#Jensen in t shirts

[justjensenanddean]

Jensen Ackles | Charlotte (North Carolina) Convention, August 19, 2023 [x]

[jensensgotyoudean]

Screen shots from Jensen’s TTPOA video (x)

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

HOW HAVE I NOT THOUGHT ABOUT JENSENS BAND PLAYING AT THE BAR BRYCE WORKED AT IN UNDERGRAD. WHO LET ME GO THIS LONG WITHOUT IT

[beaudeanw]

Jensen Ackles as Beau Arlen in Big Sky Season 3 trailer (x)

[eileenleahy]

kripke thinking sam & dean using umbrellas made them look like sissies or whatever he said is so funny cause its like. get wet to prove youre not gay. yeah make sure youre real soaked

[onpassivemoha]

the future of internet

 The Future Of Internet  

at your fingertips. Join the family of digital pioneers and register in the ONPASSIVE ecosystem for instant access to O-Mail and O-Net for free now!

[mostnormalsuccessionfan]

Shout out to Ben ( @objectivelygreen ) 4 the amazing bday gift

[lilacpaperbird]

whoooo do I need to pay to make a fucking sam winchester eras tour t shirt i'm going to scream i need it

[deancrowleycas]

The year is 2024. A robot is flirting with Misha Collins and his blue eyes. You are blogging about it on Tumblr. Somewhere in the back, Jensen Ackles is writing his reboot plans on a T-shirt. You hear the faint voice of "I love you, Dean" in your head 24/7. The angel is gay.

[natsrockysbar]

https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/38576440-love

i made some designs on tee public :) this whole lotta love led zeppelin one is my fav!! 🫶

[justjensenanddean]

Jensen Ackles | Family Business Beer Company, September 2023 (x)

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Home Sweet Not Home

Summary: The reader wakes up in bed next to a familiar but oh so strange man...

Pairing: Jensen x hunter!reader

Word Count: 1,400ish

Warnings: none

A/N: Hooo boy enjoy this one!

You felt warm when you began to stir awake. There was a heavy blanket on you that was nice, not out of the ordinary for Dean to pile an extra one on the bed while you were sleeping. You rolled over in bed, smashing your face in a bare chest.

“Morning,” Dean mumbled. His voice wasn’t as deep and you wondered if he was coming down with something. You blinked open your eyes, resting your hands on his chest, running them down briefly before you cocked your head.

“Where’s your tattoo?” you asked carefully, putting your hand on his pec, ready to use your nails in the shifter’s flesh as a distraction. But this Dean was chuckling, nuzzling his cheek against yours.

“S’on my shoulder like always, silly,” he said, yawning and sighing softly. “You okay? You’re tense.”

You shifted your head up, noticing the white headboard, eyes darting around to see soft light colored walls, a large balcony door and a window overlooking a grassy backyard and pool.

“What the…” you said, standing and hopping out of bed, glad that you were at least in the t shirt and shorts you remembered falling asleep in. You went over to the door and pulled it open, Dean out of bed and moving to the other side of the room, hitting something on a white thermostat looking thing.

“Honey,” he said, walking over as you stood on the small balcony, leaning over the railing to look at a patio and some trees. “Y/N. Everything alright?”

“Where…” you asked, Dean sighing.

“We’re in Austin,” he said, running his hand gently over your head. You turned to look up at him, spotting him in a pair of navy boxers that he normally wore.

“Austin?” you asked, his arm sporting the tattoo he mentioned before but it wasn’t an anti-possession one.

“Okay,” he said, gently resting his hands on your shoulders and pulling you back into the very nice bedroom, soft carpet under your toes. He sat you on the bed and kneeled down in front of you. “The doctor said this might happen so that’s why he gave us the list of questions, remember?”

You had no idea what the hell was going on but you just shrugged, this guy very kind for a shifter if he was one.

“Okay. What’s your name?” he asked with a smile.

“Y/N,” you said.

“Your full name, sweetie,” he said, still smiling.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, the smile wiping off his face.

“That’s your maiden name,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “S’okay. We’ll keep going. What’s today’s date?”

“Um,” you said, thinking for a moment, Dean cocking his head when you answered.

“That’s right,” he said, forcing a smile on his face. “Does your head hurt, honey?”

“My head? Why would my head hurt?” you asked.

“We were in a car accident two days ago. They were concerned you had a concussion. Last night was the first time you were at home. Do you not remember any of this?” he asked.

“Dean, I don’t-”

“Dean? You know I love a good joke but now is not the time, Y/N,” said Dean. You swallowed hard, Dean putting a hand on your head. “What’s my name?”

“I…” you said, looking around the room for any kind of clue. Something had happened after your witch hunt obviously. Same name, different person. You were still Y/N where ever you were but a different version, paired up with a different Dean that apparently wasn’t named Dean. You were well off if your yard was anything to go off of so you definitely weren’t hunters. “I’m just tired. Sweetie.”

“Nice try. What’s my name?” he asked again.

“Honestly?” you asked. He nodded, curiously looking up at you. “I don’t remember.”

“That’s alright,” he said, very good at hiding the flash of concern that showed up on his face. “Do you-“

A phone started to ring, Not Dean ignoring it in favor for paying attention to you.

“Do you remember how we met at all?” he asked.

“Working a job,” you said, his face twitching up.

“That’s right,” he said, tilting his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m just...messing with you,” you said, the man pouting. He opened his mouth but a doorbell rang somewhere, the man getting to his feet.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here,” he said, walking over to a closed door, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from the floor as he went. The second he was out of the door you started to look around, trying to find clues about who he was. You could always make a break for it but in pajamas you didn’t think you’d get far, especially with this guy’s sweet husband thing he had going on.

You walked through an open door to a bathroom, cutting through it to find a closet. You sighed, wishing you’d found something with a name until you jogged back to the nightstand, a wallet on top.

“Yes,” you said, ripping it open and pulling out a Texas license. “Okay. Jensen Ackles. 6’ 1”. Organ donor. Well that’s nice and all but I still know nothing.”

You started to dig through the wallet, mostly credit and reward cards, some cash and a business card with a doctor’s name and number. There was a faded picture of him and a woman that looked exactly like you, the worn edges saying it was probably at least five years old.

You put the wallet back when you heard him coming, sitting back in your spot on the bed, trying to seem relaxed.

“Who was at the door, Jensen?” you asked innocently, Jensen lifting his chin.

“Kid up the street. Girl Scout cookies. I ordered you some thin mints,” he said, padding around to the side of the bed, arms crossed. “Don’t pull shit like that again. It’s not funny. You know how freaked I was after the accident.”

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, his face briefly looking hard before he started to drag his toes through the carpet.

“I get this feeling you’re lying to me,” he said, looking you in the eye. “I’ve known you forever, kiddo. You have that look on your face.”

It’d be easy to lie and make something up. It’d be easy to fake a concussion too. Telling the truth would probably get you thrown in an institution.

Jensen tilted his head and walked over to you suddenly, grabbing your underwear and pulling the band down an inch.

“Hey!” you barked at him, kneeing him hard, Jensen falling to the floor.

“You don’t have a tattoo,” he said, getting to his feet slowly, pressing his thumb against your hip, wiping over your anti-possession one. “That’s real.”

He backed away from you, looking you up and down.

“You would never hit me like that because you know I don’t touch you like that and…” he said, tilting his head as he stared at your leg. “You don’t have a scar on your thigh. What…”

“Jensen...take a breather for me buddy,” you said, Jensen shaking his head. “I can explain.”

“Am I nuts? You’re not my...did I die in that accident? Is this some-“

“Dude! Chill. You’re not dead,” you said, Jensen eyeing you suspiciously. “You’re fine. I’m the one that’s…”

“Not my wife?” he said, closing his eyes. “This is one of those freaky weird dreams that seems super real. That’s what it is. You definitely aren’t-“

“Uh, I’m Y/N,” you said. “Hate to break it to you.”

“I was going to say, Reese,” he said. “You know, the character you play on a tv show. Now would be a great time to tell me this is a very in-depth prank.”

“Me? On TV? I have done some crazy stuff but that…” you said, Jensen nodding his head at you. “You’re freaking out.”

“Just a little,” he said. You hummed.

“I guess I have to give you the civilian talk,” you said.

“The what?” he asked.

“Just take a seat, Jensen.”

_________

[ronearoundblindly]

For your Valentine's ask game: #7 Jake Jensen x reader, idk why but it seems fitting 😂

Shut Up, Jensen, one of my Valentine's Fics for 2024!

Oh, this poor, poor, awkward perv. He's pervy until there's a naked lady around and then 😳 "...when I was four, I shoved pennies up my nose..." Seriously, boi, shut up!

Warnings for spice, i.e. a setup to smutty times, but mostly suggestive. MINORS DNI, just to be safe. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this one is not for you! WC 1042

You’ve always had a soft spot for nerds, and now, that’s translating to a damp spot on your fanciest panties you wore for this date.

Jake Jensen goofy-grinned his way through the entire evening, making you almost snort a tequila sunrise through your nose, and he never let up. The humor made you comfortable. It’s endearing to see his nervousness right on his graphic-T sleeve as opposed to being ‘manly’ and aloof.

It’s so, so refreshing to hear someone say, “I’m having a great time,” “I don’t want the night to end,” and know deep down in your bones that they mean “spending this time with you has made me happy” instead of “I’ve done enough to get laid now, right?”

Unsurprisingly, it does mean Jake’s done enough to get laid.

You give him your address so he could park his Jeep outside your building. There are parking meters, but tomorrow is Sunday when they’re free. No big deal. You left the bar (which was after the restaurant, which was after the coffee shop) a minute or two before in order to meet him at one of the open spots and walk him in. He can’t meet you at your door because there is a locked gate to your courtyard, and then a keypad for your building, and then about three corridors to navigate. It’s just easier to show him the way.

You can hear that fucking car coming a mile away.

Jake smiles and waves as he parallel parks—with extreme precision, you note—then hops out, gesturing to the meter questioningly.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrug, jumping to the edge of the curb before he steps up so you can use the height for a kiss on his cheek.

It’s adorable how flustered he gets at just that tiny bit of affection. Though it’s dark, it’s obvious he blushes ferociously, rubbing at the back of his cropped, short hair, racing to gather his thoughts.

“Did you know there are almost three hundred ways to make change for a dollar? Two hundred ninety-three to be ex—woah—“

You grab his hand to lead him inside.

At the gate, you have to pause for the magnetic lock.

“I’m surprised those things even take change anymore,” Jake muses quietly, courteous for the neighbors’ sake, “because physical money only makes up 8% today’s currency…in the whole world.” He slides past the thick steel grating. “Thank you, digital banking.”

He follows behind you in the maze of concrete paths to the next entry.

“People leave like half a million dollars worth of loose change at airport security. That’s a little shocking,” he whispers when you motion for him to take a left, “think you’d splurge for some decent toilet paper with that kind of dough, or maybe some more cup holders in those row-seats? They could, I don’t know, offset the cost of making pennies. Shit cost two cents. Is worth one. Wild…

“Meanwhile, a dime has 118 ridges on the rim of the smallest circumference.”

Doesn’t even matter what he’s saying, the more his plump pink lips move, the more insanely turned on you get. You have to crowd him through your own doorway before you start stripping in the middle of the hall.

You peel your blouse off the instant your keys clatter onto the dinette table. You spin around to grab him by the screen-printed emblem of his t-shirt.

“There are 1.4 billion $2 bills in circulation.”

He gives a little oof sound when his back hits one of your bedroom walls, and there’s a barely audible whimper as your hands snake up under soft, well-worn fabric.

Holy shit, is this boy cut!

Your thumbs actually catch on the deep ridge of his Adonis belt. Dimes got nothing on you, Jake Jensen…

His breathing has changed significantly. “Did you know they—“ he gasps and swallows “—still make those?”

Ok, why is it hotter when he’s not even trying?

“Fun fact: if you went to Zimbabwe, guess which currency you’d…use?” The neckline of his shirt has to pop over his glasses before he fixes them. “The U.S. Dollar. Seriously! Same damn mon—EH.”

His belt buckle is tricky to navigate from this angle and in the very low light of your bedside lamp. You give up on his pants to unzip your skirt at the hip and let it fall.

Jake stands perfectly still with his hands half-raised.

“You’re…really fucking pretty—sorry—really pret—sexy, not that I—but beautiful. You’re really—”

He sucks in a breath as you step within inches of him again, reaching up to carefully pull his glasses over his ears and place them by the lamp.

“Fuck…”

Your index finger tucks into the elastic of his boxers where they peek out above the belt.

“Yeah, so I’ve been—I’m—I don’t have a—what I’m trying to say is—“ he squeezes his eyes shut and wiggles his fingers higher in the air, searching for the right thought “—the most commonly printed bill is actually the one-hundr—“

“Jake,” you interrupt, gently smoothing your hands over his thick shoulders. He is so ripped, what the hell? You guess there are nerds and then there are nerds, wow…

“Do you want to continue?”

He nods super fast, eyes growing wide in panic.

“Good.”

You smash your lips to his, hauling him down and you up by the sturdy tower of muscle he is.

“Condoms are in the drawer,” you mutter between breaths.

He lets out a high, choked whine before clamping his huge, warm hands to your waist, melting into you and your touch.

You coax the both of you toward the bed, swatting at his belt as a signal for him to help, and he does, though he’s not the greatest multitasker. He huffs and smirks, breaking the kiss so he can unlatch, unbutton, and unzip.

Then he looks up at you. 

“So you like movies…?”

You cup his jaw in your hand and pinch, a gentle peck on his lips as encouragement to focus. “Less talking, more fucking, Jensen.”

He opens his mouth, clearly running through a series of replies, but thinks better of it and  pushes down his pants and boxers all at once.

Lloyd Hansen and a kiss on a place of insecurity ⬅️ ➡️ Steve Rogers and a kiss on a scar

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @peyton--warren Y'all getting sick of me yet???

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Call Interrupted

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

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

Pairings: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1,358

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

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

The beautiful dividers here were created by @plum98

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

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

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

He needed some stress relief right now.

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

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

"Shh..." 

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck." He groaned quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, Jensen, harder, faster."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Was this what you came in here for?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rainydayandmondays]

It's Cold

Summary: Ransom wakes up to a chilly, fall morning with nothing to really combat the cold he feels. It doesn’t help that Jake has you hogged across the bed to himself.

Pairing: Jake Jensen X Reader, Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+ only. Explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, fingering (women receiving), creampie.

Author's note: It's been a while since I've written anything for a fandom. We'll see how this goes 🤷🏾‍♀️

Chapter 1 in All is Well series written with @buckybarnesisdaddy and @theinheriteddutchess.

Early November

Waking to soft puffs of air on the back of your neck, you’re aware of the bear hug hold that Jake has on you. He’s worn his favorite Stars Wars t-shirt and boxer briefs to bed. But they do little against the fall morning. The temperatures had just started changing and even though outside was no autumn landscape, the cooler air of last night had caught you by surprise. Jake pulled you tight to the curve of his body, greedily soaking up any body heat that radiates off you. He was a covers hog as much as he was a cuddler. And while most times he preferred being the big spoon, there were nights that he curled into you. Your arms did little to reach across his broad chest and left you circling his trim waist. He liked those nights, your hands always seemed to wander down in your sleep. In the morning, he would wake to your hand tucked just under his waistband. His dick somehow knew it was you and reached out for the tips of your fingers. Like it knew it belonged there.

As Jake continues to snore into the crook of your neck, you blink away the sleep to see your other companion. Ransom Drysdale was a new addition. Where Jake was nothing but ready to please, his golden retriever energy taking over most of his personality, Ransom was like one of those temperamental Bengal cats. It’s leopard coat just flashy enough to catch anyone’s attention. But those paws always ready to swat away at anyone who had the gall to get too close. He did things on his terms, living to be contrary to everything and everyone. He had fought you, ready to prove that he didn’t need anyone, especially not you. The others had tried to get to know him and all had quickly been caught on the wrong side of his harsh tongue and haughty expression. It was Jake, his complete opposite, that had brought him around. More specifically, the way that Jake was with you. Jake didn’t care how he looked tagging along behind you. He didn’t care how small he looked letting you be the big spoon. And the way you called him Jakey. Were you trying to infantilize him?  Even now, Jake had so wholly wrapped himself around you, you would think that he thought you would vanish from his bare hands.

Ransom had woken up before either of you. The cold nipped at his body. He always preferred sleeping in the nude. However, you made him promise to at least wear underwear when all three of you were together. Most nights he would come to bed with your required attire, only to slip them off and kick them to the bottom of the bed. He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved the squeak of surprise you would give if you rolled into him during the night. He wasn’t ashamed of what he had to offer, never had any complaints. But there was something extra special about you finding him and his little friend in the night. The fact that he disobeyed made it all the better.

But now he lay there, the cool of the room getting to him and you across the bed snuggled into Jake. He frowned as he watched the two of you peacefully laying together. He wasn’t jealous in the slightest. Never could be. It was cold, just cold. Jake’s snoring wasn’t helping either. He stared at you, daring you to wake up. You couldn’t be that comfortable. Reaching up, he drew a line down the side of your face. His fingers tingled from the warmth of your cheek. You had to feel that. You twitched slightly, letting a little moan slip out. That got his attention and he twitched himself, all be it a little lower. He reached out again, this time going down and then up your cheek. That did it.

You caught Ransom quickly lowering his hand beneath the blankets. The outline of his profile in your direct eyeline. You watched as he pretended to sleep.

“Ran?” You whisper his name, careful not to wake the IT expert behind you. You reach out to lay a hand on his bare chest. Ransom always liked to complain about the cold. Except for sleeping, he was always wrapped in some kind of sweater. Wooly, cable knight, it didn’t matter. Feeling his skin, you feel the coolness of his chest. That cool touch you felt is starting to make more and more sense.

“Ransom?” Hearing his full name causes the corner of him mouth to twitch. Smug bastard was going to be difficult this morning.

Rolling towards Jake, you ignore the small huff leave Ransom.

“Jakey?” Reaching out to put a hand against Jake’s cheek, you feel him pull you closer, his legs locking with yours.

The small moan he lets out as you start to follow the lines of his sideburns, let’s you know that at least one of them would listen to you this morning.

“Jakey, wake up.” Your second call to him has his eyes fluttering open. You see as he tries to focus in on your face without his glasses. Once he zeroes in on your soft smile, he sighs softly, leaning in to give you a small peck.

“Morning precious,” you smile at the nickname. After making the mistake of letting him know how you never really got The Lord of Rings, he set out to show you the entire trilogy over the span of a holiday weekend. By the second movie, he had taken to quietly mouthing Gollum’s lines. When calling him out on it, he turned to you and whispered “My precious.” The nickname had stuck ever since.

“Can you go see if Bucky’s made breakfast?” You watch as his forehead creases. The three of you are usually the last to the breakfast table each morning. The sun was barely breaking its way through the curtains. It couldn’t be time to go down just yet.

Staring down at you, he goes to question your request until he sees Ransom shift behind you. The way he subtly inches towards you, feigning sleep while his mouth inches into a slight smirk. Jake looks back to you, seeing your eyes silently pleading that he understand.

Jake understood. He always did. Your arrangement maybe different from societal norms, but when had he ever worried about that. When you found him bent down picking up small baggies of orange slices outside of his niece’s soccer game, you hadn’t judge him. Just smiled down at him and helped get the remaining bags into his backpack. Even after months of dating when he let you know about his real job, not the fake corporate IT one that he told everyone, you had just smiled. He moved into the house shortly after and readily took on the role of your person. There were others in the house, but he was yours.

When Ransom entered the picture, he saw how hard he fought everyone. It was going to take time for him to trust and be trusted. Jake pitied him. He just needed someone to not judge him. You, who hadn’t judged all his dorky attributes, laughed at his awkward jokes, and didn’t run after learning about his elite task force, you could help Ransom. Lying in bed a few months into Ransom being here, he suggested that he move to your room. And as before, you just smiled up at him.

“Okay,” Jake nodded leaving you with a longer morning kiss this time.

 Watching Jake grab his hoodie off the back of his desk chair and hustle out the room, you turn back to Ransom. This time you find him facing you, eyes staring down at you, the smirk full blown.

“It’s cold,” at his remark, you give him your own smirk and scoot over to snuggle into his chest. Ransom would never ask specifically to be held. He didn’t need that. Two people embracing without it leading to fucking. What was the point of that? He just needed you to get close enough and his little friend should be able to take over.

Moving closer to him, you quickly gasp as you figure out just why he’s so cold. Little bastard broke the rules again. Looking up at him, you see his tongue quickly jut out to lick his bottom lip, “What’s wrong, princess?”

You shake your head at him, bowing it to fit beneath his chin. You’re not sure where the nickname came from. Knowing Ransom, it was to either get under Jake’s skin with a term of endearment too close to his for you. Or he probably thought he was being smart by playing off the fact that when it came to this room, you were in charge.

Feeling you breathe against his collarbone, Ransom runs his hand down your thigh, grabbing just under your knee. Hiking it over his hip, he leans into you. Fuck this cuddling.

“Ran,” you chastised him as he griped your hip and began palming your ass cheek.

“It’s. Cold,” he punctuated each word, moving your hips closer and causing your breath to hitch. The heat from you radiating through your underwear, giving him just a taste of what your warmth felt like. If only he could maneuver the both of you just right, he knew he could slip in. He was confident you would be ready for him.

“What do you need, Ran?” His eyes snapped down towards you. So concentrated in pressing you against him, he hadn’t noticed you staring at him. He hated this question. What could he possibly need? You always did this. Tried to reduce him to some needy little thing. You had Jake the puppy to be that for you. He was Ransom Drysdale for fuck’s sake. If anything, you should be needing him. You did need him, he could tell you that you needed him in your pebbled nipples he could feel through your nightshirt and your thigh tightening around him.

“I need you to stop being a bitch so we can fuck,” he growled down at you.

Your answer was instant, as you quickly untangled yourself from his grasp and started to roll towards the other end of the bed. You don’t get to roll away. Not from him. His hand shot to your wrist pulling you back. You looked at him incredulously, body tight, as the corners of your mouth pinched in. He could tell he fucked up. But what’s it to him. If anything, he could go find one of the others and have them bounce on his cock for him. He didn’t need you. He didn’t need anyone.

He stared back at you, willing you to break first from this Mexican standoff. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. That should do the trick. You hated his smirk, knowing he only did it because he’s an asshole. You would throw him out of the room, send him downstairs to think about what he said. Any second now, you would yell at him to get out.

Looking at Ransom, purposely wearing that smirk, you see his eyes flicker down in almost regret. It’s a split second, if anything, and he quickly recovers his smug mask. You sigh, knowing that he was a spoiled brat. But only because he had learned that was only way to get attention. Ransom needed attention, constant attention. For him, your attention meant you cared, and if you cared, maybe you could like him. If you liked him, maybe you could comfort him. If you comforted him, maybe he could feel loved.

The tension leaves your body and you relax back down next to him. With your wrist still in his hand, he doesn’t notice your other hand reach under the covers. Sure that he has won, his smirk falls into a true smile until he feels you grab onto him. It’s not your first time handling him, you know how to tight to squeeze and where to rub. You slide up and down, giving him a few languid strokes before using the type of your fingernail to gently scratch along the head. His body’s response is immediate. A low groan leaving his throat, as he dribbles onto your fingers.

“Is this what you need, Ran?” Exhaling harshly through his nose, he bites down on his tongue to stop from answering. Gazing up at him, you stroke him a bit more, running her fingernail along the vein on the underside of him. You notice the tick in his jaw as he bares down, refusing to admit to needing this. Your shirt having ridden up, you trap him between his pelvis and your tummy. Rubbing him along your soft belly, he slides easily as he continues to drip onto you.

Jolting at the sensation of your skin against him, he tightens his grasp on your wrist still trapped between your torsos. Peeking up at him, you catch his blown pupils gazing down at you. You let a quick smile go just to push his buttons that bit more. He answers by grabbing onto your leg, hiking it back over his hip. His hand inches over your ass before disappearing under the edge of your underwear.

The slick his fingers encounter quickly coats them and he runs his index and middle over your lips. He could feel them getting puffy, imagining how they looked cushioning his two fingers. He slid them back and forth, just nudging at your little hood that was just starting to pull back. One more pass and he shoves them into you. You audibly gasp into his neck and he just watches you, dazed at you crumbling under him. Your own hand continues to press him against your tummy, encouraging him to rut onto you.

“Stop,” your response is strong given your labored breathing. He stops the glide of his fingers but gives one final tap to that spongey spot that always leaves you humming. You glare at him as you untangle your wrist from his hold to push him onto his back.

Swinging your leg over his hips, you straddle him as his hands on your thighs steady you. Pushing you your underwear to the side, you hold him in place as you lower onto him. His fingers dig into your hips as you drop. There’s that warmth he needed.

Fully seated, you lean forward placing your forehead against his. He was sure you were going in for a kiss. If you needed a kiss, he figured he could give you that. He mouth parts, waiting for your move, only for you to whisper against his lips, “Fuck your princess.”

Well, fuck him if that didn’t make something in his head switch on. He brought up his legs, using the purchase the bed gave his feet and started pumping into you. You bounced atop him, your arms wrapping around his neck. The needy little moans spilling out of you and onto his lips, as your fingers tangled into his hair. He could feel you clenching around him and he knew he had you. Reaching a hand over, he rubbed at that little pearl, tapping at it on every downstroke. You finally broke with a choked yelp and he felt your vice grip surround him.

“Take it. Take it,” he babbles as your walls flutter around him, urging his balls to pull up, and let go. He heard your little squeak as he held you to him, shooting what had to be a week’s worth of cum. He feels you kiss him as he pumps into you. He knew you needed that. As he came down, you milked him a couple of times, squeezing gently as you laid on his chest.

Rolling off of him, you turn to him, his eyes closed and his breathing quieting.

“Still cold?” He chuckles at your question, licking his lips and turning towards you.

“It wouldn’t be such a problem, if your other one didn’t insist on hogging the covers.” Sighing, you read his comment for what it is. Ransom would never ask to be held. Ransom doesn’t need you.

“It’s not that you’re cold. You’re actually hot. You’re a furnace. You don’t retain heat, you radiate it.” He smirks at your analysis, readying a smart comeback, you cut him off, “Go take a shower.”

He snickers before sitting up and searching for his underwear that’s bunched at the bottom of the bed. Purposely bending in front of you to bring his boxer briefs up, he makes sure you get a show of it. He knew you needed that.

Opening the bedroom door, you hear him remark, “You can go in now, puppy.”

“Ran,” you scolded him, to which he holds his hands up and walks out.

Grabbing the duvet from the edge of the bed, you see Jake come in with a mug of what hopefully is Bucky’s freshly brewed coffee.

“Okay to come back in?” You nod at his question as he nudges the door close with his foot, before approaching you with a Yoda mug.

“Bucky is still working on breakfast. It’s French toast day. He was still dipping the toast in egg when I went down, so the coffee wasn’t ready yet. But he walked me through the whole process.” You smiled at Jake as he rambles. More than likely he’s already had his morning cup waiting to return to bed. Accepting the mug, you take a few snips before putting it down on the nightstand.

“Come back to bed,” Lifting the duvet, you reach for Jake. He doesn’t need to be told twice. Hurrying to his side of the bed, he whips his hoodie off and throws it towards his desk. Climbing in behind you, he’s quick to pull you against him. Griping your waist, he slips his hand into the front of your underwear. Hooking his hand around you, he feels your swollen lips and the stickiness of Ransom slowly leaking out of you.

“He left her here like this. She’s all puffy, but still needs something to fill her. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her,” you whimper as he gathers the little spend that has leaked out and pushes it back into you with his fingers.

Relaxing behind you, he leaves smalls kisses onto the nape of your neck. His fingers still inside you, sporadically tapping at your sweet spot.

“I love you, Jakey,” you whisper, as you begin to nod off to sleep.

Jake smiles behind you, tugging you closer, “My precious.”

@theinheriteddutchess, @buckybarnesisdaddy, @sarahdonald87

[aerialworms-art]

Oh, Dean...

@wormstacheangel asked for Stanford Era!Dean flirting with S4!Cas as their prize for donating to Misha's Demine Ukraine fundraiser in @sailorsally and @lamiasage's art raffle!

(Image ID under cut)

[Image ID: A digital painting in a semi-cartoony style of Dean and Castiel sitting together in a diner booth. Dean is wearing his leather jacket, a black t-shirt, the samulet, his mother's ring, and dark blue nail polish. Cas is in his season 4 trenchcoat outfit. Dean has his arm around Cas' shoulders, leaning in close, and is saying "So, is future me as charming as I am?" Cas is glaring at him.

There's a half-eaten plate of pie on the table in front of them; Dean's fork has been moved, Cas' has been not. On the wall behind them are a couple of records and a calendar with a picture of a young Jensen Ackles, shirtless, modeling a white cowboy hat. The calendar reads "Sept 2004". /End ID]