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[supernotnatural2005]

Thank you! I’m gad you enjoyed it 😘💕

‘I’m just getting started’

Based on this Imagine

Characters: Dean x Reader

Word count: 4000+ (oops)

Warnings: Swearing, slight Dom!Dean, smut.

A/N: I don’t what happened, i just got really carried away haha, but it’s Dean and smut, so i’m sure y’all won’t mind… Also feedback is much appreciated :)

Tagging: @but-deans-back-tho

You sighed in contentment as soon as the hot water hit your skin; washing away all of the muck and blood and the stresses of todays hunt. Vamps were always messy sons of bitches, but easy to kill nonetheless.

Once you’d spent at least 40 minutes scrubbing your skin raw and your hair clean; the water now turning tepid, you shut the shower off and began drying yourself off. Dean would most likely bitch at you for using up all of the hot water but you couldn’t care less to be honest. You were both in the middle of a prank/annoying the hell out of each other war and he had already pissed you off earlier by disabling your iPod for fucking ever, meaning you’d had to sit and listen to the same old Led Zeppelin tape for the past 4 hours. It wasn’t that you hated Dean’s music, in fact you loved it, but listening to the same set of songs everyday for hours on end, over and over again, got a tad infuriating, which is why you had started bringing your iPod on hunts and road trips in the first place. You had got a little payback though before you had left the motel to stake out the vamps nest, by eating his last slice of pie and leaving the empty container in the fridge with a note saying ‘I’m just getting started!’ So he had that and now a cold shower to look forward too. Ha!

You finished drying yourself and your hair thoroughly before getting dressed, which proved to be a bit problem when you saw that all of your clothes had mysteriously disappeared. You frowned at the empty radiator where you were sure you had left your clean pjs. No, where you were 100% sure you had left your clean pjs. “What the fuck?” You mumbled to yourself and looked around the bathroom once more until something caught your eye, a note in fact, tucked behind the bathroom mirror. You were hesitant as you plucked it from behind the mirror, not sure whether you wanted to know what was on it, but you examined it anyway. Your confusion turned to realisation and then to anger. “Son of a bitch.”

You opened the bathroom door and peaked your head out and saw Dean lying against the headboard of one of the beds, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. You opened the door wider and stepped out into the room, shivering a little at the temperature change and walked over to your duffle bag to find your clothes had disappeared from there too. You felt your blood boil and sauntered over to the foot of Dean’s bed, mimicking him by crossing your arms over your chest and arching your eyebrow threateningly at him.

Dean didn’t move for a moment and you were starting to think maybe he was actually asleep until you saw one of his eyes peak open and a smug smirk make its way across his lips.

“Where are my clothes Dean?” You demanded, but kept your voice calm and collected but nonetheless threatening. He opened both his eyes then and you tried not to flush at the way his eyes roamed over every inch of your body like you were water in a desert.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Y/N?” He answered innocently, his smirk never faltering, his eyes glistening with mischief and, and lust? You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him and threw the note on the bed, your note, the one you had put in his empty pie container.

“Very funny Dean, I know that’s my note which means you obviously took my clothes!” You growled at him and he chuckled before raising an eyebrow.

“So you admit it then? You admit that you ate MY last slice of pie!” He raised his voice a little and stood from the bed, stalking towards you like you were his prey. You felt a familiar heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, but you stood your ground and glared up at him as he towered over you; all muscle, plump lips, candy apple green, testosterone… ‘Stop it Y/N!’ You scolded yourself. Dean raised his eyebrow, his hard glare matching yours.

“Well?” He demanded, his voice low and gruff.

“Fine, fine, yes I ate your damn pie! But you fucked up my iPod first!” You defended and poked him in the chest and glared up at him.

“Yeah okay, but that was only because you had unwound all of my cassette tapes!” He seethed, but you looked at him in confusion then.

“What the hell are you talking about? I never touched your damn tapes!” You defended angrily. “I like your music why would I go out if my way to do that?” You questioned and then it was Dean’s turn to be confused.

“But- Wait so if you didn’t do it, then who the hell…” Dean trailed off and you watched as his face turned from confusion, to even more confusion and then realisation hit you both.

“Sam!” You exclaimed at the same time and met each other’s gazes before you stood back and smirked at him and he gave you a sheepish grin and a shoulder shrug.

“Well Winchester, looks like you’ve got some making up to do.” You told him and crossed your arms over your chest again. Dean looked at you like a frightened child, which made you giggle and shake your head. ‘What are you doing Y/N?’ You asked yourself as you stepped closer to him, your face just inches from his throat. Your sinuses being overwhelmed by the smell of fading cologne, which was masked by his sweat and leather and something that was just distinctly Dean. You bit your lip, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him, because when you met his gaze his pupils had almost swallowed any flecks of green that were left. You shivered, but not from the chill in the room, no your whole body was on fire at the close proximity and you could feel yourself grow wetter and wetter as the time ticked by.

You weren’t sure what was happening right now, you and Dean had been friends forever and your relationship was nothing more than teasing each other and harmless flirting, but since this whole war between you both started the sexual tension between you both was definitely evident, even Sam picked up on it and had asked you on numerous occasions if something was going on between you both, which you’d assured him wasn’t, but now you were not so sure and if Dean’s heavy breathing and predatory gaze was any indication he was thinking the same thing.

“What do want me to do?” He asked, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it before and my God was hearing the slight submission in his voice not helping the ache between your legs. You tried to subtly rub them together as you stepped impossibly closer, making Dean visibly gulp as your warm breath fanned across his throat and up to his ear where you teasingly gave his lobe a gentle bite, earning yourself a deep throated moan from him. ‘Well I guess we’re definitely on the same page.’ You thought, relief flooding throughout your body, making you relax and become bolder. You stood back putting a couple of inches between you both and grasped the edge of your towel. Dean’s breathing hitched and his eyes darkened even more, if that was even possible, as he watched you slowly peel open your towel and let it drop to your feet. ‘Yeah there’s no going back now.’ You thought to yourself, though you were too turned on and worked up from all of the built up tension between you both to care.

You stood bare before Dean watching as his chest rose and fell with each sharp intake of breath he took and how is fists clenched and unclenches at his sides as if he were fighting with him self to reach out and touch you. You weren’t ashamed of your body, you had a pretty decent physique; you were toned but still curvy in all of the right places and the way Dean was devouring you with his eyes let you know he approved of what he saw.

“Well,” you took a step closer to him and he stood straighter, his eyes snapping to yours. “Since you’ve hidden all of my clothes,” you took another step, and his breathing picked up. “I’m gonna need to borrow yours.” You were standing toe to toe with him now and you blinked up at him innocently and watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“You can take anything you want sweetheart.” He replied cockily though with how wrecked his breathing was and the flush on his skin, it didn’t really come across that way. You smirked up at him and ran the palm of your hands down his chest, relishing in how firm he was and how his muscles tensed under your touch.

“Well you see Dean, you’re wearing the shirt I want to wear.” Your voice was low and seductive as you slid your hands under the open army-green button down he was wearing and pushed it over his broad shoulders and down his arms. Dean visibly shuddered as your fingertips softly grazed over his skin as you removed the shirt completely, leaving him in only a tight fitted grey t-shirt and his dark denim jeans. You clutched the shirt in your right hand as you moved your left to reach up and grab onto the back of his neck, to give your self purchase, as you lent up on your tiptoes, bringing your mouths just inches apart, causing your warm breaths to mingle together. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut as you drew him closer and closer to your lips, but just as they were about to touch you turned your head and planted a firm, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth instead. Dean’s eyes snapped open and he glared at you as you took a step back and began putting his shirt on. You winked at him and went to turn away but strong arms wrapped around your waist, causing you to shriek as he pulled you flush against him and then moan as your ass pressed up against the hard budge in his jeans.

“Oh no you don’t. I thought I had made it clear Y/N? I’m just getting started.” Dean growled against your ear and you shuddered against him, letting out a whimper when he sucked harshly at your neck, which was definitely going to leave a mark, the thought only adding to your arousal. You began shamelessly rutting your ass against him, loving the little moans your ministrations were pulling from him until his hands gripped your hips tightly, stopping your movements. He turned you so quickly you had to grip onto his shoulders to balance yourself. He smirked widely at you, presumably because of how equally wrecked you looked and crashed his lips to yours in an almost bruising kiss. You gasped at the suddenness of it but quickly melted into it and gave back just as much. The kiss was all tongue and teeth and you both clung to each other like you were each other’s lifelines as you mapped out each other’s mouths, moaning and gasping for air, which you were both denying one another. Dean’s hands slid down your back and over the swell of your ass, squeezing it firmly and making you moan into his mouth before he pulled away from you, panting and staring at you with wide eyes, kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and ears as he stared down at you, his bright green orbs flicking over all of your features with a gentle smile on his lips.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so fucking long Y/N.” He confessed, still panting heavy and lent his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes and hummed in agreement,

“Then what are you waiting for Winchester? You’ve got me now fuck me!” You whispered harshly against his lips, causing an animalistic growl to leave his throat as he abruptly lifted you from the ground, making you squeal in surprise and wrap your legs tightly around his waist as he carried you to the bed, his determined gaze never leaving your pleading one.

Dean carefully laid you down onto the bed as you continued to cling to him tightly and hovered over you as he kissed you deeply and thoroughly. As soon as you were situated in the middle of the bed, your head resting on the pillows, you pulled him impossibly closer to you, loving the feel of his firm body pressed against yours. Dean settled his weight on top of you, which caused his jean-clad erection to rub deliciously against your bare pussy. You both moaned at the feeling and pulled back from the kiss, panting heavily into each other’s mouths. Dean experimentally ground his hips against you again and you moaned loudly and arched up into him. You gasped and he groaned as you continued to rock into each other, enjoying the sensations it caused. Dean’s arms wrapped securely around your waist and back, keeping you close to him whilst your hands grasped at his ass and lower back, pulling him flush against you. You felt the familiar knot begin to form in the pit of your stomach and your moans got louder as his pace quickened; his constricted hard on mixed with the roughness of his jeans gave you an overwhelming amount of pleasure.

It wasn’t long before you cried out Dean’s name and came hard, your whole body shuddering as your orgasm rippled through you. Dean stop his movements, watching as you writhed beneath him, trying to come down from the waves of intense pleasure cascading throughout your body. When you’d finally calmed down and your breathing was relatively normal again, you looked up at Dean to find him already looking at you in awe. You lazily ginned up at him before crashing your lips to his in a long, deep kiss, which he responded too instantly. You pulled back and smirked up at him.

“Your turn.” You growled and shoved at his shoulders so he was now laying on his back. He looked up at you with sparkling eyes as you moved to straddle his waist and ran your hands down his chest and over his stomach, smirking as his muscles tensed under your touch and stopping at the hem of his t-shirt before pulling it up and over his head with his help. You took a minute to admire Dean’s bare torso, you had seen him shirtless countless of times before, but now was different, more intimate. You peppered chaste kisses over his chest and stomach, smiling as he writhed and moaned beneath you before you scooted down his thighs. You made quick work of ridding him of his jeans and boxers and gasped at the size of him; he was bigger than you’d ever had, thick and proud against his lower belly. Beads of pre-cum had begun to leak from his angry red tip and suddenly your ideas of teasing him flew out the window. Your mouth watered at the sight of his achingly hard cock that was just begging for a release and all you wanted to do was grant him just that.

You locked eyes with him as you licked a long wet strip up the underside of his shaft, making him hiss and then moan as you slowly swirled your tongue over his sensitive cock head before wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking his length into the wet heat of your mouth. Dean gasped and threw his head back onto the pillows as you began to relentlessly bob up and down on his member. His hand flew to your head, tangling in the almost dried tresses of your hair and you moaned around him as he began to thrust his hips up, pushing his cock further into your mouth. Dean’s moans got louder and more sinful as you continued to suck, lick and jerk him until he was throbbing with need. He hissed and tugged lightly at your hair as you continued to moan around him, knowing the vibrations were only adding to his pleasure and encouraging him to cum in your mouth, but Dean had other plans. He tugged at your hair a little harder than before, pulling you off him with a loud wet pop, which caused you to raise an eyebrow in question, but instead of getting an answer he sat up and crashed his lips to yours, kissing you fervently and moaning as he tasted himself on your tongue. He pulled back when the need for air became too much and smiled at you just as you had smiled at him only moments ago.

“Don’t want to cum in your mouth, want to cum with you.” He panted. Though it wasn’t the most sweetest thing you’ve had said to you, it affected you just as much. You smiled gently at him before cupping his face and kissing him softly, both of you sighing into it before you pulled back, grinning like a couple of goofs.

“Then what are you waiting for Winchester?” You whispered, biting at his bottom lip and just like that he was back in control, growling before flipping you onto your back and moving to hover over you once more. You gasped as his fingers brushed against your clit, causing you to jolt your hips up into his hand, wanting more friction. Dean chuckled lowly before he slowly sunk two thick digits into your dripping core, making you cry out in pleasure.

“Fuck your wet baby, and so tight” Dean breathed against your neck, nipping and sucking at your pulse point as he curled his fingers slightly, hitting your sweet spot in all the right ways.

“Dean!” You cried out as he continued to brush your G-spot over and over again. You arched up into him, gasping and whimpering as you felt the pressure build again. Dean’s strokes sped up; shouts of his name along profanities left your mouth as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. You clawed at his shoulders and back, making him hiss in pleasure and speed up his ministrations until you were cumming hard, again, all over his fingers. This time you had no time to compose yourself before Dean was plunging into you, moaning your name as your walls clenched tightly around him, still fluttering from your previous orgasm. You chocked out a cry at the stretch, the slight burn only adding to your pleasure as he stilled inside you, buried to the hilt. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him tight against you. Dean slowly pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you, setting a relentless pace as he pounded into you hard and fast.

The motel room was filled with the low grunts and moans from Dean, high-pitched cries and whimpers from you, along with the sound of skin slapping against skin. You could feel yourself-building again despite only just having had another mind-blowing orgasm, but the feeling of Dean moving inside of you, his cock pulsing as he tried to hold back his release and the way your bodies fit together like a jigsaw piece, only heightened senses of pleasure you never thought even existed. Dean’s head fell into the crook of your neck as his hips began to stutter, he was close you could feel his cock twitching inside of you, the feeling only making you moan louder.

“Dean.” You cried out when he hit your sweet spot and continued to do so with each sharp thrust. You pulled him closer to you and he moved his head so he was looking directly at you, leaning up on his forearms on either side of your head as he slammed into you with short sharp thrusts. Your mouth maintained the shape of an ‘o’ as he brought you closer to the edge and for a third time that night. Dean was bringing you to heights of pleasure no man has ever gotten you to before and after tonight your not sure any man ever will.

Dean’s eyes were almost black as you stared up at him; his cheeks were flushed and beads of sweat had begun to form on his forehead as his face contorted in pleasure. Dean was perfect in every sense of the word and knowing that you, the average citizen that you are, were causing his pleasure only added to your own. Dean leaned down and captured your lips in a shy kiss before pulling back to gaze at you affectionately.

“You’re fucking perfect Y/N.” He accentuated with a particularly hard thrust, making you both cry out each other names.

“Dean, please.” You begged and he grinned at you before moving one of his hands to rub harshly at your clit.

“I’ve got you baby.” Dean whispered, his voice straining slightly as he too was close to edge. You panted out his name like a prayer as he picked up speed again, his calloused fingers working wonders on your swollen clit. His rhythm faltered slightly after a while and with one last final hard thrust, you both came hard with a shout. You were uncontrollably shaking as your orgasm shot through you, much more powerful than the last two, stars exploded behind your closed eyelids as sparks of pleasure lit up every nerve ending in your entire body. The feeling was so intense you almost didn’t feel Dean’s body trembling above you as your pussy clenched tightly around his throbbing cock, milking him dry as he stilled inside of you, coating your walls with his warm seed.

You both gradually came down from your intense highs and Dean carefully pulled out of you, hissing slightly at how sensitive he was, before flopping down next to you, laying side by side as you both stared up at the ceiling panting heavily. You lay in silence for a long time, trying to compose yourselves before you eventually broke it by giggling. Dean turned his head to face you, a bemused smile on his lips as he watch you, head thrown back in laughter and a beaming grin on your lips. You turned toward him, noticing his eyes on you and you smiled even wider, his smile growing with yours.

“What?” He asked, slightly breathless, the smile never leaving his lips. You giggled once more before looking back up at the ceiling.

“I can’t believe this just happened.” You answered and huffed in disbelief. You felt Dean tense beside you and you turned to face him again; his smile had faded and he was looking anywhere but you.

“Oh no Dean, I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” you quickly assured “you were amazing and I’m glad it happened because I, I um, I…” You struggled to finish your sentence, suddenly becoming nervous and turned to look back at the ceiling again, but Dean’s fingers hooked under you chin and tilted your head to look at him.

“You what Y/N?” Dean whispered, a gentle smile on his lips encouraging you to continue. You blushed a little, debating whether or not to just say it, but what the hell right? You’ve come this far.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time Dean and not just as in ‘I’ve wanted to sleep with you’, I want all of you.” Your voice was barely a whisper but Dean heard you and smiled wide, showing you his perfect pearly whites and adorable eye crinkles before he cupped your cheek and lent forward to capture your lips in a kiss so gentle and sweet you were sure your heart would combust. You both smiled and giggled into the kiss before pulling away, gazing at one another, admiring the little details on each other’s faces you hadn’t noticed before.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time too Y/N, all of you.” Dean whispered back and you beamed at him before pulling him in for a long slow, feeling induced kiss.

[supernotnatural2005]

Thank you so much😘 💕

Right!? I don’t think there’s anything that man couldn’t convince me to do 😂 and poor Sammy!

Late night escapades...

Based on this Imagine

Characters: Dean x Reader

Word count: 1337

Warnings: Smut from the start, minor swearing, Dean is adorable, poor Sammy :/

A/N: Let me know what you guys think, feedback is much appreciated :) 

I’m tagging @but-deans-back-tho

“Hmm, what are you doing?” You ask in a sleepy whisper to Dean, whose hands are beginning to wander, his touch soft and exploring and incredibly arousing. “It’s been weeks baby,” he whispers, breath warm against the nape of your neck. “I need you.” He playfully bites your earlobe and you shudder as one of his hands traces the waistline of your sleep shorts. “W-what about S-Sam?” You stutter breathlessly as you feel his hand slowly dip into your panties, but pauses. “If you keep quiet, he’ll never know.” Dean whispers in your ear before his hand continues its path into your wet heat, caressing your soft folds and letting out a soft groan.

“So fucking wet sweetheart.” The pads of his fingers begin rubbing slow circles on your clit; making it hard for you to bite back the moans you felt brewing in your gut. You push back against him, plastering your back to his front. Dean chokes back a growl at the feel of your ass rubbing against his straining erection and adds pressure to the little bundle of nerves, quickening his pace. Your jaw drops and you start grinding your hips down on his hand, seeking more friction for your fast approaching orgasm.

You turn your head and bite down on the pillow beneath you, silencing the loud moan about to escape your lips as you feel two thick digits enter you, pumping in and out of you at a maddening pace until your body is tensing and you’re cumming, hard all over his fingers. He peppers your neck and shoulder with sweet kisses as you catch your breath and slowly pulls his hand out of your now soaked panties.

You crane your neck and watch as he brings his fingers, slick with your juices, to his lips and begins the suck each one clean, closing his eyes at the taste of you. You hold back a moan at the sight and your pussy begins to throb with need. You flip over so you’re facing him and crash your lips to his, your moans being swallowed by him, as you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Need” kiss “you” kiss “now.” Dean shoves your shorts and panties down your legs where you eagerly kick them off before allowing him to hover over you. You gasp as you feel his rock hard cock nudge at your entrance, you momentarily think - when he got rid of his boxers - but your thought is cut short when he slides all the way into you with one deep thrust. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream as he stills, buried deep inside you, allowing you to adjust to his size. His head falls to the junction between your neck and shoulder where he bites down, trying to hold back his moans as he pulls almost all the way out of you and plunges back in, causing you to moan a little too loudly.

Dean’s hand clamps around your mouth and ceases his movements, head snapping to the bed Sam’s occupying. You see Sam shift slightly in the corner of your eye before you hear his soft snores fill the silence. Dean looks down at you then, his gaze hard; pupil’s blown wide with arousal, erasing any candy apple green that was left. “Promise me you can keep quiet, because I really don’t want to stop right now.” He whispers against your ear and you clench around him as an answer, making him bite his lip and squeeze his eyes shut. Regaining some composure, his eyes snap open and meet yours briefly, wide and lust blown before his lips are replacing his hand.

He sets a slow and languid pace, hips flush against yours, buried deep inside you as he ruts against you. You feel every vein and every twitch of his swollen cock with each stroke, making you mewl beneath him and claw at his shoulders and back, wanting more. Dean’s lips stay connected yours as he picks up the pace, drowning out the small moans and whimpers leaving you both. One of his hands slides over your hip and along your thigh - to the bend in your knee where he grips hard and hooks it over his hip; the new angle pulling him in deeper and allowing him to brush against your sweet spot.

Dean lets out a soft groan at the feel of your walls fluttering around him and moves his head to your shoulder where he bites down. One of your hands tangles in his hair, gripping tightly as he begins to pound into you, whilst the other leaves angry red claw marks down his rippling back muscles. Dean bites down harder at the feeling and you have to burry your head the in the crook of his neck to stop a loud moan tearing from your throat. The smell of cheap motel soap, leather and sweat invade your senses and it only adds to your pleasure.

“God I’ve missed this,” Dean breathes out against your neck, hips faulting slightly. “I’ve missed being inside you, holding you close, watching you come undone.” He pulls back to look down at you, the motel’s neon sign casting a dim glow over his blissed out features; hair tussled, cheeks flushed, brow furrowed in pleasure. He looks perfect. “Can you cum for me baby? I want to see you.” He whispers against your lips as his hand snakes down your stomach to rub furiously at your clit.

You gasp, your back arching and body tensing as white-hot pleasure explodes within you. Your walls begin spastically clenching around him as your orgasm ripples through your every nerve, prompting his own release. Dean’s lips claim yours in a bruising kiss, burring his moans in your mouth as his body shudders and cock pulses deep inside you, filling you with his warm seed. Dean’s head falls into the crock of your neck, his weight heavy but comforting above you as he pants, catching his breath from his incredible high.

“Are you guys fucking done.” You hear a deep growl permeate the silent motel room. Your eyes widen and you snap your head in the direction of Sam’s bed. He’s facing the opposite wall but his shoulders are tense. “Sorry little bro,” Dean’s voice is full of apology and guilt, though the shit-eating grin on his face begs to differ. “Duty calls.” You slap his shoulder and he slowly pulls out of you, moving to lie beside you.

“Yeah, whatever, just… Go to sleep or go somewhere else.” Sam groans and buries his head under his pillow. Dean chuckles softly and you smack his chest. “Hey.” Dean exclaims in a harsh whisper. You glare up at him. “This is your fault Winchester.” You hiss at him and flip over to your original position, feeling embarrassed and sorry for Sammy. You feel Dean shift behind you and he’s soon surrounding you, holding you close to him. “Don’t be mad baby, you know you wanted it just as much as I did.” He cooed softly in your ear, gripping your hip and placing gentle kisses over your neck and shoulder. You wanted to be mad at him, you really did, but he always knew how to get under your skin and win you over every time.

You sigh in defeat and snuggle back into him and you can practically feel his grin against your shoulder. Cheeky little shit. You’re about to drift off when you feel his arms tighten around you as he snuggles impossibly closer to you. “I love you.” He whispers and you can’t stop the wide grin from taking over your features. “I know.” You whisper back and you feel the rumble in his chest against your back as he chuckles lightly. It’s silent again and you can feel Dean’s muscles relaxing against you and soft snores escaping his lips. “I love you too.” You whisper into the night and drift off into one of the best sleeps you’d had in a long time.

[supernotnatural2005]

Thank you!!! 💕

Honestly guys, the response on my newest fic has been absolutely incredible! It has made this return to writing and posting so much more worth it. So thank you all!

I currently have some WIP’s i want to get through and hopefully organise a schedule to post more frequently for those interested. Also feel free to send in asks on who you’d like to see me write for! 🙋🏻‍♀️

[supernotnatural2005]

I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed it! 💕☺️ It was very fun to write!

I just imagine Sam to be ‘one of those people’, adorably unaware of when his presence is not needed! 😆 But, they got there in the end!

The Great Sam Winchester C*ck Block!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean and you have been desperate for some much needed alone time. However, a certain Winchester keeps getting in the way.

Word Count: 4106

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only! Fluff, Sam is a massive c*ck block (yes that’s a warning!)

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since i posted anything. Life has been wild. But i miss writing so much and have a few WIP. This just happens to be the one i’ve finished! 😅 Just something fun and spicy. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome!

My Masterlist

You sighed, head thrown back against the leather seat, back arched and legs spread wide as Dean scissored two of his thick fingers inside of you.

Soft lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and suckled at the spot behind your ear, which only added to the desperate throb of the walls of your pussy.

Your skin flushed and breathing laboured as he expertly rubbed at that spongey spot inside you, making you gasp and tense at the thrum of pleasure, tingling from the tops of your ears down to the tips of your toes.

The soft praises of; “you’re so wet”, “so beautiful” and “come for me baby”, followed by the lewd sounds of your dripping core against the harsh thrust of his digits, echoed in the small confinements of Baby’s backseat. Resulting in an ecstasy like state of desperation to reach your peak for him.

Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, the material covering his skin all but assaulted by your vice-like grip, as he brought you closer and closer to your impending crash.

You opened your eyes, gaze heated and glazed as you met fiery green orbs, drinking in your wrecked state with satisfaction and pride.

With his thumb now rubbing against your clit, you could feel your body begin to tense. The coil in your lower belly wound tight, ready to just about snap, when something over his shoulder caught your attention.

“Sam!” You gasped in an attempt to warn him. Though in your current state, it came out as more of a gasp of unmeant pleasure. But it had Dean’s fingers stilling instantly, drowning the flame he’d brought to life inside of you.

“What?” The shock was evident in his voice and the same eyes that had been filled with lust just moments ago, now laced with hurt at your outburst of his brother’s name. Made ten times worse at the fact it was whilst he was fingering you into oblivion.

Dread filled you at his harshly retracted fingers and you scrambled to explain before another fire brewed in his eyes, but this time with intent to burn rather than pleasure.

“Oh God, no baby! Sam is coming.” You guided his head in the direction of the other end on the motel’s parking lot, to where Sam was indeed approaching.

Relief flooded him like a cold drink of water quenching one’s thirst in a hot desert. His rapidly beating heart simmered somewhat at the realisation and he welcomed the soothing hand you ran through his short strands as he dropped his forehead to your shoulder.

You felt the rumble of his chuckle before you heard it, finding yourself joining in at the absurdity and worst timing ever of your boyfriend’s baby-bro.

“I guess we’re gonna have to pick this up another time.” He sighed disappointedly, but his eyes held a promise you clung to.

Sam Winchester was many things. A great hunter, empathetic and kind, your best friend. But mostly, he was the most oblivious cock block known to man.

For weeks you and Dean had been trying to have a little alone time. If it wasn’t the motel’s having only one twin room left, or a case taking its tole on you both to the point of pure exhaution, it was Sam’s impeccable timing.

You righted yourself by pulling on your discarded underwear and sleep-shorts, grimacing as the fabric met the mess between your legs.

Dean casually sucked his fingers clean of your juices, making your jaw drop and clit pulse in want.

Noticing your longing stare, he winked and slid a hand beneath his sweat pants to adjust the obvious tent, just in time for Sam to tap on the window.

“What are you guys doing out here? I tried calling you both for the past half hour.” Dean had opened the back seat and stepped out, allowing you to shuffle to the edge of the seat.

“I had a nightmare.” You lied easily as you stepped out of the car as well.

“I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you, so Dean offered to sit with me, calm me down.”

If oscars were awarded for best lie told, you’re sure you’d be up there in the nominees. It wasn’t necessary to lie to Sam but it beat, “your brother was just fingering me in the back of his car because we never have any time alone away from you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sam was sincere and his look sympathetic. It allowed for a shred of guilt to be had.

“Why were you looking for us anyway?” Dean interrupted, voice slightly rough and irritated, although Sam didn’t seem to notice.

“I found a case a couple of miles out. Three victims have turned up dead in the last week, all with their hearts missing. Sherif is calling it a vicious animal attack but, i figures we got ourselves a werewolf.”

Silence.

“And that couldn’t wait until morning.” Dean speaks up first. His agitation clear this time.

“Well, technically it is morning. It’s like five A M.” Sam shrugs like it’s nothing and you internally sigh.

“You’re right, we just lost track of time.” You force a smile and ignore Dean’s pointed look as a sudden plan forms in your mind.

“Let us freshen up and maybe you could grab us some coffee and breakfast? You know, since you’re the only one dressed and all.” You ask sweetly, hoping he takes the bait.

“Yeah sure. I was going to grab us all some breakfast anyway.” Sam offers.

Bingo.

“That’d be great, i’m starving.” You exaggerate with a hand on your stomach. In the corner of your eye, Dean gives you a funny look and it takes everything in you not to smirk.

“Okay, well i’ll see you in ten.” Sam says before making his way across the street toward the 24 hour diner.

Wasting no time, you grab Dean’s hand and roughly pull him with you toward the room.

“Woah, what in the-“ You shut him up with your lips roughly pressing to his once you enter the room. His back hitting the closed door with a dull thud.

“If you think i’m going to wait for God knows how long before i feel you inside me again. You’ve got another thing coming.” You explain in a rush as you tug his plain-black t-shirt over his head.

A smirk forms on his lips at your eagerness and Dean has to admit, it turns him on just how desperate you are.

“Oh, i like the way you think sweetheart.”

-

You sat in the backseat of baby, irritable, uncomfortable and beyond sexually frustrated.

Your attempt to finish what you and Dean had started back in the room was short lived, when Sam returned only 2 minutes later, having forgotten his wallet.

To say you were in a mood was an understatement. And the permanent scowl on Dean’s face and his white knuckling grip on the steering wheel, told you he was right there with you.

In the end, the three of you figured out who the culprit was, or should you say culprits were, relatively quickly. It was a young man, Johnny Turner who was recently turned, which explained the sloppy kills. And you later discovered the pack who’d turned him, hiding out in a cabin just outside of town.

Overall, it was a successful hunt with minimum injuries and you had prevented a young girl from being the fourth victim. But three people had still died and a young man had to spend his last moments of life as a monster he never wanted to be.

You still remember the fear and confusion in his eyes at what he’d done. But then he’d went to attack you and ended up with three silver bullets from Dean’s gun lodged in his chest.

So, when you climbed into bed that night, Dean following shortly after you as Sam lightly snored away on the bed opposite. There were no wandering hands under the covers, working each other up until you were desperate enough to find yourself back in the back seat of baby. Just silence.

All in all, Sam’s case had inadvertently been another giant cock-block in itself.

3 Days Later.

It wasn’t your most classiest moment, but you found yourself knelt on a grubby restroom floor; Dean above you with his jeans and boxers pushed down mid thigh as you took his heavy, achingly hard length into your mouth.

You could be ashamed at how horny you were. That you’d stoop so low as to pushing him into a disgusting bathroom stall; dropping to your knees and blowing him right then and there.

But after a whole day of watching him work on Baby, greased up, sweaty and watching his biceps flex as he adjusted loose bolts and nuts under the hood. It was like dangling a piece of meat in-front of a starving dog. You just had to take a bite.

After being unfairly teased all day, you had all ventured to the local dive in town. Of course, Sam came along, actually wanting to join in for once.

Despite your own sexual frustrations, you’d had a good time. Drunk Sam was a lot of fun and it was nice seeing everyone relaxed and with a smile on their face for once.

However, once Sam’s attention was preoccupied by a pretty brunette; and with a strong bout of liquid courage in your system, you’d taken advantage of the situation and summoned Dean to join you in the restroom.

You knew he was just as worked up as you were. You’d felt as much whilst playing a game pool earlier on in the night, when he’d pressed up against you, not so subtly and let you feel just how much the skirt you’d opted to wear turned him on.

So now here you were, sucking off your boyfriend in the restroom stall of a dive bar, like some horny teenager. But if his moans and grunts as he lightly thrusted his hips intime with the bobbing of your head, told you anything. It was that he was more than on board.

Your panties were beyond soaked and uncomfortable but, Dean’s laboured breath’s and flushed cheeks as you looked up at him; his balls drawing up tight in your palm as you let him fuck into your mouth, a tell tail sign he was close, had you doubling your efforts to get him there.

“Holy shit baby. Right there.” He panted as you breathed deeply through your nose and took him as deep as your gag reflex would allow. The hand holding your hair back tightened, bringing with it a sharp sting of pleasure, making you moan around him.

He was seconds away from his release, when a loud bang interrupted you. It was as if an ice-cold bucket of water had been poured over your heads.

Startled, Dean’s slick cock slipped from your lips as you jumped back in shock. The loud bang was shortly followed by a girly giggle and a mans chuckle.

You looked up at Dean, wide eyed and silently asking if he wanted you to continue, when you heard it.

The stall next you rattled as the couple stumbled inside, the sounds of lips lewdly smacking together and then a voice you’d recognise anywhere, instantly cleared your sex hazed fog and had you as dry as a desert.

It was Sam.

You’ve got to be kidding me, Dean’s look told you.

-

One week later found the three of you pulling into Bobby’s for some much needed R&R.

After a week of non stop hunts, your bruised and beaten body needed at least a long weekend to recover. And the boys were more than inclined to agree.

As soon as your feet hit the gravel outside of Bobby’s house, you sighed in relief. The drive was long and your back, legs and butt ached from the lengthy position held.

“S’good to see you idgits.” Came the gruff greeting from Bobby as he stepped out the front door. You smiled at the term that had always been more out of endearment rather than as an insult.

You were the first to make your way over and fall into his embrace. Bobby always did give the best hugs. You’d missed him, a lot you realised as he gave you a big squeeze.

Although, your wince had him pulling back immediately to assess you with concern.

“Im all good, it’s just been a long week.” You explained truthfully and though he let it go, you could see he wasn’t fully satisfied with your answer.

“Mind if i grab a shower? I need to get the stink of hours being hot-boxed with the most gassiest man alive off of me.” You jab your finger blindly in Sam’s direction and miss his offended look.

Dean however, barks out a laugh to which Sam throws him his signature bitch-face.

“Hey, she’s not wrong man. S’probably all that rabbit food you eat.” Dean shrugs innocently, but is unable to contain his amusement.

“I’m not going to apologise for eating healthy Dean. Wouldn’t kill you to eat a salad once in a while mister, two double cheese burgers with extra bacon for breakfast.” Sam sasses back, mocking Dean’s gravelly voice. And in doing so, starts the endless bickering between the two brothers.

You decide then to make your escape, passing Bobby with a thankful hand on his shoulder and an apologetic look in your eyes as you make your way inside and upstairs toward the bathroom.

You drop your duffle to the floor and rummage through for some clean clothes. Luckily, you find a faded band t-shirt that you’re pretty sure once belonged to Dean and some leggings. It’ll have to do until you can take advantage of Bobby’s washer and dryer.

You’ll have to cook dinner as a thank you, you decide before peeling off your two day old clothes; grimacing slightly at the pain in your overused muscles and possibly bruised ribs.

You turn on the shower, making sure it’s on the verge of scolding, allowing for a billow of steam to encompass the medium sized bathroom, before stepping into the tub.

At first you flinch at warm spray in contrast to your much cooler skin, but quickly melt under the pressure and warmth seeping deep into your bones.

As you stand motionless, the weight of the last few weeks, possibly months, of being tense, unsatisfied and in pain, gradually releases it’s vice-like grip on you and washes away with the muck and grime accumulated on your skin.

Bliss. Thats what this was. Pure unadulterated bliss.

You’re so enraptured with the feeling, you don’t even notice him enter the room. Nor do you hear the shuffling of clothes being removed, or the curtain pulling back for him to step inside behind you.

It’s not until the coolness of his palms makes contact with your hips, do you startle and turn to meet the vibrant green eyes of your intruder.

“You don’t mind if i join you, do you?” Dean asks. As if you had a choice on the matter, as if you’d ever refuse.

You shake your head in both amusement and in answer to his question, and turn back around as he begins to lather his palms up with the body wash you’d brought with you.

A welcoming fruity smell of strawberries invades your sinuses and you soon hum in pleasure as his large, soapy hands glide across your skin. The act is incredibly intimate without the need to initiate into anything more than Dean simply taking care of you.

However, as his slick hands wander to your front, gliding across your stomach and up to lather your breasts. A fire that had been put out one too many times, reignites within you.

You bite your lip and lay your head back against his shoulder as his hands travel back south. Your breathing grows heavier as his seemingly innocent actions spark you to life.

The feel of his smile against the side of your head, tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing though. So as a form of punishment, you subtly press back against him, smiling devilishly at the feel of his hardening length against your lower back.

His breathing shallows as you slowly gyrate your hips back against him and your pussy throbs in need of something, anything.

The famous saying, ‘great minds think alike’ had never proven more true as Dean’s right hand continues its journey, until two of his thick digits part your wet folds.

You gasp as his middle finger begins to slowly circle your clit, causing an electric jolt of pleasure to course through your entire body.

“You’re so wet already baby.” Dean husks in your ear, just as he briefly dips a finger into your dripping hole before returning the coated digit to your clit.

Adding his forefinger, Dean begins to quicken the pace of his fingers and adds pressure onto the pulsing bundle of nerves, making you cry out and twitch and convulse in his embrace.

He holds you tightly to him by wrapping his other arm around your waist, as you shake and your stance falters, gripping onto the arm wrapped around you like a life line.

“Come for me baby.” You hear him all but growl, before you feel his soft lips begin to nip and suck at the sensitive junction between your neck and shoulder. His fingers are vigorous now and the coil wound tight within in you finally snaps.

Everything goes white; your veins like molten lava, fiery hot and melting your bones as the tremors of your well- overdue orgasm course through you.

“Fuuuck.” You can’t help but moan as your tense body slowly becomes like jelly against the strength of your boyfriend. Dean holds you upright as you slowly come to and only loosens his hold when he knows you’re able to stand on your own.

For a moment you feel like you had died and gone to heaven. Utterly relaxed and boneless, you smile dopily until the numbness fades and the overwhelming need to feel him inside you takes over.

You twist in his embrace and pull his face down to crash your lips to his. It’s messy, all tongue and clashing teeth, both blinded by pure desire and pent up frustrations.

You slide a hand between your bodies and glide your hand up and down his length. He’s hard as a rock and seeping at the tip, which you gather in your palm as you continue to jerk him off.

“Shit.” He pulls away with a hiss, eyes closed tight as he presses his forehead to yours. You bite your lip as you take him in, forever impressed of the beauty that is Dean Winchester.

His hand moves to stop you suddenly and he meets your questioning look with pupils blown wide.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep it up. Need to be inside you now.” He all but growls before sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You wrap your legs securely around his waist as he pushes you against the tile. The coolness brings out a gasp that’s soon swallowed by Dean’s all consuming, toe curling kiss.

“Please.” You beg as you pull away for a needed breath. Too worked up to vocalise anything else. Dean understands you though and shifts you higher up the wall, using it as leverage as he frees an arm to guide himself into you.

Your eyes cross as he slowly descends you onto his cock. The stretch is both overwhelming and not enough at the same time as he bottoms out. It’s a feeling you’ve missed gravely and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Holy fuck.” Dean groans deep in his throat at the feel of your tight, warm walls finally wrapped around him. A feeling he’s been starved of for too damn long.

“You feel so good baby.” You praise and cup his cheek to guide his lips back to yours. He slowly slides his way out of you until just his tip remains, before thrusting back in with a sharp snap of his hips.

The action makes you cry out breathlessly, eyes wide in the most painful pleasure. You keep your eyes locked when he does it again, mouth agape in a silent scream with each drag of his length against your sensitive walls.

He builds up a confident rhythm, hitting you in the sweet spot every time, making your toes curl and breathing labour.

“Fuck i’ve missed the feel of you.” You moan particularly loudly when he hits the right spot.

“You’re so tight and wet. Fuck.” Dean groans as he picks up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin, almost overshadowing the patter of the showers spray.

You’re close, you can feel it. Feel it in the way your lower belly clenches and limbs tense as your nerve endings spark with each thrust.

Dean’s close too. His panting breaths making way for the odd growl to slip out as he strains with effort to keep you both up. His own limbs starting to flutter in strength at his impending release.

Just as you’re about to loose it, there’s knock on the door, causing Dean to still and you to bite your lip in attempt to stop a frustrated groan.

“Hey Y/N? Have you seen Dean? I need the keys to the impala.” Sam’s muffled voice carried through the door.

Dean looks livid, but you look at him questioning eyes. ‘What do i say?’

It takes a moment, but Deans irritation fades and a sly smirk replaces it.

“I’m in here Sammy!” Dean calls out and your eyes widen in shock. However, you’re unable to say a thing when he shifts his hips, slowly dragging his cock almost all the way out, before pushing just as slowly back in.

Your mouth drops open and eyes flutter as he repeats the action.

“Wait why are you…” Sam trails off and you almost don’t hear his “oh.” Of realisation.

“Might not wanna traumatise yourself Sammy.” Dean calls out, just before he snaps his hips harshly into you again, and you can’t help but cry out. Your cheeks blush at the fact Sam could hear you.

“Dean!” You scold in a hushed whisper, but he doesn’t stop, making you bite your lip to stop from crying out more. Thankfully you hear Sam’s footsteps quickly retreat.

“I’m done with interruptions.” Dean all but growls before crashing his lips to yours. His hips begin to piston into you at an almost bruising, quickly bringing you both back to the brink. Your cries of pleasure muffle against his lips and your hands tangle in his hair harshly, making him moan.

“Fuck i’m going to cum.” You gasp, head thrown back and back arching as much as was possible in the position you were in.

“Let go baby. I’m right there with you.” Dean pants and you meet his eyes in a silent cry as you tense up. Your orgasm rippling through you like a bolt of electricity.

“Fuuuuck.” Dean quickly follows you with a couple more thrusts. His body tensing as he grunts into your neck, each twitch of his cock as he empties his seed deep inside you, sending little aftershocks through your body.

You’re both breathing hard, even when he pulls back to look at you. Dopy smiles rise on your lips simultaneously, and laughter soon follows. Dean slowly puts you down on shaky legs, but keeps you close as he leans down to claim your lips once more.

It’s slow and passionate and striking you back to life as we speak. The smirk on Dean’s lips is all knowing and you want to smack away his smugness, but you can’t find it in you to make on that promise when his wandering hand cups your aching sex.

“Someone’s a needy girl, ain’t they.” He mumbles between kissing his way down your neck as his thick digits stroke you to life.

You gasp at the sensation, torn between too sensitive and desperate to feel more.

You glide your hand up his broad shoulder and through his damp hair before gripping tight enough to make him hiss. His eyes darken lustfully and you smirk a little at the feel of him twitching against you.

“You have no fucking idea.” You whisper, before pulling his lips to yours.

It’s safe to say Bobby’s water bill paid a price that day.

[supernotnatural2005]

Main Masterlist

Hi all! Names Abbie. 27. Avid Dean!Girl

Welcome to my masterlist! Here you can navigate and find my work. I mostly write for Dean/Jensen. Hoping to maybe add some more of his characters in the future. Comments, likes and Reblogs are welcome. 💕

Dean Winchester Masterlist

TBA…

[supernotnatural2005]

Dean Winchester Masterlist

(** Contains adult themes. 18+ ONLY)

A composite of Dean x Reader inserts.

One Shots

The great Sam Winchester c*ck block! **

Summary: Dean and you are desperate for some much needed alone time. However, a certain Winchester keeps getting in the way.

Love and Ironies

Summary: There isn’t one 😫 but i do apologise in advance.

Late night escapades… **

Summary: Getting your freak on with Dean with Sam asleep in the bed next to yours. 🫢

I love you Dean Winchester**

Summary: Shower times with Dean.

Caught**

Summary: Hearing Dean moan your name and walking in on him in a compromising position.

Comfort

Summary: You comfort Dean after a difficult hunt.

“I’m just getting started” **

Summary: Dean hiding your clothes and him getting more than he bargained for

Stolen Clothing…

Summary: Wearing Dean’s clothes.

Drabbles

Freak out

Summary:Your flight experience with Dean.

Tease

Summary:Teasing Dean is fun.

Video edits

1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 , 10 , 11

[supernotnatural2005]

I know right!? The obliviousness is real 😂

The Great Sam Winchester C*ck Block!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean and you have been desperate for some much needed alone time. However, a certain Winchester keeps getting in the way.

Word Count: 4106

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only! Fluff, Sam is a massive c*ck block (yes that’s a warning!)

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since i posted anything. Life has been wild. But i miss writing so much and have a few WIP. This just happens to be the one i’ve finished! 😅 Just something fun and spicy. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome!

You sighed, head thrown back against the leather seat, back arched and legs spread wide as Dean scissored two of his thick fingers inside of you.

Soft lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and suckled at the spot behind your ear, which only added to the desperate throb of the walls of your pussy.

Your skin flushed and breathing laboured as he expertly rubbed at that spongey spot inside you, making you gasp and tense at the thrum of pleasure, tingling from the tops of your ears down to the tips of your toes.

The soft praises of; “you’re so wet”, “so beautiful” and “come for me baby”, followed by the lewd sounds of your dripping core against the harsh thrust of his digits, echoed in the small confinements of Baby’s backseat. Resulting in an ecstasy like state of desperation to reach your peak for him.

Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, the material covering his skin all but assaulted by your vice-like grip, as he brought you closer and closer to your impending crash.

You opened your eyes, gaze heated and glazed as you met fiery green orbs, drinking in your wrecked state with satisfaction and pride.

With his thumb now rubbing against your clit, you could feel your body begin to tense. The coil in your lower belly wound tight, ready to just about snap, when something over his shoulder caught your attention.

“Sam!” You gasped in an attempt to warn him. Though in your current state, it came out as more of a gasp of unmeant pleasure. But it had Dean’s fingers stilling instantly, drowning the flame he’d brought to life inside of you.

“What?” The shock was evident in his voice and the same eyes that had been filled with lust just moments ago, now laced with hurt at your outburst of his brother’s name. Made ten times worse at the fact it was whilst he was fingering you into oblivion.

Dread filled you at his harshly retracted fingers and you scrambled to explain before another fire brewed in his eyes, but this time with intent to burn rather than pleasure.

“Oh God, no baby! Sam is coming.” You guided his head in the direction of the other end on the motel’s parking lot, to where Sam was indeed approaching.

Relief flooded him like a cold drink of water quenching one’s thirst in a hot desert. His rapidly beating heart simmered somewhat at the realisation and he welcomed the soothing hand you ran through his short strands as he dropped his forehead to your shoulder.

You felt the rumble of his chuckle before you heard it, finding yourself joining in at the absurdity and worst timing ever of your boyfriend’s baby-bro.

“I guess we’re gonna have to pick this up another time.” He sighed disappointedly, but his eyes held a promise you clung to.

Sam Winchester was many things. A great hunter, empathetic and kind, your best friend. But mostly, he was the most oblivious cock block known to man.

For weeks you and Dean had been trying to have a little alone time. If it wasn’t the motel’s having only one twin room left, or a case taking its tole on you both to the point of pure exhaution, it was Sam’s impeccable timing.

You righted yourself by pulling on your discarded underwear and sleep-shorts, grimacing as the fabric met the mess between your legs.

Dean casually sucked his fingers clean of your juices, making your jaw drop and clit pulse in want.

Noticing your longing stare, he winked and slid a hand beneath his sweat pants to adjust the obvious tent, just in time for Sam to tap on the window.

“What are you guys doing out here? I tried calling you both for the past half hour.” Dean had opened the back seat and stepped out, allowing you to shuffle to the edge of the seat.

“I had a nightmare.” You lied easily as you stepped out of the car as well.

“I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you, so Dean offered to sit with me, calm me down.”

If oscars were awarded for best lie told, you’re sure you’d be up there in the nominees. It wasn’t necessary to lie to Sam but it beat, “your brother was just fingering me in the back of his car because we never have any time alone away from you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sam was sincere and his look sympathetic. It allowed for a shred of guilt to be had.

“Why were you looking for us anyway?” Dean interrupted, voice slightly rough and irritated, although Sam didn’t seem to notice.

“I found a case a couple of miles out. Three victims have turned up dead in the last week, all with their hearts missing. Sherif is calling it a vicious animal attack but, i figures we got ourselves a werewolf.”

Silence.

“And that couldn’t wait until morning.” Dean speaks up first. His agitation clear this time.

“Well, technically it is morning. It’s like five A M.” Sam shrugs like it’s nothing and you internally sigh.

“You’re right, we just lost track of time.” You force a smile and ignore Dean’s pointed look as a sudden plan forms in your mind.

“Let us freshen up and maybe you could grab us some coffee and breakfast? You know, since you’re the only one dressed and all.” You ask sweetly, hoping he takes the bait.

“Yeah sure. I was going to grab us all some breakfast anyway.” Sam offers.

Bingo.

“That’d be great, i’m starving.” You exaggerate with a hand on your stomach. In the corner of your eye, Dean gives you a funny look and it takes everything in you not to smirk.

“Okay, well i’ll see you in ten.” Sam says before making his way across the street toward the 24 hour diner.

Wasting no time, you grab Dean’s hand and roughly pull him with you toward the room.

“Woah, what in the-“ You shut him up with your lips roughly pressing to his once you enter the room. His back hitting the closed door with a dull thud.

“If you think i’m going to wait for God knows how long before i feel you inside me again. You’ve got another thing coming.” You explain in a rush as you tug his plain-black t-shirt over his head.

A smirk forms on his lips at your eagerness and Dean has to admit, it turns him on just how desperate you are.

“Oh, i like the way you think sweetheart.”

-

You sat in the backseat of baby, irritable, uncomfortable and beyond sexually frustrated.

Your attempt to finish what you and Dean had started back in the room was short lived, when Sam returned only 2 minutes later, having forgotten his wallet.

To say you were in a mood was an understatement. And the permanent scowl on Dean’s face and his white knuckling grip on the steering wheel, told you he was right there with you.

In the end, the three of you figured out who the culprit was, or should you say culprits were, relatively quickly. It was a young man, Johnny Turner who was recently turned, which explained the sloppy kills. And you later discovered the pack who’d turned him, hiding out in a cabin just outside of town.

Overall, it was a successful hunt with minimum injuries and you had prevented a young girl from being the fourth victim. But three people had still died and a young man had to spend his last moments of life as a monster he never wanted to be.

You still remember the fear and confusion in his eyes at what he’d done. But then he’d went to attack you and ended up with three silver bullets from Dean’s gun lodged in his chest.

So, when you climbed into bed that night, Dean following shortly after you as Sam lightly snored away on the bed opposite. There were no wandering hands under the covers, working each other up until you were desperate enough to find yourself back in the back seat of baby. Just silence.

All in all, Sam’s case had inadvertently been another giant cock-block in itself.

3 Days Later.

It wasn’t your most classiest moment, but you found yourself knelt on a grubby restroom floor; Dean above you with his jeans and boxers pushed down mid thigh as you took his heavy, achingly hard length into your mouth.

You could be ashamed at how horny you were. That you’d stoop so low as to pushing him into a disgusting bathroom stall; dropping to your knees and blowing him right then and there.

But after a whole day of watching him work on Baby, greased up, sweaty and watching his biceps flex as he adjusted loose bolts and nuts under the hood. It was like dangling a piece of meat in-front of a starving dog. You just had to take a bite.

After being unfairly teased all day, you had all ventured to the local dive in town. Of course, Sam came along, actually wanting to join in for once.

Despite your own sexual frustrations, you’d had a good time. Drunk Sam was a lot of fun and it was nice seeing everyone relaxed and with a smile on their face for once.

However, once Sam’s attention was preoccupied by a pretty brunette; and with a strong bout of liquid courage in your system, you’d taken advantage of the situation and summoned Dean to join you in the restroom.

You knew he was just as worked up as you were. You’d felt as much whilst playing a game pool earlier on in the night, when he’d pressed up against you, not so subtly and let you feel just how much the skirt you’d opted to wear turned him on.

So now here you were, sucking off your boyfriend in the restroom stall of a dive bar, like some horny teenager. But if his moans and grunts as he lightly thrusted his hips intime with the bobbing of your head, told you anything. It was that he was more than on board.

Your panties were beyond soaked and uncomfortable but, Dean’s laboured breath’s and flushed cheeks as you looked up at him; his balls drawing up tight in your palm as you let him fuck into your mouth, a tell tail sign he was close, had you doubling your efforts to get him there.

“Holy shit baby. Right there.” He panted as you breathed deeply through your nose and took him as deep as your gag reflex would allow. The hand holding your hair back tightened, bringing with it a sharp sting of pleasure, making you moan around him.

He was seconds away from his release, when a loud bang interrupted you. It was as if an ice-cold bucket of water had been poured over your heads.

Startled, Dean’s slick cock slipped from your lips as you jumped back in shock. The loud bang was shortly followed by a girly giggle and a mans chuckle.

You looked up at Dean, wide eyed and silently asking if he wanted you to continue, when you heard it.

The stall next you rattled as the couple stumbled inside, the sounds of lips lewdly smacking together and then a voice you’d recognise anywhere, instantly cleared your sex hazed fog and had you as dry as a desert.

It was Sam.

You’ve got to be kidding me, Dean’s look told you.

-

One week later found the three of you pulling into Bobby’s for some much needed R&R.

After a week of non stop hunts, your bruised and beaten body needed at least a long weekend to recover. And the boys were more than inclined to agree.

As soon as your feet hit the gravel outside of Bobby’s house, you sighed in relief. The drive was long and your back, legs and butt ached from the lengthy position held.

“S’good to see you idgits.” Came the gruff greeting from Bobby as he stepped out the front door. You smiled at the term that had always been more out of endearment rather than as an insult.

You were the first to make your way over and fall into his embrace. Bobby always did give the best hugs. You’d missed him, a lot you realised as he gave you a big squeeze.

Although, your wince had him pulling back immediately to assess you with concern.

“Im all good, it’s just been a long week.” You explained truthfully and though he let it go, you could see he wasn’t fully satisfied with your answer.

“Mind if i grab a shower? I need to get the stink of hours being hot-boxed with the most gassiest man alive off of me.” You jab your finger blindly in Sam’s direction and miss his offended look.

Dean however, barks out a laugh to which Sam throws him his signature bitch-face.

“Hey, she’s not wrong man. S’probably all that rabbit food you eat.” Dean shrugs innocently, but is unable to contain his amusement.

“I’m not going to apologise for eating healthy Dean. Wouldn’t kill you to eat a salad once in a while mister, two double cheese burgers with extra bacon for breakfast.” Sam sasses back, mocking Dean’s gravelly voice. And in doing so, starts the endless bickering between the two brothers.

You decide then to make your escape, passing Bobby with a thankful hand on his shoulder and an apologetic look in your eyes as you make your way inside and upstairs toward the bathroom.

You drop your duffle to the floor and rummage through for some clean clothes. Luckily, you find a faded band t-shirt that you’re pretty sure once belonged to Dean and some leggings. It’ll have to do until you can take advantage of Bobby’s washer and dryer.

You’ll have to cook dinner as a thank you, you decide before peeling off your two day old clothes; grimacing slightly at the pain in your overused muscles and possibly bruised ribs.

You turn on the shower, making sure it’s on the verge of scolding, allowing for a billow of steam to encompass the medium sized bathroom, before stepping into the tub.

At first you flinch at warm spray in contrast to your much cooler skin, but quickly melt under the pressure and warmth seeping deep into your bones.

As you stand motionless, the weight of the last few weeks, possibly months, of being tense, unsatisfied and in pain, gradually releases it’s vice-like grip on you and washes away with the muck and grime accumulated on your skin.

Bliss. Thats what this was. Pure unadulterated bliss.

You’re so enraptured with the feeling, you don’t even notice him enter the room. Nor do you hear the shuffling of clothes being removed, or the curtain pulling back for him to step inside behind you.

It’s not until the coolness of his palms makes contact with your hips, do you startle and turn to meet the vibrant green eyes of your intruder.

“You don’t mind if i join you, do you?” Dean asks. As if you had a choice on the matter, as if you’d ever refuse.

You shake your head in both amusement and in answer to his question, and turn back around as he begins to lather his palms up with the body wash you’d brought with you.

A welcoming fruity smell of strawberries invades your sinuses and you soon hum in pleasure as his large, soapy hands glide across your skin. The act is incredibly intimate without the need to initiate into anything more than Dean simply taking care of you.

However, as his slick hands wander to your front, gliding across your stomach and up to lather your breasts. A fire that had been put out one too many times, reignites within you.

You bite your lip and lay your head back against his shoulder as his hands travel back south. Your breathing grows heavier as his seemingly innocent actions spark you to life.

The feel of his smile against the side of your head, tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing though. So as a form of punishment, you subtly press back against him, smiling devilishly at the feel of his hardening length against your lower back.

His breathing shallows as you slowly gyrate your hips back against him and your pussy throbs in need of something, anything.

The famous saying, ‘great minds think alike’ had never proven more true as Dean’s right hand continues its journey, until two of his thick digits part your wet folds.

You gasp as his middle finger begins to slowly circle your clit, causing an electric jolt of pleasure to course through your entire body.

“You’re so wet already baby.” Dean husks in your ear, just as he briefly dips a finger into your dripping hole before returning the coated digit to your clit.

Adding his forefinger, Dean begins to quicken the pace of his fingers and adds pressure onto the pulsing bundle of nerves, making you cry out and twitch and convulse in his embrace.

He holds you tightly to him by wrapping his other arm around your waist, as you shake and your stance falters, gripping onto the arm wrapped around you like a life line.

“Come for me baby.” You hear him all but growl, before you feel his soft lips begin to nip and suck at the sensitive junction between your neck and shoulder. His fingers are vigorous now and the coil wound tight within in you finally snaps.

Everything goes white; your veins like molten lava, fiery hot and melting your bones as the tremors of your well- overdue orgasm course through you.

“Fuuuck.” You can’t help but moan as your tense body slowly becomes like jelly against the strength of your boyfriend. Dean holds you upright as you slowly come to and only loosens his hold when he knows you’re able to stand on your own.

For a moment you feel like you had died and gone to heaven. Utterly relaxed and boneless, you smile dopily until the numbness fades and the overwhelming need to feel him inside you takes over.

You twist in his embrace and pull his face down to crash your lips to his. It’s messy, all tongue and clashing teeth, both blinded by pure desire and pent up frustrations.

You slide a hand between your bodies and glide your hand up and down his length. He’s hard as a rock and seeping at the tip, which you gather in your palm as you continue to jerk him off.

“Shit.” He pulls away with a hiss, eyes closed tight as he presses his forehead to yours. You bite your lip as you take him in, forever impressed of the beauty that is Dean Winchester.

His hand moves to stop you suddenly and he meets your questioning look with pupils blown wide.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep it up. Need to be inside you now.” He all but growls before sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You wrap your legs securely around his waist as he pushes you against the tile. The coolness brings out a gasp that’s soon swallowed by Dean’s all consuming, toe curling kiss.

“Please.” You beg as you pull away for a needed breath. Too worked up to vocalise anything else. Dean understands you though and shifts you higher up the wall, using it as leverage as he frees an arm to guide himself into you.

Your eyes cross as he slowly descends you onto his cock. The stretch is both overwhelming and not enough at the same time as he bottoms out. It’s a feeling you’ve missed gravely and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Holy fuck.” Dean groans deep in his throat at the feel of your tight, warm walls finally wrapped around him. A feeling he’s been starved of for too damn long.

“You feel so good baby.” You praise and cup his cheek to guide his lips back to yours. He slowly slides his way out of you until just his tip remains, before thrusting back in with a sharp snap of his hips.

The action makes you cry out breathlessly, eyes wide in the most painful pleasure. You keep your eyes locked when he does it again, mouth agape in a silent scream with each drag of his length against your sensitive walls.

He builds up a confident rhythm, hitting you in the sweet spot every time, making your toes curl and breathing labour.

“Fuck i’ve missed the feel of you.” You moan particularly loudly when he hits the right spot.

“You’re so tight and wet. Fuck.” Dean groans as he picks up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin, almost overshadowing the patter of the showers spray.

You’re close, you can feel it. Feel it in the way your lower belly clenches and limbs tense as your nerve endings spark with each thrust.

Dean’s close too. His panting breaths making way for the odd growl to slip out as he strains with effort to keep you both up. His own limbs starting to flutter in strength at his impending release.

Just as you’re about to loose it, there’s knock on the door, causing Dean to still and you to bite your lip in attempt to stop a frustrated groan.

“Hey Y/N? Have you seen Dean? I need the keys to the impala.” Sam’s muffled voice carried through the door.

Dean looks livid, but you look at him questioning eyes. ‘What do i say?’

It takes a moment, but Deans irritation fades and a sly smirk replaces it.

“I’m in here Sammy!” Dean calls out and your eyes widen in shock. However, you’re unable to say a thing when he shifts his hips, slowly dragging his cock almost all the way out, before pushing just as slowly back in.

Your mouth drops open and eyes flutter as he repeats the action.

“Wait why are you…” Sam trails off and you almost don’t hear his “oh.” Of realisation.

“Might not wanna traumatise yourself Sammy.” Dean calls out, just before he snaps his hips harshly into you again, and you can’t help but cry out. Your cheeks blush at the fact Sam could hear you.

“Dean!” You scold in a hushed whisper, but he doesn’t stop, making you bite your lip to stop from crying out more. Thankfully you hear Sam’s footsteps quickly retreat.

“I’m done with interruptions.” Dean all but growls before crashing his lips to yours. His hips begin to piston into you at an almost bruising, quickly bringing you both back to the brink. Your cries of pleasure muffle against his lips and your hands tangle in his hair harshly, making him moan.

“Fuck i’m going to cum.” You gasp, head thrown back and back arching as much as was possible in the position you were in.

“Let go baby. I’m right there with you.” Dean pants and you meet his eyes in a silent cry as you tense up. Your orgasm rippling through you like a bolt of electricity.

“Fuuuuck.” Dean quickly follows you with a couple more thrusts. His body tensing as he grunts into your neck, each twitch of his cock as he empties his seed deep inside you, sending little aftershocks through your body.

You’re both breathing hard, even when he pulls back to look at you. Dopy smiles rise on your lips simultaneously, and laughter soon follows. Dean slowly puts you down on shaky legs, but keeps you close as he leans down to claim your lips once more.

It’s slow and passionate and striking you back to life as we speak. The smirk on Dean’s lips is all knowing and you want to smack away his smugness, but you can’t find it in you to make on that promise when his wandering hand cups your aching sex.

“Someone’s a needy girl, ain’t they.” He mumbles between kissing his way down your neck as his thick digits stroke you to life.

You gasp at the sensation, torn between too sensitive and desperate to feel more.

You glide your hand up his broad shoulder and through his damp hair before gripping tight enough to make him hiss. His eyes darken lustfully and you smirk a little at the feel of him twitching against you.

“You have no fucking idea.” You whisper, before pulling his lips to yours.

It’s safe to say Bobby’s water bill paid a price that day.

[supernotnatural2005]

The Great Sam Winchester C*ck Block!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean and you have been desperate for some much needed alone time. However, a certain Winchester keeps getting in the way.

Word Count: 4106

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only! Fluff, Sam is a massive c*ck block (yes that’s a warning!)

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since i posted anything. Life has been wild. But i miss writing so much and have a few WIP. This just happens to be the one i’ve finished! 😅 Just something fun and spicy. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome!

My Masterlist

You sighed, head thrown back against the leather seat, back arched and legs spread wide as Dean scissored two of his thick fingers inside of you.

Soft lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and suckled at the spot behind your ear, which only added to the desperate throb of the walls of your pussy.

Your skin flushed and breathing laboured as he expertly rubbed at that spongey spot inside you, making you gasp and tense at the thrum of pleasure, tingling from the tops of your ears down to the tips of your toes.

The soft praises of; “you’re so wet”, “so beautiful” and “come for me baby”, followed by the lewd sounds of your dripping core against the harsh thrust of his digits, echoed in the small confinements of Baby’s backseat. Resulting in an ecstasy like state of desperation to reach your peak for him.

Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, the material covering his skin all but assaulted by your vice-like grip, as he brought you closer and closer to your impending crash.

You opened your eyes, gaze heated and glazed as you met fiery green orbs, drinking in your wrecked state with satisfaction and pride.

With his thumb now rubbing against your clit, you could feel your body begin to tense. The coil in your lower belly wound tight, ready to just about snap, when something over his shoulder caught your attention.

“Sam!” You gasped in an attempt to warn him. Though in your current state, it came out as more of a gasp of unmeant pleasure. But it had Dean’s fingers stilling instantly, drowning the flame he’d brought to life inside of you.

“What?” The shock was evident in his voice and the same eyes that had been filled with lust just moments ago, now laced with hurt at your outburst of his brother’s name. Made ten times worse at the fact it was whilst he was fingering you into oblivion.

Dread filled you at his harshly retracted fingers and you scrambled to explain before another fire brewed in his eyes, but this time with intent to burn rather than pleasure.

“Oh God, no baby! Sam is coming.” You guided his head in the direction of the other end on the motel’s parking lot, to where Sam was indeed approaching.

Relief flooded him like a cold drink of water quenching one’s thirst in a hot desert. His rapidly beating heart simmered somewhat at the realisation and he welcomed the soothing hand you ran through his short strands as he dropped his forehead to your shoulder.

You felt the rumble of his chuckle before you heard it, finding yourself joining in at the absurdity and worst timing ever of your boyfriend’s baby-bro.

“I guess we’re gonna have to pick this up another time.” He sighed disappointedly, but his eyes held a promise you clung to.

Sam Winchester was many things. A great hunter, empathetic and kind, your best friend. But mostly, he was the most oblivious cock block known to man.

For weeks you and Dean had been trying to have a little alone time. If it wasn’t the motel’s having only one twin room left, or a case taking its tole on you both to the point of pure exhaution, it was Sam’s impeccable timing.

You righted yourself by pulling on your discarded underwear and sleep-shorts, grimacing as the fabric met the mess between your legs.

Dean casually sucked his fingers clean of your juices, making your jaw drop and clit pulse in want.

Noticing your longing stare, he winked and slid a hand beneath his sweat pants to adjust the obvious tent, just in time for Sam to tap on the window.

“What are you guys doing out here? I tried calling you both for the past half hour.” Dean had opened the back seat and stepped out, allowing you to shuffle to the edge of the seat.

“I had a nightmare.” You lied easily as you stepped out of the car as well.

“I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you, so Dean offered to sit with me, calm me down.”

If oscars were awarded for best lie told, you’re sure you’d be up there in the nominees. It wasn’t necessary to lie to Sam but it beat, “your brother was just fingering me in the back of his car because we never have any time alone away from you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sam was sincere and his look sympathetic. It allowed for a shred of guilt to be had.

“Why were you looking for us anyway?” Dean interrupted, voice slightly rough and irritated, although Sam didn’t seem to notice.

“I found a case a couple of miles out. Three victims have turned up dead in the last week, all with their hearts missing. Sherif is calling it a vicious animal attack but, i figures we got ourselves a werewolf.”

Silence.

“And that couldn’t wait until morning.” Dean speaks up first. His agitation clear this time.

“Well, technically it is morning. It’s like five A M.” Sam shrugs like it’s nothing and you internally sigh.

“You’re right, we just lost track of time.” You force a smile and ignore Dean’s pointed look as a sudden plan forms in your mind.

“Let us freshen up and maybe you could grab us some coffee and breakfast? You know, since you’re the only one dressed and all.” You ask sweetly, hoping he takes the bait.

“Yeah sure. I was going to grab us all some breakfast anyway.” Sam offers.

Bingo.

“That’d be great, i’m starving.” You exaggerate with a hand on your stomach. In the corner of your eye, Dean gives you a funny look and it takes everything in you not to smirk.

“Okay, well i’ll see you in ten.” Sam says before making his way across the street toward the 24 hour diner.

Wasting no time, you grab Dean’s hand and roughly pull him with you toward the room.

“Woah, what in the-“ You shut him up with your lips roughly pressing to his once you enter the room. His back hitting the closed door with a dull thud.

“If you think i’m going to wait for God knows how long before i feel you inside me again. You’ve got another thing coming.” You explain in a rush as you tug his plain-black t-shirt over his head.

A smirk forms on his lips at your eagerness and Dean has to admit, it turns him on just how desperate you are.

“Oh, i like the way you think sweetheart.”

-

You sat in the backseat of baby, irritable, uncomfortable and beyond sexually frustrated.

Your attempt to finish what you and Dean had started back in the room was short lived, when Sam returned only 2 minutes later, having forgotten his wallet.

To say you were in a mood was an understatement. And the permanent scowl on Dean’s face and his white knuckling grip on the steering wheel, told you he was right there with you.

In the end, the three of you figured out who the culprit was, or should you say culprits were, relatively quickly. It was a young man, Johnny Turner who was recently turned, which explained the sloppy kills. And you later discovered the pack who’d turned him, hiding out in a cabin just outside of town.

Overall, it was a successful hunt with minimum injuries and you had prevented a young girl from being the fourth victim. But three people had still died and a young man had to spend his last moments of life as a monster he never wanted to be.

You still remember the fear and confusion in his eyes at what he’d done. But then he’d went to attack you and ended up with three silver bullets from Dean’s gun lodged in his chest.

So, when you climbed into bed that night, Dean following shortly after you as Sam lightly snored away on the bed opposite. There were no wandering hands under the covers, working each other up until you were desperate enough to find yourself back in the back seat of baby. Just silence.

All in all, Sam’s case had inadvertently been another giant cock-block in itself.

3 Days Later.

It wasn’t your most classiest moment, but you found yourself knelt on a grubby restroom floor; Dean above you with his jeans and boxers pushed down mid thigh as you took his heavy, achingly hard length into your mouth.

You could be ashamed at how horny you were. That you’d stoop so low as to pushing him into a disgusting bathroom stall; dropping to your knees and blowing him right then and there.

But after a whole day of watching him work on Baby, greased up, sweaty and watching his biceps flex as he adjusted loose bolts and nuts under the hood. It was like dangling a piece of meat in-front of a starving dog. You just had to take a bite.

After being unfairly teased all day, you had all ventured to the local dive in town. Of course, Sam came along, actually wanting to join in for once.

Despite your own sexual frustrations, you’d had a good time. Drunk Sam was a lot of fun and it was nice seeing everyone relaxed and with a smile on their face for once.

However, once Sam’s attention was preoccupied by a pretty brunette; and with a strong bout of liquid courage in your system, you’d taken advantage of the situation and summoned Dean to join you in the restroom.

You knew he was just as worked up as you were. You’d felt as much whilst playing a game pool earlier on in the night, when he’d pressed up against you, not so subtly and let you feel just how much the skirt you’d opted to wear turned him on.

So now here you were, sucking off your boyfriend in the restroom stall of a dive bar, like some horny teenager. But if his moans and grunts as he lightly thrusted his hips intime with the bobbing of your head, told you anything. It was that he was more than on board.

Your panties were beyond soaked and uncomfortable but, Dean’s laboured breath’s and flushed cheeks as you looked up at him; his balls drawing up tight in your palm as you let him fuck into your mouth, a tell tail sign he was close, had you doubling your efforts to get him there.

“Holy shit baby. Right there.” He panted as you breathed deeply through your nose and took him as deep as your gag reflex would allow. The hand holding your hair back tightened, bringing with it a sharp sting of pleasure, making you moan around him.

He was seconds away from his release, when a loud bang interrupted you. It was as if an ice-cold bucket of water had been poured over your heads.

Startled, Dean’s slick cock slipped from your lips as you jumped back in shock. The loud bang was shortly followed by a girly giggle and a mans chuckle.

You looked up at Dean, wide eyed and silently asking if he wanted you to continue, when you heard it.

The stall next you rattled as the couple stumbled inside, the sounds of lips lewdly smacking together and then a voice you’d recognise anywhere, instantly cleared your sex hazed fog and had you as dry as a desert.

It was Sam.

You’ve got to be kidding me, Dean’s look told you.

-

One week later found the three of you pulling into Bobby’s for some much needed R&R.

After a week of non stop hunts, your bruised and beaten body needed at least a long weekend to recover. And the boys were more than inclined to agree.

As soon as your feet hit the gravel outside of Bobby’s house, you sighed in relief. The drive was long and your back, legs and butt ached from the lengthy position held.

“S’good to see you idgits.” Came the gruff greeting from Bobby as he stepped out the front door. You smiled at the term that had always been more out of endearment rather than as an insult.

You were the first to make your way over and fall into his embrace. Bobby always did give the best hugs. You’d missed him, a lot you realised as he gave you a big squeeze.

Although, your wince had him pulling back immediately to assess you with concern.

“Im all good, it’s just been a long week.” You explained truthfully and though he let it go, you could see he wasn’t fully satisfied with your answer.

“Mind if i grab a shower? I need to get the stink of hours being hot-boxed with the most gassiest man alive off of me.” You jab your finger blindly in Sam’s direction and miss his offended look.

Dean however, barks out a laugh to which Sam throws him his signature bitch-face.

“Hey, she’s not wrong man. S’probably all that rabbit food you eat.” Dean shrugs innocently, but is unable to contain his amusement.

“I’m not going to apologise for eating healthy Dean. Wouldn’t kill you to eat a salad once in a while mister, two double cheese burgers with extra bacon for breakfast.” Sam sasses back, mocking Dean’s gravelly voice. And in doing so, starts the endless bickering between the two brothers.

You decide then to make your escape, passing Bobby with a thankful hand on his shoulder and an apologetic look in your eyes as you make your way inside and upstairs toward the bathroom.

You drop your duffle to the floor and rummage through for some clean clothes. Luckily, you find a faded band t-shirt that you’re pretty sure once belonged to Dean and some leggings. It’ll have to do until you can take advantage of Bobby’s washer and dryer.

You’ll have to cook dinner as a thank you, you decide before peeling off your two day old clothes; grimacing slightly at the pain in your overused muscles and possibly bruised ribs.

You turn on the shower, making sure it’s on the verge of scolding, allowing for a billow of steam to encompass the medium sized bathroom, before stepping into the tub.

At first you flinch at warm spray in contrast to your much cooler skin, but quickly melt under the pressure and warmth seeping deep into your bones.

As you stand motionless, the weight of the last few weeks, possibly months, of being tense, unsatisfied and in pain, gradually releases it’s vice-like grip on you and washes away with the muck and grime accumulated on your skin.

Bliss. Thats what this was. Pure unadulterated bliss.

You’re so enraptured with the feeling, you don’t even notice him enter the room. Nor do you hear the shuffling of clothes being removed, or the curtain pulling back for him to step inside behind you.

It’s not until the coolness of his palms makes contact with your hips, do you startle and turn to meet the vibrant green eyes of your intruder.

“You don’t mind if i join you, do you?” Dean asks. As if you had a choice on the matter, as if you’d ever refuse.

You shake your head in both amusement and in answer to his question, and turn back around as he begins to lather his palms up with the body wash you’d brought with you.

A welcoming fruity smell of strawberries invades your sinuses and you soon hum in pleasure as his large, soapy hands glide across your skin. The act is incredibly intimate without the need to initiate into anything more than Dean simply taking care of you.

However, as his slick hands wander to your front, gliding across your stomach and up to lather your breasts. A fire that had been put out one too many times, reignites within you.

You bite your lip and lay your head back against his shoulder as his hands travel back south. Your breathing grows heavier as his seemingly innocent actions spark you to life.

The feel of his smile against the side of your head, tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing though. So as a form of punishment, you subtly press back against him, smiling devilishly at the feel of his hardening length against your lower back.

His breathing shallows as you slowly gyrate your hips back against him and your pussy throbs in need of something, anything.

The famous saying, ‘great minds think alike’ had never proven more true as Dean’s right hand continues its journey, until two of his thick digits part your wet folds.

You gasp as his middle finger begins to slowly circle your clit, causing an electric jolt of pleasure to course through your entire body.

“You’re so wet already baby.” Dean husks in your ear, just as he briefly dips a finger into your dripping hole before returning the coated digit to your clit.

Adding his forefinger, Dean begins to quicken the pace of his fingers and adds pressure onto the pulsing bundle of nerves, making you cry out and twitch and convulse in his embrace.

He holds you tightly to him by wrapping his other arm around your waist, as you shake and your stance falters, gripping onto the arm wrapped around you like a life line.

“Come for me baby.” You hear him all but growl, before you feel his soft lips begin to nip and suck at the sensitive junction between your neck and shoulder. His fingers are vigorous now and the coil wound tight within in you finally snaps.

Everything goes white; your veins like molten lava, fiery hot and melting your bones as the tremors of your well- overdue orgasm course through you.

“Fuuuck.” You can’t help but moan as your tense body slowly becomes like jelly against the strength of your boyfriend. Dean holds you upright as you slowly come to and only loosens his hold when he knows you’re able to stand on your own.

For a moment you feel like you had died and gone to heaven. Utterly relaxed and boneless, you smile dopily until the numbness fades and the overwhelming need to feel him inside you takes over.

You twist in his embrace and pull his face down to crash your lips to his. It’s messy, all tongue and clashing teeth, both blinded by pure desire and pent up frustrations.

You slide a hand between your bodies and glide your hand up and down his length. He’s hard as a rock and seeping at the tip, which you gather in your palm as you continue to jerk him off.

“Shit.” He pulls away with a hiss, eyes closed tight as he presses his forehead to yours. You bite your lip as you take him in, forever impressed of the beauty that is Dean Winchester.

His hand moves to stop you suddenly and he meets your questioning look with pupils blown wide.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep it up. Need to be inside you now.” He all but growls before sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You wrap your legs securely around his waist as he pushes you against the tile. The coolness brings out a gasp that’s soon swallowed by Dean’s all consuming, toe curling kiss.

“Please.” You beg as you pull away for a needed breath. Too worked up to vocalise anything else. Dean understands you though and shifts you higher up the wall, using it as leverage as he frees an arm to guide himself into you.

Your eyes cross as he slowly descends you onto his cock. The stretch is both overwhelming and not enough at the same time as he bottoms out. It’s a feeling you’ve missed gravely and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Holy fuck.” Dean groans deep in his throat at the feel of your tight, warm walls finally wrapped around him. A feeling he’s been starved of for too damn long.

“You feel so good baby.” You praise and cup his cheek to guide his lips back to yours. He slowly slides his way out of you until just his tip remains, before thrusting back in with a sharp snap of his hips.

The action makes you cry out breathlessly, eyes wide in the most painful pleasure. You keep your eyes locked when he does it again, mouth agape in a silent scream with each drag of his length against your sensitive walls.

He builds up a confident rhythm, hitting you in the sweet spot every time, making your toes curl and breathing labour.

“Fuck i’ve missed the feel of you.” You moan particularly loudly when he hits the right spot.

“You’re so tight and wet. Fuck.” Dean groans as he picks up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin, almost overshadowing the patter of the showers spray.

You’re close, you can feel it. Feel it in the way your lower belly clenches and limbs tense as your nerve endings spark with each thrust.

Dean’s close too. His panting breaths making way for the odd growl to slip out as he strains with effort to keep you both up. His own limbs starting to flutter in strength at his impending release.

Just as you’re about to loose it, there’s knock on the door, causing Dean to still and you to bite your lip in attempt to stop a frustrated groan.

“Hey Y/N? Have you seen Dean? I need the keys to the impala.” Sam’s muffled voice carried through the door.

Dean looks livid, but you look at him questioning eyes. ‘What do i say?’

It takes a moment, but Deans irritation fades and a sly smirk replaces it.

“I’m in here Sammy!” Dean calls out and your eyes widen in shock. However, you’re unable to say a thing when he shifts his hips, slowly dragging his cock almost all the way out, before pushing just as slowly back in.

Your mouth drops open and eyes flutter as he repeats the action.

“Wait why are you…” Sam trails off and you almost don’t hear his “oh.” Of realisation.

“Might not wanna traumatise yourself Sammy.” Dean calls out, just before he snaps his hips harshly into you again, and you can’t help but cry out. Your cheeks blush at the fact Sam could hear you.

“Dean!” You scold in a hushed whisper, but he doesn’t stop, making you bite your lip to stop from crying out more. Thankfully you hear Sam’s footsteps quickly retreat.

“I’m done with interruptions.” Dean all but growls before crashing his lips to yours. His hips begin to piston into you at an almost bruising, quickly bringing you both back to the brink. Your cries of pleasure muffle against his lips and your hands tangle in his hair harshly, making him moan.

“Fuck i’m going to cum.” You gasp, head thrown back and back arching as much as was possible in the position you were in.

“Let go baby. I’m right there with you.” Dean pants and you meet his eyes in a silent cry as you tense up. Your orgasm rippling through you like a bolt of electricity.

“Fuuuuck.” Dean quickly follows you with a couple more thrusts. His body tensing as he grunts into your neck, each twitch of his cock as he empties his seed deep inside you, sending little aftershocks through your body.

You’re both breathing hard, even when he pulls back to look at you. Dopy smiles rise on your lips simultaneously, and laughter soon follows. Dean slowly puts you down on shaky legs, but keeps you close as he leans down to claim your lips once more.

It’s slow and passionate and striking you back to life as we speak. The smirk on Dean’s lips is all knowing and you want to smack away his smugness, but you can’t find it in you to make on that promise when his wandering hand cups your aching sex.

“Someone’s a needy girl, ain’t they.” He mumbles between kissing his way down your neck as his thick digits stroke you to life.

You gasp at the sensation, torn between too sensitive and desperate to feel more.

You glide your hand up his broad shoulder and through his damp hair before gripping tight enough to make him hiss. His eyes darken lustfully and you smirk a little at the feel of him twitching against you.

“You have no fucking idea.” You whisper, before pulling his lips to yours.

It’s safe to say Bobby’s water bill paid a price that day.

[supernotnatural2005]

Lost on You - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Welcome to Part 1! You guys have really warmed by heart with all the anticipation for this series, so thank you so much. I think it's going to be a fun ride. 😉

Song Inspo: “Magic” by Olivia Newton-John. And check out the full “Lost on You Playlist” here. There’s going to be lots of ‘80s music in this series!

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: SB being an entitled asshole (strap in for a lot of that), misogyny, bullying, and a “meet cute” of sorts…

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 1: Siren Song

April 3, 1983

“Why the fuck wasn’t I consulted about this?” Soldier Boy groused.

Arthur Cohen, otherwise known as “The Legend,” released a heavy puff of his cigar within the relative privacy of his office. Vought afforded him a great deal of luxuries, at the cost of days like this.

So, he’d offered the supe one of his most coveted Cubans to pacify him. Because true to form, he was edging closer to a temper tantrum by the minute.

“This decision came from on high, my friend,” Arthur said, with a smile that hid his inner anxiousness. He tapped some ash off his cigar with a finger adorned by a gaudy gold ring. “Stan Edgar, Stillwell, even the entire board of directors signed off on this one.”

“I don’t give a fuck who bought into this PR bullshit,” Soldier Boy postured, crossing his arms across his dark green supe suit as he leaned into the plush seat adjacent to Arthur’s desk. He raised a solid boot on the edge of the newly polished mahogany, and then another, crossing them at the ankles. His cigar was balanced between his teeth in the corner of his mouth.

“The last thing we need,” he said, pausing to inhale. Then he took the cigar from his lips to blow out smoke in hot annoyance. “Is another broad on the team.”

Arthur inclined his head. “I understand your concerns.”

“Do you?” Soldier Boy snorted. “Countess is bitch enough to deal with, believe you me.”

Arthur sympathized. He knew Crimson Countess’s attitude well, but he supposed Soldier Boy had license to say so more than anyone else, considering she was his girlfriend.  

“Look, I could give you the numbers: expected profit margins, demographics, etcetera, but you don’t get paid to hear that from me,” Arthur said, with a magnanimous hand gesture and a fair bit of old Jewish charm. “I’m askin’ you to trust me. This girl’s good, okay? Not just a wig and a pair a’ tits. Nah, she’s got talent. Got a set of pipes on her too, my God.”

Soldier Boy gave him a sly look. 

“Not like that,” Arthur said. He shook his head in amusement, but not with the face of a man who hadn’t already thought about the girl’s pretty mouth. He stroked his chin.

“She’s…interesting. Well, you’ll see. If she brings up the ratings the way we hope, we’ll be able to relocate Swatto. Hopefully to Siberia. He’s a fucking PR nightmare waiting to happen.”

“All right, the guy’s a moron, but he’s fucking hilarious,” Soldier Boy said, smirking. “Like one of the three Stooges.”

Yeah. Arthur wondered if that homeless man Swatto almost split open in Central Park after a sneeze thought he was funny. 

“And her powers. Really?” Soldier Boy went on. His brows drew together then, as he frowned. “Sounds like she blew something up someone’s ass to get this far, and it ain’t smoke.”

“Trust me, that’s the real deal too,” Arthur assured.

But he could see that Soldier Boy wasn’t convinced. The supe rolled his eyes and released another puff.

“Anyway. I’m fucking bored. What’s the next project?” he said. Arthur took an unfiltered breath and peeked at the files strewn across his desk.

“Well, Red Thunder is coming out this fall. We’re pretty sure it’s gonna be the blockbuster of the year,” he replied. “After that, we’ll see about writing a sequel.”

If it makes back the millions we spent in production going over budget, thanks to this asshole’s weekly benders, he mentally added.

“I don’t care about a bullshit sequel,” Soldier Boy said dismissively. “I want to do something new.”

“Something new,” Arthur intoned.

The supe raised a brow. Again, the cigar was balanced between his teeth.

“Yeah.”

He really must be bored, Arthur thought, if he actually wants to work.

“All right, let me brainstorm on that for ya,” Arthur said. “Matter of fact, tell you what. Give me ‘til the end of the week. In the meantime, we’ve got the security team monitoring the police scanner for potential saves.”

The supe didn’t look impressed. His brows furrowed, as if he was irritated that he didn’t get an immediate answer, but his slight nod signaled his agreement before he finally got up from his chair. His boots dragged off Arthur’s desk, knocking over a framed picture of his kids with it, and thudded heavily on the ground. He left the office thereafter.

Arthur heaved a breath of exasperation. He didn’t get paid enough for this shit. 

Fucking supes.

But he didn’t dare utter that thought out loud.

It was days before Ben finally crossed paths with the new girl. Not that he’d been giving the idea much thought.

After that day in Arthur’s office, Ben became engrossed in his own devices—namely one of the assistants, Joanna, his stylist, Angela, and Rachel, his maid, after Donna blew him off for dinner for the third night in a row. This time for some tree-hugging conservationist gala of some kind. 

Frigid bitch, he thought, shaking his head. 

On his way to the gym, he passed the T&T Twins gossiping. Just the sight of them irritated him. Tommy was a kiss-ass, and Tessa shared a brain cell with her brother, so she wasn’t saying much for her gender either. 

“Would you pick your tongue off the floor already! You’re so disgusting,” Tessa said, shoving her brother.

“What? She’s fucking hot,” Tommy snapped in defense. When they finally saw Ben coming, Tessa piped down with her attempt at a “demure” greeting.

Tommy came in hot with a too bright voice and a, “Hey, boss!”

Ben gave them a stoic nod, fully intending to blow past them.

“Have you met the new girl yet?” Tommy asked, with an unmistakable pop of his brows and indecent smile.

Ben nearly rolled his eyes. “No.”

And don’t fucking care, his tone conveyed. He continued on his way to the gym. Behind him, the twins gave each other a look, and a shrug.

When he got to the gym, Journey was playing overhead. Ben frowned as he saw Black Noir working out by himself. The young man wasn’t wearing his suit. Instead, he was bare-chested and running on a treadmill with a nearly 90-degree incline, sweat glistening on his skin. 

Fucking show off, Ben thought. 

Then there was Gunpowder, his young sidekick, practicing his archery. Ben went to him and slapped a hand on his back in greeting, none too gently. The teen stumbled, his arrow landing into the wall instead of the target. 

“Spot me at the bench, ey kid,” said Ben. “And grab me a towel while you’re at it.”

“Uh, sure,” Gunpowder replied, ducking his head as he went. Ben got settled at his usual bench press machine, sliding his back down the thin leather cushion. He waited for the kid to add on his fifty-pound weights on either side, until it reached two hundred pounds. That was just the warm-up. 

“You met the new girl yet?” Ben asked, after he began lifting his first rep. Gunpowder stood behind his head.  

“No, sir,” he said. “Haven’t seen her yet.”

“I haven’t either,” said Noir. He’d come over on his way to the showers, regaining his breath all the while. Ben gave him a sharp side-eye.

“Did I fucking ask you?” he said. 

Noir paused. He hid his frown behind a stoic front, since he didn’t have his mask to do it for him. He toweled off his face and chest as he left the gym. 

Ben shook his head, but he never broke stride on the bench press. 

You seemed to be mysterious. 

Barely anyone had seen you, and you hadn’t gone out of your way to ingratiate yourself with every member of the team, like Ben would’ve expected. Donna had set him in her sights on her very first day.

With fake demure in her hazel eyes, a flick of her long red hair over her shoulder, and a sultry smile, she’d let him take her hand and bring it up to his lips for a gentlemanly kiss. 

That same night, she’d accepted his invitation up to his suite and let him do some very ungentlemanly things. Ben smirked at the memory as he made his way down Vought Tower’s infinite hallways. She sure knew her way around some kinky shit.  

And she still did, the little minx. She’d just been putting the freeze on his balls lately, for whatever her reasons were this time. He didn’t pretend to care or keep track at this point. 

If people only knew what a royal pain Crimson Countess was.

Ben was only taken out of his thoughts when he heard someone singing in the breakroom, gently, but beautifully. He couldn’t make out the words though. He stopped and leaned inside the doorway, just to see who it was. It was early enough in the morning that he was surprised anyone but him was awake.

You were standing there at the counter, making some coffee from the percolator. Soft and dulcet notes fell from your lips in some kind of lullaby. Quirking a brow, the oddness of it managed to draw Ben’s steps into the kitchen. You were wearing a leather supe suit that molded to your every curve, not unlike Donna’s, except yours was black with violet trim lines.

You eventually noticed him with a smile.

“Good morning, sir.”

Ben gave you a charming grin, blatantly eying you from breast to toe before he noted that the coffee had finished percolating. 

"Hey there, sweetheart,” he said. “Pour me a cup, would ya?" 

You did so, and he admired the graceful movements of your hands, and the sweet sound of your voice as you continue to hum to yourself. 

"You're a little crooner, aren't you?" he asked, taking the plain white coffee mug from you. 

When your hand brushed his, he felt it.

Your power.

It threatened to overtake him, drawing you into him like the crash and current of a tidal wave, where he couldn’t help but be pulled undertow. There in that darkness, he craved your warmth as well as your body. The thought, the need gripped him at his core… 

He wanted you to devour him, body and soul.

And he finally registered that your eyes were glowing violet, along with your knowing smile. 

Then you blinked. The violet haze was gone, along with your hold on his mind. 

You went back to sipping your coffee as if nothing had just happened. Ben faltered, mentally and physically as he was forced to grip the counter. He even had to catch his breath as his mind reeled from the loss of connection. 

He covered his unbalance with a steely, angry frown. What the fuck just fucking happened?

He looked at you harder than before, drawing himself to his full height and towering over you. Still, you didn’t seem all that intimidated.

“What the hell did you just do?” he growled.

Your knowing, easy smile remained. 

“Nothing,” you replied. “Just a little smoke.”

Ben’s eyes widened.

“Sounds like she blew something up someone’s ass to get this far, and it ain’t smoke.”

How the hell had you heard about that?

He quirked a brow, but you just sipped your coffee with a gentle slurp. Your gaze moved away from him as you went to the fridge to take out a carton of eggs.

“Want some breakfast? I’m thinking of making some eggs, sunny side up,” you said.

Ben’s hand clenched at his side, but then, he forced himself to relax. Or at least, to look relaxed. You had some fucking audacity to try toying with him…but he had to admit, you were something new.

Interesting.

“What’s your name?” he asked, in a tone that demanded.

“Sirena,” you answered. Your superhero name, which he’d already known when Stan Edgar told him about you a week ago.

Ben’s frown deepened, but he reminded himself to retain some charm. He took your chin between his fingers. His grip was light, but his green eyes were intense, and focused on you. 

“No. Your real name, sweetheart,” he said, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

You blinked, but you obliged him with your name, and a smile that edged at flirtation.

“What’s yours?” you returned.

He had to smirk. He knew you knew full well who he was.

“Call me Ben,” he said.

Three Days Ago…

You tried not to be completely overwhelmed by the sight of this huge tower as you pulled your suitcase behind you. Vought-American was an institution of superhero production, and Payback was the face of it all. The absolute pinnacle.

I still can’t believe they chose me, you thought, but you tried not to let that show. You needed to make it seem like you knew what you were doing. You belonged here, and you were seizing this chance.

Madelyn Stillwell, the head of Superhero Public Relations, personally greeted you at the gate and showed you up to your room. However, you’d barely gotten a chance to step inside and look around before her pager went off. She wore a certain smile when she saw the number on the screen. She tossed a strand of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and glanced up at you.

“Sorry, sweetie. I have an appointment to get to, but the directory is there on your desk if you need anything. Feel free to get comfortable,” she said, gesturing at you with her pager in hand. “I’ll be back in an hour or so to give you a tour of the building.”

“Okay, thank you so—”

The door closed behind her before you could even finish your sentence. That deflated you a little, but you tried not to let that small exchange bring you down. Your apartment was huge. Or at least, it was much bigger than the shoebox you left in the Village, let alone the Brooklyn brownstone you grew up in, sharing with two other families on each floor.

You hefted your suitcase onto the bed and began to unpack your clothes, makeup, and toiletries. 

You also took out the only framed picture you had—one that housed your parents and your older brother Chris. You were both grown already, but in this picture, you were barely twelve years old. That little girl didn’t know that her entire world was about to change, when her powers manifested for the first time. 

That thought did succeed in dimming your mood for a moment, but you sighed and set the frame down on your new dresser. You’d have to remember to call Chris. His son was turning four years old in a few weeks. 

Though your attention shifted to a black shape in the corner of your eye. It was a garment bag hanging on the closet door. You went over and unzipped it, revealing your new super suit. It was all black leather and violet accent lines down the sides, along the collar, and down between the breasts in a V-shape. It was strategic to accentuate curves and bust. 

You whistled lowly. It was beautiful, but Jesus did it look tight. 

“Wow,” you remarked, trying out the zipper up and down. “They really like their leather, huh?”

Still, you itched to try it on. After a few minutes of struggling and wiggling, you managed to get into the suit. They’d taken exact measurements, so it did look good. You felt like a new person…a superhero.

You smiled at yourself in the bathroom mirror. But then, you forced the smile off your face and shook your head, schooling your expression into something less doe-eyed and pathetic. More in control.

There you are, Sirena, you thought. You had long ago trained yourself with that enigmatic look. You knew how it felt on your face. The easiest way for you to get what you wanted in this world, the way you’d gotten this far, was with this exact face.

Only show them what you want them to see.   

Almost two hours later, you’d finished unpacking your belongings and explored every corner of your new beautiful apartment, but still, Miss Stillwell wasn’t back yet.

You checked your watch and hummed to yourself. Your curiosity getting the best of you, you decided to leave your apartment and explore the tower by yourself. You took off the suit as well, so you could make your way around more anonymously. You were sure no one really knew who you were yet. 

Your theory was proven true when you walked through the halls, passing Vought employees without even a blink in your direction. That was okay though. Soon enough, all these people would know your face, as well as your name. 

You reached one of the top floors, where you thought you remembered The Legend’s office was supposed to be (according to the directory). Maybe you could meet him and get a jump start on your schedule.

You stopped short, however, when an office door slid open. Out came a slightly disheveled Miss Stillwell. Her blouse was hastily tucked into her gray pencil skirt, and strands of her blonde hair were a bit frizzy as they brushed her shoulders, as if she’d combed them down with her fingers. You plastered yourself to a wall around the corner, only peeking around after she passed by.

Your brows popped up incredulously when you read the name plate beside the door she just came out of.

Stan Edgar…holy shit. His signature was on my contract!

Along with Arthur Cohen, or The Legend, as Stillwell had told you when she welcomed you in. He was the Senior Vice President of Hero Management, so who the hell was Stan?

Well, whoever he was, he was giving it to the head of PR.

Okay then. You shook your head and continued on your way. At the end of the hall, you finally found the right office. You were about to open the door, when you heard male voices coming from inside—one older and dry, and the other deep and strong.

You reached out with your awareness and allowed your powers to engage, likely making your eyes glow with a violet hue.

Sure enough, you sensed two men in the room. And as the voices raised, you recognized one of them. It was unmistakable; you’d been taking the time to binge all of his movies for the past month, ever since you auditioned to get into Payback.

Soldier Boy. 

A smile spread across your face. For a moment, you were incredibly excited…until you actually heard what he was saying.

“The last thing we need is another broad on the team.”

Your mouth fell open in shock as your brows drew together. You carefully pressed yourself to the door and kept listening.

“And her powers. Really?” he said. “Sounds like she blew something up someone’s ass to get this far, and it ain’t smoke.”

“Trust me, that’s the real deal too,” Arthur assured.

You glared at the door furiously, as if you could burn lasers out of your eyes. You crossed your arms, but you breathed evenly as you strived to keep your emotions contained. 

Control, you reminded yourself. With another deep breath, you managed to let go of your ire, but the more you listened to the conversation, the more impossible that became. You turned away from the door and made clipped strides down the hall.

You knew you had to tread carefully here. You’d heard some of the real stories about Payback, because you’d taken the time to listen. You weren’t about to enter Vought Tower without having some idea of what you were getting into, and you knew you’d have to prove yourself as the rookie on the team. You just hadn’t expected their leader to be such a chauvinistic asshole. 

Though inwardly, you snorted. Well, the guy is from the ‘40s. Best generation, indeed.

You rolled your shoulders and shook it away, like water off your proverbial feathers. Your mouth set in a firm line as you held your head high.

The game begins, you thought.

For the next few days, you watched. You studied each member of your new “team” as you encountered them, and you quickly realized that this team wasn’t much of one. 

They looked out for themselves, and bickered amongst themselves, in the case of the TNT Twins. Crimson Countess had given you a lovely, polite face that still somehow mocked you when she walked away, along with the bounce of her red hair. 

Your powers didn’t allow you to sense or read women, but you recognized a diva when you saw one.

Clearly, she was used to being the woman on top, especially as Soldier Boy’s girlfriend. You wanted to roll your eyes at the thought. From what you’d heard (and the masculine cologne you smelled on Arthur’s assistant Joanna yesterday), Soldier Boy got around. His relationship with Countess was either very open, or it was well-crafted PR.

You had another growing, unsettling thought. The more information you gathered just by observing the team, the more you had a hard time believing that you were ever going to fit in around here. 

It was only your third day in the Tower though, you reminded yourself, as you got dressed for the day in your suit. That kind of negativity wouldn’t serve you here. 

So you left your apartment in search of coffee and breakfast at the breakroom and lounge area, exclusive to the team. You supposed these guys were either late sleepers, or they got their food brought to them. You were relieved to find the room empty, and you let out a deep breath.

Remember why you’re here, you thought. It’s not about you. 

It had never been about you. 

You rummaged through the cupboards in search of the one thing that would perk you up—good coffee. You found it near the top shelf and began to prep the coffee maker. You hummed to yourself while your hands moved on autopilot. The tune strengthened, deepening and then sweetening on higher trills. 

Suddenly, your spine prickled. Your mind buzzed faintly with awareness as you sensed a presence.

It was familiar and overwhelmingly male, with heavy, confident steps coming down the hall. You tilted your head and frowned. 

Soldier Boy, that asshole. 

But then, your lips curved upwards. This could be fun. 

When Soldier Boy walked into the breakroom, he noticed you. You pretended not to realize he was there, but you felt the heat of his gaze roaming over your body. You wanted to sigh. Predictable.

Right then, you made a quiet, firm decision. Today, this man was going to learn your name. And he wasn’t going to forget it. 

You turned to him with a smile when he approached—the most pleasant one you could manage.

“Good morning, sir.”

AN: Game, set, match. 😘💚 As many of you know, this story is expanding on this Soldier Boy imagine, which I wrote almost a year ago now. In the back of my mind though, I always thought this idea could be more someday.

So please let me know what you thought of Part 1! I'm so excited for you guys to see what's coming up next...

Next Time:

“Countess, I’m not trying to replace you. I’m not trying to take anything from you.”

“Except my boyfriend,” she shot back. Finally she turned her head towards you with cool disdain. “You think I didn’t see you flirting with him last night at the afterparty?”   

You rolled your eyes, though you hid a sliver of embarrassment. You should’ve known she’d spot that.

“He approached me, okay?” you said. Maybe you were about to let your pettiness to get the best of you, but you couldn’t help it. You smiled slyly. “And from what I hear, I’m the least of your worries. Looks like Ben has quite the appetite.”

The cracks of Countess’s cool façade finally broke through to anger.

Coming next Friday, 8/09!

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[supernotnatural2005]

— mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix

SUMMARY : aka. part II of mattel. finally, in the privacy of your home, you find the willpower to make the afternoon all about dean (as you’d originally hoped) when he tries to distract you from your plans. 

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), 0.5 mL of angst, pure filth mostly, fluffy as well tho, edging, switches all around, body appreciation as subtext lmao, fingering, overstimulation, unprotected piv (I’m scared of germs, you should be too), rough sex, biting, scratching?, oral (m. receiving), begging, squirting, idk hot and sweaty and wet sex honestly cause why the heck not?! 

WORD COUNT : 5.0k

A/N :  the title is from a muse song. this fills the biting square for my @jacklesversebingo card. Inspired by Bullet for My Valentine’s Scream Aim Fire album. Also by the reel on instagram for “riding” tips 🤣

DEAN’S POV 

When you playfully made your way into the house, he allowed his previous insecurity to grip his heart so it clenched while his stomach sank unpleasantly. 

You seemed far too happy, excited even, for him to be ruining your mood. 

But all he could think of was this morning when he was rushing you to get dressed. When he got to the wardrobe, he froze as his mind instantly scanned through the shirts he knew you both had inside, either folded nearly in stacks or hanging on the sturdy metal bar inside. 

Truth was, part of him felt guilty and his stomach sank every time he saw some old shirts of his you’d stolen years back. He typically found it hot when you wore them, but sometimes the way they fit on you made him feel self conscious about his weight. Especially when he could tell when you wore his newer clothes because of how much bigger it fit on your body. 

You’ve never made any comments about his body or his weight or the amount of food he eats or the lack of activity he engages in now. But he knows. Sam teases him about it, he laughs wryly, but Sam doesn’t seem to notice that those comments make him uncomfortable. Sure, back then it didn’t matter what Sam said about the food he ate because he didn’t notice the change in his body. He was constantly hunting or going hungry for large periods of time when they were stuck far away from society and only relied on snacks to stave off their hunger…

He decided to slip on last night’s clothes, hoping to hide his body from himself, from you, from his brother. From anyone who knew him when he was fit and toned and hard… God… he should’ve listened when those chicks told him he had a “dad-bod”.

He had no idea why he couldn’t stop spiralling now. 

When he got to the entrance of the house, he shut the door behind him and locked it, taking a deep breath as his dick began to soften due to his sour mood. He found your ankle boots next to the entrance and quickly discarded his own shoes and placed them next to yours.

His mind went back to anything that would indicate that you had noticed or even hated his body. Even though he had nothing negative to think back to, he felt awful. Suddenly, he could feel every inch of extra skin and he squirmed uncomfortably. 

He saw your discarded dress in the hallway and he found that he couldn’t help smiling.

He could spend all his life wondering why or how you still found him attractive, but that would be a shameful amount of time wasted. You were so beautiful and you were right here ready for him, loving him in more ways and more intensely than he thought he deserved. 

So he decided to just appreciate that you liked, no, loved him at all and quickly washed his hands with soap in the bathroom before entering your shared bedroom where you were laying like a model on the bed. 

Your face was turned to the window, to the drawn curtains and the sunlight that glided over your smooth skin. Your arm was raised above your head, in the pillows, and your body was covered in the red lingerie set that had caught his attention at the sex shop. To see it on your body was driving him insane. 

He noticed the shaky expansion and deflation of your ribcage with each breath you took. Your knees were bent, feet flat on the bed, thighs pressed together tightly, and then you turned to face him. Your lashes fluttered and you smiled when you saw him standing there, dumbstruck and in awe.

You spoke his name like a siren and he moved to get closer to you, the tension your sensuality began filling the room aroused him. His heart was pounding excitedly in his chest, and while some of the blood flooded up to his face the way it always did, most of it ran down south. And your voice did nothing but intensify how horny and desperate he was starting to feel all over again.

He stood at the foot of the bed and smirked down at you and you parted your thighs just to watch him curiously from between your legs with your brow raised expectantly.

He lifted only one knee onto the bed and reached for your hip to drag you all the way down. Your laughter filled him with delight, but when he slid his hand down your side to get a good look at you with your hair haloed around your head on the sheets, your seductive gaze seized him and his heart nearly stopped from how fast it was beating. You bit your lip in anticipation and reached for his shirt, quietly urging him to remove it.

“Please,” you murmured. He pulled the t-shirt over his head and threw it to the side. Hoping to be ignored, he leaned over you, his warm breath fanned over your neck and he relished the quiet gasp you released before he even pressed his lips softly to your pulse.

Your hands instantly threaded through his hair and he let you guide him off your skin, where he could feel the heavy thud of your heartbeat. You whispered his name against his lips like a prayer and he closed the distance between the two of you like a merciful god responding to your silent plea with tenderness. 

You were quick to bite his lips when he refused to give you anything more than an innocent kiss. He smirked against your mouth, inhaling sharply at your enthusiasm. Your tongue pushed past the playfully-stubborn lock of his lips and the sound you made once you tasted him made his cock twitch inside his sweat pants.

You became more impatient, he could barely catch up with you. His mind was dazed from your kiss alone, but your hands made a mess in his hair, tugging with desperation, eliciting deep moans from him. Your hips rolled upwards, your hands released their tight grip on his hair so you could dig your fingernails into his bare shoulders, needing—more than anything—to find friction. He groaned into your mouth and moved away panting, his lips swollen and tingling from your greedy mouth.

He took your hands far gentler than you’d handled him and pinned them above your head, his hand easily locked around your wrists and you bit your lip. You leered up at him when he placed himself closer between your legs.

“Is there something you need, sweetheart?” He teased, placing his hand flat on your stomach, nearly covering the entirety of the surface.

“Dean,” you whined, laughing breathily, “don’t do this.” He frowned dramatically at your refusal—playfulness guiding his actions—and tested your resolve by pressing his thumb against your clit over the wet lace of your new underwear. Your instant gasp at the softest touch thrilled him.

“Already so wet for me,” he murmured, a furious heat rushing up his face.

“Yeah, you didn’t feel that in the car?” 

He leaned over you again, nipped at your breast above the cup of your lace bra in retaliation, and slowly began to pull your underwear down your legs. He felt your hands twist in his grasp when he brought his lips around your nipple over the scratchy lace, you squirmed beneath him, impatiently attempting to kick your underwear off with his help.

“Need you so bad,” you whispered without being prompted to say anything. He smiled against your chest and threw your underwear away from your body with a snap of his wrist. 

“Oh, baby, I know,” he whispered empathetically, his eyes deeply gazing into yours as he slid his hand up the front of your body to pull down the cups of your bra so your breasts spilled out. 

He knew you saw that he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted instantly. Your knees pressed into his sides, your back arched when he breathed against your hardened nipple, and you struggled against his grip on your hands. You never asked him to stop, you only begged for more, so he wrapped his lips around your nipple and played with the other until you were moaning wantonly and begging shamelessly for him to fuck you.

“Please, tell me… you’ll let me cum,” you gasped, watching him intently as he detached his puffy lips from your now-slick and sensitive nipples. 

“Of course,” he murmured and pushed a finger inside you. You gasped, his lips touched yours, and he began curling his finger inside you, relishing in the feeling of it slipping into you without resistance.

He could feel the spread of your legs, the impatient wiggle of your hips, the pulse of your core around his fingers whenever he brushed over your g-spot. His cock ached as you panted and murmured his name in a quiet plea, your breathlessness made his stomach clench and he was enthralled by the sight of you, flushed and needy—all for him. 

He released your wrists to palm himself over his sweatpants, groaning and grateful that there was nothing underneath stopping him from feeling some pleasure as he admired you. He just couldn’t help himself with your shameless responsiveness. Your hands flew to his wrist and he looked down to watch your frantic grip near where his glistening finger was emerging from your warmth. You were something else entirely today. He closed his eyes momentarily, revelling in the image of you that remained behind his lids as he rubbed at his cock, and added a second finger inside you to scissor you open carefully when his eyes fluttered open once more.

He regarded you as you panted, your lips parted and your eyes closed. He bit his lip, parted your folds and flicked your slippery clit with his thumb watching your body arch and your hips buck. 

"That's it, you’re such a good girl," he praised, his voice husky.

His eyes flickered up to your face, but you were already watching him with your brows drawn together in concentration and your lips parted to release every tender moan that he pulled out of you. His heart lurched at your flushed state and you bit your lip hard, struggling to catch your breath. Your wide eyes swallowed him whole and then they fluttered shut for a moment; he knew what was coming.

Your walls spasmed around his fingers and your body shook when your orgasm finally vibrated through you. “Dean… fuck-fuck-fuck… fuck,” you implored, somehow becoming more wet around his fingers. Your hands moved up to his forearm, your fingertips traced the way his muscles flexed as he brushed against your g-spot repetitively, and you shuddered as you kept his unmoving fingers inside you after the most intense part of your orgasm passed.

“Fuck… so needy today,” he said with hushed astonishment. He looked between your legs with a lewd curiosity to watch your pussy flutter around his fingers. He chewed on his lip and experimentally continued to slowly rub at your clit until it became too much for you. Your pussy clamped down tightly around him and you started to guide his wrist away from you so his fingers slipped out, too.

While you caught your breath, he played with your sticky release and sucked his two fingers clean of the drying slick. Your tired eyes landed on him and you still smiled, maybe he could call your huff a laugh with the way your shoulders shook. 

“Do you want me to fuck you, too, now?” He uttered quietly, mostly to tease you. Still, as he waited for you to answer, he pulled down his grey sweats and stepped out of them swiftly. He moved back between your legs before he could miss a single second of your blissful glow and waited with a patient smile as you ogled him as shamelessly as he was doing to you.

"Please, Dean," you moaned, arms thrown up with your hair to grab the sheets hard. He smirked at you and you lifted your hips invitingly, causing his cock to twitch against your thigh. He cussed impatiently as he grabbed your hip over the red garter belt and teased your swollen clit with his cock, mostly enjoying the way your slick felt along the length of him. “Please… fuck me already. I need it, Dean,” you whimpered impatiently, pressing your ankles against the back of his thighs so he could give you what you wanted.

He considered continuing the torture, but decided against it, pleased by the desperation contorting your beautiful features the longer he played with you. 

"Okay,” he hummed and slammed his cock into you, his fingers digging into your hips on both sides now. Your gasp made his head light, his cock throbbed inside you, and he pulled out slowly to feel every inch of you before shoving himself back in with a satisfied groan. Your pussy pulsed to adjust to him, but you were still slick inside from your orgasm, and every thrust felt deliciously smooth. 

He watched you grip the sheets in tighter fists to brace yourself against the ruthless snap of his hips. His eyes trailed down, noticing the faster rise and fall of your chest as your lascivious eyes drifted lower, slowly moving down his chest and his stomach, and finally down to where his cock was ramming inside of you. His fingers pressed deeper into your hips, moulding your flesh like clay, struggling to keep his orgasm at bay.

He brought one of his hands away from your hip, reaching over to your sensitive clit, and stroked around it lazily—hoping to bring you to the edge of your second orgasm. When your body spasmed and you whimpered a plea, he knew he could get you there again. 

“Please,” you gasped, pulling hard at the sheets.

“Anything for you," he promised breathily, continuing to fuck into you as he circled your clit faster. Each snap of his hips made you moan, and you squirmed restlessly—sensitive and overstimulated from his touch, but somehow needing more. 

He leaned over you to kiss you deeply and you gripped his arms instinctively after releasing the sheets as he caged you in with his arms and swallowed your sounds with his fierce kiss. Your nails dug into the taut flesh of his arms and his stomach flipped at your desperate attempts to restrain yourself. He smirked against your mouth, his thrusts became slow and shallow. You kissed him back firmly, breathing unevenly against his lips when he parted to breathe, meeting his thrusts as best as you could, uselessly trying to gain control.

He buried his face near the crook of your neck, breathing heavily and moaning softly in your ear. He groaned your name at the instantaneous clench of your walls at his closeness. You sighed his name, hands flexing on his arm before your nails bit back down on his flesh again, sending electric pleasure through his body. Dean bit down hard on your shoulder, muffling his heated groans against your soft flesh. You moaned in surprise and your pussy squeezed around his cock again. 

"Gonna come again, sweetheart?" He teased, licking at the bite mark and began rubbing relentlessly at your clit. He heard the hitch in your breath and moved his mouth further over your shoulder to bite down on you again. 

He loved your reaction to it.

“Wait!” You begged suddenly, comically—as if you’d just remembered you left the stove on. Your hand locked around his wrist to stop him from stimulating your clit. Your legs came loose from his waist. Sudden concern possessed him to pull out of your wet heat with a whimper that made him turn scarlet red, but a warning tingle flared up his spine at the loss of your body’s heat. 

He felt deceived by the grin on your face, but you began to climb up the bed with a devious glint in your eyes that made him grin as playfully as you were. 

"Sweetheart, please, let me fuck you," he laughed breathily, crawling up the bed after you. You chuckled and threw the pillows out of the way.

"Who’s needy now?" you taunted, grabbing his shoulders to make him take your spot on the bed before he could settle between your legs again. 

He lifted a brow, unaware of your intentions, and huffed indifferently—defiant, but he still obeyed and sat against the headboard. You circled your arms around his neck after climbing into his lap to give him a kiss while his hands played thoughtlessly with the lace of the garter belt on your hips. 

You weaved your fingers through his hair, sending shivers along his body, and tugged gently at the strands in your grasp to part from his mouth. He bit his lip, watching you through heavy eyes clouded with lust. Your playful smile made him smile reflexively, and then you disappeared to mouth kisses along his jawline and neck. His eyes fluttered shut and his head leaned back—gently hitting the wall—giving you more flushed skin to kiss. He moaned quietly as you licked and kissed at the vein carrying his pulse and your hips rolled forward instinctively at the sound.

Your mouth moved lower down his chest with hot and wet kisses that made his skin tingle with fervour to feel you closer. Your weight shifting off his lap made his eyes open slowly, and was greeted with the pretence of your innocent gaze before you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick. His heart skipped a beat, his cock jerked in your grasp, waiting in anticipation before you squeezed and slowly slid your hand up from the base to the tip. Your eyes flickered down just as a drop of precum leaked out of the tip.

Your satisfied hum flustered him, but he was used to it. Used to the way you licked your kiss-swollen lips at the mere sight of his leaking dick when you got your hands on him, readying him for your mouth or your pussy. To him it felt more like you wanted him at your mercy, throbbing red and hot before you finally gave him the mercy of pleasure and release.

“Shit,” he hissed, watching you pump his cock once, twice, and a third time, using every drop of his precum to languidly slide your hand along his length. “Please.” His hips rose from the bed and your response was a gentle laugh that made heat flare up his face. The pace of your hand remained infuriatingly slow and your tight grip drew thick droplets of precum so he almost felt as wet as you were. 

You had him just like you wanted, throbbing and red from your teasing hands, brushing the pads of your fingers to massage every sensitive area you could find on his dick. After uselessly begging for you to go faster, after pleading for release, you kissed your way down his soft stomach. He held his breath, watching intently as your mouth drew nearer to his cock. 

He squirmed when you breathed against him, your lips curved to a smirk, but his mouth was open, panting heavily and waiting hopelessly for the touch of your lips against his length. 

“Hot,” you whispered against his dick, and slowly, delicately licked the leaking tip with your hand wrapped loosely at the base. He sighed breathily and grunted shortly after you swirled your tongue around the tip to swipe away precum. Before he could form the words in his mind, your whole mouth engulfed his cock. 

You moved your head down and his hands found the soft strands of your hair, gripping tightly in surprise, then to guide the speed himself. Groans tumbled from his lips and he shoved away all his embarrassment when your humming vibrated through his cock and made him whimper. You swallowed, your throat tightened around him and he hissed a curse, pushing your head down and pulling your hair up faster. 

He dared to look down at you, through the haze of lust, the sight of you in tears with your reddened cheeks, and redder lips made his cock throb in your mouth. 

“Holy fuck,” he moaned, pulling you up by your hair to let his cock fall from your mouth. A string of saliva and precum connected your mouth to the tip as you sniffled and blinked away tears. “I need you. Get up here, sweetheart,” he begged hoarsely, unravelling his fingers from your hair to guide you up with his hand on your jaw. 

You licked your lips, released your firm grip on his dick, and allowed him to wipe your tears away as you moved back up his body with your knees on either side of his waist. 

He eagerly pulled you in for a kiss, his enthusiasm seeping through the passion of his kiss. He momentarily allowed himself to get lost, to gratefully lick the taste of himself from your mouth, and let his hands wander to pull the cups of your bra back down. Your tits spilled out of the lace and he thoroughly pinched and plucked at your nipples until he felt you take hold of his cock again and stroked him a few times. 

He drew back from the kiss breathlessly, watched you line his dick up with your pussy before carefully sinking down on him completely. His eyes fluttered shut, his hands fell to your waist, and a growly sound rumbled through his chest. 

“Mmm, fuck,” you moaned against his lips, trailing your hands from his wrists to forearms. Your forehead dropped to his gingerly as you raised yourself up so just the tip remained inside you, then slid back down gradually. His grip on your waist became stronger when you broke away from him to enjoy the sensation of having him inside you. “Ah, fuck…” you murmured, grinding down on him to push his cock as far as it could go into you. 

He choked on a moan, on the breath that was cut off by the feeling of you rolling your hips down on him leisurely. He squirmed beneath you, watching you get lost in the torturous pace you found pleasure in. Your head lolled back and your hair gracefully followed the movement shortly after. Susurrations of his name bled from between your lips. Your hands were secured tightly on his arms, pulling him closer to you. 

Pleasure rippled through him. 

He leaned forward to suck marks and press open-mouthed kisses over your breasts. Your hands abandoned his arms to bury your fingers in his hair instead, arching your back to push your chest closer to his mouth. You shuddered as his breath cooled your fiery skin and tugged at his hair, undulating your hips against his. 

He moved his mouth up your chest to bite at your neck. His teeth sank gently into your tender flesh, grazing along the thudding vein, and his tongue tasted the salty tang of your sweat. Your pussy squeezed around him in delight and he moaned against your throat, exasperatedly digging his fingers into your waist. 

"Please… move," he whispered gravelly, trying to take control of the way you moved by sliding his palms down to your hips and holding on tight.

“I am,” came your breathy response. The amusement in your voice made him whine. 

“N… not like that.” His voice was rough and you bit your lip at his frustration. 

Straight away, you finally lifted yourself up his cock, unhurriedly making him feel every bit of the heat and wetness that coated him. You dropped back down at the same frustratingly slow speed. His eyes fluttered shut, his brows pinched together, and he licked his lips before biting down on it. Again, you rose from his lap and steadily sat back down. Your breath tickled his jaw, “like that?” 

Your voice made his stomach flutter.

“Faster,” he begged, his throaty voice revealing his impatience with your drawn-out riding. You nipped at his jaw and only barely picked up the pace. His eyes fluttered open when you cupped his red cheeks, staring at his contorted face. “Please,” he mumbled, pressing his fingers into your hips. 

You laughed breathlessly and dipped down to kiss him, but he knew that was you denying him. Your teeth sank into his lip and he growled at you, throbbing and achingly close to finishing. If only you’d speed up, he could finally get there. 

You sucked at his lip before pushing your tongue into his hot mouth, inhaling each other’s breaths. His head felt light again and his stomach tightened, brimming with bliss, but you ignored his sobbing pleas by silencing them with your tongue, and continued to languidly ride his cock. 

But he’d had enough. 

He flattened his feet on the bed and snapped his hips upwards before you could even process or halt what he was doing. You cried out in surprise and uselessly attempted to hold onto his shoulders as he ruthlessly shoved his dick upwards into your pussy. He slammed you down with his bruising grip on your hips, moving you down on him faster, and obscene sounds began to burst from his lips. 

You inhaled sharply, clasping onto his broad shoulders to no avail until you defeatedly collapsed on him so he could have complete control of the rhythm. He still had enough awareness outside his pleasure to grin to himself as you moaned and gasped his name into his ear. You clamped down around his dick and began to meet his thrusts as he’d been doing for you. 

"You fuckin’ tease," he panted each word between heavy breaths, whenever your hips met his. Even nestled into you as deep as he could be, he yearned to be closer to you, so he tangled his fingers in your hair and crashed your lips down with his, sure—now—that you wouldn’t change the pace he’d set. Your teeth clashed with his, but he couldn’t care less as his cock pulsed inside you, overflowing with pleasure. "I'm so fuckin’ close, baby," he gasped gruffly into your mouth.  

“Please… come, Dean,” you breathed out your plea and he released a low moan, your words making something warm bloom in his chest. Heat trickled down his body and he couldn’t stop the bubbling of his orgasm, especially not with you kissing him so intensely. 

 "Shit- oh, fuck-" he gasped against your lips. You moaned pridefully when he stilled, his entire body tense beneath you, and he held his breath for a short second before he came inside you whispering expletives and your name. You trembled above him shortly after he’d spilled himself into you and he hooked his blunt nails into your hips so harshly he imagined he might break your skin and draw blood. 

He pressed his forehead against your shoulder and loosed his grip on your hips when you finally stopped riding him after you came for a second time, but still sat on his softening dick after pulling every last drop from his throbbing cock. 

READER’S POV

“I love you,” Dean breathed against your mouth, gently brushing his thumbs over the raw flesh of your hips. 

“Mmm, I love you, too,” you promised quietly, carefully lifting your tender pussy from his dick. Dean hissed softly as your pussy fluttered over him and then he melted into the bed, slowly allowing himself to relax after you’d edged him for… well, who actually knows how long?

"What’s with you today, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice still pleasantly husky. 

You tried not to think about it as you sat by his knees, but your cunt still longed for him. “What do you mean?”

He opened his eyes and gave you a look. He looked so fucked out and it made you unreasonably arrogant. Your eyes flickered from his dishevelled hair, his red cheeks, swollen lips, and scratched torso. You blushed and shrugged after stealing a glance at his soft cock coated in your cum and his own. 

You could act nonchalant all you wanted, but your pussy clenched around nothing just at the sight of him. You could feel his release dripping out of you and you rubbed your thighs together. He was still watching you, but you didn’t care what he was able to see. 

“Please, come back here,” he mumbled lazily. 

You moved to his side and rested your cheek on his shoulder. You had a few moments of peace before his hand ghosted above your thigh and sneaked between your legs. You sat up straight and lifted a brow at him.

Dean smirked and rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, you’re telling me you don’t want more?”

You grabbed his face after staring at him with narrowed eyes and kissed him roughly to shut him up, but he turned to face you and kissed you back just as fiercely. He pushed against your body so you laid on the bed once more and his hand found your slick cunt again.

This time, three fingers pushed into you and he used his other hand to rub furiously at your clit. You whimpered against his mouth, overstimulated, and he pulled away panting. “Come on, baby, give me another one. I know you want it.”

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your body trembling in protest. 

He was right, you could still feel the faint embers of your arousal and he was reigniting them faster than you were able to make your body process. Somehow your orgasm was building up for a third time, feeling less intense but completely fulfilling.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured and before you knew what was happening, you squirted around his fingers and onto the sheets. Dean chuckled and drew out your orgasm as long as you could bear by still stroking on your clit after pulling his fingers out of you.

You could finally say you felt so much more relief, but you were half embarrassed by the gush of your orgasm. Dean was more than pleased by it. He licked his fingers clean of your release and then lowered his mouth down to your pussy with a moan to lick you thoroughly before kissing his way back up your body.

That mouth of his glistened and captivated your attention as he licked them. He pecked your lips and mumbled against your mouth, “I’m so glad I married you.”

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[supernotnatural2005]

Polaris – Chapter 6

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, hurt, angst, more murder mystery, divorce, drinking, death

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Welcome back, guys! I'm still trying to catch up with comments and reading, so be patient with me 😂 BUT there's a big reveal in this chapter and things are about to pick up. Can't wait to hear your thoughts on all of it. Enjoy! 🤓🤍

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Chapter 6: Curses And Cries

March 2021

As you entered the dingy bar on the outskirts of Juárez, the smell of salsa deliciously hit your nose, causing your stomach to growl. Ever since your prolonged stay in Mexico, you had really gotten attached to the cuisine here.

After your husband’s death, you started to eat your grief in spicy carbs and worked it off with an hour-long jog in the mornings and some Brazilian Jiu Jitsu in the evenings.

And while you were eating your sadness, your companion was drowning his in tequila. Apparently, three shots in this time, judging from the empty glasses on the oak counter in front of him.

You sat down next to him and wordlessly grabbed a plastic menu, skimming through it with interest as Beau watched you from his peripheral and downed another shot.

“Oooh, they have Quesadillas here,” you hummed happily.

“They have Quesadillas everywhere here. And back home. It’s called Tex-Mex,” Beau grumbled and gestured at the bartender for a refill with his fingers.

“Maybe some Nachos, too,” you mused, ignoring his murmurs next to you. He had become quite the grump.

“You’re gonna puke at some point,” he muttered, thanking the bartender as he placed down five more shots in front of him.

“Jesus, by the looks of it, you’re the one who’s gonna puke tonight, not me,” you quipped and arched an eyebrow at his life choices. “Maybe you should order some food as well, soak up all that Don Julio. Or at least eat the limes that come with it…”

“I’m fine,” Beau said and hissed as he gulped down another glass.

“Yeah, by all means, you look great,” you retorted wryly. “What happened? What are you doing back here so soon? You were supposed to be at home the whole week. Weren’t you and Carla planning to go on that cabin trip with Em?”

Unlike you, who had come down here and never gone back, Beau made the trip home every couple of weeks for the sake of his marriage and daughter. You knew, however, from the occasional concerned phone calls with Carla that he barely kept his commitment afloat.

You tried to talk to him, tried to keep a balance, tried to send him home, but you knew deep down that you could try even harder. Selfishly, you wanted him here with you. He was your lifeline, the only piece you still had left of your husband.

Beau snorted a drunken laugh in response and grabbed another shot. “Yeah, that went downhill quickly.”

Your brow scrunched with a mix of concern and confusion. You placed a palm on his forearm in a comforting manner. “What happened?”

Beau silently reached into the inner pocket of his jeans jacket and pulled out a folded and crumpled heap of stapled papers, slapping them onto the counter in front of you. With a creased brow, you took them and unfolded them carefully, while Beau downed another shot.

“Oh Beau…” You sighed when you read over the lines that stung out and looked at him, putting the document back down. “She’s divorcing you?”

“Yup,” he replied bitterly and stared ahead, another shot raining down his throat.

You frowned and snatched the last remaining shot, drinking it before he could.

“Ey!”

“You’re cut off,” you barked sternly at his protest. “Drinking isn’t gonna make this better, you know?”

“You sure? ‘Cause it certainly feels like it.” Beau grinned lazily at you. Judging by the glaze in his green eyes, you were honestly surprised he didn’t slur his words yet. But then again, you figured he had built up quite the tolerance over the last couple of months.

“Uh-huh, worked out great for you the last few weeks. You know, some would even say all the booze is what got you into this mess in the first place,” you retorted and threw him a pointed look.

Beau muttered mockingly into his empty glass, “Really? And who are those people?”

Rolling your eyes with a small sigh, you grabbed his arm and tried to get him up from the barstool. But Beau shook his head and wiggled himself out of your grip. In that moment, you wished that he was lighter and that you were a lot stronger.

“Nuh-uh, I’m not done sulking yet,” he told you and swiftly turned to the bartender once more.

Fourteen tequilas in, you were finally allowed to take him back to the motel. Getting him from the bar into the car and then from the parking lot into the room was quite the straining task. He was a big guy, his full weight resting on you as you had his arm slung around your shoulders, guiding him on wobbly bow legs.

“Where’s your key?” you demanded firmly like a kindergarten teacher talking to a misbehaving toddler.

Beau flashed you a crooked smirk. “It’s in my pocket. Go fish.”

You laughed in annoyed amusement. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that one tomorrow,” you said and dove your hand into the back pocket of his jeans, hauling out the key without further ado.

“Ow! Did you just pinch me?”

Well, some further ado.

“You bet I did,” you replied dryly, chuckling as you turned your back to him and fumbled the key into the lock.

“Oh, you’re a sly one, alright… Kinda like it,” he slurred drunkenly behind you.

You soon caught a waft of tequila as his breath tickled your neck, your gaze wandering up as his flat palm steadied on the door next to your cheek. He then leaned his forehead on your shoulder as he swayed behind you in the cool night air. A shiver ran down your spine, but you tried to remain composed.

“You smell nice,” he noted with a smile in his voice. “You always do.”

You snorted and finally managed to unlock the door. “Okay, now I know you’re really wasted,” you joked and tried to get his mind to focus on something else.

You didn’t take offense to his advances nor did you put too much thought into them. You supposed every guy, who was drunk, lonely, sad, and most of all, a man, would hit on any female in his proximity. His pride was shattered, and you were just the closest thing there to mend the pieces of his ego back together again.

Besides, you weren’t all that scared of him. Maybe currently a little uncomfortable, but that was it. You knew he was a good guy. And if it turned out he wasn’t, you had practiced enough Jiu Jitsu over the course of the last months to throw him on his ass with the power of your little pinky.

However, before you could twist the knob and open the door, he gripped your waist and spun you around. Your back hit the flat surface behind you, pressing against the fragile wood as you came face to face with him. He licked his plump lips with a mischievously cocky smile, leaning closer to you as he dipped his head.

But you didn’t move or flinch. Instead, you patiently crossed your arms over your chest and quirked your brow with an amused smile. “And what d’you think you’re doing here, gaucho?”

As long as he didn’t overstep any lines, you were willing to entertain his little flirtations for the sake of his ego. Deep down, you knew he wouldn’t go through with them anyway. Like the tequila, it just made him feel better in the moment.

As expected, the mischief soon disappeared abruptly from his face and was replaced by a surprise attack of nausea. “Puking,” he managed to spit out.

With a sigh, you grabbed behind you and swung the door open for him, watching him bolt past you into the bathroom. You heard him retching a second later.

“Told you so!” you called after him with a triumphant grin.

With a few taps of your combat boots, you waited till the silver elevator doors of the DA’s office parted with a ding. Your head bobbed mindlessly to the jazzily generic music till you reached the fifth floor and Diane’s office. For once during this case, you were excited to meet with a prosecutor. You finally struck gold and had something in your hands, even if it was just a username and a possible connection to the victims.

Depending on what your tech analysts at the FBI back in Houston would find, you hoped for an arrest by the end of the week.

“Hey, working hard, I see,” you said with a friendly smile as you approached Diane’s desk and saw the huge piles of files in front of her. It was late, too. The office was empty, her colleagues already having cleared out.

“Yeah, I’m the newbie, so I got a lot of catching up to do,” she said, chuckling softly.

You then noticed the diploma behind her hanging on the wall and nodded impressed. “Wow, Stanford Law School, huh? You’re from California?”

“Oh yeah, born and raised. And honestly, it’s not that remarkable. It’s really just like any other law school in the country,” she replied modestly.

You snorted, amused over her response. “Yeah, I doubt that.” There was a twinge in your stomach and a voice in your head.

Smart, driven, the California Penal Code, it whispered, checking off a secret list.

“By the way, I’m sorry about last week,” Diane apologized, causing your brow to wrinkle in confusion for a moment before you caught on. Her voice sounded secretive like the two of you were having a chat between friends. Only that you weren’t remotely close at all. “I didn’t mean to barge in and interrupt anything with that hottie sheriff.”

“Oh, uh, don’t worry about it,” you told her courteously, squinting your eyes a bit.

“You’d think someone like him would be married,” she commented cheekily, while you direly wished you could escape the awkwardness of that conversation.

“Divorced,” you supplied politely, trying your best to remain professional.

Socially weird, the detective voice in your mind noted.

“Oh, that explains it. Wonder what happened there. I was actually so surprised when Sheriff Arlen introduced you as his girlfriend,” Diane said and explained further, “I just noticed your wedding ring, so I assumed you were his wife.”

“Uh, no.” Your eyes flashed down to your golden wedding band around your ring finger, the urge to take it off and hide it in shame before crawling into bed with a torrid lover suddenly permeated your thoughts. As if taking it from your finger and hiding it in some pocket, out of everyone’s judgmental sight, would make the immoral affair less of a betrayal.

There’s nothing to feel guilty about, you reminded yourself sternly.

However, there was a flicker of something in Diane’s gray eyes that tugged and tore at you, cautioning you to tread carefully. That something wicked in her eyes wanted you to suffer and doubt yourself.

“So, what’s the story there? You married?” Diane asked bluntly and then shook her head, chuckling. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry. It’s none of my business.”

“No, you’re good,” you feigned your assurance with a hard smile. “Dead husband, actually. Happened a couple of years ago now.”

“Ah, well, lucky you. Sheriff Arlen seems like a catch,” she quipped, grinning.

“Yeah, lucky me,” you faux-agreed and kept your smile, although everything was killing you inside.

“So, how did you two meet? Excuse my nosiness, I’m a sucker for a good love story.” Diane’s question reverberated with charm that could’ve easily fooled anybody into thinking it was all just harmless curiosity.

But not you.

You broke a polite smile, but your stare could’ve killed her. “He was my husband’s partner back in Houston.”

“Oh, wow. Sounds a bit messy, doesn’t it?” Diane gave you a surprised look, but you couldn’t shake the feeling she had already known the answer and her question was only supposed to torture you. Your feet were starting to get antsy to leave, your hands itching to grasp your gun. When you only replied by offering her another tight-lipped smile, she cleared her throat and dropped her intrusive exam. “So, uh, what can I do for you? Any new leads?”

Pursing your lips, you shook your head. “Uh, no. It’s a tough one. We’re still chasing down several ends, but nothing concrete. Just wanted to stop by to give you the coroner’s report of our last victim. It came through this morning.” You pulled out only one file from your bag, keeping the others inside, and handed it to her.

“Oh, alright. Anything remarkable?” Diane’s smile was sharp as she leafed briefly through the report. You guessed she didn’t need to read it to know what state the victim was found in.

“Uh, no. Nothing so far. Gotta be honest with you – this case is a tough one. Might take us a while,” you lied openly. You knew she didn’t buy a word of what you said, and you could see that she didn’t care.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll solve the case. After all, you’re a smart one, Agent Y/L/N. I have no doubt you’ll catch her, eventually.” Diane sent you a confident smile.

It was the last insurance you’d needed. You knew for a fact you had never mentioned to Diane that the killer was most likely a woman. That information wasn’t anywhere in the documents you’d given her yesterday. You had kept it close. Only a handful of people knew.

You could then see it all right there in front of you as the alarm bells rang in your head. You were face to face with your killer, staring right into her gray and cold eyes, and there was nothing you could goddamn do about it.

Judging by her cunning look, she knew it, too. She wanted you to catch on. She wanted you to know it was her. She was fucking playing with you.

March 2021

“Oh God…” Beau groaned as he hugged the yellowing porcelain throne, his forehead propped up on the back of his hand, knees scraping against the chipped and dirty green motel bathroom tiles.

“There, there…” you soothed with a hint of amusement in your voice, your palm rubbing his back in comforting circles when he heaved again. “Let it all out, big guy.”

“I think this was the last of it.” Beau straightened a bit as his fingers fumbled blindly for the flush. His eyes were bloodshot and teary, his nose was red and snotty, and his lips were pale and dryer than the desert. He never looked worse.

You grinned and pulled out your phone, swiping to the camera. “Say cheese.”

Beau’s brow scrunched in confusion and betrayal. “What in God’s good name-… Why the hell would you do that?”

“You look terrible, my friend. Figured it’d be a great picture for the slideshow I’m planning for your fiftieth,” you quipped, your wicked grin widening.

“Oh God…”

“Relax.” Playfully, you rolled your eyes back, while you saved the photo to your favorites on your phone. “You’ve still got a while ‘til then. You’ve just turned forty not that long ago. I’m just planning ahead.”

“Not that.” Beau shook his head and clutched his stomach, his cheeks losing color again. His eyes widened in miserable realization. “I think it’s starting again.”

With that, he tossed himself over the stained white bowl and puked his literal guts out for the umpteenth time.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. Pretty sure you purged all the tequila and drank the entirety of Mexico dry,” you commented with a chuckle over his vomiting noises. If you ever thought the guy was sexy again, you would remind yourself to think back to this moment.

“I don’t remember you ever being this funny when I was sober.” After his last heave, Beau flushed once more and leaned back against the cool wall with an exhaustive sigh. “I think I’m really done now.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “You sure? You’ve said that a few times in the last two hours.”

He nodded with his eyes closed. “Mhm, yeah… That one felt final.”

“Alright.”

You rose from your floor seat against the bathtub and held out your hands. He glanced at them for a second before he took you up on your offer. With your help, he hoisted himself back onto his wobbly feet. You reached behind him and grabbed his toothbrush with a dab of paste from the sink, handing it to him.

You smiled. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

After he thoroughly brushed his teeth and washed his face with cold water, you accompanied him to his bed with his arm slung around your neck. While he was more sober and coherent after his vomit escapade, he was still pretty drunk. You knew the massive hangover that would hit him in a few hours would be more punishing than the desert heat.

Sitting him down on the edge of his bed, you handed him a Tylenol and a bottle of water to swallow it down. “Hydrate,” you ordered as you kneeled down on the carpet in front of him, untying his boots and slipping them off his feet.

As you straightened, your face fell right into his hands, both of his massive palms cupping your cheeks. You stared into his hazy pine-green eyes, a twitch of confusion on your brow as your breaths mingled. Your heart skipped a beat, the white noise ringing in your ears. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but you could guess.

Beau swallowed thickly and dropped his hands from your cheeks. “I should lay down.”

“Yeah, you should,” you bit, a trace of anger in your voice. Though, you couldn’t tell if it was because he almost overstepped or because he didn’t. You knew the latter would be a problem for both of you, so you decided on the first. There was no need to unnecessarily burden your conscience with imagined immorality.

Beau groaned as his head hit the pillow. His eyes found yours, a fragment of an apology fluttered across his features. “Thank you, uhm, for taking care of me. You coulda just bailed.”

“Yeah, I know. But this was more fun to watch.” You grinned teasingly.

Beau pursed his lips, chuckling lightly. “Is that the only reason you stayed? ‘Cause it was fun?”

“No, you’re also my friend, and I’d never desert you. We leave no man behind, remember?” you said with a smile, quoting one of the cliché lines your task force team repeated often. “‘Sides, you and I are trauma bonded.”

“Alright.” Beau bobbed his head pensively, his lips curled. “So… on a scale from one to ten, how full is my quota for tonight to do somethin’ stupid again?”

Your heart twisted and clenched in your ribcage. You knew what he meant. He couldn’t have been clearer. It was all written in his eyes as bright as the stars in the sky when he looked at you, only a dangling question of “May I?” hanging in the air between you two.

“Twenty,” you said firmly and held your chin high, swallowing thickly. “I think that quota is pretty fucking full.”

“That’s too bad.” On his lips flickered a forlorn smile, his hand brushing your cheek for a moment before he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered like smoke on your skin. “But maybe for the best. I’d like to remember that one, and I’m not sure I would tonight.”

A shallow scoff left your nose. “Maybe you’ll remember this,” you said with bitter anger in your voice and stared daggers at him. “You’ll always be the guy that stood on my doorstep and told me my husband was dead.”

Beau nodded with a harsh swallow of understanding and retreated, forcing some distance between you two. “Yeah, I think that’ll stick even through the tequila.”

“Good,” you bit and rose to your feet, walking to the door. “Get some fucking sleep.”

Beau’s mouth opened with a want to say something, maybe even an apology, but the door slammed harshly behind you before he got a chance. And now, all he had left was silence, a raging headache, guilt in his stomach, and regret in his heart.

Breathlessly, you arrived at the Sheriff’s Department and stormed into Beau’s office. The door was ajar as he chatted with Jenny, both of them curiously looking at you before concern took hold of their faces.

“Hey, everything alright?” Beau instantly rose from his chair, his brow knitting with worry.

“No,” you replied with a shake of your head, the alarm visible in every crease of your flushed face. “I think I’ve found our killer.”

“What? How? Who?” Beau ran down the basic wh-questions in confusion. “Weren’t you just at the DA’s office?”

“It’s Diane, isn’t it?” Jenny shot straightaway, and your eyes widened in confirmation as you nodded. “Yeah, I got a weird vibe from her, too.”

“What, no? Diane?” Beau raised his brow at the two of you in disbelief. “Okay, back up a little here. Why do you think it’s Diane? We met that woman only three weeks ago. She seemed alright. Little awkward maybe, but we can’t arrest people ‘cause they’re weird.”

“Look, I know that,” you said and crossed your arms. “And I don’t have anything concrete yet, but it’s just a feeling. I got a really strange vibe from her earlier.”

“Well, we can’t arrest people because of strange vibes either,” Beau retorted. “And if it really is Diane, arresting her at all is gonna be hard. I mean, she’s the DA on the case. Who’s gonna issue the warrant, huh?”

“Convenient.” Jenny scoffed under her breath, earning her a scolding look from her boss.

“Don’t encourage her, please.” He shot Jenny a warning and yet pleading glance.

“Look, I’m not crazy! It’s her. I’ll find proof,” you insisted. It almost sounded like a threatening promise.

“What did she say to you exactly?” Jenny questioned and cocked her head at you in interest. You appreciated her professionalism, unlike Beau who still looked at you doubtfully.

“She asked some really personal questions about me and Beau. And not in a friendly chitchat manner. It’s hard to explain. I guess you had to be there… It was weird, okay?”

“Well, you can’t really fault her for that after what she’s seen,” Beau mitigated the circumstances.

“What has she seen?” Jenny looked suspiciously between you two. When both of you responded with deafening silence and averted your gazes, she chortled. “You two really need to lock that door.”

“Alright, that’s not the point,” Beau huffed his retort with blushed cheeks.

“Can we get back to Diane being a serial killer, please?” you requested impatiently. “Look, she fits the profile. She’s got the California connection. She went to Stanford. She’s obviously wicked smart. And she also knows we're looking for a female perp.”

That caught Jenny’s attention. Her brow furrowed. “You didn’t tell her?”

You shook your head. “No, and it’s nowhere in the files. So unless one of you told her, how did she know that?”

Grabbing the football from his desk, Beau’s head bobbed pensively as he squeezed the peanut between his hands. You tried not to think about Randy, but your heart stung nonetheless. Beau seemed to notice your distracted look and quickly put the ball back down.

“Alright, what do we do next?” he asked with a clear of his throat.

“I hope whatever the tech analysts find points to her. We could also put a tracker on her car. Won’t help in court, but maybe she leads us to one of the bunkers,” you suggested and pursed your lips for the next part. “I could also talk to the other DAs on the case. If we can’t get an arrest warrant here, we can still try through the other states and extradite her.”

“Good idea. Who would–” Beau stopped mid-sentence, his eyebrows drawing together as he realized your plan. “You wanna ask Ted? C’mon!”

“It’d be the fastest way! We’ve worked together for years,” you defended.

“Uh-huh, a little too closely…” Beau muttered under his breath, earning a small glare from you.

“Would you calm down? We only went on three dates. Nothing ever happened,” you stated and looked at him, completely forgetting Jenny was still in the room, too.

“I’m gonna go for this part,” she excused herself and touched your arm on the way out. “I’ll do some research on Diane. See what we can dig up about her past.”

“Thank you. That’d be great,” you said as she left.

Beau waited for a beat, ensuring you were completely alone before he found your eyes. “Nothing happened?”

“No, I ended it before it got to that point. Mainly because I didn’t want it to get to that point,” you explained and could see him relax, his shoulders falling.

He stalked closer to you, wrapping you in his arms. He kissed you deeply, hands wandering to your ass and squeezing the cheeks through your jeans. You smiled up at him.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you teased.

“I’m not–… You know what? I am,” Beau stated almost proudly. “I don’t like thinking about losing you to some jerk. Actually, I don’t like thinking about losing you at all. It’s killing me that I almost did. I should’ve never let you close the door on me that day. I should’ve never left… At least not like that.”

“It’s okay. I’m here now… with you. It all sorta worked out. Maybe we needed that time apart,” you said softly and hoped you soothed his guilt a little. Your mind drifted back to Diane’s words. Thoughtfully, you twisted the ring on your finger.

“You okay? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s just something Diane said,” you told him, your brow wrinkling as the bad feeling in your gut expanded. “She just asked about my ring. It was odd.”

“Well, we already know she’s a bit nutty,” Beau said and gave you a soothing smile, embracing you a little tighter as he pulled you against his chest and pecked the top of your head. But his heart ached with worry and a bad feeling.

“Yeah, I just…” You glanced at your ring again and exhaled one nostalgic breath. You then took it off and placed it in Beau’s palm, who seemed rattled by your unforeseen choice. “Take it and keep it somewhere. Throw it in a lake or feed it to a trout. I don’t care. I don’t wanna wear it anymore.”

“Y/N–”

You stopped his protest, knowing it was well meant. “No, really. It’s alright, okay? I’m ready to let go. I’m with you now… And I love you.” You gave him a smile, and he mirrored a softer one, nodding.

“Alright,” he accepted your decision and lifted the ring to your view. He opened a drawer in his desk and stored it carefully inside. “I love you, too. But I’m gonna keep it safe here in case you ever change your mind… which you can do at any point in time, no questions asked, okay?”

“Thank you.” You stretched up to meet his lips, kissing him passionately. Sometimes, it was hard to believe you’d found it twice – true love. But you were sure of it whenever you stared into Beau’s mesmerizingly green eyes. Maybe Diane was right. You were lucky, after all.

August 2020

The cookbook laid open on the marble counter by the stove, a second one with another recipe right next to it. You stared at them, your narrowed eyes wandering back and forth between ‘Brisket’ and ‘Biscuits and Gravy’ as you tapped your chin with a wooden spatula.

You had never been the best cook, as your mother would attest to, but every once in a while you tried and even had some success with the classics. Those two dishes were Randy’s favorite – like almost every Texan’s if you excluded BBQ.

You’d been gone for close to a month for an assignment that took you all the way to Arizona. You had just gotten home two days ago, and after washing a month’s worth of laundry and getting some well-deserved rest, you promised your husband a delicious meal for date night.

When the food was done, you set the table with the good china you’d received from your mother-in-law at your wedding. As you waited, you filled a glass with Merlot. Then, a second one. You stared at the hands of the clock in the dining room moving in a circle, alternating with the watch around your wrist in case either one was wrong. Every two minutes you checked your phone, scrolled through social media, and exhaled sighs. The food was getting cold, but that was the least of your problems.

You were growing anxious, steadying the slight tremble in your hand with more wine.

But when the doorbell rang, you stood up from your chair with relief and rushed into the foyer. You ignored the voice in your head that told you Randy wouldn’t have rung the damn doorbell. He would’ve just used his key. And you ignored the voice when instead of Randy, you found his partner on your doorstep.

“Beau, hey.” Your brow crinkled at the oddness of seeing him so late at your house, but your lips formed a smile nonetheless. “What are you doing here?”

You ignored the voice that warned you about the universal truth everyone in law enforcement knew about. If a partner showed up at a cop’s wife’s house, it was never good news. Deep down, you already knew why he was here. You saw it in the haunted green of his eyes. You saw it in the dark and puffy circles underneath them. You saw it in the bloodstains on his white shirt. You saw it in the bloody creases of his nails that he couldn’t entirely scrub clean before he came here.

“Beau?” The wrinkles in your brow molded into deeper cracks, hardening like cement. You took a step forward, one hand on the door jamb steadying your jittery bones. “Is Randy okay? Is he in the hospital?”

You needed him to say the words, but he couldn’t. His lips quivered, his hands trembled, his eyes filled with tears. He swallowed harshly and clasped his mouth, not knowing what to say or how to find the words. He turned his back to you, walking a few steps. Whatever courage he had to come to your door in the first place, left him the second he saw your face.

You shook your head, disbelief keeping you from accepting reality. You stood on the tracks, the freight train was coming. “Just lemme grab my jacket. We can drive to the hospital together.”

Snatching a too-large jacket from the coat rack you were sure was your husband’s, you tried to bolt past Beau, but a hand on your arm caught you and stopped you on your front lawn. You found his green eyes. He wordlessly shook his head.

“No! It’s not true,” you insisted desperately, tears starting to flood your eyes. “I just talked to him a few hours ago. I-I made dinner… His favorite. He’s coming home! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Beau’s clasp on your arm tightened, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

Your tears now fell, too. Yet, you vividly shook your head and stuffed the pain down your throat until it felt like you were choking. “No, you’re wrong. You’re wrong, Beau! He’s coming home to me. He’s coming home…”

You repeated those words over and over until your sobs swallowed them all. Beau pulled you to his chest and held you tightly. You felt his tears fall like raindrops upon your head, your body stiffening and bones turning to stone as unbearable pain and grief wracked through your veins and consumed you.

“I’m so sorry,” Beau repeated, his voice muffled by your hair. His arms wrapped around you even tighter. “He’s not coming home, darlin’. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.”

He kept saying it as he held you – how sorry he was. But once the reality of the situation fully hit you, so did your anger. You pushed him away. As you met his gaze, he almost looked hurt by that action, but all you could find in your heart was vitriol, disdain, and blame.

“You should be. You should be sorry,” you spat through your tears. “Where were you in all of this, huh? You said you’d have his back! So, why are you here and he’s not? Where the fuck were you, Beau?”

His mouth jittered open, searching for an explanation for his own failure. “I know… I-I don’t know what happened. It just went south so fast… I-…”

“You guys told me it was a quick job,” you pointed out furiously. “In and out! ‘No big deal, darlin’,” you quoted him in mock. “It was your fucking idea to go in! I asked if you guys needed backup, and you said no! You told me you could do it on your own, you arrogant shit!”

Beau dragged a hand over his face, wiping some of the tears away. “I know.” He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it! You got it? It’s not gonna bring him back now, is it?”

“I know. I know I fucked up. Trust me, Y/N. I know…”

You furiously shoved at his chest, pushing him back a few inches. He let you, didn’t even try to stop you in the slightest. He was willingly volunteering to be your punching bag as if it would magically better the situation and absolve him from his sins.

“You were supposed to be his partner!” you yelled so loudly all the commotion in the front yard of your quiet neighborhood had woken the neighbors, a few of them flooding out of their houses and gathering in their own yards to gawk at the spectacle.

You pushed him again. Harder this time. “You were supposed to fucking protect him!”

Another push. “You promised me you’d take a bullet for him!”

Push. “You fucking coward!”

Beau just nodded in agreement with all your accusations, his eyes brimming with tears. “I know. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

This time, you slapped him across the cheek. “Stop saying you’re fucking sorry!”

The harsh slap echoed through suburbia. Your palm tingled and stung as you watched Beau’s cheek redden with your furious mistake. You stared around you and glanced at the gasping and gaping faces of your neighbors. You clasped your mouth with both hands as you broke down and started to sob uncontrollably.

Kind and forgiving as he was, Beau pulled you back into his embrace, strong arms locking around you and soothing your anguish. “It’s okay… I’m here. I gotcha… It’s okay. I gotcha… I’m not lettin’ go, alright?”

Sobbingly, you nodded as you cried and sniffled, burying your face in his chest. You wrapped your arms around his torso and held onto him, too weak to keep standing on your own.

“It’s okay… I know,” Beau said and tucked you under his arm, leading you back to the house. “C’mon, let’s get you inside, darlin’.”

Chapter 7: Storm Coming – JUNE 19

Welp, we know who our killer is now! Ready for the approaching storm called Diane? When it rains, it pours... 👀⛈️

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @autistic-gothic

Everything Beau Arlen: @snowayumi

Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser

[supernotnatural2005]

Screw it. I’m gonna believe in myself. Give me something dark and strong.

DEAN WINCHESTER 10.12 About a Boy

[supernotnatural2005]

This is a better goodbye than last time.

[supernotnatural2005]

Polaris – Series Masterlist

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, law enforcement themes (incl. serial killers, kidnappings, cartels etc.), marital themes (incl. divorce, cheating etc.), general emotional turmoil & an unhealthy amount of flashbacks

A/N: Inspired by this little Dirty Drabble I wrote about our favorite sheriff comes a series full of sexy heartbreak and a look into Beau Arlen’s past. Buckle up and get ready for another emotional ride 🤍

Main Masterlist || Beau Arlen Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 1: Caught Up In A Moment Chapter 2: No Signs, No Compasses Chapter 3: Pour The Whiskey Chapter 4: Rewind – MAY 22 Chapter 5: Illicit Affairs – MAY 29 Chapter 6: Curses And Cries Chapter 7: Storm Coming Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds Chapter 9: Marooned Chapter 10: It Matters Chapter 11: You With Me Chapter 12: Through Chapter 13: Sure And Certain

ONE SHOTS & OTHER:

Jurisdiction (Prequel)

[supernotnatural2005]

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk. 

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor. 

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Siracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

 You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.” 

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely. 

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in siracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad. 

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your siracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gathered your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

 And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

 “Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and siracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.   

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Siracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but I'm already sketching out my outline for the little series that will continue this one-shot, tentatively titled "Every Second Counts."

Stay tuned! 😘

Russell Shaw Masterlist

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@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[supernotnatural2005]

Supernatural (2005-2020) || I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here (9.01)

[supernotnatural2005]

Wake Me Up - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Welcome back to the BMD-verse! Let me tell you, I’ve had this mini series outlined for months, but now I thought it was finally time to get to it. If you’re not tired of the Break Me Down world yet, I very much hope you enjoy Wake Me Up.

**As a reminder, this story is set shortly after Love Actually, and will contain references from that three-part story. 

Song Inspo: For this whole series it’s “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers. (I pretty much listened to this on repeat.)

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Starting off strong in this one: with mature themes, show level violence, angst, kidnapping, PTSD, mentions of torture (not too graphic), and character death.

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 1: “Familiar Territory”

The start of a new year continued a steady rhythm for you and Ben. Namely, another successful mission for the Supe Affairs team.

While you were patched into the team’s communications line from the safety of your desk back at the S.A. headquarters in New York, your friends were a few states over in Denver, Colorado. They’d just arrested a supe that had been committing a series of bank robberies by literally slipping away from the police, thanks to his particular superpower.

“Somebody better get this shit off of me,” M.M. groused.

He wasn’t too happy about some questionable ooze this particular supe secreted as a defense mechanism. According to Frenchie’s research, it was the same shit that certain frogs could produce to repel predators.

“Need a good hose down, more like,” said Butcher. “You smell fuckin’ foul.”

“Like Satan’s ass crack,” Ben remarked.

You couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement.

“Let’s just get the fuck outta here,” M.M. said, his tone all surly, as per usual. You didn’t envy his plight.

“Good job, guys,” you said, to change the subject. “Now it’s just a short flight back to New York.”

“No layovers this time. I’m not being paid to rot in a fucking airport with a bunch of mouth-breathing assholes and their screaming brats,” Ben said.

Charming. You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips when you imagined his taciturn face.

“Okay, your majesty. I’ll make sure it’s a nonstop flight,” you said. “I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

That last bit, you said with a hint of more behind your words. You drummed your nails on your desk and crossed your legs underneath it. A week was a long time for you and your boyfriend to be apart, and you’d been missing him.

“You better be,” Ben said. His voice was deep and cocky. He was smirking, you were sure, and you knew that he’d understood you perfectly well.

“Anybody else hearing this blatant foreplay?” Hughie quipped.

“I sense cheeks will be cracked tonight,” Frenchie muttered.

“Ugh!” you heard Annie shudder.

You knew she supported you and Ben, but you also knew that she didn’t want to hear about the gushy details. You laughed through your embarrassment. 

“Okay, guys. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” you said, before you officially signed off. 

You grabbed your purse that was stowed away in a desk drawer, fished out your cell phone, and you called Ben’s cell. He picked up on the second ring.

“Yeah?” he said. 

“I love you,” you said with a smile. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“Mhmm,” he replied. “I’ll see you soon, baby doll.”

You pouted. “Come on, say it.”

“Say what?”

You sighed. You knew he was being deliberately obtuse.

“You know exactly what,” you replied.

Part of you was upset that he didn’t say it back as often as you liked. God forbid Butcher and the others hear him express his affection for you.

But you supposed you understood that any kind of vulnerability was difficult for him, especially in front of others. As much shit as you gave him, you also knew how to pick your battles with Ben.

“I told you. I’ll see you soon,” he said.

You once again tapped your nails, on your armrest this time. After a moment, you relented.

“Okay, baby. Have a safe flight,” you said, even if you were still frowning.

When Ben hung up with you, he let out a deep sigh.

An entire week with these juvenile cocksuckers was almost too much for him to fucking take. While he often felt your presence with you on the comm line during the actual mission, and the occasional phone call on long nights in between, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough.

He was ready to go home.

The flight itself was fine, though dealing with civilians and the tiring experience of a long-ass flight made him even more antsy to land. Because even when they got to JFK, he still had a hired car waiting for him to drive him from the airport to get to Scarsdale, and to the apartment he shared with you. It had already been almost a year of you two living there, in a three-bedroom spanning two floors.

Ben hadn’t thought he would get used to such a small place, but it was all right. It had become his home, far more than the penthouses and party mansions ever were, at least.

When he finally got home and unlocked the front door of the apartment, he stepped into darkness. All the lights were off.

Odd, he thought. He called your name while he shut the door behind him, then flicked on the foyer light. He realized then that he hadn’t seen your car in the driveway. Were you still working? It wasn’t unlike you to get caught up with the paperwork and other logistics after a case.

After a quick look around of each room, from the kitchen to the living room, Ben knew you hadn’t come home yet. A frown marred his face.

He went upstairs and entered the bedroom next. He unclipped his wrist guards and took his gloves off first, followed by loosening the collar of his supe suit. The bed was made, untouched since this morning, he was sure.

Then he noticed the scrap of paper resting on his pillow. He picked it up, and his brows furrowed as he read.

By the time you find me, she’ll wish she was dead.

Ben called Grace Mallory first.

When she didn’t answer, he called Butcher next. Ben’s hand shook the slightest bit while holding the phone up to his ear.

“Evenin’, guv,” Butcher answered with a tired sigh. “What’s this about—”

“We have a fucking problem,” Ben growled.

Ben pushed the limits of his Mercedes Benz while driving himself to Supe Affairs.

The others met him there in a conference room, except for Grace, who was on an active case at the moment. There Hughie and Frenchie tapped into the S.A. security footage on their laptops. 

They eventually found you getting into your car in the S.A. garage, about four hours ago. Then two later, the street cameras picked you up somewhere in the Village. Ben recognized the street. 

You probably had dinner with your friend Yvette and her family, but you intended to make it home on time to meet Ben when you left around 9:00 p.m. 

You had parallel parked at a meter on the street. According to the footage, it looked quiet and empty when you headed back to your car. 

You were stopped by someone before you could get the driver’s side door open. It looked like a man’s height and build; he grabbed you by the shoulder and threw a punch you managed to dodge.

You put up a good fight, but you were eventually knocked out with what looked to be a crowbar, at first glance. When Hughie zoomed in, it was actually a black baton. Ben watched it all with a deepening frown. Anger churned in his gut and ignited his blood as he watched your unconscious body being hauled into a black SUV.

“That looks military-issued,” M.M. said, pointing at the baton that the suspect used to hit you.

Butcher nodded, and also noted the man’s fighting style. “That’s a professional.”

“He would have to be, to take her out,” M.M. said, glancing at Ben. “And the timing. They knew you were coming home. That note was personal, besides the fact that they were casing your place…they’ve probably been watching both of you, waiting for the chance to get the jump on you.”

“The question,” Butcher said, “is who the fuck would wanna tangle with Soldier Boy that badly?”   

“Shit. That’s a laundry list, isn’t it?” Hughie said. M.M.’s glance told him to shut the fuck up.

Ben was silent, but his fury was mounting. His head turned sharply to Butcher.

“Get Mallory on the line. Now,” he barked. When no one moved quick enough for him, his temper snapped at its thinly held leash.

“I said right fucking now!”

Slowly you blinked your eyes open. For a moment, you were seeing in double vision. It soon cleared up to reveal dark, damp, musty surroundings.

It smelled familiar; after that mission to find and subdue Sapphire a couple of months ago, you’d recognize a New York sewer anywhere.

Fuuucking shit, you thought with a groan. Your head was aching. You felt a trickle of blood down the side of your neck, and you found yourself in a familiar position—seated on a metal chair with your hands secured behind your back. Your restraints felt like zip ties.

“You finally with us, sweetheart?” asked a man. His voice was smooth and commanding.

“Jackson, I don’t know about this,” whispered someone else. Another man, though he sounded slightly younger, reminding you of Hughie.

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” Jackson snapped.

At least you had a name. He stepped into the light that came from a couple of small lanterns. One was propped on top of a bucket by the wall. The other was on a plastic fold out table that you saw a few feet beside you.

The man who stepped into your line of vision was tall, maybe around Ben’s height, if just shy of his build. He was blonde, just like his skinnier friend. They shared some notable facial features and coloring, but while Jackson’s eyes were dark brown and self-assured, the younger man’s were blue and apprehensive. If you had to guess, they looked like brothers.

“Nice digs,” you remarked, gesturing with your gaze at your surroundings.

Jackson rose a brow, crossing his arms.

“You’re taking all this pretty well,” he said. 

You huffed humorlessly.

“This isn’t exactly my first kidnapping,” you said.

He quirked his head and drew closer.   

“All right. Well, since we’re on the clock, let me tell you why you’re here,” he said. He bent down in front of you so that his face was level with yours. “I need you, sweetheart. You’re going to tell me how to bring down Soldier Boy. How to kill him. How to end him. Then maybe, I’ll let you go without gouging out those pretty eyes.”

You stared back at Jackson with an expression that didn’t change.

Then you spat in his face.

And you expected the hard, back-handed slap that made your head whip to the side. It rattled you for a moment as you caught your breath, but you recovered enough to lean back in your seat. Your eyes met Jackson’s directly after he wiped his face with his shirt. “Tommy” stood off to the side behind his partner. He’d looked away when you were hit.

You focused on the other man, Jackson. He was wearing black cargo pants to match his boots, and a belt with a gun on his hip. He carried himself like a trained killer.

“Military, government agency, or private sector?” you asked.

His head tilted. He studied you, just like you were studying him.

“None of the above really,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He walked over to the fold out table, where he grabbed a black bag and unzipped it. A flash of silver gleamed as he pulled out one sharp instrument after the next. You had to hide your apprehension, and fear that made your insides tremble.

He glanced over at you.

“Let’s get started,” he said.

Hours later, you were teetering on the edge of consciousness.

After the last hit, you spat a wad of phlegm and blood onto Jackson’s shoes. He rotated the ache out of his hand. He looked down at you through furrowed brows.

“Damn, bitch,” he said, catching his breath. “You can take a hit. I’ll give you that.” 

“My dad was a Marine, numb nuts,” you managed to reply, through labored breaths. “He used to hit harder with his open hand than all the strength in that limp-dick wrist of yours.” 

Jackson smirked. “Christ. Daddy issues, huh? Why doesn’t that surprise me.” 

You gave him a droll look. Again, to cover your fear, because you weren’t willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

Angered and frustrated by that defiance, he reached down at grabbed your neck and jaw with one hand. You winced at the force of his grip, but when he started squeezing, this was the one thing that made you truly whimper. You tried not to think about the ghost of your father’s hand around your neck.

“Don’t you get it, asshole?” you gritted out while struggling for breath. “You can’t kill him. No one can. Stronger, smarter people than you have tried.” 

Moments ticked by while Jackson contemplated your words. 

Then he released you. You sucked in gulps of hair and tried not to cough out a lung.

“Maybe,” he said. “But Soldier Boy’s got a weakness. If anyone knows it, I’ve got a feeling it’s you.” 

You can’t say anything. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t. 

That had been your mantra for every minute you had spent in this hole. You shook your head.

“Look, Jackson.” You sucked in another breath to steady yourself, and blink a drip of blood out of your eyes. “He’s going to kill you. You and your brother. Take your family and run, while you’ve still got a chance.” 

“…You know what? You’re probably right,” Jackson said, scratching the back of his head with his crimson-stained hand. “But I just realized something.”

He leaned down again, until he was level with your face.

“When he finds you, drowned in your own goddamn blood…I think the look on his face might just be enough for me.”

Your eyes widened. 

It took days. Three painful days to pick up the threads, which led closer to home than anyone could’ve anticipated. 

Grace Mallory put pressure across the chain of command, and even reached out to the FBI for assistance. An alert email finally came to her phone, and she realized that an agent on her own payroll had been flagged for never reporting back for his debriefing on a reconnaissance mission.

That agent was Jackson Rawlins.

The further she read into his file, the worse her frown became. She immediately sent the lead to Ben, Butcher, and the rest of the team to run down. For the first time in years, Grace actually prayed.

She prayed that they would reach you in time. It wasn’t until then that she realized it; she hadn’t thought of you as a cog in her system for some time now—not even as leverage against Soldier Boy. She was genuinely concerned about you.

Grace worried that she was setting herself up for disappointment…if it was too late. However, she also worried about what would happen if you didn’t survive. She considered how Ben might react, with that nuclear power within him that he was still learning to control. The consequences of this mission could very well be catastrophic. 

You were losing track of time in this windowless pit. You knew it had been days, but you didn’t remember how many. The cellar was cold, and the way sound and air traveled, it felt like you were underground. It certainly smelled like it—damp and gross. It made you certain this was a sewer.

Now this is Satan’s ass-crack, you thought. You winced at the pain that radiated…pretty much everywhere. Blood had dried from various lacerations across your face, neck, chest, and arms, and bruises were dark against your skin.

Your blouse was in tatters, and your jeans had bleeding rips as well, though at least he’d kept your ankle boots on. You were too weak even for hunger. And a large, heavy chain attached to manacles on your wrists had replaced the zip ties. One end of the chain was fastened between the wall and a line of plumbing.

Footsteps echoed down the hall behind you. You closed your eyes and steeled yourself.

“Are we actually gonna have a conversation today?” Jackson asked.

“Depends,” you replied, your voice dry and coarse. “Are you going to tell me why you hate Ben so much?”

An angry sigh escaped Jackson’s lips. He pointed up in frustration.

“Ben.” Jackson rolled and cracked his neck, like just the mention of your boyfriend’s real name was disgusting to this man.

“You talk about him like he’s a real fucking person. Not like the animal supe he is,” he said.

“He is a person,” you said, both in exhaustion, and in pain. “And he’s trying to be better. Look, he’s done terrible things. I’m not saying he hasn’t. I don’t know what he’s done to you in the past, but—”

Jackson shut you up with a sharp backhand. It made black spots encroach on your vision as you caught your breath.

You noticed his brother Tom come in the room as well, to watch and worry. He didn’t seem comfortable with this way of things. He looked like a civilian. Maybe you could use that to your advantage…

But you lost track of thought after that, when Jackson started in on you with either his hands, or the creativity of the instruments on the table nearby. 

You tried to block out the pain, along with his questions about Ben. If you couldn’t talk about him, you couldn’t let yourself think about him. So you couldn’t say anything.

Not about the Novichok nerve agent, one of the few things that had been found to incapacitate him. Not his imprisonment by Vought or the S.A.—nothing that your captor could one day use against Ben.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

Even though all you wanted right now was him. 

Ben, please…

You zoned in and out of consciousness from there.

When you next registered being awake, mercifully, you were left alone. You raised your head when Tom came to blot at least some of your wounds and give you water. You’d only eaten small pieces of protein bars for days. 

“I’m sorry,” Tom whispered.

“Why does he want Ben?” you wheezed. “Why are you going along with this if you’re so damn sorry?”

Tom looked up at you with pain and grief in his blue eyes. He sighed and dragged a nearby chair from the table. He sat beside you while he fed you half a protein bar. It was a struggle to even get the pieces down.

“Last year,” said Tom, clearing his throat. “I lived in the building that Soldier Boy blew up when he got back from…wherever the Russians had him.”

Your eyes widened as you processed that. “You…but you made it out. Why—”

“I wasn’t home. I was at work,” Tom said. His voice was pained as his eyes became red and glassy. “Our mom wasn’t so lucky.”

You sighed, closing your eyes.

“She was retired, and I was taking care of her,” Tom said. He wiped at his eyes and sniffed. “Jackson wasn’t here. He was on a mission in Colombia. Told me he was cleaning up some cartel shit.”

At that, you had a sneaking suspicion that coiled in your gut. Ben had left a bit of a mess when he peaced out of Colombia, with an entire plane filled with drugs and weapons from whatever cartel he’d infiltrated. (In his words, he’d cut the head off the snake.)

Grace told you she’d sent a team in to handle that mess…

“Your brother—who does he work for?” you asked. Though you had a feeling you knew the answer.

Tom seemed to read your understanding, and his face turned grim.

“The CIA,” he said.

Fuck, you grimaced. So not only had Ben been responsible for their mother’s death, but Jackson had been part of the team that cleaned up his mess in South America. It explained why Jackson was somehow able to find your information; Supe Affairs had become a subsect of the CIA, thanks to Grace. 

“I didn’t know he was planning this. I swear to God. All he said was that he had a way to get at Soldier Boy,” Tom said. You let out a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” you said. Tears welled up hot in your eyes. “But you need to let me go. For your own safety, believe me.”

You saw the guilt, the sadness, the regret on Tom’s face. The brief indecision was overtaken when he glanced down the hall. You knew then that he was more afraid of his own brother than he was willing to do the right thing.

Your tears spilled over, though you tried to breathe through it. You’d tried to save them for when you were alone, those seldom few, cold hours, but you were reaching your breaking point.

“Okay, before I go, do you have to use the bathroom?” Tom asked. There was a bucket in the corner, and Jackson preferred it away from the chair. It was the only time Tom was allowed to unchain you from the wall and let you stretch your legs.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, you nodded in agreement. It was humiliating to know you were going to have to do this yet again, in a bucket, with company. With the manacles still on your wrists, he brought you over to the “special” corner.

Tom sighed and looked away to give you some semblance of privacy.

That was when you used every scrap of energy you had left in you.

You grabbed the chain and yanked it out of his hands long enough to wrap it around his neck from behind. You cut off his sounds of strain and kicked out his knees, so he was forced to kneel on the ground.

You wrapped the rest of the chain around your thigh, giving you the leverage you needed to tighten your grip and choke him out, until he was unconscious. His body fell to the side, and you heaved for breath. Once again, there were black spots in your vision, but you did your best to blink them away.

Now set with determination, you made your way to the plastic table and searched for the key to your chains. After the manacles were unlocked, you rubbed at your raw wrists and rapidly scanned the room. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you calculated which way you should go to try and escape.

There were three possibilities in this clearing under the sewer: left, right, or straight ahead. Every time Tom or Jackson emerged, it sounded like it was behind you. The chair was facing to the east, which meant you had to take the left tunnel.

You ran in that direction and tried to find a metal ladder that would take you to whatever manhole cover these guys had detached. Someone couldn’t just open up any of those iron plates without the right tools, from the inside or the outside.

You walked as fast as you could manage, even though your entire body protested in pain. Then finally, you saw a black duffel bag lying on the ground, against the wall. Next to it was a metal ladder that went all the way up to the top.

“Jackson, don’t!”

You heard Tom’s voice, but you felt the presence behind you too late. Jackson hit you in the back of the head with that damn baton, so hard that even he grimaced at how the sound echoed on the walls. You crumpled to the ground.

Jackson stood over you with a grim set to his face. He turned to his brother with a shake of his head.

“She’s a walking welt, and you couldn’t handle her?” he said.

“This is too much,” Tom said in worry. He bent down and held two fingers to your neck. He still felt a pulse, at least, but when he felt behind your head, he found blood. His hand shook as he stared at it.

“If you didn’t want in on this, you should’ve said so from the beginning,” said Jackson. He spun the baton in his hand and clipped the hilt to his belt, from a small metal loop on the end of it.

“You didn’t say anything about…about this!” Tom argued. He cleaned your blood off on his jacket.

Jackson regarded his brother with disappointment, and he hefted you up into his arms. Tom followed him back to their setup with your makeshift prison. There Jackson left you lying on the ground, and chained you back up by your wrists for good measure. He then literally and figuratively wiped his hands of you.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said. “For good this time.”

Tom looked at you, then his brother in shock. There was even emotion in his eyes.   

“We’re leaving her to die,” he said, his voice unsteady. He knew then, that their mother wouldn't have wanted this in her name. If she saw both of them now, she wouldn't recognize them.

Jackson grabbed his younger brother where his neck met his shoulder. An iron grip.

“And what do you think Soldier Boy is going do if he finds us?” Jackson asked. His gaze encouraged Tom to explore that reality for a moment.

Jackson nodded at your unconscious form. “Trust me, that bitch was never going to talk. But this is almost better.”

It wasn’t right, Tom thought. He knew it, deep in his heart, but he wasn’t strong like his brother, or even like you.

That was when they heard it. The rumble of engines dying and tires rolling overhead, dislodging a few stray pebbles and dust from the ceiling. Jackson’s eyes widened. 

“Fuck!” he muttered. “All right, let’s go.”

Jackson forced his younger brother to leave the sewer with him, and leave you chained up on the floor.

Ben, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had done much of the legwork in tracking down Jackson Rawlins and his brother Tom (with help from Annie, Kimiko, and Hughie of course). Frenchie had found your likely location with a powerful thermal scanner, courtesy of Grace.

Now, they’d driven up to the wide alley in the city and blocked off all the exits on the block. Ben was the first to get his boots on the ground and stride toward the point of entry, where according to Frenchie’s scanners, more than one body was holed up in the sewer. He held his shield at his side and at the ready when the manhole cover loosened, and slid open.

A small gas bomb rolled out towards his feet, but it was just tear gas, not the kind of thing that could actually affect him. Ben picked up the little round ball of metal and crushed it in his hand. While the rest of the team dove for the oxygen masks stored in the car, Ben stalked forward.

Seeing the silhouette of a man, Ben threw his shield hard enough to rattle a supe.

Jackson Rawlins was thrown clean onto his back with a force that stole the breath from his lungs, even through his gas mask. It also broke half a dozen ribs. Ben was soon bearing on top of him and ripping off the mask.

Jackson cried out as remnants of the tear gas seared his eyes.

“Got us a runner!” Butcher shouted. He intercepted and grabbed up a second man who tried to escape. Tom Rawlins wasn’t the threat, but he still wasn’t going free. M.M. and Frenchie also dove down into the sewer to try and find you after they got their gas masks on.

Meanwhile, Ben hauled Jackson up by his neck and walked him back until he hit the brick wall beside a nail salon. Jackson grunted in pain. Every breath he took was now agonizing, thanks to his now battered and broken ribs.

“Where is she?” Ben demanded.

Jackson actually laughed in his face, despite his now bloodshot eyes.

“All you fucking supes are the same,” he said. “But you…you’re the worst. Quite literally, the original asshole. And what does the government do? What does the world do? Gives you a pass on decades of indiscretions, fucks ups, and straight up murder.” 

Ben didn’t outwardly react, but he knew what Jackson’s problem was. He knew he killed the man’s family. Collateral damage—something that had caused Ben more than one argument with you in the past.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because all he could see in his mind’s eye was a metal bat hitting the back of your head and knocking you clean out. He saw you being taken against your will. Taken from him. And that, he couldn’t abide.

“Where. Is she?” Ben said, as his grip flexed around the other man’s neck. It would be easy. Easier than snapping a toothpick. And he warned, “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

“Dead, probably,” Jackson spat, despite his red and bleary eyes. “Real tough bitch. I see why you’re fucking her…I had me a little taste myself.”

In that moment, Ben couldn’t compute.

His green eyes widened. His breath stilled.

Then his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth were grinding. A fire in his blood and behind his eyes, and fury that burned hot in his chest, almost giving it that nuclear glow.

His hand tightened and choked any salacious words Jackson might’ve spewed out next.

“He didn’t!” Tom shouted out. He was being restrained by Butcher. Ben glanced at them out of the corner of his eye.  

“He didn’t touch her. Not like that,” Tom said. He looked sincere.  

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” said his older brother. 

It earned Ben’s attention back. Jackson had the look of a man who knew he was going to die either way.

Ben’s lips curled into a sneer. He took the man’s head with both hands, and slowly crushed his skull. The scream echoed between Ben’s ears, but he was only satisfied when Jackson’s lifeless body dropped at his feet.

He turned to the other Rawlins next.

Tom had screamed as well to watch his brother’s life ended before his eyes. He now stared straight into Soldier Boy’s, pleading wordlessly for his own life. Ben started toward him.

“Please,” Tom said. He tried twisting away from Butcher, who held firm to the man’s arm. The Brit knew all too well, the rage that Ben had in his blood.

“Ben,” Annie tried, and she even stepped forward. Butcher held a hand out against her with a knowing look. It wouldn’t be wise to stand in the way.

“Hey!” M.M. shouted up from down the open hatch of the sewer. “We found her! Need help getting her loose.”

Ben paused in his steps. Tom was shaking, lips trembling, petrified.

Tilting his head, Ben let out a subtle breath through his nose. He began to turn back toward the sewer.

At the last moment, however, he drew his gun and shot Tom Rawlins between the eyes. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Annie and Hughie flinched, but Butcher and Kimiko weren’t surprised in the least.

Meanwhile, Ben made his way back towards M.M.’s voice, and into the sewer. He heard M.M. and Frenchie arguing about first aid and head wounds, the further in he went. Ben’s dark mood blackened even more along the way.

Once he reached them, he also reached you, held in M.M.’s arms as he cradled your head.

You were unconscious with your wrists locked into heavy chains. The furrow between Ben’s brows deepened, but he got down to his knees beside you and first, broke your chains. He guided you out of M.M.’s arms and into his own, making sure to support your head. Blood was already staining his half-glove and fingers.

It was then that he noticed the small crimson pool lying where your body had been, likely from the wound he could feel at the back of your head. Ben’s mouth trembled the slightest bit, mostly in anger as he drew himself back onto his feet. Your body was littered with bruises, cuts both shallow and deep made by what looked like a blade, and God knew what else.

“I had me a little taste myself,” Jackson had taunted.

No, Ben internally shook that thought from his mind. No, you hadn’t been touched like that, at least, according to the sniveling, cock-sucking brother.

But can you trust that little cunt’s word?

Ben briefly closed his eyes, pressing his lips to your forehead. He continued walking down the hall and towards the light and fresh air of the world above.

You’re gonna be just fine, he promised you, if just within the safety of his mind.

Yeah, you would be all right.

He was going to make sure of it.

AN: 🫣 I'm sorry...BUT, I can promise it will get better (eventually). First, it's going to get worse.

Next Time:

It was a slow process, and it hurt, but you managed to turn your head. You saw a man sitting in the corner with a laptop balanced on his lap. He typed with two fingers at a time, which reminded you of your grandfather. His brown hair fell over his furrowed brows, but his beard was well trimmed.

His head soon raised, possibly feeling the weight of your gaze. His eyes widened a fraction, and he hastily closed the laptop and set it down on his seat before he went to you. You frowned when he came to sit at your bedside, and even touched your cheek with a gentle hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. “How’re you feeling?”

You didn’t have the energy to lean away from his hand, but you did give him a look of weary confusion.

“I…I don’t…who are you?” you asked.

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):

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