spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

This sounds like a Castiel AU

a guy kisses a frog hoping it’ll turn into a princess. instead it explodes into 400 bees and whispers “your curse has begun.” he is now a beekeeper by prophecy. his life is bees now. he can never explain this to anyone.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

**cackles**

Person A: "You're insufferable."

Person B: "And you're in love with me."

Person A: "That says more about me than it does about you. Don't get smug."

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

That looks pretty good

everytime you reblog this post destiel goes canon again btw

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Hey 😼

I need to study for my math test tomorrow but all I can think about is Soldier Boy bending me over his knee and slapping the shit out of me while mocking me (omg who said that)

But yeah, would I have the honor of you writing something like that? rawr

made me giggle just reading the ask

i hope i fulfilled your dream😽

divider from @uzmacchiato

“c’mon babygirl, you gotta count for me” ben said to you, and even if you couldnt see him you knew he has that smug smile on his face. it was a stark contrast to his handprint making your ass red

you were sprawled across the couch on your stomach, ass up on bens lap, red bruises already littering each of your cheeks and the backs of your thighs

its not that you didnt do anything to deserve a spanking- its more what you did do. prancing around his apartment all day with nothing but his shirt and some panties on, bending over with your ass pressed against him every time- you were all over him all day

smack! “pay fucking attention to me when i speak” his voice is gruff, pulling you out of your thoughts and drawing a whine from your throat at the sting

“e-eight-” your voice is weak as you whimper out the number, you were pretty sure it was eight. was it nine? god it hurt too good to pay attention anymore

“eight” his voice is mocking- in that stupid high pitched voice he does when he wants to mimic your voice. “god, you sound so pathetic. you were asking for this all day, no?”

that earned another whimper from you, tears pricking your eyes, half from the sting, half from how mean he was being.

“ben- i didn’t-” smack! "didnt what? didnt want this, or didnt mean it? c’mon babygirl, you deserve this”

you moan at that slap, the pleasure mixing with pain, your hips twitching in his lap. “next time im slapping your fucking face, your enjoying this too much”

and god knew he was right about that.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

thinking about professor! ben who just can't keep his eyes off of you.

he knows that his little infatuation is not considered 'morally right' or whatever. you're one of his students after all, and even though you may be a legal adult, you're still approximately two whole decades younger than him. so, yeah. decently not 'right.'

but luckily for ben, he never gave a flying fuck about doing what's right.

you were always so attentive during his class, always so focused. you raise your hand like a good little girl, so eager to answer his questions. ben wonders if you'd be just as eager when you're on your knees, his cock pressed against your lips, all angry and red, desperate for your attention.

or maybe you'd be a little more cautious. a little more hesitant. maybe you'd be intimidated by the prospect of getting with someone so much older, your own professor nonetheless and he'd be left to soothe your fears, to calm you down, to promise you it'll feel good, so fucking good, if you'd just let go and let him take care of you.

he'd kiss you rough, hard, full of want and passion and lust. ben would love to wrap his calloused hands around your tiny waist, pulling you flush against him so you can feel just how aroused you really make him feel.

and he would leave little bite marks on your neck and collarbone. dark, bruising hickeys that signify that you're his and no one elses. his. just the way he likes it. the way you'd come to like it, too.

you were always the good, obedient type - not one to get in trouble and take risks. that's another day he loves so much about you. you're just so innocent. too innocent to ever understand the meaning behind his lingering looks, and certainly too innocent to understand the effect you have on him, the way your voice alone can get him all hot and bothered, oh so desperate for some sort of release.

oh, he can't waits for the day he can get his hands on you. his favorite little girl, his princess, his plaything...

but for now, he'll be left just to watch. to wait until he gets to make his move on you. to make you his for real.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

no cause idk if its Soldier Boy being hot af or just Jensen doing an amazing job or is it because i miss my Dean..

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Omg I loved your Soldier Boy x Reader when he comforts her after that date that went wrong❤️ can we please please please have more of that, just Soldier Boy with his sweet girl who is all heartbroken because all the guys just ghost her after a short time (and it is totally not Bens fault because he would never threaten anyone that came too close to his precious girl wink wink)

thank u for the support!! i hope this is what you wanted

kinda related to this post!! go check it out if you like this

divider from @uzmacchiato !!!

all ben hears is a huff, your phone hit the coffee table, and the shuffle of blankets before your curled against his side

your head was shoved into his chest, not crying but definitely not happy. just frustrated. the guy you were just talking to- josh- just blocked you. this was the 3rd guy to ghost you this month!

“am i weird” your voice is muffled against ben’s shirt, and you feel his chest vibrate with a familiar hum

“course not, babygirl. why would you ask that, huh? some idiot tell you your weird?” you hear his voice in his chest, his hand moving to rub your arm comfortingly

“some idiot- didnt tell me anything! i just got blocked for no reason!” you whine into his chest like some kid who just got told no to icecream- you really liked josh!

“my poor girl” ben hums, his big hand moving to your hair instead, his fingers running through your strands. at your sigh, ben makes a mental note to send josh the money for following the instructions to ghost you

“how about i take care of you, huh? distract that pretty head of yours from such a terrible thing” ben asks, a small smirk on his face as he tilts your head up to his, met by your pouty expression

“ah- fuck- just like that-” you moan out into the bedsheets, suddenly grateful you got ben to buy the extra soft ones from the way your face was pushed against it

“yeah- i bet no one could fuck you as good as me- no one could make you come as hard as i do-” ben rants on- the same tangent he goes on every time someone ghosts you and hes stuck comforting you

his hands grip your hips, certainly leaving bruises for tomorrow as he pulls your hips back to meet his movements, relishing in how pliable your body was to him

before you know it, the coil in your tummy was ready to snap, and of course ben picks up on it, leaning forward as one arm wraps around your front, reaching your clit as his mouth finds its way to your neck

“yeah babygirl- cum for me- i bet josh couldnt make you cum this hard” his voice his smug. cocky, even, as you spasm and release around him.

and your far too wrapped up in the pleasure to ask- how does ben even know josh’s name?

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

❤️

One Year Later

Summary: you sit at Sam's grave after the fight with Lucifer and Castiel.

WC: 496

Warnings: Angst, Post S5 Finale

Read on ao3!

The cemetery was quiet. Still. The kind of still that only ever came in the lull between storms, in the moments when the world held its breath and didn’t quite know what to say.

The sky above was heavy with thick clouds, just on the edge of rain. You knelt in front of the headstone, one hand brushing away the few stubborn leaves that clung to the marble.

Samuel Winchester 1983 — 2010 "He chose the world."

Your fingers traced the words you’d insisted be carved there. Dean had argued for something simple. Bobby had gone silent and turned away. But you had stood your ground, even when your voice trembled. Because if anyone deserved to be remembered for more than the war, it was Sam. Sam, who had been soft despite the blood on his hands. Sam, who had chosen to die for people who would never know his name.

“I should’ve gone with you,” you whispered, voice hoarse from disuse. “You didn’t even give me the chance.”

You sat back on your heels, blinking slowly at the headstone as though expecting him to answer. Like maybe, if you were quiet enough, he’d reach out again. A ghost. A voice in your ear. A brush of warmth on your shoulder.

But there was nothing.

Not this time.

“You always had this way of making me feel like things could be okay. Even when they really, really weren’t,” you said, a small laugh cracking through your grief. “And then you just… left. No goodbye. No note. Just Dean, standing in front of me, shaking his head. Like it wasn’t a choice. Like you’d already made it and we didn’t get a say.”

Your voice broke.

“I would’ve gone down there with you. I would’ve followed you into the Pit.”

The wind stirred around you, gentle. Cold. Like a hand running along your spine. You closed your eyes.

“It’s been a year,” you said. “Dean’s trying. I think. Sometimes he looks like he’s going to break in half and I don’t know how to help him. I think he’s mad at you. I think I am too.”

You took a breath.

“But I miss you more than I could ever be angry.”

Silence answered. Not cruel. Not indifferent. Just… silence.

You reached into your coat pocket and pulled out a worn leather journal. His. Pages still folded with old notes and lore scrawled in messy handwriting.

You placed it at the foot of the grave.

“I couldn’t keep it anymore. It felt too much like holding my breath.”

A raindrop landed on your sleeve. Then another. You didn’t move.

“I love you, Sam,” you whispered. “Still.”

The wind picked up again, and just for a moment, you swore you felt warmth on the back of your neck. A whisper of breath. The echo of a voice that once said your name like a promise.

Then it was gone.

And you were alone again.

But not empty.

Not quite.

--

\\PLEASE REBLOG!//

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

hiii lovely, I hope you’re doing well 💙 i’m on the verge of sleep lol, but I have a fun question for youu :) in your opinion which jackles character likes to say “my wife” the most? 😗 (I mean i’m sure they’d all be down bad for their spouse lmao, but who do you think takes the cake? 🤣)

sidenote; I hope everything is going good for you !! If I remember correctly you had a lot goin on lately, I hope everything is settling smoothly <33

Hey, friend!! Sorry it's taken me a while to answer. I just started a new job this week, so my brain is all over the place. 🤪 (Thank you for asking! 💕) But I loooove this question lol. Let's say we're talking about the Big Four - Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy, and Russell Shaw.

HEADCANON: Who says "my wife" the most?

Yeah I feel like if they all got to the point of letting someone in that deep, all of them would be down bad for their girl lol. But I feel like it would go something like this:

Dean Winchester + Soldier Boy (Ben): Protective 👿

Not to say that Beau and Russell aren't protective bois too, but I feel like Dean and Ben are more likely to "say it" in that gut punch situation where they're about to tear someone a new orifice.

"Fuck off, asshole. That's my wife."

"That's my wife. Show her some fucking respect, before I break every limp-dick fucking bone in your body."

Beau Arlen + Russell Shaw: Playful 😘

I think Beau and Russ are more likely to "say it" more often, but in that playful, endearing, flirty teasing way.

"How's my lovely wife doing on this beautiful evening?" He wraps you up in his arms, fully knowing how late he is and trying to lighten up your glare. "Waiting three hours for her husband to get off work so we can actually make it to our anniversary dinner," you snip. "I managed to rechedule the reservation, but we've gotta move quick if we're going to make it in half an hour." He butters you up in any way possible, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek. "That's why I love you. You always think ahead." Rolling your eyes, but still smiling, you grab ahold of his tie. "All right, cowboy. Let's go."

"Ooh, I can't be seen with the likes of you, sweetheart. My wife would kill me." Cue a mischievous smirk. You shake your head in amusement. God. This man. You still let him slip his arms around your waist and pull you in close, so he can trail his lips up your neck, inhaling the alluring scent of your perfume. You giggle breathlessly. This is one of his favorite little games. The gold band on the ring finger of your left hand matching the one on his calls his bluff though. "She doesn't have to know," you purr. Your lips are just shy of a whisper near his ear. "This can be our little secret."

AN: @wvffles I hope this answers your question! 😘💓

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Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

@kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse

@mostlymarvelgirl @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester

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@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean

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@my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @rizlowwritessortof @cookiechipdough @mrsjenniferwinchester

@fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused

@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2 @winchester-whiskey

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

all that room and he still brushed against dean

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Drunk On You (Sam Winchester)

Summary: After coming home drunk, you slip into the wrong bed.

Warnings: no cheating, some humor, drinking, drunken reader

WC: 854

Read on ao3!

The motel room door creaked open with a drawn-out whine, cutting through the late-night quiet like a buzzsaw. You winced, pressing a finger sloppily to your lips in a shhh gesture — though no one was around to see it — and stumbled inside.

The air was heavy with the stale mix of dusty curtains, cheap cleaning supplies, and the faint, lingering sharpness of gun oil. It should’ve been a warning. It should’ve snapped you to your senses. But you were riding the giddy, reckless high of one too many drinks — tequila shots, was it? — and a single-minded mission that buzzed louder than any motel ambience: Find Sam. Jump Sam. Love Sam.

You kicked the door shut behind you with a heel-clacking thud that shook the thin walls. Somewhere deep inside, your brain whispered, Be quiet... they're sleeping... But that was a very tiny voice, and it was quickly drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the fuzz in your head.

The motel room was dark except for the blueish-gray flicker of a TV screen left on mute, casting the two beds into ghostly silhouettes. One bed was definitely occupied — a large shape curled beneath a ratty quilt, the outline broad through the shoulders, tall enough that his feet nearly hung off the end.

You grinned, biting your lip. There you are, baby.

Wobbling on unsteady feet, you abandoned your shoes with a graceless thunk and half-stumbled, half-floated toward the bed. The mattress dipped as you climbed on, not even bothering to pull back the covers. You slithered across the surface and pressed yourself up against the warm, solid figure underneath.

"Mmm, missed you," you whispered, your voice thick and syrupy with affection. The body tensed — just slightly — but you barely noticed. You nuzzled into what you thought was Sam’s neck, pressing a wet kiss somewhere near his jawline. Your hand, fueled by liquid courage and months of longing, trailed lazily up his chest — broad and strong beneath your fingers — until you reached his throat.

Rough stubble scraped against your palm. Weird... Sam shaved this morning, your brain mumbled sluggishly. You ignored it. You shifted your weight, straddling his hips, and leaned in, voice a sultry, drunken purr against his ear.

"Been thinkin' about you all night... missed your mouth..."

The body beneath you jerked again — this time harder — and a very wrong voice rasped out, low and panicked, "Y/N?"

You froze. The haze in your mind thinned for a second. That wasn’t Sam’s voice. You blinked hard against the darkness, heart hammering. Your fingers clumsily explored the jawline beneath you, feeling the unfamiliar cut of the cheekbone, the strange scruff, the...the...The lamp clicked on.

Bright, blinding yellow light flooded the room, and there he was — Dean Winchester. Dean, with a look of sheer disbelief and horror frozen on his face, his green eyes wide as dinner plates, and his hands hovering an inch away from your hips like he was afraid touching you would turn him to stone.

You screamed.

It wasn’t a loud scream — more like a strangled gasp of pure humiliation — and you threw yourself backward so violently you rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a solid thud.

Dean sat up fast, scrubbing both hands over his face. "Jesus Christ, Y/N! What the hell?!"

Your mouth opened and closed uselessly, panic turning your brain into static. "I—I thought you were Sam!" you wailed, half-hiding behind the bed.

Dean groaned, throwing his head back against the headboard. "Sweetheart, if Sam's the one with a beard and a leather fetish, we gotta have a talk."

Across the room, you heard more movement. Another bed — the other bed — shifted, and a low, sleepy voice called out: "What's going on?"

Your soul tried to leave your body. Because that — that was Sam. Real, genuine, sleepy-voiced Sam. You peeked over the mattress to see him sitting up, shirtless, his long hair rumpled, squinting at you and Dean with sleepy confusion.

"I got into the wrong bed," you whimpered miserably, feeling very small and very, very stupid.

Sam blinked slowly, as if it was taking his mind a minute to catch up. Dean, meanwhile, just pointed a thumb at himself and muttered dryly, "Yeah, lucky me."

There was a pause.

Then — like the final blow — Sam started to laugh. Not a mean laugh. It was warm and rough and helpless, full of the kind of affection that made your chest ache. He pushed the covers off and padded over to you in three strides, scooping you up off the floor before you could think to stop him.

You clung to him instinctively, mortified but comforted by his strong arms and his familiar scent — soap, leather, and something warm that was just Sam.

"Come on, sweetheart," he murmured, lips brushing your temple. "Wrong Winchester. Right girl."

Dean's voice floated after you as Sam carried you away:

"And next time, buy me dinner first, huh?"

You buried your burning face against Sam’s bare chest, groaning, as he chuckled and deposited you safely into his bed. Finally — finally — in the right place.

--

//use this as a reminder that reblogs allow me to know that you loved this piece so much you were willing to share with your friends//

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Ooo

I am so stoked to bring you my art for @imaginaryprotagonist's incredible Destiel story, If the World Has to End, I'm Glad I Have You by my Side. It's full of that delightfully crunchy angst we crave, all topped with loads of post-apocalyptic ambience, themes of alienation, and a lesson or two in letting yourself love and be loved in return.

Go read it now on AO3! >

Thanks to imaginaryprotagonist for bringing the pain and to @destielangstbang for organizing! Everyone should go check out all the other amazing works there, too!

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Loved that so much

can I req sub-ish ben headcanons for my birthday?

omg yes ofc my sweet mahi !!!! happiest of birthdays you angel !!!!! i hope your day’s incredible !!!!! and i hope you’re UTTERLY spoilt w presents and love 🤍🥂🎉 18+

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

⊹ you somehow convince ben to let you take charge for the night, telling him “you’ll love it. you can just sit back, relax, and get your dick milked. what’s there to not like?”

⊹ but he’s apprehensive… naturally. and so it takes a little bit of sucking up—kissing ‘n grinding and letting him tease you until he’s tired himself out and ready to let you do all the work for once.

⊹ and when you pull out the police-grade steel handcuffs, he scoffs. “no way, doll. those won’t hold me. are you serious?” but you are. and your face reflects that. so he lets you “pin” his hands to the headboard, assuming he’ll just break free when he decides he’s had enough.

⊹ when you start touching him, he doesn’t quite know what to do. it’s a little bit of “shit, that feels good. keep doing that.” and before he knows it… he’s kind of begging.

⊹ you don’t say anything though—not wanting to snap ben out of this needy mindset you’ve somehow worked him into.

⊹ and as he keeps begging (“more, more– c’mon, faster, baby, i’m losing my mind here”), he begins to fuck up into your hand or mouth or whatever you’re using. and it’s sooo fucking needy. he’s literally chasing his orgasm.

⊹ but the plot twist is…. it’s only been like 10 minutes, and mr. self-proclaimed “stamina man” is already about to fucking cum.

⊹ and fuck, is the sight glorious or what? his eyes glisten in need and his lips are parted, exhaling the breathiest groans you’ve ever heard from him. it’s so fucking hot, but you do keep a part of your brain focused on the handcuffs, making sure he’s not about to break out of them.

⊹ but it doesn’t even seem like he’s trying to break free. it’s like he’s given into this completely—entirely focused on reaching his peak under your control.

⊹ you feel yourself practically vibrating from desire, having to clench your thighs together to lessen the ache between them as you work his cock.

⊹ you finally allow yourself to join in on the pleasure, sinking down onto his throbbing erection that’s wet from how much pre he’s been leaking.

⊹ the moan ripped from ben’s lungs is indescribable. so pathetic but so fucking deep and sexy. it makes your head spin.

⊹ but as you’re focused on finding a rhythm on ben’s dick… he fucking cums. right then and there. he groans gutturally and shoots his hot white seed inside you, coating your walls and filling you to the absolute brim.

⊹ your jaw drops. partially in disbelief, partially in amusement.

⊹ and when he finally comes down from that excruciatingly good high, he sees your face… and the way your lips have twitched into a smirk.

⊹ he swallows, schooling his face back into his regular tough-guy expression. “no– no. not a word, doll. i swear–”

⊹ and you laugh because 1. it’s funny and 2. the brute of a man below you just prematurely blew his load.

⊹ and lord, does your laughter irritate ben?

⊹ your chuckling is cut short when you hear the clink of the metal handcuffs break. you’re immediately thrown onto your back. “don’t fuckin’ laugh at me. i’ll show you what’s fuckin’ funny.”

⊹ uh oh….

fig yaps: this felt like a tiny lil fic so i’m tagging my taglist heheh !!!! mahi, here are some deer and a birthday kiss from me to u <3

⟡ taglist: @chevroletdean @honeyyxxbee @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @jensenacklesballsack @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @littlejackles @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @freeluigihesbae @bejeweledinterludes @blossomingorchids @lanasgirlfr @seven7lee @nymphet-quenn @rafessweetgirl @maeji-may @eternalssunshinee @blossomingorchids @benscumgluzzer @soldiersgirl @arcannaa @vmiina @h8aaz @iluvdeanwinchester @n-o-p-e-never @liiiilsss

↑ comment to be added / removed (zero judgement) !

sorry if u see this and aren’t tagged, tumblr caps it at 50 and i cbf to reblog w other tags 😭

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

PTSD episode?

lingering impulses.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

John is an evil man

the way dean expects punishment but instead he gets concern from bobby

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

I never thought of it that way. I love that episode of Doctor Who though. I see what they mean.

a comic about fix-it fanfics

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

by ScarlettesQueen

Y/N has always been draw to Dean Winchester since he stumbled into her life when she was just a teenager. She was sure she’d be an omega, his omega. But things don’t always happen like you plan, and Y/N is determined to find a place where she fits, even if it means leaving Dean Winchester behind. But when curses break, and friendships rekindle, will that finally give them both what they have always wanter.

Words: 4731, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Reader, You

Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/You

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, True Mates, Pining, curse, Alpha/Omega, Omega Reader, Angst, Unrequited Love