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goticnerdwholikespink · 9 months

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Throne - Part 2

(Warnings: blood play, choking, sex, etc.)

"You are mine."

It's not a question, but you see no point in correcting him. After all... he's right, isn't he? This has been brewing between the two of you for a while now.

You just never expected it to come out like this.

"Okay, Eric."

You nod, once, and lean into the hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed- only to immediately snap open again as you ask, "But are you mine?"

His eyes flick between yours, as if he's gauging your sincerity- and a split-second later, you're straddling his lap on the throne.

"Yours," he confirms, holding your gaze as he tugs back the sleeve covering his wrist and tears into the skin.

You swallow thickly, knowing all too well what this means.

He offers his wrist to you without hesitation, and you respond in kind, tilting your head and sweeping your hair back from your neck, offering yourself to him.

Eric leans forward, and so do you, holding his gaze as your lips close around the wound. At the same time, his free hand comes up to grip the nape of your neck, and a moment later you feel his fangs sink into your skin.

Eric's eyes roll back into his head as he tastes you, drinks from you... But you barely notice this, or the twinge of pain that precedes it; your tastebuds are dancing, your heartbeat singing in your ears, as you drink from him.

You're now acutely aware of every inch of Eric pressed against you, and you rock your hips, grinding against the hardness you can feel between your legs. Eric's answering growl rumbles through you, his fingers squeezing your neck...

Then he shifts you yet again.

Now you're sitting on the throne, with Eric kneeling between your legs, your neck miraculously healed- but you barely have time to process any of this before he buries his fangs into the flesh of your thigh.

You arch your back, threading your fingers through his hair, as dizzying pleasure races through your veins, making you throb with need.

He pulls back too soon, but you get the feeling he drank more than he should have as he glances up at you, a flicker of concern in his eyes- which gradually dissolves into that look again: the tenderness you caught a glimpse of during your impromptu roleplay.

"Delicious," Eric murmurs, making a show of licking his lips. He uses the last trickle of blood from his wrist to close the puncture wounds left in your thigh, swirling two fingers against your skin; but they don't stop there, trailing down to rub your wet slit through your panties. You expect him to tease you, or to rip them off of you, but he merely tugs them down your legs and tosses them into a distant corner of the room.

"I feel like I'm at a buffet," he muses, hooking your calves over his shoulders and holding your gaze as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. "But is it all-you-can-eat?"

Without giving you a chance to think of something witty in response, his mouth is upon you, first licking, laving, spreading your folds, then parting them with his tongue, then delving inside, alternating between dipping quickly in and out, swirling and sucking. His fingers knead your thighs as you buck against his mouth, until, all too soon, you come undone on his tongue.

But even then Eric doesn't stop lapping at your wetness until you tug desperately at his hair, needing him to stop, your body shuddering with every minute brush of his lips against your oversensitive folds.

"Delicious," he murmurs again, drawing back and nipping playfully at the hand tangled in his hair.

Maybe it's his blood, redoubling your libido, but even as you shudder with overstimulation, you need more- you need him.

You tug plaintively at his shirt, and he strips it off, smirking as your eyes rove over the newly exposed skin. Of course, he can feel your need through the blood bond, fanning the flames of his own arousal, but he waits for you to articulate what you want, leaning back on his haunches to admire how debauched you look, imagining the various ways he might have you, here, on his throne...

"Eric..."

Your fingers trace his chest, following the sculpted lines of his stomach down to his belt buckle, and lower still, until you're gripping his hard length through the fabric of his trousers.

You can feel his gaze burning into you, but you're not sure what to say- you're not sure what you want, except...

"Eric..." you repeat, glancing up at him through your eyelashes, and he whispers your name back at you, inquiringly, teasingly, cocking his head to the side.

Oh, so that's how it's going to be?

You squeeze harder, and watch as Eric bites his lip in response- but he still doesn't budge, so you lean forward and crash your lips against his.

Eric is only too happy to oblige, cupping your face, pressing forward between your thighs, parting his lips so that you can taste yourself on his tongue, mingled with the taste of him... until you pull back, breathless with need.

"I want to ride you."

The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. It's not a request you'd normally make, but suddenly it's all you can think about.

Eric's hard length parting your oversensitive folds... His fingers digging into your hips, helping you to keep a steady rhythm, while you rake your nails down his chest, tracing the curve of his lower lip with your thumb as his mouth falls open in pleasure...

The images that race through your mind race through Eric's by extension, transmitted through the blood bond as pure sensation; ghosts of the imaginings to which your body is responding.

And Eric doesn't hesitate to make them reality.

Once again, your positions are abruptly reversed. Now Eric is naked on the throne, and you are kneeling before him.

He leans back, settling languidly into the throne, and watches you strip off your dress and bra, before taking his cock into your mouth, as deep as you can manage, making up for what you can't handle with your closed fist.

The fingers of his left hand come to rest on the back of your head, threading through your hair, while his right traces your exposed skin, following the line of your neck and shoulders, admiring the faint bluish mark that his fangs left behind.

But Eric's composure quickly slips as you continue to suck and lick at his cock, one hand falling to rest on his own muscled thigh, clenching and unclenching, while his other occasionally tugs at your hair. You adjust your movements to match these gestures and the hitches in his breath, and don't stop until every inch of him is dripping with your saliva.

Then you straddle him, pressing the tip of his cock against your dripping folds, still sensitive from his tongue, and hold yourself there, steadying your breathing, feeling the tip of his cock throb against your entrance...

Eric's fingers grip your hips like a vice, and at your nod he starts guiding you down, inch by inch- but he stops every time your eyes flutter closed, only letting you take in more of him when you're holding his gaze.

Fuck.

Such is the sum of both your thoughts- sinful expletives, sprinkled with each other's names- as Eric fills you and you start to move, up and down, up and down...

The friction is too delicious, and you're already close- it's not long before Eric has to take over, keeping your pace steady as you writhe for him in pleasure, your insides spasming around his cock.

It's too much, but Eric doesn't stop, lifting you up and sliding you down his length, and kissing your breasts, shoulders, cheeks- every inch of you he can reach- while you ride out your orgasm.

But the moment you come down from your high, Eric spins you around and starts bottoming out at his pace, one hand threading through your hair, tipping your head to the side and pulling you flush against his chest. His other hand starts by squeezing your neck- not too tight, but just long enough to leave you gasping for air- then moves on to cupping your breasts, toying with each nipple in turn, before finally sliding down to rub your clit in tight, fast circles, ruthlessly bringing you toward the brink of another orgasm.

That's when you hear the tell-tale click of Eric's fangs dropping- but this time, when he buries them in your neck, you feel only pleasure, and the sudden spike is enough to push the both of you over the edge.

You feel a flood of warmth in your lower belly, a trickle of warmth down your neck, Eric's cock pulsing inside of you...

You slump forward, but Eric catches you, and lifts you slowly, deliciously off of his cock, which rebounds against his abs with a wet slap, still hard and slick with your combined fluids.

He sets you down on his thigh, draping your legs over the armrest, and noses at your cheek until you look at him.

When you do, Eric murmurs your name before kissing you, tenderly, softly, his fingers gently tracing the curves of your body, as if to ingrain them in his memory.

Then he presses his lips to your forehead, tucks your head under his chin, and simply holds you against his chest in a gentle embrace, listening to your heartbeat.

*******************************************

You're not sure how long you lie there, half-asleep and utterly spent, before you feel Eric turn to glance at the wall behind the bar.

A moment later, he asks, "Can you walk?"

You mumble incoherently and shift against his chest, gripping his wrist as if to hold him in place. With any luck, you'll never have to move again.

Of course, there's no hope of that. Eric chuckles and removes your fingers with ease, threading them through his own and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

"I'll take that as a 'no'."

There is a pause, just long enough to lull you back to the brink of sleep, so that Eric's amused voice seems to reach you from miles away.

"The thing is... we open in five minutes."

That wakes you up. You jolt upright- only to find yourself sitting on the throne alone, still fully naked, with Eric now kneeling on the floor before you, smartly dressed and casually slicking back his hair.

"Is this how you intend to greet your subjects, my lady?" he asks, in that same subservient tone from before, but with a mocking smirk tugging at his lips. "Or do you need help getting dressed?"

There's no time for a witty retort, or to search for your panties, as you hear the door to Fangtasia rattle. You stumble to your feet with an undignified yelp and run for Eric's office, scooping up your dress and bra as you go and slamming the door behind you.

A moment later, you hear Pam's muffled voice call out, "Eric? Are you done in there yet? People are lining up!"

Mortified, you duck down and frantically pull on your clothes, mentally cursing the blond vampire- make that your blond vampire- as he chuckles to himself and unlocks the door, before taking his seat on the throne.

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goticnerdwholikespink · 9 months

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𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗦 (𝗦𝗢 𝗗𝗢 𝗜)

KINKTOBER ACT II, eric northman x fem!reader

summary: 2.7k

“You smell fucking amazing,” he groans and his teeth drag against your pulse point. Before you can make any sort of comment on that, you feel his teeth puncture into your skin just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. His incredibly long and devastatingly thick fingers that are already stretching you out as they slowly thrust in.

or the one where eric has a specific taste for blood. yours.

warnings: not beta’d, smut, significant age gap (eric is like 1000, r is early 20s), dub-con, mind control on the low, blood drinking, high sex (eric's blood/v), smoking

masterlist | taglist | kinktober

When vampires had first come out of the coffin, you’d been barely above the age of seventeen, and their integration into the mainstream had been a whirlwind you’d been utterly unprepared for. Being from the south, your parents had instilled a deep sense of distrust in your fanged counterparts. Or, in your own words, fear.

Your parents had nearly tried to keep you out of college because of it, claiming you’d be much safer here at home, but you’d nipped that in the bud fairly quickly. Still, that didn’t mean you were going to let it slip to them where you were going on your evenings spent at home over the summer. All they needed to know is that you’d be home in the morning.

Your friends had been begging you to go to this bar across town with them for ages. They’d been going for years, but, being the only one in the group not willing to get a fake ID, you’d been left out of all the fun. Now, though, that you were over the legal drinking age, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out seeing as your friends seemed to like it so much. Or, as you came to find out, seeing as they apparently liked the owner so much.

“You’re gonna freak when you see him,” Rachel says, looking over at you from the driver’s seat. You’d been friends with Rachel for forever, longer than you can remember. She’d gone off to school somewhere in the northeast–a liberal arts college with less than two thousand total students–and it’d been ages since you’d last seen her.

“I don’t get what’s so special about him?”

“Are you kidding me?” Rachel squeaks. “About Eric fucking Northman?”

Anyone who’d been west of Baton Rouge knew the name Eric Northman. It was undeniable. Someone could whisper the name in a corner of a packed ballroom, and a hush would fall over the crowd.

And, yet, somehow, despite living in Shreveport since your conception, it hadn’t crossed your path.

“Yeah?” you drawl. “He’s probably just some guy.”

“Some guy,” Gina scoffs.

“He’s quite literally the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen,” she says as she fiddles with her engagement ring. “He’s a fucking god.”

“Sure,” you say, rolling your eyes.

It isn’t much longer before you’re pulling into a shady parking lot behind a vacant liquor store. There’s a couple other cars in the lot, mostly what your father would call shit-boxes that have either been sewn together with duct tape or have bumpers that have been left to drag the ground. Slamming the passenger door shut, you reach into the pocket of your jacket to take out the pack of cigarettes, stamping one on your bottom lip as you dig further in the pocket to find your lighter.

Your friends have already walked across the lot to step into line when you finally get a light, shoving your materials back into your jacket as you jog over to where they are at the back of the, thankfully, fast-moving line.

“Really?” Rachel asks.

“Just be glad I didn’t do it in the car, okay.” You offer a squint of your eyes in a pseudo smile.

“Whatever,” she sighs.

The bouncer lets the three men in biker jackets ahead of you in and stops to examine you. She seems to recognize your friends and nods at them to follow the men, only to stick a manicured hand out in front of your chest as soon as you take a step.

“I’m with them,” you huff, tapping the ashes out of your cigarette.

“Sorry, sweetie. I’m gonna need to see some ID,” she drawls. The sweetie comes out in a sharp bite that has you taking a step away from her outstretched arm. She grabs the butt from between your lips and stamps it out beneath her stiletto’d heel.

“Fine,” you say. Digging in the other pocket of your jacket, you grab your wallet and hand over your driver's license. You’re thankful you’d just recently gotten your ID updated and have the horizontal one now, or you’re sure she would’ve kept you back. Where, you’re also sure, your friends would have left you to sit for the rest of the night.

“Have a good night,” she says, handing it back to you and allowing you to step into the crimson bar. As soon as you’re through the door, you dig your pack out and light a new cigarette. Bitch.

Your eyes gravitate toward the stage. A very large throne sits to the side of it, flanked by two overgrown men with their eyes scanning the small dance floor at the foot of the stage. The man in the throne is bigger. Much bigger. Large to the point that he dwarfs the chair you think would swallow you whole. You watch as he sits up, spine straightening as he looks the crowd over.

You don’t think anything of it until his gaze falls on you. He seems to smile, and it’s then that you see the sharp canines extending out of his gums.

You suppose coming to a vampire bar should’ve made you mentally prepare to come into contact with a vampire or two.

The man on the throne appears before you in an instant, fangs retracted as he gives you a softer smile than he’d had previously. It unnerves you, still, with the way his eyes seem glazed over and his body hovers over yours. You glance back at the stage, eyes flickering nervously back and forth as if it’d just been a trick of the lights and you’d catch him lounging there again if you blinked hard enough.

“You are… a pretty thing, aren’t you,” he says, voice growling in a register lower than you’d been expecting. It sends a shiver down your spine. He’s tall. Frighteningly, inhumanly tall in a way that has you cowering beneath him. Even seeing him on the stage before, it’s much more shocking up close. “It’s a shame you feel the need to taint it with that.”

He gestures to the stick between your lips with a flippant gesture, plucking it from your mouth to stamp it beneath his boot. What’s with everyone stealing your cigarettes tonight?

“Hey-”

“Still,” he leans down until his nose is inches away from your jaw and inhales. You don’t have the time to push him back before he’s returned to his full height.

“Who the fuck are you?” you ask, attempting to take a step back only to bump into one of the bustling–and fairly sweaty–bodies behind you. The man raises his brow in surprise.

“My, my,” he says. “Coming all the way out to my little bar and you treat me this way?”

“Eric,” you exhale. Your friends were right. He’s beautiful.

“And you are?” You give him your name in a huff.

“Follow me,” he says.

“I don’t know-” His fingers come up beneath your chin to tilt your face so that you’re like him in the eye. Something swirls within them, something you can’t place. You do your best to ignore the dull throb emanating beneath your dress.

“Follow me.”

Your legs seem to move of their own accord, hand reaching up to take his as he leads you across the dingy floor towards a door beside the bar. You dodge bodies crumpled together between tables and chairs and slink behind him as he nods at a bouncer guarding the door. Once it’s open, he gestures for you to enter first.

It’s a small office looking room. Various pictures and files line the walls and every surface is drowned in boxes and other small objects. You don’t have the time to get a good look at any of them, though, before Eric is spinning you to face him once again.

You can see the way his lips twitch as you meet his gaze, nostrils flared. His hand lands on your shoulder, dragging down the side of your arm as goosebumps sprout in its wake. You want to blame it on the fact that he’s freezing, on the fact that he’s got fangs. On the fact that he owns this whole bar and now you’re standing in his office with the door locked. Not on the fact that he’s probably got decades of experience. Or, god forbid, centuries.

“Why did you bring me here?” you ask. It comes out in a whisper, voice hoarse from swallowing hard. Breath hitching, your knees do their best not to buckle as Eric steps into you, forcing you back until your ass hits the edge of his desk. His leg comes to press between your thighs. With a nudge, his knee would be pressing directly against you, and you’re thankful he gives you the space. You inch up the desk until you’re halfway sitting on it. There’s no reason for you to be as hot as you are right now, and less of a reason for him to know about it so soon. Honestly, he can probably smell it on you.

“Why do you think I brought you back here?” he asks, hands falling against your thighs. There’s no pressure, just their presence.

“I don’t fuck random guys in bars,” you say.

He stalls, hands crawling up to rest on your hips.

“I’m the owner.”

“So I was right,” you say. “You lured me back here just to fuck me.”

He hums. You can’t tell if it's in agreement. His knee presses into you fully and you hope he chooses not to comment on how you’re pulsating against it.

“Would you like that?” he asks. He brings his hands down again, this time to the hem of your dress. He begins to push up. Slowly. Oh, so slow, you barely register it until it’s bunched up at the tops of your thighs. You’re not sure why you nod. You think if asked you at a different time, a second before or after, you would have shaken your head and allowed him to lead you back out to the patrons, to your two friends who would lose their minds if they knew where you were right now.

His mouth finds yours as he pushes your dress the rest of the way up. You can feel the way you’re leaving a damp spot against his pants and try not to whimper as he applies more pressure with his knee. You don’t succeed in that venture. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It’s not nearly as rough as you had expected it to be, but it’s far from soft. His tongue is in your mouth, licking at the flats of your teeth. His fingers dig into your skin as he thumbs at the seam of your panties, pressing it to the side enough to gather the wetness coating your slit and drag it up to your clit. Your hips jump against him.

He disconnects your lips to trail his kisses down the dies of your face and down your neck. Pulling back, he draws your eyes up to look, and the dark swirl from earlier returns. “Don’t scream,” he says. “Unless it’s my name.”

Before he re-attaches himself to your neck, you watch as his fangs click out, and you feel the cold rod of fear as it slides down your spine.

“Eric,” you squeal. You’re already dizzy, his tongue laving at the skin of your neck. Finally, he pulls back and you feel seconds away from passing out. His fingers are still inside of you, massaging your walls. His free hand comes up to his mouth, and you watch as his fangs pierce the skin there and he’s holding his bloody palm up to your mouth.

“Drink,” he says. You oblige and suddenly you’re dizzy in an entirely different way. Every touch feels heightened, every item in the room seems to glow, and Eric truly, honestly, looks like a fucking god. The open wound on your neck stops aching and you swear you feel the holes close up.

“Eric, please,” you whine. He tugs your panties down first, balling them up in his fist and tossing them somewhere behind his desk. Then his belt comes undone and he’s yanking his pants down just enough to pull his cock out of the confines. And if you thought his fingers were big before.

“That’s not gonna fucking fit,” you gasp. He jerks himself until he’s fully hard.

“Trust me, sweetheart. It will,” he says as he notches himself against your entrance.

“No, I swear, you’re gonna rip me in half!” “Trying hard not to do that, already,” he says. He pushes in with one solid thrust. Even only halfway in, you can feel him in your throat. “Feel even better than you taste.”

Your ankles link around his back and your feet dig into his ass in an attempt to get him to move, to push into you until you can feel his pelvis against yours. He does. One thrust, then an agonizing pull back before he slams back in.

Every part of you trembles as his pace picks up.

“Oh my god? Oh my god,” you squeak.

“Just me,” he quips and his head falls back. He’s fucking you at a superhuman speed, hips snapping into yours with so much force you think he’s close to bruising your cervix. And still. It feels good. It feels so fucking good. Every touch leaves you tingling and you think you’re going to explode with his hand finding your clit again. He pushes your legs open wider, allowing him to press into you further.

You’ve never been this wet in your life. Not with your vibrator, not with any of your boyfriends, not even with the one you swore you were in love with when you were a sophomore in college. The squelch of his cock driving into you rings in your ears and you don’t think you’ll ever forget the sound. A coil within you begins to wind tight, your body on the precipice of turning into jelly in Eric’s hold.

“I want you to cum for me, sweetheart,” he growls and it’s enough to send you flying. You clench around him, walls fluttering and throbbing as you feel his dick twitch in you.

As soon as you’ve regained your consciousness enough to offer him a weak smile, he’s pulling out of you and spinning you around so that the front of your hips are against the desk. He thrusts into you swiftly once more, never once faltering from the ruinous pace he’d started up previously. Your back arches into the desk. Your pussy feels raw, overstimulated, melting into the pleasure he’s driving into you. Another orgasm is sure to follow. And quickly.

“You are mine, whether you agree to it or not,” he growls. His thrusts begin to grow sloppy, cock twitching with every pump of his hips. With a final push in, he cums and offers you the first bit of warmth he’s been able to give you all night. You fall down the same rabbit hole moments later. Your entire body twitches as you do and you can barely feel anything as he pulls out of you.

He gives you a minute to catch your breath, to gather yourself and spin around to face him as you tug your dress back down your thighs. You’re panting, still, as he wipes the semi-dried blood off of your neck and brings it up to his lips to lick clean.

“No more cigarettes,” he says. “I can’t wait to see how you taste when you’re… pure.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” you say.

“You will.”

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll be seeing you.”

He’s gone before you can ask what he means by that.

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goticnerdwholikespink · 10 months

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Girls Night

Summary: Jensen’s girlfriend comes home a bit drunk after a girls night and tries to seduce him.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff, implied sexy times to come.

Words: 0.7k

A/N: I’m so proud that I set out to drabble and succeeded! 🥳 I’m a wordy bitch, so usually, when I set out to drabble, I fail epically 😅 All mistakes are my own.

Consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite or leaving a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM. 💖

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

“It’s been far too long since we last did this!” you declare, slamming another empty shot glass onto the wooden table.

“I know! And we say this every time, but we shouldn’t leave it so long next time,” Fiona shivers violently at the aftertaste of the tequila.

“Well,” Robin smirks, “if y’all put hoes before bros every now and then, we’d see each other a lot more often!”

“Excuse you,” you feign outrage. “If I remember right, you,” you point your finger for good measure, “are the one who didn’t come last time so you could ‘Netflix and Chill’ with Scott. I hadn’t seen Jensen in six weeks, and I came!”

“Oh, I came, alright!” Robin grins when you and your closest friends descend into laughter.

The familiar intro of Lionel Richie’s “Dancing on the Ceiling” begins, and you and the girls quickly make your way onto the dance floor.

You spend the rest of the night cutting your best moves, singing at the top of your lungs and drinking tequila.

Walking into the hallway with your heels in your hand, you try to be as quiet as possible. Jensen has been working hard at the brewery and had been learning a script for a movie that starts shooting next week, so you knew he was likely sleeping at this late hour.

You carefully hold onto the handrail and climb the stairs, shushing your shoes every time the heel hits the wooden rail.

Once at the top of the stairs, you frown when you see the bedroom light still on. You walk with heavy feet towards the door, peeking your head through the gap.

“Hey, baby,” Jensen smiles as he looks up at you. “Did you have a good time?”

“It was the best! We drank and talked and danced and drank. Did I already say that part? I think I already said that part. Anyway, we danced and sang. My throat will hurt tomorrow,” you stumble over to the bathroom and drop your shoes haphazardly on the floor. “But it was worth it,” you giggle.

“I’m glad,” Jensen grins. He always says you’re adorable when you’re drunk. Always so happy and carefree.

“What are you doing still up?” you ask.

“Gotta learn this script, baby. I’ve put it off too long,” he rubs at his tired eyes and smiles wide as you leave the bathroom in your underwear. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

You climb on the bed—surprisingly gracefully, given your drunken state—and crawl up Jensen’s body. Straddling his waist, you run your hands under his shirt and up his stomach and grin as you feel his muscles twitch under your touch.

“Been thinking about you all night, Jensen. How much I wanted to be here with you, how you make me feel. I want you so bad, baby.”

“As much as I wanna say yes, baby girl, you’re too drunk,” Jensen says as his hands slide up your thighs.

“I’m not that drunk,” you pout more than complain.

“Even so, I think it’s best we just cuddle,” Jensen soothes.

“Ugh, fine!” you huff, throwing yourself off his lap and onto the bed. “But I want your A-game tomorrow!”

“When have I ever not brought my A-game?” Jensen laughs as you pull at the bed covers and ungracefully try to get into bed.

“Uhm, when I wore that dress to the 300th episode party? You barely lasted ten seconds!” you laugh.

“Excuse me! You looked really fucking hot that night! You knew I’d been ready for you since you’d stepped out of the hotel bathroom wearing that thing! And I made it up to you!”

“Yeah, you did!” you giggle. “Alright,” you say as you finally tuck yourself under the duvet. “What about the thirty second fumble on Jared’s boat?”

“Really? You really want me to explain to you how incredibly sexy it was rubbing sun tan lotion all over you and the idea that anyone could have seen me fucking you that day?”

“Okay, I’ll give you that one too,” you yawn and lie down, shuffling into his side and twisting your legs around his. “Just promise me you’ll bring you’re A-game in the morning.”

Snuggling further into him, you lay your head on his chest and your hand on his collarbone. Jensen wraps an arm around your shoulders and pushes the script he was reading to the floor.

“I promise. Good night, baby, I love you,” he chuckles softly as the heavy breathing tells him you’ve fallen asleep.

“Not that drunk, my ass!” he whispers as he kisses your head and turns out the bedside lamp.

Tags: @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

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goticnerdwholikespink · 1 year

Photo

Y/N and the SPN cast (Jensen x reader centric) on social media

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MASTERLIST

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goticnerdwholikespink · 1 year

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Hello Gorgeous! If you're feeling up to it, would you mind telling us about how Jensen Ross Ackles is so hot that he can't even stop touching himself? 😈😘

Not Normal

Jensen Ackles x Reader

440 Words ~ NSFW

He can’t stop. God, he can’t stop. He was just scrolling through his Insta looking for something to show Jeff and god damnit…

How’d he get so big like that? A year ago seemed like forever. He vaguely remembered the feel of those huge shoulders… those giant arms… that… chest.

God, his dick is so fucking hard right now. Is this normal? It’s crazy to be so fucking turned on by yourself- oh fuck-

Jensen sets his phone down on the sink, photo still up. He checks the bathroom door, holds his breath for a moment- listening. Everyone’s down the hall in the livingroom, but he can’t… can’t get himself to calm down.

One hand clinging to the sink, he leans over, staring at the photo. Fuck, he hated the beard but… it felt so good to work out so hard… to become something else…

Jensen bit his lip hard and slipped his right hand down into his pants. He closed his eyes and remembered the feel of it last year- alone in quarantine- hours lifting weights and working out and-

“Fuck…”

His cock was stiff as steel and he stroked himself quickly. He really shouldn’t be so fucking hot… What the hell was going on?

“Yes. Fuck. Fuck.”

His breath came out in clipped moans that he struggled to bite back, but it was too much too fast. His stomach tensed and felt that golden moment looming.

“Fuck!”

A knock on the door nearly killed him. Jensen jumped back, falling into the shower door and pulling his hand from his pants.

“Jen? You OK?”

Y/N’s voice made him cringe with embarrassment.

“Y-yeah. Good. All is- uh- I’m fine.”

He watched in horror as the doorknob turned. Fuck, I didn’t lock it.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Y/N pushed at the door and stuck her head through, checking on him. “I heard groaning- oh…”

Back upright, Jensen stood in the middle of the bathroom, his jeans slung down around his thighs, boxers tented and askew. His face was redder than her lipstick and Y/N’s jaw dropped.

“Wow.”

Jensen sucked in a heavy breath and his shoulders rose as he tried to hide away. “I-”

Y/N shut the door behind her and bit her lip, looking him over. A sparkle hit her eye and Jensen watched in utterly blissful amazement as she sank to her knees at his feet.

“W-what’re you d-doing?” he stammered, heart pounding in his chest.

Delicate finger tugged at his boxers and Y/N smiled up at him. “If you needed some help,” she whispered, dragging his cock from the cotton, “you shoulda asked…”

Fuck.

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goticnerdwholikespink · 1 year

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Imagine Michael flirting with you, very intrigued when he sees you in Dean’s memories and figures out the hunter loves you. Only to end up admitting you are what he really wants too.

“D-Dean?” you breathed out shakily once the door opened, the sight before you knocking all air out of your lungs. At the sound of the name the corners of his lips only rose up more, satisfaction showing through.

“That surprised to see me?” he tilted his head to the side, the smirk not looking anywhere like Dean’s.

He didn’t even try hard to mask his expression or acts to be anywhere near that of Dean Winchester’s. It was clear that you had no idea of what had happened and given the way you looked at the man, practically melting when he smiled at you, he knew that you weren’t going to question it. It wouldn’t stop to surprise Michael just what humans did out of pure love. And yours for the hunter was indeed something unique.

“N-no, I-” you shook your head, your surprise still evident as you looked at him up and down “I just didn’t expect to see you at my door looking… like this. Not- not that you look bad, oh no. It’s nowhere near bad. You’re… you look great.” you whispered a bit shyly, the man dressed in a suit made your knees go weak. You just pushed the door open wider and motioned for him “Come on in.”

Continuar lendo

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goticnerdwholikespink · 1 year

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Michael!Dean: Dean was resisting me. He was too attached to you, to all of you. *He took a sip of whiskey that was on the table, and then looked at you* He was too attached to you, specifically.

Y/N: Me?

Michael!Dean: Yeah you.

Y/N: Why me?

Michael!Dean: *He looked at you, looking slightly shocked* Oh. You don’t know do you?

Y/N: I don’t know what? *You asked confused*

Michael!Dean: Dean is your soulmate.

Y/N: I’m sorry. My what?

Michael!Dean: Your soulmate. I’m surprised you didn’t know. He’s known for…How long have you known him? Six years? Yeah. He’s known for about five.

Y/N: That Sonofabitch. Why didn’t he tell me?

Michael!Dean: He thought he was protecting you. But…Boy was he wrong.

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goticnerdwholikespink · 1 year

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Happy Anniversary

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Dean celebrate your 18-year wedding anniversary

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Cursing (6x), Fluff

Authors Note: Happy 18th Anniversary to Supernatural which aired on September 13, 2005! In honor of that, here’s a cute little AU where reader and Dean celebrate their 18th wedding anniversary | Neither one of them are hunters | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

March 2000 – A frat house in Lawrence, Kansas

You stood leaning up against the living room wall, a red solo cup in your hand filled with a liquid that was some kind of alcohol mixture (you were told it was fruit punch and vodka – but you couldn’t be 100% sure cause it didn’t taste like either to you). You felt incredibly hot and sweaty despite the tank top and short shorts that you were wearing; the amount of people packed into each room was claustrophobic to you – and you weren’t someone where something like that normally bothered you.

Your roommate (the one that dragged you here saying that it would be fun) was nowhere in sight. This was your roommate’s idea of fun – not yours, this was far from your idea of fun. You didn’t mind being social if you had to be, but all you wanted to do was just be in bed right now watching some TV eating a giant bowl of cereal; your usual dinner of choice when you were too lazy to actually cook anything (you absolutely loved having breakfast for dinner – despite what your roommate thought).

As you stood against the wall thinking of things you much rather be doing, you almost didn’t notice a man coming to stand next to you, he too with a red solo cup. You turned to look at him briefly, flashing him an acknowledging smile so you didn’t have to talk to him – despite him being a rather attractive man. You turned again to face the crowd and took a sip out of your cup. The sound of a man’s voice caught your attention, but you had no idea what he said due to how obnoxiously loud it was. “Did you say something?” You practically yelled to the man next to you – who for some reason was wearing a heavy ass leather jacket that looked obviously too big on him. “And why are you wearing a heavy ass leather jacket in here? I’m wearing a tank top and shorts and I’m still fucking hot.”

A smirk formed on his lips. You really are fucking hot, Dean thought to himself. “I said,” he leaned in close to your ear so he wouldn’t be trying to yell over the music and the crowd, “What’s up.” He then leaned back and took a sip out of his own cup which seemed to be a much darker liquid compared to what you were drinking. Whiskey maybe? You didn’t really know any college students who drank whiskey. You guessed this guy did though.

“Oh!” You said, quietly laughing to yourself. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

“It’s alright. It’s hard to hear anything given how quiet it is in here.” He joked.

“Oh definitely.” You joked back. “To answer your question though, not much. I uh, I didn’t want to come.” You answered. “Sorry, is this your frat?”

The man scoffed. “Fuck no.” His response through you off, almost as if he was offended that you even entertained the idea of him even being a part of a frat. “I just know a couple of guys here. Frats aren’t really my thing.” He took another sip from his cup, finally smelling the whiskey on his breath. “You in a sorority?”

“Yeah, no.” You replied, sounding almost as offended as he did. “Nothing against sorority girls, but it’s not really my thing.”

“So, why are you here?” He asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“My roommate dragged me here. She’s the one in the sorority and her boyfriend is one of the frat bros from this house.” You finished the rest of your drink. “This isn’t really my idea of fun. I’m not a…party girl.” You almost mumbled the last two words.

“What is your idea of fun?” Again, he sounded genuinely curious. Maybe he wasn’t looking to just hook up – it was weirdly refreshing.

“Honestly?” You asked, and he nodded. “Anything but this.”

“So if I were to recommend pool or foosball, would that be something you’d find fun?” His suggestions intrigued you.

“Is that what you find fun?” You asked raising a brow, giving him a small smirk.

He grinned back, he too finishing up his drink. “Sweetheart, I can make anything fun.”

“Oh really?” Your voice intrigued. He simply just winked. “Listen, I don’t normally do this kind of thing –”

“Flirt?” He asked bluntly.

“Yeah…That obvious?”

He shook his head. “A little but, to be fair, the reason I came over to talk to you is because I thought you were hot.” You must of given him a look because he chuckled. “What?”

“Nothing just…never been told I’m hot before.” You admitted, it was his turn to give you a rather confused look.

“I don’t believe that.” He replied. He pointed to your cup. “Done?” He asked now reaching for it.

“Yeah.” You replied, handing him your empty cup.

“Are you busy Tuesday night?” His voice sounding a little nervous, yet confident.

“No, why?”

“Want to go on a date? I know a bar just outside of town that has foosball and the best bacon cheeseburgers you’ll ever have.” You did like the sound of that. “Unless foosball and bacon cheeseburgers aren’t your idea of fun.”

You gave him a smile, not wanting to admit to him that those two things were actually your idea of fun. “Well, you did say you can make anything fun.” You said, your tone teasing.

“So is that a yes Sweetheart?” You didn’t like the nickname, but gave it a pass considering how hot he was.

“That’s a yes.” You smiled, holding out your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

He took your hand in his and shook it firmly. “Dean.” He said, flashing you one of the best smiles you’ve ever seen.

September 13, 2023 – Y/N & Dean’s House in Kansas City, Kansas

You woke up to the sound of your alarm – 7:15am on the dot, and let out a tiny groan. You had no intentions of getting up for at least another hour; hating that you actually set an alarm – especially since you purposely took this week off. You felt Dean’s bare arm wrap around your waist and bring you closer to his chest, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. The stubble actually feeling weirdly nice on your bare shoulder. “Good morning.” You said, your voice lazy.

A single kiss was placed on your shoulder, the feeling making you slightly shudder, giving you goosebumps. “Morning Sweetheart.” He replied sounding just as lazy. “I thought you weren’t setting alarms.”

“I forgot to unset it.” You answered. You didn’t have to look to know he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah.” He replied, sounding like he didn’t believe you. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

“Have rough sex in bed.” You replied, your tone joking but at the same time, this was something you knew you or him wouldn’t actually mind doing today.

“Oh?” He asked. “You know, I do like the sound of that.” He kissed your shoulder again before you turned to face him.

“Why do I hear a but coming?” You asked.

“But…I do have another idea.” He said.

“And what’s that?”

“You remember The Bunker right?” He asked. How could you ever forget? It was the bar that Dean took you on your first date over 23 years ago. You nodded. “Well, I talked to the owner the other day and mentioned that we went there for our first date over 23 years ago and well…I took a shot in the dark and asked if he would be able to close the bar for the night…just for the two of us.”

You raised a brow. You were both impressed and confused. “How much did this cost you?” You asked. You hated that that was the first thing on your mind.

“Nothin’.” He answered almost too quickly. It sounded almost too good to be true.

“Nothing?” You asked in disbelief.

“Nothing.” He smiled.

“Alright. I trust you.” You said.

In reality it did cost Dean something, but it wasn’t money. In exchange for renting out the bar for the night for just the two of them, he agreed to fix the owner’s car.

September 13, 2023 – The Bunker Bar in Lebanon, Kansas

The bar looked exactly as you had remembered it – and smelled just as it did all those years ago. Although you and Dean used to come here almost every single weekend during your junior and senior year of college (you would make a weekend trip out of it), the two of you eventually stopped coming as frequently once you and him moved to Kansas City. The last time you and him had come here was probably 15 years ago. “So, we have the whole place to ourselves uh?” You asked, looking up at your husband – wearing something similar to how he dressed on your first date. It amazed you that he had actually remembered what he had wore. “I don’t normally fuss when it comes to outfits but…I really, really wanted to impress you.” Was something he told you during your wedding vows years later. Although he wanted to impress you, he still wore something similar to how he normally dressed, but the burgundy-colored shirt over the top of a black t-shirt and dark wash jeans was a look that was probably one of your favorites on him. His hair was even slightly gelled the same way.

“We sure do.” He smiled, admiring you. If he was being honest with himself, he never thought he’d be here right now with you. He didn’t think the date was going to go anywhere, despite it wanting to. He really thought someone like you would never of given him the time of day. “I really thought you were fucking with me when you asked me out and told me I was hot.” Was something you said to him during your first date. “I would never fuck with someone like this.” He reassured you.

“Think the bacon cheeseburgers are just as good as we remember?” You asked.

“I think so.” He said almost too quickly, but then rethought his answer. “Then again, I think I’ve only ever had them when I had a few drinks in me already.”

The two of you did your best to try and re-create your first date you had together all those years ago. Playing pool, foosball, indulging on bacon cheeseburgers, chili fries, mozzarella sticks, and beer. Despite loving all of this food, the two of you didn’t eat this food all at once – you knew both of your stomachs were going to hurt the rest of the night or maybe the next day, but neither of you seemed to care.

As the two of you were sitting at one of the tables, empty plates and baskets of food surrounding you, you opened up your purse and took out a box, handing it to Dean. He looked at you and started wiping his hands on a napkin in front of him. “What’s this?” He asked.

“Your anniversary gift.” You replied with a smile. “I know it won’t be as extravagant as this but, I still hope you like it.”

“It’s from you. Of course I’ll love it.” He winked, taking the box from you. He shook the box, trying his best to try and figure out the contents of the box. It sounded almost empty – which confused him.

“Just open it.” You said. “Trust me.”

“So bossy.” He winked, and you rolled your eyes. Unwrapping the box, it was plain and white, almost the size of a necklace box. Lifting the lid his eyes went wide. “No fucking…Y/N.” He looked up at you, and he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Season tickets.” You smiled. “I know you’ve been wanting them for a while.” You said.

You had gotten him season tickets for the Dallas Cowboys – his favorite NFL team, despite living in Kansas his entire life, then again, you too had lived in Kansas all your life and you were a Patriots fan.

Dean leaned across the table and kissed you, the two of you smiling into it. “I love you.” He said.

“I love you too.” You replied back. “Happy Anniversary.”

“Happy Anniversary.” He smiled back, the two of you kissing again.

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