people who dont maintag: here is a full analysis of a scene where i write out what each character considered the situation to be, why their pasts made them react the way they did, and why the eventual misunderstanding was as avoidable as it was inevitable… #rambles #idk if this means anything so i wont spam tags ^^;
people who do maintag: i hate blorbo #blorbo #from my shows
“You and your smartass comments really piss me off sometimes, you know that?”
You’re pacing, mid-rant, wearing an invisible path into the kitchen floor. Dishes clack as you put them away, your irritation fuel for the task.
“Do you even try to read the room? Take a second to think hmm, probably not a good time?”
Slowing briefly to shoot him a look, you freeze when you find him staring at you from where he leans against the kitchen island, arms crossed. The corners of his lips are lazily tilted upward, gaze soft.
You tut, placing the wine glasses you’re carrying onto the counter and closing the distance between you, frustration mounting. “Are you even listening to me?”
“I am.” He smiles down at you, brows up, eyes glinting playfully. “Keep goin’.”
You can’t help the heat that shoots to your core, lower, at that look, that tone.
“Ugh—don’t play games with me, Leon. I’m not in the mood.” You lift your hand to give his chest a gentle shove and he catches it, caging your fingers in his and lightly squeezing.
“As you were saying. I’m annoying?” He releases your hand to bring both of his to your waist, pulling you flush to him.
“Yes,” you breathe, eyes darting to his lips. “So annoying.”
“That so.” His voice is rich with quiet amusement as he dips his head so you're nearly sharing air. “What else?”
Brow creasing, you roll your eyes. “Stubborn. A true ass.”
He chuckles, low and deep, and it vibrates his chest where your breasts press into him, nipples peaking at the sensation. A betrayal.
Shit.
“You know what I think?” One hand moves to cup your ass, pinching gently, the growing heat between your legs now an incessant pulse. He misses nothing.
You smile despite the irritation still thrumming, teeth toying with your lower lip as you feel him, solid, through his pants. “Do I want to know?”
He hums, claiming your mouth in answer. Frustratingly so, your cunt is already throbbing for him, eager. Jumping the gun, as usual.
As if sensing it, he lifts you onto the island, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down your neck, sucking lightly. Skilled fingers work to unbutton your top and you cooperate in sliding your arms out, tossing it aside, your bra quickly following.
Your breasts fall and his mouth seeks one while he palms the other, tongue circling in the way he knows you can’t resist, the sensation a shooting current settling deep in your core.
Your head tips as you inhale sharply, and he ventures lower, your elbows meeting marble where you lean back, wordlessly following the dance you’d choreographed endless instances prior.
He slides your shorts, then underwear off with ginger hands, moving to grip your thighs as he urges them open. Bare to him, you’re already quivering in anticipation.
He leaves you in it for a few moments—far too long—kissing a path along your inner thighs.
“Like I said—“ you gasp, breath catching as he suddenly brings his mouth home, “—annoying.”
You feel his amused exhale against your cunt, tongue beginning its foray against and around your clit. His fingers join easily where you're already wet and waiting for him. He hums in satisfaction at this, eyes locking with yours as you begin to whine, your pleasure wound so tightly as of late that it’s already threatening to explode.
You rock your hips once, twice, and he moves with you, hands steadying your thighs just enough to keep contact.
“Fuck, ah—” You adjust yourself to balance on one arm and reach your other out to him, fingers finding his hair and urging his head closer. He recognizes your need instantly, upping his pace, broadening his strokes, tongue and fingers working in tandem, and you’re breaking, release beckoning.
A moment more and you’re quaking as it crashes into you, hips undulating with each flutter, head thrown back as you moan his name like a prayer.
His control slips and he doesn’t wait for you to finish—awash in your pleasure like he normally does—instead pulling you to him and crushing your mouth to his, your wetness lingering there.
One hand moves to his belt, then his zipper. Breath heavy, you use one foot to help him slide his pants down, then his boxers, his cock springing free as both drop to his ankles and he deftly kicks them aside. His shirt is last to go, ripped up and over his head.
He positions you at the edge of the countertop and wastes no time in sliding into you, an exultant groan escaping his lips. Always, no matter how many times it happens, his adoration for you is at its rawest in these moments.
Backside hanging off the ledge, he grips you at your waist as you lay back, the cold marble a welcome shock to the heat swimming through you. His eyes, heavy-lidded but clear, never leave you as he pounds into you, your breasts rocking in rhythm. Sweat glints in the soft afternoon light from the window nearby, highlighting the contours of your body and his.
“Jesus, you’re perfect,” he pants, fingers digging into the supple skin of your hips for purchase. You laugh breathlessly, arms above your head, back arched against the intense fullness between your legs as you take the full length of him.
His focus falls to where you’re joined, pace slowing to savor it, in and out, slick with your arousal. You purposefully clench around him and his gaze snaps to yours. A smirk. “Playin’ with me?”
Your breath hitches when he suddenly pushes deeper, your cervix sending a shock through your abdomen at the graze against its delicate surface.
You push up then, unable to stand it, arms reaching to come around his neck. He anticipates this, stopping only a moment to lift and press you back-first against the wall behind him, clutching you under your thighs as you straddle him. A soft, rhythmic thud sounds as you rock against the hard surface, his quick breaths warming your neck as he fucks you with renewed urgency.
“So—fuckin’—good.” He rasps between thrusts, and it’s all you can do to cry out in response, biting down on his flexed trap to stifle yourself, his skin slick beneath your fingertips as you drag them along the hard planes of his back.
“Leon—“ you beg, your second orgasm mounting as his cock rubs along your sensitive internal spot, his pubic bone driving into you.
He grunts. “What's that—you said—earlier.” A hungry jerk of his hips. “Somethin’ about—stubborn?”
You groan through his teasing, desperate to eat your words tenfold. “Please,” you try again, rolling your hips in protest.
He obliges without so much as a fight, ever the gentleman, fucking you hard and fast. Quickly, too quickly, his mouth meets yours just in time to catch your moan with his as you both come, staggered, firm walls flexing around his cock where his warmth fills you.
He rides the climax, watching you move with a primal sort of satisfaction until his erection fades with a barely audible “fuck” through bitten, swollen lips.
Your head lolls back, meeting the wall behind you, savoring the remnants of your orgasm as your limbs go rubbery, your ears ringing.
Breathing hard, you both pause, clinging to each other as your hearts thunder in tandem.
He lowers you enough for his forehead to rest against yours, still inside you, eyes searching your face with a cocky half grin. "Still mad at me?"
Cheeks flushed, you lean in and plant a gentle, placating kiss to his lips, a light pop sounding as you drag and release his bottom lip with a soft bite. “I’ll think about it.”
They should have had a scene where the bad guy throws Dean (likely scenario) and Cas goes to catch him but halfway through Dean's arc through the air Cas remembers that a human man moving at speed towards an immovable object (angel) will hurt just as much as the wall he's trying to protect him from, so Dean hits Cas and he just folds like laundry, cradling Dean's body so tenderly even as they both hit the ground, and it works, the impact is swallowed in the soft heat of Cas's arms and Dean is so genuinely flustered that he just lays there on top of Cas even as the bad guy advances on them and Cas has to roll over Dean and shield him from a blow, and then he does get a little murderous because How Dare you think you can touch Dean Winchester? and he smites the fuck out of the bad guy and Dean is still laying on the ground just bright fucking red and wide eyed
it’s fucking disgusting how so many “allies” AND fellow queer people will only ever mention transmascs when it has to do with how much they like “boypussy” but then when it comes to the oppression we face for being transmasc it’s dead silence
