#thirsty jensen is thirsty

[bluemerakis]

being approached by a tipsy soldier boy at a bar while playing pool with your friends, large palm edging into the corner of your vision as he cups the rim of the pool table with intent. his large frame hovers beside you at a distance far enough to be considered mindful—but not shy—the cool beer bottle he’s got in clutch ghosts up your back as he casually beckons for your attention. his lips find your ear almost effortlessly, a charming smirk perking the corner of his lips once you spare him a glance over your shoulder.

“next game’s on me, sweetheart,” he declares loudly through the bustling atmosphere, hot breath caressing your temple while the scent of one-too-many beers strangle your senses. he’s intoxicatingly bold, that’s for sure. “if i win, there’s a bathroom round back that you ‘nd i can get real cosy in. but if you win, feel free to tell me to fuck off like every other sorry dickhead who’s tried their luck this evenin’.”

you’re an inch away from being nose-to-nose with the unknown, albeit attractive man, but for some reason, you don’t attempt to put any space between your bodies. if anything, there’s a magnetic air to him that keeps you drawn in—close and personal—like a planet doomed to crash into the centre of it all.

was that what he was—trouble? you don’t need to ponder that question for long, not when you’re close enough to study every hypnotising feature on his face—the devilish look to his eyes, the beckoning glint to his perfect teeth, and the way his lips hover ever so loosely, like he’s waiting to claim a taste of you.

and just for tonight, you’re offering.

you angle your torso to face him more directly, but he doesn’t move to give you the space. doesn’t even attempt to. and he’s got a lazy, lopsided smirk plastered to his lips as he studies your every feature, head tilting slightly, like he’s just waiting for your inevitable fall into his arms.

“please,” you huff mockingly, hand clutching your pool stick firmly. “i come here enough to know who’s the reigning champion of the game, and it’s kinda hard to miss your face when it’s plastered to the posters stuck in every corner of this joint,” you point out. “you’ll win me for sure.”

he listens closely, head subtly lowering into your space—like he’s latching onto your every word, and then cocks an eyebrow at your statement that tells you he has zero intent to be humble about his title.

“well, that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, now would it, sweetheart?” he drawls with a throaty chuckle, chin perking as he glares you down with silent resolve. “c��mon, all i’m askin’ is that ya entertain a bored man on an even more borin’ night—i’ll take it easy on ya. promise,” he adds with a sly wink, gaze narrowing expectantly as he lifts his beer to his lips for a greedy swig.

for a moment, neither one of you say anything further, but the air between you thickens with the silent tension. you return his calculating stare with your own, like you’re weighing the risks of his offer. not that it mattered, really, because the answer had already been decided. you’d come here for a night of fun, and you’d be damned to let the first exhilarating opportunity slip away.

“okay,” you say finally, head tilting mischievously as your hand tightens around the tip of the pool stick. “challenge accepted,” you chirp, to which he raises his half-emptied bottle in a triumphant cheers. “but don’t you dare take it easy on me,” you add with a challenging smirk, your hand making a suggestive stroke down the stick. “i can handle myself. i’m not a sore loser, but i am a generous winner.”

his eyes track your motion intently, his motives rather focused despite the way his pupils are blown wide with liquor and irrationality alike. he drags his lazy stare back up to eye-level, the corner of his lips quirking. “was only ever being courteous, doll,” he says lowly, finally pushing himself from the support of the table.

he twists around briefly to grab a stick from the opposite table before facing you with a jut of his chin. “my bad for thinkin’ that a gal like you needs the easy handout. i’ll be sure to sport my fuckin’ a-game,” he says with a wink, shifting to brush past you before he reappears at your other side. his lips find your ear once more, beer-adorned hand coming up to brush your hair out of gloat’s way. “easiest win o’ the night,” he murmurs smugly before retreating from your space with the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth.

you whip around to face him with an amused shake of your head. “oh, it’s so fucking on,” you chuckle in disbelief, the grip on your pool stick firming up.

“now that’s what i’m fuckin’ talkin’ ‘bout!” he says loudly—like he’s announcing it to the rest of the bar. a few heads turn to look, but he doesn’t spare them a second of the night. he’s got all his focus on you. and his gaze doesn’t once stray, not even has he brings his beer to his lips to drown what thawed beverage remains to free his hands for the game.

and then it finally commences.

he didn’t go easy on you, that’s for sure. hell, he doesn’t even go easy on you now as he practically drags you along to the bar’s bathroom, large hand clasped around your wrist. his free hand comes forward to push the door open, and it swings back in an effortless surrender before he slips inside and you’re tugged along after him like a dog on a leash.

he spins around and pulls you into his torso with a practised ease, taking full advantage of your position to reverse you into the door until it slams shut like a blaring announcement to all the bar’s inhabitants to stay clear of this space. your back presses against the cool wood, his hands trailing from your waist to grip at the hems of your dress, where he tugs until it’s lifted over your head. it’s tossed aside almost instantly before his hands find your underwear, and his lips dive in to find the skin of your neck.

his lips slur kisses along the flushed skin while his fingers hook into your waistband, tugging in a notion for you to shed the coverage. he breaks away only to allow the shimmy of your legs, your lace bottoms pooling at your feet before he dives right back in to claim ownership of your lips with a kiss that leaves you utterly ruined. his hands slither back up to your hips to grip and squeeze the fat, eventually pulling you from the kind support of the door.

he breaks off the kiss with an impatient grunt, twirling you around and ushering you toward the counter with a palm to the small of your back. your hips collide with the rim, and he wastes no time in bending your bare body over the cool marble, your stomach pressed flat against the surface.

“now ain’t this a familiar view,” he laughs darkly, hand gliding up your back to hook a finger under your bra. “help a man out, would ya, doll?” he asks with a pointed yank of the clasp.

normally, you’re content to let men suffer and figure it out. but right now, you’re impatient and squirming, eager to have your own win of the night. so obediently, you twist your hands backwards to grab ahold of your bra’s clasp, where you work to undo it while his touch retreats and he shifts behind you to match your effort in undoing his belt.

it’s not long before his erection slips between your thighs and burrows into the slicked heat of your cunt, the cramped space echoing with the strained grunt that brews in his throat. his hands take up grip on either hip as he hollows you out with the first of his thrusts, the motion brutal as it snaps your lower half into the counter.

“you’re a mess down here,” he chuckles, the sound somewhat impressed. “a hot, wet mess. thought you seemed all worked up out there. guess you’re more o’ a sore loser than ya thought,” he adds with a satisfied scoff, squeezing your hips to add to his point before he pulls your body further his exploration and thrusts up into you.

you let out a broken gasp as your cheek presses against the marble, eyes fluttering closed around the sensation of your walls being stretched out—his to mould whichever way he pleases. and he seems hellbent on doing just that—internally branding you.

he glides one delicate hand over the curve of your ass before settling at the small of your back, where he presses your stomach into the countertop to maximise the pressure he’s subjecting you to. the sensation is godsent in combination with his thrusts, and you find yourself clenching around his every movement.

“told ya you’d be the easiest win o’ the night,” he taunts lowly—the sound strained and slightly breathless.

you strangle a moan before finding your tongue. “i’m not easy,” you protest indignantly, but the sound comes out weak. flustered. your palms find purchase atop the slippery field of marble as you arch your hips into his with enough force to temporarily subdue his thrusts, lifting your cheek to cast a challenging glare over your shoulder.

he meets your stare with one of warning, but the gesture hardly has time to translate before the hand on your back glides up your bare skin and over your shoulder, where it wraps around the front of your neck. there, his grip on you firms up enough to choke the air—and the nerve—right out of you, before he uses the unfair leverage to tug you off the countertop.

your back crashes back into his clothed chest, the contrast in modesty burning your cheeks hot. but the grasp on your throat doesn’t leave you enough air to complain—about the crudeness of it all, or about the way he’s gripping you as surely as he’d held his pool stick during the last round.

his head lowers to your level, his lips wrapping around the lobe of your ear for a quick nibble before retreating to whisper, “you’re easy enough.”

your hands wrap around the arm that imprisons you, your throat bopping beneath his grip with the silent plea for air. but he’s surprisingly quick to relent as he finally loosens his hold on you, hand tracing over your collar bone and across your breast for a snarky squeeze before he shifts to bend you over the counter once more.

“you look better bent over the bathroom counter than you do over the pool table—sure as hell perform better here, too,” he remarks suddenly, hands finding a steadying grip at your waist as his thrusts make a brutal comeback. he lifts a hand only to whip it across your ass cheek in a spank, urging a strangled moan from your lips. it’s a sound ridiculous enough to make him chuckle before he rubs a soothing line over the skin, almost gentle enough to make you believe it was an apology.

“not a sore loser, huh?” he recalls your words from earlier. “i want ya to show me that ya ain’t all talk, sweetheart. i want you to come for me—all over my fuckin’ dick. can ya do that for me, hm?”

you wince at the rapid pace he adapts, and the way he seems to excavate your core like a starved man searching for gold—like he’s already made up his mind for you. your palms sprawl across the counter before you, your vision becoming blurry with the mingle of pain and pleasure that burns your eyes teary. at this rate, it’s not if you can come completely undone for him—it’s when, and how many times.

“god—yes,” you sputter out breathlessly, your walls clenching around him with every second that passes.

“atta girl,” he praises gruffly, fingers tightening into the flesh of your hips as he drives your body into the counter. “god, you feel so fuckin’ good. so fuckin’ tight,” he breathes into the space, folding over at the waist to press himself against your back—like you’re finally wearing him out for a change. his jaw finds the slope of your shoulder as he settles his full weight over you, but his pace below doesn’t stutter. it wouldn’t dare. “knew i was right to take a fuckin’ chance on ya. prettiest girl in the room with a cunt slicker than any o’ my shittiest pickup lines. gonna come inside o’ ya—fill ya up real good. you want that, huh?” he grunts against your slick skin.

you utter a string of moans in acknowledgment, but your high is too close to allow any tangible words to part your lips. you’re overwhelmed with the pleasure, your body completely surrendering to him with a malleability that rocks your forms in unison. it’s a clear enough answer that has him grunting with every thrust, desperately chasing the high that’ll finally snap the string that winds both your bodies taut.

and then his tip finds your cervix in one final bruising motion, forcing a broken gasp from your lips. “oh, fuck!” you breathe out, and he harmonises with his own broken grunt, the grip on your body bruising as he latches onto something—anything that’ll ground him in the midst of his climax.

“jesus fuckin’ christ,” he pants against you, one hand releasing your waist as he lifts it to brush back the hair cascading over your collapsed head. he lets out a soft chuckle as he catches a glimpse of your red-tinted cheeks, his head tilting to get a better view of the absolute mess he’s reduced you to. “now that’s what i call a real fuckin’ win,” he says haughtily. “looks like i’m two-for-one this evenin’.”

“so charmingly humble,” you scoff weakly against the counter.

he leans in to place a kiss on your neck before retreating from your proximity, leaving your back bare and exposed. the inner of your thighs are slick with the mingle of your juices, seeping through the crevices of your plugged entrance like a testament to the pleasurable moment. for a few seconds, he hovers within your warmth, hands lingering against your back, before he finally pulls himself from your entrance with more caution than he’d exercised this entire evening.

behind you, the sound of his belt clinks into the space as he makes himself proper, and you push yourself off of the counter to face him. he catches your eye with a douchey smirk, hand coming forward to pinch your chin.

“you’re a shitty soloist, sweetheart,” he says, and your face contorts with an affronted expression, but he cuts you off before you’re afforded a comeback. “but a goddamn good team-player. i’d wish you better luck next time, but for my sake, i hope you suck just as much.”

he drops a suggestive wink before releasing your chin, briefly trailing his knuckles down your jaw before turning his back on you. he reaches for the bathroom door, clicking it open and slipping through the crack without so much as a second glance back.

a/n. not proof read soz

[mercurial-chuckles]

Thirsty Thursday Thought!

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

Indulge Away!

****

Your heart leapt into a whole new tempo the moment you saw him enter the banquet hall, looking absolutely gorgeous in that blue suit with that white shirt, that perfectly accentuated his Adonis-like frame.

Fucking hell! He was scorching you like a midday sun in the Sahara desert.

His thick hair swayed slightly with the way he moved. You bet everyone looked at him appreciatively, and if you had super hearing, you could probably hear the dreamy sighs. He, on the other hand, was unbothered by the attention. You noticed a frown marred his perfect face, his jaw clenched as his eyes sorted through the crowd, looking, searching.

You licked your lips, gulping down the contents of the glass before you to soothe your parched throat. His eyes searched closer to the table you were standing at, and the moment they met your gaze, he stopped in his tracks. His frown quickly turned into a barely-there grin, and a smirk slowly formed. The intensity of his gaze glued you to the spot, and you watched him equally unwavering.

He quickly pulled out his phone, momentarily losing eye contact, typed furiously into it, and a few seconds later, your phone buzzed. Your eyes widened, and your smile faltered in shock when you read the message. Your thighs clenched as slick coated your panties.

You've got five minutes. Wrap it up, or I don't care if there's an audience while I eat you up till you can't stand straight.

You gulped, quickly excusing yourself from the conversation with the two others at your table, you walked towards him as gracefully as you could muster under his intense stare, full of dirty promises. Of promises that you were entirely aware he would cater because your man knows how to love you delicately while fucking you sinfully.

****

Who's this man gonna be for you, lovely?

Well, that's all for this Thirsty Thursday Thought! You've got a thot? Feel free to share!

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

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[jarpadandjensens]

J2 | Dccon 24 | Jared is thirsty

[properiguana]

It cracks me up that they supposedly got Jack on the show, because they were worried about the cast getting old and uncool for young audience.

Like Jensen isn’t still the hottest man alive. Be for real now.

[amialunatic]

Personally, the only thing I want is to watch supernatural with someone who won't give me side eye for randomly saying "God, he's so hot" because the winchesters be looking fine.

Believe me, I do care about them as complicated characters with traumas and faults, but sometimes it's just omfg I want him rn.

[unprofessionalprofessionalbinger]

Mark of Cain dean has no business being so hot.

Like yes, throw me across the room idc.

[waxingwinchester]

mark meachum requests?

[djappleblush]

Is anyone still taking requests for Dean Winchester x Witch!Reader????? Because I have a request and fic idea!!!! Please, PM me if you're interested. I am feral for Dean and a witch reader pairing.

[coleydc58]

No notes. Head empty. I just want to rub my face on his like a cat. Whoops. Move along. Nothing to see here.

[peppermintschnapps]

sooooooooo anyone care to explain to me why like 50% of the posts in "the boys" tumblr fandom are noncon reader/homelander fics

[serpentandflame]

Jensen may end up being our best selling candle in 2023. Guess we'll have to see what the fancy pants analytics say at the end of the year. If you'd like one, we just added a few more to our website.

[unprofessionalprofessionalbinger]

It's so hot how pissy Dean gets whenever Cas is harmed or in danger. Just watched 5x8 (the episode where Gabriel brings Dean and Sam into 'TV land')

Best plan on earth would be to kidnap Cas somehow and wait for Dean to find you. You'll get pissy Dean and Cas in one fucking place. Also, Dean mad at me? Don't gaf. The man still looks fine as hell.

Suddenly I'm Sam doing something so stupid Dean slaps me. Suddenly I become a supernatural creature so he calls me a bitch and punches me.

I can't defend this. It's not even late. Dean is just hot. Jensen is hot. That's it.

[nightxcreature]

Kiss me, touch me, love me, fuck me, KILL ME. 😩😩😩 Dean Winchester, I NEED YOU. 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

guys… look at his mouth and tongue

HES DOING THE SAME THING

[xx-dinah-writing-xx]

just watched a video of Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki answering questions during their panel with Jared’s son constantly calling him from backstage and it was just so cute. I need a Matt version because it would honestly melt my heart 🫠

Six times Max crashed Matt’s interview

Matt Smith x reader

Fluff

————

1. The Goat Plushie Cameo

Matt was midway through a charming interview, talking about his experiences on House of the Dragon, when Max’s tiny voice cut through the background noise.

“Daddy!”

The camera slightly shook as a toddler burst onto the set, clutching his beloved goat plushie. Max toddled over to Matt and climbed straight into his lap as if this were completely normal.

“Max, mate, I’m working,” Matt said, holding back a laugh.

Max, unfazed, held up his plushie. “Goaty wants to say hi!”

The interviewer melted on the spot. “Is this Goaty?”

Matt nodded, lifting the toy for the camera. “This is Goaty. He’s been through everything. Adventures, naps, and apparently interviews now.”

Max grinned. “Goaty likes dragons.”

“Well, lucky for Goaty, I’m a Targaryen,” Matt joked, giving Max’s hair a playful ruffle before turning back to the interviewer. “Sorry, this happens a lot.”

Max sat on Matt’s lap for the rest of the interview, nodding along as if he understood every word.

2. Max’s Cookie Break with Olivia Cooke

Matt and Olivia Cooke were sitting side by side on a talk show, bantering about their characters’ complicated dynamics when Max decided to crash.

He wandered onstage with a half-eaten cookie in hand and crumbs trailing behind him. “Daddy, you said you were gonna get me milk!”

The audience burst into laughter as Matt sighed dramatically. “Max, we talked about this. Daddy’s working!”

“But I’m thirsty!” Max whined, climbing onto his dad’s lap and smearing crumbs everywhere.

Olivia couldn’t stop laughing. “You’re raising a food critic, Matt.”

“Apparently,” Matt muttered, brushing crumbs off his trousers. “Alright, mate, I’ll get you milk in a bit, okay?”

Max wasn’t satisfied. He turned to Olivia. “Aunt Liv, do you have milk?”

She grinned, leaning down to his level. “No milk, but I’ve got jokes. Want to hear one?”

Max nodded, temporarily distracted as Olivia entertained him while Matt shook his head fondly.

3. The “Where’s Goaty?” Crisis

Matt, Fabien Frankel, and Emma D’Arcy were gathered for a YouTube Q&A session when Max’s panicked cry came from the side.

“Daddy! I lost Goaty!”

Matt froze mid-sentence, turning toward the sound. “Oh no, not Goaty again.”

Fabien, trying to keep a straight face, leaned into the mic. “This sounds like a serious emergency.”

“It is a serious emergency,” Matt replied, already standing up. “Hang on, let me solve this.”

He walked off-camera briefly and returned moments later with Max in one arm and Goaty in the other. “Crisis averted,” he announced dramatically, handing the plushie back to Max.

Max, beaming, waved at the cast. “Thank you, daddy! Uncle Fabs!” he screeched and stretched his hands towards Fabien.

Fabien chuckled. “C’mere buddy.”

4. Max’s “Dragon Drawing” Surprise for Emma

During a sit-down interview with Emma D’Arcy, Max marched onto the set holding a piece of paper covered in colorful scribbles.

“Daddy! Emmy! Look what I made!”

Matt sighed but smiled, patting his lap. “Alright, mate, show us.”

Max climbed up and proudly held out his drawing. “It’s a dragon!”

Emma gasped theatrically, taking the paper. “Max, this is amazing. Is this my dragon?”

Max nodded excitedly. “Sylwax breathes fire!”

Matt leaned over to inspect the drawing. “Looks like Syrax has been hitting the gym too. Look at those muscles.”

The audience roared with laughter as Emma held up the picture. “This is going on my fridge, Max.”

“Really?” Max asked, eyes wide.

“Absolutely,” Emma said seriously. “Best dragon I’ve ever seen.”

5. Max’s Weather Update

Matt was halfway through a funny story about filming in heavy costumes when Max wandered into the room, his toddler stance now visible in the back of Matt’s computer screen.

“Daddy, it’s raining!” he announced, pointing toward the windows.

The host laughed, leaning toward slightly. “Is it raining in London, Max? What do you think we should do about that?”

Max considered for a moment. “Stay inside.”

Matt groaned, pulling Max onto his lap. “Brilliant advice, Max. Thank you for the update.”

The host grinned. “Max, do you think your dad likes working in the rain?”

Max shook his head. “No. He gets grumpy.”

Matt buried his face in his hands. “Thrown under the bus by my own kid. Cheers, mate.”

6. Max Hosts His Own Interview

During a live-streamed red carpet interview, Matt was answering questions when Max suddenly appeared at his side, holding a tiny microphone toy.

“I’m the inteviwee now!” Max declared confidently, shoving the toy mic toward Matt’s face.

The actual interviewer stepped back, laughing. “Alright, Max, take it away.”

Max squinted at his dad. “Daddy, do you like dragons?”

Matt bit back a grin. “I do, Max. Do you?”

Max nodded seriously. “But they’re scary. What’s your favorite dragon?”

Matt played along. “What kind of questions have you prepared dude? Caraxes, obviously. Big and powerful.”

Max leaned into the toy mic dramatically. “I like baby dragons better.”

Matt chuckled, scooping him up. “Fair enough, mate. You’re a tough interviewer.”

The real interviewer chimed in. “Max, do you think your dad is a good actor?”

Max tilted his head, pretending to think. “Sometimes.”

Matt groaned. “That’s my cue to retire.”

[anundyingfidelity]

400 followers ask: Jensen and reader on a red carpet or something and they start to like each other after filming the boys but they're too scared to admit it. The reader kiss him first (Jensen is single obv) 🥺 thank you!

absolutely!!! i'm happy to write a drabble for jensen, this was a cute idea, hope you like it :)

event guidelines ✮ event masterlist ✮

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

CONFESSIONS — Jensen Ackles x female reader

Word count: 526 (oopsie lol).

Genre: fluffy stuff.

Warnings: none.

Jensen flashed you a charming smile, making your cheeks heat and your legs tremble slightly. Since you arrived at the red carpet along with the cast, Jensen wouldn’t leave your side. When shooting, he made a good friendship with you and after not seeing each other for some time you were stuck together without even noticing, going out and meeting at yours or his place.

During the event, you couldn’t shake the thought of his clinginess towards you. Him taking your hand once you had a short interview, you wrapping your arm around his own while walking, the way he placed his hand on your hip for photos… Jensen never got away from your side. You just wanted to kiss him and confess those feelings that flourished while on set.

Standing by his side behind the theater, your co-stars and team gathered together before leaving for the after party. And being honest, anyone with two good eyes could tell you were a couple. Bad news, you were only very good friends.

“I need some water, I’ll be back,” you announced to him through the bustle of your co-stars.

“I’ll go with you,” Jensen offered, gently taking your hand and guiding you to a break room far away from the noise.

You couldn’t really explain how he made you feel every time he grabbed your hand. Any inch of his skin touching yours left you breathless and your stomach flipping, your skin warm because of the proximity.

Once you arrived at the empty break room, you poured yourself a glass of water. He beamed as you calmed down the thirsty feeling quickly.

“Want some?” you offered.

He shook his head and his precious eyes traveled from your beautiful face, down to your dress hugging your figure perfectly. He gave you that look before but he never said anything. You had to know what was going on before lying to yourself.

“You know, I was thinking about us,” you started.

“Like how?” his brows furrowed but you could see a playful sparkle on his gaze.

 “Like we talk a lot, we go out, you hug me a lot, we talk about life, you can’t let me go today, and honestly, I feel like I know you like the back of my hand…”

Jensen bit his lips, his eyes moving down to your lips. “I don’t know, it’s a habit I guess.”

You let out a soft chuckle, taking a step closer. You almost felt his chest against yours and the heat radiating. “Really? That’s your excuse?”

“You tell me,” he whispered, his lips an invitation to taste them.

In a heartbeat, you pulled him for a soft kiss, one of your hands around his neck as the other cupped his bearded cheek. Jensen gripped your waist to pull you closer, his hand resting on your hip until you were out of breath.

“Well, I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“Me too,” Jensen smiled softly, his free hand caressing your cheek. “Should’ve said it sooner.”

“Nah, I said it and kissed you first. That’s a gold medal,” you grinned.

He pecked your lips again. It was indeed.

[gremlin-girly]

Congrats on 250 followers!!

May I please 🍑 request:

Jake Jensen, question(s) 3 and/or 12: 3. "How much have you had to drink?" 12. "Do you taste as pretty as you look?", with trope 19. Sex pollen/fuck or die?

(#12 screamed Jake to me the second I read it. 🤣)

Hello my lovely! Thank you so much! Ohoho this was fun. I've actually had a sexpollen idea with him in my notes but never knew how to start. Now I do 🤭

Quote 12 may scream Jake because it was a quote cut from Space Cakes 👀😂

I hope I've done this justice for you 💕💕

Needs and Wants

Pairing: Jake Jensen x F!reader

Tags/warnings: SMUT, sex pollen (in the beer), dub-con (bc it's a sex pollen - but it is consensual), no-thoughts-head-empty kinda fucking, p-in-v (wrap it), multiple orgasm (both male and female), oral (f recieving), creampie (but no pregnancy worries), masterbation (f described), confessions of sorts, mutual masterbation, petnames (babe)

Not beta'd and I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Quotes: "How much have you had to drink?" + "Do you taste as pretty as you look?"

Summary: Whilst out on a mission, you and Jake find some bottles of what appears to be beer of some kind squirreled away in one of the hideouts and decide to break into it...

Word count: N/a but knowing me ~3k

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

Part of the 20s Challenge

Navigation | 20s Masterlist | Jake Jensen Masterlist

Recon missions were always so boring. Thankfully, after a long day you and Jake were dismissed by Clay and told to take a load off. You were finishing packing up the gear when Jake appeared carrying something in his arms.

"Hey, lookie what I found." Jake blows the dust off an old case of what looks like beer. You cough and fan dust from your face and eye the case suspiciously. "Celebratory drink?"

"Where did you find those?" You ask, pulling one out and turning the bottle in your hands. There's only one label and it's not in English.

Jake shrugs. "Under the floorboards."

"We're going to drink floorboard beer?" You scoff, looking up at him quizzically.

"Beer is beer," Jake grins, popping the cap off his beer with the table edge. "And it's for another job well done."

You can't help but sigh with a smile and clink your bottle against his. "Fair point. Cheers."

An hour and a bit later, you're lying on your bed feeling a little too hot for comfort. Jake had already opened a window, but it wasn't helping in the slightest. Now you were considering stripping down to your underwear.

"How much have you had to drink?" You ask Jake looking over the table to him. His leg was jumping erratically and it kept drawing your attention to his legs.

Somehow, in the short space of time you'd gone from celebrating your mission with your attractive teammate to wanting to kiss, lick and suck any part of his body you could get your mouth on. The change was so subtle that it had your head spinning with thoughts of what had happened to cause this sudden shift in your body. Was it something he said? Something he did? You'd always liked Jake; he'd welcomed you to the team easily, and despite being a terrible flirt, was so sweet and funny you couldn't help but smile around him.

And God his legs looked so fucking good in those jeans.

"Uhh... third?" He says thickly, leg still jumping wildly.

"Jesus," you huff, looking away. You beg for the impure thoughts to stop. "Thirsty?"

"Yeah. Fuck, it's so hot." Jake groans, running his hands over his face. Wasn't that groan just the sexiest sound you'd ever heard?

"I've already put the air con on the lowest setting." You tell him, fanning yourself. You'd been starting to feel a little feverish too but you were sure it had to be an alcohol-flush from the beer. "And the windows are open."

"You okay?" Jake asks worriedly, glancing at you.

You try to give him a smile, your eyes locking with his. "Yeah - I'm just really fucking hot."

Jake wets his lips and his eyes drop to your mouth, then lower again to your cleavage sitting in your tank top. "Yeah."

"What?" You can feel heat roll up your body and it feels blistering.

"What? Oh." Jake's eyes snap back up to your face. "Sorry. Um. God. I can't think straight."

"Tell me about it." You grumble, tearing your eyes away from him and settling on your bed. A stray thought ekes it's way in; crawling under the covers naked, a hand between your legs, back arched in ecstasy. You're clit aches against your jeans and you have to stifle a gasp. However, now that thought as taken root, it blooms another; naked and moaning into your pillow, while Jake pummels you from behind.

You're grasping your thigh so hard you think you're going to cut off circulation. "Oh fuck this," you hiss getting to your feet. "I'm gonna try and take a nap."

"Mm. Good idea." Jake nods curtly before standing suddenly. "I'm gonna try a cold shower to take the edge off."

"Cool. Tell me if it works." You pant, rushing to the bed, not even waiting to hear the door of the bathroom slam as you strip completely naked and crawl under the covers.

As soon as you hear the water rushing, your fingers find refuge between your thighs. You gasp as your fingers brush your clit, electricity racing through every nerve that's not pleasurable but painful. You fight back a pained gasp, fingers spreading your sticky folds open, shocked to find you're soaked and pulsing with need. Even though it hurts you can't bare the thought to stop touching yourself, two fingers dipping into your cunt, curling and pumping desperate for some release.

Your mind's eye goes back to Jake; sweat sheened and fucking you with such force the headboard slams against the wall. Letting a soft curse fall from your lips you move your fingers back to your abandoned nub, using your cum-coated fingers to circle it hurriedly, chasing an orgasm you hoped would arrive soon.

Your breathing hitches, your pussy convulses.... but nothing happens. Where an orgasm should be there's nothing but an excruciating need to cum and a heat that won't cool.

You want to cry. Why was this happening? What was wrong with you? If you didn't get this under control Jake would most certainly not want to be your friend if he caught you fucking yourself like this... unless?

Your mind wanders again, slow, lazy circles around your clit this time. Would Jake's fingers feel rough against your clit? Would he know how to make you scream his name? Would he put that mouth to good use for once?

A call of your name tears you from your imagination and you rip your hand from your clit. The pain that shoots through you almost makes you cry out, but you smother it into a strangled, "yeah?"

"Don't freak out but," Jake's voice echoes from the bathroom. "I-I've got an issue that won't go away."

Tell me about it, you think as you grip your pillow like a lifeline, your clit pulsing angrily. It hurts so much you want to pass out.

"What is it?"

"Just please don't freak out." Jake's face peeks out of the bathroom. His skin and hair is damp and his face is flushed red, just like yours is.

"I won't." You promise, fighting the urge to scream into your pillow.

The door opens fully and Jake is naked apart from his boxers, which have a clear outline of his throbbing cock and a dark patch just above the tip from his pre-cum.

You suck in a quick breath, watching his dick jump almost as angrily as your clit pulses and how his ragged breathing makes the muscles on his taut stomach shudder.

You can feel a new, cooler, gush of arousal from your pussy and you groan fully, releasing the pillow to press your palms into your eyes.

"I tried making it... go away." Jake grits out, clearly flustered. "But-"

"It hurts so bad," you finish for him. Jake's eyes widen and his already red face changes a shade darker. "Everytime I-I touch my p-pussy it feels like it's on fucking f-fire and I can't cum."

You cross your legs firmly, twitching under the blanket at every pulse.

"It's the same with me," Jake huffs. "Putting my boxers back on almost made me pass out."

There's a moment of silence and you peek over at Jake from under your hands. His Adam's apple bobs thickly and you can feel his gaze settle on you, that need for him you'd been feeling feels almost crushing now.

You both look at eachother for a long moment.

"Please tell me you're thinking what I'm thinking," Jake looks at you pleadingly, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "Because I don't think I can handle this."

"Are you thinking about fucking till we pass out?" You ask plainly, watching Jake's cock swell in his boxers.

"Yeah." Jake breathes.

"Thank fuck." You sigh, kicking your comforter down to your feet. "I thought I was going crazy."

Jake crosses the room in seconds, tugging his boxers to his ankles. The cool air against the heat of his cock makes it bob and he sighs with soft relief, blue eyes roaming your naked body from behind his glasses.

"Jesus fuck you look good." He rumbles, looking like he doesn't even know where to begin.

Ever impatient, you grab for his hands and tug him down to you.

"So do you but right now I do not care. I need you to touch me."

Jake complies, letting you wrap a hand around his cock whilst his fingers slip into your dripping hole easily. There's no words exchanged as you work eachother; your hand pumping and squeezing his cock and coating it in his sticky pre-cum and his fingers curling in just the right spot, before using his thumb to swipe over your swollen clit.

Your walls clench hard, orgasm pending again, but it wasn't enough.

"Jake - shit - I don't think this is enough." You half sob, tears forming along your lower lash line.

"What do you want me to do?" Jake urges, not stopping his fingers from pleasing you.

"I don't care! Anything!" You cry, hips lifting from the bed. "I just need you."

Jake's fingers are suddenly void from your cunt and you gasp a sob. This was agony.

The bed beneath you shifts and you can feel Jake's hands grip your thighs, holding the twitching limbs wide open and exposing your cunt to him.

"Whatever this is, I'm just glad I get an answer to a question that's been bothering me for a while." He says quietly, eyes trailing from your cunt to your flushed, panting face.

"What?" You sniff.

"Do you taste as pretty as you look?" Jake's tongue is cool as it presses flat against your slit, dragging upwards so he can lap and suckle at your clit. Your hips jerk into his face at the sensation and a scream rips from your lungs surprising you both. Jake peeks up at you and when your eyes meet he presses a kiss to your clit, you body vibrating with want.

"Oh my God." Your half sobbing but instead of pain it's intense pleasure. "Jake you're gonna make me cum."

"Good." Jake mumbles, burying his face into your pussy, lapping and sucking at all of your juices until you finally cum with a load moan, body shaking violently.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your need to cum ebbing slightly, relief short-lived but welcomed. Jake's face rises from between your legs, his tongue swiping at your cum on his chin. His eyes are almost black but he's got his signature goofy grin plastered on his face.

"Feel better?"

"Yeah." You breathe. "You?"

Jake sits on his haunches, looking down with a shrug. Your eyes follow suit. White ropes of his cum cover his still hard, still twitching cock. Your pussy squeezes around nothing at the sight, that need building again.

"Jake," you murmur. "I need you to fuck me."

Jake's breath catches and he looks up at you in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty fuckin' positive Jensen." You grit out, shifting on your back with a grumble.

There's hesitation for a brief moment, but when Jake moves forward, the tip of his cock brushing your wet folds you both gasp a sigh of relief and ecstasy. The pleasure that bursts through your core makes you take immediate initiative. You angle your hips, throwing your legs over his hips and tug him forward.

Jake moans loudly as he falls forward, buried balls deep as your pussy shudders around his cock. His hands plant themselves either side of your head and his eyes are glossy, when they meet yours, his glasses hanging haphazardly. You reach up and fix them for him. There's something far more intimate about fixing his glasses than him being inside you and you savour the moment, brushing his sweat-drenched hair back. Were his eyes always so blue?

Jake whispers your name, dipping his head down and tentatively kissing your lips. When he pulls back, your hand finds the back of his head and brings him to your lips again. The kisses move from sweet to sloppy in seconds, the both of you unable to stave off the desire brewing again. Jake begins to move his hips, rutting into you hard and fast; like you'd imagined earlier and soon you're both gasping for air.

"I- I think-" Jake stammers but you smother his statement with a kiss, letting the wet sounds of your bodies fill the room.

"IUD," you say, voice strained. "Please, just keep fucking me. Your cock is better than your fingers and tongue."

"Whatever you want." Jake murmurs, slamming his cock into you so hard you see stars. Your pussy tightens and Jake's hands grip at your hips, forcing himself onto his knees to keep you steady as he fucks into you faster.

Another orgasm builds and you whine pitifully, stretching your legs up to Jake's shoulders which he takes in stride, leaning forward to pound you at a new, deeper angle that makes his brain white out as your cunt milks him greedily. Strings of curses are uttered as your walls flutter and gush over his cock, prompting him to paint your insides with his cum.

Dropping your legs, Jake collapses on top of you heaving deep breaths. You pant, dazed, lying together on one small twin bed. The room reeks of sex and while the pain has subsided, replaced only by a dull ache of pleasure, Jake's cock hasn't softened and it still twitches inside of you.

"Round three?" He puffs with a grin, rolling his hips into yours lazily.

You chuckle and arch your back. You should feel embarassed or uncomfortable but you can't bring yourself to care. "Round three."

Morning light streams through the window of the safe house. It's offensively bright as you blink yourself awake with a grumble.

Jake's body is still entangled with yours beneath the sheets. You don't remember how many times you fucked last night, or who put the sheets over you both, but you do know that it was fucking excellent.

"Jake, wake up." You say gently, pushing him with your shoulder. He stirs but only enough to cuddle into you more, arms around your waist tightening and head burying into your neck.

"Five more minutes." He mumbles.

You fight back a grin. "Quite the work out last night, huh?"

You can feel his sleepy smile creep along your skin. "Yeah. I'm drained. In every sense of the word."

You snicker and wiggle closer to him. "Then I should really let you get those extra five minutes."

"Thank you, babe."

Now this was something worth getting used to. Maybe packing up a few more of those beers wouldn't go amiss either.

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