breaking away for seconds at a time to suck and lap at your clit before returning. 

your breath leaves you in heaving gasps, your thighs closing tighter around his head, writhing against him. it only seems to encourage jensen further, the arching of your hips into his face making him groan in between your pussy lips.

he takes the time to learn all of your secrets. how you can’t help a gasp when he nuzzles closer, his beard leaving red splotches on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. how your spine arches when his teeth graze the throbbing nub of your clit. how you whimper softly, just for him, when he closes his mouth around your clit and sucks at it until it aches, and soothes it with the lap of his tongue as he collects every bit of your wetness on it and breathes it in. 

“please—” you beg, though you’re not sure for what, not when he’s started to pay special attention to your clit again and every thought in your head becomes a puddle, replaced with a constant buzz that only builds and builds.

he nips at it again and you whine throatily, just as he relents. jensen’s head dips lower to your entrance again, moaning against the new wave of wetness he finds in place of what he’d just swallowed down. “please what?” he rasps, making your toes curl at his sides. “thought i wasn’t happy with you. thought i was real fuckin’ happy to get away from this pussy.” 

“no!” you gasp the word out, no breath left in your lungs to rise above that sweet whisper of a sound. “no, no, no—” 

“yeah, you backtrack real fuckin’ fast when i’m eating your pussy, huh?” his laugh is bitter and cruel, but the kiss he presses to your clit is sweet, and so is the look he gives you through his eyelashes. a thin strip of green around the expanse of his pupils, big and glossy like he might actually like you, but dark enough to remind you that this, like everything, is a fleeting moment in a span of millions of other little moments.

you’re right on the cusp of the feeling you’ve been chasing, and he’s stopped. his cheek is pressed against your thigh, lips wet with the taste of you, the facial hair around his mouth wet and red from the friction. “you want the truth?” 

your heart screams yes. “no.” your head’s answer slips through your teeth.

he nods once, letting go of the back of your knee to smear his finger teasingly along your entrance, brushing the juices upwards and circling the pad of his thumb over your clit. “try again.” 

you shake your head. the tightness is beginning to curl up beneath your navel, each little brush of his thumb starting a slow crescendo. your head knocks back against the cabinet behind you with a soft thud, your legs spreading open wider in an attempt to grind your hips against his touch. 

jensen grabs your inner thigh again and holds it tight in his big hand, keeping you from squirming too much, no longer about to push you over the edge of the impending orgasm. “try. again.” 

you let out a little mewl at the lack of his touch leaving you panting and empty, the pleasure teetering right over the cusp. “stop it,” you manage to whimper out, again trying to wrestle your hand free from his other one. 

his lips twitch. “do you. want. the truth?” 

“no,” you rasp back at him, leaning your head off of the cabinets to be closer to eye level with him. 

silence follows like a heavy blanket. his thumb strokes slowly along the inside of your thigh where he holds it steady, his eyes never once dragging away from your face. “okay.” 

there’s no preemptive warning before jensen lets go of your leg and slides two fingers deep inside of you, just like there’s no preparation as he pumps them, curling them upwards to brush against the gushy spot inside of you that makes you whine again. the sparks of pleasure are so much more intense with how close you were, everything building at a speed you can’t keep up with. 

your fingers go slack in his grip, your head tipping forward that little bit more to press your forehead to his while you try to catch your breath. never once did jensen take his eyes off of you. and again, he doesn’t falter in that eye contact when he pulls his fingers out of you.

each breath is shallow in your lungs, your lips trembling as you fight against the need to scream and whine and hit him, probably, if you had access to your dominant hand. yeah, you’d hit him, and then you’d kiss it better, and—

“i meant it.” jensen ducks his head to catch your downturned eyes, nudging your head up with his nose along your jawline to force the eye contact. “when i said i wanted you to look at me. wanted you to see me.” he lets go of your hand, then, and surprisingly, you don’t swing on him. not immediately, anyways. “you’re the only fucking person here in this place who doesn’t have some idea of me in their head, you know that?”

you guessed he was right, but how were you supposed to take any of this to heart when you felt like you were made of lightning? when your tears sprung in your eyes with the need for release that he wouldn’t give and kept you from getting on your own? “you try and lie to yourself, baby, try to make yourself feel better about the fact that i’m walkin’ out of that door today. you made up stories to make it easier, assigned me a happy family waitin’ back at the ackles residence, just so you didn’t have to think about the fact that i’m gonna be in my bed every night, fucking my hand raw to the thought of what those moans would sound like if i didn’t have to force them into a pillow, or my fingers.” 

jensen leans up to brush his mouth along yours, glancing between the both of your eyes for an answer he’s not getting. “now are you gonna be a good girl and let me make you come on my tongue, or do i have to keep arguing with you?” 

he doesn’t move an inch as he waits. his eyes are brutal, piercing, watching you with a conviction that no one else has dared to. everyone around you has had high expectations without the room to catch you if you missed them, but his expectations are in the realm of something you want.

just like you’re the first person to look at him without the precognitive impressions your father tried to instill in you, he’s the first person to look at you and see past the goals and the blind hope. you could fall and he’d catch you, so long as you fell from somewhere within what you wanted, and not someone else.

you nod, but it’s not enough. his voice is made of gravel and sin when he whispers, “use that pretty little voice of yours for me.” 

“okay,” you sputter out quickly, as if that alone could make him give in any quicker. “yes, yes yes—” 

his head cocks in his amusement. “yes what?”

“yes, i’ll be good—” 

jensen let go of your hand and your thigh at once. his forearms slip underneath your knees to drag you just a little closer, pulling your thighs up and over his shoulders. and when his tongue dips between your folds and licks up the slick slit before he can close his mouth around your clit again, he moans. 

he licks at your clit and your entrance like he’s starving, nibbling along your clit with each flick of his tongue, each slight movement of his head making the raw skin of your inner thighs that much more inflamed. 

it doesn’t take long for the crest of your orgasm to crash over you, not with the way he ravished with tongue and teeth along your puffy clit and dove his tongue into your entrance with the same intensity he fucked you with. your head tips back into the cabinets, shaking fingers pressed to your mouth being the only thing stopping you from letting out a wail that would inevitably alert the whole town to what you were doing. 

jensen doesn’t stop, though, as you ride out the intensity of your comedown. he laps up every drop of your juices, soothes the beardburn on your inner thighs with kisses along every part of your skin he can reach, sucks your throbbing clit in between his lips just to feel you squirm a couple more times.

when he finally rises to his full height, dropping your legs back down from his shoulders, he keeps his palms on top of your thighs, rubbing little circles through the fabric of your dress. “you look pretty like this,” he whispers, capturing your lips in a kiss so much more gentle than how he was being before, pressing the taste of yourself back into your mouth, “i think i need to see you like this more often.” 

it takes a moment for the words to register, blinking your eyes back into focus when you meet his again. “you can’t—” 

jensen gives you an unimpressed look, still wearing the slick of your juices along his mouth like a wet trophy. he goes to the fridge to take out the nearly empty orange juice bottle he’d drank from a couple days ago, messing with the cap between his two fingers. “give me your phone.” 

you want to question him, but the look he gives you makes your mouth shut. you pull your phone out from underneath your thigh, something that just makes him smirk. he holds the juice in one hand and your phone in the other, swiping through things outside of your line of sight.

he looks kind of ridiculous, in an endearing sort of way. he has an uncapped bottle of orange juice in one hand and a cell phone in the other, mouth wet like he’d been drinking right— 

oh. you almost laugh, then, at how simply he’d reduced what he’d just done to the cover story of drinking juice. like he hadn’t just about had you in tears for the third time in his weekend stay with how good he’d made you feel. 

you hop off of the counter onto wobbly legs, bending down to tug your panties back up from where he’d aimlessly tossed them beneath you. 

the screen door squeaks open and slams shut just as you straighten back up to your feet. your heart nearly leapt out of your chest at the sound of it, at the intensity of the close call you’d narrowly missed. 

jensen forks over your phone again, giving you a wink in the process. “should be all good.” 

“hey, you heading out?” your dad asks from the kitchen doorway, patting his hand on the kitchen wall. he glances between the both of you with a little grin, so oblivious it’d make you feel nauseous if you weren’t so focused on staying upright.

jensen lifts the juice bottle to his mouth again, finishing the rest of the juice off in a quick swig before wiping the excess — and the remainder of your wetness — away with his thumb and sucking it into his mouth. he doesn’t even need to look at you for you to stumble on a breath, looking down at the phone in your hand. 

“yeah,” jensen says, placing the glass bottle down next to you on the countertop you leaned up against. “got a little thirsty. needed somethin’ sweet to tie me over on the drive.” 

he shrugs his duffel over his shoulder again. you can hear the rustle of it without needing to look up, afraid that your expression will give everything away if you look at him now. “bye, little lady,” jensen says, and that draws your attention. he’s devastating like this for many reasons: because he’s leaving, because he smiles with the sun in his teeth, because he can be so sweet after he can be so mean. his two finger salute makes you smile, and you mimic one right back to him before his back turns again. 

daring to see what he did on your phone, you find it open to text messages, where he’d sent something to, assumedly, his number from your phone, after very sweetly naming his contact daddy a.

to: daddy a staying at a hotel for a few nights. i’ll send the room number if you’re feeling brave enough to sneak out.

a dare and a promise all in one. you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, your face blooming in pink, just as your dad lets out a scoff of laughter. “and i always thought that orange juice was too sour, not sweet.”

notes | i dont rly have commentary for this one i just want in his drawls so bad. i was sweatin from the moment i wrote him turning the hat around ───ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfeedback & reblogs appreciated <3 !!

tags | @soldiersgirl @seven7lee @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @winchestersbgirl @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @lonelylonelybaby @mourningthewicked @ultravi0lence14 @1-imbroglio @hughesinthebox @angels-silhouette @blossomingorchids @chris444evr @cassiecourtemanche @writtenbyhollywood @adrienneleclerc @losers-clvb @bluemerakis @fuckedupfate @legalmente-loca @k-slla @fxckingjo @blueschevy @fitxgrld @viluren @youdontknowe @sizzlingcheesecakepanda @cupidluvzz @lanasgirlfr @h8aaz @coralfacecrown @doublecrazyyymofo @1ghxstt1 @mahi-wayy @narniabusinessbitch @zqarax @angelicjackles @arcannaa @am0rem @sthefferrete @v1v1-3 @spxideyver @suckitands33 @beausling @pieandflannel @briisbananass @cowboysandcigarettes @deanswidow @aurevina

[dina-winchester]

That’s Not in the Script

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x you // Established relationship

Summary: When a co-star crosses the line with an unexpected kiss on set, Jensen pulls you away to remind you both what real connection feels like.

Warnings: On-set tension, unwanted physical contact (non-consensual kiss), emotional distress/jealousy, sexual tension/intimate kiss

The set was colder than you expected, but Jensen’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders helped.

You loved watching him work.

There was something magnetic about seeing Jensen slip into character—charming, charismatic, completely in control. You’d visited the set a few times before, always staying out of the way, tucked behind the monitors or perched quietly in a director’s chair with a headset. Today was supposed to be more of the same: a quick lunch date on his break, maybe sneak in a few kisses in his trailer before he had to jump back into costume.

But that plan derailed fast.

You were watching the scene unfold through a monitor off-set. A flirty exchange between Jensen’s character and his female co-star—some actress they’d just brought in for a few episodes. You didn’t know her well, only that she was new and tried a little too hard every time you crossed paths. Flashing too-white smiles. Laughing too loud. Giving Jensen touches on the arm that lasted a beat too long—like she didn’t know the difference between flirting for the scene and flirting for real.

You tried not to care.

They were mid-scene. A little banter, some scripted chemistry, and then—bam. Her hands were in his hair, she stepped in close, and kissed him.

Full-on, open-mouthed, tongue.

Your stomach flipped.

Jensen stiffened immediately. You saw it in the tension in his shoulders, the way his arm didn’t touch her waist the way the script said it should. He didn’t kiss her back—not really—but the cameras were rolling. He had to get through the take.

The director yelled cut.

You expected him to laugh it off. To shake it off and move on.

But Jensen pulled back from her slowly, jaw tight.

“That wasn’t in the script,” he said, voice clipped.

She just smiled, all charm and faux innocence. “Oh no, did we overshoot it a little? It just felt like the characters were in it, y’know?”

Jensen’s jaw twitched.

“There’s a rule,” he said, voice low—calm, but cold. “No tongue. You know that.”

She blinked. “Oh, come on. It’s not like—”

“You pulled that shit on camera,” he cut in, sharp enough to draw blood. “With my girl standing right there.”

The silence that followed was instant. Crew members froze. The lighting guy shifted uncomfortably. She opened her mouth—maybe to argue—but Jensen was already looking past her.

His eyes found you through the haze of crew and cables—and the second they did, something in him snapped.

He didn’t say a word. Just moved.

Straight toward you, cutting through the set like nothing else existed. His hand found your waist the second he reached you.

“Come with me,” he muttered.

You followed him down the hallway, around a corner, into his trailer. The door slammed shut behind you.

You barely had time to turn before he was in front of you—hands on your face, eyes scanning yours like he needed to make sure you were okay.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said, low and rough. “I didn’t know she was gonna do that.”

“I know.” You placed your hands on his chest. “I saw the whole thing. You didn’t kiss her back.”

His jaw ticked. “She knows the rules. Everyone knows the rules. No tongue, ever. That’s not acting, that’s crossing a line.”

“She crossed it.”

“Yeah. And I didn’t stop it fast enough.”

You saw it then—the guilt underneath his anger. The way his brows pulled together like he was mad at himself for not shoving her off sooner.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. “It wasn’t your fault, Jensen. You were on camera. You handled it.”

His hands slipped down to your hips, gripping tighter than usual. “I didn’t like the way she touched me. Didn’t like her hands in my hair. I wanted to pull away the second it happened.”

You tilted your head, hand resting on his shoulder, thumb brushing his neck softly. “It’s okay, baby. The take would’ve been ruined. You had to handle it professionally.”

He exhaled slowly, voice lower now. “All I could think about was getting through it so I could get to you.”

Your heart twisted. “Baby…”

“I swear to God, if she ever tries that again—” He broke off, growling under his breath. “I’ve had some forward co-stars, but that? That was disrespectful.”

His hands slid lower, fingers curling behind your thighs. With one smooth motion, he lifted you—your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, like your body already knew exactly where it belonged. His grip tightened as he tugged you closer, crowding you gently against the wall. He held you there, secure against him, like letting go wasn’t even an option.

“I hate that she touched me like that with you right there. Hate that you had to see it.”

You cupped his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone. “I don’t really care. She doesn’t get you. I do.”

He kissed you then—slow and deep, nothing like what you’d just seen. His mouth moved with reverence, like he was trying to erase the memory, rewrite it with something real. His tongue teased gently into your mouth, barely there. His hand fisted in your hair as he tilted your head, deepening the kiss further, tongue sliding slow and sure against yours, pulling a soft, broken sound from the back of your throat.

He groaned low at the way you melted into him, pressing you harder against the wall, his mouth devouring yours with something hotter than anger, deeper than jealousy. His tongue moved with purpose—exploring, teasing, tasting you like he never wanted to stop.

When he finally broke the kiss, he stayed close, his breath ragged against your lips.

“You feel that?” he murmured against your lips. “That’s what it’s supposed to be.”

“Yeah, I feel it.” You murmured quietly, fingers slowly carding through the hair on the nape of his neck.

His thumb swept softly over your cheek, eyes locked with yours. “She doesn’t get that. Not a second of it,” he said. “Only ever want it to be like that—with you.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered. “Only yours.”

And just like that, the tension eased. You weren’t thinking about the scene anymore.

Just him. Just this.

[lacilou]

Good God, y'all.

J2 | Chicago Con 2023 | main panel

[soangelbaby]

ও need your kids ; jensen ackles

“. . . have a baby by me, baby be a billionaire . . .”

jensen grips your hips, lifting you slightly off the bed to remove your white lace panties. “you want my babies huh?” he smirked, lining his dick up at the slit of your already leaking pussy. he didn’t slide in immediately, instead he teased you, brushing his tip lightly against your soaking folds. you didn’t answer, just reached up gripping his shirt, “jensen—fuck please..” you moaned as you watched him play in your juices. he always went for games, always made you beg, with him nothing ever came easy. why would this be any different?

“please what baby? tell me what you need, i can’t read your mind.” he snickers, his hands travel up your body, stopping just at the curve of your waist. his eyes were locked on you, he loved the sight of you so desperate and needy for him, so vulnerable, he could keep you like this forever. “please nut in me, fill me up, want all of you.” you breathed out, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. jensen let out a low chuckle before leaning down to kiss you sloppily, he moved down to your neck sucking on your sweet spot. your polished nails clawed at his back as you felt his dick at your entrance again, but this time he slips in—no warning.

“f-fuck yes, jensen.” you moan out, feeling his dick veins rub against your walls, you could hear how wet you were for him, each thrust drawing everything out of you. his face was still buried in your neck, nipping and biting at the skin there, you were sure a hickey was already forming. “that’s it, take it all. let’s see if i can finally knock you up this time, yeah?” he groans against you, your stomach does flips as you let his words sink in. you wanted it so bad, no—you needed it, needed to see his cum leaking out of you, needed to milk him completely until he had nothing left to give, you wanted every single drop.

“mhm, baby—ugh—need all of it.” you arch into him, his dick repeatedly hitting your g-spot. his pace is brutal, relentless, there’s nothing soft about the way he’s fucking you, like he’s trying to bury himself so far you’ll never get him out. his fingers press against your lower belly, feeling every inch of himself there, how deep he’s buried inside you. “you feel that, baby? feel how deep i am? you’re gonna take all of it.” his voice low, thick with possession as he spreads your thighs wider for him, nearly behind your head. you nod, lips parting, but no words come out—just a breathy, wrecked little whine. your hands gripping his arms, fingertips leaving little crescents in his skin as his dick twitches inside of you. your legs lock around his waist and his thrusts become harsher, more punishing.

“shit babydoll, so tight and swollen for me.” jensen growls into your mouth. “tell me how bad you want my seed baby, tell me how bad you want me to make you a mommy, gonna fucking ruin you for anyone else.” his hand slips down between you to trace lazy circles over your clit, making your hips jolt. the added sensation is enough to send you over the edge, your entire body trembles beneath him, drawing a loud throaty whine from you. “there it is, such a good girl. taking my dick so well, this pretty pussy is all mine.” his weight is firm, pinning you in place as he ruts into you with reckless abandon. his lips drag along your jawline, breath hot against your skin—and then you feel it. the warm liquid shooting into you, coating your walls, and a guttural moan escapes jensen’s lips, rumbling against your skin. your walls clench around him, keeping his nut inside, it flooding you, spilling so deep into your spent little pussy.

“now get ready for another one, i’m not pulling out until i know it stuck kay? you wanted me raw, right baby?”

[wendichester]

hello, I love the vibe that Jensen and Jared have with their wives and all of them together. Sort of like a big family. Could u do something like that with Jensen x actress! Reader?

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 casserole nights,

pairing. jensen ackles x actress!reader ft. the padaleckis genre. domestic fluff

wordcount. 623

notes. thank you sm for requesting this, sweets 😙

It’s a quiet Sunday when the real magic happens.

Not the red carpet stuff. Not the award shows or interviews or film sets.

This is better.

This is casserole in the oven. A kid’s sock mysteriously on the stairs. Jared's laugh echoing from the back porch while Jensen flips burgers and pretends to be cooler than he is with a spatula in hand.

And you? You’re barefoot in an oversized T-shirt, sipping rosé in the kitchen, helping Gen prep salad while the smallest Ackles runs through the room yelling something about frogs and lightning.

It’s beautiful chaos. And it feels like home.

You met Jensen on set, of course. You were the new girl—that season’s mysterious guest star with a sword, a backstory, and the kind of snark that made Dean Winchester raise an eyebrow.

You were supposed to die in episode 7.

You didn’t. Because somewhere between fight training and late-night rewrites, the writers caught on to what you two already knew.

There was something real. Something honest.

Now here you are, three years and one wedding later, chopping cucumbers in his favorite house, surrounded by laughter and family.

Gen bumps your hip with hers. “Still not tired of him?” she teases, grinning. “That voice doesn’t get old?”

You snort. “Please. That man could narrate my nightmares and I’d still blush.”

“Gross.”

“You asked.”

Out on the deck, Jensen catches your eye through the screen door. He’s wearing sunglasses and a backwards hat, and he’s so smugly proud of whatever he's grilling. When he sees you, his whole face changes—softens. Warms. He mouths “hi, baby,” like you haven’t been near each other all day.

Your heart does that flutter it always does.

You mouth back, “hi, chef.”

Dinner is loud and messy and beautiful. Jared tells a story about Misha tripping over a fake demon corpse. Gen almost chokes on her wine. The kids yell over each other about superheroes and pancakes and something about Jensen snoring like a “dying rhino.”

“You love my snore,” Jensen mutters into your hair later, arms around you as you help clean up.

“You deny your snore every time,” you whisper back.

“Because it’s not a snore. It’s a—masculine exhale.”

“You almost broke the baby monitor.”

He tickles your ribs until you squeal and nearly drop a plate. Behind you, Jared yells, “Get a room!”

Later, when the dishes are done and the house is calm— (Gen and Jared asleep upstairs, the kids all finally knocked out, the porch lights still glowing) —you find Jensen in the kitchen, alone.

The radio’s playing something old and low. He’s leaning against the counter. Barefoot. Tired eyes. Soft smile.

You step toward him, hands still damp from the last towel-dry.

He holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?”

You don’t answer. You just slide into his arms.

There’s something perfect about it— the hush of the house, the echo of laughter still in the walls, the way his hands fit at your waist like he’s been holding you forever.

You rest your head on his chest. He smells like cologne and barbecue and home.

“I like our little family,” you murmur.

He kisses your temple. “I love it. I love you.”

Your eyes flutter closed. “Even when I eat all the fries off your plate?”

“Especially then. It’s part of your brand.”

You smile. “I want a night like this every week. All of us. Just—this.”

He nods against your hair. “We’ll make it a tradition. One big crazy table. You, me, our weird beautiful crew.”

And just like that, another piece of your heart roots itself here.

Not in the spotlight. Not in the script. But in this little pocket of heaven between the casserole and the quiet.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[lila-lou]

✨Twenty-One - 1/4✨

Summary: You thought this trip was just a chance to unwind — until the door opened and Jensen Ackles was standing there, larger than life and way too real. Now you're spending your birthday week in his house, trying not to lose your mind over your childhood crush who, somehow, keeps looking at you like you’re not just some kid anymore.

-requested-

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, kinda immoral

Word Count: 6636

DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes. I love them all.

AJ grinned as she rang the doorbell, clearly excited about your reaction to this trip. You, on the other hand, felt your stomach twist into knots. It wasn’t every day you were about to meet Jensen Ackles—a man you had grown up admiring, crushing on, and now, somehow, about to spend time with in the flesh.

The door swung open faster than you expected, and there he was.

Jensen Ackles stood in the doorway, casual yet effortlessly attractive in a plain t-shirt and jeans, his green eyes warm but curious as they landed on you. His light brown hair was slightly messy, like he’d just run his hand through it.

“Hey, kiddo”, he greeted AJ with a grin, pulling her into a quick hug before turning his attention to you. “And you must be Y/N. Heard a lot about you”.

Your brain short-circuited for a second. He heard about you? You barely managed to return his smile without looking like a total idiot.

“Uh—yeah. That’s me. Y/N”, you said awkwardly, cursing yourself immediately for sounding like a socially inept robot.

AJ laughed and nudged your side. “She’s just nervous. Big fan and all”.

Your eyes widened as you turned to glare at her, mentally screaming. She wasn’t supposed to say that! That was the last thing you wanted him to know.

Jensen chuckled, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Oh yeah?”, he teased, clearly amused. “Supernatural fan?”.

You swallowed hard. “Uhm—yeah. I mean—kinda”.

His smirk deepened, and you knew he knew. “Well, that’s good. At least you won’t be completely freaked out staying here for the week”.

You blinked. Wait, what?

AJ turned to you with a wide grin. “Yeah, forgot to mention that part. We´re staying here. Dad’s got plenty of space, and this way, we don’t have to waste money on a hotel”.

Your mouth went dry. A whole week… in Jensen Ackles’ house?

Jensen patted your shoulder lightly, the simple touch making your skin tingle. “Make yourself at home, Y/N”, he said, his voice smooth and warm. “It’s gonna be fun”.

And just like that, your already dangerous crush on him? It just got a hundred times worse.

As AJ disappeared into the kitchen, already rummaging through the fridge like she owned the place—which, to be fair, she kind of did—you found yourself alone with Jensen.

He smiled down at you, his green eyes studying you with an easy warmth. “So, you and AJ met at the shelter, huh?”, he asked, leading you through the house at a relaxed pace.

You nodded, still feeling slightly on edge just being here. “Yeah, about a year ago. I worked there while studying, and AJ came in for her internship”.

Jensen chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “That sounds like her. Always wanting to do a little bit of everything”. His voice was deep and smooth, the kind of voice that could make reading a grocery list sound interesting.

“Yeah”, you agreed softly. “She’s… definitely a lot more outgoing than me”.

He glanced at you, his expression turning thoughtful. “Not a bad thing”, he said, stopping at the base of the staircase. “Sometimes, the quiet ones have the most to say. Just takes the right person to listen”.

Your stomach flipped at his words. Did he just say something that deep… about you? Before you could even think of a response, he motioned toward the stairs. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying”.

You followed him up, trying your best not to let your eyes wander, except that was nearly impossible. The man was built like a damn Greek god. Broad shoulders, muscular back, those strong arms… it should’ve been illegal for someone to look that good in just a t-shirt.

“This is you”, Jensen said, pushing open a door at the end of the hall. The room was spacious but cozy, with a queen-sized bed, a soft gray comforter, and a window that overlooked the backyard.

“Wow”, you breathed, stepping inside. “This is… really nice”.

Jensen leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. “Good. I want you to feel comfortable here. And if AJ gets too annoying, you can always escape in here”.

You smiled at that, your nerves easing slightly. “Thanks. That’s… really nice of you”.

He tilted his head, watching you. “It’s your birthday tomorrow, right?”.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Uh—yeah. How’d you know?”.

Jensen smirked. “AJ’s been talking about it for weeks”. He pushed off the doorframe, his presence effortlessly commanding even in such a relaxed stance. “We’ll have to do something special”.

Your heart skipped a beat. Jensen Ackles wanted to do something for your birthday?

Before you could embarrass yourself by overthinking, AJ’s voice called from downstairs. “Dad! You seriously have nothing good to eat! What kind of house is this?”.

Jensen sighed, shaking his head as he turned. “Guess I need to feed the gremlin before she starves”.

You let out a soft laugh, watching as he walked away. As soon as he was gone, you flopped onto the bed, face-first, groaning into the pillow.

A whole week here. With him. You were so screwed.

You had barely kicked off your shoes and sat up when Jensen’s deep voice echoed from downstairs. “Y/N! What do you want to eat?”.

Your brain short-circuited for a second. He was asking you? Like, personally? Not just assuming you’d go along with whatever AJ wanted?

You scrambled to the doorway, hesitating before calling back, “Uh—whatever’s fine! I’m not picky!”.

There was a pause, then his voice came again, closer this time. “That’s not an answer, kid”.

Your stomach flipped at the nickname. Not that it was unusual, he probably called people around AJ´s age “kid” all the time, but coming from him? It did something to you.

You took a deep breath, stepping out of your room and heading toward the stairs. “Um… pizza?”.

Jensen appeared at the bottom of the staircase, looking up at you with an amused smirk. “There. Was that so hard?”.

Your face burned as you shrugged. “I just—didn’t want to be a bother”.

He scoffed. “You’re staying in my house, Y/N. You better tell me what you want to eat. I don’t need you passing out on me”.

AJ suddenly popped out from behind him, a bag of chips in hand. “Yeah, trust me, Dad. Y/N gets all quiet when she’s hungry. It’s creepy”.

You rolled your eyes. “I do not”.

“She totally does”, AJ confirmed, shoving a chip in her mouth. “She’s like a little sad puppy until she eats”.

Jensen chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled his phone out. “Alright, pizza it is. Any topping requests?”.

You hesitated for half a second, but AJ was already answering for you. “She loves pepperoni and extra cheese”.

Jensen raised an eyebrow, glancing at you. “That true?”.

You nodded, feeling oddly exposed by how well AJ knew you. “Yeah”.

Jensen grinned, nodding as he scrolled on his phone. “Good choice. You and I are gonna get along just fine, Y/N”.

You swallowed hard at that, ignoring the way your heart did a weird little flip. Get it together. He was just being nice. Like a dad.

AJ, of course, wasn’t about to let you off the hook. “She’s also a total freak about garlic bread”.

Jensen looked up, amused. “Oh yeah?”.

AJ nodded, grinning like she had just exposed your deepest secret. “Like, I swear she’d marry a loaf of it if she could”.

You groaned, covering your face. “AJ, shut up”.

Jensen just chuckled, already adding it to the order. “Alright, garlic bread for the birthday girl”.

Your stomach twisted. Oh. Right. He knew.

It wasn’t that you hated birthdays, but growing up, they were never big for you. No extravagant parties, no expensive gifts, just a simple cake, maybe a dinner if money allowed. So hearing Jensen Ackles, the man you had crushed on for years, say it so casually? It felt… weird.

Nice. But weird.

“AJ mentioned you’re turning 21”, Jensen said, locking his phone and glancing at you. “Big milestone. We should do something fun”.

AJ perked up. “Oh! Can we take her out?”.

You froze. “Wait, what?”.

AJ turned to you, practically vibrating with excitement. “Dude, it’s your 21st birthday. We have to do something! A bar, a club, something!”.

Jensen smirked, crossing his arms. “You’re still eighteen, AJ. You’re not going anywhere”.

AJ groaned dramatically. “Ugh, technicalities”.

You, on the other hand, were too focused on the part where Jensen was apparently planning your birthday now. “I—I don’t know”, you stammered, suddenly nervous. “I hadn’t really planned anything. It’s not a big deal”.

Jensen scoffed. “Yeah, not happening. You only turn 21 once”.

AJ gasped, her eyes lighting up. “Ooooh, Dad, you should take her out!”.

Your entire body went stiff. “What?!”.

Jensen just raised an eyebrow at his daughter’s enthusiasm. “Uh…”.

AJ clapped her hands together, already hyping herself up. “Yes! Think about it. You know all the cool places, she’s never been to LA before, and she needs to live a little! It’s perfect”.

You opened your mouth to protest, because what the hell was she even suggesting?!, but Jensen only chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… guess I don’t mind playing chaperone for the night”.

AJ grinned at you. “See? Perfect”.

You stared at her, absolutely betrayed. “AJ, what are you doing?”, you whispered, mentally panicking.

She just smirked. “Giving you the best birthday ever, duh”.

Jensen stretched, cracking his neck. “Alright, pizza should be here soon. You two go set the table or something”.

You barely registered his words. Your brain was too busy spiraling. Because tomorrow night? You were going out. With Jensen Ackles.

You grabbed a couple of napkins, setting them next to the paper plates while AJ plopped down on the couch, watching you with a mischievous grin. “We need to doll you up”, she declared, tossing a napkin onto the table.

You groaned, already knowing where this was going. “AJ—”

“I’m serious!”, she cut in, sitting up and pointing at you. “You’re so pretty, but you always dress so… lamely”.

Your face heated up. “I do not”.

AJ gave you a look. “Y/N, I love you, but your entire wardrobe is, like, neutral colors and jeans. Do you even own a dress?”.

You hesitated. “…Maybe”.

AJ gasped dramatically. “Oh my God, maybe?!”.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile. “Not all of us have unlimited shopping sprees, AJ”.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Money has nothing to do with it! You just need to, like… embrace your hotness”.

You nearly choked. “Excuse me?”.

AJ grinned. “Dude, you’re gorgeous. But you hide behind all these boring clothes and oversized hoodies”. She wiggled her eyebrows. “And since you’re spending your birthday night out with my dad, we need to upgrade your look”.

You froze. “AJ, it’s not like that—”.

“Oh, please”, She smirked. “Dad’s gonna be in full ‘protective mode’, but that doesn’t mean you can’t look hot”.

Your face felt like it was on fire. “AJ, I am not dressing up just to—”.

“Too late”, she sang, already pulling out her phone. “We’re raiding my closet after dinner. I have so many things that’ll look amazing on you”.

You sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. “You’re really set on this, huh?”.

AJ grinned. “Absolutely”.

Before you could protest again, the doorbell rang.

“Pizza’s here!”, Jensen’s voice came from the hallway.

AJ clapped her hands, jumping up. “Saved by the pizza. But don’t think I’m letting this go”.

You groaned, running a hand down your face as she skipped off to the door. Tomorrow night was going to be a disaster.

Dinner had been surprisingly easygoing. A lot of small talk, mostly AJ dominating the conversation while you and Jensen occasionally chimed in. He was easy to talk to—casual, funny, even a little sarcastic—but still, every time he looked at you, you felt hyperaware of yourself. Like he could see right through your nervous energy.

But then, once the pizza was mostly gone, Jensen leaned back in his chair, stretching a little before fixing you with a serious look. “Alright, birthday girl”, he started, “if we’re going out tomorrow, we gotta set some ground rules”.

You straightened slightly, feeling weirdly like a teenager getting lectured by a parent. “Rules?”.

Jensen nodded. “Yeah. First off, no posting about it online. I’m not super hounded by paparazzi, but I also don’t need some rando snapping pics of me in a club with a 21-year-old and spinning it into some weird-ass headline”.

That… made sense. You hadn’t even thought about that. You nodded. “Yeah, of course”.

“Second”, he continued, taking a sip of his beer, “I’m picking the club. I know a few spots that are discreet. Last thing you need is to deal with a bunch of drunk superfans losing their minds because they recognize me”.

You swallowed. Right. Because he was Jensen freaking Ackles. Just because he was so casual about it didn’t change the fact that millions of people worshipped him.

“And third…”. He hesitated for a second, then smirked slightly. “Look, I know you’re young, but just—don’t do anything stupid. Don’t disappear, don’t take drinks from strangers, and for the love of God, don’t hook up with some dude in the club bathroom”.

You nearly choked on your drink. “Jensen!”.

AJ screamed from across the couch, doubling over in laughter. “OH MY GOSH. AS IF”, She was gasping between giggles. “Dad, she’s—she’s the biggest virgin ever”.

Your eyes widened in horror. “AJ, what the hell?!”.

Jensen, to his credit, just raised an eyebrow, looking highly amused. “That so?”, he mused, taking another sip of beer.

You covered your face with both hands. This was not happening.

AJ was still cackling. “I swear! She’s like, scared of flirting. It’s adorable”.

You groaned, wanting to sink into the floor. “Oh my God, can we not talk about this?”.

Jensen smirked. “Alright, alright. No judgment, kid”.

The way he said it, so damn casually, made your stomach do something stupid. Like he wasn’t laughing at you, just… observing.

AJ wiped tears from her eyes, still giggling. “I love this. This is the best day ever”.

You glared at her. “You’re the worst”.

She just grinned. “And yet, you love me”.

Jensen shook his head, still looking entertained. “Alright, enough embarrassing Y/N for one night”. He pushed up from his chair, stretching. “I’m heading to bed. You two don’t stay up all night”.

AJ saluted dramatically. “Yes, Dad”.

You were still burning with embarrassment as Jensen walked past, clapping your shoulder lightly. “Don’t let her bully you too much, kid”. And with that, he was gone, leaving you a mess on the couch while AJ kept laughing.

The next day passed in a blur. You had tried to distract yourself, watching movies with AJ, helping clean up the kitchen, and avoiding thinking too hard about the fact that tonight, you’d be going out with Jensen.

But, of course, AJ had other plans. “Alright, birthday girl”, she announced, throwing open her closet doors dramatically. “Time for your transformation”.

You sighed, standing near the doorway. “I don’t need a transformation, AJ”.

She turned to you, hands on her hips, like a mom about to scold her child. “Yes, you do. You’re turning twenty-one. You’re going out for the first time. You are not—I repeat, NOT—going in your usual boring outfit”.

You huffed. “It’s not boring. It’s just comfortable”.

AJ gave you a look. “We are not prioritizing comfort tonight. We are prioritizing hotness”.

You groaned. “AJ…”.

She ignored you, already digging through hangers, tossing options onto her bed. “We need something sexy but not too much. Hot, but classy. Like… ‘Oops, I didn’t mean to be this attractive, but here we are’”.

You rolled your eyes. “That’s… weirdly specific”.

AJ gasped suddenly, pulling out a sleek, form-fitting black dress. “This. This is it”.

Your eyes widened. “AJ, that’s… tiny”.

She scoffed. “It’s not tiny, it’s perfect. Try it on”.

You hesitated, but one look at AJ’s dead serious expression told you there was no way out of this. Fine. You grabbed the dress and disappeared into the bathroom. When you slipped it on, you barely recognized yourself. It hugged your body in all the right ways, the hem stopping mid-thigh, the neckline just low enough to be dangerous. You stared at your reflection, heart pounding. Was this really you?

“Are you done yet?!”, AJ’s voice called impatiently.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out.

AJ’s jaw dropped. “FUCKING. SHIT”.

Your face burned. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”.

AJ shook her head so fast you thought she might get whiplash. “Too much?! No, this is—this is perfect. Like, I almost want to cry. My little Y/N is finally embracing her hotness”.

You groaned. “Please stop talking”.

She ignored you, circling around like she was inspecting her masterpiece. “You’ve been hiding this under your oversized hoodies all this time?”. She gasped.

Before you could argue, a knock sounded on the bedroom door. Jensen’s voice came through. “You two ready yet?”.

Your stomach twisted into a knot at the sound of Jensen’s voice. Ready? That was debatable. AJ, of course, had no hesitation. She threw open the door, revealing Jensen standing in the hallway, dressed in a fitted black button-up with the sleeves rolled up just enough to ruin your life.

His gaze landed on you—and froze.

For the briefest second, you swore you saw his breath hitch. His eyes flickered down, taking in the dress, the way it hugged your figure, and then just as quickly, he cleared his throat, looking away.

“Well, damn”, he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “You clean up nice”.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to act normal. “Uh… thanks”.

AJ, meanwhile, was beaming like she had just won the lottery. “Told you she looked hot”.

Jensen shot her a look. “Alright, that’s enough”.

AJ just laughed, linking her arm with yours and dragging you down the hallway. “Come on, let’s eat. You can’t party on an empty stomach”.

Dinner was surprisingly… nice.

Jensen took you both to a quiet restaurant, low lighting, a cozy atmosphere, nothing too fancy, but still nice. AJ did most of the talking (as always), but you couldn’t help but notice the way Jensen would glance at you every now and then.

Little things—making sure you liked your food, refilling your drink before you even realized it was low. It wasn’t anything obvious, but it made your stomach flutter all the same.

When dinner wrapped up, Jensen tossed his credit card on the table before you or AJ could even pretend to argue.

AJ stretched dramatically. “Alright, time to go. Birthday girl has a club to get to”. You paused. Right. The plan. Jensen was dropping AJ off at home first, then… then it was just you and him. Alone. In a club.

By the time you pulled up to AJ’s house, she was already half-asleep in the backseat.

Jensen shifted the car into park and looked back at her. “Alright, kiddo, inside you go”.

AJ blinked groggily. “Ugh. Fine”. Then she turned to you, smirking just enough to let you know she was still AJ. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do”.

You rolled your eyes. “Which is…?”.

She grinned. “Nothing. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do”.

Jensen groaned. “Out. Now”.

AJ laughed, hopping out of the car. “Love you both! Don’t be lame!”.

And just like that, it was just you and Jensen. The car was suddenly too quiet.

Jensen exhaled, gripping the wheel for a second before looking over at you. “You ready for this?”.

You nodded, though your heart was pounding. “Yeah. You?”.

He smirked, shifting the car into drive. “Let’s find out”.

The drive to the club was quiet, but not exactly uncomfortable. Just… charged.

Jensen had one hand on the wheel, his other resting casually on the gear shift, his fingers tapping lightly as he drove. The streetlights cast quick flashes of gold across his face, highlighting his sharp jawline, the slight crease in his brow.

You, on the other hand, were trying not to lose your mind.

It wasn’t like this was a date, not even close, but the fact that you were alone with Jensen Ackles, dressed like this, going out for your birthday… it felt like something you shouldn’t even allow yourself to overthink.

But, of course, you were overthinking it anyway. After a moment, Jensen glanced over at you. “You good?”.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just… haven’t really done this before”.

He smirked, eyes flicking back to the road. “First time clubbing?”.

You exhaled. “Yeah. Not exactly my scene”.

Jensen let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, figured as much”.

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”.

He shrugged, lips twitching. “You just seem… more like the ‘cozy night in’ type. Movie marathons, takeout, that kind of thing”.

Your heart skipped. He had known you for barely two days and somehow already had you pegged. “…Not wrong”, you muttered, crossing your arms.

Jensen smirked. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll make sure you survive”.

You swallowed. Kid. That damn nickname. You weren’t sure why it bothered you tonight. Maybe because you didn’t feel like a kid. Not in this dress, not sitting next to him like this, not with the way his voice sounded so smooth and effortless.

You needed a distraction. “So, why are you even doing this?”, you asked, shifting in your seat. “Taking me out, I mean”.

Jensen hummed, considering for a moment. “Well, AJ was very insistent”.

You huffed. “Yeah, that sounds like her”.

He glanced at you again. “And… you only turn twenty-one once. Figured you deserved a proper night out”.

Something about the way he said it—calm, certain—sent a shiver down your spine.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “You do this often?”.

Jensen chuckled. “What, take barely legal girls to clubs?”.

Your face burned. “Oh my God—that’s not what I meant”.

He just laughed, shaking his head. “Relax, kid. I know”. Then, after a beat, he added, “And no. Haven’t really gone out much lately. Not my scene either, honestly”.

That surprised you. “Then why—?”.

He smirked. “Told you. Birthday rule. Plus, if I don’t do it, AJ will never let me hear the end of it”.

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “She really does have you wrapped around her finger”.

Jensen sighed dramatically. “Tell me about it”.

The car slowed as he pulled onto a side street, the bright neon lights of the club flickering in the distance. He put the car in park, then turned to you, his expression suddenly more serious.

“Alright, some more ground rules”.

You straightened, nodding. “Okay”.

Jensen held up a finger. “One—stay where I can see you. I’m not dealing with you disappearing on me”.

You swallowed. “Got it”.

“Two—if any guy gives you trouble, you come find me”.

Your breath caught slightly. “Uh… okay”.

“And three—”. He leaned back, giving you a smirk. “Try to have some fun”.

You exhaled a laugh. “I’ll… do my best”.

Jensen grinned, then unbuckled his seatbelt. “Let’s go, birthday girl”.

Your stomach twisted as you stepped out of the car, the music from inside the club already thumping through the pavement. You weren’t sure if it was the nerves or the excitement making your heart race. But either way… there was no turning back now.

The bass from the club pulsed through the pavement as you followed Jensen toward the entrance. The neon lights cast an electric glow over everything, and for a moment, you wondered what the hell you were doing.

This wasn’t your scene. Not even close. But somehow, being here with him made it feel a little less terrifying.

Jensen walked up to the bouncer like he’d done this a hundred times before. The guy at the door barely glanced at him before unhooking the velvet rope. “Good to see you again, man”, the bouncer said, nodding.

Jensen smirked. “Appreciate it”.

You blinked. Wait.

“You know the bouncer?”, you asked as you followed him inside.

Jensen shrugged. “Told you, I picked a place that’s… familiar”.

You stared at him. “What does that even mean?”.

But Jensen just grinned. “Come on, let’s get a drink”.

The club was packed. Music blasted from the speakers, the air thick with heat and the scent of alcohol. Colorful strobe lights cut through the haze, illuminating the crowd of bodies moving in sync with the beat. Jensen led you through the mass of people, his hand hovering near the small of your back—not touching, but just close enough that you felt completely hyper-aware of his presence.

When you reached the bar, he turned to you. “What’s your poison?”.

You hesitated. “Uh… I don’t really know”.

Jensen chuckled, shaking his head. “Right. First time and all”. He turned to the bartender. “Two whiskey sours”.

Your brows lifted. “Oh, we’re starting with whiskey?”.

Jensen smirked. “Trust me”.

The drinks arrived quickly. You took a cautious sip, the mix of citrus and smooth burn of whiskey hitting your tongue. “Okay”, you admitted. “Not bad”.

Jensen raised his glass. “Happy birthday, kid”.

You huffed. “Still with the ‘kid’ thing?”.

He smirked, taking a sip. “Force of habit”.

You rolled your eyes but clinked your glass against his anyway. As you drank, you let yourself take it all in. The music, the lights, the fact that you were here, in a club, drinking with Jensen Ackles. The absurdity of it all made you laugh under your breath.

Jensen arched a brow. “What?”.

You shook your head, smiling. “Just… this isn’t how I thought I’d spend my twenty-first birthday”.

Jensen leaned against the bar, smirking. “Better or worse?”.

Your stomach flipped. You licked your lips, setting your drink down. “Still deciding”.

He chuckled. “Well, we’ve got the whole night. Let’s see if I can change your mind”.

Before you could respond, the music shifted—something fast, infectious.

Jensen tilted his head toward the dance floor. “You gonna dance?”.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, uh… I don’t really—”.

“Bullshit”. He smirked. “Come on. Let’s see what you got”.

Your pulse skyrocketed. “Wait—you mean… with you?”.

Jensen just grinned and held out a hand. You stared at it, heart hammering. This was so not a good idea. And yet… You took his hand.

Jensen’s hand was warm, his grip firm but easy, like this wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t dragging you onto the dance floor in the middle of a crowded club. Your brain screamed at you to protest, to tell him you weren’t much of a dancer, that this was dangerous territory.

But you didn’t. Because the second he pulled you into the crowd, the music swallowed you whole. The bass thrummed through your chest, the lights flashing in shades of blue and red, bodies moving all around you in time with the rhythm. You barely had time to catch your breath before Jensen turned to face you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Relax”, he said over the music. “It’s just dancing”.

Just dancing. You exhaled sharply, trying to convince yourself of that. But then Jensen moved. He didn’t go all-in right away. Just a casual sway, easy and effortless, his body rolling with the beat like it was second nature. His hands stayed at his sides, giving you space, but his eyes? They were right on you. He was watching. Waiting.

Your pulse skyrocketed. Okay. Fine. You could do this. You started slow, mirroring his movements, testing the rhythm. It wasn’t that you couldn’t dance, it was just that you never had, at least not like this. Not with him.

Jensen grinned when he saw you loosen up. “There you go”.

The music picked up, and without thinking, you let your body move. The alcohol in your system helped, making you just a little bolder, a little less aware of your own awkwardness.

And then, Jensen stepped closer. Not too close. Not inappropriate. But close enough. Close enough that when the beat dropped, and you turned slightly, his hand found your waist, just for a second, just barely there. Your breath hitched.

He leaned in, his voice low, just above your ear. “See? Not so bad”.

You swallowed. “Not bad”, you managed, but it didn’t sound nearly as casual as you wanted it to.

Jensen smirked, his fingers brushing your waist again, so light, so subtle, you almost could have imagined it. But you didn’t. Because when your eyes met his, there was something different there. Something that made your whole body hum with awareness.

The song shifted again, something slower, heavier. Jensen didn’t move away. Neither did you. And just like that, the air between you changed. It was no longer just dancing. It was something else. Something neither of you had expected.

Your pulse was out of control. You barely thought as you grabbed your drink, tipping it back in one go, the alcohol burning its way down your throat.

Jensen watched, his smirk deepening. “Damn, kid”.

You ignored the way that nickname made your stomach flip, setting the empty glass onto the nearest table. When you turned back, Jensen was still right there, his green eyes glinting under the flashing club lights.

Then, before you could process what was happening, he reached for your hand. And spun you. A quick, fluid motion—his fingers barely grazing yours—until suddenly, your back was against his chest.

He wasn’t touching you—not fully—but he was close. Close enough that you felt the heat of him, the warmth of his breath as it fanned across your shoulder.

And now? Now, you were really dancing.

The beat pulsed through your veins, your body moving with the rhythm. The hesitation you’d had before? Gone. The alcohol, the music, the way Jensen’s presence wrapped around you like a second skin, it was all too much, and at the same time, not enough.

You let your hands lift slightly, swaying to the beat, and that’s when it happened. Jensen’s fingers, just barely, brushed against your hip. It wasn’t much. The lightest touch. But it sent a sharp jolt through your spine.

You swallowed hard, hyper-aware of him now. The way his body moved so easily behind you. The way he still wasn’t touching you fully, like he was waiting. Testing. Like he was seeing how far this could go.

And you? You weren’t stopping him.

Another beat, another sway. His fingers pressed—firmer, deliberate—just at the curve of your hip. Your stomach tightened.

“Still with me?”. His voice was low, rough, right against your ear.

Your breath stuttered. “Yeah”.

Jensen hummed, a sound that rumbled through your back. “Good”.

You didn’t know how long you danced. Didn’t care. Because for the first time in your life, you weren’t overthinking. You were just feeling. And damn, did it feel good.

Hours had passed in a blur of music, lights, and the heat of Jensen’s presence. You had danced longer than you ever thought possible, had another drink (or two, who was counting?), and somewhere along the way, you had lost every ounce of hesitation.

Now, however, reality was hitting you all at once.

You weren’t wasted, but you were definitely buzzed—that loose, giggly kind of drunk that made the world tilt just slightly when you walked.

And Jensen? He was handling you. Not in an overbearing way. Not in a “let’s go, you’re done” way.

No. He was calm. Collected. Like this wasn’t the first time he had to lead a tipsy twenty-one-year-old out of a club.

His hand rested firmly at your lower back as he guided you through the crowd, his grip steady whenever you swayed too much. “You’re lucky you’re a fun drunk”, he murmured as he pulled open the club’s side door, letting in the crisp night air.

You giggled, feeling way too warm. “What’s a not fun drunk?”.

Jensen smirked, keeping his pace slow as you walked toward the parking lot. “The crying ones. The aggressive ones. The ones who throw up in my car”.

You gasped dramatically. “I would never”.

Jensen huffed a laugh, unlocking the car. “Yeah, well, let’s keep it that way”.

You felt light. Giddy. Like this whole night was floating around you in some hazy, surreal dream. When you reached the passenger door, you turned, swaying slightly. “You know…”, you started, tilting your head. “You’re really good at this”.

Jensen raised an eyebrow, amused. “At what?”.

You blinked slowly, trying to find your words. “Taking care of people”.

His smirk softened just a little. “Comes with the territory”.

You hummed. “Yeah… you’re like… a responsible, sexy bodyguard”.

Jensen froze. Your own brain stalled. Did you—did you just say that out loud? A beat of silence.

Then, Jensen smirked. “Sexy, huh?”.

Oh. My. God. You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide. “Forget that. That wasn’t—that was nothing—”.

Jensen laughed. Like, full-on laughed. “Alright, lightweight, let’s get you in the car before you start confessing more things”, he teased, opening the passenger door.

You groaned, hiding your face. “I hate myself”.

Jensen nudged you toward the seat, still smirking. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll let that one slide”.

You huffed as you slid into the car, your face on fire. Jensen shut the door, walking around to the driver’s side. You exhaled deeply. You needed sleep. Water. A new identity, maybe. Because fucking shit. You just called him sexy.

The second Jensen started driving, you knew you were in trouble. Your head was still spinning, your body warm from the alcohol, the dancing, and—let’s be honest—him.

You couldn’t just sit here in awkward silence after what you’d said. You had to fix it. “I just meant”, you started, turning toward him in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, “you’re, like, objectively attractive”.

Jensen’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Oh no.

“Like—like, obviously. People would agree”, you continued, rambling. “You’ve got, you know, the whole… thing going on”.

He raised an eyebrow. “The thing?”.

You gestured vaguely. “Yeah. The voice, the muscles, the face. You know”.

Jensen exhaled sharply through his nose. “Shit, (Y/N)”.

You panicked. “But not, like, in a weird way! I just mean you’re, like… manly. Like, rugged. You’ve got that whole strong, protective, could-break-someone-in-half vibe”.

Jensen’s jaw flexed. His grip on the wheel went white-knuckle tight. You were making this worse. You gulped. “Like—not that I’d want to be broken in half, obviously—”.

Jensen let out a rough breath, shifting slightly in his seat. You had no idea that your innocent, drunk little rant was currently making his dick twitch. But it was. Because all he could think about now was you—dressed like that, pressed against him on the dance floor, moving without hesitation. And now, sitting in his car, talking like this. About him.

His jaw was tight. “Y/N”.

You perked up. “Yeah?”.

Jensen huffed. “Stop talking”.

Your mouth snapped shut. For a second, you swore the air in the car felt different. Heavy. Charged. You glanced at him, blinking. “Did I—did I say something wrong?”.

Jensen exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “No. You just… need to stop before you dig yourself in deeper”.

The rest of the drive was tense, but not because of any argument or discomfort. No, the tension was something else. Something thicker, heavier. Something Jensen should not have been feeling.

You sat there, legs crossed, fiddling with the hem of your dress, clearly buzzed and completely oblivious to what you had just done to him. To be fair, you didn’t know any better. You were young. Inexperienced. Completely innocent in ways you didn’t even realize.

And Jensen was not. That was the problem. That was why his grip was too tight on the steering wheel. That was why his jaw clenched every time your soft little voice rambled about how manly and strong he was.

Because you didn’t even realize what you were saying. Didn’t realize that any other man your age would’ve jumped at the chance to take advantage of the fact that you were sitting here, flushed and tipsy, calling him sexy without a second thought.

Didn’t realize that the words could break someone in half had sent a sharp, unwelcome pulse straight through him. Because he could. And that was the worst part—because you? You were so damn soft. So untouched. So sweet and nervous and trying so hard to make things right.

And here he was, a man nearly twice your age, trying not to think about how warm you’d felt against him hours ago. How easily you had melted into him when he’d spun you on the dance floor. How your breath had hitched when he touched your waist.

And now, you were sitting there, cheeks pink, babbling in that innocent little voice, so damn unaware of the effect you were having on him.

Jensen swallowed hard. This was not good. Not at all.

Then, your voice cut through the silence. “Are you mad at me?”.

He glanced over, blinking. “What?”.

You bit your lip. “I just… I didn’t mean to make things weird”.

Fuck. That lip.

He forced himself to focus. Shook his head. “You didn’t”.

You still looked guilty, your fingers twisting in your lap. “I just—sometimes I don’t know when to shut up”.

Jensen huffed a laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. I noticed”.

You made a little sound of protest, smacking his arm lightly. “Hey!”.

He smirked, glancing at you again, this time, really looking. You were so young. Too young to be in his car like this, looking at him like that, trusting him completely. And he needed to get his shit together. Fast.

Jensen exhaled. “Relax, kid. I’m not mad”.

You softened. “Promise?”.

His fingers flexed against the wheel. Fuck, you had no idea. But still, he nodded. “Promise”.

And when you smiled, looking relieved, Jensen knew. He had no business feeling the way he did. Because no matter how much your words had messed him up tonight… You were off-limits.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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Part 2

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Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick @lmg14

[zepskies]

Have you seen this https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP86CN7kx/? Since you do little headcanons of each character Jensen's played, what would their reactions be? Bonus if you could do Jensen too please?

Lol I'm not on TikTok much anymore, but this "hat on backwards, hand on the wall" trend is so cute and hilarious in reverse (the woman trying it out on her man). 😝 Love how she had to get up on a chair just to do it and still got him all flustered. 🤭

But as far as how Jackles characters would react...

HEADCANON: Turning the Tables

Pairings: Dean x Reader || Beau x Reader || Soldier Boy x Reader || Russell x Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Sexy teasing, implied smut. Soldier Boy's got away from me a little bit lol

Dean Winchester

Dean's actually doing his due diligence in the library, flipping through a lore book for a case. There's a little stool nearby that Sam found for you when you need to reach the top shelves. A mischievous smile spreads across your face.

Sneaking up behind your boyfriend, you grab the stool and slide it over. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, but his eyebrows raise when you take the book out of his hands and shove it haphazardly back on the shelf.

"What? What's happening?" he says.

Biting your lip, you turn your baseball cap backward on your head, rest your elbow against the shelf above his head, and you draw Dean in with a hand on his cheek, sealing the deal with a slow, lusty kiss.

His furrowed brows of confusion relax a little. His hands find their way to your hips on reflex, grounding himself in the unfamiliar vantage point. When you eventually break away from his lips, you have to laugh at that half-frown, half-amused smile making your man look adorably confused.

"The hell's this?" he chuckles, glancing down at the stool, and how you're still towering over him with your tits in his face. (He doesn't hate it.) "You trying to pick me up, sweetheart?"

You stroke his prickly cheek with your thumb. "Did it work?"

It's his turn to grin, that devilish Dean grin that triggers a warning shiver down your spine. He gathers you up in his arms and picks you up from the stool, smirking even more at your squeal and the way you cling to his neck.

He carries you off to find that solid table in the War Room, finishing what you started.

Beau Arlen

"Are you gonna come down from there so we can hash this out?" Beau asks.

"No, I don't think so," you reply.

He sighs through his nose. "You really think that's wise, sweetheart?"

Your lips purse to hide your smile. You pause on the third rung of the stepladder, setting your paintbrush back in its bucket. Your husband stands there on the ground floor with his hands on his jean-clad hips, raising expectant brows.

You swipe a bead of sweat from your forehead, pushing your hair back when you adjust your baseball cap. Then you turn toward him. You lean over and rest your hand against the part of the wall that has yet to be painted, right above his head.

You grab his face with one hand and tilt his chin up to kiss you. Your lips swallow up his little sound of surprise, while your sensuous tongue lures him in, breaking down his authoritative resolve.

When you finally pull away, still holding his bearded cheeks between the press of your fingers, you find his slightly flustered face. Maybe even the start of a blush warming his skin. He clears his throat.

"I might be pregnant, but I'm not an invalid," you whisper against his lips, giving him one more kiss. "Now, you can let me paint this nursery in peace, or you can pick up a brush and help me. Your choice, Sheriff."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

The rhythmic pounding, timed with his grunts, a couple lines of sweat drawing down his neck, a fine sheen over every dip of flexing muscle, the lines of his back taut and slick...

This is the real reason you agreed to having a home gym built in the house.

You like watching your man work himself out, getting out his pent-up frustrations on the extra-fortified exercise equipment, instead of on the populace. You're mollified when he sets the barbell on the ground instead of tossing them this time, so the force of over 1,000 pounds doesn't crack the cement underneath the weight-absorbing mats.

Ben catches his breath, running slippery fingers through his damp hair and shoving the strands out of his eyes. He joins you by the dumbbell rack, looking amused at the little 8-pound weights you're using to do arm curls and squats.

"You gonna keep pretending to work out with those little baby doll weights?" he says, eying you in your tight yoga pants and fitted tank-top. He begins to unwind the sports tape from his right hand, first catching the end corner with his teeth. Then his left.

You snort. "Who's pretending? You're the one grunting like a gorilla over there. It's just you and me in here, old man. No need to throw your back out."

He shoots you a narrowed look, especially at that little smirk on your face.

"Oh, yeah? Watch it, sweetheart. This old man might just bend you over his fucking knee, see how many reps you can take," he says.

The smooth depths in his voice make you falter, your knees slightly wobbling on the last squat. Ben smirks. He leans against the wall while he watches you finish your exercise, grabbing your water bottle to refresh his thirst.

When you're done, you draw into his orbit so you can place the dumbbells back on the rack. He's still eyeing you with that lazy arrogance that somehow manages to get you hot and infuriated in equal measure. He always thinks he can get the last fucking word.

You grab the small towel out of his hand, the one he planned to mop up his sweat with, and you step up on the bench beside him. He watches you with some measure of surprise, but he doesn't stop you. Maybe you'll dote on him for a little bit, instead of running your fucking mouth as usual.

Planting your arm above his head, you give him what he wants. You slowly drag the towel across his forehead and down his cheek. But then you grab his chin, making him look up at your half-lidded eyes, and you tilt his head up for a kiss—deep, devouring, thorough.

His big hands grab onto your hips in a familiar iron hold, but his brows furrow. He's frowning when you pull away from his greedy lips. Only then does he truly notice the way you've basically cornered him against the wall, like he's the bitch in the steamy rom-com.

"The fuck is this?" he says gruffly.

You tease his bottom lip with a pointed finger.

"Nothing, sweetheart," you retort. You drop the towel, reach down, and slap his ass for good measure. "Now be a good boy and get me some water, would ya?"

Your smirk irritates him on sight, but it still makes his cock twitch.

His jaw ticks. His brow raises.

You bite your lip, knowing it's over. Or it's just fucking started.

He grabs you up before you can jump off the bench. You yelp and laugh and kick your feet, but he's already hauling you over his shoulder, his long, confident strides taking him out of the gym.

"Ben!" you squeal. Trying to get your balance, your nails bite fruitlessly into his shoulders through his sweaty shirt.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now, sweetheart. Time for the real fucking workout."

Just to hear that little squeal again, he smacks your ass hard enough to sting through your spandex, hard enough to make your pussy clench on nothing, already pulsing, warm and wet. You blush hotly.

Goddamn it.

Just this once, you'll let him get the last word.

Russell Shaw

"Damn it," you mutter.

You watch the nail fall to the ground and roll away from you. You're trying to put up a new picture frame in the bedroom, using your vanity chair as a stepping stool so you can reach.

"Baaabe!" you call out.

"Yeah!" Russell replies.

"Can you help me with this?"

When your boyfriend enters the bedroom, he raises a brow at the way you're leaning heavily against the wall with your ass sticking out. But the frame is perfectly positioned between your hands. A hammer is tucked under your left arm.

"I have this thing right where I want it, but I lost the nail. Think it went under the bed," you explain.

Russell hums and roams his eagle-eyed gaze across the hardwood floor. Eventually he finds the nail hidden under the dark abyss of your bed. He not only gives you the nail, but holds the frame for you while you mark the wall where the nail is going. Then you hammer it in, and you take the frame from Russell, flipping it around so you can hang it.

You adjust your baseball cap higher and smile at your handiwork.

"Perfect!"

Russell smiles too, more in surprise. It's a recent picture, a rare and special night: you, Russell, Dory, and Colter out to dinner together, celebrating the eldest Shaw's birthday. You thought it would be the right moment to mark your boyfriend officially moving in with you, albeit with what little belongings he has.

"You like it?" you ask him.

"Yeah, it's nice," he says. Though he becomes a little contemplative as he crosses his arms.

"What?" you ask.

"Well, maybe we should put it in the living room. Not sure I want my brother and sister watching us, uh, you know. Do our thing," he says, gesturing at the new king-sized bed.

An incredulous snort bursts out from you. "Are you serious?"

"What? Sweetheart, this is where the magic happens. We can't mess with that," Russell says slyly. One of his hands slips up the small of your back.

A giggle bubbles up in your throat. "You know what, you're right. My apologies."

You twist your hat backward and lean your elbow against the wall, just so you can dip down and lure your man into a kiss. Your hand travels across his bearded cheek, then tangles into his hair. His hands move steadily down to squeeze your ass, a short groan catching in his throat.

He grabs you up by the back of your thighs and all but swings you into his arms, startling a yelp out of you.

"Russ!" You cling to his shoulders, quickly wrapping your legs around his waist. "Wait, wait!"

You grab the picture frame and take it off the wall. It'll probably look better in the living room anyway. You manage to lay it safely on the dresser before Russell walks you to the bed.

"Time to break this sucker in," he says with a grin, all to the tune of you laughing when your back hits the plush mattress.

AN: lol this was a fun one! Sorry, I don't write RPF (straight up Jensen Ackles fanfic), but I hope you liked these HCs! 💜

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Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Beau Arlen Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

@kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse

@mostlymarvelgirl @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester

@deans-spinster-witch @sanscas @hobby27 @kaleldobrev @spnwoman

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean

@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @deansbbyx @chernayawidow

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @rizlowwritessortof @cookiechipdough @mrsjenniferwinchester

@fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused

@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2 @winchester-whiskey

[jaredwnch]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ DATING JENSEN ACKLES HEADCANNONS .ᐟ

soft boy energy | leather jacket kisses | “your smile is my home” vibes

✧ protective in that 2000s movie boyfriend kinda way

hand on your thigh while driving his Impala-esque car, sunglasses on, jaw clenched when someone talks to you the wrong way. he won’t say much, but you’ll feel the shift in his energy.

✧ slow mornings in band tees + sleepy voices

you in his oversized “Led Zeppelin” shirt, him flipping eggs while softly humming, the smell of coffee filling the kitchen. he leans in with messy bed hair, kisses your forehead like it’s instinct.

✧ “just wrote this… kinda sounds like you”

he pulls out the guitar when he can’t sleep, quietly strumming chords. it’s not for the world—it’s just for you. soft lyrics, a gravelly voice, and his eyes only on you.

✧ king of subtle PDA

a hand in your back pocket, whispered jokes at parties, resting his chin on your shoulder in long elevator rides. it’s not loud, but it’s constant—like you’re tethered.

✧ film camera memories

grainy pics of you two on the hood of his truck, sunset in the background. polaroids pinned to the wall: blurry kisses, motel mirrors, backstage passes. he keeps one of you in his wallet.

✧ protective of your peace

if anyone stresses you out? he’s shutting it down. “you don’t need that, baby,” he says, pulling you into a hug so tight the world goes quiet. his love is a shelter.

✧ music is his love language

burns you a playlist on an old CD labeled in sharpie: “For when I miss you.” you play it at night and swear you can feel his arms around you.

✧ always smells like warm spice + worn leather

he hugs you and you swear time slows down. his cologne lingers on your clothes for days, and you never want to wash them.

✧ not a social media guy but you’re his whole world

he doesn’t post, doesn’t tweet, but everyone knows. he talks about you like you hung the moon—low and proud. like you’re the most sacred thing he has.

✧ soft eyes, raspy voice, the kind of love that stays

he looks at you like you’re the answer to every prayer he never said out loud. and when he says “I love you,” it’s like a promise carved in oak.

[hrtfilm]

⠀ ⠀⠀ ♡ ⸝⸝ ˕ ก ʔ⠀⠀after show

who. rockstar!jensen x female!reader (afab)

under the euphoric lights, jensen always finds away to make you crave him from afar. and he always gives you something after the show when he does leave you all needy for him. mdni, this contains smut.

it was a regular occurrence jensen would find himself under the comfort of stage lights and the electrifying atmosphere filled with people screaming to grasp at the man’s attention, and even after fifteen years in the music industry, it still gave him a rush of adrenaline. then backstage would be his pretty li’l wife, you, cheering him on enthusiastically from behind the curtain, oh how it was a great life.

jensen had all he needed wrapped around his finger. and really, life was great. he wasn’t living any sorta middle class or lower class life, he poured his heart and soul into working on music, and he obtained a beautiful pretty “thang” as he would say with a slight drawl. there were little arguments in the relationship he had formed with you. and all was perfect, besides the fanbase (they can get aggressive at times—but other then that they respected the boundaries, which was probably because most of them were middle aged fangirls from his supernatural era, then of course the large handful of younger women, like yourself who have underlying daddy issues that don’t get discussed).

when he was on stage, his brain would circuit to one part; singing. and playing his guitar, no doubt his mind didn’t wonder to his wife who was back stage—because how could he forget about you, you were the person who completed his spark and made a fire of burning passion for each other.

even after words the show was over—he found himself searching for one thing as he eagerly ripped out his ear piece from his ear, you. and you searched for him when the backstage seemed contain a lot more people then before. but when you did see the man of your dreams, you ran over to him; no hesitation. “i missed you.” you exclaimed in jensen’s arms, not wanting to let go of the hug you pulled him into.

you and jensen had always been tied to the hip after you got married, there wasn’t anywhere he would go where you couldn’t been seen, and vice versa. “missed you too.” the words fell from his lips breathlessly, his body drenched in sweat from the continuous moving around, plus the stage light that emitted harsh rays of heat. which in all reality, you sound the sweat on his body all the much hotter as it dripped from his hair. “c’mon.” he muttered loosely, taking your hand. it was a simple gesture to guide you too his dressing room, but nonetheless had your stomach doing back flips.

as you entered the dressing room, it was bland, which was given since he didn’t actually own the place, he just rented it out for his show. jensen pressed a kiss too your lips, his hand going down to place a steady hand on your hips, “god, you dressed out all f’me, didn’t you baby?” he then proceeded too press urgent, almost desperate kisses against your neck. “let me get changed first, alright baby?” jensen’s hands went astray from your his—and you sat down on the couch they had installed inside of the dressing room.

you nodded, compliant with his comment. your eyes following his every movement as he peeled off the black cotton material tank top. “you looked s’good on stage today, jensen.” you uttered under your breath—merely speaking the truth of what a multitude of women thought tonight.

meticulously he turned around (shirtless, and as hot as ever) “you think, baby?” he whispered, low and sultry. you nodded, sitting up from your position on the couch, your hand going to rest on his stomach. and you could feel the muscles, of course you could. they where staring right at you, like they were made just for you to caress, and feel all up on. “‘ve been workin’ on ‘em, jus’ for you—my pretty baby.” you chewed on your bottom lip (a tell told sign the way he was speaking to you was getting you worked up, like he always did. because there wasn’t anything the man couldn’t do).

“you like them?” referring back to his abs, “huh, mrs. ackles?”

you nodded, “i like them.”

“good, i’m glad.” he mused, “almost had me worried with how slow you were taking to answer, almost like your brain had a li’l short circuit there, didn’t ya?” you stifled a soft laugh as the man pulled you of the couch, lifting you to sit on the desk where the pretty little mirror highlighted every feature of your back. jensen kissed along your neck, down to your collarbone. “you take your birth control, hon?” he muttered. your stomach shouldn’ve came out your ass at that moment because your stomach did a somersault.

when you nodded, “may i?” jensen muttered, gesticulating towards your button up blouse, oh so proper you where. his fingers worked skillfully on the buttons, his hand grazing your chest ever bit more as he went lower, lower and lower. your body ached with the need for jensen’s touch—but here he was taking his sweet time. in no rush, because that was the life he lived,

“yes, yes—” you nodded, “anything.” you sounded breathless, and yet you hadn’t even done anything with jensen yet; but oh, how that must’ve been his little party trick to be so breath taking.

jensen stopped for a brief moment, to test the waters (in which, work his hand inside of your pants). you sucked in a breath as two of jensen’s fingers—thick, and long, pushed past your tight barrier. “god your soaked, ‘nd it’s all f’me.” he said smugly, working his fingers, slowly. it was a constant, never wavering momentum as he pushed his fingers inn, out, in out, in, and out. the thrusts of his fingers finding a nice and slow pace. your body ached for a sweet, and quick release. but jensen, oh how he was gonna make you work to deserve such thing.

“needa come, don’tcha, baby.” he said teasingly, feeling your gummy walls clench around his digits. “shit, y’so tight—” jensen let out a groan of appreciation.

“ple— please-” you sputtered, in resemblance to a car right before it shuts off, inevitability arching your back into his touch. you watched jensen unzip his pants (using his free hand, but then decided to leave you without his digits). you whined of emptiness, “baby—”

which was cut off by jensen shushing you. “you think ‘m down with you, ‘cause ‘m not. that was just a warm up.” he held his member in his hand, merely stroking it in his hand, the tip dabbled with pre-come. you let out a soft gasp of fondness as he pulled down your pants, leaving you in nothing but soaked cotton underwear. “god,” he said breathlessly, his free hand tracing the wet splotch on your underwear—in which, had your stomach doing somersaults with every soft touch with his calloused finger. “s’wet.” the room was indulged with heavy breathing, and your neediness only a testament within the room. “‘nd that’s all f’me. all of it.” “lift up, jus’ a li’l” jensen murmured, tapping at your hips so you’d be free of the suffocating barrier of your clit and his fingers.

once your underwear had been discarded next to his clothes, he skillful spread your thighs further apart, to get a real nice view of your pretty little cunt (that was desperate for jensen). a soft low hiss left jensen’s lip, as his fingers traced your clit, your stomach clenching in a desperate need you’d tried conceal while watching him perform. in a rough push past your tight entrance, jensen’s member made a gasp leave your lips, arching into him for the second time. your cunt clenched around the man, practically sucking him in whole. “needy girl, ain’tcha? you really that desperate for my cock.” he murmured smugly while pushing past your gummy walls.

“jen— jensen!” your mind had been polluted with the thought of jensen being on top of you, ramming his long girth into without a care in the world. no matter who went by that dressing room; jensen wanted you to know who ‘belonged’ to. and in every way, it was him. all day everyday, you were his. his rough thrusts had you blurring the lines of reality while grinding your hips against his for extra friction

“c’mon sweetgirl—” jensen gritted as he uttered the words from between his teeth, using his hands to force your hips back towards the couch. “y’cannot be that damn needy now, can you?” the look of your face scrunched up, and the way your beautiful bottom lips sucked him greedily had, and will be forever burned into his retinas, because mentally he’d already pressed save.