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nightxcreature · 13 hours ago

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Perfect as always. 🤌🏼🥰

Keep Me Warm (And Touched)

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, tooth-rotting fluff, pre-established relationship, smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, p in v, creampie, body worship)

Summary/Warnings: Your body has changed. Dean still loves it all the same.

Author's Note: I love projecting. Same universe as the other Dean fam fics, but can be read in isolation. Enjoy!

Word Count: 6.9k

You never went out much to begin with. The world is loud, you’re paranoid, and you’d usually spend the whole night at the bar draping yourself over Dean anyway. It had been a claim to your own territory, and reminder to him to claim his.

He’d never minded. His arm would wrap around our waist, lips brushing over your brow every few moments, and his thumb would rub circles on your hips as you buried your face in his side. When the night ended with you laughing at every other word out of his mouth and Dean’s hands wandering to bare skin, he’d drive you back to the bunker with fingers trailing up your thigh. You’d either drag him out of the car to your room, or just give up and strip right there in the Impala.

There were a few other incidents Sam had given you the talk about—the three sitting on him while he drove incidents, the blowjob incidents, and the stairs incident—as if you were nothing but reckless teenagers.

“Dean doesn’t keep condoms in the glove compartment anymore,” he’d scolded you both, and you’d taken the wrong message, looking to Dean with a lovestruck, happy smile.

“You don’t?”

“Course I don’t.” He’d grumbled, kissing the tip of your nose and squeezing his hand on your hip. “You’re my girl, I don’t need to worry about some random chick trying to knock me up.”

You’d giggled as he kissed you fully, climbing onto his lap to deepen it. His hands had moved to tangle in your hair, his groan deep and vibrating in your chest, and you’d started to grind down onto him because he loved you, you were his girl, and he didn’t do casual sex anymore because it was all with you-

“You guys don’t use protection?” Sam had sounded like he was having a panic attack, and Dean had pulled back with a sigh.

“We use protection, Sammy, but we’re clean and she’s on the pill. Not that big a deal.” He’d looked back to you with a wiggle of his brows. “‘Less you’re trying to baby trap me, sweetheart.”

“Of course I’m trying to baby trap you.” You’d rolled your eyes, still smiling at him like an idiot. “I’m a gold digger, I thought you knew that.”

“I did.” He’d let out a dramatic breath. “I was just hoping you could love me for me one day.”

“Nope.” You’d dropped your brow to his. “All I’m in this for is your burgers and fifty identical flannels.”

Dean had leaned past you, giving Sam a smug, winning grin. “She likes my burgers.”

Sam had just made a bitch face, and shaken his head. “You guys are really gross. Please use protection, and try to make it to your own room.”

You and Dean had dismissed him, on both fronts. You’d ended up stumbling into one of the spare rooms, Dean’s hand already sliding under your dress, his shirt and belt long forgotten in the hall. The spare room hadn’t had any condoms. You’d both waved it off, and gotten down to the point of going out in the first place.

Dean pinning you to the bed, his mouth wandering and biting over your nipples, his cock driving so deep into you that everything just seemed to be made of light.

Sam lost the battle, that night, much like most other nights.

But he’d won the war.

Turned out that not using protection did indeed lead to consequences. Namely, pregnancy. And a beautiful baby girl that you’re pretty sure Sam loves more than he loves you and Dean.

He’d volunteered to watch Charlie, while you and Dean went out. But then there had been a salt and burn Garth needed him for—people tried to call Dean out for cases less, after the baby—and it had ended up just being you and Eileen. And it had been fun. Different than before, but fun.

You’d gotten hit on a lot, without Dean there to glare at anyone who tried to take you from his side. Eileen had somehow gotten less random men trying to take her home, without a ring on her finger. And you’d turned them all down the same way. You’re here with your friend, and you’ve got a family back home.

A few of them had taken it worse than others.

One of them had called you a baby-bloated bitch.

You’d just stared at him, a high ringing noise in your ears, and Eileen had dealt with the situation appropriately.

Punching him square in the face.

And it hadn’t ruin the night. The bartended had overheard the insult, and the man had gotten kicked out. Eileen had dragged you over to darts, to try and distract you. It might have worked, if the man hadn’t aimed and hit at a small, wired nerve that you’ve been trying so fucking hard to ignore.

Your body had changed. Everyone’s did, when they aged and had a baby. In the hunting community, that was seen as a miracle, because most people never got either. But you’re not that old. It was one of the reasons Dean noble dumbass Winchester had taken so long to ask you out.

He only got better, the older he got. Just a few nights ago, his head had been on your chest, and you’d run your fingers gently through his hair, smiling at every gray.

But you’re not Dean.

You’re you.

And you trust him with more than your life, but what if things have changed too much. Your lives aren’t sex marathons anymore. You have to use protection—you should’ve been in the first place, and Sam won’t stop gloating about it—because you love your daughter, but you’re a little worried Dean will give himself a heart attack if you’re pregnant while Charlie can barely even walk. Whenever you do go out, it’s to quieter dinners and movies. None of your low cut, barely-covering-your-ass dresses fit the same, anymore.

You’re not sure you could blame him, if he stopped wanting to lay his claim over you. If he still loved you, but didn’t want you. And because he loves you, he’d never say anything about it. Then it would turn into sour resentment for his needs not being met, and then he’d stop loving you, or he’d take more hunts not to look at you, and get himself killed and you’d be a widow with a baby, and you can’t really fucking breathe-

Eileen says your name softly, and the world had blurred. You hadn’t even realized.

“Do you want to go home?”

You nod weakly, taking a long, deep breath, and Eileen offers you a small smile.

“He was a dick.”

“I know.” You sign as you speak, trying to make your voice sound casual, even if Eileen can’t hear it. “I’m just tired.”

She knows you’re lying. You can see it on her face.

But she doesn’t push it. Eileen drives you home with the radio humming softly in the background, and you try to focus on your hands. The ring. Dean gave you the ring. You know he wouldn’t have if he didn’t mean it. And he says that you do this thing where you make it all big for no reason.

“Catastrophize.” You’d hummed, when he’d told you. “That’s the word you’re thinking of.”

“Yeah, that.” Dean had grinned, nipping at your lower lip. “Our baby is gonna be a genius.”

“Because I know one word?”

He’d nodded, slowly moving you onto your back, and somehow ended up with his head between your thighs.

You’d had a lot of sex, during the pregnancy. And you still have sex now.

But maybe he doesn’t want to. And he’s just afraid to tell you. And you’re going to find him jerking off to porn of younger, less damaged and fucked up women, and he’s going to tell you that you just don’t do it for him anymore-

You’re doing it again.

And Dean’s not jerking off, when you open the door to the bunker.

He’s lying on the floor, flat on his stomach, half asleep with his arms spread eagle. He’s holding a pile of coins in each upturned palm, and your daughter sitting on his back.

Not sitting. Crawling.

Grabbing a coin from one hand and crawling over Dean’s back, before going back to move another.

It might be one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen.

And it’s not smothering your anxieties, but it’s calming them. Dean’s not going to leave you. He’s lying on the cold floor just to entertain your baby. His head turns, when the door closes behind you, and he calls out your name.

He sounds exhausted. It is way later than Charlie is supposed to be up.

But you can’t be mad. It’s too good to be mad at, and you’re too tired to pretend.

“I’m home,” you call back, starting down the stairs, and Dean groan.

“Thank, god.” He mutters, dumping to coins on the floor and grabbing Charlie carefully as he rolls onto his back. “Mommy’s home.”

“Mama!” Charlie squeals, trying to push up to her feet, but she can’t really walk yet, and Dean has to keep his hold on her until you stop above them. “Mama, coins!”

She points to the floor, her perfect little face alight with joy—and no sleep—and you smile down at her.

She’s so happy. It never fails to amaze you, how this place is so haunted with people and things lost, but Charlie only ever sees the light that casts the shadows. You know it makes Dean cry sometimes, even if he pretends it doesn’t. It mostly just makes your heart seize for him.

This is what he deserves. A happy life. However he wants it.

And somehow, that’s with you.

“Coins, baby.” You lean down to pick her up, and her little fists catch on your hair in a second. “Did you break daddy?”

“She didn’t break me.” He grumbles, still flat on the floor as you stand back up. “Wouldn’t go down until you got home, sweetheart, that’s not my fault.”

“You could’ve called me-“

“Didn’t wanna ruin your night out.” He grabs your calf, pushing himself up slightly to kiss your ankle. “She’s fed and bathed, just needed mommy to get her bed. You have fun?”

“Yeah.” You sigh, looking to Charlie. If you look at Dean, he’ll see you’re lying.

And Charlie’s already half-asleep in your arms, tugging softly at your hair and yawning when you press a kiss to her head.

“You wanna go to bed, Charlie?”

“Mama go to bed.” She mumbles, and you smile.

“Can you say goodnight to daddy?”

Charlie makes a garbled sound, cut off by another yawn, and Dean squeezes your ankle.

“Night, Charlie.” He says your name, and you glance down to find him looking at you with that expression. The one with low hunger in his eyes, and a smirk that’s going to be the death of you. “Can you tell mama she looks pretty?”

“You look pretty, mama.” Charlie presses her face into your neck, and you give Dean a flat look, kicking his side lightly.

“Kiss ass.”

“Yep.” He nods, still grinning. “After she’s down, can I see what’s under the dress?”

“You know what’s under the dress, Winchester-“

“I forgot. Wanna see it again.”

He gives you the charming, roguish smirk that got you into this situation in the first place, and you sigh.

The moment from the bar won’t stop replaying in your head.

But Dean’s looking at you like he wants you, and rubbing his hand up and down your leg.

You can’t keep thinking about it. You’ll spiral again.

“Let me get her to bed first.” You mumble, and Dean nods, kissing your shin before releasing you and flopping back down on the floor. “You need help getting-“

“Nah. Go put the goblin to bed, I’m not that old yet.”

You giggle, poking him one last time with your foot before walking away. Charlie’s already half out in your arms, so it’s that be hard to get her down. You just have to turn on the baby monitor and cam—she’s been in her own room for almost two months, but Dean has it guarded better than Fort Knox—and tuck her in carefully on her back.

“Mama.” She mumbles, reaching for you, and pause, leaning back over the crib.

“Charlie, baby, wha-“

“Wolfie.”

You nod, scanning around the room before finding her little stuffed wolf lying on the floor.

“Here, honey.” You trace your fingers over her soft cheeks, and she hums, squeezing it tight to her chest. “You have fun with daddy tonight?”

She nods, yawning again before she answers. “Watched ruh roh.”

You smile. Scooby doo. “Was that your idea, or daddy’s?”

“Me.” She mumbles. “Daddy miss you.”

You press your lips together—tears stinging at your eyes—as she yawns again, eyes fluttering closed, and almost jump out of your skin when you feel Dean’s arms wrap around you.

“Fuck-“

“Sorry.” He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. “Just me, sweetheart-“

“I know.” You whack his forearm, and he just grins against your skin. “You missed me?”

Your voice is more nervous than you want it to be. You can’t really fucking help it.

“Course I missed you, baby.” He sucks on a soft spot on your throat, and you swallow you moan. “But I didn’t tell Charlie that. She’s just smart, like her mama.”

He nips at your skin, and you lean your head back on his shoulder. He’s holding you. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t mean it.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Winchester.” You mutter, catching his hand before it can wander under your dress.

Dean just laughs again. “I don’t know, I think it’s getting me everywhere Mrs. Winchester.”

You roll your eyes, letting Dean start to herd you out of the nursery. You can’t respond. You don’t really trust yourself to say anything at all, when Dean’s mouth is still attached to you, but the words are echoing and bouncing around your brain.

“I’m a lucky son of bitch, sweetheart.” He mutters, and you just hum, glancing back to check that Charlie is really down. “Got a smart kid, house, hot wife. Good fuckin’ apple pie life.”

He kicks the door to your room closed, pulling away from you just to turn up the baby monitor. You shift awkwardly in the center of the room as he does, trying not to focus on how cold you feel without him around you. If he leaves you, it will be like this all the time. And Charlie won’t have her dad to watch cartoons with, and she’ll miss him so much-

“You look fucking gorgeous,” Dean’s voice has dropped impossibly low, and you blink at him as he starts to walk you back to the bed. “Missed you all night, baby. Felt like a dog, waiting for you to come home.”

You swallow, your legs hitting the mattress and sending you tumbling back. Your breath hitches in a soft whine, and you can’t tell if it’s the start of tears or a needy plea for more. You certainly want more, with how he’s looking at you. All starvation, his shirt pulled over his head to reveal his broad chest. A little softer, after the baby, but still strong. He’s got better tits that you do now, and it sounds like heaven just to bury you face in his chest as he takes you however, he wants, but-

You don’t feel like something he’ll want. There are stretch marks on your hips. You’re overly sensitive lately, ready to go in about three seconds and unable to last more than ten minutes. You can never tell if you’re actually squirting, or just peeing. Your boobs are bigger than before, but they’re also heavier. Sag more, just like the skin of your thighs.

And Dean’s paused, scanning over you with a tight frown. He’s realizing it. That you’re not what he wants anymore. That you’re not the bouncy, tight woman he met when he got out of purgatory. You’re not good enough-

“Hey.” Dean mutters your name, taking your face between his hands. “What’s wrong.”

You shake your head weakly, and he sighs, kneeling down to hold your gaze.

“You’re thinkin’ so loud I can hear it, baby.” His free hand rubs slowly on your thigh, the fingers on your face wiping away tears than had started falling without your permission. “What happened.”

“Nothing.” You lean into his touch, wrapping your arms around your stomach. “‘M fine.”

He gives you a flat look. “Eileen gonna say the same thing, if I ask her?”

You glare at him, and he only raises his brows.

“C’mon, pretty girl.” His voice is gentle, even as his hands remain firm on your body. “Can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is.”

You let out a long, slow breath. You know him too well. He won’t drop it. “It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You don’t even know what it is-“

“I know it’s making you upset.” He shrugs. “That a hell of a lot more than enough. Tell me.”

You drop your brow down to his, squeezing your eyes shut as you force the words out. “I- I don’t know- It was just something dumb some asshole said-“

Dean tenses. “Someone said somethin’ to you-“

“Eileen already punched him.” You place your hand over his, opening your eyes to give him a pointed look. “No shooting people.”

“Wasn’t gonna shoot anyone.” He grumbles, you smile at him, and his eyes softening in a second. “What’d he say.”

“It’s really nothing-“

Dean says your name, his tone a little more firm than before, and you sigh.

“He was hitting on me. I told him I wasn’t interested, and- He called me a baby bloated bitch.”

Your voice drops off slightly at the end, gaze falling to your lap, and your words are strained in your throat. Dean isn’t saying anything. He’s gone completely still around you, grip on your tight, and you were right, he’s been looking for a reason and you just fucking handed it to him.

“I-“ You sniff, voice breaking. “I told you it was stupid, I’m sorry-“

“Eileen ID him?”

You blink up at Dean, and he’s not really looking at you. He’s got the glazed, murderous look in his eyes that’s usually limited to hunts.

“She’s got a good right hook,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Probably gave the douchebag a broken nose. He’ll need to go a hospital, get it checked-“

“Dean.” You whisper, voice still soft. “You said you wouldn’t shoot anyone-“

“That was before you told me what he said to you, sweetheart. He’s gonna be lucky if I just shoot him, talking to you like that-“

“Dean-“

“Making you fuckin’ sad and-“

“Dean.” Your voice breaks again, and he blinks at you, the angry fog clearing slightly from his eyes. “I don’t want you to shoot him, please, just- It’s not that big a deal-“

Tears start to fall again, a choked sob rising in your throat, and Dean’s eyes widen in what can only be horror.

“Son of a- Wait, baby, don’t-“ He grabs your face again, forcing your gaze on his. “I’m sorry, pretty girl, don’t cry-“

“I- I’m okay-“

“No, you’re-“ Dean cuts himself off, brow furrowing. “Fuck, sweetheart, you don’t believe him, right?”

You shrug, and Dean scowl might be enough to kill someone on its own.

He says your name, and his tone and attention together make you hiccup slightly.

“I- I’m not-“

“Sweetheart.” He grunts, and you sniff, grabbing his wrists to keep him against you. “I told you, I’m the luckiest man alive to get this with you.”

“But-“ You take a shaking breath. “You- You could have it with anyone-“

“I don’t want it with anyone.” He pulls one hand to his mouth, kissing your palm. “Just you. Doesn’t matter what some dick tells you, you’re perfect.”

“I- I’m not- I don’t look the same.“ You swallow, your tears starting to dry into only weak sounds. “You- If you want someone else-“

“Why the hell would I want someone else.” Dean sounds almost offended by the idea, his lip curling at the thought. “I got you, and you’re the best.”

“But-“

“You have any idea,” he drawls, pushing a little higher up on his knees. “How hot you are, all the damn time? It’s not fair, baby girl. Distracting.”

You shake your head, but Dean doesn’t stop, leaning in a little closer.

“Every single day, I don’t think you any get sexier. And you keep fuckin’ proving me wrong.”

“But- My- my body-“

“Perfect.” He says it firmly, hand wandering up your thigh, and you blink at him. He doesn’t understand.

“I- I cum in three seconds now, Dean-“

“I know.” His grin is almost predatory. “It’s fucking awesome.”

You flush, and Dean leans forward, brushing his lips lightly over yours.

“Lemme show you how perfect you are, sweet girl.” He dips his hand under your dress, thumb running over the damp spot on your underwear, and your breath hitches. “I always take care of you, right? Always make you feel good?”

“Yeah.” You mumble, reaching up to hold his face, shaking your head. “De, you don’t have to-“

“I want to.” His voice is almost a growl, and you feel sort of dizzy. “Would love to taste this pretty pussy, gets better every time. Can I, baby?” He kisses you deeply, right as he starts to rub slow circle around your clothed clit. “Please?”

His tone is a little taunting, and you don’t care. He knows what he’s doing. Knows that you’re already putty in his arms, that there’s no world that you don’t let him take what he wants. And he’s waiting for it. For you to give him the clear. Dean draws back with a smirk, holding your gaze as his thumb drags up and down your underwear, flicking when he reaches your clit.

“Words, sweetheart.” He hums, rubbing his free hand up and down your thigh. “You know I need words.”

You nod weakly. “Yes. I- Yes.”

“Yes to what?”

“You make me feel good.” You breathe out, reach up to grab his face as he hooks his fingers on your underwear, slowly starting to drag it down your legs. “You take care of me, Dean. Please- Please take care of me-“

Your words fall to a moan as he starts to kiss over your shoulder, abandoning your underwear around your ankles to tug your dress over your head.

“Whatever you want, beautiful.” He mutters, pinching and rolling a nipple between his finger, an almost feral grin overtaking his face as your mouth falls open. But you can feel it everywhere. His hand moving out from between your legs to hold you upright, as his mouth dives down to suck on your other nipple, never ceasing his movement on the first.

He kisses and sucks over your chest, all while squeezing at your tits, and it’s going to drive you out of your fucking mind. The ache between your legs is growing and growing, every flick of Dean’s tongue sending little lightning bolts through your body until you’re grinding onto the sheets, trying to chase some form of release as Dean builds you higher.

“Oh-“ You moan when he palms at your breast, starting to slowly kiss his way down your stomach. “Dean- More-“

“I know,” he mutters, lips pressed on your inner thigh as he speaks. “Just be patient, sweetheart, I got you.”

You try to roll your hips up, until his face, but he just keeps traveling down. Watching you under hooded eyes, as he makes his way past your knee and down your calf, finally helping you fully out of your underwear before shoving your legs apart.

“So wet.” His voice is deep, as he settles himself between your legs. That combined with his breath, ghosting over your pussy, almost makes you cum on its own. “Never seen such a needy pussy, sweetheart, you’re just achin’ for it, aren’t you.”

You whimper, nodding frantically, and Dean laughs, kissing on your inner thigh again. Sucking a tiny, possessive mark before soothing it with his tongue, amusement and starvation dancing in his eyes as your breathing grows shallow.

“Ready, baby girl?” He winks at you, pressing an almost chaste kiss over your clit. “Don’t hold back.”

You blink at him, not really understanding the order, but you don’t get time to question it. Dean dives into your pussy, starting to eat you out with just as much hungry fervor as the first time you found him between your legs, and you understand.

There’s a loud, desperate and lewd sound that tears out of you, when his tongue starts to plunge in and out of your cunt. Another, higher one follows—meant to be a gasp of his name—when he licks a firm stripe up your cunt, before diving back in. Everything in your is already on fire, it’s only a minute or so before you’re right on the edge.

But Dean said don’t hold back.

So when his stubble scratches your thighs and his tongue curls up inside of you, you let release crash through you like a wave. It’s blissful, making your toes curls and your thighs slam around Dean’s head, and you almost float back down.

Almost.

But he doesn’t stop.

You’re suffocating him, but he just squeezes his hold on you, and pulls yours pussy closer to his face. A second orgasm rockets you back up in a second, and when you grab at his hair—a little longer than usual, just enough to tangle your fingers between—and pull, he growls against you.

That’s a third one. And the world is starting to spin, with the pleasure. You grab one of your own tits, playing with your nipple as he just keeps going, and at this point, the hands massaging on your waist are the only things keeping you from falling backwards.

“Dean-“ You gasp, yanking at his hair again and shuddering when his groan vibrates between your legs. “Dean-“

He shoves your knees back apart and you whine, not sure if you’re trying to get closer to his mouth or further away.

“Dean, I- I can’t-“

You take a sharp breath as he bites at your clit, and Dean smirks, pulling back with a reverent, clouded gaze.

“You can.” He drawls, wiping his chin with two fingers. “Shit, you taste like fucking heaven.” He licks his fingers clean, holding your gaze, and you make a garbled noise of need. “Never gonna get enough, baby. Fuck-“

He crashes back over you, grabbing your face as he moves you back on the mattress. You can taste yourself, on his tongue, and it only makes you moan loud.

“Need more, baby. You’re gonna take more.”

You nod, a little dazed. If Dean says you can do something, you can do it. He’s rarely been wrong about that kind of stuff.

“There you go.” He mutters, kissing the space between your eyes as you relax below him. “Just take it, sweet girl. Doin’ so good for me.”

A soft sound leaves you at the praise, and Dean rises back up on his knees. He pulls his shirt over his head and sheds his own pants and underwear, before grabbing your ass and angling it up, hooking your knees over his shoulders. He splays one hand over your lower back, keeping you up, and your pussy is only inches from his lips once more. There’s a second where the position is uncomfortable, and you’re blinking up at him with a small frown.

Then Dean shoves two fingers deep into your cunt, latches his lips around your cunt, and you’re flying right out of your body.

There’s not a single nerve in your body that isn’t on fire. You’re bucking up into him as his tongue presses flat against you and he sucks, trying to wiggle away from every relentless thrust of his fingers, but it’s useless. You’re trapped against him, grabbing hopelessly at your sheets for some hope of grounding yourself, and trembling as another orgasm shakes your body. Dean picks up the speed, starting to leave quick, teasing licks on your clit, and every sound that escapes you is almost inhuman.

There’s nothing in your body but pleasure anymore, and the same repetitive song of Dean.

Your mouth falls open, as his teeth graze over you, and his fingers crook right on that deep, spongey spot inside of you. There’s a heat, building up in your core that’s molten and almost painful. When you tryin to warn him, it only comes out as a moan, and he doesn’t break for a second.

“I- I’m gonna-“ You reach up for him, and he just sucks harder, making fall back down. “Dean-“

He presses his fingers firmly up, still rubbing on your g-spot without relenting his assault on your clit, and the heat explodes. Rushes through your whole body as you spasm in his hold, your arms flying and high gasps of his name falling from your lips.

Something wet is running down your ass, and Dean’s face is shining when he finally lets you go. He doesn’t bother to clean it up, before he’s crawling back over you to give you a soft, gentle kiss.

“So close, baby.” He hums, stroking his hand gently through your hair. “Almost there. You want it all?”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up on what he means. You don’t know if you can take it all. But fuck, with how he’s looking at you, it would be nice to try.

“All.” You whisper, and Dean grins like he just won a prize.

“Good girl.” He kisses you again, then pulls back up.

You don’t have any strength left to fight him, as he flips you over and pulls your ass back into the air. You can only bury your face in the sheets, trying to focus on how they smell like Dean, and not sweat and cum. He kisses slowly up your spine, until you’re fully relaxed, legs spread in his lap for him to do as he pleases.

“You got no idea.” He growls from above you, rubbing your ass slowly before landing a firm slap. “Just how fuckin’ perfect you are.”

A moan is all you can answer with, and Dean chuckles, landing another sharp hit before dragging his fingers back up and down your pussy.

“When I met you, I thought there was never gonna be anyone better.” He drawls, this time spanking your pussy before tease his fingers over your soaked, fluttering entrance. “But I was wrong. Because every single freakin’ year, you just get more and more beautiful. Maybe I need to knock you up again, see if it’ll make you so perfect just the sight of you makes me cum in my pants, like a damn teenager.”

You whine, and Dean rubs his knuckles over your swollen clit, before dragging them back down to your cunt.

“You know I just a semi, just when I think about you?” He won’t stop talking. You’re going to maybe cum from just his words. “I’d have to lose my damn mind to leave you, baby girl. If I ever try, shoot me, cause that ain’t me, that’s a fuckin’ shifter.”

He slaps your ass again, and you can feel your arousal sliding down your thighs.

“Dean.” You mumble, trying to twist around to pout at him. “Stop teasing-“

“Not teasing, sweet girl.” He rolls his thumb in circles around your clit, and you have to bury your face in the mattress when he hits your pussy again. “Just tryin’ to get you to see you how I see- Huh.”

You pause, the silence stretching on longer than you’d want. You’re ready to flip back over and question him, when he mutters your name, kissing the small of your back.

“Love you. So fuckin’ much.” His arm wraps back around your stomach. “Hold on.”

Dean hauls you back up against his chest, before turning you both around so he’s leaning on the headrest of his bed. Your mouth falls open as he sinks you onto his thick cock, eyes rolling back in your head at the feel of him bumping and pressing against every sensitive, abused and ruined place inside of you. One of his arms stays wrapped around you, keeping you tight against him as his hand rests on your abdomen, and the other wanders up your chest. He plays with your breasts before wrapping his hand around your neck, and forcing your attention forward.

Onto the mirror.

You freeze, avert your gaze, but Dean doesn’t loosen his hold, still kissing over and bare skin he can reach.

“Dean- Dean, the-“

“Yeah, I know.” He turns your face away briefly, to meet his eyes, and it almost knocks you out. How there’s nothing but devotion and adoration behind them. How he still looks at you like you’re the only real thing in the world. “You trust me?”

You don’t hesitate before you nod, and Dean smiles. Kisses you one time—long and deep, with his tongue down your throat and a deep rumble of pleasure from his chest—before thrusting suddenly up, and laughing at your noise of surprise.

“Still feel so fucking good,” he growls into your mouth, and you’re loose in his arms once more. “Squeezing my cock just right, fucking made for me.”

You can’t answer, and Dean thrusts up again, starting to set a slow, torturous pace. Dragging through your pussy until you’re alight with desire, the only sounds in the room the slapping of his balls on your ass and the wet noise of his cock, driving in and out of your pussy.

“My perfect girl, always takin’ me so well.” Dean squeezes lightly on your throat, emphasizing each worked with another thrust, and your nails dig into his forearm. “So cockdrunk you can’t even talk, baby? Can’t think anything about how fuckin’ good you feel?”

You nod feverishly, clenching around him, and Dean groans.

“Jesus- You’re something.” He says it like you’re everything, and you whimper, writhing in his arms. Dean pinches your clit, and you almost scream. “That’s right, sweet girl. Cum for me, soak my fuckin’ cock.”

Starlight and fireworks flash behind your eyes as you find your last, most powerful release, and Dean grabs your jaw, forcing your gaze back to the mirror.

And you can do nothing but watch, as you cum in his arms. It’s a portrait of some more than sin. Your skin flushed, lips swollen and mouth hanging open. Eyes lidded and glassy with pleasure, as Dean just keeps rutting up into you. You can see your pussy, gushing and squeezing around him, watch as his cock slides in and out. Glance up to see Dean himself, attacking your neck with kisses, then trail down your body to see every tiny mark he’s left littered over your skin. His hand covers your throat competently, and his hand on your clit is rubbing in a blur, and you shake as this orgasm crests into another.

Dean slams home with a roar of your name, and you can’t look away from where he’s buried deep inside of you, thrusting unevenly against your g-spot and rubbing your clit to keep you fluttering around him. Cum starts to run between where your bodies are connected, and you’ve never felt so fucking full in your life.

You look almost like art, with him. Like this. You feel holy, with how he’s holding you, how you look like some sort of ruined queen, sitting against Dean’s chest.

You feel like a goddess.

It’s all you can really feel, as you float back down. Dean. Inside you and around you, muttering low praise in your ear as you slump against him. Kissing over your neck in comfort, before slapping your clit and making your back arch. A high whine leaves your throat, and he chuckles at you squirm in his arms, grabbing your chin and angling it to meet his gaze.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah.” You whisper, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Don’t.” He kisses you, open mouthed and lazy, and you reach up to curl your fingers on his cheek. “Love you, baby. Never gonna love you less because of your body. Which, to be real damn clear, is perfect.”

You hum against his lips. “Okay.”

He draws back with a small frown. “You believe me-“

“I believe you.” You whisper, giving him a soft smile. “I love you, too. So I’m thank you anyway.”

Dean grunts, pressing a small, softer kiss to the corner of your mouth before hauling you off his cock.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He grunts, guiding you to your feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You make a soft sound of agreement, mostly sitting in the warmth of Dean’s body around yours. After he pulls on his boxers his hands find your sides, and he steers you to the bathroom. The warmth of his chest, pressed to your back, and his mouth ghosting over the top of your head. He sits you on the toilet before shuffling over to the sink, and grabbing your toothbrush.

“I can’t brush on the toilet, De-“

“Just gettin’ it ready,” he mutters, setting is down on the counter before returning to stand above you.

He grabs your face between his hands as you pee, and you suddenly feel naked. The light is low, but not enough that he can’t see everything, and you’re peeing, and maybe this is what makes him walk away-

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” He mutters, thumb trailing over your lips, and the nerves fall peacefully back down. You open your mouth mindlessly, and Dean groans as your tongue flicks over the pad of his finger. “You’re aiming for round two, baby, aren’t you.”

You give him a sweet smile. “Maybe.”

His nostrils flare, hand gliding to the back of your neck, he leans down to give you a firm, hungry kiss.

“Charlie’s gonna be up too early.” He mutters, free hand wandering down to palm at your breasts. “But Sammy’ll be back, and he can take her out so we can do stuff to each other.”

You giggle, biting his lower lip. “Stuff?”

He nods, drawing back up with a wink. “I’m gonna do the thing.”

“Oh.” You flush, thighs pressing together at the glinting promise in his eyes. “Okay.”

Dean puffs out his chest slightly, flicking your nose before letting you focus on wiping. When you’re done, he helps you over to the sink—you can walk just fine, even with the soreness, but you think it makes him feel better, so you indulge it—and hangs around your body before you both return to the bedroom. You take the shirt Dean tosses you, as he pulls on his own sweatpants. But when you try to put on your underwear, he stops you. Scoops you up bridal style and tosses you down onto the bed with a wide grin, before prowling over your body.

“Dean-“ Your breath hitches, and he pulls his sweats and boxers down, starting to stroke his cock with a smug smirk. “You said we needed to sleep-“

“I know what I said,” he shrugs, leaning down to kiss your cheek, then whispering in your ear. “I’m not fucking you again, baby. Just want to feel you.”

You blink at him, and that would be two times in one night that you’re ignoring all the lessons learned about protection and it leading to tiny, perfect gremlins. But Dean’s looking at you like a man starved. And it makes you feel like you might just be the perfect thing he claims you are.

It doesn’t really matter if you are, though.

Just as long as Dean thinks so.

“What if Charlie-“

“I can get up for her,” he murmurs, peppering kisses over your neck, and you wrap your arms around his neck with a sigh.

“Okay.”

Dean pushes a little back up. “You don’t have to, sweetheart-“

You roll your hips up to meet him, and he cuts himself off with a grunt.

“Less talking.” You mutter, and he nods, running his hands slowly over your pussy as he settles over you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dean slides back inside of you, kissing you until everything feels soft, and you’re molded right into his body. His weight drops carefully over yours, with only a second of adjustment until you’re folded carefully into his arms and he’s kissing over your neck.

“Night, baby.” He mutters, and you hum, brushing your fingers through his hair.

“Good night.” You let your eyes flutter closed as Dean’s breath starts to even out, and sleep starts to pull you down with him.

The feeling of him pressed into you is mostly just a heavy comfort. It’s still consuming, but it’s right there with the exhaustion. Just peaceful. Dean fitting perfectly inside of you. Close. As connected as you can possibly be, with his breath warm over your skin and his hands resting possessively on your body.

He’s holding you like he’s never going to let go.

And if the sweet, light aftermath of the night, you know he never will.

End Note: Once again explaining that I need him in a way that's concerning to feminism.

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nightxcreature · 7 days ago

Text

You had me in that first half @justwhisperingfantasies I won’t lie 😮‍💨🤣

I’m so excited for the next part! 🫶🏼

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Characters: Reader. Jensen. Jared. Mac. Alex. JDM. Clif. Background OCs.

Warnings: Language. Tooth Rotting Fluff. Mentions Of Vomiting. Mood Swings. Mentions Of Emergency Surgery. Appendicitis

You guys are amazing. Seriously thank you for every heart, reblog, and comment. I love hearing your feedback. 🫶

Please do not copy my work.

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Special thanks to @copperboom82 for your awesome beta skills and all the support. Love you!

Jensen.

They say the longest pause you will ever feel in your life is the one that follows the words, 'Will you marry me?’

For Jensen, that pause seemed to last a fucking lifetime.

The doubts swirled in his head as he stared up at her- was she ready for this? Was he ready for this? Was he being crazy?

He needed her to say something, anything at this point.

“Um, baby, now would be a great time for you to say something.”

She stayed silent, continuing to stare. He couldn’t help but smile, she was too damn cute with her eyes wide and her mouth half slacked.

“Fuck off, Jensen,” he stammered. “Yes I’ll marry you, Jensen. What the hell is wrong with you, Jensen. Any of those will do, though I would prefer the second one.”

He swallowed hard, heart pounding against his rib cage as he watched her eyes gaze at the ring that had once been his grandmothers.

“Babe!” He slightly raised his voice, finally getting her attention.

His anxiety lifted when her lips twisted into a smile.

“You’re sure about this?”

“Of course I am.”

“And you’re not doing this because of the whole brewery thing?”

“Babe, seriously?”

She ignored him and continued to ramble. “Because you know I'm not expecting this just because I saved—”

“Y/n!” Jensen slightly raised his voice again. “I'm doing this because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” he noticed the extra moisture in her eyes. “I’d actually decided and had the ring before the big surprise… So, you gonna give me that finger, now?”

She let out a small chuckle. “Did you really think I’d say no, Ackles?”

“Ya never know, people make dumb decisions all the time,” he quipped back, sliding the ring on her .

He watched as she wiggled her fingers, awe on her face as she watched the diamond dance.

“Do you like it?” he asked, rising to his feet.

“No,” she smarted with a grin. “I love it.”

“Smartass,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

“You are absolutely sure about this?” she whispered into the crook of his neck.

“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have shot my load in you,” he joked, making a belly laugh push past her lips. “Now shoot some damn pool with me, fiancée!”

Reader.

You were dead set on not drawling attention to your left hand or mentioning anything about the whole getting engaged thing, but when Erica squealed and demanded to see the ring as soon as you walked through the front doors of the Peds office, you knew it was going to be fucking impossible. Damn Mac and her big mouth.

The oohs and ahhs were something you got used to. And you gave a 'thank you' for every congratulations that you were given.

But in the break room at lunch time the dreaded “Really?!” came from Ashley, the newest nurse. And that didn't help the feeling you already had.

“Seriously, y/n don’t let it get to you,” Erica said once Ashley had walked out of the room. “You and Jensen have bee through a lot. And managed to come out stronger. Do not let little bitches like her get in your head.”

“Yeah, I know,” you told her, trying to push the inconsiderate comment out of your mind, but not really having the best of luck.

“So, have you picked a date yet?”

“No, not yet. It just happened last night.”

“Oh, please tell me it’s going to be a spring wedding,” Erica chirped, waving her hands in excitement.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, there boo.”

“Oh, but it would be so cute…”

You tuned out the talks of flowers and flowy white dresses - what was wrong with you? Shouldn’t you be excited for all those things? Weren’t most girls after getting engaged to the love of their life?

You excused yourself from the table, not be able to shake the feeling in the pit of your stomach. You whipped out your phone and opened the text between you and Jensen; maybe he would help.

Y/n: Hey doll face, hope you are okay with a spring wedding. Erica practically has everything already planned.

The replying bubble popped up immediately after you hit the send icon.

Jensen: Spring, next week, tomorrow. Whenever you want baby.

The corners of your mouth perked up.

Y/n: All right then it’s settled, after I get home from work.

Jensen: BET?

Y/n: What if I’m not joking?

Jensen: Just say the word…

Y/n: Lol, I love you.

Jensen: I knew your ass would chicken out.

Jensen: Ps I love you more.

The day dragged on - looking at your watch you realized it had only been an hour since you texted him, though it felt like five. With a hefty sigh you couldn't help but wonder, would Jensen be able to pull off a wedding in one hour? What would it look like? Would he pick out your dress or would he have Gen or one of the Megs to it for him?

You flinched when you heard the knock on the door. "All done?" Erica asked stepping through your open door.

"Almost, just one more thing to type up."

"And what time is your flight tomorrow?" she asked sitting in the chair on the other side of your desk.

"Um, we have to be there at five am. Why what's up?"

"Why don't you finish that up and leave?"

"Really?" you questioned with furrowed brows.

"Why not? I checked your schedule, you don't have any more appointments. You could go home, surprise Jensen, talk over the spring wedding idea." she chuckled.

"I mean if you're okay with it and you have enough hands around here."

"We will be fine."

"Well, all right then."

You skipped to your car, giddy with the excitement of getting to surprise Jensen. You hit the voice command button on the steering wheel of the car once it was started. "Call Ackles," you told the robot.

After several rings you heard his voice. "Hey, It's Jensen. You know what to do." Then a loud beep.

"Hey, babe. Just calling to check in, say hi. I thought you said you had the day off. Gimme a call when you get this. Love you." You pushed the end call button with a huff.

And just like that the gnawing feeling was back full force. You cranked your radio and rolled down the windows maybe the thick muggy Texas air would help clear your mind.

You were just starting to feel a little bit better when the Led Zeppelin stopped and your ringtone started to play. Disappointment flowed through you, seeing Jared's name on your screen instead of Jensen's.

"Hey Sasquatch, what's up?"

"Hey, have you talked to Jensen today?" he asked, he voice serious and full of concern.

"Um, we texted a little around lunch time…"

"I've called him three times and he hasn't called me back. It's not like him."

"Well, I'm pulling into the house now. Maybe he just got pulled into something. I will have him call you when I find him."

"Thanks, Bon."

"No problem."

You ended the call whipping around to walk way in front of the house, you would put Beau in the garage once you found Jensen and made sure everything was okay.

"Baby!" you called out, slipping your shoes off by the door. Although you doubted anyone could hear you over the Barry Manilow Blaring from Jensen's entertainment system.

The music only got louder the closer to the living room you got. 'What the fuck,' you thought when you saw the back sliding glass door open. You swallowed hard and continued.

Your blood ran cold when you saw them - some big boobed, blonde haired bimbo riding your fiancée. You had always believed the 'if things seem too good to be true, they probably are' expression, but you thought this was different, thought he was different.

Jensen

His arms tightened around her when he heard the soft sniffles. "Baby…" he murmured as he felt the wet drop on his bare chest.

"I'm okay," she told him, not nearly as convincing as she was trying to be. "Go back to sleep."

"I will after you tell me what you were dreaming about."

"Just a bad dream. Seriously Jensen, it's fine."

"Talk to me… please, sweetheart," he pleaded.

"It's nothing."

Lies. He could tell something was really bothering her when more teardrops fell on his skin.

"Let me help."

And with those words the flood gates opened; he rolled holding her as she sobbed. Jensen, for sure, thought the dream had been about her mom or dad, not some silly him cheating on her dream. He bit his lips together holding back a chuckle after she explained the whole thing.

"You're not suppose to laugh at me," she choked out. "I know it's stupid, but it felt so real. And—"

"And?" he asked when she stopped mid sentence.

"And it's you."

"Me?" He chuckled. "Baby, you don't have to worry about that at all. I found what I wanted and who I wanted. I swear. I ain't gonna mess this up for anyone or anything."

"Until—"

"Until nothing," he cut her off. "I am in this for the long haul y/n, no if ands or buts."

She stayed silent but it seemed like the tears she stopped.

"Jensen."

"Yes, baby?"

"I love you."

"I love you too," he told her, placing a kiss on the top of her head. He felt her mouth twitch up when he started to hum, combing his fingers through her hair until her breath became heavy and even.

Jensen

The day started out just like the last con, the elevator ride - Jared and y/n giving Jensen shit and then her turning on Jared. Clif taking her side, threatening physical harm if Jared tried anything.

Meg and Megan running through the agenda for the day, like they hadn't been through this a few hundred times. Jensen couldn't stop staring at her, his fiancée. A smile spread across his face as the word echoed in his mind.

She was leaning on the opposite side of the elevator, just yapping away away on her phone with a giggle here and there, probably yapping to Mac about something Supernatural related. These days she was just as obsessed as her best friend was. Her brow quirked up when her eyes shifted, catching him through her lashes.

"You got a problem there, Ackles?" she quipped, shutting off the screen of her phone.

"Nope, do you have a problem?" he smarted back with a smile.

"I'm not the one staring."

He made a whining, mocking sound as his head wobbled, earning a laugh from her.

"You ready?" Jensen asked when the elevator dinged.

"As I'll ever be," she sighed, giving him a smirk.

"Oh come on, Bon," Jared said stepping beside her. "It ain't that bad."

"I guess not," she agreed, still smiling.

"I think she should do the panel with us tomorrow," Jensen teased, holding his bent elbow out to her.

Jared looked at her with wide eyes.

"Yeah that's not happening," she retorted, resting her hand in the bend.

"You know the drill, go shop. I'll see you after?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Do you want some money this time?"

Her eyebrows raised. "That's. not happening either."

"One of these days, you're gonna have to let me buy you something," he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist

She stretched up on her tip toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Not a chance, doll face."

Reader.

"Hey baby," Mac said, lowering her voice as she stepped beside you.

"Well hello there gorgeous. Fancy meeting you here."

"So…"

"So…" you repeated. "What?"

"Have you picked a date yet?"

"No," you sighed.

"And why not?"

"No reason… Come on, let's go get some food."

Clif gave you a nod when you looked over your shoulder.

"You hungry, big guy?"

"Starving."

The diner across the street was dead. Not a bad thing for you guys - you were sat at a table immediately, looking over the menu you heard a familiar voice.

"Well, well, well. If it's ain't the future Mrs. Ackles."

You looked up to find a wide grin on Jeff's face.

"Oh my god! Mac, It's Jeffery Dean Morgan!" you quipped dramatically.

"Oh in the flesh sweetheart," he gestured to the chair beside you. "This seat taken?"

"Now it is it."

He chuckled as he sat. "So y/n. Let me see it."

"See what?"

"Smart ass, gimme your hand."

You laughed, placing your left hand in his.

"The kid did a good job. It's very nice."

"It was his grandmother's," Mac spoke up.

"Really? That's pretty fucking big."

"I know," you agreed.

"I'm happy for the two of ya. I don't remember seeing him this happy, ya know."

"Thanks, Jeff."

"Do we have a date in mind?" he asked, looking over to Mac when she cleared her throat. "What?"

"There's some reason behind her not picking a date yet." Clif chimed in.

"There is not," you argued. "He's busy, we have to go over his schedule and—"

"So what's the reason?" Jeff challenged,

"If I had to guess…" Mac started, "she's waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Jeff looked back to you with furrowed brows. "You think he's going to back out of it?"

"No… I don't know."

"Hello, I'm Katie, I'll be your waitress," the younger blonde said, pulling her notebook out of her pocket. "Can I get you started with some drinks?"

"I will take a coke, please," you told her.

She scribbled down everyone's answer. "I'll be right back."

"So…"

"Do we really have to do this?" you huffed.

"No I guess not," Jeff said, picking up a menu. "But you probably should talk to Jensen about it."

"Yeah, yeah," you blew him off, taking your drink from the waitress when she handed it to you. "Thank you."

The conversation changed and your mood lightened with it. Jeff went on about Hilarie and the kids. Clif joined in and agreed boys were way easier than girls.

You were half way through your sandwich when you smelled it, when the waitress walked passed the nausea hit you like a truck. You quickly excused yourself and ran to the rest room.

Reader

"Do you really think it's just because you get nervous for conventions? Or is there something I should know about?" Mac asked, holding out a paper towel when you stepped out of the stall.

"I'm fine."

"And the reason you're holding your side?"

"I said I am fine."

But the truth was you weren't. Your side was killing you and you still felt sick to your stomach, even though there was nothing left in it.

"The meat on my sandwich was probably left out or something," you told her, walking back out to the diner room.

"You good?" Jeff asked, putting his card back into his wallet.

"You didn't have to—"

"Calm down y/n, it was just lunch," Jeff told you. "Not a big deal."

He was right, it wasn't a big deal and you knew that, but you couldn't shake the irritated feeling flowing through you.

"Are we ready to go back?" Clif asked, trying to change the subject as he rose to his feet.

"Yeah, I think so," you responded, heading for the door.

"Really? Jensen asked her?"

The whispers from the table you were passing did not help your mood in any way. You stopped and turned to the teens, but before you could go off, Clif grabbed your arm and practically dragged you outside.

"What the hell?"

"Look, I know it's hard and I know you aren't in the best head space right now. But yelling at some bitchy teenagers is not going to make you look good right now."

You let out a sigh. You knew he was right but god damn it you were pissed at the world and everything was just bubbling up.

"I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize, I get it," Clif said, nudging your shoulder with his fist. "I got your back kid."

Jensen

He could tell something was wrong the second he saw her, though her face lifted a bit and her brows raised when he motioned her over to the table.

"So we heard the news."

His attention shot back to the couple standing in front of him.

"Congratulations," the man said. "Any certain date picked yet?"

"Thank you. No not yet." He grabbed the empty chair to his left, patting the empty seat once it was beside him. "She would be the one to talk to about that. I am down for whatever, whenever."

"Oh my gosh, hi!" the woman exclaimed, holding her hand out. "You are so pretty, like you're pretty in pictures, but wow in person."

Jensen let out a soft chuckle when y/n stammered out a thank you.

"What's up?" she asked when the couple walked away

"You tell me, what's wrong?"

"I'm not sure."

"Hi!" Jensen's eyes shifted to the little girl in front of him. Rising to his feet, he stuck his arms out when the tears started to spill from her eyes. "Come here." He picked up and sat her right on the table. "What's your name sweetheart?"

"Chloe."

"Well Chloe, I'm Jensen and this is y/n."

"I know! My mom said that I can't marry you because you are going to marry y/n."

"Aw, if I'd of known I wouldn't of asked her." He heard a giggle from the little girl and from y/n. "You know I can still kick her to the curb," he quipped nudging her knee with his own.

Chloe looked up at her mom with wide eyes.

"Eh, maybe in a few years, there sis."

"But Mom. Jensen Ackles."

"I don't know Chloe, are you sure you wanna marry this guy?" y/n said, getting a quirked eyebrow from Jensen. "You know he is snores?"

"What?" Chloe and Jensen said in unison.

"Mhmm, like super loud."

"It's okay, I still love you," Chloe reassured him.

"Enough to marry me though?"

"Eh, maybe not." She leaned in to Jensen's ear. "Besides I can tell you really love her."

"I really do," He whispered back.

He signed the photo she had of him - it was the season 4 promo shot with him and Jared. "Are you gonna have Jay-rod sign it too?"

"Of course. Thank you!"

"You are very welcome. It was nice meeting you, Chloe."

"You too Jensen!" she called back.

"Well that was adorable," y/n voiced, leaning back in her chair.

"Yeah, I have my moments. You gonna tell me why you're holding your stomach?"

"I hurts a little."

"Should I be worried?"

"Nah, probably nothing," she insisted, still earning an eye narrowing look from him. "Seriously, I'm fine. Just maybe ate too much."

"You would tell if—"

"Yes Jensen, I would tell you if I thought it was serious," she huffed.

"Okay," Jensen said gesturing the next fan over.

"Ah!" the girl squealed as they walked up to him,

He caught y/n biting back a smile out of the corner of his eye.

"Hi, holy sh—"

Y/n slapped his thigh before the cuss word slipped out of his mouth.

"Did you draw this?" Jensen asked, admiring the piece of art laying in front of him.

"Mhmm."

"She sure did," her friend beside her answered.

"Wow,"

"Thank you," the artist stammered. "I was trying to capture the rage and hold that the Mark had on Dean."

"Well you did a hell of a job. What's your name?"

"Sophia."

"How old are you, Sophia?"

"I'm 19."

"You're 19 and you can draw like this?" Jensen mused, still flabbergasted at how great the piece was.

He noticed the small whine and y/n's grip get tighter on her side as Sophia told him about her lifelong dream of painting the Sistine Chapel.

"Well, keep doing stuff like this and you will be there in no time."

"She drew that too," Her friend spoke up when Jensen grabbed the second piece of art. "For my birthday."

"Like recently?"

"Um, a week ago now."

"Well happy late birthday…"

"Savanna."

A smile spread across the young girl's face when Jensen repeated her name.

"19 as well?"

"Yep."

"Wow, just wow. Tell me about this one."

"Well, this one is season three after Dean made the demon deal and after realizing there was no saving him."

"I love it," y/n voiced as Jensen tilted the painting in her direction. "You can really see the fear in his eyes, and the brush strokes around the hair is flawless. Also the shading ah," she rambled and gestured a chef's kiss.

They thanked him again and walked away.

"Well look at you Ms. Artsy," he quipped, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

"I went to Columbia," she chuckled. "You think I don't know about art?"

"Your side still hurting?"

"A little, but it's nothing." She lifted off the chair and pressed her lips to his. "So I am going to hit vendor's row before all the good stuff is gone."

"Have fun, baby," he called after her with a chuckle.

Reader.

You knew that Mac picked up on the pain as soon as you met her gaze. Letting out a sigh you walked through the line of security guards - you knew she was going to mother you and you knew how annoying she was going to be about it.

"That's the right side of your belly button," Mac said, picking up on your pain immediately.

"I know."

"That's the bad side."

"Mac—"

"And you were puking earlier…"

"Thank you Sherlock," you snapped, continuing on your way to the next room. "You do know I have a medical degree?"

"So fancy Columbia Medical Degree," she followed. You weren't surprised, Mac wouldn't let this one go. "What would you tell your patient right now or the parent of one of your patients?"

You stayed silent, you didn't have a leg to stand on.

"Yeah, you would tell them to get their ass to the freaking hospital."

"Not exactly. I will be fine, who knows I might be pregnant." You bit your lips closed.

"Again?"

You never had any secrets from your best friend well, until about 3 weeks ago when you and Jensen stopped taking precautions.

"I don't need a lecture right now. Besides, it's not like it's some rando I found in a bar. I have a fucking engagement ring on my finger."

“Oh, so you are trying to get pregnant, that makes perfect sense.”

“Don’t. You know, you and Alex aren’t exactly moving slow either."

“I just don’t get how you are willing to get knocked up by him, but setting a date you have an issue with.”

“I don’t owe you or anyone else an explanation. You know you’re not my mom right?”

“Nobody is trying to—”

Your loud huff cut her words off, spinning on your heels you rushed for the exit.

Jensen

Jensen thought it weird y/n hadn't come back to meet him after the autographs were over, but then again she had been acting weird all day. 'What the fuck?' he thought, looking down at his phone - no texts, no missed calls, nothing.

"Hey, you heard from y/n?" he asked, still scanning the crowd for her face.

"Let me check," Jared said, pulling his own phone out of his pocket and turning on the screen. "Nah man, I got nothing. Maybe she's just upstairs… didn't want to bother you."

Jensen rolled his eyes, she should know by now nothing she did would never bother him.

"We got time before ops. Let's go."

They wasted no time, power walking through the crowded spaces, Carl on their heels with every step.

Once on the elevator Jensen opened their text conversation and started typing.

Jensen: Hey sweetheart, haven't heard from you in a while. Jared and I are headed back up to the room. Hope to see your pretty face there 😘

He waited for the bubbles to pop instead his phone started to ring, letting out a sigh of relief he answered and brought the phone up to his ear.

"Hey baby, I was just—"

"Jensen, It's Mac. How fast can you get to Spring Valley Hospital."

A million scenarios ran through his mind, he couldn’t hear anything after the word hospital, not over the thumping of his quickened pulse in his ears.

“Jensen…”

Jared could tell his best friend has gone into shock, taking the phone from Jensen’s hand he held it up to his ear. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Jared, it’s Mac. Y/n has been rushed into emergency surgery. And I don’t know what to do. And I don’t know who to call I need—”

“Mac. Give me 15 minutes and we will be there.”

Jensen and Jared rushed through the emergency doors as they slid open,

“Oh my.”

“Yeah Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki,” Jared said, pointing his finger as he said their names. “Look, his fiancée came in with appendicitis.”

“What’s the name?”

“Mac!”

Jared flinched when he heard Jensen’s voice for the first time in what seemed like hours.

“Thank god,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around both of them when they got close.

“Have you heard anything?”

“Yeah, they took her into surgery awhile ago. They should be coming out with an update soon. They caught it before it ruptured, so that’s good.”

“Yeah but—”

“Ms. Gordon…”

“Yes,” Mac responded, spinning on her heels. “It’s okay, this is her fiancée and his brother.”

The doctor gave a nod and continued. “The surgery went well, we were able to remove the appendix without any complications. She will be on an IV drip for infection and pain meds if need be; she's lucky you brought her in when you did.”

“So she is going to be okay?”

“Yes, her and the baby are going to be fine.”

Jensen’s mouth went bone dry. “Baby?!”

Tag List <3

@barnes70stark @idk6505 @hobby27 @amberlthomas @nightxcreature @americanvenom13 @quietgirll75 @Ddeansimpalababy @riteofpassage77

@hunter-or-the-hunted @jtink27 @mqdhvtter @sbwifey @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @spnaquakingdom @roseblue373 @jackles010378 @smoothdogsgirl

@sabriel4evah @gina239 @kr804573 @smoothdogsgirl

#jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #jensen x y/n #jensen x reader #jensen fanfic

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nightxcreature · 11 days ago

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This. 😩

how did people get regular anons in their inbox

i yearn for random people yapping in my inbox constantly 😔

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nightxcreature · 20 days ago

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You give me life every time I’m on this little app. Stg. 🤣

Also, I thought I was down there? Weird…

ugh they cropped me out🙁

#supernatural #dean winchester

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nightxcreature · 20 days ago

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I want. I want. I want.

💳👋💳👋 💳TAKE MY MONEY 💳👋💳👋💳

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ (younger) age gap!reader x dean headcanons ๋࣭ ⭑

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

──★˙. He always pretends to be chill about the age gap. He's not. He'll always joke about being the "old man" or make comments about you wasting your time with an older guy like him. You always shut that idea down straight away.

──★˙. You make him feel young again. He laughs more when he's with you. He sleeps better. You drag him into new hobbies, music, and remind him what he's missed out on during his younger years. He's spent his whole life being used. To hunt, to protect and fight. You see past all that. You also remind him he's funny, thoughtful and clever. Worthy.

──★˙. You stand your ground with him. Dean tries to push you away "for your own good," you're right there with your smart-ass grin, telling him you're not going anywhere. He needs someone who won't let him self-sabotage.

──★˙. Dean's incredibly protective. Whether it's a sketchy bar, a rough hunt, or someone your age hitting on you. He ensures that they know you're his. Hand on your lower back, a subtle but fierce aura surrounds him when it comes to you.

──★˙. He always gets nervous when you meet people your own age. There's a flicker of doubt in his eyes, like "what if she realises she could have someone simpler--someone with less baggage?"

──★˙. Dean loves to teach you things you never learned growing up. How to fix a car, how to shoot and stay alive. When it comes to you, he's super slow and patient. Knowing that something like this can save your life one day.

#give him to me #please #spn #supernatural #dean winchester

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nightxcreature · 21 days ago

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“He deserved better than that SHIT finale!!!! Give my boy a LIFE!!!! LET HIM PUT HIS TOES IN THE SAND!” I scream as they drag me into hell

The fact that Dean is already expressing a desire to leave the life and be done with hunting in s2e9 just crushes my soul entirely. He hasn’t hit the tip of the iceberg as far as shit he’s going to go through. He’s just a baby trying his best to care for his brother and he has so much awful stuff ahead of him. Oh Dean Winchester, I ache for you.

#I just want to see him LIVE #spn #spnfandom #dean winchester

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nightxcreature · 22 days ago

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I just ate breakfast, drank a cold brew, and cried in my car for 20 minutes. Let’s kick this day in the ASS. 🥴🥳

#wooooo #im just a girl #expectations are too high

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nightxcreature · 22 days ago

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Felt.

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nightxcreature · 22 days ago

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what song is on repeat on your playlist right now?

Currently it’s been either Been A Long Time by Black Label Society, Walk by Pantera, or Coming Undone by Korn. I’ve been on a little bit of a metal kick lately.

#pantera #black label society #korn #zakk wylde

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nightxcreature · 22 days ago

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Thank you for the tag @justwhisperingfantasies and @chevroletdean 🫶🏼

10 Favorite TV Shows

Rules: Without naming them, post a gif from ten of your favorite television shows. Then tag 10 people to do the same!

No pressure tags: @hiighlighterr @masoena @occvltism @copperboom82 @godmadeaterribleerror @supernotnatural2005 @bowxs @honeyyxxbee @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @kazsrm67

10 Favorite TV Shows

Rules: Without naming them, post a gif from ten of your favorite television shows, then tag 10 people to do the same!

(no one tagged me but fuck it, I'm inflicting my basic tastes on y'all)

Rounding up the usual suspects-- @deans-spinster-witch @sam-is-my-safe-word @runawaydr3amerao3 @thoughtslikeaminefield @impala-dreamer and anyone else who wants to play.

#mooties ♡#tag games #supernatural #the magicians #the vampire diaries #naruto #hunter x hunter

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nightxcreature · 22 days ago

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is there a fic you *want* to write, but the words just wont come out to you?

Yes! I actually just talked to Whisper ( @justwhisperingfantasies ) about this the other day! I’m working on a piece for a bang right now that i’ve been writing since about March, but another idea hit me a few days ago that i think would be a better use for the bang. I just can’t get it on paper. 🤣

#creature features with night

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nightxcreature · 23 days ago

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what is your favorite fruit?

Watermelon and lemons! I also loooove an apple with a little salt. 🤤

#creature features with night

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nightxcreature · 24 days ago

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Whisper!!!! It looks so good!!!!

Just A Girl Spilling Her Fantasies On Tumblr. Hang Out, Have A Read, And Tell Me Your Favorite Parts <3

Please Do No Copy My Work And Post It Else Where Each Piece Has It's Own Rating, Character List, And Warnings Hearts, Reblogs, And Kind Feedback Is Always Appreciated

My Tag List

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nightxcreature · 26 days ago

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Thank you for this. These are giving me LIFE. 🤌🏼🔥

Greed

Lust Gluttony Envy Sloth Greed Pride Wrath

Summary: You're not his, so why does he want you all to himself?

Warnings: Smut, softdom!Dean, rough sex, edging.

[Asked to tag: @bitchykittenconnoisseur | @fertilise-me // Just reply/message for a tag!]

A month.

That's how long you'd been able to pretend to yourself that you'd didn't care. Every day you thought of Dean, only for a moment, picturing his smile, his laugh. And then you'd shake the thought away, trying to push it deep within you as you had since you'd first met him.

But after a month, you couldn't help it anymore. You wanted to see him, you couldn't wait until the usual accidental meeting, he was stuck on your mind like honey.

You'd gone to message him first, before realizing your mistake, trying to keep your desperation hidden from yourself more than anyone, and instead texting Sam, asking him if they needed any help anytime soon.

Whether or not he saw through your pretense, he replied quickly. Yes, they did need you- right now in fact- Dean had just been about to call. He sent you their location, only a couple of states away, and you had set off almost immediately, driving through the night.

By the time you'd arrived at their motel a new morning had broken, and you'd decided that- no, of course you weren't coming here for any extraneous purpose, if anything it was because you were horny and in need of a good lay, not because of any feeling's you definitely didn't have.

You took a deep breath before knocking at their motel room door. Dean answered, pulling you into a hug before you'd even looked up at him. He squeezed you tight, lifting your body off the ground only slightly as he breathed you in, feeling your warmth soak into him. After a moment he planted you back on the ground, pulling himself together as he looked down at you, trying to keep his face straight.

He kept his hand on your waist as he stepped back, welcoming you into the room. Sam looked up from his laptop at the small table, giving you a friendly wave as you smiled at him.

"You just couldn't stay away, could you?" Dean chuckled, not knowing the truth of his statement. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, a reminder that he'd driven a lot further, for a lot less from you.

You smiled over at them both, "Are we off out then?"

Dean rubbed his thumb against your hip, "No chance, sweetheart, you been driving all night?"

"Yeah, but I-"

"Then you need a couple hours sleep."

"Seriously I'm fine I feel-"

"Take my bed." He cut you off, no room for question.

You relented, the idea of a soft bed overwhelming every other thought. You let yourself drift off as the two men continued to work away, their conversation the backdrop to your nap.

By the time you woke up, late afternoon, Dean was next to you, typing away on his laptop that rested on his stretched out legs. You nestled yourself into him as you awoke, and he pulled his eyes away from the screen as he wrapped an arm around you. You keep your eyes closed, continuing the pretense of sleep as you breathed him in, the smell of cinnamon and motel soap, Dean.

After you'd decided you couldn't fake it any more you let your eyes flutter open, looking up at him as he lifted his arm off of you, both of you trying to seem unbothered by being so close.

"Afternoon, darlin'." He smiled back at you as he stood up, putting his laptop back on the table, Sam glancing over at you both.

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, adjusting to the room. Only a day ago you'd been sitting around, trying to keep your mind busy, and now you were here, with your favorite people, in another tiny motel.

You stood up, making your way over to the table and taking a seat, looking between them, "Okay, what's the plan?"

4 deaths within 3 weeks. All of them had been looking for a new home, and then turned up the next day as bodies, discarded without a thought. The only issue was you didn't know exactly which homes- the news only describing the areas but no exact locations.

Sam had arranged three meetings across three days with three different realtors. While you were asleep he'd planned them out, thankful you were there so you could pretend to be a new bride, a young married couple working better for the ruse.

By the time you all shuffled into the car, you were sorted for the afternoon, Sam trusting you knew the plan. He finally allowed himself to get the mind off the task at hand, looking back at you from the passenger seat, "You had a date right?"

You smiled, looking over at Dean driving, before looking back, "How did you know that?"

"Dean mentioned-" you saw Dean's jaw tighten, obviously this wasn't a conversation he'd expected his brother to spill, "-sorry I didn't mean to overstep."

"No, no, it's fine. Yeah, a couple of weeks ago."

"How did it go?"

"Fine." And it had been just that- fine. He was nice enough, self assured, stable job in finance, secure. Everything you were supposed to want out of a man. But you didn't want him. You couldn't shake the aching feeling of what you actually did want.

"He good- you know?" Dean dragged his eyes over your body in the mirror, raising an eyebrow, his question obvious.

"I don't sleep with men on the first date-"

He tried to hold back a laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting in surprise. He'd only known you two days before he'd had you in the back seat of the Impala, riding his cock with such passion and agility that for a moment he'd genuinely thought he'd seen god.

You rolled your eyes at his gesture, "Believe it or not, Winchester, when I'm back home I'm actually a bit of a prude."

He allowed himself to think while you got back to business with Sam. What were you like back home? Were others able to see what he did, your confidence, your certainty? You were bold, and fearless, and sexy in a way he could never get tired of. He thought about how you'd met, on a hunt, both of you chasing the same demon. Your hair had been plastered back with sweat and blood, a bruise on your lip you didn't seem to care about. What would you have had if not the hunting? If he'd have met you at a bar, would you have given him the time of day? Would you have gone out on a first date, kissing him nervously at the end of the night? He felt a sucker punch in his stomach that he wasn't able to quench.

"Are you going on a second one?" He cut through the conversation in the car, not realizing how long he'd been quiet. You looked up at him, confused, and he clarified his thought, "A second date?"

"I don't know, Dean." You looked up at him with a meak smile. You genuinely didn't. You wanted to tell him of course not, that you didn't care about anyone else, that a second date with another man was the furthest thing from your mind. But you also knew at some point you'd have to stop pining for the hunter you'll never be able to have- and if that meant a second date then so be it.

He kept his jaw tight. He felt the need to tell you to go for it, that he was encouraging you on, but he couldn't will himself to do it, couldn't even make himself to smile. Instead he stayed with his eyes on the road, not letting himself look back at you.

By the time you arrived at the first house, you felt a pit in your stomach. You didn't like there being tension between you and Dean. You'd so naturally fitted together from the first moment you met, that the idea of unspoken words felt wrong. But you also knew you couldn't say what you wanted to, for fear of making this unnatural situation truly nuclear.

You all made you way towards the house, you leading the way as you took a deep breath, letting your thoughts clear as you focused on the case. Sam had spoken it all through with you, and you felt prepared, as long as you could keep your mind off Dean.

A young woman opened the door as you approached, a fake smile of professionalism plastered on her face as she outstretched a hand to shake, "Are you here for the viewing?"

"Yes, pleased to meet you, I'm Y/N." You shook it.

"Ah yes, I do love newly weds, who here's your husband?"

You looked back at the brothers. Of course the plan had been Dean, from the beginning it had been Dean. But you suddenly felt sick, your face going white, at the thought of trying to fake this with him. You looked at them, both of them looking back at you. You couldn't understand why he wasn't stepping forward, wasn't introducing himself, wasn't able to call himself your husband.

You reached out, grabbing Sam's hand as both men looked at each other confused for a moment, their eyes going wide as you pulled him towards you, "This is Sam, we just got married."

You looked back towards Dean, trying to straighten out his expression as he looked between you and his brother, your hands entangling together, "And that's Dean, he's our... Friend."

Sam looked down at you, pulling his face back into control, desperation still clear in his eyes. You smiled up at him, and as the woman turned back away, mouthed your best sorry, creasing your forehead in apology.

He sighed but smiled back, holding your hand tighter as he whispered, "Your hands are clammy."

You rolled your eyes, "Thanks."

He chuckled lightly. Both of you knew this felt odd, there was no doubt about it, but at least you also knew he was your friend, and he wasn't going to fuck up a hunt easily.

As you entered the first room of the house, you let Sam lead the questions, probing the woman as much as he could. You sunk into the routine of doting wife, holding his hand tight, a wide smile spread across your face.

Dean watched you both carefully, jealousy burning behind his ears. He knew Sam wouldn't try anything, he never would, but he couldn't shake the feeling from eating him up. The thought of you with another man made him queazy, and before he knew what was happening he could only picture you on your date. He pictured you leaning across the table, holding his hand, laughing at his jokes. He balled his fist up to his side, instinctively flexing his hand to try and keep his emotions in check.

Sam glanced over at him, and then back to you, leaning down when he knew his cover wouldn't be blown to whisper in your ear, quiet enough that no one else could hear, "You trying to make Dean jealous on purpose?"

You were taken aback, "No-I-"

"Because if you are, it's working." You looked over to Dean, who was watching you both with a dark expression.

Sam chuckled. He had been tortured by Dean's disguised pining for months. Of course Dean wasn't admitting anything to him, but any time your name was raised he'd become infatuated, his face lighting up as he droned on about you. The second Sam had mentioned that maybe a married couple would work better for the case, Dean had thought of you, only stopping himself from phoning to hide his desperation. It was driving Sam crazy, just waiting for his brother to admit it, and he decided it was finally time to get his own back. "Why don't we give him something to really be jealous about?"

He wrapped his arm around your waist, the way he'd seen Dean do dozens of times, pulling you closer to him. You both felt too stiff, too dubious, but to any other person it looked natural, his arm around you, your own hand snaking up to rest on his chest, the perfect married couple.

You continued to look around the house, and you could tell Sam thought this was a lost cause, just a normal realtor and just a normal house. But he continued up the act, if nothing else because he could see his brothers eyes boring into you both as you continued your tour.

Once you neared the end he let his hand fall down, watching your face carefully for confirmation. You smiled up at him, trying not to laugh, and gave him a small nod. He placed his hand on your ass, sucking in his cheeks to stave off his own laugh, and looking back up at the woman before him, nodding like he was actually listening.

You looked over to Dean slowly, trying to keep your movements hidden. His eyebrows were creased, his hands crossed against his chest, eyes staring at your ass, and now, Sam's hand. His jaw tensed as he got lost in thought, refusing to break his gaze.

You could hear the conversation wrapping up, turning your attention back to Sam as he smiled back down at you, "You know, I just had one more question about the kitchen, you mind showing me?" He untangled himself from you, shooting you a wink before leaving the room with the woman.

Dean's hands were on you before you even saw him move, roughly pushing you against the wall, gripping your waist tight. His eyes darted over your face, jaw still clamped shut.

You brought you hand up to his chest and he pushed you away, using one hand to hold your wrist against your side tight. "What the hell was that?"

"Dean it's just a case I-"

"My brother?" He wasn't letting up.

You pulled your wrist from his grasp, resting it back on his chest, "Come on, Dean, this really isn't a big deal."

"First it's some guy back home you won't tell us anything about and now it's my own brother?"

You swallowed hard, you could tell he was being serious, even if he knew deep down there was nothing to worry about.

You smoothed your hand over his chest, keeping yourself calm, "There isn't some guy back home, it was one date Dean. What does it matter to you anyway?"

"I-" He swallowed hard, his eyes darting over your face, "-It doesn't... I just-"

He couldn't form the words. You looked up at him confused, seeing him more flustered than you ever had before. He finally relented, his own hand coming down to grab your ass.

"It's not fair you getting up close to him like that," he pouted out his lip. You relaxed your hand onto his chest as his face softened, a glint forming in his eye, "Especially coz you look so fuckin' hot right now."

He pushed his body closer to you as he crashed his lips into your own, tension dissolving off of him as you responded, your own hand combing through his hair. He broke apart for only a moment to look back down at you, a grin forming at the sides of his mouth, "You wanna get out of here?"

"Sam needs-"

"Sam knew exactly what he was doing. Besides, sweetheart, there's nothing here- We can all see that!"

You nodded, biting your lip as you smiled back. He pulled you towards him for another messy kiss as you started to move, both of you tangled together in hands and lips.

You glided past the kitchen, breaking away only slightly, Dean's lips still ghosting your neck from behind as he pushed you through the building. He looked up at his brother, "Don't wait up, Sammy!" And you giggled at his tone.

Sam looked over at the realtor, who's face contorted in twisted confusion. Sam sighed, looking over at you both leaving, "He's a really, really good friend."

You were by the Impala before you'd had a moment to think, reaching out to the handle of the back seats as you had dozens of times before. Dean stopped you, kissing your jaw again messily as he guided you towards the passenger side, "I need a bed for what I wanna do to you-"

You broke apart as he climbed behind the wheel, setting off at a speed you'd never get away with if you got stopped. He kept his eyes on the road as he reached out to you, pulling you closer towards him, his hands already fumbling with the fly of your pants. You glanced over to him, watching his expression carefully as he edged the tips of his fingers down towards your underwear.

"Color?" He glanced over to you before looking back at the road.

You had used the color system before, usually only after a rough hunt when you both needed to take the edge off. It helped that his coping mechanism meant seeking control while yours meant loosing it, your roughest sex coming when both of you needed that release. It wasn't normal to use it without a reason, and your stomach flooded with arousal at the thought.

"Green."

Without hesitation he pushed his fingers below your waistband of your pants, gliding over the fabric of your underwear. He pressed his fingers against your clit and you let out a needy moan. He kept his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel, as he began to circle your bundle of nerves, your whole body unraveling at the feeling.

He sped up his driving as you reached out to his arm, holding onto it as he moved against you. He pushed your underwear to one side, slipping a finger below and gently pushing it inside you as you moaned into him.

He chuckled lightly, "Damn sweetheart, you're fucking soaked." Then he turned his face darker, eyes still on the road, "That all for Sammy?"

You shook your head, biting your lip as he began to thrust into you.

"Come on, use your words, who's it for?"

"Fuck- Dean- it's for you! Jesus-"

He shot you a wicked smile, pulling his fingers back out, leaving you needy for more, "Damn straight."

You sighed against the seat, already feeling desperate for him. You reached out a hand to his leg, trailing it up his inner thigh, desperate to touch him.

He clenched his jaw, looking down at your hand, "You better be fuckin' careful here, sweetheart."

You began to gently palm his bulge, which was growing harder with every touch. He gripped the steering wheel harder as he watched you move, trying not to smirk.

Dean enjoyed sex with you. He always enjoyed sex with you. He liked knowing you were game for whatever he had going on. When he needed to be tougher, needed to let out his feelings in a possibly very unhealthy way, you were there, being just as toxic as him. And when he felt softer, when he wanted sex filled with giggles and mistakes and softness, you were the only one he truly felt safe being that vulnerable with. But tonight he knew he only wanted one thing- you.

You to be his.

By the time you got back to the motel, he could feel his cock straining rock hard against his jeans. You weren't fairing any better, the needy pooling between your legs becoming the only thing you could focus on. You practically dragged each other out of the car, lips heavy on each other, his hands reaching down to pull off your shirt before you'd even made it in the room. You both stumbled in, your hands flowing over his body, his mouth finding your neck.

He broke away from you, looking down at you with a stern face, his voice breathy, "Clothes, off."

You didn't question him, pulling at your clothes as he watched. You'd put on shows for him before, a tease of skin and underwear, but you could tell from his tone that's not what he wanted, stripping off as quickly as you could. You stood before him, only in your underwear, as he stayed fully clothed, still watching. He looked up to your neck, your necklace still hanging off of it, the star flat against your skin.

He walked towards you again, spinning you around so you were facing away from him. He dragged a finger down your spine slowly, sending shivers through you, before reaching back up to the clasp on your bra, and undoing it in one easy movement. You let it fall down your arms and onto the floor in front of you. He reached a hand around, letting in glide down your collarbone, past your pendant, and onto your breast, were he gently ghosted over your nipple. You felt your legs going weaker at the soft touch, but held firm, pressing yourself lightly against his body behind you.

He moved back again, not giving you any stability as he reached down to your panties, hooking his thumbs around the sides and dragging them down your legs. Once again you felt them fall to the floor, kicking them off your ankles as he looked at your ass, giving it a small sharp slap that made you shiver.

"On the bed, darling'."

You moved towards the bed, turning back towards him as you did, looking him up and down, desperate to get him unclothed. You held his hand, and he didn't stop you, as you backed up towards the bed, pulling him towards you. He followed your movements, gently guiding you down as he stayed standing before you.

"You know, I'm not much of a jealous person - but that wasn't very polite, sweetheart, parading around with my brother like that."

"Dean, I wasn't-"

"Nah-ah. You knew exactly what you were doing. Innocent look on your face like you didn't know better."

You pouted out your bottom lip. Sure you hadn't meant to make him jealous, not to begin with, but it was certainly fun knowing he was. He just shook his head with a knowing smirk.

He took another moment to look at you, relaxed on the bed, before he knelt down at the end of it, hooking his arms around your legs and pulling you towards him. You gasped as he kissed up your inner thigh, desperate and needy, your hand instantly flying to the back of his head, trying to pull him closer.

"Dean- please-"

"You're not in a position to be making requests, sweetheart, I wanna take my time."

He kissed you slowly, light lazy kisses strewn up your skin. He pressed his fingertip to the entrance of your pussy, watching as you tried to grind against him. He pushed into you slowly, only slightly, enough for you to feel him but not enough to fulfill any pleasure, and then moved his hand away again with a sly smile.

Once again he moved his finger up, gently gliding it through your soaked folds towards your clit, where he gently guided himself around it, only just brushing against it. You let out a desperate whine, need consuming you. He leant down, slowly pushing his tongue against your clit, pinching it slightly between his fingers as he rippled his tongue against you.

You felt your legs tense up instantly at the sensation, trying to keep your breathing steady as he continued touching you slowly. You pushed your hips up only slightly, trying to get a firmer touch, but he kept at a distance, keeping you on the edge of pleasure.

He continued to circle your clit with his tongue as he dragged his fingers back down, carefully pushing two into you, filling you up as he groaned against you. The vibrations sent arousal flooding through you as you moved your hips in time with his fingers.

He quickened the pace, your pleasure only growing with every thrust of his fingers, your body bending below him. You let out a gaspy moan, the ache of desperation growing greater, his tongue rapid against your clit.

You gripped the sheets beside you as you felt the tension growing inside you, your back arching off the bed, your body convulsing under him as you felt yourself about to break. You let out a desperate moan, calling out to him.

And then he pulled back again, pulling his fingers and mouth away in a single move. You gasped into the quiet room, pushing your hips back up, trying to find his touch. He kissed at your inner thigh lazily as you struggled below him, your body bucking at the need for stimulation.

He let out a low tsk, shaking his head gently, "You're gonna have to earn it, sweetheart."

Dean loved nothing more than making you come for him, your body crashing down around him, every sense on edge as you grinded against his fingers or tongue or cock. He was just as desperate for it now, but knew to hold off, knew that eventually he was gonna give you the best high of your life- if you'd let him.

You crashed your head back into the pillows behind you, letting out an exasperated sigh, "Dean- please -"

He looked up at you, serious and him again, only for a moment, "Color?"

You sighed again, looking back down at him with a small smile, "Green."

And then it was back, that dark hunger on his face, as he began to kiss your leg again, "Good."

He pushed his mouth against you again gently, feeling the aftershocks of your last desperate attempt to orgasm still pulsing against his tongue. He pushed his tongue deep into you, savouring your taste, his whole face pressed against you, nose just rubbing against your clit, enough that you felt your climax begin to return in your core.

He pulled his mouth away again, replacing them with his hand, two fingers pushed inside of you, his thumb returning to circling your clit gently. You gripped the sheets next to you, trying to keep your head straight.

"Jesus look at you, darlin', can't fuckin' control yourself, can you?"

"Dean- please-"

"Beggin' ain't gonna work. I want you to know what I can do to you."

"Dean- fuck- you feel so good-"

"That's more like it, sweetheart, keep going like that and you might get a prize."

"Please, your mouth- I need your tongue." You were becoming unraveled, your eyes rolling back as you looked desperately towards your orgasm.

He replaced his thumb with his tongue again, darting over your clit as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to tighten. The pace of his fingers increased once again, and you pushed your head back, looking up at the old motel ceiling. You rolled your hips against him, your whole body on edge as you felt yourself begin to break.

And then he pulled away again. You let out a loud groan, trying to push your thighs together to continue your pleasure as he gently held them open, kissing at the area around you knee. In your desperation you tried to push him away, only slightly, and his grip on your legs tightened, looking back up at you with a grim smile.

"Hurts me as much as it hurts you- I'd love nothing more than to make you come, but you're not making this easy..."

"Please- fuck- I'll do anything!"

He gently pushed one finger back into you. You needed more, your body trying to grind against him as he kept your legs still. He pushed in with languid movements, quick enough to keep you right on the edge of your explosion, but refusing to give you what you really wanted.

"Tell me, sweetheart-" he kissed your inner thigh again, slowly working his way up, the tiny stubble at his jaw rough against your sensitive skin, "-who's the only one who can make you feel like this?"

"You, Dean! God it's always you!"

He added another finger, still slow enough to keep you teetering, but finally filling you out. "And tell me, darlin', who can make you come harder than anyone else?"

"Fuck- Dean- No one makes me feel like you do!"

"So what do you want?"

"You- jesus- please baby I need you!"

Trust your overstimulation to send the nickname out. Dean let his face break for a moment, a smooth smile washing over him, before he turned back quick enough you didn't even noticed anything had happened.

"God you're fucking desperate... Filthy as sin, aren't you?" He pushed his tongue against your swollen clit again, only lightly, as you tried to grind against him.

Then he pulled away again, smiling up at you, "Color?"

"Green- but fuck Dean I need to come-"

He pulled his fingers out of you, pushing them into his own mouth as he swallowed down your taste, savouring every part of it. He took another look at you sprawled out before him before standing up, his jaw tensing hard.

"Touch yourself-" He reached for the back of his shirt, "-but don't let yourself come."

You pushed your fingers between your legs quickly, desperate for the stimulation you'd been missing as you began to rub your clit, waves of pleasure flowing through you. You looked back to Dean, pulling his shirt off in an easy move, his chest solid, abdomen tight. You bit your lip to hold back a moan, the pleasure rising quickly within you.

He began to unbuckle his pants and you quickly moved your hands away from your desperate clit, knowing you had no chance to stave off your orgasm once he was completely on show. You moved your fingers down lower, pushing them inside you messily, trying to keep your mind awake as you began to fall into pleasure again.

He pulled his pants down his legs and it took everything in you not to reach out, kneel below him, pull his boxers off yourself. You looked over to him, pumping your fingers into yourself quicker and quicker, your eyes wide as you looked up at him.

He teased you, a grin spread across his face, as he held his cock through his boxers, the hard outline clear, a small patch of precum soaking through the fabric. "You want this?"

You pushed your fingers in deeper, wetting your lips instinctively as you looked at his boxers, "Please-"

"Where do you want me?"

"Fuck me Dean- please- I need you so fuckin' bad-"

He pulled his boxers down his legs and you let out another moan, looking away from him to stop yourself from becoming too overwhelmed. You slowed your own fingers, edging yourself as Dean looked you over, a low groan stuck in his throat at the sight.

Before you could hear him move you felt his hands at your waist, lightly moving you as you turned to look back at him, just the look of his body almost making you come. He pulled you on top of him as he moved to lay down below you, sitting you on his stomach, your body still gently rocking against him for stimulation. He chuckled lightly, reaching down to your hips to stop your movements, keeping you steady.

He lifted you only slightly, positioning you above his stiff cock, but not letting you sink down. He pushed you slowly until his tip was only just in your entrance, and you arched your back, reaching your hands down to his legs behind you, letting him see you stretched out on top of him as you sucked in a ragged breath.

You tried to push down further, leaning forward again and resting your hands on his stomach, but he wouldn't let you, only lowering you half an inch as your eyes rolled back, your desperation obviously.

"Please- Dean- god-"

"You can't even speak- too fuckin' horny to even beg- look at you!" He lowered you down another half an inch, trying to hide his own desperation.

"I'm serious- god I need you-"

Another inch.

"Tell me who's cock you need, sweetheart, tell me who you want, tell me who fuckin' owns you."

Another inch.

"You- you baby please-"

He pulled your hips down hard, his cock filling you up, stretching you out as you let out a desperate moan for him, your fingernails digging into his abdomen as you began to rock your hips.

He let you set the speed, his hands resting at your hips as you began to grind into him, pulling all the strength you could into your kneeling legs as you tried to pull yourself back to the brink as quickly as possible. You let out a needy moan, your whole body aching with desire.

Dean's face grew hungrier as he watched you, having to hold off his own orgasm in the desperate need to give you your own. He watched as your lips parted, moaning breaths escaping your lips on every thrust. He felt himself fill you, feeling like he was breaking you in two by how hard you were driving down on him.

"Look at you, such a slut, getting fucked while you've got another guy waiting for you at home. Won't even let him touch you yet here you are bouncing on my dick like it's your salvation."

It was a low blow, one that you'd have chewed him out for in any other situation, but right now you were too drunk on pleasure to care, letting a loud moan escape your lips, pulling your head back as you sucked in another breath.

He watched your throat as you swallowed hard. He could feel your pussy clenching around his cock, your body on the precipice of shattering. He grabbed your hips hard, digging his fingers into your skin, as he began to thrust his own hips against you, keeping you steady as you felt his full cock pounding into you from below.

"Dean- Please-"

"That's it, that's a good girl, feel so fucking good, just keep yourself there for me, just keep yourself at the edge for a little bit longer."

You closed your eyes, your vision going white as you tried to hold yourself past the point of annihilation, his fingers digging into you harder, ready to snap with your rapture.

"Baby- I-" your mind dissolved, unable to form a single coherent thought, your whole body feeling stuck in your throat as you tried to get words out.

"Fuck, sweetheart, that's it- you wanna come? You feel it? So fucking desperate for it?" He pounded into you faster, his own orgasm tightening in his stomach, "Come for me baby, let me fuckin' feel you."

You let your whole body collapse as he continued to move into you, stars dancing behind your eyes as you felt ecstasy filling every nerve in your body. You went to reach down to him, needing to steady yourself, but instead your body felt like it was floating, no thoughts but your own euphoria. A moment later you felt his cum spilling into you, his rhythm unchanged as he came, his grip on you tightening, a ragged groan kicking from his throat.

He pushed you both through your orgasm, your desperate sounds and hot breath filling the room as you both started to come down from your high. His movements slowed, only slightly, as he loosened the grip on your hips, his body pressing back against the bed again, the feeling of you still on his cock almost too much. But he let you come back into focus again, still lazily grinding against you as you blinked hard, trying to steady yourself back into the room.

He carefully pulled you off of his dick, resting you on his thighs as he sat back up again, your legs wrapping around his hips. He pressed his forehead against yours, both of you breathing in each others torn breaths, your skin hot and slick against each other. He pulled you into a hug, your body going slack as you wrapped your arms around his neck, both of you sitting for a moment, allowing your bodies to become one.

After he felt like the strength had finally returned you his body, he stood up carefully, keeping you wrapped around him, your head nestling into the crook of his neck as he lifted you. He made his way to the bathroom, where you heard the shower turn on. You pulled your head back up, blinking hard to adjust to the yellow fluorescents, and to your own senses coming back to you.

"You think you can stand on your own, sweetheart?" All toughness was gone now, his voice gentle as he pressed his mouth into your hair, kissing you lightly.

You nodded, unwrapping your legs from his waist as he carefully lowered you to the floor, keeping his hands wrapped around you as you steadied yourself.

Without a word he guided you into the shower, the cool water cleansing your skin, waking you back up to reality. He stepped in behind you, pressing his body against you as water poured down on you both. He gently began guiding the water over you, his hands flowing over your body, delicate touches as though he was afraid of breaking you. He leant down, the water crashing into his head as he pushed his hand between your legs, ever so carefully splashing the cool liquid against your sensitive flesh. You sucked in a breath at the sensation, trying to keep yourself steady as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He kissed your skin lightly, trying to keep you with him.

"I'm okay." You breathed steadily as he pushed his hand up, letting more cold water flow between the two of you, washing you clean.

He stood back up, kissing your forehead lightly and then scrubbing down his own body quickly, trying to wick away the sweat and smell of sex that clung to him. He looked down at you, your body gorgeous, glistening with droplets of water, and then had to turn away again for fear of his cock hardening again.

"I'm only gonna be a minute."

You nodded, welcoming a moment to yourself, your thoughts finally coming back to you as he slipped out of the bathroom, patting himself down with a towel. All you could ever think about was Dean. His arms, his legs, his smile, his laugh. And what made it worse was that he was the best damn lay you'd ever had in your life.

After a moment he was back again, a new pair of boxers covering him, more clothes in hand. He shut the water off as you climbed out, wrapping a towel around you in an instant to warm you back up.

You watched as his eyes flowed over your body. He knelt down in front of you, his thumb brushing lightly over the new red bruising that was starting to form at your hips where he'd pushed his fingers into you. "You feel okay, darlin'?"

You took in a deep breath, awestruck by the image of him on his knees before you, "Better than okay, that was incredible Dean."

He laughed hesitantly, kissing your hips, the new bruises, by way of an apology, and then standing back up to look at you. He passed you a bundle of clothes, a pair of his boxers and an old shirt, both of which you slipped on without thinking, the smell and feel of him surrounding you.

He guided you back to the bed, laying you down as he came to rest beside you, wrapping your bodies around each other. He breathed you in deeply, the feeling of your chest rising and falling as you began to drift off, too exhausted to do anything else.

He brushed his thumb against your hip gently, lightly massaging your bruises as he took a moment to really look at you. You looked so vulnerable when you were resting, so perfect in his clothes, he had to swallow hard to bring his thoughts back to reality.

He'd had you. For one night he'd had you as completely his. He wanted you for more, he wanted you every single day, but as he looked at you, your eyes closed, softly humming against his touch, he knew he didn't deserve that. Didn't deserve you.

He kissed your forehead gently, pulling you in closer to him, as he spoke with a tight jaw, "I think you should go on that second date."

#reblog the things you enjoy

776 notes · View notes

nightxcreature · 27 days ago

Text

I screamed and I cried. I creamed??? 😜🤣🤣🤣

This was so good and so angsty and so smutty and so fluffy. P E R F E C T. 🫡🥰

It's Between the Words

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, fluff, friends to lovers, light angst, love confessions, lotta smut (fingering, body worship, oral f!receiving, p in v sex)

Summary/Warnings: One sided love hurts. Burns. Eats you alive. But it might not be one sided. It might just be hard for Dean to say he loves you back.

Author's Note: Emotionally Constipated men it's okay. I got you a laxative.

Word Count: 10.7k

“You got sauce on your nose.”

You frown at Dean, watching you oddly across the dinner table. “Huh?”

He taps the tip of his own nose, and you’ve never seen that expression on his face before. It’s oddly focused, for someone just telling you about stray bits of dinner. And his whole body is tensed, the same ways as when he’s hunting.

Like this is critical. Vital. People will die, if you don’t get the sauce off your nose.

You wipe with your napkin, mimicking where he’s pointing to. “Did I get it?”

“No.” He grunts, brows furrowing. “Here."

He taps the exact same spot, and you sigh. “Dean-“

Your words die in your throat as he leans over the table, holds your gaze, and swipes his thumb over the tip of your nose. It sends little bolts of lighting up your spine and burns in your lower stomach. He touched you. He’s touched you before, but now he’s touching your face, and the tiny point of contact between his thumb and your nose is going to be branded for the rest of your life. He sucks the bit of sauce clean as he leans back, and it’s not reasonable to tackle him over the table and scream that you love him. Also not reasonable to dump the rest of your dinner on your head and see if he’ll clean that too.

So you settle for clearing your throat and whispering, “Better?”

“Yeah.” Dean mutters, still watching you.

It truly is a strange expression. Brows pinched, tight-lipped, jaw clenched. You’d think he was angry, if you couldn’t see the softness in his eyes. They’re almost glossy, as if he’s going to start crying.

But before you can ask if he’s okay, the look vanishes, and his voice returns to normal.

“Better.”

———

It’s quiet tonight.

It’s quiet most nights, in the bunker. The days can be filled with chaos and shouting and loud bangs—followed by another shout, this one from the garage as Dean decides he’s okay and doesn’t let anyone check in to verify that—but then the day moves on, and the night is quiet.

Sometimes you’re home alone. Sam will pack up for a few days to visit Eileen for a few days, and the last loud noises are Dean teasing Sam about having a girlfriend, then the rumble of an engine as Sam pulls out of the garage. Dean then groans, gives you a strange look, then grumbles that he’s going out.

He never asks you to go with him. It’s a small mercy, but one that only turns bitter in the morning, when he returns with a mark on his neck and the smell of cheap perfume.

Those are the nights you hate the most. Sam has Eileen. Dean has anyone he wants, but he doesn’t want you, and you’re alone. You lie in the silence of the bunker alone, and try not grab your gun at every single creak down the hall, or start crying when the pain hits your just right. When the darkness of the night gets under your skin, and you don’t have anyone to help you chase it away.

You always wipe your tears before Dean comes home.

He doesn’t need to worry about more things. If you can love him in one, silent way, it’ll be never making him worry.

That’s why you love these types of quiet nights. There’s no pain or worry. At worst, all of you are tired, and energy is something you’ll need to save for the morning. Sam goes to do yoga—because he’s insane—and you and Dean watch a movie.

“Don’t eat the ice,” Dean mutters your name as you both move around the kitchen for snacks, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re not my dad, Winchester-“

“It always makes you cold-“

“And that’s my right as an American.”

Dean snorts. “Pretty sure we’re both enemies of the state, sweetheart.”

“So?” You stick your tongue out at him, then squeak as he tries to grab the glass from your hands. “Hey-“

“Calm down, I’m just giving you the maple syrup.” He holds up the bottle, and you eye him suspiciously. “C’mon, I’m not gonna try and take it from you-“

“Yeah, you are- Dean-“

He grabs you by the hook of your elbow, tugs you forward, and hold your gaze as he pours the syrup into your ice. Your lips are parted, and your knees are weak, and he’s not even really touching you. You need to get it the fuck together.

“Thanks.” You mumble, and he shrugs.

“Don’t.”

He shuffles off to the Dean Cave, and you sway uselessly for a second before scrambling after him. And when the movie starts, you try to pay attention to the screen instead of Dean’s thighs. But he always spreads his legs, tips his head back slightly, and throws his arm around the back of the couch.

It's not fair. He’s just there, and now you have to swallow and pull your knees to your chest.

“You cold?”

You blink at him in the dark, and Dean’s looking at you. He should be looking the TV. He’s always looking at the TV. You’d know.

You’re always looking at him.

“No.”

Dean frowns. “You look kinda cold, I can grab a blanket-“

“I’m not cold, Dean.” You force yourself to stop rubbing your calves. “Do you want a blanket?”

“Nah,” he gives you another odd stare. “I actually feel kinda hot. You sure you’re good? If you don’t feel well, we can go to bed-“

“I’m okay.” You cut him off with a voice that’s too soft, and you know he hears it.

But we.

He can’t say we can go to bed, when you know it’s just going to be you.

“I’m just tired.”

He shrugs, frown still tight on his handsome face. “Then we’ll finish in the morning-“

“No- Dean-“ You grab Dean’s wrist before he can take the remote, and he raises his brows.

“You’re tired, sweetheart. And it’s just Batman. You know what happens.”

“Not that kind of tired. I wanna finish.” You swallow, and give him a tiny, nervous smile. “Please.”

Dean lets go of the remote, leaning slowly back on the couch, and you must have gotten away with it. You love him, but he’s not the most emotionally perceptive, and there’s no way he’d be able to hear the desperation to be close to him—just for a few more minutes—painted all over your voice. He’s never heard it before. You’re probably safe-

“You sure you’re okay?” He mutters, his attention now fixed firmly back on the TV. “You’re kinda acting like I’m poison or something.”

Fuck.

Your eyes fall on the large gap between your bodies, an invisible barrier you set for your own sanity. It’s too much, to be close to him while doing something like this. It’s one thing to be pressed into a closet with him on a hunt, feeling his bulge near your ass and his body all around yours. That’s necessity.

This would just be sitting in the dark, glued to his side, with a million other places to go but no desire to be anywhere but here.

But he said it like a joke. With a dry, hollow chuckle that you know too well. You know Dean too well.

Love him too much.

So you put on your best, exasperated mask, and scoot closer. Until you’re not molded into his, but you’re leaning at little into his side. Your feet are brushing his thigh, as you keep them to your chest. You can feel the heat from his body. See every color in his eyes and all the shifting shadows from the TV, cast over his handsome face.

“Better?”

He rolls his eyes, but gives you a bright grin. “Yep. You want that blanket?”

You shake your head and he shrugs, looking back to the TV.

His throat is bobbing. Jawline firm. If you reached up, you’d be able to trace the shape of his lips.

And he’s not a dog. He won’t be able to smell the wetness forming between your legs, when he groans about something or his big, rough fingers accidentally brush your arm. He’s not going to taste arousal on the air when he scoots closer, and you can feel the heat from his body.

You always try to make yourself small anyway. There’s a fairly large part of you that knows, if you gave in and climbed into his lap, he’d let you. Kiss you like you’ve always dreamed, let you ride his muscled thigh until you were whining for more, then give it to you. Flip you over and fuck you into the couch.

Be the best of your life, then walk away.

You’d lose all your dignity and break your own heart—Dean can’t be breaking it, he doesn’t even know it’s in his hands, so you’d be the one taking a hammer and smashing it to tiny, fractured pieces—and then need to learn how to walk and breathe again. Because you will have to learn. Your legs don’t know how to move away from Dean, and your lungs don’t know how to breathe if it’s not air you’re sharing with him.

It will be a lot of work. Not impossible, but too much. You know yourself. You’ll love Dean until you’re in a grave unless you teach yourself not to. And you really don’t want to learn how to hate Dean. Don’t want to learn how to be indifferent to him, either.

You like loving him. It makes apples taste sweeter and water feel cooler. It’s a new kind of heaven, to be able to look at Dean and love him at the same time. He’s a force of nature.

So you stay at his side. And when you do start to get cold—eating ice will do that, but you always seem to think this time will be different for some fucking reason—you keep your gaze fixed firmly on the TV as you tuck your arms between your legs and try to keep yourself warm.

Then something warm wraps around your body. Soft and warm and-

A blanket.

Dean barely moved. He’s still looking at the TV. But the glass somehow moved from your hand to his, and now you’re tucked into a blanket.

He doesn’t say told you so.

When he feels your gaze, he turns and gives you a challenge look. Daring you to call him out on it.

You really don’t want to. It’s too good a selfish opportunity, to lean a little closer and let out a soft sigh when Dean fully moves his arm over your shoulder.

He’ll rip you apart, if you ask him nicely.

That’s not a burden you want to place on him. Certainly not one worth disrupting Sam’s yoga over.

The quiet falls again. Dean doesn’t say a word about the blanket, or ice, or how his hand is relaxed against the bare skin of your arm. But you don’t tell him that you feel like you’re on fire.

This is a silence you could live in. Drown in, if Dean let you.

Fuck, it doesn’t matter if he lets you.

You’re going to drown in him—even if he never gives you anything at all—no matter what.

———

It gets worse, after the blanket. It’s like he’s living in your head. Like he knows you well enough to never need to ask what you need, always seeming to pick up on it before you even can.

First there’s the diner. You go to the bathroom while they’re ordering, and when you come back Dean is gone.

“Where-“

“Got a call.” Sam shrugs, and you nod, frowning around the table.

“Did they take our menus?”

“Yeah, we ordered while you were gone. Don’t worry, Dean got yours.”

You swallow, give a weak nod, and focus your attention on the crayons and children’s placement they set at the table, despite none of you being kids. Sam starts to ramble about hunting ideas as you try to color in the black and white farm picture, looking up only when the diner doorbell rings, to check it it’s Dean.

Eventually, after a few disappointments you’re never going to admit make your stomach feel like a hollow pit—you’re a grown woman coloring like a child in a diner and talking about killing vampires, you don’t need Dean to come back—he reappears.

It’s like watching the sun climb over the horizon. Everything is brighter and warmer, when he walks back into your view. There’s a bubbly little high that rushes your body, when his eyes meet yours and he grins.

“Dean, I think there’s a nest in Nebraska-“

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean slides back into the booth, right at your side. “You like the crayons, sweetheart?”

You flush, your gaze dropping back to the placemat. “I- Um- Yeah. I know it’s for kids, I just-“

“Helps you focus.” He shrugs. “I know. ’S why I asked for them.”

You blink at him, at the soft, crooked grin and light in his eyes, and chew on your lower lip to stop it from crashing into his. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He bumps his shoulder with yours, then looks back to Sam. “Dude, I think we gotta drop the vampire thing-“

“It’s a nest, Dean, we can’t just ignore it-“

“There’s a demon problem in Mississippi.”

“Shit.” Sam sighs, frowning back to his laptop. “We can do that, then Nebraska?”

“Sure. That sound good?” Dean says your name, and you blink at him a little dumbly.

He can’t see it now. The love written all over your face. He’s never seen it before.

But something still flashes over his features, when you nod. He swallows, hand curling on the table.

“Awesome.” He grunts, almost tearing his gaze away, and whatever he and Sam keep talking about is lost to your ears.

Because the food is delivered only seconds later, and Dean ordered for you.

He got it all right.

His hand is lingering on your shoulder again, as he stretches his arm over the booth.

And it only gets worse from there.

Your leg starts to bounce in the car, and he pulls over so you can go to the bathroom. Your head starts to hurt after the demon hunt, and he passes you water and an Advil before you can even rub your temple. On the vamp hunt he’s always right around the corner, swinging his machete before teeth can even be bared in your direction.

You get the shower first, when you get back to the motel. Dean’s covered in more guts and grime, but he opens the bathroom door, and makes a dramatic, sweeping gesture with an almost sweet and boyish grin.

“Ladies first.”

Sam groans from across the room. “Wait, Dean, I smell like shit-“

“We all smell like shit.”

“Dude, I’m literally covered in literal shit-“

“So is she.” Dean snaps, and you sigh.

You are. Somehow, every fucking hunt on a farm always end in someone covered in shit. But Sam got the worst of it. He took a full topple into the pile. Dean caught you before you could join him, and it’s mostly on your shoes—which now have to be burned—and hands after you helped Sam to his feet.

“Dean, it’s alright.” You sigh, giving him a small smile. “Sam can go first.”

Dean stares at you for a second—not quite a glare, closer to that strange look from the kitchen—then grunts.

“Whatever. I’m gonna go find a drink.”

He leaves, looking back once with that same, odd expression, then vanishes out into the dark.

If he’s mad at you, you didn’t mean it. It’s just a shower. But the door slams, and you want him to come back, and if he’s drinking that means he’s looking for company. Company that’s not you.

It aches, all over your ribs.

But he doesn’t know.

So you’re not allowed to chase after him and beg him to come back.

“You think they’ll serve him covered in blood?” You ask Sam, gaze still trapped on the door like Dean might return.

“Dunno.” Sam sighs. “Thanks for letting me shower first. I’ll- Uh- I’ll be quick.”

You hum, and Dean doesn’t come back. When it’s your turn to shower, the water is warm, but your bones feel cold. You miss him. It’s been twenty minutes, and you miss him.

It’s been like that the entire time you’ve known him. You love him, and miss him, and he drifts in and out, never understanding that you’re trying to drag him up to shore. He doesn’t have to keep drifting. You’re right there. If he asked you to fall into the ocean with him, you’d go in a heartbeat. If he crawled out of the waves and told you he didn’t want to drift anymore, but didn’t know how to stop, you’d sit in the water with him until he was ready. You’re always waiting.

Even when he’s out, and it’s all quiet, you’re waiting for Dean to break the silence and tell you something. Anything.

You’re just waiting to hear his voice all the time. It doesn’t have to be I love you too.

Just something, telling you that this doesn’t end the way you know it’s doomed to. You in a silence that’s never going to be broken. Dean walking out a door and not coming back.

When you pass out , you somehow manage to sleep through the whole night without being woken up by Sam and Dean coming and going from the bar. And you expect him to not be there in the morning. This is the exact type of bloody hunt that usually ends with Dean chasing comfort at the bar, Sam going for a ten-mile run, and you sleeping for about twenty hours straight before you can make yourself move. He’ll be back later, and your heart will stutter in your chest with the pain that he didn’t want you to help him forget, then you’ll keep going, and say nothing.

You’ve gotten really good at choking on the sore feeling of not being the one Dean wants to help him, and saying nothing.

But when you wake up, Dean’s on the couch. Feet kicked up on the table, watching TV on low volume and glancing over his shoulder when you try to sit up.

“Shit-“ You groan. “What time is it?”

“Noon, sleeping beauty.” Dean almost appears in front of you, passing a coffee into your hands. “Sammy’s on a walk, he wanted to check out the park. They got a butterfly garden, if we wanna catch up.”

“I like butterflies.” You mumble, and Dean’s lips twitch.

“Yeah, I know. Eggs?”

“Wha-“

“You gotta eat,” he says your name with a shrug, and maybe it’s the lingering sleep, but you sort of feel like you’re floating. He’s not looking at you—attention focused on the coffee in your hands, like it’s the most important object in the world—but he is standing right over your body. Blocking the sun leaking through the blinds, mixing with the dust of the motel room to give him the appearance of a halo.

You could just still be dreaming. Dean offers you his hand to help you up, and when you take it, his grip is firm. Gentle, but firm.

It’s too easy to imagine that grip on your hips, or throat, or thighs. Spreading your legs apart for him to take whatever he needed from you, until you have nothing left to give.

“C’mon.” He keeps his hand in yours for a second too long, eyes darting back up to meet yours. “Breakfast.”

You nod, he moves his hand away, and you can’t chase it. You know how to walk alone.

But you don’t want to.

And when you walk to breakfast, Dean slows his pace to match yours. Like maybe he doesn’t want to either.

There’s a soft bird song in the air. The rush of morning wind past your ears. And when you trip on a crack in the pavement, Dean’s arm wraps around your waist, and he pulls your right up.

He stares at you for a moment. So close. Your heartbeat in your ears and his large hand settled easily on your hip.

You don’t tell him to move away. He doesn’t ask if he should let go.

The birds keep singing. The sun is soft, melting through morning fog, and he looks like he has a halo again.

Neither of you say a word.

Dean’s hand stays on your hips.

———

This is the kind of silence that kills. That sinks into things and erodes them, unless you scream and force it away.

But you don’t know how. You can’t be the one to break it. Dean’s the one that brought it into the car. The one who’s driving with a white-knuckled grip, who hauled you into the car once he was sure your stitches would hold, slammed the door without a word, and took off with only a glare through the rearview mirror. Your throat is too dry to speak, and he’d passed you a water, but he’d done that in silence as well. He’s not even turning on the radio to drown out your ragged breaths and the engine.

That’s how you know this is the horrible, poisonous kind of silence.

Dean’s fury is only still and quiet when it’s getting ready to burst. Like the air right before a storm. Electric and empty. Promising wreckage soon, but not now. Now is about the dread. Now is about watching Dean glare at the road, and trying to guess exactly what he’s going to say so you can keep your own footing when he explodes.

There are too many options. You don’t even know why he’s that mad. It wasn’t a good hunt, but it was far from the worst. You’d gotten hit, but you’d made it out. There was a deep gash in your stomach, but Dean treated it quickly. Picked you up with barely a grunt, carried out to the car, and laid you down on the hood without a word. You’d whined a little as he a pushed your shirt up and disinfected the wound, but he grumbles more when you’re just treating his knuckles. And you hadn’t even said anything. The silence had already started to settle, everything had been painting in pain, and all your focus had gone into focusing on Dean.

His hands, skimming over your sides and resting on your abdomen for better stitch work. His attention, focused entirely on you, splayed out below him. It had been far too easy to pretend you were there just to be touched. That his hands were promises of more, and he was scanning over you not to see if you needed the hospital, but because he was trying to work out where he wanted to start. If he was going to kiss you fully and deeply, latch his mouth onto your breasts, or kiss down your stomach and between your thighs.

So easy to pretend, when you couldn’t feel the silence choking you, too lost in warm hands on your hips and your heartbeat in your ears.

But now silence is all there is.

And it’s going to bury you alive.

He won’t even look at you, when he parks the Impala at the bunker. You get a stiff hand to guide you out of the car, but he’s staring right over your head.

It could not be about you. Maybe he’s just tired. He was out late last night, and he came back smelling like booze and flowers, and that was fine. Not your business what he does at night, even if he’d spent the whole day before grinning at you over diner tables and indulging in a long rant about your favorite book. Even if he’d held your hand, when you’d had a random breakdown only a night before.

Maybe that was it. Maybe you’d pushed the boundary of your friendship right up to the line, by crying in his arms.

But you’d been choking on the air, and hadn’t asked him to hold you. He just had. He’d fallen to his knees and tugged you into his arms, stroking his hand through your hair and keeping you folded gently into his chest.

“I- I’m sorry,” you’d whispered, still sniffing and clinging to his shirt like a child. “I’m just- ‘m tired, and I’m so- It feels so big.”

Dean had hummed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Big?”

“Yeah. All of it.” Your voice had dropped to barely a breath. “I- I don’t- It’s lonely. I’m alone.”

He’d pulled back, that odd expression back on his face. “You think you’re alone?”

You’d swallowed and nodded, and he’d sighed. Pressed a soft kiss to your brow, and pulled you a little closer to his chest. Another weak sob had torn through your body.

But he hadn’t let you sit in it.

Dean had muttered your name, his own voice filled with an odd strain you couldn’t quite place. “You’re not alone, you know. You got me.” He’d paused, then added, “and Sammy. We’re here.”

“Thanks.” You’d mumbled, and he’d let out a long, slow sigh.

“Course. I- I’m here. Whenever you need.”

You’d fallen asleep there. In his arms. And then neither of you had spoken about it, and he’d gone out the next night like you didn’t need him next to you all the time.

You did something wrong. You had to have done something wrong. Maybe it had been the breakdown. Maybe you’d stared at him a little too harshly, when he’d gotten back last night. You’d been able to taste your own bitterness, that someone else got to have him the way you dreamed about. It might have been tangible in the air, and now he was pissed at you for thinking you had any right over him or his heart.

You didn’t.

You just love him, too much to ask anything of him, but also too much to not hate him for doing this to you. Making you love him, then fucking off.

It could be something else. He passed you rubbing alcohol back at the house, to ease the pain of the stitches. Maybe you had said something. Maybe your head had been fuzzy, and Dean fingers had brushed the soft skin of your stomach, and you’d moaned. Maybe you’d been thinking about him touching you aloud. Maybe you’d done something without remembering, and now he was never going to look at you again-

“Woah.” Sam shoots to his feet as Dean half-carries you inside—why is he still helping you when he’s never going to look at you again—and gapes between you. “What the hell happened? I thought it was just a salt and burn-“

“It was.” You mutter, wincing as you start down the stairs, and a new, white-hot pain shoots through your body. “Strong ghost.”

“Are you-“

“I’m fine.” You give Sam a tight smile. “Nothing bad.”

Dean tenses around you, but still doesn’t speak.

Sam notices. Of course he does. He knows, just as well as you, that Dean’s never this quiet. “You alright, Dean?”

He grunts, settling you down into one of the chairs, and Sam raises his brows at you. All you can do is shrug in return. But the motion makes spots cloud in your vision, and a high moan of pain escapes your throat.

Dean shoots you a tight look, and when you try to stand up, he crowds over your body and glares down at you.

Sam clears his throat. “Dean-“

“I told you to wait for me.”

You blink up at him, blocking almost all the light. He looks more like a shadow than a man right now, and you shouldn’t want him to come closer. To maybe drop over you and smother your body. His body is broad enough to take up your whole vision, and it’s all tensed muscle and a handsome glower, searing right over your skin and making the air almost hum.

This is the hunter monsters and demons fear, not the man who watches cartoon and movies with you, bringing you ice and wrapping you in soft blankets when you get cold.

Really, truly angry.

With you.

“What?” You blink at him, trying not to feel dizzy—for the pain or his attention, you’re not sure—and his nostrils flare.

“I said wait.” His words are pushed through his teeth, fist clenched at his side. “You told me you’d fuckin’ wait until I got off the phone to go inside.”

“I- I did-“

“No, you didn’t.”

“Dean, I-“

“You have to fucking listen to me.” His voice is rising, gaze narrowing, and you might start crying again. “When I tell you do something on a hunt, you goddamn do it-“

“I did do it!” You scream, but your voice is too high. Too weak. “You hung up! It’s not my fault you started fucking texting someone and didn’t follow me into the house-“

“I followed you! I always follow you-“

“Then why weren’t you there, Dean?” You hiss, and you can’t control it. He can’t just hold you one night, fuck off the next, then act like he cares when you know he was texting someone else. You did the job. And you did it alone, with nothing but creaking stairs and the wind. He doesn’t get to be pissed at you for that. He fucking doesn’t.

And he’s gone still again, his gaze almost predatory. He can’t bite back. It’ll hurt you a lot more than anything you could do to him.

“I went in after you hung up.” You snap, all the fight already starting to drain from your body. “You don’t get to be pissed about that when you’re the one who wasn’t paying attention.”

His jaw ticks, his voice dropping to something low. Dangerous. “You think I wasn’t paying attention?”

Sam clears his throat from the background. “Guys, maybe now isn’t the best time to-“

“You weren’t there.” You mutter, ignoring Sam, and Dean’s lips curl.

“You weren’t there.” He sneers. “I looked up, you were gone, and when I find you again, you’re bleeding out on the fucking floor because you couldn’t listen-“

“So? I got the ghost-“

“You got hurt!”

He’s shouting again. You don’t have it in you to shout back—your head is starting to swim, and if you try, the sting in your eyes will overflow and you’ll fall apart—so you just sigh, and give him a tired look.

“It happens, Dean. You get hurt all the time.”

“That’s different.”

“Why? Because you’re a big man? Because chicks dig scars?”

He scowls, grunting your name, but you push on.

“At least they didn’t get my face, right? Nobody would want me if I got a big scar on my face. God, I’d be useless, wouldn’t I? I mean, it’s not like anyone wants me now-“

Dean’s face flashes with that odd expression again, and you’re going to cry again. You can feel it coming. Hear it in your voice, tight from the lump in your throat.

“Who could want a girl hunter, Dean? I should just follow your every order, shouldn’t I? It’s not like I can hunt alone. Go off alone. Go anywhere without you telling me what to do then dropping me the moment something better comes along? Right? You just want your fucking lapdog?”

Dean takes a step back, like he’s been hit. Just staring at you. And Sam’s frozen somewhere in the background, looking between you with wide eyes, and you can’t do this. Can’t cry in front on both of them. Not when you’re already so tired.

You push up on shaking feet, and Dean lurches slightly. Takes a stuttering step forward, then freezes as you level him with a glare.

“I’m going to bed.” You tell the air, not really caring if they hear.

Neither of them say anything. Dean doesn’t try to grab you, or chase after you to argue more.

You wish he would.

But the silence follows you down the hall, broken only by your door slamming behind you, and the sound of your own fractured sobs as you fall into the bed, alone.

———

“Don’t.”

Sammy sighed from somewhere behind Dean, and when he turned, the kid had his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say anything, Dean-“

“You were gonna.” He grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t wanna hear it. I know.”

Sam raised his brows. “Do you?”

“Sam-“

“No, Dean. Tell me what you think I was gonna say.”

Dean scowled. “That it’s my own damn fault she’s pissed at me.”

“And?”

“Shut your face-“

“Why?” Sam didn’t waver, and he was asking to get punched. “What else is there? I mean, if it’s your fault, that should be it, right?”

Dean’s scowl deepened. “I don’t know what they hell you’re trying to say-“

“Don’t you?”

A heavy lump was forming in Dean’s throat. He couldn’t do this not now.

Not when he could still hear Her words, ringing his ears with every moment of silence.

Not like anyone wants me now.

Dean wanted Her.

More than anything.

He could feel it in his chest, with how it glowed and swelled with light whenever She smiled at him. He could feel it over his skin, with how every other touch felt sickening when it wasn’t Her hands. It turned in his stomach when he kissed another woman, and told himself it was for the best.

She deserved better. Everyone deserved better than Dean, but She more than anyone else.

Sometimes, Dean would lean over a bar counter, and dream about Her getting out. Having that apple pie life with some normal, boring asshole who’d never let Her put herself into harms way, who’d know exactly what to do when She cried in his arms, who’d know how to say it.

The thing.

He’s tried to tell Her, all the time. That when he walked, it was always because he was trying to march in some time to Her heartbeat. He cleared Her plates because he was there for Her. He paid attention to Her, knew Her, and tried to make her feel it like that.

But he couldn’t even think it. That within itself felt like a curse. If he thought it, some angel or monster would hear and try to take Her away. And it wasn’t denial. He knew. Dean damn well knew why it lived behind his eyes, when he fucked some random chick and moaned the wrong name. Why there had been a broiling, cold, consuming wrath in his muscles, when he’d seen Her bleeding on the floor. Why part of him was shattered on the floor when She called Herself his lapdog.

He was Her lapdog. He was the one who followed and waited for Her. Who, if She ever left him, would stare at door and wait at the foot of Her bed until she came back.

And he’d fucked this. All on his own. He shouldn’t have been pissed, but She was right. He hadn’t been there. He’d gotten distracted trying to dismiss the girl from last night, because she didn’t get the one-night thing, and wasn’t deterred by Dean’s eyes been closed the whole time—even as he’d fucked her from behind—and the way he knew he’d groaned Her name when he came.

Then She’d gotten hurt. Dean couldn’t afford to have Her hurt. He wasn’t worth much, but he knew how to be a shield. How to stand in the line of fire.

And She’d still gotten hurt.

“You should talk to her-“

“No.” Dean grunted, ignoring Sam entirely. “She’ll get over it.”

She would. She was strong, and resilient, and-

Alone.

Her voice echoed in his again, right between the echoes of his steps in the hall. And he could see it. Her face flushed, cheeks shining with tears. He could feel Her in his arms, warm and soft and curved so damn well against his chest. She’d smelled like flowers.

Sounds so fucking sad, when She’d said she was alone.

Dean flopped down on his own bed, and stared at the ceiling. If he closed his eyes, he’d see the pale expression on Her face, and he just wanted to goddamn sleep. To wake up and be back at yesterday. He’d ignore the texts this time. She’d be safe, and—bonus—they wouldn’t be fighting.

But he kept hearing it.

Soft sobs that sounded an awful lot like Her’s. And he might be imagining them, but Her eyes and been glossy and Her voice had been strained.

Alone.

Dean was more alone than She was. She could have him however She wanted, but he had to settle for placeholders that never fit Her shape.

He couldn’t sleep.

He kept seeing Her face. Hearing Her voice.

A drink.

A drink would help.

Dean shuffled down the hall, trying to keep as silent as possible—She needed the sleep, and he didn’t need another lecture from Sammy—and found the liquor cabinet already hanging open.

There was a whole bottle of vodka missing.

Son of a bitch.

He didn’t run. He wasn’t so pathetic as to sprint to Her room. But he did walk fast. She shouldn’t be drinking with fresh stitches, it would thin Her damn blood and make her recovery worse. He’d only given Her a little bit to ease the pain before, and it had barely taken a sip to make Her head loll back, eyes flutter, and body turn to putty below him.

And Dean wasn’t a good man. He’d taken in the sight of Her—shirt riding up, relaxed and spread out on the hood of the Impala—and memorized it for later. For when She’d tuck Herself against his side on the couch, and he’d have to excuse himself to go chase relief in the bathroom.

But now She was drinking. Because of Dean. And She was going to hurt herself even more, and he wasn’t a good man, and she deserved better, but-

He raised his hand to knock on Her door, and it swung open.

She squinted up at him, lips in a pretty pout, and he swallowed. It was too quiet. He’d been planning to storm in and demand She just go to bed. Braced to take any of Her insults or fists pounding on his back as he tucked her in. The noise would keep the thought from his head. The one that meant he’d let Her goddamn shoot him, if it made Her happy.

He hadn’t been ready for the silence. For how She was swaying slightly, Her hand drifting up to press on Dean’s chest with a small frown, shoving him lightly.

“You’re here.” She mumbled, words already slightly slurring together. “Big.”

Dean blinked at Her. “Huh?”

“You’re big.” She took an unsteady step forward, and She’d touched him first.

Dean let his arms shoot up to catch Her, and She giggled slightly, leaning Her head against his chest.

“And strong.” Her fingers raised up, poking his chin. “Pretty.”

Jesus Christ. “You’re drunk, sweetheart.”

She snorted, rolling Her eyes. “So?”

“So, you’re injured-“

“You get drunk and injured all the time, Dean-“

“That’s-“

“Different?” She dropped Her voice to mock his, and pushed suddenly off his chest. “Shut up, if you’re just gonna yell at me again I’m not telling you my secret.”

“What secret- Shit-“ Dean lunged forward, grabbing Her before she could slam into the sharp corner of her dresser. “Slow down, baby-“

“Baby.” She hummed, hands suddenly grabbing Dean’s face and he swallowed. That was Her focus, analyzing face that She used in interrogations. A little dazed and soft from the drinking, but still sort of terrifying. Dizzying and scary and beautiful, keeping him frozen in place like She’d cast some sort of spell. “I’m not your baby, Dean.”

That drove right between his ribs. Damn near made him double over. But this wasn’t about him right now, so he choked on the broken sound of pain, and pushed on.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m sorry, just slipped-“

“Do you call them baby?”

He frowned. “I- Uh- Who?”

“Them.” She whispered, leaning against his chest. “The others.”

“Ba- Kid, I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Kid.” She scowled, and shit, even that was enchanting. “‘m not a kid.”

“I know-“

“Is that why it’s not me?” She asked softly. “Cause you think I’m a kid?”

Dean said Her name slowly, and he wasn’t sure when he’d grabbed Her hips. She wasn’t moving him away.

He’d take it.

“I don’t think you’re a kid-“

“But you’re comin’ to tell not to drink.” She mumbled, Her face dropping fully against Dean’s chest. “And you don’t think I can hunt alone.”

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself-“

“You don’t care.”

Dean frowned. “Of course I care-“

“But you were mad.”

“I-“

“You don’t need to be here.” She muttered. “I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” Dean sighed Her name, and let his hand tangle in Her hair. “But I told you. You’re not alone.”

It felt right. Like where he was supposed to be, even if he knew he shouldn’t be allowed there. And She melted into him.

Dean had been the one that hurt Her. She wasn’t his.

But Her arms were wrapping around his neck, and she hummed softly, taking a deep breath, turning to bury Her face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

“You smell good.” Her words were half mumbled against Dean’s skin, lips brushing on his throat, and damn him, he wanted to stay here forever.

“Thanks-“

“And I love you.” She whispered, voice drifting off as lighting hit Dean’s whole body.

She was drunk. She couldn’t meant it, she was drunk and tired and pissed at him-

“Sorry.” She breathed. “Love you.”

Dean held Her firm as She became a slack, dead weight in his arms.

It was quiet again, save for the sound of Her breathing.

The only sound in the world that mattered.

It sounded sort of like hope.

———

Your head doesn’t hurt as much as it should, when you wake up. There should be a migraine. A pounding pain, reminding you that you’d tried to drink away all your pain, only for it come knocking on your door right as you’d been ready to stumble and plead for it to keep hurting you.

Because not only is there no pain, but you can remember everything so damn clearly. Talking yourself into chasing Dean, and seeing if he’d do you a favor and beat your heart a little further into the ground. Maybe you’d manage to salt the earth, and that would be the end of it.

Deep down, you know it would only have bloomed again. It always does.

But Dean fighting you more would’ve meant he cared enough to shout. He had cared enough to shout.

And the details of him being in your room are a blur. There’s a feeling of warmth, and a phantom sensation of arms around your body, but all you can really remember is the ache. The hunger to have him, and the pain as you remembered you couldn’t.

But you had.

There’s a haze of being wrapped in him, and a low voice right in your ear, and the room spinning but around the same center of gravity. And he’d held you back. You’d grumbled and hit his chest, but he’d held you and put you to bed.

Maybe put you to bed. You don’t remember getting in bed yourself.

But you also don’t remember there being a heavy weight, on the other side of the mattress.

“I know you’re awake,” Dean mutters, and your fingers curl into the sheets.

He’s here.

He’s still here.

And you can remember a little more of what he said. What you said.

You told him you love him.

Aloud.

Fuck.

“You don’t have to get up.” Dean lets out a long breath, and you feel sort of sick.

You’ve lost him. You’ve never even had him, but you lost him. This is the part you’ve dreaded from the moment you looked at him, and realized it really was never going to be better than this. Then Dean. Humming to himself and drumming on the wheel. Loud in a way that makes the rest of the world seem to quiet. That makes you want to make things louder to match him, rather than let him force himself to drag down.

And he’s not going to ask you to leave. He would never.

But he will turn you down. Tell you that he doesn’t do relationships, and it will be the end. Worse, he’ll say he doesn’t love you, but if you want something without stings, he can offer that. And you’ll take it. You’re weak, so you’ll take it.

You hope he doesn’t offer it. You’ll overflow with love. It will start to weed, with nowhere else to go.

Dean takes in a sharp breath, and you brace yourself for the blow. It’ll be better if you take it lying down. You don’t really want to look him in the eyes.

“You, uh-“ He clears his throat, the sound oddly tight. “You don’t have to get up. Or say anything. Just listen. Okay.”

You don’t answer, trying to breathe evenly through your nose, and Dean lets out a dry chuckle.

“Alright. I did say you didn’t have to talk, guess that’s on me. I- Uh- I’m sorry.”

Here it comes.

“Sorry for yelling at you, sweetheart. You’re never anything but good to me, and I know you weren’t trying to get yourself hurt. I just- Son of a bitch, I can’t lose you. Won’t survive it. I need you. More than damn near anything, I need you here, with me. And I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “Don’t leave. I’ll- Shit, I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t stay pissed at me, baby. Please.”

Oh.

You don’t know how to move or speak or react, because oh. That wasn’t an I don’t want you. Wasn’t an I don’t feel the same.

It was an oh.

Dean coughs. “I, uh- I know I said you didn’t have to say anything, but it sorta- Can you say something? Even if it’s telling me to go to hell-“

“I don’t want you to go to hell.” You mumble, words muffled in your pillow. “And I’m not that pissed. I just- I can do things myself-“

“I know you can, sweetheart-“

“Do you?” You roll over, trying to give him a firm look, but it doesn’t work that well.

The asshole can sit on your bed all night, and still be the most attractive man alive. It makes all the—albeit pretend—anger die within a few seconds. He looks desperate. Short hair messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it all night. He’s in a thin, tight shirt, frowning at you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

“I do.” He mutters, his voice rough in a way that rushes right into your core. “I promise I do, baby. I just- You looked so freakin’ small. You were in pain. And I-“

“Can’t lose me?” You finish for him, sitting fully up on the mattress, and he gives you a tight nod. “You could never lose me, Dean.”

He lets out a dry laugh. “In my experience, that’s not exactly something you get to decide.”

“Maybe.” You shrug, drawing your knees to your chest. “But they’d have to drag me away.”

He raises his brows. “They would.”

“Yeah. They would.”

Dean nods slowly, giving you that odd look, then clears his throat. “You sort of- You said a thing.”

Fuck.

“I know.”

You fidget with your fingers, trying to hold his gaze, but it’s hard. He looks sort of like a cornered animal. Making himself bigger while preparing to be kicked all the same.

“Did you mean it?” Dean whispers, and you give him a tiny nod. “How long?”

“Two years.”

“Son of a bitch.” He runs a hand over his face, giving you an almost exasperated look. “And you didn’t think to freakin’ say something-“

“You didn’t say anything! And you slept with- I- I know I don’t have a say in what you do, but-“ You swallow, trying to prevent your voice from getting too high and needy. “I’m not going to tell you when I think you don’t care, Dean.”

He sighs, grimacing slightly. “Yeah. Fair. Does it matter if I tell you I don’t- That they’re not the same? As you are?”

“Not the same?”

“It’s not- I don’t care about it. With them.” He sighs. “With anyone but you.”

“Oh. Okay.” You give him a small smile, and there’s a spark in your chest. It’s dangerous. It’s going to let you fall into this, even if it’s a lie, but you don’t think it is.

With Dean looking at you like that, it couldn’t be.

“Okay?” He mutters, and you shrug. “Alright. Do you still- Y’know-“

“Love you?”

He nods, and you frown.

“Of course I still love you, Dean. It’s- I’ve put up with a lot more of your bullshit than this and still loved you. One fight isn’t changing that.”

He swallows, eyes wide on yours and voice to soft. “Can you say it again?”

You don’t have to ask what he means. “I love you, Dean.”

His throat bobs, and he leans slightly forward. You can see the dilation of his pupils. Watch the tip of his tongue, flick out over his lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

His voice is hoarse, you can almost feel the hunger in it. Written all over handsome features, mirror in your own hands curling on your knees and thighs pressing together.

“Yeah.”

There’s nothing else to say.

Dean leans forward, wrapping a hand carefully around your neck and resting the other on your knee, then kisses you softly. Slowly. It’s already more than you know how to handle. His lips against yours, moving carefully as he angles your face back, finding a gentle, dizzying pace that already sends you into a high that’s better than anything before. His hand slowly dragging your knees down, letting him lay you flat onto the mattress as his tongue traces over your lips.

He presses down lightly. Asking for permission, right as rough, calloused fingers brush your sides, and he settles between your legs.

You open for him, letting out a soft sigh down his throat as he sucks on your lower lip, and it’s still soft, but something shifts.

First it’s the kiss. Deeper. All the way into the mattress until you’re breathless, and his weight over your body somehow becomes not enough. You need to feel him. Feel more. Then his hand trails under your shirt, a knuckle brushing against your breast, and your back arches off the bed. Dean groans, his mouth starting to trail down to you neck—sucking tiny bruises as he kneads the skin of your waist—and when you moan his name, you can feel him. Hard, pressed right against your inner thigh. It just builds another, louder moan, and god, he knows what he’s doing.

Just kisses, possessive marks and touches, are unraveling you in a second. And the shift is heat. There’s so much building heat, in every moan and wet sound of Dean’s lips on your neck, and he’s moved above you. Kissing the base of your throat, his bulge pressed right over your core, and you need more.

“Jesus,” Dean grunts, pushing on his forearms to scan over your face. “Baby, please don’t start a game you can’t finish.”

You blink up at him slowly. “What if I want to start?”

He swallows. “Don’t-“

“Do you want to start?”

Dean sighs, dropping his brow down to yours. “More than anything, baby.” He rolls his hips against you, grabbing your back and kissing the side of your head when you shiver from the feeling. “You got no idea, how bad- how much-“

“Can you show me?”

Dean stares at you, and you hold his gaze. You want it. More. All of it. Whatever he’ll give you, and if the blown out, starved expression on his face is any sort of promise, he’s going to give you a lot.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, deeper than you’ve ever heard it, and you were already ruined. It’s a little unfair how just loving Dean ruined you.

Touching him might remake you. Or wreck you all together.

You’d really like to find out.

So you grab his jaw, tugging him back to your level, and kiss him. Slow and long and fir, biting his lower lip and trying not melt when he groans.

“Yeah.” You whisper against his lips. “You care about it? With me?”

He nods, trying to chase you when you lean back, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

“Prove it.”

It’s not a shift anymore.

It’s a snap.

Dean’s eyes darken. Narrow. His lips from a tight line, and he nods to himself. Like a challenge accepted.

And he’s still so slow. Taunting. Pressing you back down into the mattress with a heated kiss, going and going until you’re breathless, hands roaming anywhere he can reach as you cling to his neck. One grabs your breast, palming if for a seconds before rolling a nipple between his thumbs, right as the other wraps around your hips and gives a tight squeeze to your ass.

“Dean-“ You gasp, and he grunts, nipping your lower lip. “More- please-“

You start to tug on the hem of his shirt, and he rises up, ripping it off and tossing it away. But you barely get a second to reach up, let your hands wander the muscles panes of his chest or take in the virtual god towering over you—muttering your name, somehow muttering your name—before he’s tracing over your shirt, and raising his brows.

“Take it off,” he grunts, and you’ve never listened to an order faster.

The clothing flies off both your bodies, Dean’s hands both playing with your tits for barely a second before he’s yanking off his own underwear.

And Jesus.

Someone must have owed you a favor.

He’s everything. Strong and firm, but soft too. Broad. And you’ve see him flexing as a joke, or when he fought hand to hand, but that’s nothing compared to the view of him shedding his pants, towering over you, and slowly starting to stroke his own cock as he holds your gaze.

Even his dick looks sort of like art. Big and thick and heavy in his hand, standing proud, close enough for you to touch if you reach up.

“Hey.” He swats away your hand, shooting you a firm look. “I’m touching. You’re taking.”

You’re taking.

Dean wants you to take.

And you’d have to be insane to tell him no.

“Okay.” You whisper, and he smirks down at you.

“Good girl.”

Oh, god. Your thighs try to press together, but he shoves them apart. You’re still in your pants, but when he presses his palm over your pussy, there might as well have been nothing between you. Your hips jerk, and you try to grab his wrist, but he bats you away and starts to rub. Slow and firm, still beating his own cock as you fall apart for him from nothing.

“You gonna let me take care of you?” He moves his knuckle to press over your clit, and a high whine leaves your throat. “Gonna take what I give you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, trying to wiggle to get just a little more friction. “Dean, just- Why-“

He laughs at your high whine, his hand gone from your pussy and slowly starting to trail down your thigh.

“Relax, baby girl,” he mutters, pulling your legs up into the air. “I’ve got you.”

You melt into the mattress, and nod weakly. He’s got you.

Dean helps you out of your pants and underwear before kissing the inside of one ankle, then the other. He slowly starts to make his way up your legs, kissing every bit of skin he can find. Leaving a small bite on your knee before kissing it better, right as he grabs your hips, massaging his thumb in firm circles.

Every breath starts to hitch, as he makes his way to your inner thighs. Another tiny bite, another wet kiss, then a heavy breath over your clit. A soft kiss.

“Dean,” you moan, your whole body burning with need. “Dean, I-“

You squeak as he lands a sharp slap on your cunt.

“Take it.” He grunts, teasing two fingers on your dripping pussy. “So fuckin’ wet- I’m taking care of you, right? Told you, baby, all you gotta do is settle down and take it.”

You nod, trying to lay back into the sheets, but it doesn’t last long.

A loud, desperate moan leaves you as Dean dives between your legs, and you’re going to fly out of your skin. He’s good. So good. And you might be screaming that, as his tongue fucks in and out of your cunt, it’s impossible to hear yourself over the sound of Dean devouring you. His nose rubs your clit, the stubble of his beard burning your thighs, and when you scream something that’s probably his name, he groans right into your pussy. It vibrates through your whole body, sending you so high so fast, and he senses it.

Dean starts to lick your clit, quick and small until you’re a bucking, moaning mess below him. Gasping for air as his forearm over your stomach pins you to the mattress, tugging his hair in a silent plea to come, then making a high noise as he groans again.

Finally, his lips latch around you, and he sucks, tongue never ceasing its movement.

Your orgasm hits you with fireworks and light, eyes rolling back in your head and body going limp, and Dean doesn’t stop until you’re floating down from the high. Then he kisses your hip, up your stomach, and pauses at your breasts. Takes one nipple into his mouth while playing the other between his fingers, switching the moment you start to grind below him, then kissing back up your chest. You get a wide, boyish grin for half a second, then his lips press back over yours.

Demanding.

Still so soft.

“Taste like heaven.” He mutters, and you hum, scratching at his shoulder. He chuckles. “Need more, baby girl?”

You nod, and he grunts.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Haven’t fucked you yet. You’ve got some words for me in that big brain-”

“More.” You gasp. “More, Dean. You- Your cock. Need your cock. Please.”

He groans, kissing your deeper. “There she is. Good girl.”

You whine, and he pulls back slightly, giving you a small frown.

“Protection-“

“Are you clean?”

He blinks at you. “Yeah, but-“

“Pill.” You mumble, spreading your legs. “If you’re okay, I- Please. Wanna feel you.”

Dean stares at you for a second, then crashes back down into you. This kiss is feral. Hungry and messy and teeth, only broken after Dean rolls you over his body.

He picks you up like you weigh nothing, slowly guides your down his chest, and raises your hips. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as he helps you sink down onto his cock. Splits you open so gently, looking up with such awe as he rubs your thighs and lets you adjust.

You’re full. So fucking full.

And you need more.

You squeeze around him, rolling slightly and whining when he presses that spot deep inside you, and Dean groans your name.

“Shit- Take what you need, baby.” He grunts. “I’ve got you.”

You nod, nails digging into his chest, and start to ride Dean’s cock. It feels so good. Your clit rubs over your abdomen, all the noises in the world just the wet sound of his dick buried in your pussy, and every whine from your throat as you start to climb up again.

Dean groans when you squeeze around him, head thrown back and fingers teasing over your nipples, but it’s still not enough.

“Dean,” you gasp, squirming over him as your legs start to burn. “I- I need you-“

He moans, hips jerking up, and takes over without another question. Firm hands grab your hips and start to bounce you on his cock, and all you can do is feel it. The dizzying high of Dean inside you, the warmth of him under your hands, the sounds from his chest rolling through your whole body until you’re hovering back on the edge.

And he knows, before you can plead with him. That you still need more. Dean pushes up on one hand, crashing his mouth back against yours, and pins your down on his cock. You’re trapped against him as he starts to fuck up into you, hitting so deep in your body you might be seeing stars, every groan from his mouth into you like lightning through your blood.

He’s close. You can sense it, in the way his movement are growing harsher. Hear in his every moan.

“Dean- Dean, I’m-“

“I know.” He growls, slamming against your g-spot with every thrust. “C’mon, baby. Cum for me.”

The coil in your gut snaps, and your mouth falls open as your vision goes white. It’s maybe the most powerful orgasm of your life, only doubled as Dean just keeps fucking you, shoving his tongue down your throat, and groaning your name as he paints your cunt white with his own release.

He collapses with a groan, still slowly grinding up into your pussy, and you’re only still upright because of his hold on your hips.

Dean’s thumb wanders slightly. Flicks over your clit, making you both moan as you spasm around him.

“Dean.” You grumble, and he grins up at you.

“Sorry, baby.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah.” He laughs. “I’m not.”

He’s laughing. Grinning. Relaxed below you, and still sheathed inside you. Then Dean rises up, and you meet him halfway. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he kisses you, slow and deep, and slowly roles you under his body. You whimper when he pulls out, and he just softly kisses your neck.

“Be right back.” He mutters, taking your hand and squeezing it gently.

You hum, letting your eyes flutter closed as his weight vanishes over your body. This is a warm, comfortable silence. There’s no need to speak. You can feel Dean anyway. There’s a dip in the mattress and a kiss on your ankles, then a warm sensation between your thighs, as he cleans you up.

“C’mon.” He mutters after a second, pulling you into his arms. “You gotta pee.”

You hum, turning your face into his neck, and when he sets you down on the toilet, you somehow manage to keep your brow pressed to his. Then it’s just even, easy breaths, gentle hands guiding you back to your bed, and Dean tucking you back against his chest.

He’s holding you like you’re fragile. His voice in your ear is still soft.

Nervous.

“Can I stay?”

You nod, twisting in his arms to press your face back against his neck, and he sighs.

“Are you-“

“‘m sure.” You mumble, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Love you. Want you here.”

His heart stumbles slightly. “Thanks.”

You hum, tangling your legs together, and he sighs, rubbing circles on your back as he shifts you comfortably in his arms.

He mutters your name, soft in your ear. “I feel it too.”

You smile against his skin. “Okay.”

“I- I just can’t-“

“Dean-“

“I’ve never- It’s not you, I just-“

“Dean.” You make your voice firm, leaning back to meet his gaze. “It’s okay. I know.”

And you do. You can see it now, in how he looks at you. See it before, as well, when you really look. In every blanket at ordered food and slower step. It might be there longer than you’ve loved him.

But it’s all the same, anyway. You’re still here. Whispering in the dark. Together.

“You do?” He mutters, and you smile.

“Yeah. I do.”

End Note: I don't like how my fyp knows how down bad i am for this man. If I get one more jackles Countdown shower scene, i'm gonna... write more horny stuff.