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eddiemunsonistheloml · 27 days ago

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oh so close

after a tough case, you and dean both need some stress relief. luckily, you have each other.

cw, smut! oral (f!receiving), praise kink, needy!dean, kind of softdom!dean, dirty talk, unprotected p in v (wrap it before u tap it folks), slight overstimulation, (sorry if i missed anything else!)

note, this had taken me literally so long to write because i cringe at every other line, but oh well. anyways, here is my first smut - any feedback would be appreciated!

but now, but now somehow

my words roll off my tongue right onto your lips.

lips. teeth. dean.

those are the only words going through your head as dean's hands squeeze your hips, tugging you closer to him with one swift movement, his mouth never leaving yours.

the hunt had been rough, and you knew that you both needed some stress relief, feeling the need buzz beneath your skin.

you knew dean felt the same way, you could hear it in his gruff tone when he told sam goodnight, not uttering another word as he pulled you into your shared motel room. you could see it as his darkened eyes bored into yours when he shut the door, swiftly locking it behind him. you could feel it when he grabbed you, crashing his lips to yours harshly. but like hell were you complaining.

you moan as dean nips at your bottom lip, groaning against your mouth, his hands winding into your hair tightly. you feel him kick off his boots, and take the hint to do the same, keeping your mouth locked with his. your own hands creep up over his strong shoulders, nails digging into the smooth skin at the base of his neck for a moment before slipping up to tangle in his hair. you gasp into his mouth as dean's hands suddenly come up to your shirt, tangling in the hem of it before ripping it harshly over your head, the display of strength making your knees weak.

with one last suck of your tongue, he pulls away from your mouth, trailing his lips across your cheek, along your jaw and down to your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin of your pulse point. the sharp sting makes you gasp, your head dizzy from the blurry line of pain and pleasure.

"sorry, baby, y'just feel so good," dean mumbles into your neck, soothing his bite with a swipe of his tongue that coaxes a needy moan from your throat. "fuck, need you, sweetheart, need you s'bad."

"dean," you whimper breathlessly, head spinning as his lips continue their onslaught of your neck. "please-"

"yeah, yeah, i gotch'a.." he mutters, sucking below the corner of your jaw before bending down, tapping the back of your thigh. taking the hint, you wrap your arms around his neck before hoisting yourself up. dean catches you easily, his arms going under your thighs and big hands splayed over your ass.

as soon as your legs are secured tightly around his waist, dean starts walking you over to the bed, lips still working incessantly at your skin. as the feeling of pure need boiling in your blood becomes too much, your hands slip down to grab dean's face, pulling him back up to your mouth.

dean groans into the messy kiss, his hands squeezing your ass before unceremoniously dropping you on the bed. you land with a gasp, pushing yourself up on your elbows as he stands above you, tearing off his flannel and t shirt, tossing it behind him. tilting your head up to look at him again, your heart stutters at the sight above you.

dean is towering over you, his shoulders tensed, hands in tight fists and jaw clenched, but oh, his eyes. his piercing emerald eyes were looking down at you like he wanted to devour you.

you both stay still for a moment, just taking each other in, the only sound in the room being your labored breaths as you just stared at one another. dean breaks the moment suddenly, practically pouncing on you with a sound that almost sounds like a growl.

perfectly chapped lips crash onto yours as calloused hands latch onto your waist, caressing your skin in gentle movements that counter the rough attack on your mouth. you moan into his mouth, body arching up into him on instinct, your hands wrapping around him and grasping at the hard muscles of his shoulders.

weak pleas of his name are swallowed by his wanting mouth, your words not reaching him as he loses himself in you like he so desperately needs to. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, almost as if to distract you as his hand snakes up from your waist under the arch of your back, his fingers expertly unclasping your bra.

finally accepting he needs air and wanting to see your bare skin for himself, dean pulls away from your lips, holding himself up on his hands over you. you lay there panting under him, watching his eyes follow the movement of his hands as they pull your bra straps from your shoulders, ripping it from your body.

when his hands move down to your worn down jeans, you push yourself up onto your hands, tilting your head to attach your lips to his neck. you suck harshly at the smooth skin at his collarbone, pulling a groan from him that only fuels the flood between your legs.

"dean..." you whisper against his skin, relishing in the way his hands stutter at your waistband. your lips continue painting his neck, trying to convey what you want with your teeth and tongue.

"shh, i know, shit, i know, baby," he mutters, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment before they open again as his shaking hands undo your jeans and start to tug them down your legs. you help him by lifting your hips, one hand wrapped around his shoulder and the other one planted on the mattress to hold you up as your lips stay attached to his neck.

as soon as you kick your jeans away, dean's hands are gripping your waist, effortlessly lifting you and moving you to rest your head on the pillows. you lay back, lips parted and swollen as you pant heavily, eyes wide and needy as you watch him.

"fuck, look at you, sweetheart," dean whispers, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes rake over your nearly naked body, his gaze making you shiver. he leans over you again, breath fanning your face before he's gone again, dipping his head down to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. "my pretty girl, all laid out and needy f'me--god, how did i get so lucky, baby?"

you can only moan in response, your head dropping back onto the pillows to give him better access to your skin as your hands dive into his hair, tangling in the short, spiky strands. dean's lips burn a trail down your neck and along your collarbone and all you can think about is how much you need him. how much you crave his touch, his gaze, his attention, his everything. if he wanted you to, you would sit still for hours, never moving a muscle as he painted himself into your skin, proving to you, himself, and everybody else that you were his.

you're snapped out of your aching thoughts when dean nips at your hip bone, causing you to yelp slightly. you lift your head from the scratchy pillows, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him.

"you with me, pretty girl?" dean asks, your hips gripped in his hands where he draws soothing circles into your skin with his rough fingers. "thought y'left me there for a second."

you shake your head, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips, fingers curling into the sheets below you when dean's hungry gaze tracks the movement. "m'here, was jus' thinking for a moment," you reply, your words already sounding slurred.

"m'kay good. 'cause i wanna see those pretty eyes locked on me when i make you feel good, yeah?" he croons, hands squeezing your hips ever so slightly. you nod, a soft groan escaping your lips as you let yourself fall back onto the bed, your head resting on the coarse pillow.

dean grins at your response, lowering his gaze between your legs as his hands spread your plush thighs, the sight making him let out a groan of his own. "fuck, sweetheart, you're soaked," he breathes, almost in awe as his hands tear off your panties, making you gasp at the sudden action.

"dean- oh-" you start to protest but are cut off as dean dives between your legs, flattening his tongue and licking a long stripe up your core, making your hips cant up off the bed. "oh shit-"

"don' move," dean mumbles from between your legs, the vibrations of his voice pulling a whimper from you. as if to enunciate his point, his large forearm moves from your thigh to wrap over your hip and your stomach, pinning your hips to the bed as his mouth wrecks you.

he swirls his tongue around your sensitive bud before sucking it between his lips, making your hands fly to his hair, gripping the short strands as if it's your lifeline. he sucks again, ripping a cry from your chest, and with a nudge of his broad shoulders, he lifts your thighs around his head, one hand gripping the plush fat of one, the other still holding your hips to the bed.

"oh god, dean-" you moan breathlessly, back arching off the bed when his tongue slips down to prod at your sopping entrance, the sensation shooting sparks of pleasure up your spine. "so good, feels s'good-"

his response is a deep groan, tongue moving back up to lap at your clit like it's water in the desert. your hands tighten in his hair, desperately trying to pull him closer, needy whimpers and whines falling from your kiss-bitten lips. you try to gasp for air, but cut yourself off with a broken moan as he plunges two fingers into your heart without warning, pumping them in tandem with his tongue.

"oh fuck, dean, please-" you babble, eyes rolling back as his fingers brush that gummy spot deep inside you.

dean kept his pace up, his tongue never slowing as he pumped and scissored his fingers inside you, almost as if he was trying to unravel you from the inside. you could feel the familiar tension building in your stomach, your back arching in a weak attempt to get away from him as the pleasure became nearly blinding.

"I can't, dean, I can't, shit, feels t'good-" you whimper, gritting your teeth and tossing your head back as you feel yourself get closer and closer to the edge.

"yes you can, baby," dean urges, lifting his mouth from your aching core just enough to speak, his eyes lifting to watch you as his fingers never break rhythm. "c'mon, cum for me sweetheart."

his rough words are all it takes for the band in your stomach to snap, dean's name leaving your lips in a cry as he sends you barreling over the edge so hard you swear you see stars behind your eyes. dean's fingers slow but don't stop, gently working you through your high as he presses kisses to your quivering thighs on his shoulders, whispering soft praises against your skin.

"that's my girl..shit, you're fuckin' drenching me, baby," he mutters, eyes glued to you as you come down from your release. "so good, such a good girl, hm?"

you whimper in response, your brain still too fuzzy with pleasure to respond properly. when you start to come down, his fingers still working at you are suddenly too much, oversensitivity making my legs twitch around his head. when you finally open your eyes, you lower your hooded gaze to dean between your legs, moving one of your hands from his hair to weakly grasp at his wrist, stopping his movement and getting his attention.

"need you, please dean, need you t'fuck me," you plead, your hand still in his hair tugging sharply to try and pull him up to you.

he grunts at your tug, obeying you and pulling his fingers from your quivering heat and bringing them to his mouth to lick clean as he crawls back over you. "mm, fuck pretty girl, y'taste like heaven," he groans, dipping down to capture your lips with his, shoving his tongue into your waiting mouth to make you taste yourself.

you moan into his mouth, the filthiness of the kiss making your toes curl as your teeth clash with his, his tongue swiping along the roof of your mouth as if to memorize the feel of it. you arch up into him, digging your nails into his scalp, your hips rolling up into his, whining into his mouth at the press of his arousal into your soaked core.

your shaky hands slip from his hair, lightly dragging your nails along his shoulders and down his toned chest, one lingering over the anti-possession tattoo inked into his skin while the other one falls down to the waistband of his jeans, fumbling with his belt.

dean groans against your mouth, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

"off," you rasp out, fingers fumbling with his belt buckle. dean makes a noise of agreement as he pulls away just enough so that you can both pull air into your lungs, ending up with you panting into each other's mouths as dean's hand drifts down to help you with his belt.

with a joint effort, you manage to undo his belt, both of your hands coming down to tug at his waistband with a frustrated whine. dean grunts in frustration as well, sitting back on his knees as he tries to maneuver out of his jeans and boxers.

as soon as the offending garments are far enough down his hips, you push up onto your knees, grabbing his shoulders and tugging his mouth back to yours. he makes a surprised sound and you use the opportunity to hook your foot around the back of his knee, gripping his shoulders tightly, and in one swift movement, you flip him over so he falls flat on his back, your legs straddling his hips.

a gasp leaves his slack, kiss-swollen lips as he falls on the bed, his lust blown eyes staring up at you so dark you can barely see the evergreen you love so much. as soon as his brain catches up, he kicks his jeans and boxers off his feet, letting them fall to the floor. you eagerly reach down between you, grasping his aching cock in your hand, pumping him a few times as you watch his face contort in pleasure below you.

"shit- baby, please," dean gasps, the air punched from his lungs when you swipe your thumb over his leaking tip. you don't respond, bringing your free hand to continue stroking him slowly as you lift your thumb to your lips, sucking his precum from your digit. he groans again, the sound strained as his hands fly to your hips, his blunt nails digging into your skin with the effort to not thrust up into your tempting heat. "c'mon, need you 'round me, sweetheart, please.."

though it's not the first time you've heard these please fall from his lips, hearing dean winchester beg for you, knowing he's a man who doesn't beg for anyone, breaks your barely kept self restraint.

you stop pumping him, leaning forward and bracing one hand on his chest as the other guides him to your entrance. you both let out a low moan as you sink down onto his length, the familiar stretch making your breath catch in your chest.

slowly, you take him in, desperate to feel every inch of him as your gummy walls suck him in greedily. dean lets out a soft groan at the intense feel of you around him, the sound making you clench around him, which causes his grip on your hips to tighten. after a few painstaking moments, you finally lower onto him fully, the plush of your ass meeting his hips, punching a broken moan from your chest.

dean watches you from below, his plush bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he fights the urge to thrust up into you, to move your hips, anything to feel more of you around him, to feel you come apart on him. "c'mon, sweetheart," he groans, the high pitch tone of his voice sounding dangerously close to a whine. "need you t'move, baby."

you nod at him, a low whine escaping your throat as you start to rock your hips back and forth on him, earning a moan of approval from him below you. you work his cock inside you until the burn of the stretch turns into simmering pleasure, climbing up from your core to the tips of your fingers that dig into his chest.

dean seems to decide that your pace is too slow for him, and with no warning, he grips your hips tighter, lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down at the same time his hips thrust up into you. the sudden action makes you cry out as his harsh thrust causes the tip of his cock to hit your cervix just right, your eyes rolling back into your head.

"shit- dean," you gasp, the air punched from your lungs as he slams you down onto him again, his cock deliciously kissing your cervix with every thrust. you move your hips as well, trying desperately to keep up with his rhythm but you can't, your thighs trembling around him as you cry out above him.

"that's it, fuck, so good, baby, such a good fuckin' girl, taking me so goddamn good," dean praises, his voice strained and breathy as he fucks up into you without abandon. you can only moan in response, but next thing you know, dean sits up abruptly, wrapping his arms around you, and the world is spinning.

he flips you with ease, his arms wrapped around your shoulders and waist lowering you back onto the bed, his cock never slipping from you. as soon as your safely placed on the mattress again, dean starts pistoning into you again, plunging into you like a man possessed. his head drops to your neck, chest pressed against yours as his teeth and tongue paint every patch of skin they can reach.

your reduced to a babbling, gasping mess as he pounds into you, the heat of his skin pressed against yours and his hot breath against your neck making you dizzy. your hands fly to his shoulders, nails dragging down his back as his cock hits that gummy spot inside of you.

the shock of pleasure from him hitting that spot forces a high pitched sound that resembled his name from your lips, making him nip at your neck, growling into your skin.

"oh, right there, huh? that the spot, baby?" dean huffs into your ear, angling his hips to hit that spot over and over again, so good you feel like your floating off the bed.

"uh huh, right there, right there- shit, so good," you moan, throwing your head back, eyes rolling into your skull and lips parted as your jaw goes slack from pleasure. you claw at his back, the sharp pain only spurring him on as he bites at your collarbone, fingers digging into the sheets next to your head.

"yeah, that's it baby..you're close, I can feel it- you're, shit, squeezin' me so fuckin' tight," he groans, tongue soothing over a bite mark left from his teeth.

you nod to the best of your ability, a loud, broken moan being pulled from your lips as one of his hands reaches down between you to rub his thumb in tight, almost harsh circles on your aching clit. it's almost too much, the blinding pleasure making your skin crawl, the band in your stomach getting dangerously close to snapping.

"oh fuck, dean, m'close, 'm so close-" you whimper, weakly lifting your hips the best you can to half-heartedly meet his thrusts.

"i know, baby, i know," he breathes into your ear, his thumb speeding up on your bundle of nerves, making you see stars behind your eyes. he lifts his head from your neck, smashing his lips to yours again, making you moan into his demanding mouth. "cum for me, pretty girl, c'mon, soak my fuckin' cock."

his words, muttered against your slack lips, send you flying over the edge with a scream of his name. your back arches under him, your nails digging so hard into his back you're sure you've drawn blood, but the thought is lost on you as your vision practically goes white with pleasure. you feel yourself gushing around his length, the blinding pleasure and slight overstimulation making a tear slip down your cheek.

"fuuck, good girl, baby, good fuckin' girl," dean grunts against your mouth as he feels you come apart around him, the intensity of you squeezing around him causing him to follow you over the edge with a groan of your name. you feel him twitch before he spills inside of you, the hot sensation of his cum filling your oversensitive cunt causing aftershocks to flow through you, making you moan weakly.

when he's finally spent, his hips slow to a stop, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as you both just lay there, catching your breath and coming down from the intense moment. your head is dizzy, and you can feel a few stray tears slipping down your cheeks as you lay there, spent.

after a few moments, dean lifts his head from your shoulder, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek gently, his touch a stark contrast to what just happened. he mutters your name softly, but you're still too blissed out to do anything but hum, your eyes still closed as you pant softly.

he says your name again, his thumb stroking your cheek softly, trying to get you to open your eyes, "c'mon, sweetheart, look at me. let me see those pretty eyes."

reluctantly, you do as he says, your eyes fluttering open with great effort to look up at him through your lashes. a smile breaks out onto his face, his thumb still stroking your cheek affectionately.

"there's my girl," dean whispers, leaning down to softly press his lips to yours just for a moment, to ground you, bring you back to him. his brows furrow in concern when he pulls back, his thumb wiping away the stray tears that had leaked from your eyes. "you okay? i didn't hurt you, did i?"

your pounding heart swells with affection at his concern, and you manage the strength to smile up at him, shaking your head and leaning into his touch.

"no, it was perfect," you whisper, your voice slightly hoarse from your earlier vocalization. "i needed that."

he smiles at your answer, shifting his hand to brush some of your sweaty hair from your forehead, pressing a kiss there to your heated skin. "yeah, i needed that too," he agrees, nuzzling his nose against yours with a soft sigh.

you relish in his affection for a few moments, both of you just laying there, sharing soft kisses and taking the other in. eventually though, the stickiness between your thighs becomes uncomfortable, and you start to squirm under him.

"not that i don't love this," you whisper softly, your eyes fluttering open to meet piercing green staring back at you. you gently lift your hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb over his cheek before you move your hand to his hair, fingers brushing through the short strands at the nape of his neck. "but we should get cleaned up."

dean hums in agreement, eyes slipping shut for a moment at your ministrations, opening again as he presses open last kiss to your lips before slowly lifting himself up and gently pulling out of you, making you wince.

"i know, m'sorry, sweetheart," he mumbles, gripping your thigh with his hand, tracing comforting circles into your heated skin. once you're seperated, he pushes up onto his knees before leaning down again, wrapping his arms under your back and lifting you into his arms.

you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his neck as carries you, resting against him as he walks to the motel bathroom. you feel an overwhelming sense of both relief and affection as his thumbs gently stroke the skin of your back while he carries you, and you turn your head, pressing a soft kiss over his pulse point, letting your lips linger against his skin.

"love you," you whisper into his skin, hoping that he doesn't just hear your love, but feels it along his spine, under his skin, and in his bones, wishing you could carve it into him until he knew he deserved it.

"i know," is his response, and you smile against him knowing that even when he doesn't say it back, he loves you. you feel it in the way he craves you, the way he protects you and keeps you safe, and you feel it in the reverent way he touches you, as if you are the only altar he will get on his knees for.

that is how you know dean winchester loves you, and you will spend the rest of your life proving to him that he deserves that kind of love too, even if it kills you.

a/n: ok, so here it is! this took me so friggin long to write but its finally done (thank god). just by the way, this was all written at like 3 in the morning on various days, so I am very sorry if this sucks. but anyways, thank you for reading and if you have any feedback, pls let me know!

p.s - I know i'm not like a big writer or anything but if anyone wants me to start a taglist lmk!

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 1 month ago

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thank god his parents didn't sleep that night

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 1 month ago

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The request I got (it’s the exact same thing) ^^^

I was just casually scrolling through Jess x reader fics when I came across this..

This is the exact same request that I got. No hate to whoever wrote this I was just confused lol.

When I first got the ask I thought I recognized but I didn’t know where and I guess know I know.

Anyways is it bad if I still write this request since someone else already did..? I honestly don’t know but I already started it so idrk what to do.

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 1 month ago

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I was just casually scrolling through Jess x reader fics when I came across this..

This is the exact same request that I got. No hate to whoever wrote this I was just confused lol.

When I first got the ask I thought I recognized but I didn’t know where and I guess know I know.

Anyways is it bad if I still write this request since someone else already did..? I honestly don’t know but I already started it so idrk what to do.

#jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 1 month ago

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december *⁀➷ dean winchester

✧.* dean x cupid!reader — part 3!!

— it's christmas tiiiime, and now dean is getting bossed around by his cupid to prepare the bunker for the holiday. he's totally loving it, just don't tell anyone. cw! fluff! fluff! holiday fluff and wait—you do what under a mistletoe? heated kissing, strong language, 18+ wc! 6.3k masterlist for previous parts

You’re sitting crisscrossed on the living room floor, barely a foot away from the TV, eyes glued to the screen.

Dean had left early in the morning for supplies, leaving you to follow Sam around the bunker like a shadow. You peppered him with endless questions about hunting, lore books, and the monsters they hunted until his patience started to fray. A tough feat with the ever sympathetic Sam, but somehow you keep managing to push that boundary with both the Winchesters. When the topic turned to his love life—your innocent curiosity fully unhinged—Sam had finally cracked. To remedy the situation, he popped in a DVD, and it only took a few seconds for you to become completely absorbed into the grinch who stole christmas.

The sound of the bunker door opening and slamming shut breaks the movie’s spell for a moment. Dean’s heavy boots clamber down the stairs as he grumbles, “Unbelievable. Two other mouths this food is feedin’ and not a single hand to help unload the car.”

You don’t budge, the movie is far more compelling than whatever Dean’s annoyed about. What did not go unnoticed by the disgruntled man was your attention being on the screen, instead of on him. None of your usual circling around him asking what he got at the store like you usually do. The thought buzzed around in his brain as he put the groceries away. A pesky little feeling of wanting your attention setting him on edge. He couldn’t even help himself, peeking out of the kitchen a few times to look back at your hypnotized form.

The vibrant hues of the screen reflected in your pupils as you watched each grumpy humph and retort from the Grinch. You found the oddly green and fluffy thing endearing, his antics making you think of another huffing, grumbling, dramatic man.

Suddenly, a soft brown teddy bear appears in your line of sight. The stuffed animal disrupts your viewing, staring back at you with shiny black eyes and a stitched-in smile. You blink, eyes trailing up the arm holding it. Dean towers over you, wearing his usual grumpy scowl—an expression that contrasts so sharply with the stuffed bear in his hand that you almost laugh.

“Here,” he gruffs, shaking the bear slightly. “You wouldn’t shut up about wanting one on our last hunt, and the store had some, so…”

Your brows knit in confusion, raking your brain until you remember the bears at the gala. Cute and just begging for you to take home. Too much action of the night led to you leaving without a new plush friend, and you did bring it up to Dean at least once. Maybe twice, four or five times at most.

Realizing Dean was actually listening to your spiels—despite his expressions making you think otherwise—makes your face light up with a radiant smile. You take the bear gingerly, cradling it like something precious. It’s plump, soft, and better than the ones at the gala. Settling it into your lap, you resume your movie watching, tucking the bear snugly as if it’s watching the film with you.

Dean’s frown softens—just a little—as he watches.

You lift a finger to point at the screen, peering up at him with furrowed brows. “Dean, this movie says Christmas is a holiday in December. It’s December now, but you and Sam haven’t said anything about this Christmas stuff.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the room like he’s hunting for an escape route. “It’s… made up,” he shrugs. “Not a real holiday.”

“Oh,” you murmur, frown tugging at your lips as you look back at the TV. Holidays are becoming one of your favorite things these days. You were aloofly aware that humans had traditions, but there were so many over the course of human history that you never bothered to keep track. Now that the Winchesters have clued you in on some of these celebrations, you find it hard to believe the boys can be so lax about participating. And although you try your damn hardest not to be overly excited over learning new things, the joy that holidays brought you was a Pandora's box you’ve decided to leave cracked open.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice cuts through the air as he walks into the room, a deep sigh trailing behind him. “Why are you lying to her about Christmas?”

“Lying?” You whip your head between the brothers, wide-eyed.

Sam shoots Dean a look—one that says fix it—while Dean smiles coolly back, clearly unbothered.

“I’m not—” Dean starts, but Sam raises a brow. Dean groans, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Okay, fine. I lied. But we’re not—”

“We have to prepare!” you shout, leaping to your feet. Screw containing excitement. The movie showed you the wonderful intensity of this Christmas thing, and you’d be damned if you let Dean grumble his way out of this one.

The teddy bear tumbles to the floor, forgotten for the moment. “We need a tree, and presents, and cookies, and sweaters!” You list, recounting from the film. Your gaze falls back to the bear, and you scoop it up quickly, holding it close. Your eyes sparkle as you coo, “Grumpy Bear needs a sweater, too.”

Dean freezes. “Grumpy Bear?”

Sam’s brow furrows. “Wait—Grumpy Bear?”

“Uh-huh,” You nod eagerly, trying not to laugh at your own joke and ruin it. Jokes were hard and you’re still getting the hang of them. “I named him after Dean.”

Dean groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as Sam fails to stifle his chuckle. “You’re killin’ me, lovebird,” Dean mutters under his breath.

“Alright, then,” Sam interjects, clapping his hands together before pointing at you and Dean, “you two go out and get us a tree and what-not. I’ll stay here and get the bunker ready.” He’s sporting a smug grin, clearly satisfied with his swift evasion of having to do any of the brunt work.

“What? Dude—no.” Dean shoots back, his head tilting as he sighs.

“That’s a perfect plan, Sam!” you chirp back, placing Grumpy Bear on the couch. You don’t give Dean the chance to protest further, darting to grab your shoes and jacket while the brothers bicker in the living room.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The Impala hums steadily along the snowy road, but your focus is on the radio’s dial. Before you left the bunker, Sam had pulled you aside, helpfully informing you of the radio stations that play nonstop festive music this time of year. You memorized his quick instructions: Just turn the right dial, he’d said, until the static gives way to something jolly and christmas-y.

So far, though, all you’ve found is static—and the longer it drags on, the more Dean radiates a particular brand of agitation that’s starting to fill the car.

“Love,” he finally says, his voice tight with thinly veiled annoyance, “what are you doing?”

“Hang on, I just have to find—” You twist the dial a little more, and finally, success. The opening notes of have a holly jolly christmas crackle through the speakers, soft and cheerful. Satisfaction pools through you at the sound. A stark contrast to the usual sounds coming from the impala’s speakers: loud, crashing instruments with throaty vocals and a single song lasts for what feels like forever. Classic rock, he once told you, nothin’s better than the classics.

Dean groans like you’ve just personally offended him and immediately reaches over to change the station, but you’re faster. You swat his hand away with a firm pout.

“No way, Grinch.” You shake your head, crossing your arms triumphantly. “It’s Christmas time, and we’re getting into the spirit.”

Dean’s eyes flick between you and the road, and though his expression starts off sour, you can see the amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. Sam had warned you this would happen. He’d even told you exactly what to say when Dean inevitably tried to kill the Christmas cheer: Just say something about getting into the Christmas spirit, and be firm, Cupid. You know how he gets.

“Grinch, huh?” Dean mutters, throwing you a sidelong glance. “Alright, fine. I’ll let it slide this one time. But for the record,” his finger goes up in protest, “I am not the Grinch.”

“Oh, no?” You grin, eyes playfully scowling at him. “Mean, grumpy guy up on the mountain gets all gushy when someone’s nice to him for once? Sounds like someone I might know.”

Dean huffs out a laugh, finally giving in to the playful banter. “Grumpy, mean—fine. But I do not do gushy.”

Hearing his laugh makes your heart flutter, the sound feeling like a trophy when he’s usually at his wit ends with you. Dean was in general a pessimistic guy, that much you’ve noticed. And he was mean when he first met you, and wrongly assumed you’d be an annoying mouthpiece from heaven. But in the months you’ve spent following him around, you’ve started to figure out how to make that scowl melt into a big smile.

It was hit or miss most of the time, but you always were a bit of a boundary pusher.

“You do, too.” you press mockingly.

“Uh-huh,” he breathes, brows quirking, “Is that so? Well if I’m the grinch that makes you, what—my Cindy Lou Who?” His face squints with his words.

“Exactly,” you chirp, practically glowing with pride. Without thinking, you reach over, placing a small hand on his chest. “And I’m gonna make sure that heart grows three sizes, Winchester.”

Dean’s eyes flicker between you and your hand. His mouth twitching into a lopsided smile as he shakes his head. “I bet you will, lovebird,” he murmurs, voice softer now as you retract into your seat and he focuses on the road again. “I bet you will.”

The playful warmth lingers as the Impala rolls on, the car filling with soft holiday tunes and the quiet hum of the engine. You nod along to the music, sneaking glances at Dean as he drums his fingers against the wheel in time with the song.

The scenery outside begins to shift, and Dean slows the car, turning onto a gravel driveway. The worn out sign on the left side gate at the entrance reads, The Ginger Family Farm – Christmas Trees & Reindeer!

Your gaze sharpens as you sit up straighter, a large red barn sits on the hill, surrounded by neat lines of snowy pine trees. It’s an old and faded structure, but the chimney bellows smoke and the doors are propped open. From this distance all you can see are the twinkling lights inside and movement from the people within. But it’s the pasture near the entrance that really catches your attention. A herd of reindeer grazes lazily by a fence, their soft brown fur gleaming in the afternoon sun. Another faded sign beside them reads: Santa’s Helpers Live Here!

Dean hasn’t even fully parked when you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over him, climbing into his lap to get a better look out of his window.

“Dean,” you whisper, eyes alight with wonder as your nose grazes against the glass, “are those… reindeer?”

He glances down at you, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Yep,” he replies, reaching over your frame to throw the car into park.

“They’re real?” you ask, turning to him with wide eyes, equal parts skeptical and fascinated. “I mean, I knew they were real, but I didn’t think I’d ever actually see them.”

Dean chuckles as he pops his door open, an arm going around your waist to stop you from tumbling out of the open door. “Real enough. But don’t get your hopes up—they don’t fly.”

You slide out after him, giving him a mildly exasperated look. “I know they don’t fly, Dean. Our universe has exactly three beings with wings: birds, bugs and angels. That much I am sure of.”

Dean snorts, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he watches you drift toward the fence, your curiosity written all over your face. The way your head starts to tilt, lips popping open as your eyes start to squint. Dean has witnessed this look more than a handful of times now, and it still has that same damn effect of making him want to watch you explore new things all day.

But it also makes his heart twist and strain as the pounding reverberates throughout his entire body. The kind of thing he does not want to think deeper about. You’re just cute, that’s all, and what kind of monster would say no to something so, damn, cute?

“You wanna go say hi?” Dean calls after you, his voice light and teasing.

You glance back at him, a shy smile finding your lips. “I can do that?”

“Sure, bet there’s some kid over there feeding them carrots. You can be next in line.” He teases.

The teasing goes over your head, as all you really heard was Dean agreeing to something. Without hesitation, you grab his hand, tugging him toward the pasture. “Fine by me, but you’re feeding them. I don’t do well with teeth.” you shutter.

Dean raises his brows, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. He tucks that comment away for later, adding it to the growing list of your quirks that simultaneously baffle and charm him. But you’re tugging him across the snowy field, all bright-eyed and—oh god—giggly, you’re giggling. He can’t bring himself to stop you.

And if his hand stays wrapped in yours a little longer than necessary—warm and steady against the cold air—well, that’s between him and his not-so-Grinch-sized heart.

As you approach the pasture, the reindeer lift their heads, their large, black eyes blinking lazily in your direction. One of them—a particularly curious-looking one with a slightly crooked antler—takes a few cautious steps closer to the fence.

You freeze mid-step, tucking yourself closer to Dean. “It’s coming over here,” you hiss, half-whisper, half-excited gasp. You weren’t used to animals of this size, a nervousness you’re still getting used to feeling creeps up your spine. With your hand still intertwined in his, you use your free hand to clutch his arm and merely peek at the animal from the safety of Dean’s side.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the idea,” Dean replies, deadpan, though the grin tugging at his lips betrays his amusement.

The reindeer stops a few feet away, eyeing you both with what you can only describe as mild suspicion. You tighten your grip on Dean’s hand and arm, big eyes peering up at him expectantly as you nudge him forward slightly. “Okay, go on, you first.”

Dean snorts, stepping forward to the fence. “It’s a reindeer, not a beast. Relax.” He leaves your side, the winter air hitting him a little harder without your warmth pressed against his side. Leaning against the wooden fence, he holds out a tentative hand like he’s done this a thousand times before.

To your surprise, the reindeer moves closer, sniffing at his fingers. You watch, wide-eyed, as it nudges Dean’s palm with its fuzzy pink nose.

“See? Not so bad,” Dean coos, glancing back at you with an infuriatingly smug expression.

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Sure, you’re the reindeer whisperer. But if I try that, it’s probably gonna bite me.”

“Doesn’t even have teeth to bite with,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

“You’re lying again, aren’t you?” you mutter, eyes sizing into slits from suspicion. Dean shrugs, but the smirk on his face instills your weariness.

Hesitantly, you shuffle closer. Keeping close to Dean, so that most of his body is between you and the animal, you tentatively reach out. Dean’s large hands contrast yours when they’re side by side like this, and he impatiently moves yours to touch the curious snout.

A quiet, nervous gasp escapes you, but the reindeer only leans into your touch. It’s nose is soft and velvety. The feel of it momentarily puts out your nervous flames. Dean gently maneuvers you in front of him to give you ample space for petting, leaning down to your ear he speaks softly, “There you go, little angel. Just be gentle, alright? Don’t wanna spook ‘em.”

The words spook ‘em makes you jump back, but there’s little space to move with Dean being so close. Making you become a stumbling mess between him and the fence. Your harsh movements scares the reindeer, as the nimble animal darts back to it’s herd. Leaving you huffing with your heart pounding.

With your hands now safely back at your sides, you feel Dean’s chest rumble with laughter as you whip around to shoot him a scowl. “Not funny, Dean.” you whine, watching as he struggled to pull himself out of the laughing fit.

A familiar sound, music like the kind you found in the car, turns your attention to the old barn. You take notice of the small cluster of families near the entrance, their arms full of freshly cut Christmas trees. The warm glow of string lights spills out from the open barn doors, illuminating the snow-dusted path leading up to it.

With one more flash of sharpened eyes at Dean, you march on towards the cosy atmosphere on the hill. Dean quickly falls in line, mumbling half-hearted apologies through the fading bubbles of laughter.

Stepping into the barn, the scent of fresh pine and hay wrap around you like a warm blanket. Inside, a few people mingle and look around the shop. A large wooden counter sits in the center, where an elderly man with kind eyes and a bushy white beard greets you with a wide smile.

Dean leans into your ear again as walks past, quickly murmuring, “That’s definitely Santa.” He pulls away with a glimmering smirk and shoots you a wink as he approaches the counter.

“Looking for a tree?” The man in a buffalo plaid jacket asks, his voice warm and welcoming. Your thoughts briefly wonder if he is Santa. But if a spirit actually went around invading people’s houses on the same night every year, surely Sam and Dean would have done something about it by now. You settle on a quiet suspicion that you would not be asking Dean about.

Dean glances at you, green eyes softening. “Yeah,” he says, his tone lighter than usual. “Somethin’ nice. She’s got high standards, this one.” He gestures to you with a big, charming smile. You nod back, not entirely sure what high standards for a tree would be, but you’re certain the bunker would need the best damn tree available.

Dean starts talking about height, type, and price with mr-may-or-may-not-be-Santa—a conversation that makes your brain wonder elsewhere. The barn was warm and something behind the counter mixed a chocolatey scent into the pine air. Wooden shelves lined the walls, stocked with syrup bottles, boxes of pastries, and Christmas themed trinkets. You moved towards them to get a closer look and search for anything pie-like for Dean.

As you muse around the small space, a basket of small, handwoven angel-dolls catches your eye. Curious, you step closer and pick one up, tilting your head as you inspect its delicate details. Each doll is unique, with different hair and skin tones, but they all share the same serene, closed-eyed expression. They look kind. Peaceful. So different from the angels you once knew in Heaven.

The quiet shuffle of boots behind you signals Dean’s approach. His jacket brushes the back of yours as he leans over your shoulder, his gaze following yours to the doll.

“That’s what we put on the top of the tree,” he says casually.

“Why?” you ask, tucking the angel back into its basket.

“Uh, not sure, really. Maybe—”

A gentle clink, clink, clink interrupts him. You both turn toward the sound to see the jolly man behind the counter holding a silver bell high over his head. His grin stretches wide over his rosy face as he announces, “You two are the first of the season!”

Dean’s brows furrow. “The first what?” he mutters under his breath, while your own confusion mirrors his.

The man gestures upward with a wink, then turns back to his work. Dean follows his motion, his head tilting back, he sees it. “Oh god,” he whispers with a quiet groan.

“What?” Your eyes trail up, finding a small sprig of green with red berries hanging over your heads.

“Mistletoe,” he answers flatly.

Your head tilts with curiosity, still staring at the small fixture, “and that means?”

Dean hesitates, glancing at you before clearing his throat. “You’re supposed to kiss whoever you’re caught underneath it with. And if you don’t, you get bad luck.”

Your lips twitch as you stifle a giggle. The thought of humans, for centuries, kissing beneath a little spring for the sake of good luck. Humans and their little quirks, never ceasing to entertain you. “How romantic.” you muse, that mischievous look, the one Dean has learned to recognize, is glowing in your eyes again.

He shifts uncomfortably, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s a stupid superstition we don’t—”

You’re not even paying attention to the words coming from his mouth. Instead, you lean onto your tiptoes, grabbing his wide shoulders for support as your lips place a soft kiss against his. He’s warm against your skin, his hands instinctively finding their place at your hips, causing goosebumps to ripple along your skin. Hot and dizzying. The sensation is so exciting that a light bulb clicks on inside your mind. This must be why humans kiss under a damn sprig.

It’s over just as quick, a fleeting touch, but enough to leave Dean frozen in place. When you pull back, his wide-eyed expression makes you bite your lip to suppress a laugh. You briefly wonder if kissing him when he’s grumpy would leave the same effect. A thought you’ll probably test, as it cements itself into the fabrics of your mind.

“You’re looking at me funny.” You say with a laugh. The innocence in your voice makes Dean’s head spin. Batting your lashes up at him like a kiss is as simple as a high five.

He blinks, green eyes raking your face as he processes what just happened, “You just kissed me.”

“Mhm,” you hum nonchalantly, thinking nothing of it.

“But you’re an angel—cupid or whatever.”

You arch a brow, tilting your head as if the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just…” Dean falters, gesturing vaguely. “I figured you’d be… you know, above that sort of thing.”

The corners of your lips twitch as you suppress a smile, your voice soft but teasing. “Did you think that means I’m some sort of prude, Dean Winchester?”

“Well, yeah,” he admits, still too caught off guard to filter his words. “Kinda.”

You shrug, your eyes alight with quiet amusement. “I’ve never been afraid of a little sin.”

Dean stares at you, utterly baffled, his mouth opening like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. His mind spins in circles, caught somewhere between disbelief and the faintest flicker of something he refuses to name.

Finally, he shakes his head and mutters, “Lovebird, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You grin, the playful spark in your eye only growing. “Maybe. But at least you won’t have bad luck now.”

Dean groans, running a hand down his face as he turns toward the barn’s open doors. “C’mon, let’s just find a damn tree and get out of here before you decide to test any more sins on me.”

But as he walks ahead, his heart beats a little faster, and he doesn’t dare think too much about why he already misses the warmth of your lips.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Are you sure the Santa guy said you could do this?” You ask, your voice tinged with doubt as you glance between Dean and the awfully large axe slung over his shoulder.

Dean stands there, the very picture of confidence, one hand propped on his hip and the other gripping the axe like he’s posing for the cover of Lumberjack Monthly. His eyes rake over the tallest tree in the grove, a determined smirk playing on his lips. Somehow, he’d sweet-talked the man at the counter into letting him chop down the damn tree himself—a detail you’re still struggling to wrap your head around.

Your eyes timidly look over the rest of the trees. Some were already cut, bound in netting and propped against fences. Closer to the barn, a few families stand around men, dressed in matching plaid and denim, as they expertly axe down the pine—the way it’s supposed to go, a tradition you quickly picked up on.

Dean doing it himself, when you assume he’s never taken down a tree before, does not feel like the right way to go about the tradition.

“Cupid,” Dean sighs dramatically, still appraising the tree, “I chop vamp heads for a living. I think I can handle a little tree.”

You eye the towering pine skeptically. “I wouldn’t exactly call this ‘little.’”

Dean turns to you, his smirk widening as a glint of mischief flashes in his eyes. “That’s what—” He stops mid-sentence, recoiling at himself as he shakes his head. “Nope. Nope. Not doin’ it.”

You blink at him, confused by his abrupt backpedaling, but before you can ask, he’s already stepping up to the tree and hefting the axe like it’s a wonky baseball bat.

With a hefty swing, the blade lodges into the trunk with a solid thud. Dean pauses, straightening to inspect his handiwork, though his furrowed brow suggests he’s less than impressed.

Letting out a frustrated huff, he shrugs off his jacket and shoves it into your hands. “Hold this,” he mutters, already focused on pulling the axe free for another attempt.

You dutifully clutch the jacket, taking a tentative step back as Dean lines up his next swing. The follow-through chips a small piece from the trunk, sending it flying through the air. Your gaze tracks it as it lands quietly in the snow.

“Dean,” you whine softly, glancing around at the other families in the field who seem to be having a much smoother time letting professionals handle the chopping. “Maybe we should—”

A sharp crack interrupts you, the sound startling as it echoes through the crisp air. Your breath catches as you snap your attention back to Dean, who’s now whistling under his breath, clearly pleased with himself.

“Alright!” he cheers, his grin wide and triumphant as he puts more force behind his swings. The tree trembles with each impact, the gap between trunk and stump widening until, at last, the entire pine groans and falls with a muffled thud into the snow.

Dean chucks the axe to the ground, throwing his arms up in victory. His breath puffing visibly in the cold air. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, baby!”

For a moment, you’re frozen, staring at the tree in awe. It’s not just any tree, you realize—it’s your very first Christmas tree. The thought sinks in, filling you with a fizzy warmth that bubbles up into a grin so wide it makes your cheeks ache. Without thinking, you hop across the snow to where Dean is standing, your boots crunching beneath you.

“You did it!” you squeak, your voice breathless with excitement as you fling your arms around his neck.

The hug catches Dean off guard, but his hands instinctively settle at your waist, pulling you closer and lifting you just slightly off the ground. He’s sturdy, like an anchor, and for a moment, the world feels perfectly still despite the crisp air and the snow swirling gently around you.

You pull back a fraction, your arms still looped loosely around his neck, and Dean looks down at you, his own grin softening. His chest tightens unexpectedly at the sight of you—eyes wide and sparkling, cheeks flushed from the cold, or maybe from something else entirely. The joy radiating from you feels almost too much, too bright, too... vulnerable.

He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as the warmth of the moment wraps around him.

“Oh, lover,” he murmurs, the nickname tumbling out unbidden, his voice low and almost reverent. “you gotta stop lookin’ at me like that. For my own sake.”

Your grin falters for just a second, confusion flickering in your eyes. “Like what?” you ask softly, your voice almost unsure, as if the words themselves hold a weight you can’t quite grasp.

Dean chuckles, shaking his head like he’s trying to brush off the way his stomach twists at your innocent question. “Never mind,” he mutters, his hands lingering just a moment too long before gently setting you back on the snowy ground.

You don’t linger on his words, too focused on the tree, and how it doesn’t make you feel jittery and nervous like the way looking Dean in the eye is making you feel. “C’mon, Dean,” you say, your voice bright again, “let’s get this Christmas tree home!”

Dean watches you bounce toward the tree’s trunk, your laughter dancing in the air like the snowflakes falling around you. His chest feels tight again, but this time, he doesn’t fight it. The way your smile lingers in his mind feels dangerous, but he can’t seem to let it go.

Against his own better judgement, he lets himself soak it all in—the smile he puts on your face, the way your excitement feels like a kiss from the sun in the dead of winter.

He exhales slowly, his breath visible in the cold air, and picks up the axe with a quiet smile tugging at his lips. Watching you crouch to inspect the tree like it’s the most magical thing you’ve ever seen, he reels in the inexplicable warmth settling in his chest.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself, his voice soft. “Let’s get it home.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Back at the bunker…

The living room feels much more cozy with all of the festive decor priming the room. The scent of pine mingling with the usual smell of dust and old books. The tree is nearly perfect—twinkling lights casting a golden glow, red and green ornaments catching the light in sparkling bursts. But the top remains bare.

The three of you are finishing up the tree, clad in matching sweaters. Dean let you pick them out, each adorning little reindeer and ‘oh deer’ written across the image with sparkling jewels.

“You’re too far to the left, Sam!” you call out, hands on your hips as you stand beside Dean.

“It’s centered,” Sam retorts, utilizing his full height and wing span as he adjusts the angel at the top of the tree.

“No, she’s right,” Dean cuts in frankly, arms crossed. He squints up at the angel. “It’s a little crooked. Just tilt it—”

Sam groans. “You two are impossible.”

You nudge Dean with your elbow, grinning up at him. “Told you I have a good eye.”

Dean smirks, shaking his head. “You? A good eye?” He shakes his head, smirking. “Please.”

With an exaggerated huff, Sam adjusts the angel one more time, muttering something under his breath about “backseat decorators.” But when both you and Dean gasp in unison, he pauses to look down.

“Better?”

“Perfect!” you both chime at the same time, your voices overlapping in synchronicity.

You glance at Dean, giggling at the moment’s absurdity, only to find him already looking at you. His grin softens, the teasing edge replaced by something warmer, deeper.

“Told you teamwork makes the dream work,” he gloats, but his voice is quieter, almost teasing.

You look away quickly, that funny warmth spreading to your cheeks again. The way he keeps looking at you today, all that warmth in his pretty green eyes—it’s too much. There’s a warm gooey feeling stirring in your chest, the intensity of new emotions is always exhausting. But this? You’re not even sure how you’re still standing when your knees keep going weak.

Your hand brushes against the weight in your pocket, the mistletoe you had swiped earlier suddenly feeling heavier. The memory of the earlier kiss flashes in your mind, and your stomach flutters nervously. What if—no. You can’t just stand here thinking about it. God, no. You have a thought to chase down and explore.

“I, um… I’ll be right back!” you blurt out, spinning on your heel before either brother can question you.

Dean blinks, caught off guard. “What? Where are you—?”

But you’re already halfway down the hall, moving faster than you probably need to. Sam and Dean share confused looks, the younger brother shrugging before turning back to the tree to adjust some of the ornaments. Dean tries to let it go, but he’d actually enjoyed having you so close to him all day, he couldn’t just shake the annoyance he felt at your absence.

Meanwhile, your quickened pace comes to a harsh stop at your room, heart racing. Clumsily pulling the small spring from your pocket, you fasten it to the doorframe with a piece of tape. You step back to admire your handiwork, a sly grin spreading across your face despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Dean!” you call out, your voice light and sing-songy, “can you come here for a sec?”

His boots are heavy against the floor as he approaches, stopping just short of the doorway. His eyes narrow as they take in your giddy grin and the way you’re practically bouncing in place.

“What’s going on?” he asks, suspicious.

You point upward, your smile widening as his gaze follows your gesture. The mistletoe dangles above him, and his expression shifts—part amusement, part exasperation.

“Seriously?” he drawls. “You stole that, didn’t you?”

You press your lips together, suppressing a giggle. “Borrowed,” you correct innocently.

Dean shakes his head, his lips pressing together in a way that barely hides his smile. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” but it’s so quiet, as if he’s only speaking to himself.

You shrug, your playful tone impossible to hide. “I’m a cupid,” you say sweetly, as if that explains everything. “And you’re under the mistletoe.” You remind him.

He sighs, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes take their time looking you up and down. Like he’s trying to measure you up, your mischievous nature making his head spin once again.

And Dean really hates getting his mind frazzled, especially by a little thing who’s so goddamn sugary sweet.

“Uh huh, you got me there.”

You nod, reeling in the way he’s giving into you. “Rules are rules, Dean.”

There are about a million and one reasons why he shouldn’t entertain this. Getting caught under the mistletoe at the barn was one thing—a moment of bad timing, easily brushed off. But this? This cheeky little stunt of yours, this deliberate invitation—it’s another story entirely. You’re an angel, literally, for God’s sake. There’s gotta be rules around this growing connection that he’s been so stubbornly ignoring. That much he’s sure of. Nevermind the fact that you’re pure, a true beacon of sweet curiosity and everything he is not.

Dean knows damn well his rough hands would quickly break something so delicate if put in his grasp.

But you’re excited, staring at him starry-eyed. And it’s just a kiss. Hardly a real one if there’s a mistletoe commanding it, right?

Surely, this sin can be forgiven… twice.

For once in his life, Dean lets go of the ever-tight grip he has on his better judgment. He silences the screaming voice in his head, loosens the chains on the flickering desire he’s tried so hard to bury. His body moves before his brain can catch up, his hand lifting to your face.

His thumb presses into the soft skin of your chin, his fingers firm but gentle as they tilt your head up toward him.

Your breath catches. He pauses, leaning in close enough that the peppermint-laced warmth of his breath fans over your lips. The hesitation lasts only a heartbeat, just long enough for that voice in the back of his mind to beg him to stop.

But he doesn’t.

Dean closes the distance, his lips pressing against yours. It’s firm but not harsh, sure yet somehow keeping a tenderness he’s finding harder to deny around you. Your world tilts, heart hammering so loudly you’re certain he can feel it in your chest. For a moment, the edges of everything blur—time, space, all of it—until there’s only him.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The other finds your hip, anchoring you to him in a way that feels as much like a need as a want. Your hands move instinctively, planting firmly on either side of his neck, fingers curling into his hair for stability.

The kiss deepens, unhurried yet consuming, his lips leading and yours eagerly following. The lingering scent of pine clings faintly to him, grounding you even as the dizzying heat of his touch threatens to sweep you away.

When he finally pulls back, his chest rises and falls heavily, breaths mingling with yours in the narrow space he leaves between you. His lips linger close to yours as he murmurs, voice low and rough, “Happy now?”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice, still lost in the haze of what just happened. Your cheeks burn, but the giddy smile spreading across your face is impossible to contain. “Oh, I don’t know,” you tease breathlessly, tilting your head. “Maybe. I think your Grinch heart might’ve grown at least one size today.”

Dean snorts, the tension breaking as the corner of his mouth lifts into the grin you’ve been pulling out of him all day. “You’re impossible,” he says, though there’s no real bite to it. Not this time.

Even as he steps back, as he forces himself to put distance between you, his eyes stay locked on yours. Jade green and conflicted, they linger for a beat too long, like he’s trying to figure out what on god’s green earth he’s just gotten himself into.

this was so long im sorry, i got a lil carried away

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 1 month ago

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Chat I made a taglist so please fill it out because I don’t want to be a loser and only have like one person on my taglist..

Link

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 1 month ago

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Just saw this on Twitter and it reminded me of my teen!dad Jess fic I’m writing lol

#jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano #jess mariano smut

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 1 month ago

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Guys I'm currently writing the teen!dad Jess Mariano request I got but I have no Idea what to name their kid. I'm writing them to have a daughter because Jess if defiantly a girl dad.

If the person who sent the request sees this and would like to pick the name please send me an ask letting me know. If anyone else has any ideas please please please reply to this or send an ask letting me know your ideas because I'm so stuck.

#jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano x you #gilmore girls #gilmore girls x reader

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 1 month ago

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Coming Soon(ish):

I never ended up doing anything for October so I'm using those ideas now i got then for now instead so some of those will be on here. If any of these interest you please let me know in a comment or in my asks and I'll try to prioritize it.

To be written:

John B with brat reader (from @mirellef2001.)

Period comfort with JJ Maybank, Billy Hargrove and Jess Mariano (separate, from anons.)

Robin Buckley x Munson Reader (from anon)

Riding Jess Mariano (from anon)

Aftercare with JJ Maybank (from anon)

Dean and Sam's younger sister headcanons (from me)

Teen!dad Jess Mariano (from anon)

Currently working on: Number 7 - Teen!dad Jess Mariano (from anon)

#sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #jj maybank x reader #jess mariano x reader #robin buckley x reader #eddie munson x reader #john b routledge x reader #billy hargrove x reader

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 1 month ago

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☆Dean Winchester Masterlist☆

Oneshots:

Blurbs&Headcanons:

Nsfw alphabet

Moodboards:

Series:

#dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural x reader #supernatural

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 1 month ago

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Dean Winchester nsfw alphabet

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☆ Paring(s): Dean Winchester x reader

☆ Words: 1,452

☆ Warnings: Lots of mentions of sex (obviously) but no actual smut, 18+, established relationship, mentions of oral, sex toys, edging, cum, masturbation (dean), swearing, pls lmk if i need to add anything else

☆ Summary: nsfw alphabet. idk what else to say.

A - After Care (what they’re like after sex and how they take care of you)

Dean would be the BEST at aftercare. As soon as your done, he would just sit inside you for a few minutes while whispering praises to you, telling you how good you did before gently pulling out. He would always give you the option of having a shower now or later. If you chose to shower right after, he would carry you to the shower and clean your body for you. He also loved to wash your hair for you while giving you a head massage. If you chose to shower later, he would get a damp towel and wipe you both up before helping you get dressed in his shirt and then, he would hold you tightly as you cuddled under the covers together before you both doze off.

B - Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and yours)

His favourite of himself is probably his jawline or his muscles. Idk why it just makes sense to me. He would be so cocky about how strong he is, specially how easy it was for him to carry you around and man handle you.

Honestly as cheesy as it sounds, Dean loves your entire body so incredibly much that it’s hard for him to just pick one favourite body part. He thinks you’re the most beautiful person that he has ever seen in his entire life. But if he had to choose, it would probably be your tits and he wouldn’t even care how big or small they are. (He has stated multiple times that boob pillows are the best kind of pillows.)

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum)

If he doesn’t cum inside you he’ll probably cum on your tits/stomach or if you’re facing down, it’ll be on your back/ass. He has always loved to watch his cum leak out of you after he finishes inside you..

D - Dirty Secret (self explanatory)

It’s no lie that dean loves to take pictures of you but you don’t quite realize how many dirty pictures of you he has. He definitely keeps a dirty Polaroid picture of you- probably from when you guys were having sex, in his wallet so he can always see you.

E - Experience (How experienced are they in bed?)

We all know Dean is very experienced and it shows. He knows your body better than you do at this point. He knows every little thing about your body, what feels good, what doesn’t, how to make you scream, etc.

F - Favourite Position (self explanatory)

He’s a classic and loves missionary or pretty much any position where he gets to watch your pretty face as he turns you into a big mess. He also loves doggy style and fucking you in the impala (after putting his leather jacket down because baby deserves better than that).

G - Goofy (how serious are they during sex?)

Dean is usually pretty serious during sex but he also likes joking around with you. Sometimes when he’s not as serious, you would both be giggling and laughing together as he fucks into you.

H - Hair (how well groomed are they? What do they think about their partner having hair or not?)

I don’t think Dean would really bother with shaving. He would definitely keep himself pretty trimmed for the most part though.

He would not give a single flying fuck if you shaved or not. You could wax or never shave or anything and it wouldn’t make a difference. All that matters to him is if you’re comfortable or not.

For example:

“Can I take these pretty little panties off, sweetheart?” “I haven’t shaved..” “I don’t give a fuck and that’s not what I asked.”

I - Intimacy (how romantic they during sex)

He’s usually pretty intimate but it takes a while for him to be. He’s used to casual hook ups and one night stands so he never really opened up to anyone that way before.

J - Jack-off (do they masturbate? How often)

This man is such a slut and he masturbates a lot. Sometimes he wishes you would walk in on him and help him out. Whenever you’re apart for whatever reason like if he’s on a hunt without you, 9 times out of 10 he’s jerking off because he misses you.

K - Kinks (some of their kinks)

He 100% has a size kink. He loves how much his cock would stretch you open, more than anything else in the world. Dean also probably has a small daddy or sir kink but it’s not too intense.

Love love LOVES when you tell him he’s doing good. He loves knowing he’s making you feel good and loves your accidental praises while you fall apart. (He loves praising you as well).

L - Location (where they prefer to have sex)

Dean will honestly fuck you anywhere he can. The most common spots you have sex are in bed or in baby (like I said before).

M - Motivation (what turns them on?)

Pretends to hate it but he secretly loves when you’re being bratty, loves putting you back in your place.

N - No (what won’t they do? Turn offs)

Dean is pretty open to anything but he would never want to hurt you too bad, he’s down for a little spanking or even sometimes choking but he will never get too rough in that way. If you don’t want to do something then he doesn’t either.

O - Oral (do they prefer giving or receiving?)

He loves making you feel good but he also goes down on you for himself too. He’s so obsessed with the way you taste, and the noises you make when he eats you out. He also loves when you give him blow jobs but defiantly prefers giving.

P - Pace (how fast&rough or slow&soft they are)

Dean can be very rough but also very soft. He usual likes to fuck you rough and hard into the mattress but he also really likes gentle, soft sex. Especially when it’s early in the morning, you’re both still half asleep but also needy he can be really soft and sweet.

No matter if he’s being rough or soft he makes sure you’re okay constantly.

Q - Quickies (what is their opinion on quickies? Do they do them often?)

Dean is always so horny so quickies are a regular thing for you guys. He obviously loves taking his time with you but when you don’t have much time we is always down for a quickie.

R - Risk (how much do they experiment? Do they take risks?)

He is such a kinky person and would be down to try almost anything with you at least once.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they last?)

He will usually go for 1-2 rounds but he can last up to 4.

T - Toys (do they own toys? How do they use them?)

Dean would hardly ever user toys on you unless you specifically asked him to. He’s selfish and wants to be the only one who can make you feel good.

U - Unfair (how much do they tease?)

I swear to fucking god this man is the biggest tease EVER. He would tease you forever if he could because he loves making you whine and beg for him.

V - Volume (how loud they during sex)

Dean never shuts the fuck up during sex so in that way he’s very loud. As far as moaning goes, he is usually not very loud but he will groan quietly.

W - Wild Card (random headcanon)

Dean loves to edge you, he could go for hours and never get bored. You could be crying and begging for him to let you cum but that cocky little bastard will keep going for a while before be finally lets you cum.

X - X-ray (what are they packing under their clothes?)

He’s a solid 8 inches and is also thick as fuck which he constantly brags to you about.

Y - Yearning (how high their sex drive is)

Hornist man you will ever meet. He is always down for sex.

Z - Zzz (how fast they fall asleep after)

It would usually take Dean a while to fall asleep after sex, unless you really tired each other out. He always makes sure you fall asleep first (even when you don’t have sex), so he can make sure you’re okay and safe. He likes to watch you sleep for a while before actually sleeping himself because he claims that you always look so peaceful.

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x you

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