Under the Lily

MEETING JENSEN #DCCon

souslelys — Mon, 16 May 2016 16:24:21 GMT

First con! First time meeting Jensen! DC!!! - An incoherent recollection for myself and everyone (but most of all for my dearest hunenka who demanded I remember every single detail and tell her about it)

[ Enter Sous, armed with a Sunday Pass ]

So Jensen ops start soon after the Sunday morning gold panel. Normally they call people up by number, but because I was sharing an op with Amy dugindeep who was also attending the Jared Meet & Greet we got to fast track the line and go first. (Ok, not first first – but like – in the room before Jensen first). CUE ME SPENDING THE MORNING PANICKING BECAUSE I WAS NOT READY FOR THIS MOMENT AT ALL?! (Of which Lysa and Amy(shaped) tortured me by telling me very unhelpful things like ‘oh he’s gonna look at you in the eyes” and ‘oh he’s gonna hug you and touch you’ – which UNSURPRISINGLY DID NOT CALM ME DOWN).

I should explain that Amy’s idea for the Op was to hold hands with Jensen (EEE!) while throwing our arms up like we’re cheering in the hopes that his shirt would ride up (EEE!) and WE WOULD CATCH THE TUM TUM ON PHOTO (EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!).

Problem? I’m like. 5 ft tall. Amy is not. And Jensen is Most Definitely Not. So dilemma. How were we supposed to get the Tum Tum if he doesn’t raise his arms high enough? QnQ

LYSA TO THE RESCUE! She finds an ottoman (about same height as a stool) beneath the armchair and IT WAS PERFECT. Iiiiffff not mortifyingly embarrassing to carry down to the lobby and into the op room. OTL (But Lysa and Amy and Stacy were lovely and carried it for me while I was… distressed so it ALL WORKED OUT).

Anyways, IT’S TIME FOR THE OP and so we head down to lobby and into the photo op room with my new ottoman friend, skipping ahead of the line. And we wait there, trying not to panic and he just -

HE FUCKING WALKS INTO THE ROOM, RIGHT IN FRONT OF US and I can’t quite remember if there was cheering or not (there probably was) because frankly, my brain fell out the side of my head.

He looked good. Like amazing. Like the best pictures you’ve ever seen of him except in the brilliant High Definition of Real Life. So 1000x better. His face is just casually perfect nbd. He’s tall. VERY TALL, broad and had amazing hair. Incredibly beautiful. And kind of impossibly perfect. And his walk? I didn’t realize before how attracted I was with his walk?! He has a certain gait with his bowlegs, but damn. He walks into the room and waves and says ‘Good Morning’ cool as you please, like he owns the place, and not at all like 50 girls just swooned. He must be pretty used to it.

And I have to say – he was wearing the PERFECT FREAKING OUTFIT for our evil plan. It was that black cardigan? And single layer short white tee combo (that was incredibly sexy) BUT ALSO INCREASED THE CHANCES OF TUM by A LOT. His entire outfit that day was hot. Model AF.

So Ops start up, Chris has got the music blaring and everyone’s pretty excited and it was super super cute to watch him do Ops with other girls. I was having trouble keeping calm, so I don’t remember any specifically except that one girl had brought bunny ears for him to wear and he put them on and crossed his arms and gave the camera the most amazing Grumpy Jensen look. It was freaking adorable.

Most people probably know this but Ops last less than a minute. They go by really fast. Pretty soon (too soon, 10 lifetimes too soon) it was our turn! So there’s me, front of the line with my ottoman, and Amy’s waiting with Jensen and I kind of rush on over and set it down next to him at which point he looked RIGHT AT ME and in his spectacular Jensen Sass Voice goes:

“Really? Really?”

AND I CANNOT DESCRIBE. HOW AMAZING HE SOUNDS IN PERSON. EVEN SASSY GRUMPY. Okay? He slayed me with two words. And I GOT GRUMPY JENSENED AND I JUST COULDN’T BE HAPPIER. Just know that I replay that moment in my head on the daily, and it never fails to make me giggle and smile like an idiot. Jensen and that voice. And me. Gosh.

In any case, he was pretty amused, I could tell by his smirky-smile face. If you’re wondering what my reply was it went like this:

Jensen: *is himself*

Me: *Struck dumb and mute, while vigorously nodding and grinning like a goof*

Amy’s already on his other side, so I got up on the stool, and HE PUT HIS ARM AROUND MY WAIST as the three of us faced the camera!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (I died)

And at that point Amy had to stop him (Q___Q) and explain the Op that we wanted. She told me that she got the full Green Eyed Ackles Stare while she was talking. How she survived, I do not know.

He put his arms back down and held his hand out and I slipped my hand in his (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and he kind of engulfed my tiny hand in his grip and we threw our arms up! AND LET ME TELL YOU HIS HAND IS BIG (especially compared to mine) AND SOFT/SMOOTH? AND WONDERFUL.

Then the camera flashed (and I panicked because WTF I DO NOT RECALL THE FACE I WAS MAKING AT ALL?) and then it was done, I quickly grabbed the ottoman so that we could get out of the way.

And that? Was it. Q____________________Q

It felt all of 2 seconds. It probably was all of 2 seconds. We weren’t allowed to get hugs unless you were doing that as your op pose, SO UNFORTUNATELY I FAILED IN MY SECRET MISSION TO DISCOVER WHAT JENSEN SMELLS LIKE.

But I still walked on clouds that entire day. I met Jensen Ackles you guys.

Annnnd our op turned out BEAUTIFULLY:

AND WE GOT THE TUM TUM! (Okay a slip of it) BUT MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!
(if you want to see the unaltered version, click here)

I cannot thank Amy enough for sharing this moment with me. <3 <3 <3 (thank you bb!!!!)

Summary of rest of Con/trip:

J2 panel was amazing. I was sitting pretty far away but it’s still cool to be in the same room as J2 you know? Such a fun atmosphere, and they make it so great for the fans. They gave awesome answers that day too ;u; <3 I’ll meet Jared next time prob? I’LL PICK HIM UP IT’LL BE GREAT.

And standing in line with Lysa for autos and I got to watch Jensen blow kisses at a few girls and just -swooons-

And all the wonderful girls that I met at that Con (and after the Con :D) I FINALLY GOT TO MEET dugindeep, cherie_morte, riyku, rozearkana, amy(shaped), kelleigh, and Lysa and Stacy and Mieke ;u; THEY WERE SO MUCH FUN, and so hilarious and sweet and they got me through that day. After the weekend, I stayed for 2 days in DC to see the sights, and Cherie was kind enough to host me and tour us around <3 It was such a memorable time.

I can't believe that was only a month ago. I miss everyone very very much and can't wait to have adventures with them again <3

[ FIC ] Essence of Us (J2, NC-17)

souslelys — Tue, 12 Apr 2016 01:41:15 GMT

Title: Essence of Us (AO3)
Pairing: J2
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2500+
Notes: Written for salt_burn_porn and cherie_morte's prompt cure for all ails. Thanks to saltandburnboys for the awesome beta (aka saving this fic) <3
Warnings: ABO, comeplay, knotting

Three rabbits, ten fish, and one deer. Jared adjusts the weights of his catches on his back, heavy deer carcass slung over his shoulders while the full fishing net and small traps hang around his neck. His muscles ache, alpha strength working overtime. The going is slow, but he’s a little happier with each step closer to home. The sun is already sinking low, barely visible through the trees.

It’s quiet in the darkening forest, so the others must have made it back by now. They’d run past him earlier, single traps in hand, the occasional doe – more than enough to feed their families. In retrospect, Jared may have gone a bit overboard during this last hunt.

Not that anyone can blame him. He’s newly mated to the prettiest omega in the pack, he’s allowed to preen and strut and show off for his mate, even if they’re technically past the wooing stage. He hasn’t forgotten the dismissive stares of Jensen’s other suitors: the much older, more experienced alphas with their fancy, verdant hilltop dens.

The nagging need to prove himself to them, and to Jensen hasn’t quite faded.

Jared is taller than most, despite his mere twenty summers, and he’d really started to bulk up around the time Jensen started mate seeking. But he had been Jensen’s youngest suitor, far from the best hunter, and his beloved den had been situated at the foot of the bleak, shadowy, rock-faced mountain. How could he possibly compete?

Nobody had been more surprised than Jared to find Jensen curled up one day in his mountain den’s bedding, sweet omega scent filling up the room, lingering on all of Jared’s belongings like Jensen had purposefully rubbed up against them.

He had chosen Jared.

The memory still makes Jared’s stomach flip, a familiar, giddy thrill that Jared’s felt around Jensen since they’d played around as pups. It’d often been the two of them, Jensen ignoring the weres his age, choosing instead to roll through the glades with the runt of the pack. Jared had been overexcited, curious and more than a little annoying, something Jensen never failed to point out.

At first, Jared had thought that Jensen had felt obligated to watch over him, since he was older. And Jensen had defended Jared more times than he can count, easily flouncing the fledgling alphas that would jeer and push Jared around. But still, Jensen had never pushed him away like the other children had, and he’d always saved a smile for Jared when it was just the two of them.

They were inseparable, and Jared never stopped following him around, had never outgrown his puppy love.

When they had finally presented as alpha and omega, Jared had always hoped they would become mates one day. The claiming mark on his neck, waking up in the rising sunlight pressed up against soft skin that smells of love and home and Jensen – this past month has been an absolute dream.

He reaches the base of the mountain quickly, each weighted step lightened by the thought of surprising his mate. An odd scent floats out to greet him and he frowns. The air reeks of honeyed lust and the heavy sweetness of overripe fruit – undeniably Jensen, but the scent is too strong, too heady. It wraps around his head, stirring arousal low in his belly.

He pushes through the carefully constructed entrance of his den, and immediately, he hears Jensen’s low keening from their bedded corner. He forgets about his catch, and the traps fall to the ground with a heavy thud, as he rushes over to the bed.

“Jensen! Jensen, what’s wrong?”

“Jared… hurts.”

The fire’s out, leaving the den dark and cold. The last of the setting sun shines through the portal above them. Jensen’s naked, his skin shining with sweat, limbs moving restlessly in his half-conscious state, lush mouth open and panting as tempting pheromones and heat drift off him in waves. Jared can feel himself hardening, and he grits his teeth as he resists the urge to spread those pretty legs, and bury himself deep. Instead he gathers Jensen into his arms. Jensen’s face burrowing into the crook of Jared’s neck, and he seems to relax, just a little, with the close contact. Jared tugs Jensen into his lap, rubbing his back soothingly, and running his nose along the heated skin, trying to scent the source of the pain.

He can’t sense anything beneath the cloying scent of Jensen’s arousal, and fear sinks into Jared’s gut when Jensen folds in on himself, sinking heavily into Jared’s hold. Jensen is bigger than the other omegas, well-muscled and only a few inches shorter than Jared. He’s heard other alphas comment on it as if it made Jensen less-attractive, but Jared doesn’t mind at all, loves how Jensen fits in his arms, solid and perfect. Besides, Jared’s more than strong enough to keep up with Jensen, and he’s proud that such a strong creature agreed to be his mate.

Apart from incoherent mumbling, Jensen doesn’t answer when Jared repeats his question. His movements are mindless and needy, like Jensen gets when Jared has him on his back, but there’s an undercurrent of hurt in the aborted twitch of his limbs. Frantically, Jared runs his hands over Jensen’s body, looking for injuries, but all he gets is Jensen shifting and grinding against him in return.

Jared’s unbearably hard already, just wants to push Jensen down and take him up on the offers his omega is unconsciously making. Jensen’s wet down to his thighs, omega slick soaking into the front of Jared’s pants. For a moment he’s all alpha, arms tight around Jensen as he licks stripes of sweat off his mate’s skin, nipping and biting as he goes, hips moving insistently against Jensen’s ass. It takes him a second to realize his other, less base instincts are also pinging, and he realizes how weakly Jensen is clinging to him. Jared has yet to experience Jensen in heat, but this - something is wrong.

He needs to find the healer, immediately. It takes almost everything in him to let go of Jensen while one part of him demands he take his mate, and the other cries out in sympathy with all the hurt, needy sounds Jensen’s making.

“I’ll be back okay? I’ll be right back,” Jared says, wetting a washcloth, and dabbing at Jensen’s sweaty forehead and torso, easing him down onto the bedding. He presses a gentle kiss against Jensen’s lips, nuzzling Jensen’s nose with his own before forcing himself to walk out the door.

0-0-0

Lunar heat, the healer is saying. Jared sits numbly through the explanation, cold dread running through him. The healer rambles on about were-biology, cycles and viral triggers but all Jared understands is that Jensen is sick and suffering, and he needs to be mated through it – repeatedly, lest the uncontrollable heat causes permanent damage to Jensen’s body.

At first, Jared had turned bright red at the instruction, embarrassed to discuss his mateship with an outsider, then quickly paled when he’d realized that the healer had been offering to set up a mating stand in the middle of town for his omega. For other alphas.

“It’s a regrettable circumstance for a mated omega to be sure, but were-come is the key. And even with its healing properties, he’ll still need a lot of it,” the man’s saying, glancing carefully at Jared to gauge his reaction. “Much more than a normal were would be able to provide in such a short timeframe. Ideally, a True Mate would suffice –“ the man frowns as he looks at Jensen, then returns his judging stare to Jared once more “- but you know how unlikely –“

A growl escapes Jared’s throat at the thought of anyone else touching Jensen, much less fucking him. The gall of the man to stand there and not only question his mating, but at the same time suggest Jared just hand his omega over to the alphas of the town.

Jared stands to his full height, straightening his shoulders and moving between the other man and where Jensen is whimpering feverishly on the bed. It’s not much longer before the healer is making a hasty exit, door shutting in his face as he tries to remind Jared that his mate is suffering, and needs to be treated right away.

Jensen looks worse now, paler than ever. There’s a twisting ache in his chest, doubt growing in the back of his mind. He’s being selfish, he knows that. But he can’t give Jensen up… he just can’t.

Taking Jensen’s hand in his, Jared runs a hand across Jensen’s sweat-damp forehead, whispering low and soothing, “It’ll be alright, Jen. I’m here.”

He’s going to fix this.

0-0-0

“Please, please…”

Jared’s hair is soaked with sweat, he can feel it cooling on his neck and back, can feel the slick between their torsos as he thrusts in and in and in. Jensen just tilts his hips forward, legs wrapped weakly around Jared, letting him slide deeper, beloved green eyes fever-bright as he’s opened up for his fourth knotting.

His long lashes flutter softly closed as Jared pushes in, stretching him wide as omega slick and come seep out around his knot. The tight, clenching pressure around him is bliss, and Jared moans loudly into Jensen’s shoulder, coming in long spurts into his omega.

Now tied, he pulls back to watch as pleasure clouds Jensen’s beautiful face, a short reprieve from the heat eating him up from the inside. At lease he knows this is working, even if just a little. Jared presses kisses to his jaw, catching Jensen’s lips as they fall open when Jared swivels his hips, his large knot tugging at Jensen’s hole.

“Oh – oh Jared,” Jensen sighs. The fever still hasn’t broken, but Jared’s managed to get a few more words out of him.

“Does it still hurt? It’s getting better, right Jen?”

Jared holds Jensen close, trying not to make his heavy breathing obvious, nor the exhaustion in his limbs. He and Jensen are no strangers to long bouts of mating, especially after that first week together, but they’d at least gotten proper rest in-between. If he can’t do this, then…

No.

He tenses, his grip tightening around Jensen’s waist. He’s Jensen’s alpha, he’d fought hard to be recognized as Jensen’s mate. There’s no way he’s going to let anyone else so much as touch him.

Reaching between them, he runs his fingers through the copious slick leaking from where he and Jensen are tied.

“Hey, Jen, open up for me okay?” He traces three wet fingers along Jensen’s mouth, leaving white trails across soft, pink lips before slipping them between, and letting the come catch on Jensen’s tongue. He repeats the motion, Jensen’s tongue chasing his fingers this time, sucking them off as soon as they slip past his lips.

His knot’s gone down enough now for Jared to ease out of Jensen’s hole, making it easier for him to gather more of their mixed come as it trickles out. God, but this is his favourite part, marking Jensen inside and out with the proof of their mating. He slides his come-soaked hands across Jensen’s soft belly, fingers rubbing into the freckles and the streaks of Jensen’s release before gathering more and smearing come on Jensen’s hardened nipples. Jensen twitches and moans when the tip of Jared’s nail scrapes against the sensitive flesh.

He takes Jensen’s spent cock in hand, and Jensen bucks up into his grip, arching back helplessly. Jared takes his time, lining their dicks up and tightening his grip as he strokes them both to hardness. After so many rounds, it’s almost painful, the pleasure overtaking him too soon, and he’s close. Jared gently reclines Jensen onto the bed, before straddling his chest and guiding the head of his drooling cock into Jensen’s panting mouth.

Jensen suckles at the tip, tongue lapping at the rigid flesh and Jared can’t help but push in further until he feels the muscles of Jensen’s throat constrict around him.

“Fuck, Jensen…” Jared moans, eyes shutting in pleasure, before coming down Jensen’s throat, loving the way Jensen dutifully drinks him down. He pulls out of Jensen’s mouth so that the last spurts of his orgasm fall onto freckled cheeks, fluttering eyelashes and begging lips.

He drags wet hands into the short strands of dark blond hair, then down, massaging the remaining come into Jensen’s neck. Soon, Jensen is covered, glistening with the essence of them, and Jared could swear the fever is receding, except for how Jensen is still out of it, groaning and mumbling incoherently.

Dizzy with exhaustion, Jared continues, rubbing the scent of them into Jensen’s skin, losing himself in their bond until miraculously, his dick starts to harden again. He’s never been more thankful for his stubborn youth, or his insatiable sex drive when it comes to his mate.

Hands on the backs of Jensen’s thighs, he spreads Jensen’s legs apart and pushes his cock into Jensen’s abused entrance, loving the cling of the puffy rim along his dick. It opens easy and sweet for him, Jensen begging the whole time, and Jared sinks smoothly into the wet heat. No other alpha will have this – no one will see Jensen this way. No one else. His thrusts are rough, heartbroken and desperate. Please be alright.

He’s shoving into Jensen now, trying to get in as deep as possible, trying to carve himself a space inside Jensen’s body. His muscles ache, everything is sore, but he centers himself in the pleasure and thrusts harder, angling his hips until Jensen’s moaning brokenly. His knot grows slowly, tugging at Jensen’s entrance as Jensen kicks out with each pull and push at his hole. Finally, Jared ties them, Jensen crying out as the knot stretches him open one more time, as his body is filled with more come.

“Jared.”

Jared is lost in the abating physical pleasure, his mind going numb and losing hope. He lets his weight sink into Jensen as he sobs into the soft bedding next to Jensen’s head.

“Jared.” This time there are hands cupping his face, weak but insistent, forcing Jared to lift his head. “Are you okay?”

Jensen’s face is pale beneath the layers of sweat and come, but he’s smiling faintly, eyebrow raised in concern despite the fatigue in his eyes. It’s that small, private smile that he’s saved for Jared since they had been young pups tackling each other through the grass. He brings a hand to Jensen’s cheek, laughing a little when Jensen blinks, and he realizes his palm is still wet with his come. Rubbing his thumb into the plush dip of Jensen’s bottom lip, he vaguely recalls the healer’s words.

Unlikely, he’d called them.

Suddenly, Jared couldn't care less about his aching body. He outright grins, and Jensen smiles wider in response. Even shrouded in exhaustion and fading illness, it’s still Jared’s favourite smile. It’s his sun, and his clarity.

His cure for all ails.

[ FIC ] Forever is a Lonely Number (J2, NC-17)

souslelys — Wed, 02 Mar 2016 04:16:15 GMT

Wrote something for Jensen's birthday at the comment fic meme!

Title: Forever is a Lonely Number
Pairing: J2
Rating: NC-17
Words: +2850
Prompt: Jensen never ages, Jared does, but they stay together forever (from dugindeep)

Annnd plenty more fills and art for everyone <3

Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too!
A Jensen Ackles Comment Meme

Happy birthday you wonderful, beautiful man <3

[ Fic ] And Thus They Shall Fall (JDM/JA, NC-17) (1/4)

souslelys — Thu, 01 Oct 2015 05:25:49 GMT

Title: And Thus They Shall Fall
Author: souslelys
Pairing: JDM/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: +2300
Opera prompt: Giulio Cesare (by Handel): Monarchs of two opposing armies, Cleopatra and Caesar start a whirlwind affair that could bring both their kingdoms crashing down. for spnopera

Note: Jensen is 18yo.

AN: This is currently a WIP. Apologies everyone, I wish I could have finished it in time, but writing just did not work out with my schedule these past few months, and I didn't have the heart to cut it down and stuff it into a shorter story. I do intend to finish this, and I hope you enjoy this first part. Thank you to the mods for their generous extension, and for holding this challenge! And thank you to saltandburnboysfor her kind cheerleading <3

The lamplight has dimmed by the time his guards and officers file out, casting shadows over the deep red and gold fabrics adorning his chambers. The stress of the day lays heavy over Jeffrey’s shoulders, the triumph of his most recent victory in the battlefield already giving way to plans for the next battle, the next time he will stain his sword.

Whispers have snuck past his growing borders, the kingdom across the sea sharpening their blades, and setting ships off the coast in preparation. Led by ruthless sibling co-regents, he has no doubt of these rumours. If he does not strike first, they certainly will, and his people already covet the rich, fertile lands along the Great River.

And Jeffrey, Jeffrey lives at the whims of the people.

Sighing, he slumps over the table, crude clay markers spread strategically over the map of the land. His figure is the tallest, a laurel etched into the fire-burnt head. The opposing army, dyed dark gold like treasures to be taken, are scattered on the other side of the blue - his spies’ best guesses as to where they will be positioned.

He places a marker facing the enemy head-on in the waters, and another on a hidden port south of where the army has concentrated itself.

The tip of his finger fiddles with the golden figure, slightly tipping it forward. And thus they shall fall.

Two soft knocks and the chamber doors swing open with a groan, and he glances up as three servants file in. One places a plate laden with food upon his table, refilling the oil lamps as the other two shoulder a roll of rug into the room, setting it upon the ground before gathering up the existing carpet. He nods absently, dismissing them.

After months of travelling with his legion, he has learned to appreciate food that hasn’t been spoilt by the stench of blood and peppered with ashes. As he lifts a loaf of bread from the basket, a folded piece of papyrus catches his eye, trapped beneath the bowl.

Consider it a gift.

Every pulse of his veins suddenly thunderous in his ears, the word poison flashing through his mind.

“The food is untainted,” says a low voice out of the shadows. Jeff stands abruptly, hand closing over the hilt of his sword as the robed stranger in front of him steps forward, the unravelled rug at his feet. Firelight dances in the man’s eyes, luxurious silk tunic draped across slim shoulders, falling delicately around a trim waist and billowy, satin pants. The amused, honeyed voice speaks again through the shawl wrapped around his face, “It hasn’t been touched by my people, at least. Though I imagine a man like you would have enemies aplenty.”

“And what would you know of my enemies?” Jeff demands, voice dropping to Commander: rough dangerous tones that have soldiers scrambling out of his path. The man tenses but stays his ground, staring through the opening of his shawl. His clothing is thin, but flows loosely enough to conceal a small weapon. A dagger, perhaps. Jeff takes a step forward and to the side, blocking the way to the door.

“Plenty, I would say, since you would count me as one of them,” the man declares, pulling the shawl down, revealing short, dark hair, and a face still soft with boyish youth.

The same, striking face stamped into the coins they trade across the sea.

0-0-0

Jeff doesn’t kill him. He should - the prince’s pretty head would make a clear enough war declaration.

And yet.

“You transported yourself here - in a rug,” Jeff says, gesturing roughly at the rich purple-gold fabric with his sword hand, incredulity in his voice not quite masking how impressive he finds the feat. Daring, but foolish.

“Merchants are easily bought,” the Prince says, chin held high, valley-green eyes clear and bright. Proud and vulnerable as a caged bird. “And people do not make a habit of stabbing through a perfectly good carpet.”

“And should I expect the whole of your kingdom’s army to be delivered to my doorstep through the trade routes?” Jeffrey asks, taking another step closer, slowly crowding the boy against the wall, watching the nervous flutter of eyelashes. One shout, and Jeff’s men would come through the door, but he doesn’t want to call them in just yet. “Are you declaring war on the Republic, little Prince?”

“I’m not here to declare war, Morgan,” the boy says, irritation furrowing his brow. He straightens his back, no doubt to remind Jeff that they’re nearly the same height. “I want to negotiate.”

Josef and Jensen - the oddly named children of the river royalty. Jeffrey has been briefed about them. Josef being the older, broader-jawed and blunt-nosed brother, assuming the marble likenesses and busts are accurate.

So this bold, delicately featured boy must be Jensen.

“Does your King brother know you’re here, little Prince Jensen?” It’s amusing, watching indignant fury flit through green eyes again. Such a lively young thing. It would be a shame to send him back in pieces. There’s always the possibility of taking him hostage, demanding surrender. Jeff would emerge victorious without losing so much as a single soldier. Just a quick strike to the head, and the boy is his. It’s tempting, but curiosity has always gotten the best of Jeff, and he’s fascinated by the Prince in front of him.

Jensen jumps slightly when his back meets the wall, Jeff forcing him back with his mere presence.

Jeff knows the face of fear – has seen it on cowards, on his men in the battlefield, on his enemies the moment before he swings his sword – and he sees a glimpse of it in Jensen’s eyes, in the slight tremor of his lip. But he also knows bravery, and it’s clear in the determined set of Jensen’s jaw and the defiant posture of his shoulders.

Rare, for royalty.

“I’m here by my own right. To meet with you – one leader to another - to negotiate peace,” Jensen says with all the regality someone so young can muster. “To stop the war that you and my brother are planning.”

“Is that so?” Jeff stops, toe-to-toe with the boy, arm coming up to rest on the wall next to Jensen’s head. He’s smiling darkly as he leans in, other hand running lightly along the v-shaped collar of Jensen’s silk tunic, smile widening as Jensen tries to escape the touch by pushing himself back into the wall. He dips a finger beneath the collar, meeting with warm, smooth skin, nudging enough of the tunic aside to reveal honeyed freckles across his chest. “And what exactly are you willing to put on the table? I’ve no need for more gold pieces.”

From this close, he can see the curve of long, dark eyelashes¹, and Jeff is reminded of the virgins of his youth – wide-eyed and pink with innocence.

Jeff had only meant it as a tease, had wanted to scare the boy into retracting his bold words. Now Jeff can’t seem to tear his eyes away. A distant part of himself is telling him to stop, instinct built from years of experience flashing warnings in his mind – all of it - swallowed up by lust and siren fog.

There’s an offer here, heating the air between them as Jensen traps his gaze and draws him in, and Jeff has to wonder whether the sweet vulnerability he had witnessed a moment ago had been some sort of false lure.

It’s slow, the way Jensen lifts onto his toes to bring their faces together, mouth landing on Jeff’s as lightly as a butterfly – and Jeff surprises himself by how hungrily he rushes in to meet him.

His hand is behind Jensen’s head in an instant, saving the boy from smacking into the bare stone as Jeff crashes into him, rough scrape of his beard upon soft lips and sensitive skin, and his tongue dipping aggressively into the Prince’s warm, open mouth.

Jensen’s tongue slides against Jeff’s in gentle flicks, hesitant and unsure and Jeff presses into him all the harder, cock stiffening beneath his tunic, straining the linen. He drags his open palms down Jensen’s clothed back, and Jeff groans, drowning in dark pleasure as his hands easily span the boy’s slim waist.

He pulls back to look at the boy in his arms, uncontrollably digging his hips into Jensen when he sees the wet, reddened mess he’s made of the Prince’s mouth. There’s still determination in Jensen’s heavy-lidded eyes, but the green’s darkened, washed through with arousal. It’s not enough. Jeff wants to see him lost in every sensation, he wants to drink down every reaction he elicits from this beautiful boy with his mouth, his hands, his cock.

It’s all too easy to drag the boy into the bed in the centre of the room, pushing him flat on his back and then covering him with his body. The Prince’s tunic is askew, exposing more of that tempting collarbone and Jeff has half a mind to rip it off of him, to tear into the rich fabric and take the Prince in the tatters of his royal garments.

He moves to do just that, before Jensen’s hand catches him on his chest, halting his very breath.

“Do you accept?” Jensen asks sharply, moving to even their gazes, his breath hitching when Jeff’s cock grinds against his own.

“Am I the first?” The question comes out hoarse, rough with the very thought. He has his suspicions, but it’s difficult to believe that the people of the Kingdom could leave such a temptation untouched for so long. Hunger and jealousy fuel the desire building low in his gut, and he wants, so much, to be the one to take the boy first. But either way, he intends to own the young Prince, make him into a writhing, pleasure-bound thing that can only beg for Jeff’s mercy and touch.

He barely hears Jensen’s embarrassed whisper, but sees his answer in the flush that all but explodes across the boy’s face and chest, right up to his ears.

“Do you accept?” Jensen asks again through gritted teeth, still mortified with his own admission, and angling himself into Jeff, clearly worried he hasn’t guaranteed Jeff’s compliance.

Jeff growls, easing his hips up and off for the sake of his own sanity. He looks down at the boy beneath him, at everything that is being offered up to him on a platter - War the furthest thing from his mind - and the Great General has never felt more helpless than when the yes falls from his lips and he drops into Jensen once more.

The kissing is frenzied now, Jeff biting and licking plush lips until they swell with blood, hands tugging the boy’s tunic apart, slipping underneath to run rough fingers over the flat of the boy’s nipples. Jensen shudders, arching up, and Jeff traps him against the bed with his broad-shouldered weight, circling the hardening nubs and teasing with his nails. Jensen cries out softly at that, biting his own lip. Jeff feels the whole-body shudder all against his front.

Jensen’s tunic tears easily during Jeff’s exploration, revealing more and more of Jensen’s pale skin. Jeff wants to bite everywhere he can reach, wants every inch of him to ache with the memory of Jeff’s mouth. He starts at the base of Jensen’s throat, worrying his teeth into his skin, wondering which of the Kingdom’s infamously opulent pieces of jewelry the boy will need to wear in order to hide the bruising marks he intends to summon. He licks at the boy’s nipples, just to feel him writhe in his hold, before trailing his mouth down, down, down.

Briefly parting from Jensen, he reaches behind him to grab the salve from the foot of the bed, dropping it next to Jensen’s body.

Jensen’s pants are removed next, and Jeff roughly spreads Jensen’s legs apart, crawling up between them as he captures his mouth once more dipping his fingers into the small pot, coating them with slick. He nearly spends himself at the sight before him, Jensen’s parted legs and his hardened cock curving towards the plane of his stomach. Jeff cups his balls, rolling them gently and letting Jensen shudder and shake. His large hand wraps around Jensen’s dick, and enjoying Jensen’s high gasp as he begins to stroke, keeping his fist tight and gripping tighter and twisting his wrist as he passes over the sensitive head.

The boy is beside himself, legs dropping to the bed and feet flat and digging into the sheets. Beautiful. Jeff is relentless, letting Jensen thrust into his fist as he hastens his strokes until Jensen cries out, loudly and helplessly spilling over Jeff’s hand. He doesn’t let go until Jensen is whining and trembling at his touch.

There is so much that Jeff has planned for the boy, but it’s too much. Jeff all but tears his tunic and toga over his head, reaching for himself with the hand covered still in salve and Jensen, fucking into his fist with quick snaps of his hips.

He comes hard all over his fist and spurting across Jensen’s bare chest, like Jensen’s a common whore, and not royalty from across the sea. Jeff collapses next to him, exhausted and sated, trying to keep his eyes open. He’s well-aware despite words and sex pacts, the boy could still be a danger to him. But Jensen seems too dazed to move his limbs, settling instead into the soft pillows and sheets. With a sense of deep satisfaction, he sees the boy’s eyelids droop with unmistakeable fatigue, then fall shut. Jeff counts ten of Jensen’s deep, even breaths before succumbing to sleep.

0-0-0

--END PART ONE--

SNEAK PREVIEW:
He belatedly registers the groan of the chamber door, too caught up in the small whimpers the Prince is letting slip between panting breaths. The awareness of an additional presence, prickles and nags at his mind and Jeff forces himself to look up.

His second-in-command is standing at the gap between the open doors, his soldier’s helmet still in his hands and a few messenger scrolls in the other, surprise clear across his face.

“Damn it all Jared. What do you want?” Jeff curses his lieutenant, wondering what in the hell he’s thinking. It’s then that he notices Jensen peering through the gaps in Jeff’s arms trying to blink past his dazed arousal.

The expression on Jared’s face schools back into that of a soldier. “A message from the fleet commander, sir.” Irritatingly enough, Jensen suddenly stiffens beneath Jeff, suddenly alert and listening.

It also doesn’t escape Jeff’s notice that while his lieutenant is speaking to him, his eyes are on Jensen, as if Jeff doesn’t have the boy naked and pinned to the bed with his hips.

Something shadowy and possessive makes Jeff snarl, trying to cover as much of Jensen from sight as he can. “Leave the scrolls on the table, and get out.”

Jared does so quickly, head bowed. Jeff will have to deal with him later.

0-0-0

AN: Thank you for reading!

[ Fic ] Ne Dis Jamais, Jamais (Sam/Dean, NC-17)

souslelys — Sat, 22 Aug 2015 16:25:05 GMT

Title: Ne Dis Jamais, Jamais (AO3)
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2400
Pairing: Sam/Dean (technically Sam/Dean/OMC)
Notes/Warnings: DP, bottom!Dean, barebacking, comeplay, possessive!Sam, slight Dean/OMC

A/N: Flash fic for salt_burn_porn! Thank you to riyku for the prompt Never Say Never and to wendy for being such a great mod for SBP and for being so understanding about my morning formatting crisis :)

Summary: But the idea of it – Dean stuffed to the brim, sweet and pliant as two cocks pound into him, leaving him impossibly open – sticks itself to the inside of Sam’s head, taking command of his thoughts and his dick.

ETA October 12/15: Fic is now fully edited (+400 words) and posted on AO3 :)

Sam’s hands are already itching to grab the shotgun next to the bed. Above him, Dean sighs, breath fluttering and soft, nerves and pleasure flitting across his face as his hips move in hurt, shocky rolls that have Sam’s thighs shaking and his body arching up. He’s snug inside his brother, tight heat wet with lube and come from an earlier round. He’d wanted Dean loose and relaxed for this, but as soon as the bed had dipped down for the third time, Dean had gone rigid with tension.

Sam watches the unhappy tilt of his brother’s face; he’s beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea. Truthfully, he’s not too thrilled himself, trying to ignore the wrong, foreign feeling of long fingers sliding tight against his dick as they stretch Dean out. He’s not sure if Dean is having more trouble with the fact there’s a stranger in their motel room or the fact that he’s about to take two dicks for the first time.

Dean had given himself away in a game of Never Have I Ever, in which Sam had resorted to referencing motel room porn ads just to hear Dean’s incredulous, snort of happy laughter over the noise of the bar. Dean’s a hot fuck, willing to try anything Sam brings up, but his tastes do tend to be on the vanilla side. It’s sweet actually, and Sam won’t admit to the pleased glow in his chest after each admission - that his brother still has firsts Sam can lay claim to.

One of their most recent forays with run-down motels had been a rent-by-the-hour deal with sketchy sheets and even sketchier TV channels. There was one ad in particular that took up the entire left side of the screen – a dirty blond sandwiched between two bulked-up meatheads. It had a ridiculous title in gaudy font and Sam had forgotten about it until now, kinky enough that Sam can’t resist putting it into play. He throws Never have I ever been DP’ed across the bar table, expecting Dean’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion, or for him to laugh it off just like he’d done with all of Sam’s other, porn-inspired Never’s.

It had been Dean’s eyes, widening with undeniable recognition before skittering away to the pool tables – away from Sam – that had Sam’s gut sinking with disbelief and the urge to hunt down the men who’d taken this piece of his brother.

But Dean hadn’t picked up his drink, instead coughing into his fist as if that would hide the flush that had reached his ears; his face full of guilt and shame that Sam hadn’t seen between them in a long time. Sam’s mind throws back to Stanford, all those untold days and nights that Dean had spent on his own after their Dad had left. It rankles Sam, beer can denting in his grip. Squirming under the scrutiny, Dean had shot him an irritated glare: well, aren’t you going to take a drink, Sammy?

Oh. Oh.

Air rushing back into his lungs, the relief so strong he’d only been half-aware of the beer running down his fingers. But the idea of it – Dean stuffed to the brim, sweet and pliant as two cocks pound into him, leaving him impossibly open – sticks itself to the inside of Sam’s head, taking command of his thoughts and his dick. He Truth or Dares it out of Dean a few days later (his brother never could resist a challenge), and next thing he knows, he’s scoping out a Third for their bed.

It has to be someone big, because the brief mention of it has Dean restless again, face red and heated, but also someone safe, so that Sam could incapacitate the guy if necessary.

He ends up picking a guy from the bar, a wide-shouldered man around Dean’s height, with jet-black hair, pale grey eyes and a nose that reminds Sam of that Dr. Sexy character Dean likes so much. Not that Dean will be spending much time looking at him if Sam has anything to say about it – but it’s the thought that counts.

Sam’s never had any interest in sharing his brother before, so they’re both out of their element with this guy – whatever his name is. Sam had swiped his wallet, just in case something happens, but he hadn’t bothered to look or ask for details beyond proof he’s STI-free. Sam doesn’t offer his name or Dean’s name either, figuring the guy would learn them soon enough (they’ve never been particularly quiet during sex). Maybe it’s rude not to exchange particulars but Sam doesn’t care. He’s already letting the guy stick his dick into his brother, he doesn’t want to put the man’s name into Dean’s mouth too.

No-name, Bar Guy and Stranger are all creepy and inadequate, so Sam settles with calling the guy Tall, Dark and Handsome. TDH. Dean would get a kick out of that.

And tonight is for Dean, after all.

They’re up to three fingers now, and Sam is going crazy with waiting and trying to hold still, hips making aborted little thrusts upwards. He can feel the tension in his brother’s muscles as he runs a soothing hand over his back.

Dean needs to relax or this is going to hurt him.

“Dean.”

There’s no response, save for his brother’s nervous, hitching breath.

“Dean.” Sam takes his brother’s face between his hands, forcing their eyes to meet. The bright field-green of Dean’s eyes never fail to make Sam’s heart skip, and they’re still beautiful now, even as they shine with thinly-veiled vulnerability.

There’s a tap to his leg and Sam quickly signals negative. The bed dips again as TDH shifts around, feet on either side of Sam’s legs as he crouches behind Dean.

Dean must sense that the show’s about to start, because he damn near bites through his own bottom lip, eyes darting behind him as if Sam would let Dean get fucked without warning. Dragging his brother’s face even closer, Sam kisses him, tongue parting Dean’s lips, gently exploring before pushing deep into his mouth.

Dean kisses back, doesn’t know how not to, not when it’s Sam, and Sam isn’t afraid of using that.

Once he’s sure Dean isn’t going to turn away, he sneaks a hand down between their bodies, wrapping it around Dean’s cock as he strokes from root to tip, Dean unsurprisingly hard and thick in his hand. The familiar girth of his brother is comforting to Sam, his thumb running over the dripping head, skimming the smooth length and the thick vein along the underside. Dean groans into Sam’s mouth, making Sam smiles against his brother’s lips, his fingers rolling and massaging Dean’s balls, heavy and full against his palm.

This. The heat between them, Dean falling apart with a touch and handing over every single piece of himself on a platter. This, he’s known – wanted, owned, protected – for years. And it burns the core of Sam that someone else is witnessing this, how docile Dean is when he’s split open, how damn exquisite he is when he’s being fucked. But Dean isn’t the only one willing to give his brother everything.

Dean’s slowly sinking onto him now, chest-to-chest, weight settling firmly on top of Sam as the tension in his limbs fade. He’s twitching, grinding into Sam’s stomach and eagerly chasing his lips.

It’s now or never.

Sam breaks the kiss, but continues his firm pulls of Dean’s cock between them. Dean’s heavy-lidded gaze finds Sam’s, and Sam tilts his head. Ready?

There’s an unexpected clench trapping Sam’s dick and TDH’s fingers together as Dean tries to blink away his apprehension and Sam freezes, groaning at the sudden spike of pleasure, chest rumbling against Dean’s. He presses his mouth against the pale curve of Dean’s throat, tasting the salt and sweat on his skin. It’s Dean, everything Sam’s known his whole life, and the taste of his brother grounds him in the overwhelming rush of pleasure. Finally, Dean relaxes again, giving two slow nods – shaky but determined.

Sam places two soft kisses upon Dean’s brow before lifting his hand again to signal TDH to continue.

The tip of TDH’s condom-covered dick presses against the edge of Sam’s balls and Dean’s rim, slowly teasing forward, testing the give and resistance. Sam’s kissing all over Dean’s face now, stroking him again as the pressure increases at the base of his own cock. It feels odd, this pushed-aside tightness, and it’s far too intimate with a stranger for Sam’s comfort.

Dean’s breathing stutters and gasps as TDH’s cock finally pushes past his rim, popping in and stretching him wide and Sam feels the thick flare of the head slip in all at once. It’s a hot, tight fit and he can imagine the stretch of Dean’s rim as he accommodates the both of them. It’s no wonder Dean is tightening up on them again, hurt noises falling from his lips as he tries to regain control, eyes blown wide with arousal and cheeks shiny with tears he has no control over.

Fuck, but Dean is gorgeous like this. Sam wants to thrust up so badly, shaking in his bones as TDH slowly slides against him. His brother is keening softly above him, leaning forward as if he can escape the sensation of being filled beyond his limit. Sam is thankful for TDH’s silence, he wants to enjoy Dean this way - wants to hear every single sound his brother makes.

“Dean, God – clinging to us so tight. Two huge cocks, letting us in -s so fucking good. You’re doing so good,” Sam babbles, the pressure doubling within Dean’s shared space as TDH’s hips meet the curve of Dean’s ass. TDH is looming over Dean’s back, knees settled outside of Sam’s and they both groan when TDH uses his weight to press against Dean. Dean’s legs give way, spreading even wider and sinking lower onto Sam’s cock, whining as he goes.

Sam and TDH pause for a moment, afraid to move, afraid to break the beautiful boy between them. Fuck, there’s no space inside Dean now, he and TDH must be filling every bit of him up. Dean makes small, jerking motions with his hips and desperate pleasepleaseplease’s are tumbling out of his mouth, and Sam just can’t wait anymore.

They end up both thrusting in at once, forcing a pained, choked sound out of Dean, but Sam recognizes the small upward curve of Dean’s lips, the look of bliss on his face. This time Sam’s thrusting first – hard and deep – and TDH pushes in as Sam pulls out. It becomes a rhythm, taking turns pounding into Dean. The moans are just falling out of his brother now, his head pressing into the space above Sam’s shoulder, feeding every single delicious whimper directly into Sam’s ear.

“Sam. Oh fuck. Sam.” Dean pushes back onto the cocks impaling him, and Sam can’t help himself, losing the rhythm on purpose so that he and TDH both shove into Dean at once, forcing him unexpectedly wide. Dean fucking screams.

“You look so damn good, taking both of us,” Sam groans. “Beautiful. So beautiful. You like this, being filled up until there’s no room inside of you for anything except cock. So greedy for it. You fucking love it, don’t you big brother?”

The last part comes out as a fierce whisper, but Sam doesn’t imagine the faltering thrust from the man above them. Dean might care, he could never stand other people seeing Sam as anything less than morally upstanding, but Dean is beyond coherency right now and Sam doesn’t give a fuck what TDH thinks of them.

“Tell me you love it,” Sam says without letting up, he’s perched right on the edge of orgasm, muscles and lungs working overtime. “Tell me you love being stuffed full.”

“God – fucking – damn it,” Dean manages between thrusts. “Sam you – don’t make me – please, you know –“

“Tell me,” Sam demands, turning his face towards Dean and licking into his mouth to steal what little breath he has left. “Tell me, and maybe next time we can find a third cock for that pretty, cock-sucking mouth of yours.”

“Hnnng fuck, yes – I want that, I fucking love it – being full – harder please – Sam – Sammy,” Dean begs desperately, and Sam breaks rhythm again, lifting his hips a little higher and fucking nails his brother.

Dean’s scream leaves his ears ringing, but he doesn’t care, too swept up in the crushing pressure around his cock, and Sam gives one final deliberate thrust just as TDH pushes in, Dean jerking in his hold and Sam comes so hard his vision whites out, a tidal wave of pleasure overriding his consciousness.

0-0-0

The first thing Sam’s aware of is the soft sound of kisses, and the unmistakeable low groan from Dean’s throat. His hand shoots out to grab the shotgun from the nightstand and he blinks the world into focus –above him, he takes in Dean’s dazed expression as he presses back into TDH who’s still plastered to Dean’s back. The other man has Dean’s jaw in his large hand, tracing his mouth over Dean’s throat, and jaw, angling for his mouth.

“Get the fuck out.”

Fury is a wild thing inside Sam and he’s an inch from blowing the guy away.

The guy yelps, letting go of Dean and throwing his hands up, scrambling off the bed. He probably hasn’t even had time to slip the condom off before he’s yanking his clothes on. Not that it matters to Sam. By the time the guy is out the door, Dean’s a dead weight on top of him, smiling in his sleep, each breath deep and satisfied.

Sam pulls him up into his arms, cuddling him to his chest the way he’s only allowed when Dean is pliant and well-fucked. He drags his hands down Dean’s sides, counting ribs and freckles and bruises before sliding to Dean’s ass. Slowly tracing over Dean’s fucked-out hole, Sam easily dips two of his fingers inside, enjoying the warm, wet cling of the abused rim. He bites gently on the side of Dean’s neck, rubbing his come into Dean’s inner walls.

Sam fully intends to make good on his promise, but it’s safe to say he won’t be sharing his brother for a while.

---
AN: Thank you for reading!
Title comes from the Styx song Never Say Never
Here are the rules for Never Have I Ever

A/B/O Fic Rec

souslelys — Sun, 05 Jul 2015 04:42:19 GMT

Ooh! Before I forget, I made an A/B/O fic rec post over at spn_themes! Please check out all of the awesome fics here. They all ended up being J2 fics lol.

And by the way, Happy 4th to all you people from South Canada ;)

Drunken!J2 Wishlist & spn_cinema claim

souslelys — Fri, 05 Jun 2015 02:35:14 GMT

✘ What do I want? A vid of them singing Shakira's Hips Don't Lie. I can see y'all making fun of me right now, but WAIT OKAY. Have you heard The Fray's cover of that song?

NOW IMAGINE JENSEN STRUMMIN' ON DAT GUITAR AND SWAYIN' AND DRAWLIN' AND SINGIN' SPANISH and talkin bout people readin' the signs of his body.

NOW IMAGINE JARED DOING THE "SPEAKING" PARTS.

Hahaha honestly, this cover is one of my favourite things. I lose it every time they get to the end and start yelling random names (ROWAN ATKINSON! EWAN MCGREGOR!). Am I too easily amused? Perhaps. Sorry. Pfft. Anyways.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

✘ I claimed 'Gone Girl' at spn_cinema! I recently watched the movie and I adored it and also I realized how much I need Jensen (whispers)

slitting throats and staging his own murder

GOSH. It's a pretty dark and messed up story though. The ending - the ending reminds me of our fandom haha.

**NSFW WARNING: blood, violence, sex under the cut. Also direct spoiler from the movie**

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(credit) In case you're worried - Jared would not be NPH in this scene haha.
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I've also yet to delve into the porn pile from last Sunday! I intend to though, can't wait to read all of your fics (and I think there are meanttobe fics too? YAY, more for me) ;u;

TWO birthdays?!

souslelys — Mon, 01 Jun 2015 22:46:45 GMT

Gosh... two... how should we handle this, Jensen?

/cough it seems Jensen is rather pre-occupied, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY amberdreams and big_heart_june!!!

My f-list wouldn't be the amazing place it is without you two, thank you for being your wonderful selves and sharing your light and love with us \;u;/ I hope you both had amazing days!

❤ Love Meme ❤

souslelys — Sun, 17 May 2015 18:49:54 GMT

Hey y'all,

Back from vacation, which was wonderful and fun! I have stories I'd like to share, if I have time this week :) I wish I could say that J2 had as wonderful a week as I did, but unfortunately our boys are having a difficult time. And with their crazy schedule, being away from their families for so long, it's no wonder. I hope Jared is getting a good rest with his family and I hope Jensen will be able to rest soon too! I'm so proud of JA for holding up at con so well, being extra-sweet and open, trying to make the con good for all the fans missing Jared.

I know some of my friends are having a tough time right now too, and I hope that you all have someone in your life that is there for you when you need it (and I am here if you ever need an extra-someone!). I hope all is getting better, and that things are looking even the teeniest bit up, but in the meantime, let me love you?

♥ LOVE MEME ♥

full meme | my thread

"Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons" aka Supernatural: the Game

souslelys — Mon, 20 Apr 2015 00:42:18 GMT

THERE ARE TEARS ALL OVER MY FACE OKAY - I JUST FINISHED:

"Brothers" is a beautiful indie game from a Swedish developer and was getting some really positive reviews when it came out, but me, being particulary "brothers-sensitive", had a feeling it would completely ruin my life so I kept putting off playing it. I finally loaded it up this weekend and -

- I was right.

Summary: Brothers is a short, story-based indie game about two brothers who embark on a journey to save their dying father (and you guessed it - their Mama died due to a tragic accident that is part of the Little Brother's backstory).

Which, as sleepypercy had pointed out last night, is Basically Supernatural.

Then I mentioned that the Little Brother's hair reminds me of Sam - and cherie_morte kindly supported my thoughts:

Also, the Little Brother's name is Naiee (which is just like "Sammy" right?)

I don't want to make this post a review of the game (though it was AMAZING, and creative and beautiful with wonderful story-telling and game mechanics), but I would recommend it to anyone who enjoys story-driven games, especially with stunning art. Also if anyone is still stuck on what they can write for spn_joystick, this would work really well!

It took brotherly codependency to new heights - you controlled both brothers at once and the puzzles throughout the game involved paired teamwork - one literally could not continue on without his brother (I haven't taken my Sam-N-Dean goggles off, can you tell?). I think that had a lot to do with why it broke my heart so thoroughly.

Quick highlights (still have the Wincest goggles on? Good. Be warned for spoilers.)

The Brotherly Controls (Cherie dubbed it "pornography")

THE FACT THAT IF THEY WANDER TOO FAR APART THEY CALL EACH OTHER'S NAMES

Little Brother is scared of water, so he has to cling to Big Brother while swimming ;u; so cute

Look at these cuties riding goats!

The Near-Death Experience Mandatory Brotherly Hug

The ~~Jealous~~ Irritated Little Brother

SURPRISE WERE-SPIDER (-gasp- seriously, that girl could LEAP FROM WALL TO WALL and the boys didn't suspect anything? Amateurs.) Should've listened to Little Brother.

And well, this happened (which is about the time I started sobbing).

They made it to the Tree of Life! BIG BROTHER TELLING LITTLE BROTHER TO GO ON, GOTTA GET THE HEALING WATER FOR DAD.

LITTLE BROTHER'S BACK WITH THE WATER - BUT... oh no QOQ

I COULDN'T EVEN HOLD THE CONTROLLER I WAS CRYING SO HARD.

He dug this grave with his bare hands I WAS NOT OKAY

His farewell.

And well... the last bit of the game is Little Brother making his way back to finally save their father. After controlling TWO people for the entire game, you really feel the loss, you're only using one side of the controller now and it just feels so unbalanced (which I feel adds that extra bit of heartbreak to the story). There are some fantastic moments in the last few scenes where Little Brother finds the strength to face the challenges alone, with some encouragement from his brother (should you use the Big Brother's interact button, you hear his voice in the wind).

I should mention that this entire game has no dialogue (or perhaps it's in Swedish? I'd associate it with the Sims where they SOUND like they're having conversations but it's all gibberish. You only really recognize the boys call each other's names) but it still conveys its story wonderfully.

It's a very short game (compared to others) but there were so many amazing scenes and moments I didn't cover above. It's beautiful and definitely worth playing, y'all. <3

Shall we go forth and write all the AUs?

#SunshineAndErection & SpringFling Recs

souslelys — Wed, 01 Apr 2015 22:41:34 GMT

Hello everyone!

Recently, I've met a lot of cool people in the aftermath of spnspringfling and also really amazing people from twitter, and gosh, y'all have me walking on clouds. I'm so happy to meet all of you!

Usually if I happen to meet a bunch of new friends all at once, I like to do memes to ~~annoy~~ get to know everyone, but I think I may hold off for now, since I've been wanting to hunt down a voice meme *u*

For now, let me leave you with my new favourite description ~~of Jensen~~:

(for those that require context)
sorry Felicia.

Speaking of SPNspringfling, I hope everyone had a chance to read the wonderful fics or see the amazing art over there, if not, I have a few recs for you! (my comments are in green, like Jensen's eyes)

EDIT: I FORGOT TWO OF THEM. Sorry, added now!

[ ART ] Myths or Legends (J2, PG-13) by sillie82 for ME! :') LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL ART RIGHT NOW, the colours, the grace, the attire, the WINGS. So much <3

Punishment (Sam/Dean, PG-13) by keep_waking_up This broke my heart, so wonderfully written with perfect mythos.

Cemetery Dreams by (J2, NC-17) by ephermeralk CHEERLEADER!JENSEN, BEAUTIFUL STORYTELLING, SURPRISEMONSTER!JARED. Apologies, I'm yelling.

Letters From A Half-Finished Boy (Sam/Dean, R) by homo_pink Haunting and beautiful and I will never not love Sam keeping a journal.

Frozen Truths (Sam/Dean, R) by viviansface I adore post-apocalyptic stories and I adore this wonderfully written one <3

Set Out Running (Sam/Jensen, R) by tebtosca Painful and achy and perfect for anyone who needed an S8 fix-it.

[ ART ] Only Came For My Princess (J2, PG-13) by chomaisky Hilarious, awesome art. Explosions + J2 = A+

Here be ~~dragons~~ wyvern (J2, R) by zara_zee Funny and sweet and WYVERN. Definitely a good read.

[ ART ] Please, Can I Touch (Swesson, NC-17) by amberdreams Hothothothothothothot. Also Swesson. Goodness.

Sing the Streets a Serenade (J2, R) by deirdre_c Guitarist!Jensen and sweet, adorable dork!Jared and just -melts-

This isn't an exhaustive list, but I did love these. I failed to read many of the fics due to time issues QnQ so please feel free to rec some for me as well!

Addtionally. My contribution to the fling: Show Me My Heart (Sam/Dean, NC-17).

EDIT, the 2nd: It has been brought to my attention that wincestbigbang is looking for artists (as well as authors). Sign-ups are on-going until June! Please check it out guys! :)

[ Fic ] Show Me My Heart (Sam/Dean, NC-17)

souslelys — Tue, 31 Mar 2015 16:17:35 GMT

Title: Show Me My Heart (AO3)
Pairing: SamDean
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~2250
Warnings: Weecest, underage!Sam (15y), blow job, voyeurism, masturbation, mirror sex, bottom!Sam
Notes: Newly edited. Written for chomaisky's prompt 'Hall of Mirrors' at spnspringfling - original post here.

Inspirations: Partially inspired by this gifset *u*.

Summary: He doesn’t know if the curse reveals his heart’s greatest wish, or his future, but he aches with wanting, heart beating impatiently, wondering when he'll get to touch – to love – Dean that way.

“Hey. Earth to Sammy,” Dean says, all Big Brother, toothbrush jabbing between Sam’s ribs before leaning over to spit into the sink. “Quit daydreaming. You’ve got five minutes, pipsqueak.”

Wide-eyed and slow, Sam pushes through the white noise in his head and wills his arm to move, toothbrush dragging over his molars where it had been stationary for the past minute. Dean’s turned back to the mirror, gelled fingers quickly running through his short hair, pink tongue peeking between his teeth and clearly oblivious to the heated embrace playing out right in front of him.

Luckily, the dim lighting in the motel bathroom masks the blush unfolding across Sam’s face. He’s hallucinating. Vividly. Must be. Sam blinks, then blinks again.

It’s still there.

“I’m serious Sam, five minutes,” Dean repeats as he ruffles Sam’s hair and leaves.

Dean’s reflection leaves with him, extracting himself from Sam-in-the-mirror’s arms and walking out of frame with significantly messier hair, and noticeably swollen lips.

His Dean is nagging at him from the other side of the door, but Sam can barely hear over the thundering of his pulse.

0-0-0

Dad’s nose, dark brown hair grown longer than Sam’s ever had it, light hazel-green eyes. He picks apart the details again and again; the conclusion never changes.

Sam’s never been particularly vain, would rather avoid being reminded of his gangly teenage limbs and his perpetual baby face. But that’s not who he sees in the mirror anymore.

His reflection is at least ten years older than him, typical Winchester-plaid stretching over wide shoulders and muscular arms. He’s grown up – he’s handsome.

Sam’s hands reach up to feel the roundness of his cheeks, then to his ears, grabbing at air while the mirror man’s fingers close over shaggy strands. Disappointment meets insecurity, wallowing in his chest. He can’t help but feel stuck on the wrong side of a Before-and-After spread.

This is who I will be, he thinks, poring uncomprehendingly over the transformation his 15 year old self will eventually take. He’s like two ends of a disjointed chain, has no idea how one links to the other.

The first time he sees Dean’s reflection, he has to stop himself from gasping out loud because Dean – Dean is beautiful. He’s always thought so, his annoying big brother too pretty to be real, but the Dean in the mirror (undeniably him: the expressive green eyes, the fan of his eyelashes over freckled cheeks, the pink, pouting lips) has clearly been gifted by time, rather than burdened by it. The Other Sam seems just as enamoured, staring at Dean with a soft, fond smile that Sam recognizes all too well.

Dean catches on to his sudden fixation with his reflection, and Sam is tempted to reveal his new secret, wants to tell Dean that his freckles don’t go away like he’s hoping, and that Sam loves it, loves him – now and ten years from now.

“Never seen your face before, Sam-I-Am?”

Sam pays his brother no mind, too busy watching himself lean down (he’s taller, oh God) and pressing smiling lips to Dean’s.

0-0-0

They had been after the spirit of a witch who’d been haunting an abandoned fairgrounds. He and Dean had entered the rickety, paint-peeled building that housed the ‘Hall of Mirrors.’ He remembers examining a peculiar frame – the sudden cold. Dean yelling. The world exploding.

He remembers waking up after, cradled in Dean’s arms and all the mirrors around them reduced to glass dust.

The air had been heavy with the smell of magic, like sweet, settling smoke. Turns out their father had found and torched the witch’s tent – Marie-belle’s Matchmaking – just as her ghost had found Sam.

He blames the fervent, new-onset horniness for his missing the obvious. This must be a curse, some sort of death magic.

The thing is, Sam’s fairly certain he’s not supposed to enjoy being cursed.

0-0-0

Dean’s across from him in the diner booth, pigging out on food and relaxing into the seats the way he does when Dad’s away and it’s just the two of them.

Sam’s own food is untouched, his stomach in knots as he dazedly watches Dean make out with him in the faint glare of the window, where Dean’s kissing him as enthusiastically as he’d downed his burger and fries beforehand. His large, adult hands are cupping Dean’s face, Dean’s fist still closed tight in his shirt from when he’d pulled the Other Sam over the booth table.

“Huh. Good eye Sammy, she’s a hot one.”

Distracted, he follows Dean’s gaze out the window where a leggy teenage girl is standing in the parking lot (just past the reflection of their heated kisses), talking to her friends. Dean is looking at her with the kind of appreciation that Sam can’t seem to swing his way with his awkward, lanky body – unlike Sam in the mirror, who claims Dean’s admiration so easily.

He doesn’t know if the curse reveals his heart’s greatest wish, or his future, but he aches with wanting, heart beating impatiently, wondering when he'll get to touch – to love – Dean that way.

Dean-of-the-present is waggling his eyebrows at him, but Sam just rolls his eyes, stuffing fries into his dry mouth so he doesn’t have to respond. In his peripheral vision, the two of them are finally separating, panting and pressing their foreheads together, shiny, spit-slick mouths mere inches apart.

Sam’s lips tingle for hours.

0-0-0

He really is a researcher at heart, surrendering to the curiosity plaguing his mind until he finds his answers, and the curse provides a well of questions, factors and limits he’s eager to investigate. But there are just some things Sam does not want to know.

Dean’s taken the Impala to fill up on gas before they left town, leaving Sam with their father to pack up. They’re loading their bags into the truck, and Sam is determined to avoid looking into the side mirror – or any other reflective surface, for that matter. It makes him nauseous, thinking about the possibility of the curse showing him –

- he gags, bile rising at the thought, lodging in his throat.

In the end, it’s all for nothing. His eyes catch on a puddle pooling around a flooded storm drain right next to where his father’s standing, speaking gruffly into his phone.

His relief is heady. He doesn’t see his father’s reflection at all.

0-0-0

It quickly develops into an addiction.

The images follow him as they walk down the street: he and Dean are kissing, touching or groping in every window, every shine of metal they pass by. Sam learns to wear long shirts and baggy pants whenever they go out, feeling horny and inadequate and terrified of being caught out.

He’s not even safe in the Impala. Riding shotgun to his brother is usually his favourite place to be, especially when they’re alone, and their father is blazing ahead of them in his truck. Today, it provides new (delicious, tempting) torment as Sam presses his flushed cheek against the cool, passenger side window, eagerly taking in the sight of the Other Sam’s long body bending over the bench, head bobbing between Dean’s legs, spread encouragingly wide in the driver’s seat, a strong hand clenched tight in his hair.

He’s blindingly hard, tilting his hips away so Dean doesn’t notice. His dick throbs with the rhythmic grip of Dean’s hand, pulling at the Other Sam’s roots. His gaze jumps from window to the ‘V’ of Dean’s legs in quick succession, mouth watering with each passing minute. He can practically hear the wet sounds and moans through the reflection – he’s two seconds away from lunging at Dean’s fly.

Sam almost cries with gratitude when they pull over, Dean hopping out to use the gas station restroom. Finally alone, one soft touch and Sam’s coming and coming into his boxers, mouthing desperately at the glass where their reflections just vanished.

By the time Dean gets back to the car, Sam’s shorts are sticky and uncomfortable, and he’s wiped the imprint of spit and condensation off the window.

0-0-0

Two weeks later, a swamp monster’s claws slash Sam’s thigh open. Quick as the Impala can take them, Sam’s laid up on the motel bed, pain killers diffusing through his veins. The room’s got a wide mirror on the wall across from the bed, but no towels or anything of use. Their father’s off buying more first aid supplies from the Pharmacy they sped by. In the meantime, Dean’s using his bunched up jacket to elevate Sam’s leg, and blankets for the blood while Sam watches his brother work through the mirror.

For once, their counterparts aren’t determined to sex each other up. The Other Sam is injured just like he is, laying back as Dean stitches the two of them up. He has a clear view of Other Dean’s face, the Big Brother Worry plain as day, but there’s a reverence to each movement, each gentle pull of the needle.

Guiltily glancing back to his 19 year old brother, Sam’s muddled mind is startled to see a matching expression on his face – Dean looks flayed open, like every pained breath Sam takes is tearing him apart. The Other Dean leans down to press soft kisses to each stitch he’s left in Sam’s skin. His Dean doesn’t, but Sam feels loved all the same.

0-0-0

Their first time (or rather, the first time Sam watches) is in a tacky retro motel, the only one for miles – the greasy-moustached desk manager shrugging at them, Sorry only got singles left – you payin’ or not?

Dad ends up in his own room, while Sam and Dean shuffle into the other, unspoken that they’ll share a bed tonight.

Exhausted, Sam settles onto his back, while Dean lies on his stomach, wrapping his arms around his pillow like someone might snatch it away while he sleeps. It’s been a while since they’ve shared, but they know their places, and Sam looks forward to the morning, when they’ll no doubt wake up, limbs tangled and inseparable.

There’s light shining in from the parking lot streetlamp, pouring through the window like a fog light. The ceiling sparkles and shines, and it takes Sam a moment to realize he’s staring up at tiled glass.

His eyes fly open, the scene above him making the skin under his shirt collar flush hotter than even the dirtiest porn Dean’s stolen from rental stores. The Others are naked, Dean’s freckled back exposed and bare, ending in the enticing curve of his round ass, and the long extension of bowed legs. He’s on top of Sam-in-the-mirror, trapping him against their bed, and they’re kissing, clinging to each other with raw desperation. Sam’s arms are around Dean’s neck, but Dean has one hand in Sam’s hair, and the other is moving out of view and – oh. Oh.

Sam’s fully hard in an instant, back arching as he watches Dean’s arm work, slow thrusts that make the Other Sam jolt with each push. In the mirror, Dean continues his movements until the Other Sam hitches his hips up impatiently, mouth shaping around silent whines.

Long legs are hitched over Dean’s shoulders, bending him near in half and Sam gets half a glimpse of Dean’s cock pushing in, and his breath leaves his lungs as if he were the one being pressed into the bed.

Soon, Sam’s got his own pyjama pants pulled down to his thighs, and his hand is wrapped around his own dick, moving his fist to the sharp thrusts of Dean’s hips. Other Sam is burying his face into Dean’s neck, no doubt muffling his moans, but Sam’s got nothing to impede his gasps and whimpers. The visual feeds pleasure right into his spine, and Sam can feel it right down to his toes, curling and pulling up flat on the bed, wishing he could feel Dean above him – inside him too. Dean-in-the-mirror speeds his thrusts, both Sams caught in the rhythm, each of them arching and writhing desperately.

Like true reflections, they come at the same time, Dean’s name escaping from their lips like a shared prayer.

It’s pure bliss, and Sam melts into the bed, twitchy with the after-shocks of pleasure rumbling in a low thrum along his limbs. Fist and stomach covered in come, Sam tries to get a hold of his breathing, panting harshly into the quiet night.

“Sammy.”

Sam’s head whips around to his Dean, who is wide awake and watching Sam with dark green eyes, lashes lowered intently. He’s frozen, can’t bring himself to move, not even when Dean rolls over him with dizzying grace, mumbling Sammy again before finallyfinallyfinally pressing warm lips to his.

It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like them-in-the-mirror (not yet, he thinks), but Sam feels like he could come all over again, nerves singing from the sweetest touch he’s waited so long for.

He lets his eyes flutter open for a brief moment, peeking up above to see the Other Dean collapsed and sleeping as Sam holds him close. Their eyes meet, Other Sam pressing the lightest kiss to Dean’s temple before smiling down at Sam, hand lifting in a small wave.

His Dean picks that moment to lick into Sam’s mouth, tongue curling along his, and Sam’s eyes fall shut as he traces Dean with soft, shy flicks.

When Dean pulls back, lips hovering a breath away from Sam’s, Sam spares one more glance at the tiled glass above.

He sees everything he’s ever wanted.

---

AN: Thank you for reading! Thank you to everyone who commented during the Spring Fling and thank you to the amazing mods for hosting such a fun challenge. <3

[ Fic rec ] Masquerade Round 2!

souslelys — Thu, 19 Mar 2015 05:08:06 GMT

There were so many amazing fills this round, and I probably missed a lot, but these ones managed to catch my eye (and my heart). I hope you enjoy them as well!

In no particular order (my comments are in green, like Jensen's eyes):

Semi-Charmed Kinda Life (J2, NC-17) by ephermeralk - unstated underage (high school), prostitution, serial killer!Jensen, bottom!Jared HOT and also perfect serial killer!Jensen

Chanel N°5 (J2, NC-17) by tebtosca - infidelity, age difference (Jared early-20s/Jensen mid-30s), barebacking, toys, toppy!Jared
Summary: Jensen doesn't remember the time before he first sees him out the kitchen window. Jared takes what he wants and is just - relentless and taunting ahhh

Growing Pains (Sam/Dean, NC-17) by cherie_morte - underage
Summary: AR after 10x12: Sam kills the witch who put a spell on his brother before they get a chance to restore him to his proper body. Dean is stuck in the body of a 14-year-old, and Sam should really keep his hands to himself. SUCH A GOOD. Everything I ever wanted from 'About a Boy'. Which was: hot sex and heartfelt brothers <3

Baby Steps (J2, NC-17) by cherie_morte - underage (14/18), psuedocest (possibility of real incest, no confirmation so entirely up to the reader), exhibitionism, tie kink, and come play (facial)
Summary: AU: Jared is nine years old when his mom marries Jensen's dad. Wicked and perfect and brothers and of course, a Cherie-style twist.

ART: Royalty by becc_j - Prompt: One is a king and the other can be a servant, his best friend, another king SO BEAUTIFUL, and Jensen looks so dang good in a crown.

ART: Jensen as a burlesque performer by petite_madame I want to frame this. It is everything I could ever dream of from a prompt like this. So decadent and beautiful.

Sugar Baby's Finest Hour (J2, NC-17) by homo_pink - Lolita!Jared, Dubious Consent, Crossdressing, Age Difference, Size Kink, Hebephilia, Infidelity
Summary: He was J, plain J, in the morning, standing five feet ten in dirty socks. He was Tristan in slacks. He was J-Pad at school. He was Padalecki on the dotted line. But in my arms he was always Jared. By the last lines of this fic, I was crying my eyes out. Beautiful fic and writing, as always.

Every Man Has His Price (J2, NC-17) by anon - Jensen/OMCs, noncon, gangbang, bikers, bottom!Jensen
Prompt (WIP): A drunk Jared offers Jensen to the bartender instead of money. Jared finds it really funny, Jensen just tries to pay and drag Jared out of the bar.
But the bartender and his biker friends take the offer very serious. Jared is still laughing, until he sobers up, trying to protect his boyfriend, but then it's already too late. Right up my alley in terms of kinks - but it's unfinished and no one has claimed it yet. ;n; (I will wait for you author!anon)

Thank you to friends who helped me confirm my mysterious art!anons :)

Please feel free to make your own recommendations to me! There's no doubt I missed out on some great fills.

Oh also! A few may remember that in the first round of the masquerade, I filled a military boys!J2 prompt (my first ever J2 fic!). The prompt had stood out for me, and I just had to write it. The marvelous OP revealed themselves as isoughtyouout!

Well this round, I filled the were-spider!Jared prompt (another prompt that had climbed into my head and stuck to me) and by some crazy twist of fate, the OP ALSO happened to be isoughtyouout! TWICE IN A ROW! Such a cool coincidence. Such great prompts. Thank you for the inspiring ideas my dear, I can only hope to find you in the next round as well <3

[ Fic ] Tangled Web ( J2/NC-17 )

souslelys — Sun, 15 Mar 2015 16:52:49 GMT

Title: Tangled Web [ AO3 ]
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~4500
Warnings/Kinks: were-spider!Jared (no transformations), serial killer!Jared, possessive!Jared, pretty/prey/bottom!Jensen, boyfriend kink, bondage, barebacking

Summary/prompt: "Jared is a were spider. He is a serial killer who seeks out the prettiest prey, gives them the fuck of their life and then traps and kills them. It's compulsive and he needs to hunt and kill. Until he meets Jensen, all he wants to do is take him home and have hardcore, nasty, illegal sex with him. But if he does that he will want to kill him afterwards. Cue Jared fighting his animal attraction, and compulsion to mate with Jensen. Maybe in the end he finally does take Jensen and is able to resist his animal compulsion post orgasm."

fic originally posted here for the spn_masquerade

The body folds into the box remarkably easily – still warm and loose-limbed and lifeless. He’s already forgotten the man’s face; couldn’t distinguish this mark from countless others, can’t recall the colour of his eyes, or the quality of his smile. They’ve begun to blur together, his fleeting mates – all of them young and pretty and dead.

Smirking, he lazily walks two fingers along the curve of the man’s spine, up to his broken neck. Such an easy target, he muses.

Fresh satisfaction filters deep into his muscles, settling into his bones and easing the persistent itch that had plagued his mind. Jared’s not sure what he enjoys more, the hunt or the endorphin-filled aftermath.

The service down the hall will be finishing up soon, and Jared will be needed in the foyer. He moves efficiently, two arms working as quickly as eight, as he arranges the rest of the body over old Mrs. Warner’s corpse, pressing them carefully together. Luckily, she was a small lady, leaving plenty of room in the coffin for another.

The viewings are over, and once the casket is sealed, it’s only left for Mrs. Warner’s family to bury her. There will be beautiful words, black gowns, and tears as they put her deep, deep into the ground along with Jared’s latest secret.

In a few days, news stations will catch on to a young man’s mysterious disappearance, police and their dogs and search parties will follow useless leads: the victim’s favoured locales, even surrounding towns, but not a single one will think to search a fresh, newly mourned grave. People will give up, they will forget. Then Jared will be free to strike again.

The casket closes with a final, resounding thud, and Jared sees Jensen for the first time.

0-0-0

There are tears in the most captivating green eyes that Jared has ever seen, bright and sad in the sunlit room. He’s used to pretty faces, but this man is stunning, beauty beyond any of the marks Jared’s ever encountered – long-lashed with pouting, pink lips and a trim body wrapped up in a fitted black suit and tie.

A mourner, then.

The man’s dark-blond hair is styled neatly, and all Jared wants is to run his hands through the gelled strands, rub his scent into his skin and make a blushing, dirty mess of him.

The man is tugging at the knot of his tie, throat working as short, gasping sobs shudder through him, trying and failing to compose himself. So wrapped up in his anguish, he doesn’t notice Jared’s presence until a moment later, startling himself enough to jump back, shocked out of his weeping.

“Sorry – I’m sorry, I thought this room was empty,” the man says, clearing his throat, thumbs wiping away tear tracks as discretely as possible. Jared follows the movement with keen eyes. Vulnerability rolls off the man in waves, and his senses start to reawaken, pushing aside the clinging lull of satisfaction. “Sorry to disturb you.” With another sniffle, the man heads for the door as if he still has a choice, as if he hasn’t just stumbled into Jared’s web.

“Wait,” Jared says, moving forward to stop him at the door, and picking up the loose ends of the tie hanging around the man’s open collar. “Your tie…”

Their sudden proximity causes reddened-eyes to glance upwards in panic, the man realizing just how big Jared is.

Jared’s taller than most, shoulders wide and intimidating, and there’s obvious strength in the bulk of his arms. But the size of him is offset by the friendliness in his face, and the soft curve of his chin-length hair. He casts the first thread and smiles, knowing how it hides the predatory slant of his eyes.

The beautiful man relaxes, caught in Jared’s smile. He’s easy to read, with his big eyes and flashing billboard expressions. Jared’s gaze is hungry, taking in the charming spread of light freckles across flushed cheeks.

Shiny, his instincts scream, greedy and magpie-like. Take. He has to grip his control tight, reel it in close like some snapping dog. The muscles in his jaw flicker as his deft fingers quickly loop the tie into a knot. One flare of instinct springs free and the fabric accidentally pulls too tight, causing air to puff helplessly over soft lips. As good as a tease. Jared immediately mutters insincere apologies before loosening the tie comfortably around the man’s neck.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jared says, putting on his most empathetic face, casting the second thread. “My name’s Jared, I’m an employee here.”

“Jensen,” the man replies quietly, still wide-eyed and pale from crying. He’s fiddling with his tie again, looking dazed. “Thank you.”

“Are you with the Ackles family, or the Warners?”

“Ackles,” Jensen says, clearing his throat again, voice rough as sandpaper. “My father.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jared says again, low and so soothing Jensen unconsciously sways forward. He boldly places a consoling hand on Jensen’s shoulder, squeezing briefly. The skin of Jared’s palm sparks, sharp awareness heightening his sense as he marvels in the intensity of the connection, even through the layers of clothing. Liquid lust scorches through his veins, curling through his mind and fuelling the need for release – for la petite mort in every meaning of the phrase.

It would be so easy to kick the door shut, to trap Jensen against the wall, to fuck him until he’s wrung every moan of pleasure from those pretty lips. He wants to see that beautiful body writhe and arch, every inch of freckled skin at his mercy.

What’s more, he wants Jensen to prostrate his soul before him, to give himself up in unerring totality – something Jared’s never wanted, nor needed before. It’s confusing, this new desire to hold back and wait. The more familiar part of himself wants to own Jensen’s final joy, then squeeze the life from him before the last of pleasant tremors have travelled through his limbs.

His father’s conveniently open casket is only a few doors away, after all.

Jensen must have some semblance of self-preservation, balking under the growing malevolence in the room and finally moving away, shaking his head out of its trance.

“I should get back,” he says, glancing at Jared nervously. There’s timid interest in those striking green eyes - and fear - but there’s no seduction. Only a sweet, undeniably innocent light shining back at him.

How cute. His boy had been raised on childhood dreams and love, with a big, affectionate family that believes in polite gentlemen and proper ladies. The opposite of every warm body Jared’s tumbled into his bed.

A dead man’s sweat is dry on Jared’s skin, body broken and forgotten just a few feet away. He couldn’t care less; not with this new, fascinating creature right in front of him.

He only smiles as Jensen slips out the door, and stumbles away.

0-0-0

It’s easy to find Jensen’s contact information amongst the funeral home’s family files and invoices. Jared decides to be kind, granting his new boy a few weeks to grieve over his father’s death. When he does call, the phone only rings twice before Jensen’s polite voice rolls smooth as whiskey over the line. Jared grins, slow, ends of it reaching ear-to-ear. He asks a few questions about the detailing on the father’s tombstone – ‘just to be thorough.’ They get to talking.

Yeah, Jensen says, Coffee sounds good.

0-0-0

His boy is 25, four years older than Jared’s ID claims to be, a fact he passes off as ‘good genes’ when Jensen shoots him disbelieving looks. They’re sitting across from each other in the café, and Jensen’s fiddling with the plastic lid on his cup as he talks about graduating from Texas State University, about their physical therapy program and the practice he just joined. He rambles and apologizes for it, sending Jared shy, pleased smiles whenever Jared laughs at the right moment, or says the right thing.

“My dad always wanted me to be an actor like him, and I did try some modelling,” Jensen says, rubbing the back of his neck. They’ve been talking for hours, and the baristas are starting to side-eye their table, eager for the moment they can swoop in with their cleaning cloths. It’s actually quaint, this mundane get-to-know-you conversation. Rather different from the filthy grind of hips against dirty nightclub walls that Jared’s used to. “I just- I don’t know. I never wanted to disappoint him by doing something different, but given the circumstances…” He trails off, lifting his eyes from the small café table to glance at Jared meaningfully.

“You like your privacy,” Jared finishes for him. “I can understand that.”

Jensen nods, smiling gratefully before taking another drink of his coffee. “He never knew about the – the guys.” Jared’s eyebrow arches, and a hot pulse of possessiveness ricochets through him. How much has his boy done, how far has he gone? “I – I never told him. When Dad was still around… I don’t think I could’ve done this, you know?”

Jared‘s lips curve upwards. How kind of Daddy Ackles to clock out just in time for Jared to discover his son. Jared tracks the flash of tongue that sweeps across pink lips. Jensen is an utter temptation. With his looks, with those expressive green eyes, he could have easily made it as an actor or a model. He could have left for California and never looked back. He could have escaped the fate Jared has planned for him.

Jared tilts his head, letting his bangs fall into his eyes as he charmingly smiles at Jensen. “I’m glad you gave me a chance.”

Jensen beams at him. He must have kept that secret from his family for a long time. That’s fine with Jared. Let Jensen reveal the pieces of himself nobody else gets to see. More for him to own, more for him to hoard.

“What about you? How’d a happy guy like you get wrapped up in the funeral business?”

“Oh, you know – family stuff,” Jared says vaguely, with a sheepish shrug. He had learned early on that he needed a safe place for the bodies he’s accumulated over the years. Handlers of the dead: funeral workers, morgue assistants, coffin-makers – nobody gives them a second thought, nobody thinks to question those who already deal with death so frequently. “Been in the business for years.”

“Family business,” Jensen smiles, nodding with approval. “I can respect that.”

He almost laughs. Jared thinks of his mother, how she’d strangled his father with her own hands a few months before Jared was born. He’s not sure how she’d held out for so long; his kind aren’t inclined to long-term relationships. Some prey are meant to be savoured, she’d told him.

She’d taught him the art of their nature, the thrill of it, but convenience has been the main factor amongst Jared’s hook-ups. After all, why should he expend effort when there are those so eager to be caught by him?

Jensen though - Jared could tell from the beginning that this one would take time. His achingly pretty boy isn’t going to fall into his bed after a single cup of coffee. Not the way Jared wants him – not the way he’s compelled to tie him up and own him: heart, body and soul.

Some are meant to be savoured.

Jared watches with amusement as Jensen stares into his cup and frowns, tilting it sideways. He’s practically pouting.

He wonders about Jensen’s coffee addiction, wonders if he’s just as adorable caffeine-free and disoriented in the morning. It may be worth seeing, just once.

“Can I buy you another?”

0-0-0

A second coffee becomes dinner the next evening, and Jared gets the first taste of his boy.

Embarrassingly enough, he’s walked Jensen to his door like the sappy date he’s pretending to be. Jensen seems to appreciate it though – the way he’s leaning into Jared, bashfully looking up at him with a flutter of long eyelashes.

Jensen is asking to be taken so, so sweetly - has been testing the reluctant grip Jared has on his self-control all evening.

They’re nose-to-nose, Jensen’s gaze firmly fixed on Jared’s lips. He hovers an inch away, his control fractioning away with every breath they share. There’s a twinge in the back of his head as he finally closes the distance between them, unable to help himself. The first touch of their lips ignites the wild in him, obliterating rational thought from his mind.

He parts soft lips with his tongue, dipping into the wet warmth of Jensen’s mouth. His hand slides along the short hairs on the back of Jensen’s neck, pressing him closer as the other hand settles at his waist.

He thinks of Jensen pinned up against the door with only Jared’s hands gripping his wrists, and the force of his thrusts holding him up. He entertains the thought of leaving Jensen on his own doorstep for his neighbours to find, a fucked-out effigy of pleasure.

Jensen pours moans like honey into his mouth, hesitantly cupping Jared’s jaw and drawing him closer. Jared just wants to consume every sound, every breath. He wants to have Jensen now, instincts already taking over and sharpening the world into focus, driving him to fuck, kill.

Closer, closer, closer, demands the feverish-chanting in his head. He pushes until he has Jensen trapped against the door, lock rattling with the force of the impact. He’s all over Jensen, skin lit up with fire and Jensen’s clutching at him helplessly, hips making small abortive thrusts upwards.

It’s a shy flick of tongue against his that shocks Jared out of his frenzy, the gentle, inexperienced movement a reminder that he wants more than the spread of Jensen’s legs.

Breaking the kiss feels unnatural, like pulling two attracting magnets apart, and Jensen makes it so difficult to be good, the way swollen pink lips follow Jared’s as he pulls away.

He breathes in deep, trying to ground himself, trying to ignore the scent of Jensen’s cologne and subtle arousal. It takes every ounce of control not to dive back in and bury his teeth in the curve of Jensen’s neck.

Jensen shuffles his feet, red with embarrassment and looking more than a little dazed. Poor boy probably thinks he took things too far, too fast.

If only he knew how far Jared would let him go, how far Jared would take him.

“I really like you,” Jensen suddenly blurts out, eyes widening in mortification a split-second later. The high school confession catches Jared across the chest like a well-placed kick, rattling something loose within him. It’s nothing he hasn’t been able to figure out on his own, but hearing it, hearing the vulnerability in Jensen’s voice –

- Jared shudders. His fool of a boy doesn’t realize how close he is to death. Pressure is building behind his eyes with the effort it’s taking to hold himself back. He can’t stay much longer.

Carefully holding his breath, he presses a lingering kiss to Jensen’s heated cheek. “And I’m terribly fond of you, Jensen Ackles.”

0-0-0

Weeks pass by, and the blissful boyfriends act stretches Jared’s control cheesecloth-thin, his desire seeping through the growing gaps while holding the bulk of him at bay. He slips, sometimes, but Jensen takes it as a progression of their relationship, happily encouraging Jared’s increasingly rough embraces, and the dark purple marks that Jared leaves with sharp teeth.

Jared’s yet to sleep with him, but his reasons to restrain himself are slipping away, thinning out in the wake of the growing need that calls for release – that demands death.

He meets Jensen’s friends at the bar where they’re playing for the night. Chris and Steve are friendly enough, but their eyebrows disappear into their hairlines when Jensen introduces him. He’s not sure if their surprise is due to his lack of breasts, or his sheer size. They hold off on giving him their blessing; Chris in particular looks at him with suspicion, watching him out of the corner of his eye, like Jared is something that is stalked, rather than the stalker. Well. The man isn’t his type, but Jared desperately needs a kill and soon. Perhaps Chris will give him a reason.

There’s a vibration in the air somewhere off to his right, like a thread being plucked, and Jared ignores Chris’ dad-with-a-shotgun posturing to look over his shoulder.

His vision stains scarlet, and he’s shaking as rage overflows, burying the little patience he had.

Jensen is being pressed into the bar by some dead (soon, soon) meathead that evolution must have skipped over. The man’s arms bracket Jensen’s hips, closing in around him as Jensen leans back as far as possible, trying to get away but only succeeding in exposing the long line of his neck to the dead, dead, dead fucker.

Distantly, it registers that Chris is looking at him strangely, but not a single part of him cares, not when there are somebody else’s hands on his boy. How dare they touch Jensen so freely, to leave their fingerprints on skin that Jared’s claimed as his?

“Come on now, just one kiss pretty boy –“

“Fuck off, buddy –“

“Is there a problem?” Jared practically growls, walking right up to the two of them and yanking the man off of Jensen one-handed. Mutilation was never his game, but he wants to chop the man’s hands off, burn every inch of skin that came into contact with Jensen’s.

“Jared,” Jensen says, fear from their first meeting resurfacing in his voice.

“Hey dumbfuck, wanna let go of me?” Jared’s hand is still clenched tight in the back of the guy’s cheap dress shirt. The man’s one of those middle-aged, beer-bellied, used-to-be-jocks that never stopped believing they were God’s gift to the world. This one is particularly unintelligent, and a coward despite his alcohol-fuelled bravado. Jared’s seen the type. Probably came straight from the office, hoping to catch the interest of some young thing.

Well that was his mistake.

The instant he lets go of the man’s shirt, the guy is scurrying off, Jared silently tracking his escape out the bar door.

“You okay?” He wraps his arm around Jensen, pulling him in close and nuzzling at his neck. Jensen’s scent has been polluted by that disgusting man, vile sweat and body odour clinging to his boy and Jared’s fury reaches his breaking point, instincts crashing and filling up his head.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks,” Jensen says, then hesitating, “Are you okay?”

Jared doesn’t answer, just hooks an arm around Jensen’s waist to bring their bodies flush together, and kisses Jensen hard – licking into his mouth with unrestrained hunger, the feeling of bloodlust rising to the surface and he pulls back to bite down on Jensen’s full bottom lip, lapping up the metallic taste of blood before twisting his tongue back inside. Jensen’s entire body jerks in his tight hold, moaning loudly at the stinging pain and earning them a catcall from the other side of the room.

“Mine.”

The entirety of Jared’s frenzy is at the surface, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the room visibly darkened with the lethal intent he’s focusing on Jensen now. Finally.

Jensen sags against him when Jared breaks the kiss, panting and gasping for air. Jared can feel Jensen’s erection against his thigh, hot and hard like a brand. He leans in, biting at the upper curve of Jensen’s ear, licking it once. His voice pitched low and feral. “Say good-bye to your friends, Jensen.”

0-0-0

Jensen meets Jared at his car, and they’re 20mph above the speed limit all the way to Jared’s house.

They leave a path of destruction in their wake – overturned end table, fallen picture frames, and haphazardly strewn clothes all along the main hallway and into his bedroom. Jensen pushes away, shy grin turning wicked the longer Jared’s eyes devour him – his innocent boy is unrecognizable, a mischievous and exquisite creature as he strips, revealing acres of freckled skin.

All of him, all for Jared.

The time it takes for Jared to rid himself of his clothes and to finally, finally get his hands on Jensen is a short eternity. It’s an addicting high, the feel of endlessly smooth skin against his and the scorching heat of their erections pressed together. It nearly short-circuits his brain, God, feeding into his frenzy like nothing he’s known before. He guides Jensen down to the bed, licking and nipping everywhere his mouth can reach. The damned man’s scent is almost gone now, replaced with Jared’s wild smell – but it’s not enough, not nearly enough, and he starts sucking bruises into the flesh beneath his teeth, massaging his saliva into the reddened patches as Jensen squirms and begs.

He has enough human left in him to remember the lube, uncapping of the bottle from the nightstand as he coats his hand liberally before reaching between Jensen’s legs, and finding Jensen’s small, exposed entrance. The ring of muscle flutters under his touch, impatience getting the best of him as he immediately sinks a slick finger into the furled opening.

“Ah!” Jensen yells before he sinks back and groans. Jared’s too lost in the heat and tight and first to pay much attention, and soon it’s two, then three fingers twisting inside and loosening the muscle.

He’s been unbearably hard since they left the bar, wild need surging up inside him as he slicks himself up with quick strokes, aligning himself and pushing right in. Jensen sobs at the intrusion, mouth working as his entire body tenses beneath Jared. His boy – oh his boy is perfect.

White sparks across his vision as Jared forces himself deeper - he’s relentless their first time, taking and taking and taking until Jensen’s screaming beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist and hands clawing for purchase every time Jared slams into his prostate.

It’s fast and filthy and neither of them last long, Jensen yelling into Jared’s mouth as he comes, and Jared follows, spilling into the impossibly tight heat, marking Jensen deep inside.

Jensen falls back limply onto the bed, come leaking out of his entrance as Jared slips out.

Lust is still a low thrum within his veins, but it allows him some clarity to work. He starts a path along the length of Jensen’s outstretched arm, starts biting with intent, letting hidden fangs scrape all along the sensitive skin of his inner elbow, licking along the pulse of his wrist.

“Wh-what’s happening…?”

“Shhh,” Jared hushes and Jensen visibly starts to relax as the venom enters his system, limbs sinking onto the bed. It’s only a mild-paralytic, humans tend to metabolize it within minutes – but it serves Jared’s purpose. Unravelling the long, red fabric wrapped around the bedposts, Jared wraps the silk around Jensen’s slack wrist, soft and smooth as the delicate skin it covers. Red flows through his fingers as he weaves and threads, kissing along the rest of Jensen’s other arm as he fastens each wrist to the bedposts.

He kisses down his legs next, wrapping the silk around Jensen’s ankles. There are hooks and rings attached to the ceiling, and Jared takes a moment to loop the ends of the threads into the ceiling rings, lifting Jensen’s legs up, keeping them suspended in a vertical spread, perfect for Jared to crawl between.

By the time he’s done, Jensen is bound in an open sprawl across the bed, body slowly regaining its full strength as he starts to pull at each of the binds. He’s beautiful, caught in Jared’s web, delectably laid out for Jared to devour.

“Jared?” Jensen asks, a little groggily. Jared just smiles, taking Jensen’s cock in hand and stroking fast, tightening his grip as he passes over the head. Jensen may not have full faculty of his limbs yet, but Jared knows he feels everything, and he revels in the weak cries falling from Jensen’s mouth.

“Jared – oh God, ah please, please,” Jensen starts to beg, as Jared settles between the open ‘V’ of his legs, relentless in his strokes. Jensen is leaking all over his hand, and he can tell he’s at the edge when all of the muscles in Jensen’s abdomen seem to contract at once. It’s at that moment Jared lets go, smirking when Jensen writhes in frustration.

Jensen feels just as perfect the second time Jared thrusts in. He holds Jensen’s suspended calves, loving the way the muscles beneath the skin twitch, the way Jensen’s toes flex helplessly with every push of his cock.

“More, harder,” Jensen pleads, and Jared speeds his thrusts, Jensen grunting breathy unh-unh-unhs with each push, struggling against the binds and pulling them taut in his desperation.

Jared’s orgasm builds differently this time, pleasure gathering at his core, but there’s a pressure in the back of his mind, calling for him to kill. He tries to stave it off, not wanting this to end, wanting Jensen, his beautiful, beautiful boy, beneath him forever but the pleasure spikes when Jensen unexpectedly clenches around him, sending Jared tumbling off the edge, vision whiting out for a few blissful moments as he collapses onto Jensen.

His hands are around Jensen’s neck when he comes to, and for a second Jared thinks he actually did it, actually killed his Jensen – but then he sees Jensen's chest move, breathing deep and exhausted. Jared’s palpable relief settles in his chest.

Without the accompanying pleasure, the pressure in his head is even greater, more urgent, and his indolent satisfaction making his control slippery, and he has to wrestle it down. “Jensen,” he whispers heart-heavy, pressure breaking apart his restraint. He kisses slack lips because he was close, so close. There’s no response, and that’s probably for the best.

0-0-0

His bare footsteps are inaudible in the garage, stepping up next to the trunk and popping it open.

Terrified eyes look up at him, the man from the bar fully awake and screaming through his gag and thrashing in his binds. This man touched Jensen, forced himself upon him like he had any right. Jared gets his hands around his fleshy neck, pressing down hard into his wind pipe, throat convulsing and soon, the screaming stops.

It’s a revelation. As the pressure inside of him eases, contentment filtering in from all angles, Jared thinks of Jensen, fucked-out and sleeping quietly upstairs. He thinks of how men easily flock to him, try to touch what belongs to Jared. He thinks of how satisfying it would be to eliminate them.

Jared smiles. He and Jensen may work out after all.

---

AN: Thank you to OP for the awesome prompt! :) and thank you so much everyone who read this - first, for giving were-spider a chance and second, for all of your kind words and comments at the masquerade! I know some of you were trying to guess who I was, I hope you got it right (or that it was a pleasant surprise <3 ). You've all been so overwhelmingly supportive and it made me so happy <3 Thank you so much and see you all next round!

P.S this quote from Jensen showed up on my dash at midnight (practically) just as masquerade closed. How eerie is that?

You have no idea, Jensen.

Hair kink teenage!Sam and Yearning hands!Dean (Twitter shenanigans)

souslelys — Tue, 10 Mar 2015 18:00:57 GMT

Sharing with permission from homo_pink! Thank you hun :)

Summary: I have a lot of feelings about Sam's S1 baby hair, and homo_pink has an amazing tag for teenage Sam's journal on tumblr. Then she proceeded to drown me in with Sam's hair kink and Dean's yearning hands. Gosh.

It's short, but it does get a bit nsfw under the cut. I wanted to save it for posterity (and fic ideas *u*).

SO. MANY. FEELINGS.

[ Fic ] Transparent Heart - MASTERPOST (J2/NC-17)

souslelys — Sat, 21 Feb 2015 04:18:38 GMT

Title: Transparent Heart
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: +9200
Warnings/notes: invisible!boys, sex while one of them is invisible, blindfolds, table sex, crack

Summary: Turning invisible every time he pops a boner is plenty to be ashamed about, in Jared’s opinion. [ for the 2014 spn_reversebang ]

Art Link(s): LJ
Fic Link(s): AO3

Acknowledgements: I must thank sleepypercy for being my beta and giving me such valuable input and being so kind and only laughing at me a little. YOU ROCK HUN <3

I must also thank my amazing artist amberdreams because writing this fic was a CHALLENGE from start to finish - I don't think I've ever had to work around such a difficult schedule in my life, but she understood that I need to get my university priorities straight and was a great ally in helping me get this done. SO THANK YOU MY DEAR, for not only this brilliant art, but for your patience and being so wonderful. WE DID IT <3 (PLEASE CHECK OUT HER ART HERE)

And of course, thank you to the mods, for holding such a great, fun challenge in the first place <3 Always something to look forward to :)

Happy New Year! + Cards + Fic Rec

souslelys — Thu, 01 Jan 2015 23:51:02 GMT

Hello everyone! I hope 2015 is going well for you all! -big hugs-

I just wanted to say thank you so much for all of the beautiful cards :) You guys made my Christmas! (and you're all so crafty - I love it)

Mine were delayed because I was ordering specific stationery and it came in super late. I'm so sorry. BUT! THEY ARE NOW ALL DONE and will be mailed out asap. So... I hope you like your AFTER CHRISTMAS cards haha.They'll be travelling to beautiful, far away lands u___u I hope they arrive okay!

Also: If you haven't heard yet - the wonderful, amazing cleflink wrote me a fic for the spn_j2_xmas exchange! I don't think I could've gotten any luckier ;u; PLEASE GO READ THE SOULMATE BRILLIANTNESS:

Title: Experiments in Magnetism
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Word count: 6570
Rating: PG
Warnings: Swearing
Summary: Jared's too busy trying not to fail out of college to care that he hasn't found his soulmate yet. Honest.

[ Fic ] The Devil You Know (Sam/Dean, NC-17)

souslelys — Tue, 30 Dec 2014 19:55:54 GMT

Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean, [ + Crowley, Meg, Castiel ]

Word count: +7000 words

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: none (fluffy boy king!Sam?)

Summary: [ Post Season 5 ] For the prompt: “Sam is the King of Hell. Dean is his consort and loyal bodyguard. Crowley is the advisor. Castiel is the diplomat, Meg is the head of the army.” aka Hell: Sam Winchester Style.

A/N: Written for osmalic for the spn_j2_xmas gift exchange - I'm sorry for the lateness, thank you so much for your patience my dear. Have a wonderful New Year! I hope you enjoy. :)

READ AT: [ AO3 ]

---

If you're reading this - SORRY SOMER ;o; I really tried to resist my fluffyschmoopy tendencies. Oho but maybe I'm just saving my darker side for you? ;)

Also if anyone wants me to put it up on LJ too, I can - but I find it so much easier to post longer fic on AO3.

Do we really live on the same planet as this man? ( + Challenge things)

souslelys — Sun, 09 Nov 2014 00:14:04 GMT

HIS ARMS. HIS PROFILE. HIS CHEST. I am dead. And covered in engine grease too?! Come on.

Hello! Sorry for the inactivity lately! With the SDMB and my midterms its been pretty busy - but speaking of, you should definitely check out yanyann's amazing art for the fic - I can't say enough how lucky I was to work with her.

I also wanted to thank you guys for being so supportive of me, and for reading the fic on LJ or AO3 or wherever - you are the best. I'm so grateful for all the feedback (and maybe a little starstruck haha). It's my first SD fic, first fic over 10000 words... I learned a lot by writing it ;u;/ So thank you thank you for the encouragement!

Now spn_reversebang is starting up and I was fortunate enough to claim amberdreams's art, The Invisible Men so I'm really excited to start working on that fic. Such a great idea! And the art was awesome. You can have so much fun with invisibility prompts - hopefully she'll like some of my ideas (-waves at- ;u;).

OH! And I was able to catch the local ComicCon and got this poster of our boy! And a super great Bioshock poster that I think sleepypercy will appreciate.

Anyways, I plan to catch up on everyone else's SDMB fics this weekend! Feel free to rec some to me - that way I'll know where to start! <3

[ Fic MASTERPOST ] They Say You Die Twice [ Sam/Dean, NC-17 ]

souslelys — Wed, 05 Nov 2014 02:17:33 GMT

Title: They Say You Die Twice
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Words: 13,700
Warnings: angst, barebacking
Summary: [ Season 3 post-Mystery Spot ] As the time on Dean’s deal is drawing to a close, Dean takes Sam to a run-down ranch to recuperate after the days that Never Were, so that Sam might have at least one moment of perfect peace to remember him by - just in case. Unbeknownst to the boys, the nearby forest has its own unique way of preserving memories. (partially inspired by this kink meme prompt).

Written for the samdean_otp Minibang (2014).

READ FIC ON LJ or ON AO3

ART MASTERPOST HERE

Acknowledgements: Big thank you to Danielle loftyxmelodizt, the girl I can turn to for anything, even beta for my silly fics. Thank you for putting up with my fic talk, and letting me inflict my writing on you. And well, getting me through life in general. You are the best friend I could ever have.
Bigbigbig thank you to yanyann, the artist I was so lucky to get paired up with, thank you for your patience and understanding and the beautiful art. I couldn't have asked for a better person for my first time doing the challenge! EVERYONE GO TAKE A LOOK AT THE ART! IT'S AWESOME AND MARY THE SHEEP IS ADORABLE.

Fic Rec

souslelys — Thu, 23 Oct 2014 02:26:39 GMT

Title: Pun, or, the Confession of an Unrealistically Reliable Narrator by necrora
Pairing: J2
Rating: Mature
Warnings: mpreg
Summary: Dating your co-worker is hazardous at best, especially when you both work for the same superhero team. Dealing with an unexpected pregnancy with said co-worker—who’s grumpy and hormonal and knows how to turn into a direwolf at whim—is even riskier business. Finding out that your unborn baby has been prophesized to defeat the world’s greatest evil is just too much.
Now evil is out to hunt Jared, and everything he loves and everything he didn’t know he wanted but now can’t imagine life without. And really, he’s all for dying for his true love, his child, and maybe the world, but at least someone could have warned him before fate offered him up to be the modern day James fucking Potter.

---

Just dropping by with a quick rec :) This fic made my day when I read it earlier this week - it's fun, silly and a wonderfully written superhero J2 story. The art is quite beautiful too. Definitely a recommended read! Please note the warnings.

♥

Trend this, sucka!

souslelys — Wed, 08 Oct 2014 04:00:27 GMT

You are so embarrassing.

Do you even know about sentences? Grammar? Normal phrases?

I'm not even going to talk about your sunglasses.

Or your hair.

Or your hand.

Or your face.

I hope everyone is having a good premiere day! YAY HAPPY SEASON 10 YOU GUYS! I'll have to catch the ep tomorrow ;) but I don't mind spoilers if you want to scream about it.

SERIOUSLY THOUGH HE'S PASSENGER-SIDE IN A CONVERTIBLE WITH SUNGLASSES ON AND AN AWESOME HAIRCUT AND FLOOPY LIP FACES AND GORGEOUS HAND POSES COME ON GIVE ME A BREAK AND JUST TWEETING LAME THINGS WITH SELFIES THAT COULD BE MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR ADVERTISEMENTS I GIVE UP

shacha if your're reading this, stop laughing at me (also I demand cuddles)

Fic Rec

souslelys — Sun, 05 Oct 2014 21:03:09 GMT

Just a Puppet on a Lonely String (J2, NC-17) by hunenka
Summary: Jensen was of royal blood, a successor to the throne. But then the Ackles kingdom fell and now he’s naked and in chains, standing on a stage to be auctioned off at the slave market, and Jared, the warrior responsible for Jensen’s fall, is very, very interested.

One of my favourite fics is now FINISHED (and 10 chapters! I am so happy)! I couldn't rec a fic more hot or epic ('epic' as in gorgeous storytelling, world-building, characters). Guh, definitely worth a read. Or five.

THIS .GIF IS SO IMPORTANT

souslelys — Fri, 03 Oct 2014 20:12:36 GMT

(gif credit)

So I may have watched the S10 ep1 preview over and over again. For Science.

Fic Rec

souslelys — Fri, 26 Sep 2014 22:49:10 GMT

My new life goal? To write even HALF as good as homo_pink - her piece Dead Tidy is absolutely amazing. It's a gorgeous blend of dark and beautiful imagery and horror. It's honestly like word porn all by itself.

Details & summary stolen from her post:

Dead Tidy - j2 | R | 2.6k
Jensen spends all his time at the boneyard perfecting his garden. That's where he meets the boy.

GUH. It's so, so perfect. I'm in love with it.