sorensonsposts

[sorensonsposts]

Sitting for a brief moment of downtime at work and finally found it. The way out of the pit my storyline fell into last month.

Now I need to actually have time to write it.

[sorensonsposts]

I'm literally so stuck on how to figure out the middle and verrrryyy end of my fic and its a realllll bummer. All I have is a big "Narf" and nothing else.

[sorensonsposts]

Does this mean I get spurs for my sewing machine peddle?

Knitting! Nope gotta untangle string first

Crochet! After I untangle some string

Weaving - untangle lots of string

Cross stitch - hold up, string is tangled and I am full of rage

Sewing: string tangled into tiny knots of hatred

[sorensonsposts]

Use Me

Part 11 of Heart of Rock N Roll

CW: Smutty smut, 18+, NSFW

Dean and Natalie being suddenly nearly fused together drove Sam and Bobby mad. Dean would race back to Sioux falls from every job, drop Sam at Bobby’s door, all but throw his belongings into the dirt, and peel off to Natalie’s house. Each time he came back, they crashed together like two waves out in the vast ocean, both trying to absorb one another.

Dean was bleary-eyed, his foot nearly to the floor. It was late, an incredibly long drive behind them, nearly 5 minutes left to get to Bobby’s house.

“Dean, slow down. You’re gonna get us killed.” Sam huffs, adjusting his seatbelt nervously.

“Relax. I told Natalie I’d be there tonight, so I’m gonna be there tonight. I just gotta drop you off at Bobby’s.”

“Yeah, not in a body bag. You’re driving like a maniac, Dean. Also, you could drop me off at a motel, you know? I think Bobby’s sick of me bumming at his place.” Sam says.

“Well, you should’ve told me that like an hour ago, too late now. You’re Bobby’s problem now.” He says, the tires sliding on the gravel turn towards Bobby’s long gravel drive. Sam’s grip on the handle on the door tightens, not sure if it would be better to die in the car or open the door and try his luck rolling into the ditch. Sam sticks to bracing himself inside of the vehicle, hoping that his brother doesn’t kill them in his 3,800 pound death trap. As much as he is sick of feeling like a kid dropped off at the worst summer camp ever, he grabs his messenger bag and can barely shut the door all the way before Dean is spitting gravel and tearing off back down the drive. Sam sighs, turning toward the house, seeing Bobby has turned on the porch light, blinking into the pitch in his bathrobe.

“Those two are more horny than a Welsh black cattle farm.” Bobby grumbles. He holds the door open for a sheepish Sam, who marches into the house more embarrassed than angry at his amorous brother.

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Natalie has been crawling out of her skin, craving Dean’s touch, his everything. He promised as soon as he was done he would be back, but it was a long drive from Illinois to Sioux Falls. She knows she should go to bed, but her body is so amplified with anticipation, she feels she can’t close her eyes. She hears the rumble of the Impala, and she feels her own engine start with the sound of the tires crunch on the driveway. She’s off her chair and flinging the door open as Dean is trudging toward the door. He gives her a tired smile as he drags his duffle across the entryway. She goes in for a deep kiss, but he only returns a small peck.

“Hi.” Dean grumbles. “I gotta hit the hay, Nat. I’m toast.” He says, sliding past her. Natalie is close after him as he heads towards the bedroom, dropping his bag on the floor and taking off his jacket and boots. Dean catches her staring in the doorway. “What?” He asks. She wishes she could explain how her body feels tonight. That she might perish if she doesn’t have him. It’s been long stretches in between seeing him, and she aches the entire time he’s gone. She’s throbbing just looking at him disrobing down to a t shirt, jeans and socks. She marches up to him, kissing him roughly, her hunger for him flaring in her heart and pelvis.

“Nat, I’m so tired. I don’t know if I can--” Dean starts as she kisses his neck and nibbles on the cartilage of his ear like he loves her to do sometimes.

“I don’t need you to do anything Dean. I need you to lay down and let me have what I need.” Natalie replies, a gasping, whining tone taking over her voice. Her whole body is alight, ignited by his presence. She’s shoved him flat onto the bed, but he’s still trying to get his jeans off. She steps away from the bed, disrobing completely, waiting for Dean to do the same. The moment his shirt and boxers are gone, she’s climbed on top of him, straddling one of his thighs, kissing every part of him she can reach. She grasps him, a plaint escaping her lips at the feel of him in her hands. She grinds on his thigh and Dean groans.

“Nat...You’re so wet.” He says, his hands fumbling in a reach towards her center. She swats his hand away, grinding harder on his leg to spite him.

“You said you were tired, so now I have to do all the work.” Natalie says, grinding on him while still firmly grasping at what she has craved most in all these days.

“Oh so you’re just gonna use me?” Dean smiles, his eyes rolling up as she continues to play on top of him.

“Use you all the way up, baby.” Natalie says throatily, a sinister smile on her lips. She switches her body weight, swinging a leg over Deans hardness before dropping down on it, letting out a rapturous cry as he fills her cavity. She rests there, just a moment, relishing in the stretch, watching him writhe in pleasure at just being inside of her. He goes to grab her hips and she pushes his hands away, leaning back and reaching that astonishing angle that they both love. Natalie wants to ride fast, but knows that Dean won’t last at that pace. She wants to enjoy him longer, watch him contort under her in pleasure and in frustration at the control she will not relent to him. Natalie is deliberate with every stroke inside of her, crying out every time she sheathes him fully and feels their pelvic bones connect. Her first orgasm comes crashing down on her, forcing her to stop and hold on to his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin, unable to be upright for such a bolt of pleasure. She’s wailing, baring her teeth like some kind of animal, the pleasure shakes her so deeply. Once able to see straight, she’s back to riding, more heat filling her veins as she’s awash in pleasure with every rock of her hips, relishing his hardness with every movement. The fatigue in her ankles and in her back is easy to ignore with so much bliss to be wrought. Dean’s eyes roll up in the back of his head, his neck extends as he throws his head back, biting his lip, and Natalie is relishing the control she has over him, feeling like the sun, powerful to every green thing that grows.

“Nat…” He groans, unable to complete a sentence. He grabs hard at her hips, helping her drive them together. Natalie is wailing, crying his name, clamoring for his shoulders or anything to give her purchase on top of him. She so overrun with feelings from her core she can’t do anything besides keep moving her hips, roughly running him inside of her, so far gone that the only thing that will stop her is his peak, which she is beginning to pray will come soon. His fingers dig in deeper to the flesh of her hips, his heat washing into her, his hands stuttering as the last of her frenzy reaches her, her whole being electrified. As she comes down from her high, she collapses onto the bed beside him.

“I think I’m good with being used.” Dean croaks out, his chest heaving. Natalie lets out a coughing laugh, her body useless from the waist down momentarily.

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The next morning, Dean has Natalie fully seized in his grasp, his arms tangling all around her waist and capturing her arms with his own. She doesn’t want to wake him, his face looking so peaceful, at ease. The bedroom is cold, with bright white light pouring into the bedroom curtains. Natalie manages to wiggle out from underneath him, Dean quickly turning, capturing her pillow in her stead. She places the blanket over his shoulders, padding out of the bedroom, her toes feeling the deep chill permeating the house. She finally peaks outside the window and sees a thick frost has taken over the earth, covering everything in a veneer of crystal. She’s marveling at the sight of everything looking like it’s made of diamonds when Dean gets out of the bed. He’s standing in the living room behind her, blinking at the blinding light pouring into the windows.

“It’s official.” Natalie says, a small smile on her face.

“What is?”

“I’m out of a job until next year.” Natalie says, smiling.

“Well, I guess, I’ll just have to find something to occupy your time.” Dean says, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Oh I have a few ideas for what I could do.” Natalie turns to face him.

“Oh yeah?” Dean asks, a devious smile playing on his lips.

“I could come with you and Sam on hunts.”

[sorensonsposts]

Why would IG advertise solar lights that are pretty but literally $700? $700?!? They better dick me down and put fresh bedsheets on for $700.

I mean they look pretty and a couple pretty little solar lights would look nice around my garden but who the fuck does instagram think I am? Daddy Warbucks?

[sorensonsposts]

I finally finished Final Empire, which I have slogged through for like...a month? Slowest most unenjoyable book I've read in a while (Dont @ me. I loved Elantris also I don't care about your opinion because I am resolute in mine that shit was not awesome). Picked up another Reacher book and oh its is nice to read normal fiction. I'm back babeeyyy.

[sorensonsposts]

1000% Agree. Definitely not written for women, but the story is usually good enough I can get past child's writing of women by focusing on how much Reacher loves black coffee and hates owning stuff. Although the female characters are not completely flat, but uh, damn close. I'll take it over thrillers of women being brutalized and serial killers any day.

yo who wants to listen to me discuss jack reacher; jack reacher as a general but agreed upon projection of want men want to be, how this drives the books and what makes them so popular. jack reacher demands no analysis or thought about him as a character because he perfectly exemplifies the general populations ideals of morality; child hits the perfect gray area of law and order and vigilantism, this is to me one of the main aspects of what makes the books so enjoyable. i mean this trope is not new in anyway we see it so much in thrillers and action movies; but i really think child executed it immaculately.

however it cannot be ignored being a woman and reading these books will always be a different experience than intended; i like these books but they are in no way intended for a female audience. it is definitely not as bad as some male authors but like. come on.

[sorensonsposts]

Went on to Etsy and saw a bunch of weird beige pottery and stuff made for "Modern farmouse" and I was like "WTF happened to my Etsy algorithm" and it turns out I was just signed out with an update. Thank God. Back to weird holiday cards with Shrimp on them and funky AF stickers.

[sorensonsposts]

"All my shit is on Ao3, by the way." I say to absolutely no one on this app, because like maybe 50 people tops have read my shit.

I appreciate those 50 though.

[sorensonsposts]

Burnin' For You

Part 10 (I think?) of Heart of Rock N Roll.

Content warning: NSFW, 18+, Bit O Smut.

Dean knows without opening his eyes, he hasn’t slept this well in months. He wants to stay in this bed all day, but his phone is buzzing distantly, and he knows he won’t be that lucky. He fishes through the heaped clothing on the floor for his phone, finding it clamoring against his car keys in his jacket pocket.

“What?” Dean snaps into the receiver.

“Dude, what the hell? Where are you?” Sam asks, giving Dean the admonishing tone that he despises so much from his younger brother.

“I’m fine. Relax, Sam. You’re like a worried little old lady.” he snaps back. He turns to see Natalie, clad in a dark green bathrobe coming in with 2 cups of coffee. She passes one to him as he winks at her, raising the cup in thanks. He takes one sip, and involuntarily mumbles “Oh, God, that is so good.”

“Ew! What the hell are you doing? Dude, Bobby’s gonna kill you if you don’t get back soon. I’m hanging up before I have to claw my eardrums out.” Sam says, the call ending abruptly. Dean is happy to let his phone drop and enjoy the fantastic coffee brought to him by this gorgeous woman.

“You need to get going? Do you have time to drop me off at my car?” Natalie asks, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her own mug close.

“I got plenty of time.” Dean smiles at her warmly, watching her face flush red under his gaze. His phone buzzes again.

“Sam, seriously?” Dean asks.

“Yes, idjit, get your ass back here.” Bobby snaps at him.

“Alright, alright, I’ll be there in a bit.” Dean says, rolling his eyes as he sets down his phone again. Natalie stands and begins rifling through dresser drawers, grabbing clothes. Dean leans back on the bed, appreciating the view as she ditches her bathrobe and dresses in her standard short overalls and t shirt. She’s slamming her coffee back and wrangling her hair into a ponytail when Dean finally starts getting dressed.

“I think this is about as plenty as our time is going to get today.” Natalie says, finding her purse and grabbing the items she needs out of it. Dean grabs her by the waist, stopping her from reaching her weathered ball cap on the hook by the door. He kisses her deeply, feeling her nearly melt beneath his grasp.

“What about tonight, though?” Dean asks, arching an eyebrow at her, making her blush once more.

“Are you going to drop me off at my car? I need to go to Bobby’s anyway, check on the tomatoes.”

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They arrive in separate cars, but Natalie is close behind Dean on the gravel drive. Dean can’t help but watch her walk towards the rows of plants as he leans on the door of the impala.

“Dean.” Sam barks from the back door of the kitchen, making Dean’s eyes roll in the back of his head.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Keep your pants on, Sam.”

“I should say the same to you.” Sam snorts.

“Shut up. It wasn’t –”

“We ain’t got time for your lollygagging and arguing.” Bobby says, throwing an open book down on the kitchen table, making the dishware on it shake. Dean glances at the page and could honestly scream in frustration at the information on display.

“Are you friggin’ kidding me?”

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Natalie enters the house, her pockets overflowing with cherry tomatoes, to see a huge bag of guns and other instruments of pain on the kitchen table.

“Hello?” She says, slipping off her boots. She hears voices in the other room, but no one answers her call.

“You boys have to be careful. These alpha monsters they’re not--” Bobby stops mid-sentence, realizing Natalie is in the door frame.

“What’s an alpha monster?” She asks. This was a subject that wasn’t in any of the books Bobby had let her borrow and subsequently devour.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.” Dean gives her a weak half-smile.

“If the original monsters that were created by the first woman, Eve, do not sound bad, I’m not sure what does, Dean.” says a gravely voice behind her. Natalie jumps, whipping around to see a man in a tan trench coat, who definitely either apparated or has footsteps lighter than air.

“C’mon Cass, seriously?” Dean asks, gritting his teeth. Natalie feels a surge of embarrassment over her interjecting in this jittery room, deciding she should just go off to her next client rather than sit like a fool on the outskirts. She steps out into the kitchen, searching the kitchen cabinets for a colander or bowl for the tomatoes. She hears the conversation return in the parlor in lowered voices, and her heart decay, realizing that she her hopes for keeping Dean to herself are dashed. Sulking, she steps outside, bracing at the increasing heat of the day. She’s loading tools into her car when she hears the back door of the house swing open and closed. Her heart leaps, but she doesn’t dare turn around. She turns to get in the car, and is stopped by Dean’s hand on her shoulder.

“Natalie, I’m sorry. We gotta –” Dean starts quietly.

“It’s fine, Dean. Go fight the good fight.” Natalie says, a bitter smile forced onto her lips. She’s still getting in the car, too scared to look at him, fearing tears may begin to form if she looks into his green eyes. She wants him to let her go, allowing her to wallow in anger and loneliness rather than waiting longingly for him to return. It will be infinitely easier if it turns out she was just a late night, beer fueled fling, despite her heart crying for more.

“Nat, this is what I do. I have to do this.” Dean says, holding her door open as she’s putting her seat belt on. She hopes he will let the door go, allowing her to lock her heart away again, but his grip on the frame of the door is firm, and it is pulled from beyond her grasp.

“I know.” Natalie says dismissively. “Just, come back to me.” She shuts her eyes tight at the words she blurted out. She flushes, realizing how early it is to demand such things from him. Just because they slept together doesn’t mean he is beholden to her, and she knows how foolish she is to ask things to a man who has already died.

“Nat.” Dean says, closer to her than before. She opens her eyes, turning toward him, and he kisses her deeply. Her heart soars, and she savors the moment, unsure of when she will be able to see him again. “I’ll be at your door as soon as we’re done.” He says, wiping at the corner of her eye where loose tears had escaped. He smiles at her, raising an eyebrow. “And then we’re gonna break that bed in some more.” He says in a hushed tone. She lets out a laugh, and he gently shuts her car door. She starts the car, waving as he sees her stand with his hands in his pockets, watching her go.

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Four days, four long days. Natalie made herself frantically busy the first three, making each stop on her list of clients more immaculate than before. There wasn’t a weed in the county safe from her reach for the first seventy-two hours. The morning of the fourth day, Natalie wakes up, feeling a cool breeze from the window, the sky dark, hearing the ground being pelted by rain. She contemplates going on her rounds anyway, but a crack of lightning streaking across the sky changes those plans instantly. She has to find a way to steady herself, her whole world off kilter with Dean Winchester occupying most of her brain. She’s aching for his presence in ways she didn’t know was possible before him, longing for him like a man longs for water in the desert, like seeing color for the first time. Her world was black and white again, and she was craving the hues experienced in his presence.

She busied herself through the morning with cleaning. Her house was sparse, partially due to the fact that most of her belongings we’re still at her aunts house. She knew one day she would return, and every time she contemplated buying anything, she realized she had little interest in renting a truck to move crap to an already full house. She was not attached to anything or any part this house, save for the proximity to the Winchester boys’ home base. All her furniture save for the mattress was second hand, and she didn’t even keep her own garden at the house, since most people she helped gave her excess vegetables and fruit.

She curls up in her favorite chair, a candle lit on the coffee table, diving into another book pilfered from Bobby’s library. This one was extra challenging due to a portion of it being in German, so she fails to realize how much time is lost when the doorbell rings. She tries not to audibly squeal with excitement, flinging the blanket off of her lap and heading to the door. She opens the door to see exactly what she was longing for days on the other side.

“Hey, flower power.” He smiles warmly, walking past her through the entryway of the house. Color floods back to her world. She has been imagining him coming back into her home for days, but once he enters, she’s suddenly self-conscious. Her hair is in a knot on top of her head, she’s not wearing a bra or underwear in a ratty t-shirt and cotton shorts.

“Hi, Dean. If I would have known you were coming, I would have dressed better.” She chuckles nervously, pulling at the hem on the back of her shorts. Dean turns, giving her a mischievous smile.

“I’m just gonna take it all off here in a minute.” Dean says, getting close to her and reaching under the hem of her shorts to grab at her hips. Natalie lets out an involuntary whimper, and Dean flashes a carnal smile. “Oh, sweetheart, you miss me?” Dean asks, staring deeply into her eyes as Natalie tries to stay upright with his hands roaming her lower body. He lets out a sinister laugh as he feels the moisture that has been constant with his absence, and her body is set alight at him getting near the source. “Damn, Nat.” he murmurs, getting closer to her than before. Natalie is sure her knees will buckle, and Dean must notice, because he starts shedding his coat and flannel. “C’mon, you keep that up you’re gonna need new carpet.” He says, flashing that hungry smile once more as he smacks her on the ass, making Natalie squeak. She’s speechless at his libidinous mood, but she follows him dutifully to her bedroom. She turns to kiss him, and he hefts her onto her back on the bed. She’s waiting for him to disrobe the rest of the way, but he grabs her legs and throws them over his shoulders. She gasps, unbelieving in what he’s about to try.

“Son of a bitch, Natalie.” he says, the throaty tone of his voice rumbling against Natalie’s legs. He’s peeling aside her cotton shorts, so worn they give no resistance to him moving them aside. She wants to reply, to beg, to plead, to protest, but all Natalie’s managing is panting like a bitch in heat. He plunges his face into her core and she sees stars, unable to breathe, her hands nearly tearing the sheets under her. He surfaces for a moment and she finally finds the capability to inhale, gasping like a fish out of water, before he dives back down below. Natalie is trying so hard to speak, but Dean puts his fingers inside before her brain can form speech. She lets out a sinful noise, and Dean lets out a low chuckle, reverberating in her core, reaching under her shirt for her chest. Natalie can’t help arching her back as the bliss of his touch reaches a crescendo. Her eyes lose focus from the tears in her eyes. She cannot speak, cannot breathe, cannot see. Everything is fireworks in her world. Dean seems determined to leave nothing left of Natalie, because surely any more pleasure will send her soul to another dimension. He removes his mouth and fingers eventually, after Natalie is sure that weeks have gone by with her in a state of stupefied euphoria. She is gulping for air as if she has ran a marathon. Silently, Dean crawls on to the bed beside her, reaching to hold her, but she is so overstimulated, even his hands upon her waist make her quake. The aftershocks of what he did to her body make her twitch intermittently, and Dean stares at her with a goofy, soft smile on his face.

“What?” She says, her voice hoarse, as if she had managed to make any noise at all in the previous minutes.

“I’ve just been dyin’ to do that ever since the other night.” Dean smirks at her, putting a hand on her hip and watching her body give a small shudder.

“Oh yeah? Dyin’?” Natalie smiles, still feeling like lightning is coursing through her nerves.

“Like the Blue Oyster Cult, Nat. Burnin’ for You.” Dean says with a wink.

[sorensonsposts]

You know how when you're writing and you are way ahead of your writing and you have the tail end of the story but you get completely lost in the sauce of what the actual fuck you're gonna do for the resolution of story so you just can't seem to figure out what to write right now? Thats a damn mood right now.

Also if work could stop being a kick in the teeth, that'd be pretty rad.

[sorensonsposts]

The fact there's an American pope proves JD Vance killed pope Francis. After thousands of years they had to pick a guy from Chicago because the conclave needed someone who knew how to fight.

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I truly despise the dependency of telling people *exactly* what is happening. No nuance. No thoughts. Just blatant spoon fed facts. Bleh. No thanks.

You don’t need to say “She was losing.” 

Show me the way her breath stutters, the way her vision blurs at the edges, how her arms feel like lead but she still lifts them anyway. Show me the taste of blood on her tongue, the sharp sting when she wipes it away.  

A fight isn’t just fists and kicks, it’s instinct. It’s mistakes. It’s the split second where she moves left instead of right, and pain explodes across her ribs. It’s the way she grits her teeth, forces herself to stay standing, even when her legs threaten to buckle. 

People don’t announce their next move. They don’t think in long sentences. It’s breathless. It’s now. It’s move or lose. Make your readers feel every hit, every heartbeat, every desperate second she fights to stay on her feet.

[sorensonsposts]

Go All The Way

Part 9 of Heart of Rock n Roll. Actual content warnings this time.

Content Warnings: NSFW, 18+, good ol fashioned smut.

They are enmeshed with another, stumbling down the short hall to Natalie’s bedroom. Natalie is sliding her dress over her head, and Dean is scrambling to get his boots and pants off. He peels his shirt over his head, finally seeing Natalie bared before him. Natalie flushes as if struck by the sun, as Dean stares at her like a man starved before a feast. They strike together again, like flint and steel, hitting the bed so hard they bounce on the mattress.

“Dean…” Natalie moans. All her body is aflame in want. “Dean, please.” It’s not begging, but a prayer. A prayer that the ache between her legs she has felt for weeks for him finally be satiated. A prayer that her heart may finally bloom again, instead of sitting in the cold earth she had buried it in when she had lost hope.

Dean plunges fingers inside of her, as he begins to attach his mouth to every part of her chest he can manage to reach. Natalie writhes under his touch, and Dean simpers as she bucks in reaction to his rhythm inside of her. Despite her entire world crumbling in his embrace, she reaches the hardness he poses so close to her. He releases his mouths’ grasp on Natalie’s bosom to let out a groan, as his back arches in response. Natalie basks in his reaction as she adjusts her grip, bringing her opening closer.

“Nat, I don’t have anything with me.” Dean says, raising an eyebrow to unsure she knows that he has no barrier to put between them.

“It’s okay. I’ve been on the pill forever. Please, Dean.” She moans, still clutching him. She feels as if the oxygen in the room is about to ignite. She will be consumed if she cannot appreciate him inside of her, at long last.

He lines himself up and she guides him inside of her, both of them gasping. Dean hands are buried in the crease at Natalie’s thighs, but he does not move yet. Natalie wraps her legs around Deans back, grinding their pelvises closer together than before. She is set alight by even that movement, moaning with mere centimeters of friction.

“Nat.” Dean gasps, throwing his head back, relishing in her. When he does finally begin to thrust, Natalie cannot help keening at the feelings he sets alight in her. Dean smiles at her racket, grabbing her hips tighter as he pushes into her, making her grasp at the bed sheets, as if they will help her find her sanity in the madness of the pleasure he is raining down. Natalie knows she is nearly wailing now, like some wild animal, but it cannot be stopped. She is completely lost in every movement of his hips. Her orgasm strikes her like a bolt of lightning, and Dean sheaths himself inside her further than before. She is clamoring and clawing at his arms as he pants and she screams his name, much louder than she thinks she should. She’s too lost in the pleasure of him to have shame in her cacophony.

“Nat, you keep that up and I’m not gonna last.” Dean laughs, still pounding into her channel.

“Then you’re not gonna last.” She says, her voice trembling. She raises her hips to increase the friction between them, and is immediately met with another wave of pleasure. She feels her entirety shake, and wonders if the house will begin falling around them. She was not new to sex before Dean, but these insurmountable feelings are pristine, like crocuses after the last snow. Her back arches, and Dean uses the opportunity to reach under her and grab at the fleshiest part of her hips, His touch, and this new angle sends her into a frenzy, incapable of breathing, or even seeing past the tears in her eyes wrought from the pleasure. She will perish if he continues.

“Nat, I –” Dean starts, but his own orgasm stops his words. She feels his warmth inside of her, pleasure crashes down upon her one last time, and she can’t help the babbling of his name once more.

They fall apart, gasping and incapable of forming words. Natalie turns toward Dean, seeing his eyelids heavy and a small smile formed on his lips.

“You can sleep here tonight. It is late, after all.” Natalie says, arching an eyebrow at him. Dean huffs out a laugh.

Natalie stumbles out of bed, steadying her wobbling legs by leaning on the wall of the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Dean asks, sitting up.

“I need a shower Dean. I’m not going to sleep like this.” She says, leaning on the door frame to the hallway.

Dean follows behind her, smacking her on the floral tattoo that spreads to her ass on one side. Natalie yelps, but giggles follow after.

“Lead the way, flower power.” Dean says, grinning.

[sorensonsposts]

Mood.

Yeah you could say I’m doing numbers on tumblr. And that numbers? One

[sorensonsposts]

Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'

Part 8 of this bullshit, finally getting to the stuff y'all sluts really want.

Fucking took me forever to get this shit proper. There's a graveyard of text in my recycle bin.

No content warning, but getting spicy, I guess?

Natalie drops her purse on the table by the door, flipping on the light in the house. She turns, realizing she’s now inside her house with Dean right behind her, and knows she needs more beer to endure.

“Do you want a burger? She asks, heading around the corner to the kitchen. “I’m basically bartering with gardening, and someone gave me beef from their farm for landscaping.”

“Sure.” Dean shrugs behind her. Natalie still thinks he looks a bit pale, as she passes him a beer with her arms full of things from the fridge. She pops hers open with her teeth, drinking deeply as if the solution to the awkwardness in the kitchen is at the bottom of the lager. No words can seem to form between either of them, so Natalie turns to the stove, heating up a skillet on the range.

“Did you know that guy was a demon?” Dean asks, turning to open the burger bun packaging she had put onto the counter top.

“No. I just thought he was a nice guy. Maybe he was a nice guy once.” Natalie sighs, pressing ground beef into patties and throwing them into the hot pan.

“How did you learn the words? The exorcism?” Dean asks, leaning against the counter top as Natalie begins cutting a tomato and an onion.

“Bobby wanted me to know that one right off the bat. I copied it down until it stuck.” Natalie says, stepping back from the cutting board and the sting of allium on her eyes. She blinks, leaning on the counter top, realizing Dean’s feet are nearly touching hers, leaning opposite of her. They’re gazing into each other’s eyes, and she burns at the idea of him kissing her, maybe more. She wonders if she dives across the galley kitchen and kisses him, will he kiss her back?

“Uh, you know, you put yourself in danger with that. You could have gotten possessed.” Dean says with a tone of admonishment. He’s crossed his arms over his chest, giving her a discontented look. She can’t help smirking at him as she turns back to the skillet.

“I appreciate you tackling me into the gravel, Dean, but I’m covered.” She smiles.

“Oh, you’re covered?” He smirks, finishing his beer.

“Mmhmm.” She says, finishing her own. Her head is swimming from the alcohol and proximity to him. She pushes off the counter and hikes up the hem of her dress to her underwear, showing him the anti-possession tattoo she got, tucked into a motif of wildflowers that covers more than she is willing to show him just yet.

Dean stares, open-mouthed, and she relishes the sight of him getting lost in the fullness of her hip. He clears his throat, going into the fridge for another pair of beers. He opens them both as she shimmies her dress back down to normal length. She slides the burgers onto buns, trading a plate for a beer.

“To being covered.” She smiles, tipping the bottle towards him. The necks collide with a chime, and they dig in to their burgers.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean says, his mouth still full. Natalie bursts into a fit of laughter, her nose crinkling, her head thrown back. “I’m ruined now.” he says grinning, and she’s started all over again, tears nearly filling her eyes from cracking up. She turns to him, catching her breath, seeing the warmest smile on his handsome face. She hadn’t realized how many freckles were on his face. She knows she’s positively moon-eyed, but there’s too much alcohol flowing in her bloodstream for her to care. They finish their food in companionable silence, standing in the kitchen.

“It’s so late.” Dean says, putting his plate in the sink. Her heart sinks, realizing how much hope she had a hamburger would allow her fantasies to turn into realities. At the risk of bringing her hamburger back up, she has to speak her mind.

“You could stay the night if you wanted.” She says, feeling blush surge to her face. The galley kitchen seems to narrow as he turns to face her.

“Natalie –” Dean starts, but is unable to finish his sentence. Natalie crashes into him, her lips meeting his, her hands on his shoulders. He is stiff at first, but softens and grabs at her waist. They become frantic, pressing upon each other. She has a hand on his chest, another on the back of his neck, as his hands roam towards her hips and ass. He moans as he pulls away from her, and she realizes she is breathless, her chest heaving. He clears his throat as he lightens his grip, smoothing the waist of her dress. “Natalie, it’s, uh, it’s really late. We’ve both had more than enough beer. I think we should call it a night.”

Natalie isn’t sure if she should burst into tears, or slap him across his face. She wants to curl up into the kitchen cabinets and die. She goes to turn away from him, and he catches her by the waist. She closes her eyes, realizing if she opens them, tears will flow.

“Natalie, please.” Dean whispers. She opens her eyes, allowing the tears to stream down her face. “Natalie –” he repeats, his own eyes beginning to teem.

“Do you want me or not, Dean? I can’t do this anymore.” She murmurs, gritting her teeth. Her heart cannot withstand being some kind of plaything.

“I do. Natalie, I do. It’s just...I want you to be sure.”

“I’ve been sure!” She growls, glaring at him. She’s ready to break every one of his fingers for this treachery. She goes to wrench his hands off of her waist, but instead, he’s kissing her now, holding her like she’s anchoring him to the earth. They become even more frenetic than before, as Dean now is grabbing handfuls of fabric, trying to grab at the flesh of her legs rather than cotton. Natalie is nearly ready to tear his shirt apart. They pull apart, both breathing hard.

“I’ve been sure too.” Dean says, throaty, with a sinister smile on his face.

[sorensonsposts]

Roadhouse Blues

Part 7 of 'heart of rock and roll' where I can't think of decent titles so I use rock and roll songs as titles.

No content warnings this time.

It’s well after dark, and Dean can’t sit still. He hasn’t been able to focus since Natalie left in a hurry looking gorgeous in that dress. He’s turning pages of the old book in his lap, but he knows he isn’t actually reading anything. He’s thinking about what a moron he was to say no to dinner, to not chase her down the stairs and go with her to wherever she was heading. Where was she heading? There wasn’t that many places to go around Sioux Falls. He sighs, realizing he can’t sit in this room anymore. Slamming the book shut, he gets up, checking his pockets for his keys.

“Dude. It’s like, midnight. Where are you going?” Sam asks, looking at him over the edge of his laptop.

“I gotta get some air. Clear my head.” Dean says, sauntering toward the kitchen. Bobby is coming around the corner with a cup of coffee.

“Don’t screw it up more than you already have.” Bobby mutters to him, shuffling past. Dean winces, realizing no one is fooled by his excuses as he slams the kitchen door shut.

He gets in the Impala, tearing off into the darkness, hoping to make up for his mistakes. It doesn’t take all that long to find her car in the gravel lot of a small bar. He pulls in the back of the lot, trying to be inconspicuous with a car louder and larger than every other car in the lot.

Walking toward the door, he’s trying to think of an opening line, or at least an excuse of driving past 2 liquor stores to come have a drink in a dive like this. He freezes when he hears Natalie laughing. It’s close, and he basks in the full throat peal. He peeks around the corner in a crouch and sees her, sitting on top of an old weathered picnic table, next to a man. Rage flashes in Dean’s heart.

“Wish.com Lumberjack douchebag.” He snarls. He stands up, straightening his flannel collar. He walks around the corner, pretending not to notice Natalie. She turns at the sound of his boots on gravel.

“Oh hey, Dean.” She says, leaning back to grab her beer off the table and taking a deep drink. She’s definitely drunk as she grabs the man’s arm to right herself. She lets out a giggle. “This is Eric.” she points to the man with the blond beard she was just hanging on to for balance.

“Well, used to be Eric at least.” the man says, as he blinks and his eyes turn black as the sky.

Dean leaps forward, reaching into his pockets for his gun, or a knife, or anything to protect her.

“Natalie!” Dean yells, running to grab her away from him. The demon grabs her wrist, trying to wrench her off the table. Dean manages to get his gun, but before he can even raise it to fire, Natalie has crashed a beer bottle into the side of the lumberjack wannabe’s head. The demon stumbles, and she’s off the table and speaking latin.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio, infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare. Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire te rogamus, audi nos.”

The demon ejects himself with a violent scream and a cloud of black smoke, Dean is running, trying to pull Natalie away, to keep her from becoming the next vessel. He crashes into her, rolling as he falls so her skin won’t hit the hard gravel. The man is in a heap in the lot, and Natalie is in Dean’s arms. He’s covering her head, trying desperately to protect her, like all the other women he has tried and failed to protect before. He’s clutching her to his chest, harder than necessary, but something about holding her feels right. He realizes she’s shaking. He releases her and realizes she’s not shaking, but laughing.

“Holy shit!” She says, pulling herself out of the gravel. “Bobby warned me it could be wild, but that was nuts. Are you okay?” She asks, holding an arm out for Dean to help him up. He’s staring gobsmacked at her. He takes her hand, and she helps pull him up.

“Dean? Are you okay?” Natalie asks, staring at him. Dean realizes he feel wholly unwell. He thought she would be hurt, scared, anxious, even terrified. Instead Dean realizes he’s feeling all these things, and she’s completely unfazed.

“How did… Did you…” Dean sighs, unable to organize his racing thoughts. He sighs, grabbing his keys. “C’mon. I should take you home.”

The car ride is painful, as Dean can’t seem to find the right words, making Natalie’s directions to her house the only talking in the Impala. As he pulls into the short driveway in front of her house, it all seems to spill from him.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbles, still staring ahead. She turns to him in the car, but Dean cannot bring himself to meet her gaze. “Every person we care about who gets involved with me, or Sam, or even Bobby, gets hurt. It’s my fault that demon showed up. He was probably looking for me or Sam. I thought you we’re going to get possessed, like Lisa…” He swallows hard, a lump forming in his throat.

“C’mon inside for a beer.” Natalie says softly, exiting the passenger side of the impala.

Dean is frozen, utterly devoured in the suffering of the past. He’s thinking of Lisa, holding her as she bled, watching her and Ben completely forget about him, as he had begged Castiel to do for them.

“Dean.” he hears close to him, breaking his trance. Natalie is leaning on the drivers side windowsill, her face inches from his. His heart feels like it’s jarring his rib cage loose from his body being so close to her. The smell of her perfume, her body in that dress, her dark hair wafting in the gentle late night breeze. He knows he should fire the engine of the impala back up, peel off back to Bobby’s and leave her here, where it’s safe from everything the Winchester family provokes. Instead, he’s opening the door, following her up the walkway to her house.