#Dean winchester x reader

[dulcescorderitas]

impala sex

parings: dean winchester x reader

warnings: 18+, smut

the impala’s interior smelled like leather and old pine air freshener, the scent mixing with the sharp tang of sweat and sex in the abandoned parking lot. outside, the world was empty, lit only by the faint glow of a distant streetlamp and the moonlight spilling over cracked asphalt. no witnesses, no interruptions...just you and dean, tangled in the cramped confines of his baby.

your back pressed against the cool vinyl of the backseat, your legs spread wide, hooked over dean’s hips as he loomed over you. his jeans were shoved down just far enough to free his cock, thick and hard, the tip slick with evidence of how badly he wanted you. his hands were everywhere...one gripping your thigh, the other bracing against the fogged-up window as he drove into you, raw and unrelenting.

"fuck," he gritted out, his voice low and strained, the sound vibrating in his chest. "you feel so damn good... so tight, baby. always take me so fuckin’ perfect."

his words sent a shiver through you, your hands scrambling for purchase against his shoulders, nails dragging down his back as your body arched up to meet his thrusts. every movement made the impala bounce, the shocks groaning under the force of him slamming into you. the car rocked in time with his rhythm, the squeak of the seat springs mixing with the wet, obscene sound of your bodies meeting.

"dean," you gasped, your voice breaking on his name, raw with need. your fingers slid into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan, his hips snapping harder in response. the windows were completely fogged now, the heat inside the car a stark contrast to the cool night outside.

"you like this, huh?" he rasped, his green eyes burning as he looked down at you, sweat dripping from his temple. "like gettin’ fucked in my car? makin’ her bounce like this?"

"yes," you moaned, your nails raking down his back, leaving red trails across his skin. "love it. love you."

his face softened for just a second at your words, but his hips didn’t falter. instead, he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head against the seat. "you’re gonna be the death of me," he muttered, leaning down to press his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. it was messy and desperate, all teeth and tongue, and you drank him in like you couldn’t get enough.

his pace grew erratic, each thrust harder than the last, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. the impala groaned and rocked under the strain, the noise loud in the otherwise silent lot. "c’mon, baby," dean urged, his voice rough, his breath hot against your neck. "i need you to let go. need to feel you...God, i need it."

you shattered at his words, your body tightening around him, pulling him deeper as your orgasm ripped through you. the sound you made was somewhere between a moan and a cry, your back arching off the seat as waves of pleasure consumed you.

dean wasn’t far behind, his rhythm faltering before he buried himself inside you with a guttural groan, his grip on your wrists tightening. you felt him spill into you, hot and thick, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he rode out his high.

for a long moment, the only sound was the both of you trying to catch your breath, the occasional creak of the car as it settled back on its suspension. dean finally lifted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looked at the state of you...flushed, spent, and completely his.

"damn," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw. "we’re gonna need to detail the hell outta her after that."

you laughed breathlessly, the sound light in the heavy air. "worth it," you replied, earning a chuckle from him as he shifted, reaching for something to clean you both up.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[cherrygirlfriend]

⟡ ₊ . ༄.° safe in your arms

pairing: dean winchester x reader synopsis: reader wakes up from a nightmare and dean comforts her tags/warnings: smut, oral (fem. receiving), fluff, MDNI! wc: 1.4k a/n; not only does dean eat box, but he eats it backwards, forwards, sideways, on his knees, on his tippytoes, in the morning, in the evenings, at night, in the middle of the day, in the bunker, in the impala, in- you get the gist. thank you to babycakes @gibson-g1rl for giving me the idea w the panties holy lordy ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

dean was never the kind to be a deep sleeper. when you first got together and started sharing a bed, every little thrash you'd made in your sleep was enough to startle him awake, and the first few times it happened, the man had reached under his pillow for his gun.

overtime, though, he got used to you sleeping in his arms, managing to sleep through nearly anything, your movements, squirming around in his arms, the small whines and snores you let out in your sleep, even the occasional times you'd start talking in your sleep about the peanut butter monster.

so, it was odd when he was startled awake in the middle of the night, your warm body nestled in his arms, dean's heart racing. he looked down, smiling fondly at you as his heartbeat started settling down. he sighed, pressing a soft kiss on top of your head, only to realize that the noises you were making weren't the normal whimpers you'd make in your sleep.

your little whimpers were a higher pitch, your breathing was heavy and he could make out soft mumbles of, 'help' as well as his own name leaving your lips.

"sweets?" dean said softly, gently shaking you, "baby, wake up."

after a few more shakes, you were startled awake, your eyes flicking open as you sat up in bed, looking at him with wide eyes, heavy breaths leaving your lips as your heart raced against your chest. you brought your hand to your heart, as if willing it to calm down.

"sorry..." you sigh, your voice still heavy with sleep "did i wake you?"

"don't apologize, silly." dean looked at you with furrowed brows, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "did you have a nightmare, baby?"

you nodded as you settled back into his arms, starting to draw small patterns on his bare chest, a small shiver running down his spine at the contact as he kissed the top of your hear, "you wanna talk about it?"

"just..." a small sigh left your lips, "you were nowhere to be found. that... scared me. It made me feel like you were... actually gone." you swallowed, looking up into dean's eyes as if you were searching for something in the small yellow flecks surrounded by a sea of green, "i don't know what i'd do if you were. i'm so... used to your presence in my life."

his lips twisted into a small smile and he let out a small tut, eyes following his calloused as fingers as they traced the chain of the necklace he'd gotten you for your birthday, "well, sweet girl," he started, looking up into your eyes, his eyes crinkling, "good thing i'm not going anywhere."

"promise?"

"promise." dean pressed a kiss to your lips that was all too fleeting, it always feeling like no matter how many times he pressed his lips on yours, it would never be long enough. his hand traced the strap of your nightgown, "you know what i hear helps with nightmares, sweets?"

"oh? and what's that?"

"orgasms."

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, "and where'd you read that?"

"oh, it was... some science-nerdy magazine thing sammy had laying around. you wouldn't like it. so, wanna give it a try?"

"mmm... who am i to decline some scientific research?"

dean grinned and knelt down on the bed, watching you with a gleam in his eyes as you settled back in bed, your brows raised as if you were challenging him, egging him on.

one thing about dean was that he never rushed when it came to you, and especially when it came to pleasuring you. one of your legs was hooked over his shoulder as his lips made their way up from your ankle at a tortuously slow pace, until they met your knee, one of his hands holding onto your thigh as he drew small, slow circles on your inner thigh that had you clenching around nothing.

from your knee, he kissed up your inner thigh, and it felt like your entire body was clenched in anticipation, each hot press of his lips against your skin making you feel like you were going to die if you didn't feel him right at that moment.

as dean's lips got closer and closer to where you needed him the most, he pushed up the hem of your nightgown until it rested rumpled just over the hills of your breasts. the hand that had pushed your nightwear up kneaded your breast for a moment, your nipple pebbling under his rough hand.

you arched into him once you finally felt his calloused fingers pressing on the damp spot in your lace panties, the man letting out a soft chuckle against the warm skin of your inner thigh, his thumb drawing circles on your puffy clit through the lacy fabric.

"fuck, sweets..." dean groaned as he pressed his nose right at the darkened spot he'd caused, breathing in the scent of your arousal, "she's always so needy for me, huh?" he chuckles, increasing the speed of his thumb.

he flicked his tongue out to taste the patch of fabric with a hum, causing a shiver to run down your spine, "dean..." you whined, as he firmly pressed the fabric of your underwear against your pussy, watching as your arousal started to soak through the fabric. dean ran his finger through your lace-covered slit over and over again until it was practically molded to the shape of your lips.

darting his tongue out, he ran it up the length of your cunt, causing you to let out a gasp as his long fingers teased your entrance through the lace.

"taste s'damn good even through these things..." dean groaned against your pussy, pressing kisses on your clothed folds, "but i think we should take 'em off, huh?" he chuckled, "these must be ruined to all hell, dont'c'ha think?"

"mmhm..." you hummed, your half-lidded eyes watching as dean practically peeled your soaked panties off, slowly sliding them down your legs, looking at the pair with a grin before discarding them, "those are definitely ruined, sweetie."

this time, dean didn't even take a moment to get to where you were aching for him, his eyes glossing over as he looked down at your cunt, practically glistening from how much you needed him. he laid down between your thighs, his muscular arms wrapped around your thighs as he presses a kiss right next to your clit, his stubble tickling your inner thigh, "s'good..."

you let out a surprised yelp when dean immediately started to lap up some of your arousal with his tongue, swirling his tongue around your clit. your hands went to his hair, gripping onto it for your own sanity.

he sucked the puffy bud into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, two of dean's fingers teasing your entrance, gathering some of your wetness before pushing the long digits into you slowly, inch by agonizing inch.

dean thrusted his fingers in and out of you until he finally found a pace that was good for him, one that caused you to grip onto his hair even tighter, that made your legs shake.

you arched into his mouth; you had no idea how he did it; how he managed to touch you in just the right way, to bring you to the edge so easily. every touch made you wish it could last forever, while also knowing that you couldn't take it any longer.

"dean..." you whine, feeling yourself starting to clench around his fingers, "dean, i'm gonna-"

"shhh..." he mumbled against your clit, as if he was too enamored by the taste of you to detach himself from it, to detach himself from you. "just let it happen."

and as you finally felt the pleasure that he'd been building up drop, you let out fervent moans of his name, your hand tugging him closer to your core, the pace of his fingers slowing down as you clenched around them, causing the man to let out a tsk.

after you had finally come down from your orgasm, dean licked a few more stripes up your pussy, mumbling something about 'cleaning up', before his face was right above yours, his lips and chin covered in your arousal as if he had just eaten the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted, his lips twisted up into a grin.

"so, think that'll help you with your nightmares, sweets?

[luvergirl777]

Cleanin' Baby | Dean Winchester

Pairing | Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count | 12.5 k

Genre | Enemies to Lovers, Smut

Summary | Dean can't stand new people, especially people intruding on his life and telling him what to do. You drive him insane, Sam having to separate the two of you before fists and teeth start flying. You finally get under his skin for the last time with your dumb stunts, pushing him over the edge.

Index | Dean and reader fight constantly, Sam is the babysitter, Dean hates you because you are him, you're also incredibly hot, not that he'd admit it, perhaps maybe just a bit he admits it. Unprotected sex, wrap it up folks. Soft dom Dean, a bit of sub Dean. He's whipped and will listen to a pretty girl. Two idiots in love.

Dean is never fond of new people, it takes him a very long time to warm up to newcomers. When the two brothers find you battered and bruised, barely still alive after fending a demon off on your own, he’s a bit impressed. Upon further investigation, Sam watching over you, Dean realizes you had managed to damn it back to hell all on your own. Even more impressed, Dean is confused as to how you managed to survive. “You said it was aggressive?” Dean double checks, wondering if you somehow got lucky and encountered the impossible, un-aggressive demon. Sure, that would explain how you managed to survive on your own. 

“Are you fuckin’ stupid? You think I beat myself up after killing the damn thing?” 

“Well you didn’t technically kill it but-” 

“Oh shut up, pretty boy.” You grit, rolling your eyes as you hold onto Sam’s arm to stand up. Sam, ever so caring, nearly lifts your weight with no effort. He’s supporting all of your weight easily as you try and hobble along to safety. 

“Easy now sassy, you’re about one hit away from dying.”

“You gonna hit me?” The face you give him is unreadable, and Sam is preparing himself to jump in between the two of you if needed. You’ve stopped walking, completely turned around as you face Dean behind you. Dean, never one to back down, takes a step closer to you. 

“Guys, c’mon.” Sam intervenes, pushing his brother by the chest to create some distance between the two of you arguing. “You two sound like a couple of 5 year olds.”

Both you and Dean roll your eyes, and you’re hobbling your way out the door to get to some sort of hospital to get a check up. The pain is actually ridiculous, and if you weren’t so battered, you probably would've fought with Dean more. “Here, let us give you a ride,” Sam offers, quickly chasing you in fear you would topple after leaving his side. 

“She is NOT bleeding all over baby,” Dean protests as Sam walks you out of the door, taking you to the car. Dean closes the door behind him after glancing inside once more, still in disbelief of what the hell is happening. They burst open your door expecting to damn something to hell, and instead found you bleeding out in the middle of the floor. And now you and Dean are arguing as you hobble your way to the back of Baby. 

“You call this car baby?” You roll your eyes, “You gotta take care of her better if you’re gonna call her a fucking pet name. This thing has 2 years of fuckin’ dirt on it. Baby my ass.” Dean almost stops in place, arms raising slightly in defense, jaw dropped as he looks at Sam. Usually you're more pleasant, however, you're battered and bruised and in pain.

After absolutely giving it to Dean, you’re opening the back door and limply climbing in. You’re collapsing against the seat before Dean can jab at you. Dean wants to dish it out once again, and Sam slaps a hand over his mouth. He can’t deal with the two of you, he really can’t. Closing the door behind you, Sam’s turning around to talk sense into his stubborn older brother. “She damned a demon on her own, she could help us.” 

“Her, help us?” Dean scoffs, “Yeah, I’d rather be kicked in the balls.” 

“I’m about to if you don’t shut the hell up,” Sam shoves him around the car, “It could be good, finding someone to put you in your place every now and then.” 

That's how you met, and it’s been years already. Despite being together almost 24/7, you and Dean are still constantly at each other’s throats. If you’re not lashing out at Dean, he’s dishing some snarky shit out to you. Sam stays as uninvolved as he can, always letting you two at it before it’s clear intervention is needed. 

--- 

“You really don’t have to sit there and watch me like some hawk,” Dean’s annoyed as you perch yourself on a stool, watching as he works on Baby. It’s about a million degrees and Dean has refused to drink anything but alcohol and coffee for the past 24 hours, and not to mention it’s the middle of the day with the sun beating down overhead. “I don’t need a babysitter. “

“Sammy’s worried about you, said you’re going to have a heat stroke or pass out. Figure I’d come out here and pester you into coming back inside.” You shrug, completely unbothered as you don’t move from the stool. Your tone is nonchalant, only getting on his nerves more. Baby is technically sound and purring like a kitten on the road, Dean’s just been itching to tinker and a distraction from you waltzing around the bunker. “God know’s Sammy’s not gonna do it-” 

“Stop calling him that?” 

“Calling who what?” 

“Sammy.” Dean mumbles, already turning around from you to focus back on the engine. You’re already getting on his nerves, and if he looks at you any longer you’ll succeed in pestering him back into the house. “Go back inside and tell my nerdy little brother I’m fine out here. By myself.” 

“Sam’s not gonna take that for an answer.” You’re still calm and collected, leaning forward on the stool as you get a closer look at what Dean’s doing. You watch his hands work, nimble and quick as he easily gets into every corner he wants. There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips at your thoughts, and you’re trying awfully hard not to laugh loudly. Dean can almost hear the joke writing itself in your head, and feel the smile growing on your face. “You know you’re really good with your fingers-” 

“Okay! You win!” And he’s storming back into the bunker to get water from an expectant Sam in the kitchen, already in a glass with ice. “Don’t.” He speaks to him, raising a finger to Sam. He can already hear the thoughts in his head, too. 

---

“Oh really, that’s your smart ass plan?” You mumble, listening to Dean attempt to explain the plan of waltzing into a bank and trying to sweet talk a bank teller to the vault. It would never in a million years happen, regardless of how annoying charming Dean could be. No one is that stupid, not even a bank secretary who doesn’t know who Dean is. 

“Well, if you have anything better, please enlighten me.” He’s slamming the folder down on the table in front of you, crossing his arms. 

“Anything is likely better-” When you stand up from your seat, and Dean steps toward you, Sam is quick to intervene before you two start dishing it out. 

“OKAY!” Sam basically yells to get your guy’s attention. You two calm down, you sitting down, Dean stepping away from you, and Sam finally taking a breath. 

---

Or the one time you drove Baby, absolutely full throttling her around turns as if you were a professional driver. In your defense, you didn’t crash and actually handled it quite well. Poor Sam is laying down in the back of the car, injured and praying you get to the hospital soon. But Dean was about to have a heart attack in the passenger seat of his car. He’s pressed against the door with the force you’re jerking the car around, gripping anything he can reach. 

“Never again, never again.” Dean almost prays underneath his breath, but he’s not and never will be a religious man.

---

Or the one time you were the bait for some creepy old man, needing to steal a weapon he had on display in his house. You were in the middle of his bed, about to fake vomit as he ran his hands along your waist. “Listen, I heard something you had. Something very impressive, an ancient weapon of sorts.” You purr, rolling your eyes as he goes along with it. 

“Of course I do, it’s in my office. I can show you after we’re done here.” He mumbles, and you’re swinging and clocking him against his temple, toppling him over. He lands with a thud on the hardwood floor, knocked out cold. At the commotion, Dean is bursting through the door. 

“HEY!” Dean screams, puffed up and ready for action. 

“He’s knocked out, dick for brains.” You mumble, climbing off of the bed and adjusting your dress which had ridden almost all the way up to your waist. He swears he catches a peek of the pink panties you’re wearing, but for his benefit, he’s trying to convince himself he saw nothing at all. News flash, not and never was going to work. Dean watches with wide eyes, his gaze following and trailing along your bare skin down to your thighs as you cover yourself back up. “Thanks for caring, pretty boy.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, walking over to the man that is unconscious against the hardwood floor. He’s mumbling something underneath his breath, landing one more blow onto the old bastard, before finally catching back up with you in the office. 

—-

You and Dean are on a hunt the first time he lays hands on you. You both had been separated, running and hiding in respective locations of the mouldy, broken down house. Dean’s frantic and stressed after hearing you yelp on the other side of the house, rushing over to find you and seeing no one. He's running around the house at this point, stopping for two seconds in the middle of the hallway to try and find his thoughts. 

A hand grabs his shoulder, grip hard enough to leave bruises underneath his jacket. He's whipping around before he can even think another thought, hand balled up into a tight fist as he spins. It’s too late to pull his punch when he realizes, eyes wide as he makes contact with your confused expression. He can pull it about 90%, softening the impending blow to your cheek bone. He's yelping for you when his fist makes contact with your skin, already groaning at himself. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Sorry! You scared me.” Dean’s explaining immediately, arms catching you before you even have the chance to stumble backwards from the blow. He cradles you before you can air out your grievances, one hand coming to hold your cheek in betrayal. “I thought they had you, god I thought they had you.” He mumbles as he holds you, reassuring both you and himself that you’re okay, or trying to at least. 

“Dean, god.” You groan, peering up to look at him. “Let's finish this job, please, without any more collateral damage.” You mumble, shuffling around to find your knife. “Fuckers took my blade.” 

“It's okay, I'll get them.” Dean mumbles, quickly pressing his lips to your hairline before letting you go. You stay behind Dean, this time a considerable distance, as he finishes the job and gets the both of you out of there safely. Dean has reason now, speeding out of there like hell after killing anything in his path. 

Getting back to the bunker, Dean parks the car and doesn’t move an inch. You already know why, and you already know the speech he’s about to dish out. “Listen-“ 

“It’s not your fault.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head. You already have a bruise forming on your cheek despite Dean doing his best to pull his punch. The guilt eats him every time you look at each other and he has to divert his eyes. 

“Alrighty,” Dean presses his lips together as he thinks of another solution. “Give me one,” Dean nods, waving his hands to get you to come closer. You scoff at him, shaking your head as you fight off the laugh that bubbles. You’ve seen him and Sam go at each other like this, getting even in a way only brothers can. He taps his cheek, looking to the side. “Give me two, actually. One to make it even, one for putting my hands on a woman.” He waves you closer, dead serious. 

“Dean-“ 

“Lay 'em on me, one at a time, back to back, hard as you want, doesn’t matter, come on.” He’s still looking away from you, refusing to take no for an answer and he waits for the blows to land. He didn’t mean to, you know it, and you know he’s going to feel bad for a while. You scoff and shuffle, Dean tenses as he waits for the blow. You kiss his cheek, grabbing his face and turning it, before kissing his other cheek. 

“There, two blows, back to back.” You smile, “Now let’s go inside so I can get ice for my cheek.” 

Dean’s blushing like an idiot before scurrying after you, “I'll get the ice, you go lay down!” 

---

You had been sick for well over a week while the boys were on a job, sitting by yourself in a house and working as the information specialist for the time being. When they would call, you’d give them all the information you had been collecting within the past couple of hours. Always hours, never days, because you’d get too worried about them. Dean, not admitting it, also calls every couple of hours to make sure you’re still kicking. You sound like hell, and it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that you are not taking care of yourself while they’re away. 

Sam’s out on a home visit, and Dean is fidgeting with his phone in his hands. Pressing buttons, deleting the numbers, and the cycle repeats itself. Finally putting his big girl panties on, he dials your contact and calls. “Dean? Is everything okay?” Your voice is worried, the call slightly random from the semi-schedule you guys have grown accustomed to. 

“Hey, hey, yeah we’re good. Sam’s just out making some runs, you know.” He sounds awkward and like a loser, he already knows it. He can pretty much hear Sam’s voice mocking him. “Just wanted to call, see how you’re holding up. Taking that medicine I got? Eating everyday?” He’s interrogating you, for your well being of course. 

“The medicine you got me is like ketamine…or something.” You laugh. 

“What?! It is not-” 

“It so is! Some random pills you got from who knows where, from who knows, and you’re telling me to take them?” You’re scolding him softly, but he can still hear the humour in your voice. 

“Whatever, when we get back I’m gonna smother you back to good health.” You roll your eyes at this, Dean knows that without even being in the room with you. “Pills and all.” 

“Dean, whatever. Just don’t die and get back here soon.” You laugh softly on the other side of the phone. Dean can hear the tone of your voice, almost pleading with him. In your defense, the two of them had been gone for over a week on the job including travel time to get there. 

--- 

Dean will never admit it but after that he gets softer around you, starts looking out for you more than he lets on. He’s a softie, even if he won’t show it. The first time Dean almost dies since you’ve joined the team, it’s the first close call the three of you have had to someone actually dying. Sure, the three of you have been hurt and wounded, but nothing quite like when Dean’s guts were outside of his body for far too long to actually be okay. 

He’s been in surgery for hours at this point, Sam had left a while ago to try and put some distance in between him and his brother possibly dying in front of him. You’re left in the cold waiting room by yourself, elbows on your knees as you wait. Your face has been rubbed more times than you can count, one more and your face will come off. You curse Sam for leaving you alone, but part of you does understand as well. 

You rocket out of your seat at the beginning of “D-” whipping around to face the nurse before she can even finish his name. You’re frantic, sure, but you can’t help it. “Dean? Is it for Dean?” Your voice comes out more of a mumble, the poor nurse nodding her head softly. She leads a shaky you to his room, heart in your feet. The nurse stops at the front, stepping to the side to allow you to walk in on your own. It takes all willpower in your body to not immediately crumble to the floor at the sight. Dean’s eyes are open, squinted almost completely shut, as his head rolls over to the side to look at you. 

His eyes widen the slightest bit at the sight of you and not Sam and the tears immediately begin flowing down your face. You try hard not to audibly sob, but it’s taking a lot of effort. “H-hey, Dean.” You sound pathetic as you shuffle over to the side of his bed, almost scared that your presence alone will send him back into a near death state. As soon as you make it to the side of the bed, his arm reaches over and brushes against your leg. “You fucking dick!” You’re hysterical as he makes contact. “You can’t scare me like that! Ever! Don’t ever do that again!” Absolutely ridiculous as you crumble down onto the bed, your arms wrapping around his head. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re okay.” He’s quick to comfort you, arms weakly wrapping around your waist. He grunts with the effort it takes in his current state. You’re almost climbing into the bed with him at this point, not wanting to let go of him. He’s trying not to cry with your state of general mess, seeing you so upset is getting him emotional. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, Dean. God, I was so scared. Sorry. Sam is just out to get some air. You know how he deals with this, I’m sure they’ve called him.” You’re prying your arms away from his form, sitting down on the bed next to him. Maybe it’s the hysterics, but you’re running your fingers through his hair and gently holding his face in the other hand. Leaning forward, you place the shakiest kiss on his forehead. “You’re never allowed to go by yourself ever again.” Sam walks in on the two of you like this, you obsessively petting his head while holding his face in the other palm. Your entire face is wet at this point, tears soaking your features. 

Sam lets you sit for a moment longer, the wet patch on your shirt indication that this is needed. Eventually, he has to butt in otherwise Dean will think his brother hates him. When he finally clears his throat, you almost scatter away from Dean.  

---

Eventually, you become a part of the little family they have. It takes a long time for Dean to come around, and Sam takes less time. When Sam lets you call him Sammy for the first time without correcting you as he does everyone else, Dean knows you're in for the long haul. Technically it’s the first and only time you’ve called him Sammy in front of him, the circumstances and situation making you talk before thinking. 

Sam and Dean had been fighting the entire job, at each other’s throats for something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Usually it’s banter and general sibling bickering, but this time it’s different. The tipping point comes when Dean mumbles something under his breath in the hotel room after a long day, Sam immediately reacting as he jolts up. Before you can even comprehend what the argument is about, fists are flying and the two are grappling each other. You’re watching with wide eyes, never quite seeing the two get this distant from each other. Sam is Dean’s baby brother, he’d do anything for him. 

“Guys, what, stop!” You mumble, trying to intervene as Sam has gotten Dean pinned by the throat underneath him. You know they wouldn’t do any permanent damage to each other, but you still feel your stomach flip at the position. “Guys, please!” Your eyes are watery and you’re trying with all of your force to pull Sam off of him. Sam, easily outweighing you, doesn’t budge an inch and is just more annoyed at you pulling him. 

“If you want to leave, leave. We don’t need you.” Dean spits, pushing at Sam’s arm that remains at his neck. Sam clenches his jaw, clicking his tongue. 

“I won’t come back this time.” Sam spits, deadly serious. You’ve never heard Sam this serious in the entire time you’ve known him, not on a hunt, not on an investigation, nothing. Dean’s about to say something before you’re slapping a hand over his mouth. You’re crying at this point, pathetically holding Sam’s arm as you rest your face against his shoulder. You can’t move him. 

“Sammy, please.” You cry, a horrid sob leaving your throat as you plead with him. Even Dean looks sideways at you, shocking him as well. At the plea, Sam steps back, releasing the pressure he’s holding Dean to. “Sammy, stop. You can’t leave us, we need you, please.” You cry softly, letting go of Dean’s face to hold Sam’s arm instead. 

“I- I’m sorry.” Sam mumbles softly, shrugging you off his arm in favour of pulling you into his embrace. “It’s okay, we’re okay. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam mumbles, trying to console you. You nod into his chest, reaching over to hold Dean’s face rather than slapping your hand over it. Dean leans into it, pushing his cheek into your palm. For the first time, it’s you being the negotiator between the two brothers rather than Sam being in between you and Dean. And for the first time, it was actually scary. 

---

With Sam, Dean doesn’t keep tally on who saves who’s ass. He’s family, it’s expected. And with you, he doesn't either. (He totally does, he just won’t admit it. However, you’re two up on him, and it kills him every time he thinks about it.) He swears to himself he’ll make it even eventually. 

---

Dean’s final straw is you washing Baby, wearing an all too small bikini as you wash the grime off of her. You had been giving him shit for it for awhile now, always quoting his dad on how he should’ve been taking better care of the car. It kills him, always being lectured about his precious baby that has been HIS car for years now. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, the front door of the house you’re staying in swinging open. He’s walking out just enough to watch closer, arms crossed as he stands on the sidewalk to the front door. You’re in the driveway, squatted down, washing the rims when he interrupts you. 

“Washing your dirty ass car.” 

“And why would you do that?”

“I have to ride around in the thing, it might as well look nice.” You shrug, continuing to wash. Your back is facing him when you talk, and Dean is watching almost your every move. His eyes trail down your back, over the curve of your ass, before landing on your thighs. They flex underneath your weight, a sight for sore eyes as he watches you. 

“No, smart ass, why are you doing it? Shouldn’t I be the one to wash my own car?” Dean mumbles, moving closer to you. You don’t budge, still crouched down next to his car. When he walks closer, it’s immediately a bad idea, and it’s too late before he realizes. 

“Well, you haven’t in let's say, the better part of 2 years so,” For the first time since he’s talked to you, you break your focus to look at him. Much closer to you, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. Still squatted down, in that tiny ass bikini you’re wearing. It covers enough of you to be legal, but god damn it, he’s reeling. 

“Don’t, don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?!” 

“Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing.” Dean grits his teeth, squinting his eyes as he stares down at you. 

“What I know I’m doing is washing your car. You’re the one that came out here for whatever reason. To fight with me? Who fuckin’ knows.” You turn your attention back to the car, “You can help me, instead of sitting there and bitching. Shirt off though, that’s a requirement.” You laugh out the last part, reaching to the side and throwing soap at him. It makes his white shirt see through, showing his skin through the cloth. 

“This is ridiculous,” Dean sighs, rolling his eyes. For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to play along. For a moment,  you’re sure he’s just going to walk back into the house. You smile softly when he’s pulling his shirt off, throwing it somewhere back towards the front door. You giggle, now playing a game with him. You smile as he reaches into the bucket, taking another sponge and beginning to wash the back rim. 

In the time you’ve known him, Dean is easy to rile up. Some good banter, a few batted eyelashes, maybe even look up at him, and he’s a goner. You’ve seen him get more numbers at bars than you can count on both hands and feet, never leaving a town without one. It’s a part of why you’ve never made  a move, because you know him. And you know his type, and you know what he likes to do. Just a little bit of fun, a little playing here and there. Regardless, it’s fun. 

You giggle, moving from the rim you’re washing to the hood. You’re leaning over the hood, bending at the hips to reach the top. Dean stands up from the back, determined to watch you wash the hood. He scoffs softly, walking around to you. “You’re doing this wrong,” He mumbles. 

“You haven't washed this in years and you’re lecturing me?”

“Just, shut the hell up for a second.” He mumbles, reaching around you to move your arm. He moves the sponge in circular motions, leaning over you. His hips barely make contact with yours, only the side of his hip brushing against your ass. If he moves over a single step, he’d be completely behind your bent over form. Suddenly, it’s all too much, he’s too close, and you’re so incredibly warm. “What, you’re finally listening to me for once?” Dean chuckles at your silence. 

You’re quiet, face beginning to flush. “Not listening, smart ass. I’m just learning the right technique, according to you.” You’re pressing your ass against the hip that’s next to you, trying for the life of you to get him to move. His hand flys down to grab at your waist, holding you still. You’re still in this ridiculously small bikini, and his hand is now on your bare skin. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Dean mumbles, his head falling forward slightly. His forehead hits your shoulder for a moment before he’s pulling himself up. Putting some space in between you, his hand still remains on your waist. For a moment, a realization hits him at how small your waist is, especially compared to his hands on your skin. 

“If i’m not, who else would be?” You giggle, leaning further forward to reach the very top of the hood. From his teaching, you wash small circles. “You know, everyone’s out of the house until later tonight, right? Some dinner, poker match. I’m surprised you didn’t go with them.” 

“What’re you saying, hm?” Dean mumbles, once again leaning over you. This time, he’s slightly more behind your hips, giving you more leverage to press back against him. 

You smile, feeling his chest hit your back as he leans forward, head beginning to nestle in the crook of your neck as he talks, lips brushing against your ear. As his weight falls further onto you, you allow your arms to fold as he presses against your back. You rest on your forearms, the change in position pressing harder into his hips. 

“Was this your plan the entire time, hm?” Dean grits, one hand moving to adjust your jaw, pushing your head to the side to make you look at him. “Wear this slutty excuse of a bikini, walk out here and wash my prized possession, get me to join? Hm?” 

“I wouldn’t say the entire time,” You giggle. “Maybe just since you walked out here.” You shrug, whining when he adjusts his hand, allowing his hand to move from your jaw to your neck. 

“This is unfair,” Dean mumbles, softly biting into your shoulder. “My favorite girl, out here washing my favorite car, and you expect me not to take the bait?” 

He allows his hand to move, instead of holding your waist, he holds your abdomen, pushing you back against him. You can feel him pressed against your skin, able to slot his hard cock in between your folds when you move a certain way. The fabric leaves little to the imagination, and he can feel the heat in between your legs. 

“You gonna be mean, and take me right here? Or be nice and take me to the bedroom hm?” You tease him, moaning softly when he grinds against you. 

“You know me, I like it all. So both.” He smiles, and though you can’t see it, you know. His fingertips dip underneath your bathing suit bottoms, trailing down to exactly where you need him. “You’re fucking soaked,” Dean mumbles, “You were thinking about this for awhile, huh? Pretending to just be washing my car, what a load of shit.” Dean mumbles, groaning softly as his fingers slip through your folds. He rubs gentle circles into your clit, slowly building pressure. 

“You, I, just maybe.” You whimper, immediately weak in the limbs as he toys with you. The circles speed up, drawing out the softest whines and whimpers. He chases the noises as if it’s his own high, humming along softly when you let out a particularly loud whimper. 

“How long have you been thinking of this, hm?” Dean asks, snaking one arm behind you as he gently slips a finger into your pussy, slow and careful in his movements. You whine even louder, tightening around his fingers as he slips in another, fucking into you while rubbing your clit with his other hand. He’s adamant, chasing your high before thinking of himself. “Answer me,” 

“Not long, since you’re all over every single girl you can get your hands on.” You mumble, riling him up. He fucks more roughly into you, grinding harshly against your g-spot. “Just need some relief, and you’re the only one here.” You’re lying through your teeth. 

“You know all that shit is just me messin’ around, and you’re a bad liar, you know that?” Dean mumbles, beginning to kiss along any skin he can reach. “This wet? And you expect me to believe this is for anyone, hm? I bet if Sammy came out here, you would’ve immediately covered up, huh, hide all of this.” His hands reach up to pull at your bikini top, exposing your tits to his touch. He roughly gropes and feels your skin, twisting and pulling at your nipples, punishing you for riling him up. 

“Okay, maybe not Sammy.” You shrug, “I could find a cutie at the bar, though, I’m sure.” His hand moves forward to wrap around your throat once again, squeezing just enough to make your mind fuzzy and to stop talking like a smart ass. 

“But you wouldn’t, if you wanted to, you would’ve already done it.” He shrugs, you can feel the movement against your shoulders. You’re close, squeezing down around him. You don’t even have to tell him, he’s already teasing and pulling your strings before you can speak. “See, who else can rile you up like this, hm?” 

“Can you make me cum, or are you all talk Dean?” You grit, almost unable to speak with him all over you like this. Every sense of you is filled with him, he’s all you can think of. 

“Yeah, sure,” He laughs softly when you clench hard around him, teetering close. “You don’t have to tell me you’re close, I can feel it. If you keep being smart with me, I can stop. It won’t take much, you know, rip this pretty little orgasm away from you in a second.”

His fingers slow, no longer giving you the stimulation you need to actually cum. “Please, please, I’m sorry. Please make me cum.” You plead with him. 

“There she is,” He laughs, speeding up once again to allow you to fall off the edge. When you come undone, it’s violent. Your legs shake, you tighten around him, and you thank god for baby underneath you to hold your weight up. Dean forces you to ride out the high, slowing down only barely to not push you into over-stimulation. 

“Fuck me.” You mumble, roughly pulling him closer to you. It doesn’t matter how, you need it. “Now, Dean, unless you can’t get it up in your old age-”

He slips one of his fingers into your mouth, roughly pulling on your cheek. “A please would be nice, huh Pretty girl?” Dean mumbles, and you can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. It’s fast and hasty, and you already know he’s pissed off with you constantly nagging him. “Just demand demand demand, whine whine whine.” Dean grits, roughly pulling your bottoms to the side, “Is that all you do, huh?” He’s pushing into you before you can react, pulling a loud moan from you as he holds your mouth open. 

“Fuck, fuck, thank you,” You whimper, squeezing around him tightly. He bottoms out, grinding against your hips as he savours the feeling of being completely inside you. His hips are rough, battering into you with little remorse. Fucking the smart ass out of you, that’s what he’s gonna do or die trying. From the mewls and whimpers slipping past your lips without your control, he feels he’s doing a pretty good job. 

“That’s more like it, there’s my girl.” Dean groans, cock throbbing at hearing you finally shut up for the first time, literally, since he’s met you. For once in his life, you aren’t spitting some sarcastic ass shit at him, and he’s not spitting it back at you. “Feels good hm, does my girl feel good?” Dean’s deep voice sends goosebumps across your skin, the vibrations running through you like a live wire as you work yourself up further. 

“Your girl, hm? That’s new.” You mumble, moaning softly when his grip moves to press down on your tongue, stopping you from talking. Drool pools around his finger, and he groans when you wrap your lips around it, tongue moving slightly underneath his touch to run along the pad. 

“Is that a problem?” 

You can’t respond, and he knows it. You clench tightly around him, a vice grip in response, and he almost genuinely laughs at how needy you are for him. His hips react immediately to you, thrusting rougher into you, chasing the pleasure the both of you are feeling. Moving his grip from your waist, he begins rubbing tight circles against your clit, trying to get you over the edge. It doesn’t take much to get you to fall over the edge, legs shaking underneath both of your weight. 

“Good girl, easy, easy, ride it out. Don’t hurt yourself now,” Dean patronizes you gently, continuing to chase his own high. 

“Cum, cum Dean, please.” You mumble around his fingers, tightening around even further. You’re so tight and just absolutely soaked that he’s spilling into you soon after, chanting your name gently in your ear as he comes undone. “Fuck, fuck,” You mumble, finally beginning to relax as he slows down his movements. 

“C’mon pretty girl, I gotta give you the second half of my promise.” Dean laughs softly, “Or not, if you can’t take it.” 

“If I can’t take it? Are you kidding me?” You smile, carefully pushing yourself up on your hands, glancing back at him. “Let’s go, your bed so I don’t have to wash my sheets later.” At this, Dean rolls his eyes, of course. Still, the second you turn around to face him, he’s hoisting you up onto his waist, pushing at your legs to get you to wrap around his torso. He carries you easily, walking through the empty house and straight to his room. Your back hits the bed, Dean toppling with you soon after. 

“Gonna make soft mushy love to me, huh Dean?” You joke with him, your legs still wrapped around his torso, arms holding his head in your palms. 

“After bending you over Baby, yeah. Best of both worlds or whatever they say.” Dean smiles, his characteristic smirk etched on his face. His head dips down slightly, softly kissing against your jaw, moving down to your neck, before sucking light marks into your chest. Far enough down not to be interrogated by Sammy later, but enough to leave a reminder of him. His head continues to trail down, hands pulling at your bikini bottoms while he bites at your thighs, once again leaving his mark on your otherwise perfect, unbroken skin. 

“Never would’ve thought I’d have you here like this, hm?” He’s rolling his eyes at you, moaning softly when your hands come to pull at his hair. Your thighs rest on his shoulders, tightening the slightest bit around his head when he draws closer, finally making contact with you. “Fuck Dean, you gonna be nice, Dean, please?” 

“To you, of course.” 

Dean is skilled, to say the least. He knows what he’s doing, where he needs to work, what strings he needs to pull, how to get you there. Dean isn’t quiet about his skills either, you’ve heard sly remarks about the girls at bars, road side pubs, and everything in between. He’s living up to his legend, your thighs clamping around his head within minutes. You don’t let him get any smart ass remarks in, pulling him closer when you know he’s about to make fun of you. You control him so easily, muscular legs holding him in place. He’s not going to tell you, you’d never let him live it down, but he’s absolutely shaking at the thought of the hold you have over him. 

“Gonna cum for you Dean, you’re gonna make me cum.” You whine, thighs flexing to grind against his face. He moans into you, caught off guard by your movement. You do it again, whimpering when you realize he likes this, he’s into this. “Cumming, fuck, cumming.” 

His hands move to run along your thighs, trying to calm the shaking underneath his touch. “Good girl, so good for me.” Dean praises. Before he can react, you’re ripping him up. You're holding anywhere you can, forcing Dean to hover over you, legs once again around his waist. 

“You gonna let me kiss you, or is that crossing a line?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please.” Dean mumbles, sighing deeply when you immediately connect your lips. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck, pulling him as close as physically possible. Dean wants to melt into you, fuse with you. He’s riling himself up, he knows that, but he swears your lips on him are heaven sent, curing his soul from whatever horrors it has been forced through. Like a breath of fresh air, like he’s alive again. He’d never tell you that, he can only imagine your reaction and the shit you would give him. 

You’re kissing him as if your life depends on it, hands tangling in his hair. Dean could kiss you for hours and not complain, he could do this all day if you’d let him. He’s unsure of how long you’ve been kissing him like this, so needy and whiny underneath him, but he doesn’t care. When he pulls away to catch his breath, your lips are slightly swollen, slick with saliva. Your face has flushed a bright red from the kiss, making you look cute despite being in such a lewd state. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” Dean mumbles, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you. 

You blush softly, but you try to hide it as just flushed cheeks. “Don’t get too sweet on me now.” You smile, tightening around his waist with your legs. 

“Right, right.” Dean smiles, fighting off a laugh when you reach to unbuckle his belt. He’s kicking the jeans off in record speed, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him move that fast. He’s back with you just as fast. “Holy shit,” Dean mumbles, shaking as his cock slides in between  your folds, easily sliding with your slick. It’s so intimate that he’s unused to it, and there’s the smallest fear in his chest that he won’t last having you like this. “Fuck, pretty girl.” 

You whine as he pushes in, so slow that it makes you squirm underneath him. Bottoming out, he allows his head to fall forward, landing in the crook of your neck. “Dean,” 

“Just, fuck, give me a second.” 

“It’s okay,” You mumble, understanding his situation. While you’re understanding, you’re not forgiving as you clench around him like a vise. Your hands reach around, holding his back as you pull him close. You kiss along his skin, waiting until he calms down. 

Dean groans, unbelievable, it’s unbelievable how he’s stuck like this. “I can’t believe this shit,” Dean mumbles, drawing away from you to hook your legs over his elbows, folding you in half when he leans forward again. Finally having some sort of advantage, he’s able to target exactly where he needs to hit. “I feel like a fuckin teenager again.” 

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” You laugh, relishing in the moans that slip past his lips. Finally getting his wits about him, he’s able to finally move, grinding against you. Dean’s not going to last, he knows that, as he begins gently rubbing light circles into your clit. He’s gotta get some sort of leverage, something. Bending further forward, you’re covered entirely by his weight. When your lips gently connect with his, Dean thinks he could conquer the world. Kissing him so gently, so sweetly, has him absolutely reeling. 

“I love you,” Dean blurts, before he can even think to stop it. You don’t think he means it, not in any other way than being horny and worked up. “God, I fucking love you,” He mumbles again, shrugging your legs off of his arms in favour of caging you underneath him, head in between either of his arms as he kisses you. His hips don’t slow for a second, kissing you and chasing his high as if his life depends on it. He’s hitting your g-spot and grinding against your clit at the same time, kissing you as if he would die otherwise, and pressing all of his weight onto you. 

You can’t answer or speak, can’t tell him off for saying that shit mid-fuck. Maybe it’s the position that has him acting up, or it’s the softest he’s fucked in awhile and he doesn’t know how to behave. You’re pulling him closer by his back, kissing him back just as feverishly. 

“Cum for me pretty girl, please, need to feel you wrapped around me.” Dean moans, trailing a hand down in between your bodies. He’s on a mission, truly, needing to get you there before he can allow himself to. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” 

“Dean,” You whine, “Sensitive, ‘m sensitive.” You complain, overstimulated and worked up. 

“I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me, just one more. Come for me one more time, please. I need it, hm?” Dean pleads with you, “Doing so well for me, taking my cock so well.” Him talking you through it is almost all you need to tip over the edge, the smallest bit of stimulation you need. Throwing your head back, you can’t even look at him when you come undone. Dean kisses along your exposed neck, not leaving any marks for your own sake. 

“Please, please, Dean. Come, no more.” You whine, tightening around him from over-stimulation. You need him to cum, and have a break. You don’t have to tell him twice, hell, you don’t even have to tell him once. He’s been on edge since he brought you into his fucking room. His head is buried in your shoulder, and you whimper when he bites down into the skin. 

You’re so sore and over-stimulated, mumbling as his hips finally slow in their movement. “Y/n,” Dean is mumbling along with you, “Easy pretty girl, you’re okay,” He attempts to soothe you. “Listen, what I said.”

“Don’t do this Dean, it’s okay.” 

“I meant it, I mean it still.” Dean explains, carefully sliding out, careful to not accidentally stimulate you any further. You’re still caged underneath him, his arms around your head. 

“You don’t have to tell me that, it’s okay, really. Heat of the moment, or whatever.”

“Please, listen. I mean it.” He’s speaking so softly it’s genuinely been awhile since you’ve heard this tone, and it’s never been with you. With Sammy, likely. “I know you don’t believe me, and I wish I saved it for a more romantic moment, I do. But I do mean it.” 

“Is this what you say to every girl-”

“I haven’t been with anyone in forever, you know that. Getting a number is different, that’s just me trying to get information Y/N.” Dean speaks, pulling himself further off of you, giving you space. He’s reaching for his bag, trying to find something to cover you with. He finds a t-shirt, carefully putting it over your head. It goes down to your thighs, covering you. He’s snatching his boxers next, he’s gotta have some decency for this conversation. “I love you, Y/n. You don’t have to say it back, but you deserve to know the truth at least.” 

He’s fully prepared to be shut down, given your reaction thus far. You lean forward, and he thinks you’re about to climb away from him, move out of his bed. Your lips softly connect with his, the gentlest kiss. He’s smiling like an idiot into the kiss, almost unable to kiss you from the extent of his smile. “We can’t tell Sammy, he’ll think you’ve lost it.” Dean almost giggles at this, yes, giggles. What has gotten into him? What the actual hell is happening right now? Still, he nods along with you in agreement. 

“We can’t tell Sammy, or you don’t want to tell Sammy?” 

You’re rolling your eyes. “We don’t have to tell Sammy, he’ll know.” It’s the truth, he’ll figure it out before you or Dean even have a chance to tell him. Dean nods again, the faintest of smiles beginning to spread across his face again. It grows tenfold when you’re leaning forward, cupping his face in your palms, and once again kissing him. He’s shaking when you lean forward, forcing his back to hit the bed, your legs soon straddling his hips. You’re fully seated on his lap, legs underneath his body to give you more leverage to plant yourself against him. 

Your hands wrap around his head, pulling him into you. “Dean, say you love me again.” You mumble, diving back in to kiss him. He can barely mumble the words out, speaking with your lips on his the entire time. Not knowing it was possible, you’re kissing him harder. 

“Riling yourself up, pretty girl?” Dean chuckles softly, hands holding your waist snugly. His grip tightens when you grind against him, drawing out a strangled moan. Dean’s head falls back, face scrunching up. He can’t watch you grind against him in his t-shirt, he really can't. You’re so warm it makes him shake, completely bare as you grind against his boxers. You’re soaking through the cloth, he can feel it. He curses his old age in the back of his head, regretting he can’t recover as easily as he used to. You’re not too much younger than him, but it’s still making him frustrated as you’re ready for round 3. 

“Dean,” Your voice comes out as a whine, your body slumping forward as you curl into his warmth. Your hips continue to grind against his, lips running along his skin. You’re fighting off the urge to leave marks on his skin, losing yourself in the feeling of being close to him. 

“C’mon pretty girl, show me what you’re made of.” Dean’s already regretting his words. He knows you’re quite literally going to make him eat them. Your feet remain underneath his body, flexing as you seat yourself more heavily against him. Your hands move all over his body, finally stopping in his hair as you connect your lips with his. Deans losing his mind. He feels his thighs shake when you lift your weight up and reach down, pushing his boxers down past his hips. He assists you momentarily as he lifts both of your weight off the bed for easier removal. “Gonna make me regret my taunting?” 

“You know it.” You almost giggle, and it only solidifies his belief that he will, in fact, eat his words. You’re soaking wet as you make contact with him, easily sliding through your folds as you slowly and carefully rock your hips. Without warning, in one swift roll of your hips, he’s sheathed inside of you all the way to the hilt. 

“Fuck, fuck, goddamn it.” Dean’s head is thrown back against the pillow, muscles straining in his neck with the force he’s exerting. Your hips grind and roll against his, drawing the prettiest moans from yourself. Dean knew this was gonna happen, and yet he’s shocked that it is. “Should’ve, fuck, picked my words better.” 

Dean shuffles against the bed, sitting up so his back rests against the headboard. He easily pulls you along with him, hands securely holding you by the hips. He’s closer this way it feels like, can smell the sex and heat rolling off of your body. Your arms wrap around his head loosely, leaning down to connect your foreheads together. “Wanna cum like this Dean.” Your breath is basically a pant, grinding rougher as you chase whatever high you have left. 

“Do what you want, please, use me.” Dean’s losing it as he leans forward and marks your skin, too fucked out to even think about what he’s actually doing. You’re going to scold him for this later, something he’s almost sure of, but he can’t bring it in himself to care. You’re coming undone embarrassingly soon, clenched tightly around him as your thighs shake gently. Your hips never stop moving, riding out your high long past the comfortable point. “My girl, my good girl,” Dean is cooing, almost babbling when he watches you use him. 

He’s so overstimulated and so worked up it hurts, but he’ll grit his teeth and bare it if it means he gets to have you like this. You’re arguably more overstimulated than he is, legs shaking and small mewls or moans unconsciously slipping past your lips. He’s moving before you can react, your back hitting the bed. His hips pick up immediately where yours left off, pace barely faltering. You’re soaking wet, the sounds sending a shiver up his spine. “You’re so good to me, holy fuck, this is what I've been missing out on for years. Are you kidding me, fuck.” Dean groans, neck burying into your shoulder. 

“I just, fuck, haven’t been touched in awhile. Easily excitable,” You joke, legs moving to wrap around his torso. With the amount of effort it takes to whine that sentence out, he knows you’re lying. He huffs slightly in annoyance, a small smirk on his face at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation the two of you are in. 

“You’re so full of shit,” It’s gruff and harsh, his brows scrunching together with the effort he’s exerting. His abs have never been clenched harder in his life, torso rock solid from the over-stimulation and effort. “Even if you could quiet down and stop whining, you’d still give yourself away.” He teases you, and you know he’s right. “Wanna try it, hm pretty girl? Shhhh,” It’s gentle and soothing rather than rough, despite his situation. He gently shushes and coos to you, eventually getting your whining and moaning to mere pants. Like he said, you still give yourself away with the slick noises each time his hips roll into yours. “Do you fuckin hear yourself? Listen pretty girl, just listen.” 

You’re beyond fucked out, listening as Dean explains to you. Your lips are caught tightly in between your teeth, fighting hard to keep as quiet as you possibly can. Your head is thrown back against the bed, straining as your legs lock around his torso harder than before. “Dean,”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. I know, I know. You give yourself away, hm?” He mocks, hands coming to run along your thighs, squeezing the muscle underneath. “One more for me, just give me one more and I’ll clean you up all nice and gentle.” 

“I can’t-”

“Don’t be like that.” It’s soft, but just enough to be patronizing. 

“Please, let’s cum. Last one.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly around him. It’s hard to push in, so overworked and sensitive. Dean’s voice alone works you up more than you ever realized, and having him so close, talking in your ear like this. It’s bad news. Dean’s hips are stuttering as you wrap your legs tighter around his torso, working himself up now. The noises you’re making would be embarrassing if it wasn’t Dean, who’s so beyond into it. Maybe it’s the both of your instincts being heightened from years of fighting fuck knows what, but the front door opening has the both of you immediately stilling. 

Dean has never seen your eyes widen this much, almost comical as you look at him. There’s a wicked smile on his face as he shuffles his arms around, ever so gently placing his hand over your mouth. “Quiet, pretty girl.” Dean’s whispering in your ear, hips slowing just enough to grind into you, clit grinding against his skin. You’re fighting hard to keep quiet, opting to bite down on Dean’s hand instead. He’s hissing softly, repositioning so you bite into the side of his hand. 

“C’mon, give me some slack. Cum for me, please. I need to cum pretty girl, you’re gonna make me cum for you.” Dean swears your eyes are going to roll back and out of your skull and he’s going to be permanently like this with how you’re wrapped around him. Dean’s about to beg, he can feel the words on his tongue. Plead with you, even. His silent prayers are granted when your head throws itself back, your arms moving to wrap around his biceps. With the force you’re holding him, he thinks you’ll leave bruises. He’s following you soon after, hips faltering as he comes undone inside of you. Your legs lock around him and suddenly you’re a bodybuilder with the amount of strength you have. 

Your legs are securely locked, not allowing him to rock anymore, needing no more stimulation. Like you thought, you would be embarrassed with how wet you are if it wasn’t Dean who was the one making you sound like this. “The others are back, I have to go.” You whisper, immediately faltering when your weight settles on your legs. Your bottoms are put on with the help of Dean, who keeps you upright. Too fucked out, your legs are almost unusable as you wobble your way towards the door with bikini top in hand. You have to get going before everyone comes into the back of the house, that you know. 

“You can’t even walk straight.” Dean’s right behind you, trying to keep you up on your feet. He’s trying very hard not to laugh at your condition, but you can hear it in his voice. 

“We can’t scar Sam like this.” You’re trying hard not to giggle, slowly peeling open the door. Dean catches you before you can sprint away from him, yanking you back into his embrace. He's grinning down at you, lips softly pressing against yours. You're distracted, beginning to get lost in the kiss. Reminding you, Dean begins to peel the door open slightly. Once it’s open enough, you’re making a sprint for your room. You hear footsteps soon after you make it to your room, ear pressed against the door to listen. 

“Dean, do I wanna know why I just saw Y/N sprint across the hall in your tee shirt?” 

“No, no you do not.” 

The next case you work, Sam doesn’t mention a single thing. In fact, Sam doesn’t mention anything, ever, even the next morning when you’re awkwardly making coffee in the kitchen while he sits at the kitchen counter. Perhaps you should have asked how he felt about this before you went and created your master plan of you and Baby the other day. You’re sucking in your bottom lip as you’re thinking about how you’re going to bring this up, Dean out for the next half hour or so as he grabs food. 

“Sammy?” You mumble softly, placing a mug of black coffee on the table for him. He won’t drink it with cream or sugar anymore, neither does Dean. 

“Hm?” He asks absentmindedly, thumbing through the newspaper as he reads. He’s not listening to you, you know that. When he reads, he’s entirely immersed in the information he’s processing. He fumbled around for the coffee mug, and you slid it closer to where he’s smacking the table so he can actually find the handle. 

“It doesn’t bother you, right?” You ask softly, waiting for him to process what you asked after he finishes whatever sentence he’s currently on. You don’t have to specify, you already know he knows what you’re referring to. Finally, he breaks his focus from the paper to look at you since you’ve walked into the kitchen and started making coffee. (You don’t know it, but he looked at you to make sure you grabbed his mug as well.) 

He laughs, and for a second you’re disheartened. “Are you serious?” 

“I-what?” You don't know whether to be confused or offended. You were going to genuinely hear him out, but this is not the tone you were expecting. 

“You and Dean have been at each other’s throats since you met. I’m surprised you guys didn’t jump on each other sooner.” He laughs, sipping his coffee and shaking his head softly. He laughs at you more, “You think I would care about that? Oh my god, I’ve never seen Dean run out of the house faster this morning to get you food, wide eyed and bushy tail. I think he thought he was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed.” 

“Fuck, should I go lay back down?” You genuinely wonder, making Sam laugh even harder. 

“You guys are ridiculous. You’re telling me this is the first time? I honestly thought you guys have been hate fucking since we met.” 

“Sammy, pleaseeeee.” You whine, tossing your head back. Sipping your coffee, you want to whine and pout. 

“No offense, but I don't care what the two of you guys get up to. As long as you’re happy and don’t die on a hunt because you’re distracted, it’s not a problem.” 

“Right, right. It won't interfere with hunting, I promise.” You nod your head to him, “But seriously, should I go get back into bed?” 

Sam laughs, shaking his head as he refocuses on the newspaper he’s reading. You don’t, because Dean’s walking into the door soon after your conversation with Dean. Making eye contact, his face falls completely and Sam was definitely correct with his guess of breakfast in bed. Regardless, Dean pretends he just got food and had no other motive. “Breakfast has arrived,” He announces, placing the bags on the table. “What, no coffee for me?!” 

“Oh come on, give me a break. You were nowhere in sight this morning.” You defend yourself, “Not even a BRB note, how was I supposed to know when you were coming back?” 

“Oh, but you’ll make Sammy one-”

“Sammy was sitting in here in the kitchen when I woke up-”

“In the mug you know I like-”

“What?! That’s his mug!”

“It totally isn’t! Just because he uses it more often than I do-”

“OKAY!” Sam interrupts, and he’s smiling like an idiot when you turn to look at him. Nothing has changed between you or Dean, and this just proves that. Sure, you’re eyeing him up like a starved woman, and Dean is trying hard to ignore you in your little pajamas, but nothing has changed between the two of you. “You guys gonna eat or fuck against the kitchen counter?” 

Both you and Dean groan in annoyance, sitting down at the table and rummaging through the bags. After breakfast, you guys go over the main points of the new case you’re working on. The drive makes you want to bash your face into Baby’s window over and over, and you can already feel the tiredness in your bones. You guys start the drive not long after, packing up everything and getting a jump start to the job. 7 hours in and Sam switches with Dean to drive, now in the passenger seat. 

You kick the seat when he leans it back and pins your legs to the backseat, “Don’t make me come back there!” He threatens, to which you stick your tongue out at him. Another seven hours in and you’re switching with Sam, who sleeps in the backseat. 

You and Dean talk in the front. “So, Sammy doesn’t care then?” Dean whispers, and you shake your head no. You’re whispering in an attempt to not disturb Sam, even though you think Sam could sleep through an earthquake. Giving him some type of courtesy, you try to keep the noise down to a minimum. 

“Sammy said he thought we had been, quote, hate fucking since we first met, end quote.” You giggle, glancing over at him with a sheepish smile. Dean is trying awfully hard not to howl laugh right now, and god is it hard. You giggle softly, shaking your head at him. 

“Well, in that case.” Dean shrugs, reaching over the front bench and grabbing the inside of your thigh as you drive. 

“Winchester.” You warn, genuinely warn, as your voice remains low and calm. 

“What? You said he doesn’t care.” Dean mumbles, chuckling softly. Glancing back into the back seat, Sam is passed out. He wouldn’t do that in front of Sammy, but he can push your buttons. Dean slides his hand closer to your hip, slipping down onto your inner thigh further. You give him no reaction, knowing the second you do it’ll only fuel the fire. Dean bites at his lips, trying extremely hard not to laugh at your resolute attitude. His fingers dip underneath the waistband of your shorts, making your hips jolt back into the bench. 

You’re grabbing his hand, ripping it backwards and twisting his arm. “Fuck, I love it when you’re rough with me.” Dean groans softly, a smile still playing on his features. “Okay, okay sweetheart, I hear you loud and clear.” He smiles, pulling his arm free and kissing your knuckles. 

You finally get to the motel after what feels like 2000 years, you driving the last leg of the trip. Sam shuffles into the motel without saying a word to either of you and Dean, still half asleep as he pushes into the room. He’s  falling into the bed and back asleep in no time, and you and Dean share a look. Dean has a soft chuckle, and you giggle when he slides his hand across your thigh, pulling you by your hips across the bench of Baby. 

“No, no, no pretty boy. You made me drive the shitty shift.” You mumble, shuffling so you’re pressed against him. He’s easily manipulated, allowing his body to fall back against the passenger side door. Your legs easily swing over his hips, settling down on his lap with ease. You hate driving at night, and he knows that. “And you’ve been teasing me for the past 20 miles. I’m gonna do what I want, and if you ask nice enough by the end of this, i’ll let you cum, hm?” 

Dean whimpers from underneath you, eyebrows knitting together as you speak to him however you like. When you slam your lips down onto his, he groans into it. You’re frustrated, and annoyed, and slightly angry but not exactly at him. You need an outlet, and Dean is a willing one. Your hips press heavily down into his, using your legs underneath him as leverage to seat yourself against him. Your hands are everywhere and anywhere, running all along his skin underneath his clothes. There’s a whimper that escapes him when you rip off your shirt, not allowing him the pleasure of doing so. 

“This isn’t fair-” You grip his face in between your hands, holding his chin. With the slight pressure, his lips pucker out slightly. You gently peck his lips like this, releasing some of the grip you have on his face. Dean’s hands land on your waist, gently brushing and rubbing along any exposed skin you’ll allow him. 

“Be good, Dean.” You mumble, “You’ll be good for me, hm?” You ask softly, picking your hips up enough to yank your shorts and underwear off in one swift movement. “Let me ride your fingers, baby, get me ready to take you.” You command, voice leaving zero room for disagreement. 

“Yes, yes,” He mumbles absentmindedly, hands shuffling to slip further down your hips. You hiss softly as he makes contact with your clit, well practiced and well trained at this point. He gently rubs along your clit, drawing soft, tight circles into the bud. There’s a small gasp as he slides a digit in, expertly curling and moving in the way he knows you like. You pant softly when your hips grind against him on their own, searching for any touch or stimulation he’ll allow you to have. You chase it like you need it to live, to breathe. And Dean chases the little whimpers and whines as if he’ll die without them. Another digit makes you slump down against him slightly, seeking his warmth and closeness, hips still moving against him. 

“My pretty boy Dean.” You whimper, mumbling partially against his lips as you talk. One of your hands rest behind his head, the other one running your fingers through his hair. Dean reels at the soft compliment, head pushing into your hand as he seeks for your touch. You’re using him like a goddamn toy, and he can’t help but twitch at the thought. He’d let you do anything, anything you ask if it’s from your pretty little mouth. You kiss him hungrily, breaking contact more often than he wants as you moan and pant against him. He seeks your kiss, neck craning up. 

Your hands sloppily fumble with his jean buttons, wanting them off right this second, losing your patience. You push them just below his hips, freeing his cock from his boxers. “Easy, pretty girl, you gotta let me make you cum first.” Dean mumbles, leaning forward to kiss your neck that is burning up. 

“Need you,”

“Need you to feel good, baby.” Dean mumbles, working more feverishly into you to push you past the edge. There’s a boost in his pride when you fall apart against him, arms locking around his head gently as you cum. 

“Dean, wanna fuck you. You gonna let me do that?” You mumble, carefully taking him in your hand. Dean hisses when he slips in between your folds, head thrown against baby for some sort of stability as he tries to compose himself. Cumming when she wants me too, he reminds himself. Your hands are gentle but firm, and dean’s more than aware you’re not giving up your current position on top of him. 

“Gonna let you do anything,” dean mumbles, picking his head up slightly as he watches you line his cock up. He fights to keep his head up, watching as you devour inch by inch of his length. You’re grinning wide when you catch him. 

“Gonna watch me take you? Gonna watch me fuck you, hm?” you pant softly against his lips, snapping your hips down against his. You grind and rub against his his pelvic bone, fully seated against him, tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix. Dean’s head falls back against the door, unable to watch. He can’t watch this without cumming earlier than your word. He groans when you hear the tsk sound as you kiss your teeth, whimpering when you pick his head up. 

“I’m trying to listen to you, don’t wanna cum early sweetheart.” Dean mumbles, biting hard onto his bottom lip. His eyes are half-lidded as he watches you take him, a shiver running up his spine as he tries not to think about anything for too long. You’re so tight, and wet, and just absolutely pulsing around him. He’s sure there’s a pile underneath him from how wet you are around him, his abs clenched harder than he thought possible as he fights off his orgasm. “God damn it, baby. You’re gonna fucking kill me.” he groans, reaching down and rubbing tight circles into your clit. The sharp gasp sends goosebumps up his arms, listening to your soft noises. 

“This is cheating Dean,” You moan, continuing to fuck yourself down onto him. 

“C'mon baby, lemme have it pretty girl,” Dean whimpers, doing his best to snap his hips up against you. Your weight jolts against him, allowing him more room to snap his hips up. He grins, as he finally has some advantage as he fucks into you. When you come undone, it’s shaky and messy, hips slamming down against Dean's to get the movement to stop. His hips continue to rut into you, milking the orgasm for as long as you’ll let him. 

“Being so good Dean,” You coo into his ear, your face burying itself into his neck. Dean's quite literally fraying at the edges trying to hold himself together. He could cry, eyes watering as he screws his eyes shut. 

“C'mon baby, cut me some slack,” He groans, sitting up abruptly to lean into your body. You squeal slightly at how quickly he jostles you around, your legs wrapping around his torso as he moves. 

“I like seeing you so pent up, ‘s cute,” You mumble, holding his head in your palms as you kiss him. Reaching around, you softly pull at his hair, scratching his head where you’re pulling. Your hips grind against him, doing more for you than him. Dean's hands grip your waist and thighs, moving you against him. 

“Wanna be good for you,” Dean groans, leaning forward to bite into your shoulder. 

You smile, holding him gently by his neck as you lean back, taking him with you. He’s groaning into your skin, head falling into your shoulder. “C'mon, want you to feel good,” You mumble, catching his lips gently when his head picks up to glance at you. 

“I do feel good. Feel good if you’re feeling good,” Dean grunts, hissing softly when you push his hips before pulling him back in with your heels. He almost wants to let you make him cum like this, but the shake in your thighs assured him you wouldn’t be able to. “My girl,” Dean moans softly, snapping his hips into you. Your soft mewls spur him on, groaning softly when your hands pull at his hair. Dean's losing it, moaning into the crook of your neck as he buries his face into your skin. 

His weight is pressed entirely against you, elbows digging into the seat on either side of you. You're whimpering in his ear, and he’s been holding off for what feels like years at this point. You pick his head up, pressing your lips to his. The both of you are moaning and panting so hard it’s difficult to kiss, riling yourselves up. “Feels good, Dean, do I make you feel good?” You pant against his lips, legs squeezing tighter around his waist. Your hands are all over him, touching any inch of skin you can, feeling every muscle flexing with the effort of his ministrations. “Talk to me Winchester, my pretty boy.” You moan, one particular thrust sending goosebumps across your skin. 

“I- fuck- can't.” Dean almost grunts, lips never leaving yours as he talks. “ ‘s too good, this pussy, fuck, made for me.” He groans, lips leaving yours to kiss along your cheek and jaw. Your hands settle on his biceps, trying hard to ground yourself here with him. “Never wanna leave it, never wanna leave you.” He groans, pulling you closer by the back of your neck to properly kiss you. “Fuck, please let me cum.”

You hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for you, a giant smile creeping over your face at how good he is. “Cum, Dean. Cum inside me, please, need it.” You mumble, grip tightening to hold yourself against him as he roughly fucks into you, chasing the high he’s been craving. You squeal and jerk under him as he bites into your shoulder, roughly laving over it with his tongue to relieve the pain. You squeeze tighter around him from it, making his hips falter in their place. You’re over-sensitive, beginning to squirm. “Cum, Dean, please, can’t take it.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly more. 

“Fuck, taking it so good. Just a bit more, be patient for me sweetheart.” Dean groans against your ear, thrusts becoming more erratic as he finally lets himself go. Your legs are practically numb as he buries himself to the hilt, cumming inside you. You complain softly as he lazily fucks his cum into you, enjoying the absolute mess you’re making underneath him. 

“Please-” You hiccup, pulling his hair softly. Dean slows, stilling as he kisses you properly for the first time in forever, no longer panting and moaning against you. You relish in it, not rushing as you kiss him back. 

“I think I’ll make you drive the shit shift more often.” He’s smiling, carefully getting you cleaned up. He’s proud of how fucked out you are, pride oozing from his demenor. You have the same pride, knowing the second he touches that motel bed he’ll be out for the night. 

You peck him quickly, not wanting to rile him up again. “Sure, but next time you wont cum.” You giggle, taking off before he has the wit to catch you and pin you to baby again. Running into the motel room where Sam is knocked out, you're in the shower before Dean can catch up to you. You hear a snarky remark from the other side of the door, making you giggle.

[windchesterluver]

Two is better than one

Summary: Sam and Dean discover they’ve both fallen for their childhood best friend—and when you care, you share.

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: inspired by @dulcescorderitas

(This took 3 hours)

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, threesome, no wincest cuz gross, slight praise kink,

Things had changed between the three of you—you could feel it. It had been a year since you last hunted together, and, God, how you missed them. The three amigos, the three musketeers—you were inseparable, stuck together like glue. But then life happened, and you had to pull away. A week ago, you ran into them again while working a case, and afterward, none of you had the guts to say goodbye again. Somehow, everything fell back into place, as if you’d never been apart.

You tried to pretend you couldn’t feel the tension between the three of you. Tried to convince yourself Dean’s lingering gaze was just his way and that Sam’s hugs had always lasted a little too long. You lied to yourself, that you didn’t enjoy the warmth of Sam’s body pressed against yours or that your cheeks didn’t burn when Dean’s eyes trailed your body. But all the pretending and lying crumbled the moment you overheard them arguing.

It was late when you set out to grab some food, but as you approached the motel door, the sound of the brothers yelling stopped you in your tracks. Their words were muffled, but your name rang clear as day. After a few seconds of listening in and your heart pounding you finally mustered the courage to push the door open. The room fell silent the moment you stepped inside, and the tension lingered throughout dinner until it was broken by the sound of your voice.

“I have a case in my hometown, i leave tomorrow” you stated quietly. Your eyes fixed on your plate, feeling the brothers gaze over you. “we’ll come with you” Sam replied calmly. You swallowed hard “It's personal”. Both brothers furrowed their brows, exchanging a confused glance. “Is someone threatening you?” Dean’s tone was sharp, almost accusing. “What? No!” You snapped back startled. “Then what is it?” Sams's tone was gentle and his turned-up brows paired with his puppy eyes made it hard to lie. The more your gaze shifted between the two of them the more you felt yourself cracking. You had barely survived the year without them—how could you possibly survive a lifetime?

“Y/N,” Dean’s sharp voice snapped you back to reality. You bit down on your lip, pushing yourself away from the table. The boys immediately followed your lead, all of you now standing in tense silence. “I can't be the reason you two fall apart” you explained. Their expressions shifted to shock“What?” Dean scoffed. You inhaled sharply, steadying yourself “i heard you t fighting…it was about me wasn’t it?” You watched the boys turn to each other. Dean raised a brow and Sam nodded his head, like they were communicating telepathically.

“I think you’d better sit down for this,” Sam said softly moving toward you. Taking your wrist gently, he guided you to the edge of the motel bed. The mattress let out a faint squeak as Dean sat beside you, his thigh pressed firmly against yours. Sam studied your confused haze, his gaze steady and calm, before clasping his hand over yours. “We weren’t fighting,” he began. “We were talking about how we want you…” He hesitated, his words hanging in the air at the feeling of your hand tightening around his, your eyes fixed with anticipation. “And we’re hoping you wanted us”

Your gaze broke from Sam's when you felt Dean's cold hand rest on your lower back. Your eyes met his, his calm and reassuring expression grounding you. "Only if you want to," he said firmly, slowly inching closer before connecting his lips to yours. When your lips moved against him, he deepened the kiss, his restraint melting away. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, turning you fully toward him, and positioning himself between your legs. Sam softly pulled you to lean against his chest, his hand making their way to unbutton your shirt “Are you ok with this?” he whispered. Dean pulled away to let you respond, you nodded your head “Please” you begged breathlessly.

Dean wasted no time stripping himself of his clothes, before helping you out of your pants while Sam threw your shirt to the ground. “Ready?” Dean asked pumping himself, your eyes already showing how desperate you were with Sam sucking at your neck. You scratched at Sam's clothed thighs feeling Dean push into you. Dean leaned into the other side of your neck, continuing to thrust inside you. Your hot breath and moans against his ear made him let out a deep groan as he quickened his pace.

You were so intoxicated by Dean's movements, that you missed the feeling of Sam's hands sliding between you and Dean's chest, cupping your breast before giving a gentle squeeze releasing a small moan from your wet lips. “You sound so beautiful” he muttered. Dean could feel you arch against him and with a few more deep thrusts, watched you release around him before following. Your Head lay back on the younger brother’s shoulder, weakly looking up at him “Sam” you panted. He quickly passed you off to Dean who distracted you with light kisses around your jaw and collarbone. Your head tilted to the side and eyes locked on Sam undressing himself. you could feel yourself pooling again. Sam pulled you from Dean's arms as he climbed back on the bed, allowing you to hook your arms around his broad shoulders. “I'll be gentle” he spoke against your lips. You shuddered at the feeling of being reentered, your hands reaching up to fist his hair.

Sam’s thrusts were deep and slow compared to Dean's quick and harsh ones, slowly building you up. You didn't think the feeling could get better until a familiar hand made its way between your legs and gentle fingers circled your clit, making you gasp. You turned to see Dean over your shoulder “Hi sweetheart” he smirked pressing his lips to yours. It only lasted a moment when Sam's hand grabbed your face turning you to him “My turn” he groaned before smacking his lips against yours. You could feel yourself reaching your high again, uncontrollably rolling your hips into him. His grip on your hips tightened while he cam into you, your fluids mixing.

“Good girl” he cooed, bringing you down from your high, and softly laying you on the mattress. Your eyelids flickered to the brothers who were on either side of you. “You did so well, sweetheart” Dean praised, brushing sweaty strands of hair off your forehead. “Get some rest, we’ll take care of you,” Sam spoke gently, watching your eyes flicker close. The feeling of gentle lips grazing your skin as you dozed off.

[deansbeer]

✷ ◟ ECHOES OF DESIRE ৎ᠀

library introduction minors do NOT interact!

SYNOPSIS. you never expected to hear dean's thoughts this clearly—especially not when they're about you in the most unexpected way.

WARNING(S). mentions of masturbation | f!reader | overwhelming thoughts | telepathy | physical sensations triggered by another person's thoughts | heavy unresolved romantic/sexual tension | mutual pining | awkwardness | emotional vulnerability | telepath!reader | older!dean | reader is in her mid twenties | light jealousy (man gets jealous of a bunny. wild, huh? believe me, i know.) | tension-filled misunderstandings | new unexplained ability reader develops.

KARI'S NOTES. ignore the fact that my blog is a mess of things & i've changed the layout for my fics many times :) can this also be considered an early bday gift for dean ??? i have a lil something planned for his special day but idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ this is somewhat cutesy ig lol + tiny disclaimer <3 the photos above r used solely for aesthetic purposes !!!!

it's late in the bunker—the kind of silence that feels heavy, pressing against your ears as you sit alone in the library. sam and dean have both retreated to their rooms for the night, finally giving in to the exhaustion that comes with long hunts and endless research. but you? you're wide awake, as usual, hunched over a pile of lore books with your bunny, bolt, nibbling on hay in a little pile you set out for him. the faint sound of his chewing and the occasional rustle of paper are the only things breaking the stillness.

you pop another blue peanut m&m into your mouth, the faint crunch grounding you as your eyes scan the faded text in front of you. you're so close—so damn close—to deciphering the last piece of this puzzle for their next case. you can feel it right there, just out of reach, the answer dancing at the edge of your mind.

but then, like a radio station suddenly switching frequencies, you hear it.

someone's thoughts.

you pause mid-bite, your jaw tightening as you inwardly groan. who the hell is thinking this loud so late at night?

it's not unusual for you to pick up on stray thoughts; it's part of being a telepath. but this? this is loud. intrusive. like someone shouting directly into your brain. you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to block it out, to focus on the task at hand. you've gotten good at tuning people out over the years, but some thoughts are harder to ignore than others.

you shake your head, turning the page of the lore book in front of you, determined to push through the distraction. but the thoughts don't stop. they keep coming, louder and more insistent, like waves crashing against the shore.

and then you realize something.

these thoughts… they're familiar.

at first, you think it's sam. he has a tendency to overthink even in his sleep, his dreams sometimes bleeding into his waking thoughts. but no, this isn't sam. his mind is quiet, the kind of stillness that comes with deep, dreamless sleep.

it has to be dean.

your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat as the realization settles in.

dean.

you grip the edge of the table, your fingers curling tightly around the wood as his thoughts flood your mind. he's begging. it's desperate, raw, like he's pleading for something he can't have. but it's not just his words—his emotions are pouring through, too, overwhelming you with their intensity.

your chest tightens, your heartbeat quickening to match his. there's a strange knot forming in your lower abdomen, a heat that spreads through your body, and you have to clutch at your stomach to steady yourself. biting down on your bottom lip, you try to hold back the whimper threatening to escape.

he's calling your name. not out loud, but in his mind. over and over, like a prayer.

and then it happens—something that's never happened to you before.

you see through his eyes.

for a moment, you're no longer in the library. you're somewhere else entirely, looking through dean's gaze as he lies in bed. your breath hitches as you take in the scene before you: his hand, moving with a rough, almost frantic rhythm over himself, and in the other hand?

a polaroid.

your polaroid.

it's a picture he took of you during one of your outings, the sunlight making your skin glow as you posed for a photo. you remember the moment vividly—how he insisted on taking the photo despite your protests, how he teased you about how good you looked in your little dress.

and now he's using it.

you let out a tiny gasp, the sound startling bolt, who looks up at you with wide, curious eyes. you're back in the library now, your cheeks burning as you try to process what you just saw.

dean. was. masturbating. to. your. photo.

you shake your head, trying to banish the image from your mind, but it's too late. it's seared into your memory, the raw need in his thoughts still lingering like an echo.

you don't get much sleep after that.

the next morning, you're in the kitchen, trying to shake off the haze from the night before. bolt sits at your feet, munching on his breakfast as you make yourself a cup of coffee. you're dressed in one of your favorite nightgowns, a tiny blue satin thing with lace trimming, paired with a matching silk robe. it's comfortable, soft against your skin, and you don't think much about it as you move around the kitchen.

you're lost in thought, replaying everything from the night before, when you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. you turn, startled, and there he is.

dean.

he's rubbing his tired eyes, his hair sticking up in every direction, and his t-shirt clings to his chest in a way that makes it hard not to stare. he doesn't say anything at first, just grunts in acknowledgment as he heads for the coffee pot, but you can feel the tension radiating off him.

"morning," you say, your voice light, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

"mornin'," he mutters, his voice rough with sleep.

you take a seat at the table, bolt hopping onto your lap as you sip your coffee. dean follows a moment later, his eyes flicking to the bunny and then to you.

"does he have to sit on your lap?" he grumbles, though the jealousy in his thoughts is loud and clear.

you can't help but smirk. "why are you so jealous of a bunny?”

his eyes narrow, and he shoots you a pointed look. "stay out of my head, sweetheart."

but you're not about to let him off that easily. setting your coffee down, you lean forward slightly, your gaze locking onto his.

"how come you were begging for me last night?"

he freezes, his jaw tightening as his eyes widen. for a moment, he looks like a deer caught in headlights, and you almost feel bad for him. almost.

"i don't know what you're talkin' about," he says quickly, his voice stiff as he avoids your gaze.

you frown, not buying his act for a second. "dean."

he tries to deflect, asking you something about the research you were doing last night, but you're not letting this go.

"don't lie to me," you say softly, your voice firm. "i know what i heard. i know what i felt."

his cheeks flush, a rare sight that only makes you more determined. but DEAN WINCHESTER is nothing if not stubborn, and he's not about to admit what you already know.

two idiots in love, too afraid to take the leap.

and yet, the truth lingers in the air between you, unspoken but undeniable.

SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @deanswidow @lacydollette @fallbhind @beausling @figthoughts @frosttbitessam @bluestrd @florchids @ultravi0lence14 @starzify @honeyryewhiskey @bluemerakis @deansbite @lustagel @rafespreciosa @jasvtsc @voidsuites @t3l3vangelism . . . ☆

[whisperingdaze]

you gasped as dean kissed each of your breasts, leaving a trail of hickeys over them— a reminder of how much he loved you.

he took the time to put his pink and plump lips around your tits and swirl his warm tongue around your hardened nipple which made a moan escape your lips. travelling further down your body to pepper a trail of kisses along your abdomen.

dean knelt between your legs, smiling at the site of you. your chest heaving, covered in pink love bites and your face dawned with a pink tinge from his previous actions.

he starts shuffling between your thighs so he’s eye level with your pussy, causing the bed to creak as his weight is distributed over the bed.

settling between your spread legs, you feel the gentle feeling of his lips working his away along your soft thighs; pecking and nipping at your skin.

the sensation alone makes you light headed.

his eyes flickering between your lust filled eyes and your slick core. your breaths becoming faster as he gets closer to where you so badly want him to touch.

a high pitched mewl was forcefully pulled from your lungs when dean finally dives in, taking you by surprise at the suddenness. he’s lapping up your juices like man starved. you would think he never eats your pussy in this moment, when in reality it happens often more times than it doesn’t.

dean’s hands roughly holding your thighs open, making sure you can’t close your legs to stop him from what he’s been craving all day. tiny whimpers leave your mouth as his tongue works wonders between your folds. never leaving any part of your cunt untouched.

dean changes between sucking harshly on your swollen clit and thrusting his tongue into your soaked hole. pleasure ran through your whole body.

you could spend the rest of eternity with him between your thighs.

your hands makes its way towards his hair, tugging hard as the knot in your stomach tightens. the vibration of dean letting out a low, guttural growl against your pussy sends a jolt throughout your body. your gummy walls clenching around nothing edges him on further, desperate for you to let go on his tongue.

strangled cries of dean’s name and breathless gasps left your parted lips, rolling your hips into his face, so close to coming apart on his mouth.

he buries his face further into your cunt, his tongue sliding in and out as his nose bumps into your clit. your face crumples up in bliss as your orgasm topples over the edge, your dripping cunt contracts around him. dean’s tongue rapidly slurps up your juices. relishing in the taste of you, he can never get enough of you.

you were his sweet baby. his needy girl.

pathetic whines obscenely escape from your lips are filling the room, your whines and the sound of dean eating you out were all that could be heard.

your fingernails grip into the bed sheets below you.

your head thrown back into the pillow that your head was resting on.

as you arch your back and ride your high against his face. letting it pass over you. the intense feeling of ecstasy crashes over your body.

you let out a pleasant hum as you feel a warm sensation flow throughout your body. feeling your eyes grow heavy, you look down at the man between your legs. the love of your life.

its a sight you would never get tired of, permanently engraved in your brain.

dean lifts his head up and looks at you with a loving gaze, letting out a chuckle. a smirk appears on his face when he sees that your slowly closing your eyes.

his cheeks and chin covered in your arousal, though he couldn’t care. he loved you.

dean was a messy eater after all. and you went crazy for it.

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Ugh this one truly turns me to goo

sweet

summary you got a new perfume and your boyfriend can't get enough of it (and you).

word count 422

a/n first post in a looooong time... so sorry for ghosting like that lol. this popped into my head so I did a Lil blurb for him because I've been obsessed since July. bare with me. hoping this will bring me back into writing again..!

You feel him before you see him.

His arms wrap around your waist, palms sliding over your hip bones to rest just under your navel. Next is his chin on your shoulder, hair tickling the side of your face.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he murmurs into your jaw, pressing a light kiss there after. You smile softly, dropping your hands from the lore book you'd been looking at for more research on the new case. “Dean,” you say as an acknowledgment of his presence.

“Watcha doin’?” He asks, nosing along your jaw, fingers mindlessly stroking along your skin, pushing their way under your soft cotton shirt to feel bare skin. “Researching for the new case,” you reply, glancing down at him and only seeing his hair, his head tilted down too much.

“Uh huh.”

He doesn't bother to sound interested, instead focusing on nosing at your skin and touching you where he could. “You smell different,” he states, sounding distracted. His fingers still and you feel the cold tip of his nose push into the skin under your ear more firmly. “This a sweet scent, baby.”

His voice is quiet and the words almost slurred together in concentration as he tries working out what you'd changed.

“It's a new perfume.” you simply explain. It makes him hum but he doesn't relent, nose pressed into your neck with seemingly no qualms of pulling back.

“Turn ‘round for me, sweetheart.”

It's a gentle command and you do so easily, leaning back into the bookcase and tilting your head at him. “What is it?”

His eyes are hooded and his pupils bigger than normal, hands sliding back to your hips. “Why d'you smell so good?”

He almost sounds offended and it makes you chuckle, your hand lifting to rest on his shoulder and moving to the back of his neck as he moves closer again. “It's just a new perfume I bought a few days ago. What's got your panties in a twist?”

You tilt your head up to get a look at his expression but he's almost glaring at your neck, only huffing in acknowledgement before tapping the underside or your chin and pushing his nose back to your throat, arms looping around your waist.

“I take it I chose a good perfume?”

He makes a noise deep in his throat that borders on sounding needy and leaves a chaste kiss on your pulse point. “Damn right you did. ‘s awesome.”

[dulcescorderitas]

02

parings: married!deanwinchester x married!reader

synopsis: life married to dean

warnings: no smut

the nights always ended the same way, no matter how long he’d been gone. his hands, calloused from gripping the wheel of the Impala, always found their way to the curve of your waist, pulling you close, grounding himself in your warmth. it was like he was making sure you were still there, flesh and blood and not some fleeting dream he could lose again.

when dean came home, it was like the house breathed with him. the soft creak of the door, his boots thudding heavily on the wooden floors, the rustling as he shrugged off his jacket. it was all the noise of a man who fought his way back to you, every damn time. sometimes it was days, sometimes weeks, but every return felt like the first, like he’d fought a hundred battles just to hold you again.

“you up?” his voice broke the stillness, low and familiar, a sound you’d missed more than you could admit. you stepped out of the kitchen, where you’d been waiting, and met him halfway, your arms wrapping around his neck as his settled on your waist.

“i’m always up when you’re coming home,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. he held you tighter, a sigh of relief escaping him as he buried his face in your neck, just breathing you in.

sam’s footsteps echoed lightly behind him, and you glanced over dean’s shoulder. “sam, you know where everything is. get some rest.”

“thanks,” sam replied, offering you a small smile before disappearing into the guest bedroom.

the door clicked shut, leaving you and dean alone in the quiet house. his hands slid down to your hips, his thumbs brushing over the fabric of your shirt. “missed you,” he whispered.

“missed you too.” your fingers traced the edge of his jaw, noting the rough stubble that had grown since you last saw him. “come on, you look beat.”

he didn’t argue, letting you lead him to the bedroom. the familiar sights of your shared space surrounded you—the nightstand with his gun and knife, the salt lines carefully laid at every entry point. it was a fortress, one you both had built together, knowing the dangers that lurked just outside those walls.

he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you to stand between his knees. his eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but there was something else there too—a quiet gratitude, a sense of peace. “the road was rough,” he admitted softly. “but this… being here with you… makes it worth it.”

you cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs along his cheekbones. “you’re home now. that’s all that matters.”

he nodded, pulling you down into his lap, holding you close. the weight of him, the steady beat of his heart under your palm, it all felt like home. three times a week, if you were lucky, he’d be here, his presence filling the space, his warmth seeping into you. and in those moments, the worry and the fear melted away, leaving just the two of you.

sometimes, you wished he would stay longer. that the job wouldn’t pull him away so often. that there’d be more mornings where you could wake up to the sight of him, hair tousled, eyes half-lidded with sleep, his lips curved into a lazy smile that was just for you. mornings where his hands would roam, slow and deliberate, exploring every inch of you as if he had all the time in the world. mornings where he’d whisper your name like a prayer, his lips tracing the line of your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin.

“we’ll have more mornings,” he said softly, as if reading your mind. his lips brushed against your temple, his voice a comforting rumble. “i promise.”

it wasn’t just about the sex, though God, when dean touched you, it was like the world stopped spinning. his fingers, rough and sure, knew exactly how to unravel you, to make you shudder and cling to him in the dark. but it was the way he looked at you after, like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world, that made your chest ache with something fierce and unrelenting.

you were his home. his sanctuary. and even though you wished he could be there more, you never doubted for a second that he was yours, fully and completely. every kiss, every touch, every whispered word in the dead of night was a promise—a promise that no matter how far he wandered, he’d always find his way back to you.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[underthewaterlily]

The Photo Booth✰⋆

Summary: Dean confesses to you in a photo booth with the hope that you will reject him so he can move on... things don't go exactly as planned.

Warnings: mild cursing

A/N: I've never written for Dean before so please have mercy on me if this sucks

.........................................................................................................................

He can not believe he let you drag him into this stupid booth. It's not big enough for the two of you, so you're sitting cheek to cheek, and you're practically on his lap. Dean knows he's probably acting like an idiot because of the proximity. He keeps thinking about how easy it would be to just grab you by the chin and kiss you right here. But instead, he just smiles into the camera with you.

3...2...1...flash!

"Okay, now a silly one!" you say, returning his attention to the booth's camera. Dean uses his fingers to pull back his lips and expose his teeth while he crosses his eyes. You start laughing at him; god, he loves your laugh; he would make a million more stupid faces to get to hear it. He shivers to think how Sam would tease him for his usually stubborn attitude turning complacent just because it's you he's talking to.

3...2...1...flash!

It's not just the proximity that makes him think of you; even during long weeks apart, you are all he can think about. He tells himself he prefers it when you're apart because at least his chest doesn't ache with the weight of how much he cares for you. You put a hand behind his head and give him bunny ears.

3...2...1...flash!

Dean can't take this anymore. He's got to do something to help soothe the burning he feels.

3...

"I love you."

2...

You turn to him in shock, your eyes wide as you observe him. This is what Dean needs, rejection. He needs you to shoo him away and tell him to get lost so he can get over this stupid infatuation he has with you and get on with his life.

1...

"I love you too."

You gaze at each other for what feels like an eternity before closing the gap between you with a searing kiss. Dean feels incredibly grateful for the invention of the photo booth.

Flash!

[lixiesbrowniess]

YOU'RE SO TORTURED WHEN YOU SLEEP

Warnings: MDNI, NSFW, sexual content, blowjob, Dean's stressed, mentions of somnophilia, consensual cause you two spoke about this,

Inspired by Disease by Lady Gaga

Dean was having a hard time sleeping, nightmares, waking up gasping and covered in cold sweat. You two came up with an idea and agreed on it, you really wanted to help your him to be honest.

So here you are, laying on his side worried as he started to groan breathing heavily. He was having a nightmare. You tried to wake him without success so you decided to take action.

You slowly slid under the sheets, your hand stopping onto his abdomen, feeling his burning skin. He was sleeping with just his boxers on, his breathing getting slightly becoming more regular the more you touch him.

Finally, your hands slips the tight fabric off of his half hard member. You softly caressed it, earning a soft moan from Dean. Once he was properly hard and leaking with pre-cum, you glided your tongue from the base to the top before eagerly taking it past your lips, softly twirling your tongue around his tip.

His precious groans filled your ears while you started bopping your head slowly, trying to take as deep in your throat as you could. Your fingers drew patterns on his thigh and right onto his side. You whimper against him as you feel your nose touching his abdomen.

You try to breath through your nose while hollow your cheeks sucking his lenght. You smile around him when you hear him moaning our your name while softly squirming, hips bucking up to meet your moves. He was half asleep but slowly waking up.

You kept working on him gripping his thighs softly while pushing yourself to take him deeper down your throat. Your tongue flat against his cock to accommodate him better. You felt him twitch into your mouth, you suck at his tip before taking him back in the warmness of your mouth.

He gasped eyes fluttering open, before he could speak a moan escaped his lips, you felt his hand onto your cheek, acknowledging he was awake. "Babe－" Dean whimpered while softly tugging at your hair, you groan around him sending vibrations through him.

He's close. You can tell from the way he's desperately pulling your head closer to him, you feel him hitting the back of your throat as he helps you with his hand behind your head. You hollow your cheeks once again earning a deep groan from him.

"Oh God－ you feel so good" he groans softy his hips bucking up against your face, you trace the pulsing vein onto his cock and that's the final trigger sending him over the edge. Warm and thick ropes sliding down your throat, as he grunts, slightly holding your head down.

As you pull away a string of saliva mixed with his juices connected your lower lip to his tip, you gasped for air. He pulled you out of under the sheets, his arms around your waist, kissing your forehead. "Thank you, sweetheart" he whispers hugging you close.

He lowly humms wiping your lips, and pulling you in a kiss, getting slightly passionate, once he pulled away he presses his forehead to yours, your eyes meeting his before closing slowly drifting to sleep hugging each other.

"I'll make it up to you in the morning, honey" he murmurs to your ear before falling asleep with you, holding you close to his chest.

[legalmente-loca]

Pervertboyfriend!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

18+ nsfw

A/N: Requested by @b3llar0ckz

❥ Pervertboyfriend!Dean always has one hand on you, and if it's on your ass, even better.

❥ When you're not together, he sends you pictures and videos of his cock, already wet or halfway through masturbation.

❥ And he won't stop until you answer him or send him pictures and videos of yours too.

❥ Pervertboyfriend!Dean likes watching the semen drip out of your pussy a little too much.

❥ “That view is worth it all, sweetness.”

❥ He doesn't feel guilty about not using a condom. In fact, a part of him wants to get you pregnant and have his child inside you.

❥ He wants to see your belly getting bigger and your fat breasts filled with milk.

❥ Pervertboyfriend!Dean would love to suck every drop out of you.

❥ He loves to put his hand under your skirts when you're sitting, his fingers running up and down your panties, spreading your wetness, before he puts in the first finger of five.

❥ He loves your body. Maybe even to the point of obsession. He's always watching it or touching you, and if he can't do either of those, then he's thinking about it.

❥ He takes every opportunity to treat you to tight little skirts and t-shirts. Pervertboyfriend!Dean enjoys seeing you in them and then ripping them off, promising to give you more later.

❥ You can't even spend five seconds in the car with him when he's already thinking about sex.

❥ “How about—?”

❥ “No.”

❥ “I had to ask.”

❥ The only seat you can use is his lap, sometimes even with his cock deep inside you.

❥ “That's it, pretty girl, keep my cock warm.”

❥ He always wants to kiss you. Your lips drive him crazy and he likes to run his hands up and down your thighs while doin' it.

❥ He slides his hands under your shirt and caresses you over your bra if you're wearing one.

❥ Every porn video he's ever seen he'll relate to everything that happens.

❥ One time you got really stuck in the washing machine when Pervertboyfriend!Dean came through the door.

❥ We already know how that video goes.

❥ When you have sex and you're on your stomach, he loves to watch your ass bounce and has even made it red from spanking it so many times.

❥ Pervertboyfriend!Dean definitely loves it when you're on top.

❥ From that vantage point, he watches your breasts bounce against his face. He has an obsession with them.

❥ On one occasion, he couldn't take his face off your breasts and kept biting them.

❥ “You taste so good, baby.”

❥ He holds your legs tightly around him, his thrusts coming in hard and fast, drawing gasps from you.

❥ Finally, never ask him to change. He's obsessed with you (in a good way) and he won't stop showing it.

Dean Winchester Imagines/Headcanons

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[wendichester]

༘˚⋆ 𖦹.✧˚ after school walks,

summary. dean walks you home every single day.

pairing. teenage!dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 536

notes. am i the only obsessed with teenage dean or...?

The afternoon sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the cracked sidewalks. You’re clutching your backpack straps, your steps matching Dean Winchester’s as he walks beside you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn leather jacket.

It’s the same jacket he wears every day, the one that smells faintly of motor oil and cologne, though you’ve never mentioned it. You’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing how much you notice.

“Benson's a pain in the ass,” Dean mutters, kicking a pebble down the street.

“You’re just mad she caught you sleeping in class again,” you tease, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He smirks, his dimples flashing. “What can I say? She has a gift. Boring me to sleep one history class at a time,”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrays you. It’s not fair how effortlessly charming Dean can be. You tell yourself you’re just friends, that you don’t notice the way his smile makes your knees feel a little weak.

“So, what’d she lecture you about this time?” you ask, mostly to fill the silence.

He shrugs. “Something about ‘wasting potential.’”

“You? Wasting potential?” you tease, feigning shock. “I can’t imagine why she’d think that.”

Dean chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Funny.”

The two of you turn down your street, the quiet neighborhood settling into its evening routine. Porch lights flicker on, and the smell of dinner drifts through open windows. Dean walks a little closer, his shoulder brushing yours.

“You know,” he says after a moment, his tone slightly teasing, “It's really tiring having to walk you home everyday.”

You glance at him, immediately noticing his cheeky grin. “You don’t have to, but you do it anyway.”

Dean’s eyes flick to yours, a glimmer of something unreadable in his gaze. “Yeah, well... it’s not like I trust anyone else to make sure you get home safe.”

You swallow hard, your heart beating a little faster. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” he replies, his smirk returning. “But it doesn’t hurt to have backup.”

You reach your house all too soon, the familiar sight of the chipped paint and sagging porch steps pulling you back to reality.

“This is me,” you say, gesturing to the front door.

Dean stops at the bottom of the steps, his hands still buried in his pockets. He glances up at the house, then back at you, as if debating something.

“Well,” he says after a pause, “guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hesitate, gripping the straps of your backpack a little tighter. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

You shift on your feet, suddenly nervous. “Thanks. For walking me home.”

His smirk softens into a genuine smile, one that makes your chest ache in the best way. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

With that, he turns and starts back down the sidewalk, his strides confident and unhurried. You watch him go, your cheeks warm and your heart fluttering in a way that’s becoming all too familiar.

And as you step inside, you can't wait for tomorrow morning, where Dean will be waiting so you can walk to school together.

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[zepskies]

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS || Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Here we go - my last short series for @jacklesversebingo, and my first time writing a 1940s AU! I've had a lot of fun on this one. 🥰

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Series Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, PSTD/trauma, WWII history, mentions of infidelity/cheating, eventual smut, lawyer!Sam, soldier!Dean, hurt/comfort, fluff, heavily inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker.

🎵 Listen While You Read:

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Chapters:

Part 1: Legal Grounds - Coming to Patreon: 1/24 || Coming to Tumblr/Ao3: 1/31

Part 2: Devil May Care

Part 3: A Moment

Part 4: Dried Ink

Series coming soon!

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[winchestergirl2]

As someone who will never be naturally slim, I could really relate to this one.

Dean

You've started breezing past mirrors when you get out of the shower.

Oh yes, I know that feeling I have done this myself before.

I love how Dean noticed that something was bothering her and managed to coax it out of her.

"Mmm, I like you nice and soft," he murmurs against your cheek, close to your ear. "Feels that much better when I fuck you."

Oh, Dean, you smoothie.

Beau

"You know it's been a month since we've had sex," you say.

"Nah, that doesn't sound right," he says.

Oh Beau 🤦🏼‍♀️

You've gone through your own stress at work this year, with less and less time to try and take care of yourself,

This is so relatable. I have been guilty of this recently and have also turned to stress eating too.

You don't want to melt, but you just can't help it. You cling to the front of his shirt and lean into his kiss, like you've been lost in the desert, and his lips hold the breath of life.

I absolutely LOVE this part!

"I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he says. His voice is a low, earthy drawl as his gaze rakes over you. His big hand runs down your side and over your hip, then down your bare thigh, squeezing soft, tender flesh. He slips that hand under the satin night gown.

This bit has me absolutely melting 🫠 😍

Soldier Boy (Ben)

"Is there something you wanna tell me?" he says, a raw edge of warning in his tone. "What, are you fucking somebody else?"

Oh, Ben... trust him to immediately jump to that conclusion.

"Fasting," Ben intones. "What, you wanna fucking starve yourself? What the fuck is Keto?"

I can hear him and that Keto comment, and picture the look on his face while saying it.

"Yeah, you've got a little extra. So fucking what?" he says, his voice deep and exacting as his gaze roams over your body. "Just gives me more to hold onto when I'm fucking you."

I can just imagine him responding like this. He is a man who likes women of all shapes, sizes, and ages.

Loved all of these and thought you captured them all perfectly. I have to admit that Beau's was my favourite ❤️

Headcanon: Body Insecurity/Appreciation

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @roseblue373. 💜 It's a special one to me personally, being plus-sized myself and having gone through my share of insecurities. Wish I had one of these guys to make it better lol!~

Prompt/Request: Great job with the latest Dean/Beau/Ben reacts vignettes! I'd love to see one where reader has put on weight and isn't happy with their body, and how each would make her feel better!! IF the muse agrees, of course! ❤️

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to your body insecurity.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Established relationship, body insecurity (but also body appreciation), thicc thirty, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, spiciness/smuttishness.

Dean Winchester

You've started breezing past mirrors when you get out of the shower.

Because if you catch sight of your own reflection, you can't help but utter a sigh, your lips dipping into a frown.

In the privacy of the room you share with Dean in the bunker, you take a risk in unwrapping the towel from your body in front of the mirror.

You inspect yourself with growing dejection, noting all the places that are rounder, heavier, less firm than they used to be.

Looks like no amount of running down leads and killing monsters has been enough to keep you in shape.

Too much shitty fast food, too many times you indulged yourself with snacks and dessert alongside your foodie boyfriend.

"What'cha doin', sweetheart?" Dean asks. He steps into the room while wiping donut icing from the corner of his mouth.

Speak of the devil.

When Dean finally catches you frowning at yourself in the mirror, you inhale sharply and close the towel back up.

"Nothing. Just need to get dressed," you reply quickly. "Shower's open."

You try to offer him a smile, despite the pang of jealousy when you eye him.

He gave you the first chance at the shower after the latest case wrapped up, so he's still wearing most of his FBI suit, sans jacket. The white dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows, a few days of scruff neatly trimmed across his cheeks.

The man can cram an entire pizza down his gullet and wash it down with three slices of apple pie, not to mention countless beers. And still, Dean stays looking downright edible.

By comparison, you feel...fat. Like you've let yourself go.

You turn away from him to grab your well-worn sweatpants and an oversized shirt; you plan to change alone in the bathroom, but Dean grabs your arm.

"Who says you need to get dressed?" he says, popping his brows with a suggestive grin. He slips his arms around your waist, but your instinct is to shy away from his hold. You chuckle awkwardly and avoid his now curious gaze.

"Sorry, babe. Um...I'm wiped. I just want to get to bed," you say.

But Dean isn't fooled. His spidey sense is tingling, and his gut is almost never wrong.

His hand slides down your arm and grasps your hand, tugging you back into his arms. You utter a little gasp, but you ultimately smile at his familiar grin. There's a perceptive gleam in his eyes though.

"You know, seems like you've been pretty wiped lately," he says, raising a brow. "It's been a while since we, uh..."

He waggles his brows playfully, squeezing your hips. You want to smile, but you can't let yourself. You can't quite look at him either.

For Dean, it's another glaring red flag. His lips form a frown, and he dips his chin to find your eyes.

"Hey," he says. "What's goin' on? Talk to me."

His tone is so sincere, you have to blink against the sting of tears. Your lower lip wobbles, and Dean frowns in earnest. He presses a hand to your cheek and gets you to look at him with your watery eyes.

"Sweetheart, you gotta tell me what's wrong," he says, more gently, but serious.

Eventually, you're able to get it out. You can't bear the thought of him touching you, because lately, you can't even bear looking at yourself.

"I know I've been gaining weight, I just..." your voice breaks, and you gesture haphazardly at your body. "I'd get it if you're not really into this right now."

Dean's heart clenches. He's downright shocked at your confession, and more than a little disheartened. He presses a hand to your cheek and guides you to look at him.

"All right, hold up just one damn minute."

His calloused fingers gently brush away your tears, but his hands keep moving, slowly traveling down your body. They slide down your bare arms, skimming the sides of your breasts.

Your breath hitches. Your hand is still fisted over your beating heart, keeping your towel closed. His hands continue to move, molding to the curve of your waist over the fuzzy fabric.

"I'll admit, we've been pretty busy lately with everything we've got going on. But if you think that means I'm ever not into this delectable, sexy, voluptuous, goddess body you got rockin' the house?" he says, grinning that utterly Dean grin of his.

You bite your lip against a bubble of laughter. He's too fucking much sometimes.

Dean tugs you closer, until your hips fit snugly against his through his slacks. His tall, broad frame crowds you. His lips skim your cheek, then over your lips in a tease.

He squeezes the flesh of your hips, tender and sensuous.

Your heart flutters at the feeling.

"Mmm, I like you nice and soft," he murmurs against your cheek, close to your ear. "Feels that much better when I fuck you."

A small gasp gets trapped in your throat, while the gravel depths in his voice go straight to your pussy in a pulsing throb of warmth.

By the time he claims your lips in a devouring kiss, you're all too willing to let him peel your towel open, drop it to the floor, and guide you backwards onto the bed.

There he'll take his time, forging yet another mental map of every plush square inch of you.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a busy man. You understand that.

As Sheriff, his job demands a lot from him. He's also a father and has an ex-wife to contend with. (You knew that going in, and you've come to love Emily too.)

However, you can't help but start to take it personally when your sex life begins to suffer. He's often claimed being tired...but there's another suspicion that's been taking root in your mind, feeding your doubts and insecurities about how your boyfriend sees you, and about how you see yourself.

When you slip into bed at night, a kiss goodnight is all he gives you lately, before he's sighing deeply and closing his eyes, his soft snores soon filling the room.

One night, you try touching his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his bearded cheek. He hums at the pleasant feeling.

"You wanna...?" You trail the question in his ear, pressing more sweet kisses down his neck.

"Aw, sweetheart," he groans. "I'd like to, but I think I'd just smother you. I'm about to pass out."

You huff a laugh. You teasingly walk two fingers across his chest. "What if I make it easy for you?"

You shift onto your side. Resting a hand on his chest, you lean down to kiss him. He hums at the softness of it, but the more passion you try to imbue into each new kiss, Beau isn't as responsive as you would like. Eventually, you stop all together.

You frown, becoming disheartened. "You're not into this, I guess."

He opens his tired eyes, gazes up at you in apology. He opens his mouth to reply, but you beat him to it.

"You know it's been a month since we've had sex," you say.

Beau frowns, sliding a hand up your back. Only now does he notice, with appreciation, the familiar silky négligée you're wearing.

"Nah, that doesn't sound right," he says.

"Well, it is," you say. "I know you say you're tired, but I mean, you've had this job for as long as I've known you, Beau." Your eyes fall away from him. "So is it the job, or...is it me?"

Beau's brows furrow. "Now wait a minute."

The mere thought dredges up what's been plaguing your mind recently, and it has your throat tightening. Tears of embarrassment and upset well up in your eyes, no matter how much you try to push it down.

You push away from him and turn away, crossing your arms. You try not to look at yourself in what used to be your favorite lingerie.

You can't stand the extra weight you've put on, mostly in your hips and ass, but in your middle and arms too.

You've gone through your own stress at work this year, with less and less time to try and take care of yourself, along with making sure Emily gets to and from school, cooking for the three of you, going to PTA meetings when Carla can't make it (since Beau often can't), and every other proverbial hat you wear.

Beau follows you, sitting up and laying a hand on your back. "Sweetheart--"

"I know I've put on a few. Hell, more than a few," you admit, hastily wiping under your eyes. "God, I can't even look at myself right now, let alone have you--"

"Hey. You stop right there," Beau says, more firmly. He gets you to turn around with his hand on your shoulder. He doesn't like the way you're curled in on yourself, as if hiding your body from his gaze.

That, and the sight of your tears damn well break his heart.

He cups the side of your face gently and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, followed closely by your lips.

You don't want to melt, but you just can't help it. You cling to the front of his shirt and lean into his kiss, like you've been lost in the desert, and his lips hold the breath of life.

You almost don't realize it when his arms slip around your waist. He earns a surprised yelp from you when he gathers you close against his chest and rolls you underneath him.

You land against the pillows in a huff. You stare up at his playful smile, his green eyes glinting with amusement, with fondness, and also with desire as they roam over your breasts, barely contained by dark green satin and lace.

"I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he says. His voice is a low, earthy drawl as his gaze rakes over you. His big hand runs down your side and over your hip, then down your bare thigh, squeezing soft, tender flesh. He slips that hand under the satin night gown.

His hand can't span your entire thigh, but it's not for lack of trying. Your heart beats a staccato rhythm at the way he looks at you, your breath hitching when his thumb dips between your legs, brushing against the damp, silky fabric of your panties.

"It's not because I don't find you sexy as hell. Believe me, darlin', I do," he says. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, especially when you're all laid out for me here."

And he means what he says. You know it by the hardness you feel pressing against your hip. You slip your fingers into his hair with a sigh.

He bows his head to press kisses along your neck; down and down, he noses at the thin strap of your night gown. His path of kisses continue, and he indulges himself by dipping his tongue between the valley of your breasts.

"Filling out this lacy little thing so nice," he murmurs into your skin.

Your upset has turned to abject relief, but you still have to blink away the remaining urge to cry.

You let out a slightly tremulous breath.

"Oh, yeah?" you ask.

Beau pauses. He pulls away, just so he can look up and meet your eyes. He still finds insecurity in yours, so he meets you with a kiss filled with heat and intent.

He's now wide awake. He plans to take his sweet time taking you apart, inch by inch.

In fact, in the back of his mind, he also plans to do better about letting his deputies help him out more at the precint so he can have a better work-life balance.

(Because going a whole damn month without the taste of you is "no bueno," in his words.)

Soldier Boy (Ben)

The man may not be very patient, or particularly perceptive, but he's not an idiot.

At least, not about sex.

He knows that you've been feigning tiredness, and generally avoiding his touch.

What's strange is that you haven't been avoiding him. You still cook for him, still share conversation with him, still insist on having him spoon you on the couch while catching him up on the past four decades of TV shows and movies.

But when he begins to sneak a hand under your oversized shirt (an old one of Ben's), caressing your hip, then dipping down to your softer stomach on the way to your panties, breaking your concentration from the movie as unease laces down your spine.

You grab his wrist on reflex, instead lacing your fingers together.

"What's the matter now?" he asks.

You look over your shoulder at him and find him frowning at you, a divot between his brows. You don't manage to hold his gaze for long.

"Sorry," you say quietly. "I'm just, um, tired."

Ben doesn't believe you, and he's direct when he calls you out on it.

Reluctant to put what you've been feeling into words, you pause the movie and leave the couch (and him) behind.

Ben is annoyed enough to follow you (and underneath, he hides an edge of concern). The conflict leads into the bedroom, where you're still unwilling to open up.

He finally stops you from walking away from him, pinning you against the dresser by your hips. He practically looms over you as he demands an answer. He knows you're hiding something — something that's had you reluctant to let him touch you.

"Is there something you wanna tell me?" he says, a raw edge of warning in his tone. "What, are you fucking somebody else?"

Shock flashes in your eyes, making you angry. "What? No!"

"Well, you seem to be getting your fill somewhere, and it hasn't been from me--"

"Are you fucking serious? I'm not..." Your lips purse. You're actually hurt that he would hurl that accusation your way--and it couldn't be farther from the truth.

You tug your long shirt downwards and cross your arms, but it's more like you're hugging yourself, shielding your body away.

Ben's brows furrow a little bit more.

Eventually you get it out; you haven't been feeling up to being intimate because you're having a hard time even looking at yourself lately.

"I know I need to, um, get back in shape," you say, taking in a shaky breath to try and steady yourself. Your throat constricts, the beginnings of tears stinging your eyes. You want to look at anywhere but at Ben. "I just haven't had much time, with everything going on. But Annie gave me this guide on some different diets, like intermittent fasting, Keto--"

"Fasting," Ben intones. "What, you wanna fucking starve yourself? What the fuck is Keto?"

You sigh, barely resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"No, not starve myself. And Keto's just..." The idea of trying to explain the new diet craze to your boyfriend is too daunting a task to consider. "Never mind. The point is, I have a plan. My hips, my thighs, my ass--"

Ben squeezes your hips at the mention of them. He happens to like the softness.

"Yeah, you've got a little extra. So fucking what?" he says, his voice deep and exacting as his gaze roams over your body. "Just gives me more to hold onto when I'm fucking you."

You utter a shocked laugh. "Ben!"

He grins lazily, and he turns you this way and that, admiring you from all angles. In his eyes, he doesn't find a side he doesn't like. You can't help but blush hotly under his gaze.

"Sweetheart, do whatever you want if it makes you feel good. But you don't need to starve yourself." His hands move to your ass, squeezing a bit harder on the plush flesh.

A yelp escapes you; he's pressing into you from the front as well, and you feel him heavy and already half-hard against you. You grab onto his arms for stability as your breaths quicken.

His attitude kind of surprises you, even though it soothes the frayed, insecure part of your soul that wants to be as beautiful and attractive in his eyes as he is in yours.

Ben is literally a super soldier. You're actually kind of jealous. The man can drug and booze hard and eat whatever the hell he wants, but his super metabolism just seems to absorb it into his washboard abs.

(The more you think about it, the more you want to smack him.)

Nothing about him isn't hard and lean, muscle and strength.

Only his hands have a measure of gentleless when they're holding you like this.

"I've just got so many stretch marks now," you begin to complain, in an emotional whisper.

He snorts. "And? You think it's anything I haven't seen? I'm not afraid of a little cellulite either."

At that, your head tilts in consideration. Butcher's Granny Fucker remark comes to mind. You bite your lip against a smirk.

Ben crooks a curled finger under your chin. He guides you to meet his eyes, before he lures you into a lusty kiss.

It's somewhat rough because of his beard, but you still smile afterwards, leaning against him now.

"Ain't nothing about you that I can't handle," he adds, all smirking and cocky. To prove his point, he hooks those strong hands behind your thighs and lifts you onto the dresser.

You gasp and cling to his shoulders. From there, he makes quick work of ridding the oversized shirt from your body, revealing you to the cool air and his hot gaze.

You take his face in your hands and bring him in for an even steamier kiss, your heart lighter and trembling with anticipation.

You've held yourself from him long enough, Ben thinks, and he has every intention of devouring you right on your old dresser -- before you two even get to the bed.

AN: 😮‍💨 I feel like each of these could've been even longer with their own one-shot loll. I wrote the Midnight Espresso-verse for Dean, partially to explore what his relationship would be like with a plus-sized reader. 💖💖

Let me know which one you liked most this time!

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[deansbeer]

✷ ◟ LAZY DAYS & LOADED TENSION ৎ᠀

library introduction minors do NOT interact!

SYNOPSIS. a lazy day with dean takes an unexpected turn when the tension ignites into an intense, passionate moment between you.

WARNING(S). heated make out session | f!reader | grinding | telepathic!reader | playful banter | ass squeezing (?) | domestic fluff | best friends to lovers / idiots in love trope | reader's a HUGE britney spears fan | older!dean | movie date | mentions of the DEAN CAVE | mentions of a gun | filthy semi-smut.

KARI'S 🗒️ NOTES. this was all heavily inspired by bree's & nat's lil monster <3 who i oh so love sososo much❗️get ready for some actual smut between these two on dean's bday (JAN 24) so for the next three days u will only be getting the cutesy awkward stuff (except for this one).

it's a lazy day in the bunker, one of those rare moments where the world outside seems to pause, letting you all take a breath. sam had gone out for his usual morning run, leaving dean behind, who you know is likely at the table cleaning his guns. bolt is curled up in his crate by your nightstand, fast asleep, his little nose twitching occasionally as he dreams.

you, on the other hand, are in your own little world. britney spears' gimme more is blasting through your earbuds, taking you somewhere far from the dimly lit bunker. your feet are bare, toenails painted a soft baby pink, and you're swaying to the music as you tidy up your cluttered room. you're wearing light blue high-waisted mom jeans, slightly loose around the ankles but hugging your hips perfectly, and a white baby tee with nothing underneath. the cool air in the room makes it so your nipples peek through the thin fabric, but you don't care—it's just you, after all.

your hair is set in pink plastic rollers, bouncing slightly as you move around, shimmying your hips to the beat of the song. you're lost in the lyrics, mouthing along as you pick up bottles of hair products, tossing them into a little basket by your tiny vanity.

the door to your room is open, but you don't think much of it. it's just dean here, and he's doing his own thing. you spin around slightly, half-dancing as you grab another bottle of mousse from your bed, when you feel it—a slight rub against your hip.

your body freezes, your heart jumping into your throat. instinct kicks in immediately, and you yank the earbuds out of your ears, the sound of britney's voice cutting off abruptly. your hand flies to the drawer of your tiny vanity where dean's gun sits, the weight of it familiar in your hands as you whip around, aiming it at whoever—or whatever—is behind you.

"whoa, whoa! easy there, sweetheart!"

the voice is low and familiar, and it takes you a second to realize it's dean. his hands are up in mock surrender, a calm look on his face as he steps closer, gently lowering the gun in your trembling hand.

"dean!" you scold, your voice coming out in a mix of relief and irritation. "what the fuck? you scared the crap out of me!"

he smirks, clearly amused by your reaction, though there's a softness in his eyes that lets you know he didn't mean to startle you. "sorry. didn't think you'd pull a gun on me."

you huff, setting the weapon on your vanity as you glare at him. "what do you want?"

he shrugs, leaning casually against the vanity like he doesn't have a care in the world. "finished cleaning my guns. thought we could watch a movie or something."

you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at him. "you interrupted my britney spears concert for a movie?"

he chuckles at that, the sound low and warm. "yeah, well, figured you could use a break from… whatever this is." he gestures vaguely to the rollers in your hair and the half-empty bottles of hair and makeup products scattered around your room.

you roll your eyes but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "fine, but give me a minute. i need to take these out and clean up."

"don't take too long," he says, pushing off the vanity and heading out the door and over to the dean cave.

once he's gone, you shake your head in amusement, pulling the rollers out one by one. your hair falls into soft, bouncy curls, the kind that make you feel like you've stepped straight out of an '80s movie. you run your fingers through them, fluffing them up a bit as you glance at yourself in the mirror. satisfied, you clean up the rest of the mess in your room before heading out, walking barefoot down the hall toward the dean cave.

you walk on your tiptoes, your curls bouncing with each step as you run a hand through them, feeling lighter than you have in days. when you step into the dean cave, you stop short, your mouth falling open slightly.

dean has gone all out.

the coffee table is covered in snacks—your favorite peanut m&ms, kettle corn popcorn, and a glass of wine poured into one of the fancy glasses you love so much. there's beer for him, of course, and a few of his own snacks off to the side. the couch has been replaced with a new, large u-shaped one, big enough for the two of you to sprawl out comfortably.

he's already sitting there, legs propped up on the coffee table, a beer in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in his lap. his other arm is draped casually across the back of the couch, and when he sees you standing in the doorway, his lips curl into a smug smirk.

"what do you think?" he asks, his voice teasing but with an undertone of pride.

you shake your head, a giddy laugh escaping your lips as you walk over to him. "you really know how to spoil a girl, winchester."

"only the best for you, sweetheart," he says, his tone half-joking but his eyes soft as they follow your movements.

you sit down beside him, tucking your legs underneath you as you reach for your glass of wine. the two of you settle in, the movie starting up on the screen as you sip your drink and munch on popcorn.

a few minutes in, you realize you've unconsciously gravitated toward him, your shoulder brushing against his as you lean against the couch. his arm stays where it is, draped across the back, his fingers just barely grazing your shoulder.

and then, somehow, everything shifts.

you're not sure how it happens, but one moment you're watching the movie, and the next you're straddling him, your fingers tangled in his flannel as his hands grip your hips.

his lips crash against yours, the kiss messy and desperate, all teeth and tongue as the two of you lose yourselves in each other. your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his t-shirt, while his hands slide down to your ass, squeezing firmly as you grind against him.

the friction is almost too much, denim against denim creating a delicious pressure that has you moaning into his mouth. his tongue tangles with yours, the kiss growing more heated by the second, and you can feel the slight scruff of his beard scraping against your skin in a way that only makes you want him more.

your breathing is heavy, your lips swollen as you pull back for a moment, but his hands keep you in place, his grip firm but not rough.

"you're so beautiful, baby, so fucking gorgeous," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire.

you don't respond—not with words, at least. instead, you crash your lips against his again, pouring everything you’ve been holding back into the kiss.

saliva drips down your chins from the intensity of it all, but neither of you care. all that matters is this moment, the weight of his hands on your body, the taste of him on your tongue, and the way he's making you feel like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

and for now, that's enough.

SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @deanswidow @lacydollette @fallbhind @beausling @figthoughts @frosttbitessam @bluestrd @florchids @ultravi0lence14 @starzify @honeyryewhiskey @bluemerakis @deansbite @lustagel @rafespreciosa @jasvtsc @voidsuites . . . ☆

[whisperingdaze]

the sound of rain intensifies for a moment, tapping against the motel window in a merciful crescendo before returning back to a stable rhythm. the wind whispering through trees in the distance.

inside the motel room, the heater sputters weakly, struggling against the harsh air outside. it’s not much warmer than the outside. the moonlight seeps through cracks of the curtain, casting a gentle glow on everything around you and dean.

dean’s chest is pressed against yours, his arms wrapped around your body, holding you as close as possible as your legs tangle with his. your foot moving up and down his ankle while his fingers lightly trace patterns along your skin, making you shiver at the feeling.

its as if time slows down when your with one another, there’s no need for words to be said because simply being there, together, is enough.

the steady sound of his heartbeat, his breathing matching yours. you can see his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. its comforting, you know he’s here with you and he’s not going anywhere. he’s safe, he’s alive and he’s okay.

you couldn’t breathe when dean wasn’t with you, you felt your heart ache for him. you mind would be running through endless possibilities of what could happen to him. every time he left, every time the door shut behind him, you weren’t certain you would see him after that.

it pained you to no end, the thought of never seeing him again. you didn’t know if you could live a life without him being in it, you weren’t sure if you could cope.

thats why you treasure moments like this with dean.

you can feel the warmth of his body flushed against yours. being with dean was easy, everything came naturally when being with him. it felt like home. he was your safe haven. your refuge.

the world fades away when your with him, leaving you two enclosed in your own little bubble of peace.

the quiet is soothing, only the soft rustle of the duvet and the rain tapping rhythmically against the window breaking the silence.

dean brushes a stray hair from your face, a small smile plays at the corner of his lips. he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, and moves so his forehead so is touching yours.

his warmth trickling into you as you lay there together, the presence of him filling the void you felt when he wasn’t with you, and in this moment, any fear and worry you were holding melted away, it was just the two of you, safe and content in each other’s company.

you and dean are just two souls, entwined forever.