Amanda /30s/short girl in love with two very tall brothers ❤️Basically this is the only outlet I have where I can obsess over Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles without anyone judging me. Soldier Boy can get it too.
I just saw a clip of Jensen talking about how he walked into a scene and immediately walked out because he wasn't prepared for "that" and I am just so very curious (scared) for what that could be!
I hope you are enjoying Thirsty Thursday hosted by myself and @deanwinchesterswitch and I 💗 This is the last one from me...
Find previous posts here:
JDTT Masterlist
Drinking
Shades
The next subject is our man with a beard/stubble/five o’clock shadow
Let’s have...as many gifs/fics as you like!
This is meant to be a fun distraction, so please keep these posts hate-free. Also, if you’re on the tag list, you are under no obligation to add to the posts. You can simply scroll through all the scrumptious images to try and quench that thirst. Please credit image source when possible. If you would like to be added to the tag list, let one of us know.
I just saw a clip of Jensen talking about how he walked into a scene and immediately walked out because he wasn't prepared for "that" and I am just so very curious (scared) for what that could be!
A/N: Thought you could all use a fluffy drabble today so I banged this out for ya. Happy St Patrick's Day!
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The crowd was buzzing with faux Irish pride, only about ten percent of the patrons able to boast any actual connection to the Emerald Isle. But it didn’t matter- tonight, everyone was Irish. The bar was crowded three deep and the trio took turns wading through the sea of drunken green to wave down Chris, the bartender, and order more rounds.
Y/N was nursing a Guinness like it was poison, but knocking back whiskies like they were the cure.
“I hate this stuff,” she said behind a hiccup, voice carrying over the throng and across the table to Dean, who was the picture of calm with a thick, foamy mustache. “Tastes like bread!”
He laughed and licked the head from his lips. “Then why do you keep drinking it?” he yelled back, leaning over the table to get closer to her.
She shrugged and batted her lashes innocently. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just a dumb floosy at the bar tonight. Besides, everyone’s Irish on Saint Patty’s Day!”
Seated between them, Sam laughed and rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling for the thousandth time like the third, unwanted wheel on a scooter. “I’ll get you something else when I get back up,” he offered, smiling sweetly at Y/N.
She was too drunk to really care, but they were having fun. “Nah.” Pushing her chair back, she stood with the pint, downed the rest in one gulp and amazingly did not choke.
Dean watched her in awe, his green eyes wide, his plump lips gone slack. “Damn.”
Y/N slammed the empty glass down and cheered. “Whoo! Next one’s on me, boys!” She winked at Dean before turning to the bar and squaring her shoulders, preparing to fight through the noisy masses.
Dean sat back, staring at her ass as she left. He rubbed his hands down his thighs and whistled with interest. “Ya know, Sammy, tonight might be the night.”
Sam, having heard this more than a dozen times in the last two months, rolled his eyes and went diving into his beer, hoping to drown or find an escape hatch at the bottom. “Yeah, sure, Dean.”
“What? You don’t think it’ll happen? Tonight is perfect. Drinks, music, tons of people.” Dean smiled to himself, thinking of the prospects. “Maybe we’ll go for a walk later, find a quiet spot… yada yada… see what happens.”
There was no help at the bottom of his glass, just a fishbowl view of the grimey table. Sam sighed. “Sure. Just like last week and the week before and that time in Oswego when you were so sure you were gonna hook up. Give it up, Dean. She’s not into you.”
Dean took it all to heart and slumped down in his chair, crossing his arms. He pouted and then scoffed. “What do you know anyway?”
Up at the bar, Y/N was waiting for the pints to be drawn, and she herself had drawn some attention from a group of fratboys in various shades of green. One in particular, a blond with pretty blue eyes, was leaning in pretty close, the stench of whiskey and weed on his breath.
“Come on, baby,” he cooed, pressing himself against Y/N’s shoulder. “You gotta let me pinch you.”
She spun and lay a playful looking hand on his shoulder while actually pushing him back a step. “Really? And why’s that?”
He laughed. “Ya ain’t wearin’ green!”
Y/N licked her lips and gave him another shove backwards. “How do you know?”
The man ran his hand down her back and moved in again. “I don’t see nothing green on ya, sweetheart.”
She reeled him in a little closer, whispering. “Well, maybe you just can’t see it over my clothes…”
He sucked in a quick breath through puckered lips and went for it, nearly tumbling over her for a kiss.
The crack of Y/N’s palm against his cheek rang through the bar like a lightning strike.
Dean’s head popped up and his eyes narrowed. In an instant, he was at the bar, shoving people aside to get to Y/N..
She was standing in the middle of a crowd of morons, one hand on her hip, the other wagging through the air.
“Don’t you fucking touch a lady without her permission,” she snapped, glaring up at the boy like the Headmistress of a boarding school.
Blondie got smart and sneered. “I don’t see a lady here,” he barked, arms wide open, looking for a fight. Her handprint bloomed like a rose on his cheek.
Dean unclenched his fists and his jaw. “Hey! She said back up, buddy.”
“Who you calling ‘buddy’, pal?”
“I ain’t your pal,” Dean spat. “And you best take your candy-ass out of here before I paint your other cheek.”
Dean stepped in, the fratboy countered. Y/N cocked a brow, watching the display.
The asshole backed down. “Eh, she ain’t worth it anyway.”
Dean’s shoulders relaxed, but Y/N did not. Stepping between them, she cracked her fist against his other jaw, nearly knocking him over.
“I am too worth it, ya jackass!”
Sadly, Chris had no choice but to kick Y/N out of the bar, and Dean found her moments later, walking towards home in the chilly night air. Her arms were wrapped around her middle and she walked slowly, kicking at the sidewalk.
Dean shrugged off his jacket and hung it over her shoulders, startling her a bit.
“Oh! Hey…”
He smiled and stepped in front of her to close the top button lest the jacket fall off. She looked terribly small and precious in his oversized coat; too precious to be walking home alone by herself.
“Ya left without us,” he said, hoping to get a laugh.
She sighed instead. “Yeah, well… I didn’t want to ruin your night out. Not anymore than I already did, anyway.”
Dean laughed. “Ruin? Are you kidding me? Watching you beat the crap out of that guy was the highlight of the evening. Hell, of the week.” He turned and slung his arm around her, enjoying the closeness.
“He really was being a dick. You didn’t see but he was a little grabby…”
Dean skidded to a halt. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him…”
“No, no!” Y/N laughed and grabbed his flannel, turning him towards her again. “I was very impressed how you came to my rescue like that.”
He bit his lip, gazed down with hope in his eyes. “Y/N, if I know anything about you, it’s that you don’t need rescuing. But still, if he comes near you again, I will stab him in the throat.”
Another laugh knocked her head back and Dean couldn’t stand it any longer. Without a plan, without a thought, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. The moment was brief but not without the shock of truth and they both gasped when space lengthened between them.
“You… kissed me.” Her eyes were wet and her skin was flushed. Her fingers curled tighter around his flannel.
He blushed, licked his lip, dipped his chin. “I did, yeah.”
Stunned, she hung there for a long moment, eyes caressing his face, unable find any words at all.
Dean grew anxious and cleared his throat. “You’re thinkin’ about laying me out like you did that asshole, aren’t you?”
Slowly, she shook her head and smiled. “Actually, I was thinking about kissing you back…”
Their lips met under the streetlight, with the noise from the bar lost in the background. Dean wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close while she slipped her tongue between his lips, tasting, exploring, begging for more.
When she let him go, he looked down, awed and drunk and happy for the first time in a long time.
“Well, I guess today is lucky after all,” he whispered.
Y/N shook her head, laughing gently. “You’re not Irish, Dean.”
He inhaled deeply, pulling in the memory of the moment as his arms tightened around her. “Baby, tonight, we’re all Irish.”
Tell me about being in a cabin with Dean, having a calm, romantic night, and having sex while it snows outside.
Boots and Blankets and Things -
His boots were by the door. Snow was melting off the treds as the heat from the fireplace reached across the big room. The little puddle was nothing to worry about, they could clean it up later.
The thick blankets were tossed aside and rumpled beneath them; the warm wool threads frayed from years of use. They didn’t make blankets like that anymore, they were only ever found tucked away in the back of closets or stowed in car trunks in case of emergencies.
An empty whiskey bottle lay on its side on the floor, kicked over by an elbow, a foot, who’s to say? They’d drunk their fill and then some, raiding Bobby’s stash in the bedroom until they were warm and giddy, drowning in lust and rye.
Flannel shirts were balled up as pillows and stuffed beneath her head. Denim was cast away aside like trash, cotton was sprinkled like breadcrumbs across the cabin.
Outside a gentle snow fell onto freezing earth, weighing down the pine trees, erasing the gravel driveway, the stairs, their hopes of escape. It piled up on the windows, stuck in the muntin, fogged up the glass.
Inside, he held her close, spreading kisses like honey down her body. His lips were chapped from the cold but oh so warm as they nipped at her shoulder, suckled on her breast, parted her lips with hungry kisses.
Light from the fire played across their nakedness, casting shadows in curves and illuminating sacred spaces usually kept hidden. Dean kissed every spot, let his fingers glide over every inch previously unknown. Y/N held her breath as he explored, moaned his name when he struck the sweet spots. She scraped her nails down his back, nibbled gently on his ears, fit her thighs snug around his trim waist.
There was no rush, no need to worry. There were no monsters lurking behind the trees, no doomsday clock ticking away over their heads. There was only the perfect falling snow and the fire, only the passion between them and the stillness of the forest.
Tomorrow, they would dig their way out, shovel the Impala free and fight their way down the mountain. But tonight they slept in peace, sated and calm, wrapped together on the floor by the fire. Tonight they found the love they both needed, the safety of old wool blankets and the warmth of each other’s arms.
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Maybe, just so I can see how “it’s all gonna make sense in the end”
Voting ended onMar 8, 2023
I’m just curious
I’ve watched the whole season and I’ve had a lot of thoughts and feelings about the show as a whole and I’m curious how it’s gonna all tie together and if Dean coming back is going to be a pivotal part of the episode or just another bait tactic and he only shows up for the last five minutes god help them if that’s that case
Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut - this is just all smut. No plot. Shower sex, brief semi-public sex, fingering, overstimulation, edging, showerhead as vibrator, mentions of oral sex (f receiving). This can once again be blamed on Yvette. 😏
Summary: Dean figures out show to make shower sex not so complicated.
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N
Word Count: 1,312
A/N: In this post, @justagirlinafandomworld shared the pic above, and it gave me all kinds of smutty inspiration, so I had to go for it. 😊 Hope you all enjoy. 😁
The beautiful dividers below and at the bottom were created by @talesmaniac89.
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Y/N stepped into the steamy spray of water, grateful that the cheap motel they'd been forced into by a suddenly raging spring storm, at least had a very nice shower.
She was exhausted; her muscles ached, and small, purplish bruises dotted her skin. But none of the pains or marks came from the Vetalas whose nest she and Dean had taken down easily the day before.
It was all from the night that followed.
As sometimes happened, the hunt had energized and invigorated her boyfriend, making his gaze lustful and hot every time it landed on her. She was positive that even if the storm hadn't appeared out of nowhere, they would have ended up seeking a motel room for the night, unable to make it back to the bunker before the need for each other overtook them.
As it was, Dean's hands had stayed on her the whole time they were checking into the motel, and as soon as they'd left the office he'd pulled her into an alcove between buildings and given her her first orgasm of the night.
He'd pressed her against the peeling whitewashed boards of the detached motel office, jamming his knee between her thighs, and shoving his hand down her jeans. The rain pelted them, drenching them almost immediately, but she was grateful for it, as the pounding sound dulled the noise of her cries of pleasure as Dean plucked at the bundle of nerves at her center.
Kissing her hard, Dean wrapped his massive hand around her throat, squeezing ever so gently, but mostly using the grip to force her head to stay at the exact angle he wanted as he delved his tongue deep into the warm recesses of her mouth.
He kept her pinned there, pressing and pulling a climax from out of her body with the ease of an expert. As she came down, she realized she was clinging to him, mouth open and panting, her thighs still clutched tightly around his hand.
Dean didn't even bother to zip her jeans back up, just pulled his hand out of her body and grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her forward on wobbly legs to get to their room.
With the door barely closed behind them, he'd begun immediately peeling her sodden clothes from her body. Wet skin, cold air and Dean's rough, hot hands had all worked together to leave Y/N a shivering mess covered in goosebumps.
But soon Dean had warmed her, as he laid himself over her, covering her body with with the safety and security of his strength and power. Comfort and love flowed from his fingertips as he stroked her into endless pleasure, all night long.
Now, Y/N looked down at the bruises that dotted along the inside of her thighs, sucked into existence by Dean's sinful, succulent mouth, and felt a thrill of pleasure run through her at the memory of his broad shoulders pushing her legs open as he fell to feast on her like a starving man.
As the steam of the shower swirled around her, she let her hand fall to her still swollen clit, hissing slightly as she touched the sensitive, overworked bud. Her thumb ran over the slight stubble burn that decorated her inner thigh, and she fell back against the shower wall, eyes closed in remembered bliss.
She shrieked loudly and her eyes sprang open as she suddenly felt a hand covering her own where it rested on her soft mound of curls.
"Dean." She breathed before he silenced her with a slow lingering kiss. He used her own fingers to press against her clit, and she moaned raggedly.
"Dean, I can't." She panted. "I can't…anymore. I'm so- Unh! Fuck!" She gritted out the curse as Dean bent to take her left nipple between his lips, sucking it hard before pulling back to lick away the water sluicing over her skin.
"S'okay baby." He said, voice thick with desire. "I'm gonna take care of that."
Without further explanation, he opened a bar of cheap motel soap and lathered his hands up. Turning her gently so she faced the back wall of the shower, he began to work his strong fingers into her tired, spent muscles.
He spread the soap suds from her shoulders, down over her back, working out the tension there, before moving lower and paying special attention to her ass and upper thighs. She felt him get down on his knees behind her, and she peeked over her shoulder to watch him run his hands up and down her legs, fingers coming tantalizingly close to her core again and again.
Eventually he turned her to face him, still on his knees below her, as he began soaping up his hands once again. He scrubbed his blunt nails through the curls at the apex of her thighs washing away the residue of cum that remained from the night before.
Finally he stood and finished lathering her torso. When she was full of soap suds, he turned and pulled down the handheld shower head from where it sat on its anchor.
He clicked something on it, and the water pressure changed from a strong, forceful geyser of water, to a gentle, almost misting spray.
He used the delicate setting to slowly rinse away all the soap, leaving her skin feeling radiant and her muscles relaxed.
As he washed away the last of it, he lowered the wand of the shower head so that it soaked through the strip of soft curls between her legs. With his free hand he spread her lower lips slightly so that the warm, gentle spray tapped lightly against her clit.
Y/N gasped as she felt the tingling sensation spread straight to her core, and down her legs.
"You sure you don't have one more in there for me, sweetheart?" Dean asked huskily.
He jiggled the shower head in his hand, causing the water to vibrate against her sensitive skin and make her cut off a scream.
He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "If you want, I'll stop."
But Y/N shook her head wildly, grabbing Dean's wrist and pressing the showerhead closer. "Fuck no." She choked out, making Dean chuckle wickedly.
"That's my girl." He praised. He spread her lips wider alternating between lightly spraying the water over her whole cunt, and aiming the jet of water directly at her clit and making her scream and lose her balance. Thankfully, Dean's heavy body held her up, his weight acting as an anchor pinning her in place.
Dean kept up the exquisite, gentle torture to the point that Y/N was begging him for release, tears of pleasure and need flowing into the steam and wetness from the shower on her cheeks.
Finally after edging her over and over, Dean pressed the showerhead tightly against her, the direct, ceaseless pressure on her clit sending her careening over the edge.
But as she came down, he didn't pull the water away from her. Instead, he kept it in place, quickly working her overly sensitive flesh into another orgasm, and then another immediately.
He held the showerhead where it was, pushing her over the brink again and again until Y/N was completely limp against him, her body spasming from endless pleasure.
Finally he pulled it away and shut it off. Y/N would have fallen to the shower floor if he hadn't scooped her up in his arms and carried her boneless body back out to the room. He wrapped their wet bodies up in the heavy cotton blanket on the bed.
As Y/N's head lolled against his shoulder and consciousness began to elude her, she heard Dean sigh softly and chuckle as he settled her more comfortably in his arms as he leaned back against the headboard.
"I'm installing one of those showerheads in the bathroom as soon as we get back to the bunker."
So Ellie at 14 keeps Joel alive after a rebar incident in a post apocalyptic world with little to no resources, what excuse does Sam have for letting Dean die with emergency services available to him
I’m just saying, I’m still angry about this, and will be until/if they change cannon. And it’s to the point now we’re anytime I see a piece of exposed rebar, I get angry, and want to take a sledgehammer to it and bend it into a shape that no one could get impaled on.
