i literally cannot believe ppl are batshit crazy that they’re fighting, arguing, physically abusing, verbally abusing, bullying etc a grown ass real man, all in the name of destiel. from the bottom of my heart FUCK you. fuck destiel at this point. if it’s gonna make you treat jensen like that then you don’t have a right to be in the fandom. the love of the show brings us together but you starved bitches need dean to be gay and he ISNT! like jensen said, you interpreting that way is fine but don’t go forcing it upon everyone else and def don’t force the man who played him for 15 YEARS into saying it’s true, when it isn’t. NO ONE knows more about dean than jensen, like it or not. i was fine with ppl liking the ship, and now everyone who is supporting the abuse towards jensen can go screw themselves. may karma find you, you bitch
SUMMARY : you comfort jensen when he returns to the hotel room after that hellish panel.
WARNINGS : estalished relationship. strong language. fluff. angst. smut. oral (m. receiving). unprotected p in v. rough sex. sadistic!jensen (if you squint). masochistic!reader (if you squint). dom!jensen. sub!reader. mention of verbal abuse. hair pulling. dacryphilia. cream pie. cockwarming.
A/N : so sick about what happened to jensen over the weekend and all the hate that still follows. fuck all who are encouraging his mistreatment and those who are doing it. i love you jensen, you deserve more!
You anxiously waited for his return in your shared hotel room. How dare they?! After all he’s given to the character, they treat him like that?! You’re livid! Jensen is a kind person who listens and treats everyone with respect. He uses his days off to attend last-minute conventions, only to be treated like absolute trash! Your heart broke, and if you knew he wouldn’t get backlash from your actions, you would’ve thrown hands. The second the door opens, you jump off the couch and greet him.
“Hey, baby,” you say with gentle precaution.
“Hey.”
His eyes are heavy and kept low as he enters the room. He barely acknowledges you with a small peck to your temple before slumping on the couch, exhausted from the heated panel. You kneel down and take off his boots, relieving his tired feet of their confinement. He closes his eyes with a sigh after you set them aside and begin massaging him. He leans his head back on the cushion, trying his hardest to be swept away by the sensations your hands bring.
“Thank you.”
You hum in response, focusing a little longer on his feet before making your way up his legs. Words bounced around in your head, hoping for the right ones to come out. He looks so peaceful, you almost don’t want to disrupt the warfare going on up there, but you’re bursting to make him feel better. Your hands rub up his thighs a few times before you lift yourself off the ground and straddle his hips. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even open an eyelid to peek at you, so you continue your massage.
Your hands rub over his silk black shirt before working his neck and shoulder muscles. The poor man was tense, and you tried your hardest to massage the knots out of them. Small groans and grunts fall from his lips, and each one breaks your heart a little. When was the last time he took care of himself when you weren’t with him? You didn’t even want to imagine what he’d do if he came back to an empty room. Whether he wanted it or not, you’re going to do your best to ease his mind as best as you can. Your hands move to his head, then face, adding just the right amount of pressure to provide relief. Yet, he’s still troubled.
“I’m so sorry you had to put up with that.”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t even wrap my head around how disrespectful they were. To try and force you to believe—”
“I don’t want to talk about it, sweetheart.”
You nod, but he doesn’t see. “Okay. I understand.”
“I just want to forget about it.”
“I can help with that.”
You lean forward and press your lips against his in a soft kiss. He returns it before you trail your kisses downward. From his cheek to his neck, over his collarbone, and onto his chest, before his shirt impedes further down. You slide off his lap and kneel between his legs once more, your hands working his belt. He adjusts in his seat as his boner reacts. His face scrunches, and you bite your lip, wanting more.
“Baby...”
“What?” You ask as you kiss the outside of his jeans.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
You unzip his pants and yank them down without his help. His boxers try holding down his erection, but his dick jerks, begging to be set free.
“Mm, don’t have to.”
But his body says another thing. He scooches down, allowing you more access. You move the briefs out of your way, and his member springs up. His tip is as red as your face was earlier, and all you want to do is suffocate on his length. It stands tall, proud, and ready to be swallowed, just like it deserved to be. Your mouth waters, needing your husband’s cock.
“I want to. I really, really want to.”
Your hand wraps around the base of his phallus, guiding it at an angle before leaning over his lap and engulfing him. Jensen moans the second he feels your lips around his bellend. Your eyes close, and you let your tongue take over, like it had a mind of its own. It circles around his burning tip, even dipping into his slit, making him jump in his seat. His hand flies to your head, his fingers interwining with your roots as his teeth clamp down on his lower lip.
Fuck everyone else. This woman is going to be the death of me, he thought. His tune changed from before, trying to pretend like he didn’t want you relieving his stress this way, to now shoving your head further on his dick. You take a deep breath and allow Jensen to guide you. With your tongue flat against the back of his member, he glides down your throat until he reaches your uvula, until he can’t go any further, until you’re gagging.
He opens his eyes just enough to see you. Your nose is pressed against his pelvis, his unshaven hairs tickling your skin. He finds it cute how your hands rest on his clothed thighs, your nails digging in as you slowly begin to asphyxiate. He felt a little sick for seeking pleasure in watching you struggle to breathe, but finding it so damn hot that not only did he enjoy it, but so did you. Your head begins to swirl, and on instinct, your eyes fly open from the lack of oxygen. You look up and make eye contact with your partner, a smirk replacing his frown, and if you could smile too, you would.
Jensen pulls your head back slowly and uncorks your windpipe. Your nostrils inhale sharply, filling your lungs with as much air as they can hold before you’re pushed down again. His tip hits the back of your throat again, and you know with his mood, you’re no longer in control. And you’re perfectly fine with that. He guides you, up and down, fast and slow. You hollow your mouth, work your tongue, bob your head, and suck just how he likes it. He’s sure he tastes blood from how hard he bites his lip, but he doesn’t care.
The way you worked in your tricks with little control amazed him. The way tears fell from your eyes, but you didn’t ask to stop once. The way you moaned when his hips began to jerk, pushing his cock deeper down your throat. The way your saliva dripped down his shaft, allowing an easier glide for him in and out of your pretty hole. The way your eyes rolled to the back of your head because you loved the way he fucked your mouth.
Your underwear is drenched with wetness, and he knows it. Despite being his wife, he still referred to you as his slut, the way you reacted to him. You clench around nothing, aching for him to fill you there, too. He’s close, and you know it. You work with him, trying to speed your bobbing as if it were humanly possible. That’s it, he thought before ripping you away and pulling you up with him.
You’re dizzy and disoriented before he falls onto the bed with you. He tears your bottoms off, making you squeal. He shuts you up real quick when he shoves his wet dick into your wetter pussy. The motion is so strong, you gasp, and he groans. Your mouth falls open as he sets a fast and deep pace. Your arms fly around him, holding on for dear life as he pounds you like tomorrow isn’t promised.
Holy fuck, is the only thing your mind keeps repeating that your voice can’t quite repeat. You squirm underneath him, but his body holds you in place. His tip hits your g-spot, over and over again. Tears fall like summer rain, and his hips are lightning. Your skins slap together, echoing like thunder. The bed frame slams against the wall, knocking on it and asking if its neighbor is awake. You know you’d hear it from Jared tomorrow.
You cry out, Jensen’s grunts only encouraging you to get there faster. His breath fans your neck as his breathy moans lick your eardrums. His hands grip your body as he holds you as tight as you him; you’re sure they’ll be bruises soon, and you can’t wait to indulge in them. Your feet dig into his lower back, just above his perfect ass, your thighs squeezing his hips as you try to last. Only, you can’t, and neither can he. His hips slam against you, halting as he shouts for all to hear. You join him, screaming as you cum on him just as hard as he cums in you.
Holy...fuck...
He slumps on your body, refraining from adding all of his weight on you, not that you couldn’t handle it. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, like a prisoner on its cell bars. Sweat coats your bodies after the unexpected and spontaneous workout you both participated in. Your feet push the rest of his jeans off his legs, and it falls to the floor in a clump. He quickly removes his button-down, and you follow with your upper garments, needing every bit of air your body could get. It was as if the heater was working on full blast in the tainted room, but it was only the heat from your bodies.
“Fuck, baby girl, that was...thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, that was all you.”
He catches your lips, deepening the kiss for as long as his lungs would allow. He comes up for air, his lips hovering above yours as he opens his eyes. Feeling his stare, you open yours and gaze into his dark green orbs. He pushes your sweat-drenched flyaways away from your face, completely captivated by your beauty. Yet, not like you were by his.
“I am so in love with you.”
“Not as much as I love you, baby.” You look down, knowing he doesn’t want to talk about it, but needing to say your peace. “It was really hard for me not to speak up for you. Seeing you on that stage...it broke my heart, and all I wanted to do was fight everyone in that room that booed you and agreed with them.”
His finger lifts your chin so you can look at him once more. “I know, sweetheart, but at the end of the day, that won’t fix anything.”
“It’ll make me feel better,” you murmur.
He chuckles, knowing you’re telling the truth. “Trust me, you and me both, but people will be people, and unfortunately, we can’t change who they are or their opinions. So, fuck ‘em. We just gotta let it go and move on. And darlin’, after that, I can’t even remember why I was upset.”
A bright smile graces your face, lifting both your spirits. Suddenly, nothing and no one else mattered. Just you and him, your shared happiness, love, and support for one another. That’s what mattered. That’s all that’ll ever matter.
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why does this have 32k notes? it’s just a picture of a knife in a ranch bottle, is there some unspoken joke that 32 thousand people share? what is going on here, i dont get it. it’s just a fucking picture of a knife in a ranch bottle. is there some spiritual connection people have to this picture? is there some ominous and mystical reasoning that this has 32 thousand notes? do people reblog this because it makes them look like some indie blogger? or is there just something funny to this? someone please explain
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