Writing for Supernatural, Negan, Bucky Barnes, and now Soldier Boy. My work is also posted to AO3 under the same name. ** ADULTS ONLYÂ 18+Â **Â SPN Pond Guppy. ~~~~~~~~~~ BY FOLLOWING AND/OR READING MY WORKS, YOU ARE ACKNOWLEDGING THAT YOU ARE AT LEAST 18 YEARS OLD AND TAKE FULL RESPONSIBILITY FOR ANY AND ALL ADULT CONTENT THAT YOU MAY SEE WHILE VISITING MY BLOG! ~~~~~~~~~~ Do you want to be tagged? ASK!! **Masterlist
Summary: She tries to ponder the incredible stamina her lover has.Â
Rating:Â Explicit
Regardless of rating, this is an 18+ ONLY blog. Â Â
Word Count: 465
Squick Warnings: Â Â None.
Note:  Please donât steal my writing. I worked hard on it. My work cannot be reproduced or posted by anyone without my express, written consent. To reblog is great! To copy and paste is theft.   Â
ALSO: I have a serious issue with tense. Please forgive me.
ALSO ALSO: This is my first foray into IWTV. Please be gentle.
It would be nice if having a vampire lover came with a warning label or a guidebook. She probably would have had more but her thoughts scattered when Lestat softly growled her name in her ear as he pushed his cock back inside her. Â Her skin was tingling where heâd dragged his fangs along the sensitive skin of her throat. She shuddered and twisted her body.
The blonde vampire snickered, "Something bothering you?"
She pushed her hips towards him. "You know better," the slight movement caused him to purr. Otherwise, she was basically immobile; pinned against the wall, legs draped over his thighs with both of her wrists firmly held above her head.  He held her bottom effortlessly with his free arm. Lestat continued to slowly pump his hips, dragging his cock through her swollen folds, in absolutely no hurry, fucking her like he had all the time in the world. Because, well, he did. She'd already cum twice with a third orgasm building.
"I just want to please you, my love." he practically purred. âYou know how much I love to please you.â He snapped his hips once to make his point, making her yelp.
She tried to reply, however, "Unnh," was all she could manage just before her orgasm made her vision go white. She cried out his name and thrashed in his grip while he continued his pace.
'Yes, my beauty. That's it,â he praised while the waves washed over her.  When the orgasm subsided, she relaxed in his arms. Only then did he stop his movements.  He released her wrists, and she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck. "You are so lovely when you come undone for me. I love how you feel when you do."
Panting, she wrung her hands at the nape of his neck, feeling pins and needles. Suddenly, she gasped when she felt his cock twitch inside her, "Lestat!â
âYou need to tell me when I hold you like that too long,â he chastised with affection. âI can hear the life returning to your lovely fingers. We canât have that.â He let the hand that had been holding her wrists hand roam down her side to grip her ass solidly.  âYou know how much I like when you use them.â He kissed her then, his tongue teasing across her lips, driving her wild when she should be barely conscious. Â
 âYou're not even close, are you?" she asked, breathlessly, when they parted. He tsked playfully at her. "Mon cher, your pleasure is my pleasure. I need nothing more.â He pulled her away from the wall, spun with the grace of a dancer and fell upon her on the bed. He purred with pleasure as she tightened around him. "Now, once more?" He grinned as his fangs descended.
My support: @deanwinchesterswitch @thoughtslikeaminefield
The hunt ended with a vanquished monster, but not before two more innocents had been lost.
Once safe inside the bunker, Dean drops his duffel on the war room table and, without pausing, heads straight for the bar cart. Sullenly, you do the same, watching him reach for a bottle, chin tucked and shoulders slumped.
Heart aching, you step behind him, press a cheek to his back, and flatten your palms against his chest, holding him tight.
His entire body tenses, breath briefly stalled before being released on a heavy sigh, and a hand is placed over yours. Several minutes pass. The tremble in his hand stills, and his breath settles to a quiet, rhythmic pace.
When he shifts, you release him.
Turning, he asks, "What was that for?"
"For being you."
Before he can utter a disparaging word against himself, you grab his face, pull him to you, and kiss his forehead. "That's for saving the world and the people on it."
"I-"
Sliding a thumb over his lips, you shush him. "Learn how to accept gratitude."
Dean huffs. You kiss his cheek.
"Thank you for saving me from that demon and the fire."
Dean's gaze drops. You kiss his other cheek.
"Thank you for letting me make this my home all these years, even though you were annoyed when Sam first invited me here."
Dean tries to shake his head. You hold tight and kiss the tip of his nose.
"Thank you for taking the time to teach me how to be a better hunter and protect myself."
Dean rocks on his feet. You kiss the tip of his chin.
"Thank you for always being my hero."
Stepping back, you intend to give him his solitude, but an arm slips around your waist and a hand cradles the back of your head. The actions are filled with intent, but his eyes hold wariness, and the brush of his lips is hesitant.
Until you grip the back of his head, fingers grazing his nape.
Dean groans and his body shifts, tongue urgently seeking entrance, embrace tightening, crushing you to him, a longing emanating from him like he wants to disappear into your soul.
Blood pulsing in your ears, heart thudding in your chest, your words are barely a whisper between heavy breaths when he finally relinquishes your mouth. "What was that for?"
Dean smiles, kisses your forehead, each cheek, the tip of your nose, then your chin.
why are we forgetting that fanfic writers write whatever they want to read because they write for themselves and are just kind enough to share their hours of hard work with us to read for free?
donât like something? donât read them
realizing you donât like what youâre reading? click that back button
not understanding why there are so many fics about x and not enough about y? read the beginning of this post, âfanfic writers write whatever they want to read because they write for themselvesâ
wanting more fics about y? then you write fics about that thing you want to read for yourself the way others write fanfics about things they want to read for themselves. thatâs the point of fanfiction
fandoms become more toxic when we think we have the right to shit on fanfic writers just because what they write for themselves isnât to our personal liking. so hereâs the thing, itâs not to your liking because they didnât write it for you.
Have you signed up for our epic writing contest yet? No? Why not! We're giving away prizes, spreading your work, and just overall having a blast in our private discord server. Don't you wanna be part of this amazing contest? You do. So sign up!
Registration for Storytellers Contest: The Jensen Ackles Chronicles closes October 15, 2025.
Can you tell me about the morning after going several rounds with Dean he rolls over in bed and adjusts the covers, causing you to forget your shift to be his good girl a couple more times?
Warnings/tags: explicit, name calling, rough sex, nihilistic themes, Knight of Hell Dean, fantasies of being fucked to death? Idk itâs one of mine, might as well be yours, youâre female AFAB in this scenario
Words: 826
Itâs 6 oâclock in the morning, and your shift starts at 7. You should be in the shower, washing off the sex and sweat from the night before. Instead, youâre letting him slip his big, rough hand between your legs from behind and slide his thick fingers along your messy slit.
Yesterday after work, you met people for happy hour. You committed to one drink because of your early morning shift. After bidding your friends farewell, you stopped at the liquor store around the corner; thatâs when you saw him.
Tall, lean, hair a mess, shoulders broad and thick enough to hold your knees open wide for hours. And it didnât stop there. The guy clearly didnât skip leg day, and the estimation of power behind those hips and thighs had you wet and wanting in the South African wine aisle.
Now, he brushes those heavy, juicy lips against the shell of your ear and breathes. âGonna be a good girl for me this morninâ?âÂ
You were a good girl for him all night. In fact, you were so good for him, that you can barely move this morning.
âJust gimme a minute to call work,â you whisper, hoarse from begging, shouting, and sobbing his name.
He grunts behind you as he resituates your twisted bedding until heâs glued to you from shoulder to ass and pushing one knee between your thighs. You reach for your phone to find the lock screen is a snap of you with his angry grip clamped under your chin and his thick, hard cock in your mouth.
This man... isnât a man at all. He told you as much before you even let him touch you.
âDâyou believe in the devil?â He loomed over you under one of the hazy street lights on your block.
âI donât believe in anything.â
He blinked, and the street lights played no tricks to reveal eyes as black as oil, slick and treacherous, and it took your breath away.
âHow âbout now?â he asked, eerily motionless on the sidewalk in front of your building.
âShow me.â
Your phone screen opens, and you type out a text to your shift manager.
Caught something nasty â body aches, feverish... sorry to leave you short this morning đ
!!! rest up and get better, weâll handle itÂ
When you attempt to replace your phone on your nightstand, Dean stops you and swipes to find your photos and videos.
âThere we are,â he rumbles, tapping on a thumbnail to open a video of you astride his hips. He focused on where his slick, pink cock repeatedly disappeared inside you, and his thumb toyed with your clit.
He props the phone against your lamp and drags your leg over his hip. You recall all the filthy things he said in that moment, but itâs muted now, so you get real-time narration in its place.
âYou take my cock so good. Look at that tight, dripping pussy ridinâ me like a fuckinâ pro.â
He reaches down to spread your lips and push a finger inside, just as you feel his hard, smooth cock nudging and probing your cheeks. On the screen, you cup your breasts and tweak your nipples in a rhythm that Dean matches with his thrusts and swipes of his thumb.
You watch yourself arch and can almost hear the gasp as Dean grips your cunt in his hand in real time. âFuck my hand.â
You moan and comply, reaching for the screen to go to the next video with the sound on.
âFuckinâ hot little bitch.â
You were ass-up, your hair fisted in his hand as he pushed the side of your face into your pillow. He knelt between your open thighs, forcing the breath from your lungs and the plump of your ass to shake with every thrust.
Now, you listen to yourself squeak under his dark chuckles from your phone, as you moan with the heel of his hand grinding over your mound and his fingers fucking you to come again.
âYou should be unconscious by now, fuckinâ energizer bunny,â he mutters with mirth and spite before sinking his teeth into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.Â
You whine, depleted and desperate. Youâve never been fucked like this before. Youâre always in charge, on top, you call the shots â and itâs still never enough.
But Deanâs a Knight of Hell.Â
He rolls you to your stomach and straddles your hips.Â
âThought you were gonna show me somethinâ, didnât ya, honey?âÂ
He presses a hand between your shoulder blades to hold you in place, not that you could go move if you wanted to.Â
âFucked all the fire outta ya. Got nothinâ to say?âÂ
Then heâs pushing inside you, slow and so thick it hurts. Your whimper doesnât leave your chest.Â
You realize then that this might be how you die.Â
At least youâll go out with a spectacularly wicked bang.
Please donât leave without telling me what you think!
Registration for the first-ever Storytellers Contest - The Jensen Ackles Chronicles is now officially open!
If you're ready - click here and fill out the form to register.
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Summary: A mis-held belief is denounced, giving way to something better.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,498
Beta: @princessmisery666
Tears press in her eyes, the argument with Sam over only moments ago, but her decision is made, and he can't change her mind.
Hearing heavy footfalls, her heart beats against its cage. She hoped to have left already and avoid the looming confrontation, but knows she no longer has a choice.
"What's going on?"
The gruff voice rattles her nerves, and she takes a calming breath. Swiping the dampness from her cheeks, she plasters on a fake smile and turns to face him. "Noth-thing." The word comes out broken on a voice pitched too high.
"Doesn't look like 'nothing'." Dean crosses his arms, his demeanor stern but concerned. "Didn't sound like 'nothing'." Looking over her shoulder, he asks, "Where'd Sam go?"
"I don't know. He âŠhe was mad."
"What were you arguing about?"
She's not surprised he heard the shouting, but is a little skeptical that he didn't hear the context. Assuming he's attempting to be kind, she sucks in a breath to steady herself. "It doesn't matter." The intensity of his stare is too much, and she briefly glances at the chair next to her. "I'm leaving."
Dean follows her gaze to find her duffel resting on the seat. He understands now why his little brother would be angry. She must have found a hunt and wants to go by herself. He can't blame the guy. Even though most cases now are simple and quick, the thought of her out there on her own sends his blood pressure soaring. Maybe he can offer a compromise.
"Found a hunt?" He points to the bag, watching her chew on her lip. "You know, it's been a while. I could use a break from this place. Why don't I come with you?"
"NO!"
Her response is swift and sharp, startling him, and he stops mid-turn to look back at her. "No?"
Tears well in her eyes as she shakes her head. "I âŠI'm leaving." Everything she wants to say to him lodges painfully in her throat. There's no point in voicing those thoughts anyway. She knows exactly what his response will be.
Dean's frame tenses, hands fisting loosely at his sides when she shoulders her bag. She blinks, and the tears spill. He looks devastated, and it feels like her heart just literally cracked with the weight of it all. "I can't stay ...I- I can't be here anymore."
"WHAT?! Wait! What do you mean?" He doesn't know what the hell went down between her and Sam, but he can't let her go, even though he should. "Listen, let me talk to him. Whatever's going on, let me help fix it."
She knew this would be hard, but never imagined it would be this difficult. She assumed he would be relieved and agree it was for the best, rather than trying to keep her from leaving. Vision blurred by the onslaught of tears, she squeezes her eyes closed, willing her emotions to stay in check with the knowledge that the pain in the aftermath of telling him will be worse than what she's feeling now.
With a deep inhale, she opens them to find he's moving toward her and takes a faltering step back. If he touches her, that'll be the end of it âŠthe end of her. Dean immediately stops, hands up in surrender, eyes wary. "You can't." Scrubbing her fingers across her face, she bolsters her courage and states. "You can't fix something that was never there to begin with." Heart now completely shattered, she turns to leave.
Dean panics, narrowly getting a grip on the strap of her bag before she's out of reach. When she jerks to a stop, he steps closer to keep her from falling, loosely resting a hand on her hip. He releases the bag when she wrenches away from his touch, and it slips from her shoulder to land with a heavy thud.
"I'm sorry. I just ⊠I." Running a hand through his hair, he huffs, "My brother's an idiot for letting you go."
She turns, then, the grief ebbing into confusion. "W- what?"
"Don't âŠ" It's all he can manage; the words lodge in his throat. His chest aches, lungs heavy with each breath, heart pounding, muscles taut with anger and fear. She sounds so broken, looks so fragile. All he wants is to scoop her up and hold her together, keep her safe, and show her what she means to him, but he can't. He shouldn't even be thinking about it. Shifting on his feet, fingers flexing at his sides, he stares back at her, letting the silence stretch between them.
When she moves to retrieve her bag, his resolve snaps, overwhelmed by the emotions, he throws caution to the wind. If this is the last moment they have together, then the hell with the consequences.
He grabs her hand and tugs, arm slipping around her waist as he roughly pulls her into him. Her head falls back, lips parted with a gasp at the sudden movement. Cradling the back of her head, he claims the supple pink flesh like it belongs to him, and she offers no resistance.
Knowing this will be the first and the last, he pours his entire heart into the kiss, it's rough and sloppy, but he commits every detail to memoryâthe race of her pulse as his thumb brushes over her carotid, the sweetness of her honey lip balm, the flutter of her eyelids, the way her hair tickles his palm, the gentle pressure of her fingers as she grips his forearms, the curve of her spine and the small of her back that fits his splayed hand like it was made for him, the soft cry as he pulls away.
The guilt emerges swiftly, weighing heavily on his shoulders. Gliding his hands down her arms, he makes sure she's steady on her feet. "Be safe out there," he warns before turning and walking away, needing to drink away his shame and sorrow.
He's gone before she realizes it, too stunned to move or say anything to stop him. The kiss was better than any she ever imaginedâhe tasted of vanilla, sweet cream, and spicy ginger, notes from the expensive whiskey she bought him lingering on his breath, muscles strong and thick beneath her fingers, lips lightly chapped but plump and pliable, the heady intoxicant of his warmth, spice, and musk, and she hates him for it.
Hates that he took away a dream and created a reality she will never experience again. Hates that now she will compare every kiss to his, wanting only his lips sealed to hers. Why would he do that? Why kiss her like that and then walk away? Tracing a finger over her still-tingling lower lip, she closes her eyes and replays the conversation leading up to the moment.
"Oh." Her eyes pop open as she grips the back of the chair. "OH!"
Dean thinks she's in love with Sam!
She takes a step, then hesitates. What if this is just some cosmic joke? Or a cruel dream? Another step has her tripping over her bag, foot tangled in the strap. The sting of her wrist twisting as she grabs the table's edge to keep from face-planting the floor lets her know she's awake, alive, and this is real.
Once freed, she chases after him. She rounds the corner and sees him entering his room, pushing to a sprint, she nearly misses the doorway as she slides to a stop. Falling into the door as he's closing it, she stumbles into the room.
"What the hell?" He catches her with one arm while preventing the door from slamming into the wall with the other.
"You're," she pants a couple of breaths, "w-wrong." Fisting the front of his t-shirt to help anchor herself, his arm curls her into a loose embrace. "A- about me âŠand Sam." With a final huff, her breath is steady enough to speak smoothly, "We'll talk about that later, though, because right now, you need to kiss me again."
"What?"
Cradling his face, her heart clenches seeing the tear tracks on his cheeks, but his dumbfounded expression elicits a tentative smile. "I want you to kiss me âŠagain."
"But âŠ"
With a shake of her head, she breathes, "You."
The moment it clicks, his hold tightens, and her smile grows.
Swinging the door closed, the corners of his mouth curl. "Good, because I can do better."
A laugh bubbles in her throat, immediately squelched by a shriek as he spins, pinning her between solid oak and hard muscle. The pads of his fingers are rough, but his touch is tender, thumbs caressing the apples of her cheeks as his hands frame her neck. His head dips, but his gaze catches hers, hungry yet questioning. Without hesitation, she leans forward and closes the gap, hating that he's right.
He can do better, and he spends the rest of the night proving it.
Do you love to write fanfiction? Do you enjoy crafting intense, immersive stories that defy the critics who say that fanfiction isnât real writing? Do you remember where you were when a white Ford Bronco tried to outrun the cops? If so, youâre in for some fun!
Storytellers Contest: The Jensen Ackles Chronicles
is the only event with prizes and an age gate. Thatâs right! You must be over 30 to join this awesome contest!Â
By joining, youâll be tasked with writing an amazing story in one of two categories - Novella (5k to 15K words) or Magnum Opus (25k+ words) - starring Jensen Ackles or one of his approved characters. Your fabulous creation will be judged by a panel of fanfiction lovers and writers, and the winners will receive some awesome prizes.Â
The registration deadline is quickly approaching. August 15, 2025, marks the start of the fun, and we hope to see you there!
We're super excited for this one-of-a-kind event! Wonât you help us spread the word? Follow our blogs at @storytellers-contest and @storytellers-contest-tjac for lots of updates, info, and more! Â
While youâre at it - tell a friend, reblog our info, and pass it along! Youâll be glad you did once you get to read all of the epic tales about to be penned.Â
Weâll see you August 15, and until then, remember, all great stories start with one wordâŠ
âYouâre not a teenager, you canât write fanfic!â
âYouâre too old for fandom.â
Weâve all seen posts like these and rolled our eyes. Weâve each had someone hurtfully guffaw at our hobby. Times when weâve been embarrassed to tell people what weâre doing when the screens are on and the keys are clicking.Â
Well, no more. Itâs time to stand up for our craft and our age!Â
Get ready to join a writing contest that not only encourages âolderâ fanfiction authors, but downright has an age gate! That's right- you must be over 30 to join in on the fun!
Why 30? Because 29 7/8th sounded dumb.Â
The Storytellers Contest is a new idea, a new challenge, a new way to show off your skills and prove to the youths that age is but a number and things only get better with time. To participate, all authors, artists, and judges must be at least thirty years of age prior to the opening of registration. And whatâs more? The characters must be over thirty as well. Thatâs right. In for a penny...
Each round of The Storytellers Contest will focus on a single actor and any eligible aged characters that they have portrayed. The stories will be gripping and immersive, with impeccable grammar and spot-on characterization. They will be crafted with care and judged by a panel of specially selected fanfiction authors who, not only know the pain of writing, but are - you guessed it - over thirty.Â
Once the judges have spoken and the scores have been tabulated, winners will be announced, and prizes will be given out. Yes, prizes! Fandom-specific prizes! Amazing prizes valued at over $1,100! Well, OK, not that much, but theyâll still be really cool. And, everyone who participates will get a badge for their blog and bragging rights for life.
For the inaugural round of The Storytellers Contest, we have chosen the incredible actor, director, singer, and producer Jensen Ackles. You know him from Supernatural, youâre counting down the days till you see him in Countdown, and now youâre gonna win a prize for crafting an epic story around him!Â
Head on over to Storytellers Contest: The Jensen Ackles Chronicles to find out more.Â
