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godmadeaterribleerror · 8 days ago

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I Could Have You

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Love Confessions, Smut (p in v, oral both receiving), light angst, soulmates, sex pollen.

Summary/Warnings: Dean is hit with a lust spell, and it doesn't seem to only be effecting him. No one's really sure why, and Dean refuses to give in to the curse, so you'll just ride this out.

You'll defiantly be able to just ride this out.

Author's Note: I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you enjoy it!

Title from Normal Fucking Rockwell by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 6k

You’re losing your mind.

Your skin is on fire, your back is flat on the cold bathroom floor, and you’re moaning and whining and bucking into the air but nothing is fixing this. Nothing is relieving you, not your fingers or the pillows or the toy a very red-faced Sam had bought you. Nothing is going to save you, because only one, stupid, handsome, selfless idiot can, and he’s suddenly too good to just fuck you.

Hell, that idiot is the only reason this is happening. According to Sam and Bobby, Dean got hit with a sex spell in Colorado, you started whimpering for him in South Dakota, and you’re not allowed to have sex with him for… reasons.

Reasons no one seems willing to fully share with you, but reasons.

You know Dean wants you. You’ve known he wants you. Neither of you have ever been able to do something about that—never going beyond flirting and lingering touches and stares—but you’re certain he feels the same way. Maybe not the exact same way, because you want whatever Dean offers you, his body or mind or heart or very soul, but you know he’s attracted to you. And if the countless little pieces of evidence you’ve hoarded in your brain—winks and smirks and long, apperceive scans of your body—weren’t enough for you to know, this was. You’d heard Dean roar your name from outside Bobby’s cabin as the Impala door slammed. You’d seen the feral, lust-blown expression on his face as he’d charged at you. Sam had tackled him to the ground as you’d grown a little dizzy with need, and Bobby grabbed your wrist, dragging you upstairs. Away from Dean, from the cure, from his big hands and soft mouth and huge-

“You’re gonna need to stay in here.” Bobby had muttered, refusing to meet your eyes as he shuffled out of the room. “Least until we get Dean’s head right, or figure out what the hell is going on.”

It’s been almost a day, and they’ve made almost no progress. From Sam’s last update, all they’re certain of is: Sex spell, you and Dean, no other options except you and Dean.

“What do you mean no other options,” you’d said, leaning up to frown at Sam. “Did Dean-“

“No.” Sam shakes his head, giving you a sheepish expression. “I mean, Bobby and I suggested it, but he said no.”

“Oh,” you’d mumbled, falling back down on the mattress. “Why?”

Sam had shrugged, leaning into your line of vision. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

“No, Sam, what the fuck-“

“That’s why.”

He’d stood up and left, and you hadn’t had a clue what the hell he was talking about. Sure, you didn’t want to have sex with him, but he was like a brother to you. Dean, somehow, wasn’t. Dean was Dean. And it wasn’t like you’d say no to a random, no-strings attached hookup right now-

Something had tugged in your gut, and you’d realized—staggering to the toilet and vomiting up your lunch—that you could not do a random hookup. You wanted Dean. You needed him. You might die if you didn’t get him, and it had to be him, and he must feel it too, but when you’d asked Sam he said no.

“No?!” You’d rolled over on the floor to glare up at him, wishing you could find the strength to surge up and punch him in his stupid, apologetic face. “What do you mean No?!”

“Dean, um,” Sam had sighed again, and if he kept doing that you were going to kick him in the balls. “He made us lock him in the safe room. He won’t come out until we cure him.”

“Why did he-“ You’d cut yourself off as it hit you, another, softer wave of sickness rolling over your body. The sickness lived in your heart. This sickness was made of the tragic reality that Dean might want you, but he didn’t want you. Maybe that was why he’d never made a move. Maybe he was attracted to you physically, but couldn’t see you like that, and didn’t really want to try to.

Maybe Dean was disgusted by the idea. Maybe he hated that his body found you hot, because he thinks of you like you think of Sam.

“Oh,” you’d rolled back onto your stomach, and prayed Sam would leave soon so you could go back to humping the floor. “Okay.”

Sam had said your name, waiting until you hummed an acknowledgment to continue. “We’re going to fix this-“

“I know.” You’d let out a long, slow breath, curling into your own body. “We always do.”

They would fix this. And then you’d have to look Dean in the eyes, and find a way to be okay with his rejection. Teach yourself how to not turn into a pining dumbass, chasing after someone who obviously didn’t want you. You wouldn’t lose him, he was your best friend, but you’d also have to learn to pretend it didn’t feel like your heart hadn’t just been ripped out of your chest and stomped on.

And now you’re here. Hoping Sam and Bobby will fix this soon, crawling into the empty bathtub to try and sleep. The bed is too warm, too intimate, to inviting of fantasies that will never be reality. Daydreams of Dean’s hands on you, trailing over your skin and setting of little sparks as he maps your body. Those same hands pushing open your thighs, two of his fingers teasing over your pussy, his mouth wrapping around your nipple as he started pumping and scissoring and crooking inside you-

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and you yank your own fingers out of your cunt, wiping them on the towel as you speak, your voice far too hoarse. “Yeah, Sam?”

“Not Sam.” Bobby grumbles, his voice slightly muffled through the door. “You decent?”

You toss a towel over your body, having long abandoned clothing. “Yep, is everything-“

You cut yourself off as Bobby pushes the door open, his face angled up to avoid you.

“I said I’m decent, Bobby, you can look.”

He grunts, and you sit up a little straighter, making your voice a little firmer.

“It’s weirder if you don’t, you know.”

Bobby nods, his gaze slowly dropping to yours as he sits on the toilet, bracing his arms on his knees. “Sorry.” He mutters. “Ain’t tryin’ to make it uncomfortable. Just not lookin’ to see one of my, uh-“

“I know,” you sigh, leaning your head back on the tile. “I get it. Must be weird seeing Dean as well.”

“Eh.” Bobby shrugs. “I’ve walked in on him with lady company before, this ain’t new-“

“But it’s new with me?” You ask, raising your brows, and Bobby glares at you.

“I didn’t help raise you girl. And you’re just as important to me as those boys, but you’re also a girl. I mean, not a girl, but I don’t got those parts-“

“Jesus, Bobby.” You mumble, bringing your knees up to your chest. “I’m teasing. I know what you mean, I promise, just,” you swallow, shaking your head slightly. “Sorry. I’m tired.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, but his voice becomes a little softer, and far less panicked. “That ain’t nice, kid, you’re gonna give an old man a heart attack.”

“You’d be fine. I know CPR.”

He gives you a flat look. “We both know you ain’t in any condition to give me CPR.”

You wave him off. “I’d call Sam.”

“He wouldn’t hear you, he’s down in the panic room with-“

Bobby cuts himself off, and you roll your head to the side, giving him a bored glare.

“You can say his name, Bobby.”

“Fine.” He grunts. “Sam’s down checkin’ on Dean. He,” Bobby frowns at the air. “He still ain’t listenin’ to reason.”

You hum, hoping Bobby doesn’t notice how you’ve moved the towel between your thighs, just for something. “Reason?”

“We don’t have anythin’ to cure this except, uh, that way.” Bobby mutters. “And he’s still insistin’ we keep him chained up.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Awesome.”

Bobby says your name, and it’s gentle. Like he’s consulting a child who’s had a nightmare, instead of a grown woman who was just finger-fucking herself in a tub. “You don’t gotta pretend this ain’t hurtin’ you.”

“I mean, it doesn’t feel good-“

“Not the spell.” Bobby says, and you frown at him.

“What-“

“Dean. He’s bein’ a fuckin’ dumbass, and you don’t need to act like he’s not.”

Your voice drops to a whisper. “He’s not what?”

“Killin’ you.” Bobby grunts, scanning over your face. “Rippin’ your heart out and take a big fat shit on it.”

You grimace. “That’s gross, Bobby-“

“Truth ain’t always sunshine and glitter-“

“It’s not the truth!” You snap, your voice suddenly harsh as something wilts and twists in his your chest. “I’m fine! I get it! Dean doesn’t want to do that, and that’s not his fault.”

Bobby leans back on the toilet, holding your glare with his own. “Why do you think you and Dean are the only idjits gettin’ hit by this? Why isn’t Sam humpin’ pillows and leavin’ stains on my walls?”

You feel a rush of heat from that thought—the image of Dean fucking into his hand flashing through your mind and leaving a mark between your thighs—and your voice is almost a squeak. “Because Dean’s the one that got hit?”

“Sam says he was in the line of that bitch’s fire too. But only Dean got,” Bobby makes a vague gesture over you. “This.”

“I don’t-“

“And Sam ain’t in love with his fuckin’ brother, so he was safe.”

You flush, gaping at Bobby for a long, wired silence, and when you speak your voice is a squeak.

“I- I’m, I’m not in love with Dean. I mean, maybe I have a crush, or something, but that’s, that’s not love-“

Bobby gives you a flat, disbelieving look. “You feel safer ‘round him?”

“Yeah, but I-“

“You laugh at all his jokes?”

“Maybe, but he can be funny-“

Bobby mutters your name, shaking his head. “I love that boy like a son, and he ain’t half as funny as he thinks he is.”

You frown. “He’s funny-“

“He can be,” Bobby shrugs. “But his jokes ain’t all winners. And you laugh at every single oneof ‘em. And,” he sighs, rubbing his beard. “He laughs at all’a your jokes.”

“Hey.” You scowl. “I’m a riot-“

“Didn’t say you weren’t. But even you can miss, girl. And he never seems to care.”

“So?” You shuffle on the floor, desperate not to starting grinding on the air in front of Bobby, but getting more and more wet from just the mention of Dean. “We’re friends, friends laugh at each other’s jokes-“

“Do friends get connected by sex spells ‘cross state lines?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “Never been hit by a sex spell before.”

“You weren’t hit by one,” Bobby snaps your name, starting to sound exasperated. “Dean was. And that’s my damn point. Sam and I, we,” he sighs, giving you a long, confusing look. “We got it. We know what’s goin’ on.”

“Fuck,” you sit up, glowering at him. “Why didn’t you lead with that-“

“Cause you ain’t gonna like it.” Bobby grunts. “It’s an old location spell. Back in the day rich assholes would cast it on their highest eldest sons, so he could find his,” Bobby cringes, his last word pushed through his teeth. “Mate.”

“Mate?” You repeat, letting out a dry, huffing laugh. “What are we, fucking dogs-“

“Soulmate.” Bobby mutters, giving you a look that might have been sympathetic, or kind, or pitiful, but you’re suddenly a little dizzy and can’t really think or see.

“That’s not,” you shake your head. “No, Bobby, soulmates aren’t real-“

Bobby says your name, his voice stern. “You should know better than to say somethin’ like that in our line of work. Sam called Cas, and he said they’re real, but population increases or somethin’ made them ‘logistically impossible’, so they aren’t on the shop line no more.”

“But- But wouldn’t we have like, I don’t know, noticed? If that was true?”

“You shoulda.” Bobby shrugs. “Cas seemed pretty shocked you hadn’t. Said he had assumed you knew, because the pull is like a magnet or some shit. Spell’s only an enhancer, to move the train along.”

“So why-“

“You hopped in right after Dean got back from hell.” Bobby mutters. “Dean’s soul mighta been fucked enough not to recognize you. Spell mighta jumpstarted it.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

It’s a few minutes before you speak again, and Bobby waits patiently as you spiral. Down, down, down in your head, trying to rationalize how this could possibly be true. It couldn’t be true. There was no way it was true. Sure, you’ve liked Dean since you first met him, from the moment he introduced himself with a cocky grin, smirk, and fake name. You liked him even more when you called him out on his fake name, and he’d just chuckled, figured out you were a hunter, and offered to buy you a drink. You’d liked him when that drink had turned into a long, sleepless night of only conversation, and when you’d joined him and Sam on the road. And you’d kept thinking of him like that, and you thought of him all the time, but that didn’t mean anything. You didn’t love him. It’s not like you feel better when you wake up in a motel bed and he’s next to you, or a smile always tugs at your lips whenever he so much as looks at you, or the thought of him being in alone or pain makes you physically ill. It’s not like, if he grabbed your hand and told you he was done with hunting—the only life you’d ever both known—then asked you to join him in a boring, easy apple pie life you’d immediately say yes and kiss him, because you’ll go wherever he goes and he’s the only person you’ve ever really-

Oh.

You might be in love with Dean.

You might be soulmates with Dean.

“What, um,” you swallow, watching Bobby carefully. “What did Dean think? Of this?”

“We have told him yet.” Bobby’s jaw ticks, holding your gaze. “We ain’t sure he’ll-“

“Yeah.” You whisper, turning your attention back to the ceiling. There’s a little crack on it. Jagged and split through the white paint, easy to stare at and get lost in. Helpful in pretending this doesn’t hurt like a bitch. “Okay.”

Bobby mutters a promise of at least trying to talk some sense into Dean, but you both know his words are empty. Because Dean won’t believe this. It won’t be a matter of you and Dean, it will just be Dean, believing something like a soulmate could never happen to someone like him. He’ll insist they’re lying, or Cas is wrong, or all of this fucking bullshit.

“You ever wondered about aliens?” He’d asked you once, leaning against the Impala as you lay on the hood, watching him from an upside-down angle.

“Just like, in general?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess,” you’d tilted your head at him. “Why?”

“I dunno, just curious.” There had been another moment of silence, then, “You think they’re real?”

“They have to be right?” You’d reached over your head, grabbing his chin and tilting it up, until he was staring at the night sky. “I mean, look at that, De. It’s huge.”

He’d chuckled, swatting your hand away. “Where have I heard that before-“

“Eat me, Winchester.” You’d rolled your eyes, and his shit-eating grin had grown. “No. Shut it.”

He’d raised his hands in surrender. “Didn’t say a thing.”

“Uh huh.” You’d let your own attention trail up, over the vast darkness above you, splattered in infinite stars that you think—if you really tried—you’d be able to grab and hold in your hands. Maybe offer one to Dean. He’d deserve it.

You were silent for a while longer, you watching the sky, Dean waiting for you to come back to earth, and when he’d spoken again his voice was soft.

“You think you’d want to go? If they were?”

You’d looked back to him with a frown, and found him already looking at you. “What, aliens?”

He’d nodded, and you’d furrowed your brow in thought.

“Maybe. I’ve never thought about it before. I kind of like Earth.” You’d rolled onto your stomach, swinging your legs around to rest in Baby’s open window as you looked down at Dean. “What about you?”

“Nah,” he’d held your gaze, pulling himself up to sit at your side. “Not now.”

“Not now?”

“I would’ve when I was younger, if I coulda taken Sammy with me.” Dean had let out a dry chuckle. “But I’m not that lucky.”

He wasn’t that lucky. Dean didn’t get to be abducted by aliens, because he wasn’t lucky. Because saviors and little lights to guide you forward don’t just drop out of the sky.

But you didn’t drop out of the sky. You’d been on the ground, and tangible, and very, very real.

You feel real, to yourself. You didn’t feel like a possibility, or a myth, or a lie.

And you might love Dean.

And you know that, the longer you don’t get to at least see him, touch him, breathe him, the more you go mad. The harder it becomes to speak to Sam and Bobby when they check on you, the less you allow them to even say the word Dean, because it makes you writhe and moan and everyone just gets very uncomfortable.

So if Dean’s too much of a righteous, noble, self-loathing buttface to do something about this, you will.

You wait until the house is dark and quiet. Until you hear Bobby mutter a goodnight through the door—about an hour ago you’d started whining every other breath and fucking the edge of the bathtub, so Bobby wasn’t coming into the room anymore—and Sam walks in backwards to make sure you’re not dead and have enough food and water. Like you’re a caged animal.

You do feel a little like one. You feel like someone’s sucked everything rational and careful out of your brain and replaced it with Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean, you need him or you’ll die. He needs to need you, or something worse than death will happen.

And you’re willing to risk that, that small possibility of Dean looking at you—bare and wet and pleading for him—and still turning you away, because at least you’ll see him.

You need to at least see him.

It’s shocking easy to sneak around the house. For two seasoned, well-respected hunters, neither Sam nor Bobby seem to wake up as you crawl down to Dean, despite the floorboard creaking under you movements and the downright pathetic whimpers that keep escaping your mouth. It takes all your focus to grab the key to Bobby’s panic room, unlock the door, and push it open.

It’s dark. Pitch black. But you know Dean’s in here, because every nerve is trying to fly off your body and into the shadows. To Dean.

“What the hell are you doing,” Dean groans your name from the back of the room, and you feel molten. “You can’t be here-“

“It’s not your panic room, Dean.” You mumble, pushing yourself up on the wall and fiddling around for the light switch. “I can be wherever I want-“

“Not here.” Dean snaps. “Go.”

You shake your head, and the lights blind you as you flip them on. It takes a moment to adjust—blinking and hugging your body in a desperate play to not leap across the room to Dean the moment you see him—and when you do a high whine escapes your mouth.

Dean looks as feral as you feel. He’s just as naked as you are, just as drenched in sweat and flushed, and—if the proud, massive cock between his legs, standing at full attention and twitching as he scans over you, is any sign—just as aroused.

“Dean.” You whisper. “Please.”

“You need to leave.” He grunts, his fists clenched at his sides. “Now.”

“I don’t want to go-“

“Yes, you do.”

You frown. “You don’t get to tell me what I want, Dean. I want to stay-“

“No,” he hisses, and you might come just from him looking at you like that. Primal and wanting, with a gleam in his eyes that feels like a promise. “You don’t know what you want-“

That gets you to scoff. “Fuck off, asshole-“

“See!” He makes a dramatic gesture, then flinches back from himself. “I, I can’t let you do this. You don’t want me,” Dean mutters your name, running a hand over his face. “The spell wants me. Doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, the spell does want you, you idiot!” You take an unsteady step forward, and he steps back. “Because I want you!”

“No, you don’t-“

“Yes, I do! I need you, Dean, and I think you need me-“

“Doesn’t matter what I need.” He grunts, bracing his body and you take another step. “Go back upstairs.”

“Did Bobby talk to you?”

He scowls. “Bobby’s wrong. That’s- No.”

“Because it’s me?”

“Of course not,” he snaps, and it’s too quick. “Because that, that’s not a thing. People would be runnin’ around, selling soulmates in little bottles if they were real. And we’d have known by now-“

“We do know now.” You whisper, swaying slightly in the middle of the room. “And Cas says-“

“Cas is wrong.” Dean mutters. “I don’t, there’s no way that’s true. Not for me.”

His beautiful, deep eyes look so sad. Glossed over and weighted down of years of that being the truth. That things like that, like this, don’t happen for Dean.

You’d really love to be the first exception.

“What about for me?”

“What are you-“

“What about for me, Dean.” You watch his jaw clench, his nostrils flaring. “Does it get to be true for me?”

He doesn’t answer, and you push on.

“If it’s true for me, it’s you.” You talk another step forward, and this time he doesn’t flinch. “Just you.”

“It’s just the spell.” He mutters, and you don’t think he’s convincing himself. Not when his throat bobs and his eyes darken. “You don’t want me, baby, not really.”

You almost fall over from that. From Dean calling you baby, and saying it the exact same way he says your name. Low and rolling and lined with something soft.

“I do.” You hold your ground, raising your chin. “I want you, Dean Winchester. Fix this.”

He shakes his head, barely a jerked movement, and you start to feel a little faint.

“Dean. I need you to look me in the eyes,” your voice starts to rise, growing pleading and frantic. “And tell me you don’t want me. Say that you wanting me is just the spell, and I’ll go. I promise. I just need to you to fucking say it, Dean, just fucking say you don’t want me or need me or love me-“

He moves before you even realize what’s happening. Almost leaping onto you as his mouth crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face as he walks you back, back, back into the wall and growls down your throat. And you’d been wrong. His hand on you don’t feel like small bursts of electricity. They’re like lighting. Dragging something you hadn’t known existed to the surface, and setting off a storm of need in your body.

“Course I want you,” one arm snakes around your waist, pressing your right into his erection. “Always fucking wanted you. You’re smoking hot,” he starts to kiss over your face, his words slightly muffled against your skin as you cling to his body. “Funnier than I am, and smart as hell. You feel like home and smell so good and, fuck, I’ve lost sleep thinkin’ about how it’d feel to get lost in you. I’d have to be fucking blind and dumb not to want you,” Dean grunts your name, returning your mouth to yours with a painfully soft, gentle, featherlight kiss. “But I’m not-“

“If you say good for me,” you mutter, leaning back to glare at him. “I’ll punch you.” He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, rumbling from his chest into yours. “I’m not-“

“You are.” You whisper, offering him a small, slightly broken smile. You need him to get this. You might start crying if he doesn’t. “You’re good for me. And I want you. I love you.” Something flashes in his eyes, and you don’t care if he believes you. He doesn’t have to believe you. He just needs to get it. “No spell, Dean. I’m here, and I’m yours. Take me.”

Your nails dig into his skin—attempting to leave a mark of him if he turns you away—and his breathing is ragged. Heavy and hot, fanning across your face as he stares at you, just stares at you, why is he just staring at you-

“Dean-“

This kiss is brutal It’s teeth and tongue and bruising lips, like he’s trying to move into your body. His hands are everywhere on you, squeezing your ass and palming your tits, rolling your nipple between two fingers before groaning down your throat when you moan.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters your name, his hand on your ass glides onto your pussy, playing with your folds and flicking at your clit once, twice, three times and you feel fucking high- “So wet for me-“

“For you,” you whimper, nodding stupidly as Dean presses him thumb down on that bundle of nerves, rubbing slowly. “Fuck, Dean, all for you-“

“Need to taste you,” he growls, pulling his mouth fully back, watching you grind onto his hand with a dark gaze. “You gonna let me taste you, baby? Let me eat that pretty pussy-“

You’ve barely nodded before he’s on his knees, one arm still around your waist to support you both as he dives into your cunt.

Oh.

He’s good at this. Really, really fucking good at this. You can’t really think anything that’s not Dean, or make any noise that’s not a moan kind of good at this. He’s ravenous and starved, his nose bumping and pressing into your clit in an impossibly mind-numbing rhythm, his tongue plunging in and out of your cunt until your squirming above him, desperate for more.

“Dean,” your hand tug at his hair, and you don’t know if you’re trying to push him deeper or pull him away. “Shit, Dean, I’m gonna cum-“

He groans against you, his eyes opening to watch you come apart above him, and you think he might be getting off on this.

“Please,” you whimper. “God, please, I need to cum-“

Dean bites your clit, and your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. It’s all bliss and relief and a high, bright haze of Dean, and then you’re falling down.

Dean’s pulling you down. Onto his lap as he leans back, moving you to straddle over him as his cock throbs between his legs.

You want to touch him.

You push back on him, just enough for his grip to loosen, and take him in your hand. He’s huge. And pretty. Dicks aren’t supposed to be pretty, but Dean’s is, and it might be because every part of Dean is pretty. Every part of him is impossible pretty, from his cock twitching in your hand as you run your thumb over the slit, to his lidded eyes and parted mouth as he watches you with wonder.

“Shit,” he moans your name, and fuck, even that was pretty. “What are you doing to me-“

“Handjob,” you whisper, placing your free hand lightly on his chest in a silent request for him to lay back. “I think.”

Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back with a smirk. “Ya think? You sure you know what you’re doing with that- Fuck-“

You hum around Dean’s cock, your lips wrapped around the base as your tongue swirls around his shaft, and his groans are sinful. The fire in your corse hadn’t lessened by any means from your orgasm, but it grows unbearable as you move Dean’s hand to your hair and let him guide you up and down. Let him set the pace, moaning when his hips jerk and he hits the back of your throat, and squeezing his thighs in silent reassurance that you’re good. You’re really, really good. You’re grinding onto Dean’s knee as he fucks your face, playing with his balls with your free hand and devouring every bit of slightly slurred praise that falls from his mouth.

“Fucking hell, baby, you always been this good at sucking cock? You’re, shit, you look like a wet dream, look like an angel, fuck.” He hisses at your teeth graze over him. “You look so good like this. Mouth stuffed full of cock, desperate and wet for me-“ You roll your hips against him, and Dean tugs you fully up, smirking at your swollen lips and glossy eyes. “Careful,” he warns, sitting up as his thumb swipes a little bit of drool from your cheek. “When I’m cumming tonight, I’m cumming in you, baby, got that?”

“Yes, please,” you whimper. You’re on the pill anyway. “Dean-“

“C’mere.” He tugs you into his lap with careful hands, scanning over you with a small shake of his head. “Son of bitch, you’re gorgeous. You’re sure you-“

“I’m sure.” You grind against his cock, never looking away from him as the head of him bumps your clit. It goes on for too long, Dean just watching you fuck yourself on his lap with his hands bruising your hips, and you start to whine. “Shit, Dean, need you-“

Dean surges forward, kissing you long and deep and slow, and keeps his brow pressed to yours as he looks down to where you’re moving on him.

“Hold on,” he mutters, and you follow the order without a second thought.

Your arms wrap around Dean’s neck just as he lines himself up, and you almost scream when he pushes into you.

“Shit,” he looks back at you, eyes wide. “Are you-“

“Don’t stop,” you moan, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Fuck, it feels so good, Dean, don’t stop.”

He nods, kissing the side of your head, and slowly moves into your aching pussy until he bottoms out with a long exhale.

“Gonna, fuck-“ He groans as you squeeze around him. “Can’t do that, baby, I won’t last a minute-

“Sorry,” you mumble against him, playing with the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. “Didn’t meant to-“

“It’s fine.” He grunts, still not moving. “Just, fuck, you feel so good. So warm,” he groans, pressing his face onto the top of your head. “So tight and warm, feel so good-“

“Dean, please-“

You gasp as he gives one, short thrust upward.

“So good,” Dean growls in your ear, making another small, dizzying movement that presses him right up against that spongey spot deep inside of you. “Ready?”

“Ye-“

You squeal as Dean rises to his knees, keeping himself sheathed inside you as he falls forward, his hand splayed on your back and holding you carefully against him. His face is resting between your breasts, his cock angled so deep inside you it might drive you insane if he doesn’t start to fucking move, and his eyes stay yours as you only watch each other for a long moment.

He’s asking permission. Dean’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving, because he’s offering you one last chance to turn him down.

You move one hand to hold his face, wrapping your legs around his waist and squirming around him in silent encouragement.

It snaps something in him. Dean grabs your hand, moves it onto the back of his neck, and lowers you fully onto the ground so you’re caged between him and floor. He scans over you for only a second, a small, cocky smirk crawling onto his face, leans down to give you one last, almost sweet kiss.

A soft moan leaves you as Dean traces his tongue over your lips, and his low growl is the only warning you get before he starts to fuck into you like an animal.

It’s sloppy and wet and loud, skin slapping against skin as Dean abuses your cunt, and fuck you’ve never felt better. You feel full, split open on his cock and right where you belong, alive in a way that seeps right into your soul and ignites your blood into a holy fire of Dean. Groaning your name on your skin and touching you with calloused, big, expert hands. Watching you as you unravel beneath him, scraping your nails over his back and making needy sounds that only spur him on.

You’re going to fly out of your body. Dean’s muscles are ripping above and around you as he fucks you into the floor, and his mouth is mold perfectly onto yours. Neither of you seem to care to breathe, or speak, or do anything but nips and suck and lick at each other. Trying to get impossibly closer, to drag the other over the edge so you can fall with them. You grind up into Dean, and Dean bites your lip. Dean rolls his hips as he bottoms out, making your mouth fall open for his tongue to plunge down your throat, and you scrape and claw as his chest until he groans, and you manage to slip one hand down to play with his balls.

He wins he swats your hand away and starts to rub small, firm circles on your clit. He’s unrelenting, and watching you with an affection that feels a little misplaced for the carnal hunger on his handsome features.

“Always want you,” he mutters your name, pressing his thumb flat against you. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your vision blurs as you find release, and it feels like heaven. Like stars and fire and water and light under your skin, in your blood, like a halo around your head that’s all just the pleasure Dean’s is still wringing from your body. Your pussy is fluttering and gushing around his cock, and it sends him over the edge with a roar, his hips slamming home as he paints the walls of your cunt white.

And when you’re both spent and Dean rolls you over—carefully adjusting you to be right on top of him, his body a barrier between you and the now-cold floor—you feel good. Really, really good. Fucked out and high, nothing trying to burst out of your skin or eat at your stomach. You feel better than you might have ever felt in your whole life. The only warmth in your body is heat you’re trading with Dean, and you feel good.

“We, um.” You trace over his tattoo, looking up at him under your eyelashes. “We should probably talk, or something-“

“Or something.” He agrees, grinning down at you. “Don’t feel like it’s a rush though. Sammy and Bobby will find us in the morning. Right now,” Dean kisses your brow, squeezing his arms around your body. “You’re all mine.”

You can be all his. It’ll be really, really easy to be all Dean, because he hasn’t said he loves you, but he does. You know he does. It lives in how he’s still touching and holding you, still talking to you like you’re his best friend and not a mistake, and running his hands through your hair mindlessly.

And you’ll have a lot to talk about later. A lot to fight about, and fuck about, and laugh and cry and scream about.

But right now you just have to be Dean’s.

And that will be really easy.

End Note: Bobby Singer you are fifty times the father John Winchester could ever HOPE to be.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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lostalioth · 3 months ago

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𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

→ premise: there existed no such cricumstances in which dean doesnt want your lips against his. bloodied, bruised, even with broken bones, a kiss from his girl makes it all better.

→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: tw: blood, fluff, but some sort of instense making out, established relationship, descriptions of blood and injuries, blood in mouth, nicknames [baby, sweetheart, my girl], reader is described a bit to have anxiety

→ a/n: as always i hope dean isn’t too out of character as i have never written for him! enjoy my loves :) and sorry its short.

A hunt had gone south they got the monster and it was done but Dean was injured, they were headed back to the bunker. That was all Sam spit out over the phone, normally you appreciated his ability to get straight to the point. Currently you were cursing it as he hung up shortly after cause he was the one driving back. You had a million and one questions running through your head and more than half of them weren’t good.

This was the part of the boys going off hunting and you staying back that you hated the most. When one of them got hurt or something went wrong and all you could do was sit there, a chill running down your spine as your blood boiled in your veins, anxiously pacing the living room, trying to not let yourself jump to the worst conclusions which you regularly failed to do.

You used to go on hunts with them and instead of you currently being the one riddled with anxiety, it was Dean. Once the two of you pulled your heads out of your asses (as Sam would say) and realized you’ve had feelings for each other for years, you got together. Being officially together seemed to make Dean's protective nature increase tenfold. He was even more terrified to lose you now than before. He began fussing over you whenever you'd get even the slightest scarpe or bump on a hunt. He would glue himself to your side the whole duration. Forcing you to normally stay back in the motel room when the hunt turned into a more dangerous situation than dean cared to put you in.

You loved Dean but it began to get a bit too tedious to deal with and even Sam made a comment on how overprotective he was being. In an attempt to make hunts go easier and ease your boyfriend's anxiety, once you all situated yourselfs in the bunker you suggested to him that you go out on hunts less, especially when they could now take Cas. Dean jumped at the suggestion but you couldn't blame him.

“I think that's a great idea baby” he said with a kiss to your forehead.

You still helped out, researching things when Sam needed the help, going through old books and files in the library, patching them up when they’d come back with cuts and bruises. You hadn't realized just how jittery you'd be however stuck in the bunker when he was out and especially when they went on far away hunts.

They'd go to the hospital when things were really bad, so you knew if the boys were on their way back then it couldn’t be too bad. The reminder did nothing to sooth your racing thoughts, your heart thumping so hard you could practically hear it pounding in your ears. You didn't know just how long you've been pacing back and forth, too afraid to look up at the clock and realize it's only been a few minutes since Sam called.

You don't hear the sound of baby pulling into the garage, your head is too clouded as you were damn near about to wear a grove down into the old floors. The sound of a door shutting loudly and two sets of heavy footsteps are heard down the hallway. Spinning so quickly on your feet you nearly lose your balance you turn to face the noise. Watching as the brothers emerge from the dark hall, Dean's arm rests on Sam's shoulder almost using him like a human crutch. You let out a small gasp making them stop and both of their eyes snap up to yours, weather you gasped in surprise at the state of your boyfriend or in relief you can’t tell.

“Hi sweetheart, We’re home” Dean tilts his head, his voice laced with his usual sarcasm and deep tone. He pushes off of Sam, clearly able to at least stand on his own, slowly making his way over to you a small limp in his step.

In the blink of an eye you’re rushing into his arms, your soft hands grabbing ahold of his beaten up face and crashing your lips against his. He grunts out a “fuck” in surprise or pain the word dying in his throat turning into a noise as his eyes fall shut and he grabs ahold of your hips. With a sharp tug he pulls your body as close as he can to his, his hands sliding up your sides. His bloodied lips against your plush ones, kissing you like a man starved, a kiss you’ve come accustomed to when he comes home from longer hunts. “Missed you” he hums in a hushed tone into the kiss for only you to hear, making your racing heart only speed up. His blood flows into your opened mouth as the kiss goes on, the metallic taste on your tongue foreign but you were far too relieved he was back in one piece to care about the blood coating your tongue.

Any pain Dean felt after the whole ordeal and from the bumpy ride back to the bunker seemed to fade from his body. He could care less about his brother's presence still in the room or the blood still dripping from his face and that covered his clothes or his split lip. It felt as if all the bruises that were forming on his body were already being kissed away as your soft lips slid against his. The taste of your mouth overcoming the taste of the blood in his, your scent calming his body, reminding him he's finally home again. Your body grounding him.

A rough deep cough stops the moment making the two of you reluctantly pull away, lips swollen and parted as you catch your breath.

“Before this gets any more R-rated maybe we should patch him up and you know clean him up” Sam suggested with a small light hearted chuckle as he walks off to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. You were grateful you remembered just yesterday that it had needed to be restocked. “Sorry Sammy” Dean calls after him, you turn your head away and follow up with a “Sorry not sorry” down the hall after him making a small smirk grow on your boyfriend's face.

Once he's out of eye sight, Dean grabs ahold of your face by lightly squeezing your cheeks and turns your head back to face him. Leaning down to begin softly kissing you again, groaning against your lips when the pain in his body begins to return.

“Who needs a first aid kit, all i need is my girl's kisses” He mumbled softly against your mouth, making you break out into a smile. A small tear slips down your cheek, your breath returning to your lungs and the chill in your spine fading as relief finally settled over your body knowing he's okay.

→ a/n: if you enjoyed please reblog or send me some dean requests id love to write more for him!

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deans-queen · 4 months ago

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Stolen Moments 📸

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)

Summary: Y/N finds herself unable to resist capturing a rare, peaceful moment of Dean Winchester sleeping in a motel room. But when Dean wakes up and catches her in the act, what starts as an innocent photo op quickly turns into an intimate encounter.

Warnings: light smut, fluff, Dean being hot while he’s asleep (if I missed any lmk)

Y/N couldn’t help herself. Dean Winchester, the ever-tough hunter, was sprawled out on the motel bed, sound asleep. His usually furrowed brow was relaxed, lips slightly parted, and his broad chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. The sight of him so vulnerable, so at peace, was a rare one, and Y/N felt a flutter in her chest that she couldn’t ignore.

She quietly picked up her phone, careful not to make any noise that might wake him. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the cracked blinds, casting soft shadows across Dean's face. The perfect light for a candid shot. Y/N brought her phone up, framing the image, and snapped a few photos. She moved slightly closer, wanting to capture the way his lashes brushed against his cheekbones and the stubble that darkened his jawline.

In her concentration, she didn’t notice the small twitch in Dean’s fingers, nor the way his breathing changed ever so slightly. As she leaned in for a closer shot, a low, gravelly voice broke the silence.

Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat as she looked up to find Dean’s piercing green eyes fluttered open and stared back at her, one brow arched in that classic Dean Winchester way. His lips curved into a lazy smirk, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?”

“I, uh…” She fumbled for words, trying to explain herself, but Dean just chuckled, the sound deep and warm.

“Could’ve just asked for a picture, you know,” he said, pushing himself up on one elbow. “But I gotta admit, it’s kinda cute you were sneakin’ around like that.”

Y/N bit her lip, her embarrassment quickly turning into something else as Dean’s gaze lingered on her, his smirk fading into something more serious. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her hand, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost a command.

She didn’t hesitate. Y/N moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. Dean’s hand slid up her arm, his touch gentle but firm as he pulled her towards him. She leaned in, her heart pounding in her chest, until their faces were just inches apart.

“You gonna keep takin’ pictures, or are you gonna give me something to remember?” Dean’s voice was a low rumble, and the way he was looking at her made her pulse quicken.

Y/N didn’t need any more encouragement. She closed the distance between them, her lips finding his in a kiss that was soft at first, tentative. But Dean’s response was immediate, his hand moving to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. The room seemed to fade away, the only thing she could focus on was the feel of his lips against hers, the way his stubble scratched her skin in the most intoxicating way.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them slightly breathless, Dean’s thumb brushed over her cheek, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Next time, you could always just ask for what you want, baby girl.”

She smiled, her earlier nerves completely gone. “And miss out on all the fun? I don’t think so.”

Dean chuckled again, pulling her down onto the bed beside him, his arm wrapping around her waist. “Guess I can’t argue with that.”

As they lay there, Dean’s fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin, Y/N realized just how much she enjoyed these quiet moments with him, the rare times when the world seemed to slow down, and it was just the two of them. And maybe, just maybe, she’d have to start sneaking more pictures of him when he wasn’t looking. After all, Dean Winchester was a sight worth capturing.

Authors Note:

Hope you enjoyed this story!

@deanwinchestersgirl8734 requested this and I thought it was such a cute idea! Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

Want to read more? Check out my other stories!

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#supernatural #jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural family #supernatural fandom #supernatural fan account #fanfiction #supernatural edits #supernatural fanfiction #deanedit #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester reader insert

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gingerteafairy · 16 days ago

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woman's duty (ben x reader)

just ben being ben on an average family meeting

tags: grumpy!ben, drabble, wife!reader x husband!ben, softdom!ben, mentions of sex, bad language, misogyny, breeding kink.

The sun was shining brightly over your parents' backyard, the scent of barbecue filling the air as laughter and chatter mingled. Ben, ever the charmer, was deep in conversation with your dad—bonding over beer, old sports games, and their mutual grumbles about how “things were better in the old days.” It wasn’t long before he wandered back inside, finding you in the kitchen where you were tossing a salad while your mother busily set the table.

“Hey, sugarplum, when’s lunch gonna be ready? I’m starving,” he grumbled, sliding up behind you and planting a quick kiss on your cheek. His arms wrapped lazily around your waist, pulling you against him.

You smirked, not missing a beat. “When you boys help us with something around here, lunch will magically be ready faster.”

He groaned dramatically, resting his chin on your shoulder. “C'mon, it’s a woman’s duty,” he drawled, biting your shoulder playfully, knowing full well it would get a rise out of you.

You spun around, crossing your arms and glaring up at him. “How does a misogynist like you end up with a wife and kids? Like, really?”

Ben grinned, undeterred, and tugged you back into his embrace despite your mock indignation. “Simple,” he said, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “We only date if it’s worth it. Can’t risk ending up with some ‘new age girl’ who doesn’t know the good'old values. A man raises his voice one decibel these days and—boom! Jail.”

“Good you never raised your voice with me. Maybe you're not that dominant cause you fear your wife, huh?” You teased, raising your eyebrow playfully as you poked his chest.

“Nah, I keep all my care for my lovely scary wife,” he joked, chaste kissing your lips. “But the whores out there? Fuck, they wanna get spanked, shouted and take advantage of the good men of this country. We get the women we know it's worth to raise a family”

“You’re awful,” you muttered, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. He was grumpy, but never did or said something to hurt you, he was a cutie pie around the woman who stole his heart.

“And yet, here I am—your awful husband,” he teased, leaning in to peck your cheek. “Lucky f'me, you’re too kind and forgiving to hold my totally hilarious misogynistic jokes against me.”

“You’re lucky for me having a weird unnatural submission kink,” you shot back, rolling your eyes, though the warmth in your voice betrayed you. “Got all warmed up with you grumpy saying take off your clothes, woman. I'm gonna use you to get more babies.”

“I love you for that, so obedient,” he murmured, grinning as he kissed you again, his grumpiness fading away in the glow of your laughter. “think I wanna make babies now. Down your panties f'me, please, hm?”

“oh, you do?” You tease, biting your lip when he presses his pelvis against you, with his cock already pulsating. Groaning when you wiggled your lower body playfully on his forming tent.

“You’ the death of me, sugar. You and your fucking pretty ass.” He whispered disereful, biting your jaw as he squeezed your ass in his big calloused hands.

Your mother, now halfway through setting the table, cleared her throat loudly. “If you two are done flirting, maybe Ben can help carry the food out?”

“See?” you said smugly, shooting him a triumphant look. “Guess it’s not just a ‘woman’s duty’ after all.”

Ben groaned but grabbed a tray anyway, muttering about how the food better taste amazing. You just laughed, knowing full well he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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supercap2319 · 6 months ago

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Soldier Boy: "You know... you'd look good riding me." *Winks*

Y/N: "And you'd look great in a body bag."

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x male reader #jensen ackles #the boys #gen v prime

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supernotnatural2005 · 2 months ago

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The Great Sam Winchester C*ck Block!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

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

Word Count: 4106

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

Bingo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3 Days Later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Sam.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bliss. Thats what this was. Pure unadulterated bliss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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goldenispunk · 7 months ago

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pov: your camera roll from life on the road with the Winchesters

#supernatural post for the supernatural website #Supernatural moodboard #supernatural #jensen ackles #dean winchester #spn #sam winchester #jared padalecki #Dean Winchester x reader #sam Winchester x reader #self insert #x reader

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justwhisperingfantasies · 29 days ago

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Imagine ♡

You wake in the fimilar bed of Bobby's spare bedroom. You feel a sting of disappointment as you reach your arms out to find Dean's side cold and empty. You sigh and get up.

As you walked down the stairs, you inhaled the scent of waffles, beacon, and fresh coffee. You lean on the kitchen doorframe, and a smile spreads across your face. He's standing in front of the stove, wiggling his hips and singing along with the music playing on his phone. He turned around to fill his mug. A shy smile on his face as he realizes he had an audience. "Morning baby."

"Mornin Mick Jagger."

He laughs and lifts his head. "Sit down. I'll get you some coffee." He changes the song as he pours. You laugh as Start Me Up by The Rolling Stones starts playing. He dramatically turns around and starts singing. Making you laugh again. He starts thrusting his hips as he walks your coffee over.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

#dean imagine #dean supernatural #spnfandom #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #jensen fucking ackles #spn reader insert #dean fanfiction #dean w #supernatural dean #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 28 days ago

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The Villain’s Protector (Part 3) - Closer

Summary: The reader's in a bad spot when she's cornered by three infected intruders. But when the danger passes, she and Ben need to decide if they really can live together or if they'd be better off on their own...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, violence, life-threatening situations, death (minor characters), mentions of past torture

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving this week! Please enjoy Ben being an asshole/also his hilarious attempts at making up for it...

________

“Oh my god!” Both men spun their heads towards the back door, giving you a chance to make a break for it. You had to deal with the woman but at least you had a chance against her. In three large steps you were in front of her, ducking down to miss her punch. You kicked her knee, the woman shrieking and falling, giving you a chance to kick her back and shove her into your bedroom. You dove into the one across the hall, slamming the door shut behind you. Ben’s suit was draped over the back of a chair, his gun still in it’s holster.

Fuck it.

You abandoned barricading the door, barely getting across the room before it flew open, all three of them standing there. The gun was in your hand within a second, finger squeezing the trigger blindly. You hit one of them, the other two shouting behind him. You jumped to the right to avoid the woman, getting a few more rounds off. She went down when a blur slammed into you. You crashed back against a window, falling through it and straight onto the back deck. Something sharp was in your back and your hand was empty, eyes blearily opening as the red streaked man stood over you with the shears.

“You could have been one of us, bitch.” He opened the blades and drove them downwards, straight for your torso.

With a swift breeze, he was gone. You blinked rapidly, Soldier Boy standing over you, staring off to the side of the yard. Every muscle ached but you managed to look, spotting the man impaled on the shears about two hundred feet away in the grass. Strong hands turned your head, Ben’s face almost…worried?

You blinked, reaching up to grab his wrist, his eyes wide.

“You have glass all over. You need-”

“Are you wearing fucking oven mitts?” You smiled, Ben staring at where your hand rested on the pink things. “Pink oven mitts?”

“Shut your mouth,” he said, pouting when you sat upright with a groan. He ripped them off, kneeling beside you with a grimace. “Uh. How true is that whole can’t die thing?”

“That’s actually really smart,” you said, nodding to the mitts. “If they can’t touch your skin, maybe we can keep you safer. Keep us both-”

“Y/N!” He grabbed your shoulders, eye twitching. “Do not lose it on me. Will you die if I rip that giant shard of glass sticking out of your back out?”

You shook your head, already pulling pieces out of your legs and arms. He sighed, gripping the glass and pulling it out fast, your heart skipping a beat.

“Warn a girl,” you grit out, hands reaching for anything to grip onto through the pain which meant his shirt before you.

“You’re bleeding a lot,” he said. Shaking, you buried your face in his neck, breathing hard. “Y/N-”

“Take the rest out.” He tore your ruined shirt and jacket off, cool air hitting your back. He didn’t speak as he pulled out the other large shards you felt there but he flinched when you jerked into him and yelped.

Finally, you felt they were all gone, your head throbbing angrily but you knew it’d dissipate soon.

“I totally had that guy by the way,” you mumbled. Ben’s chest rumbled beneath you, his warm body lulling you into a calmness. “Was that a laugh, Benjamin?”

“You are something else.” With some effort, you leaned back, Ben grasping your chin and turning your face. “Shit, your cuts are healed already.”

“I’m just that special,” you said, trying to stand but falling straight against him when a sharp bolt of hot fire ran across your back.

“You heal fast but the pain-”

“Takes longer. I’ll be better in an hour.” You didn’t move from where he cradled your body against his, Ben’s body strangely relaxed. “Bet you’re happy. You got my shirt off.”

“You do have great tits,” he mumbled, tucking your head under his chin. You raised your eyebrows, gaze focused out on the lake.

“Ben, there could be more people nearby. We should probably move somewhere-”

“In the eighties I hired a young couple to take care of this place. They had a baby at the time I think. Landscape. Cleaning. That’s why that woman and those men were here. I let them live here in exchange for upkeep and I forgot they were here. This was my fuck up.”

“It was an accident, Ben. I don’t blame you. I’m fine.”

“You don’t realize you screamed when I took those glass pieces out, do you? The only reason you were in there alone was because I pissed you off again. I fucking forgot. I bring out your fucking shell shock, I screw up and you’re shaking in pain because of it. That’s not what a man does.” You sighed, taking a deep breath.

“Soldier Boy, you are ridiculous.” You moved your head so you could face him, Ben’s jaw clenched. You let your head fall onto his shoulder, offering a smile. “I’ve known evil men. Shitty, evil men. But you? You put on pink oven mitts which I’m confident you’ve never worn anything that shade in your life for fear it would shrivel your dick up. Yet, you did it for me. Here you are, apologizing in your own, albeit half-assed, way and look at that. Your dick is still just as big as it was an hour ago.”

He pouted, turning to look at the waters of the lake, ignoring your attempts at getting him to acknowledge his idea of what a man was wasn’t the only one . “Why did you break me out of that CIA black site? The truth this time.”

You closed your eyes, turning your head back under his chin when sharp, stabbing pains started up in your abdomen again. You tried to bite back the whimpers that caught in your throat but a few slipped through, Ben squeezing you tighter, anchoring you.

“Because there’s nothing worse than being trapped, unable to die, only to spend every waking moment in pain. All you want it someone to rescue you. So that’s what I did,” you said quietly.

He hummed, shifting his arms around you, holding your body against his.

“Do you still think I only want to use you, Ben?” He was quiet, slow steady beats of his heart thrumming underneath you for a moment.

“I could be evil. People thought that about me once upon a time. It’s how I ended up in Russia.” You shrugged, Soldier Boy shifting beneath you, soon carrying you back inside bridal style. You poked open an eye, Ben watching you closely. “I was trapped for a reason. Give it five minutes and you’ll hate my guts again.”

“Why would I hate the boy that wears pink oven mitts for me?” you teased. He rolled his eyes so hard you swore they were going to pop out the back of his head. You let your eyelid fall shut, head lolling back until he adjusted you. “If you end up screwing me over, then fine, you’re a monster. But until otherwise, will Mr. Evil please get me into a bath tub?”

“Your generation is fucking insufferable,” he grumbled, walking across the deck, in through the back door.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say, Satan.”

“What did I say about shutting that fucking mouth?”

“Ben.” You opened your eyes when a door creaked, Ben setting you down in a large claw foot tub a moment later. You tilted your head, his face a mixture of annoyance and wanting to get out of the room as fast as possible.

“What?” he growled, turning the water on warm and slow for you, setting some towels down next to the tub.

“Just wanted to say we had a whole conversation where we didn’t fight. I think you’re in serious danger of losing your asshole status if you keep this up.” He gave you his bitch face and dropped a bar of soap in your hands. “Admit it. You like this, being yourself again.”

“You are weak and pathetic and like all women, you need a man to save you and then complain about us in the same breath. I ain’t a fucking pussy so don’t get fucking comfortable with me thinking I’m like your fucking girlfriend. I give the orders, not you.” He stood up and slammed the door on his way out.

So much for that progress.

You and Ben kept your distance after that. You spent most of the day cleaning the blood off the walls and floor while Ben disposed of the three bodies in the nearby woods. It was dark by the time he returned, the house smelling of disinfectant.

He threw his boots on the ground and gave you a glare as you ate a bowl of beans at the dining room table. He stormed around the kitchen, narrowing his eyes at the pot on the stove and the empty bowl on the counter beside it.

“Beans? I’ve had fucking paste shoved down my gob for weeks and you make me fucking beans?” You finished off your dinner, leaning back in your seat with crossed arms. He puffed out his chest, pointing a finger. “Don’t you fucking start, bitch.”

“Does it make you feel like more of a man to yell at me? Maybe you even want to hit me. Fucking go for it. We both know I can take it.” You got up, getting in his face and throwing him off guard so much so he stumbled backwards. “You want me to think you’re a monster? Go ahead. Hurt me. Insult me. Prove me wrong. Show me just how awful you really are deep down and that there’s no shred of a soul left in there.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he shouted, towering over you, his face turning red.

“Do it!” He growled, grabbing your arms, picking you straight off the ground.

“Look at me!” You were ready to kick him in the nuts when you noticed the red on his face was…bright. Too bright. Infected bright.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll help you alright.” You put your hand to his face, Ben instantly dropping you, both of you falling to the ground. This felt different than before. There was no sharp pain from the redness your hand absorbed from his face. No, it was warmer, a slow burning sensation that built up and up and had you gritting your teeth.

He gasped and choked before rolling away, your body falling back on the hardwoods. You panted, staring at the wood beams crossing the ceiling when Ben crawled over, staring down.

“I got some of their blood on me earlier when I killed that guy. I think it got on my face,” he breathed out. You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. “It must act slower that way?”

“Depends. Am I a weak, pathetic bitch?” you said, Ben lowering his head. “Good. See, we’re all good.”

“You didn’t scream this time at least,” he said, helping you sit up against the cabinets. He sat back against the fridge behind him, both of you catching your breath. “Why?”

“The more a particular…injury happens to me, the recovery period from the pain shortens. You didn’t have the streaks in you fully or else you’d be dead so it wasn’t as bad this time.” He shook his head, running a hand through his brown strands. “What?”

“Your powers suck.”

“Not powers,” you sighed, Ben pursing his lips. “I swear. I’ve never taken compound V in my life.”

“Well then you must be a natural born supe. Is Reaper your dad or some shit?”

“No,” you snapped. Ben held up his hands, giving you just enough of a pout to make you feel bad. He got up and scooped some beans into a bowl, glancing at you once. The floor creaked, your eyes drifting up to watch him settle down across from you, slurping up his dinner. “Why are you eating on the floor?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman,” he said with his mouth full and a roll of his eyes. “Can I eat my dinner where the fuck I want to?”

“Of course you can.” He made a face, pointing his spoon at you when you parted your lips.

“I swear to God if the next words out of your mouth are to argue with me, you will not like the outcome,” he barked. You swallowed down your comment about how the chair and table would be more comfortable. If he wanted to sit his ass on the hard floor, fine, that was on him.

You closed your eyes and tucked your knees up to your chest, lowering your head to rest it against them.

“You’re a pretty good liar. Most women are but you put them all to shame.” You frowned, lifting your head wearily. He stood, setting his empty bowl on the counter before squatting down right in front of you. Long fingers grasped your chin, turning your head left, then right. “Your jaw is clenched so hard you could snap a tree in half.”

“Fine. It hurts whenever I absorb that red matter stuff from you. There’s nothing either one of us can do about it so why does it matter if you know?” His grip on your chin tightened, just hard enough to make you wonder if he was considering killing you.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that.” Ben’s grip loosened, his thumb wiping away the wetness that’d gathered under your eye.

“Like what?” you whispered, intense green eyes boring straight through to your core. He leaned in closer, his breath hot.

“Like I’m going to hurt you.”

“This was a mistake. Just cover yourself up when you go out and you should be okay,” you said. You got to your feet and barely made it out of the kitchen when his hand landed on your shoulder, freezing you in place. “Forget about Reaper. You’re free Ben. Just live your life how you want to.”

“Why the hell are you trying to get out of here so badly all of a sudden?”

You closed your eyes, clenching your fist when a wave of burning heat flooded your veins. “Why do you care if I stay?”

“I can drown.” You turned around, furrowing your brow. Ben raised his chin, nodding once. “I nearly did as a kid, out in that lake.”

You both looked out to the dark water, gazes slowly drifting back to one another. He sat down on the edge of the couch arm, running a hand through his hair. He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, head shaking as he glanced at a knot of wood in the floor near your feet.

“My father took me out in a rowboat to the middle of the lake when I was a boy. Maybe seven, eight? He threw me over the edge, told me to start swimming.” His eyes met yours, his smile faltering. “It wasn’t until I started to sink did he pluck me out. He was so…disappointed in me the whole way back to the dock. I was convinced he’d throw me out any second. I never told my mother what happened but somehow she knew. It was the only time I ever saw her argue back against him. She ended up showing me how to swim over the next week right where it’s shallow at the shore edge.”

“Why are you telling me this Ben?” you asked quietly. He shrugged.

“You can either be terrified that something more powerful than you will kill you and that fear makes you run from it. Or…you can be a man and face it, tell that thing it’s not more powerful. You learn to respect each other’s power and work together.”

“A lake doesn’t snap your neck in your sleep when it gets mad at you,” you whispered. He sighed, his jaw clenching slightly. “You just…you’re so mean to me that I couldn’t even tell you were infected until you were literally ready to pummel me and I saw the red streaks. Ben, I didn’t know you wouldn’t hurt me. I read the CIA’s file on you and god, you’ve hurt so many people Ben. People you supposedly cared about, loved even. How the hell am I not supposed to be terrified of you? Maybe I was wrong and we should just go our separate ways.”

You headed down the hall, pausing when you heard him walk up behind you.

“If you stay…I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“It’s the end of the world, Ben. Forget about Reaper. What could you possibly give me that’d make me okay with staying with you?” You glanced over your shoulder, Ben’s face strangely soft.

“My word.” He held out his hand, fighting back a frown when you narrowed your eyes at it. “I’m fucking trying here.”

“Not good enough.” You stormed into the bedroom, grabbing a duffel from the ground as he huffed. You started to shove some things inside when he cleared his throat.

“Please stay.” You poked your head out in the hallway, Ben gritting his teeth.

“Did you say please?” you asked. He rolled his eyes. You stepped back out, crossing your arms. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

“Good-”

“If you drop the Solider Boy shit and act like Ben. Act like the kind of man you wished your father had been to your mother.” His face went white in shock, Ben’s jaw dropping open slightly. “See? That normal guy is still inside of you. You know it’s wrong to be a dickhead. You fucking know it’s wrong and you do it anyway. But you have to stop. You have to be better. Not perfect, just better. Or else I’m gone Ben and this world gets a lot harder for both of us.”

“I…will try if tell me one real thing about yourself, why you don’t die.” He stood his ground, lips pressed into a thin line. You looked away, leaning against the door jam.

“You know how…you know when you did the Compound V trials and all the other participants died except for you?” He nodded once, tilting his head. “That was because your genes are advantageous. Your genes could handle that…evolutionary leap.”

“Like a Punnet square.” You raised your eyebrows. “I’m not a moron.”

“Well, yes, sort of like that. Your gene mixture basically was special. My genes are also…special.” You frowned, Ben’s fingers reaching out to graze your cheek. Your eyes wandered up to meet his, his green eyes curious, guarded. You crossed your arms, looking past him. “My genes, eventually, would have allowed future generations from my bloodline to be natural supes. Millions of years down the line. It’s incredibly rare. Think of it like if your genes and mine were in a race, I’m starting a hundred million miles ahead of yours and we’re racing to the same point.”

“You would get there faster,” he said quietly. You nodded.

“Reaper found out about my genes. He ended up, activating those special parts of my genes and transfused me with his blood when he did so. He didn’t know what would happen but it gave me the ability to not die, like him. It was all an experiment to him.”

“How’d he do that? Activate them?”

“Through eight years of torture.” Ben stared at you, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “Everything was forced on me, all because of my stupid fucking genes. Do you finally understand why I saved you?”

Ben nodded, letting you slip into your bedroom. You lay back on the old mattress, body in desperate need of sleep and rest. By the time you managed to get out of your jeans and under the covers, the door was cracking open. Ben was carrying something, a mug. Steam billowed from it as he set it down on the nightstand. Then he was leaving, nearly pulling the door shut behind him when he stopped.

“There are things I would say to you if I wouldn’t be a pussy for saying them.”

“Ben?” He looked over his shoulder, catching your smile as you sat up and took a sip of the hot tea. “That’s good enough for tonight. Thank you for the tea.”

He nodded, hesitating once more. “Drink that and then go the fuck to sleep. You look awful.”

“Goodnight to you too.” He grumbled and pulled the door shut, leaving it open a sliver to let in some light from the hall. You heard movement outside and heard a chair scrape along the wood floor. With you mug in hand, you tiptoed over, opening the door.

Ben was sat in a chair right outside your room, frowning when he saw you. “I thought I told you to sleep.”

“What are you doing?” He rolled his eyes.

“Just go to the fuck to sleep. We need to get a game plan together in the morning and you won’t be able to do that if you’re a zombie. Go before I make you.”

You took a sip of tea, offering him a tiny smile. “Try to get some sleep yourself at some point. It was a long day.”

“Y/N…” he warned. You took a big swig of tea and handed him the mug, Ben cautiously taking it.

“I think I’m starting to get you, Ben. You’re an acts of service kind of guy.” He stared at you like you had three heads and shook his own. “I’ll explain someday.”

“Alright, that’s it,” he stood, watching you scurry back to your bedroom. You plopped into bed, Ben pointing a finger at you before sitting back down. You tugged up the covers, putting your back to him as a wave of exhaustion hit you.

You were just barely holding onto consciousness when something heavy draped over your body in the cool room.

“She would have liked you,” he mumbled. You burrowed into your sheets, letting sleep overtake you.

That was until four am.

That’s when you woke up to screaming.

___________

A/N: Part 4 coming soon!

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys fanfic #soldier boy au #the boys au #apocalypse au #soldier boy fanfic #jensen ackles #reader insert

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julesthequirky · 1 year ago

Text

The Choice

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Reader x Dean, Reader x Beau Arlen, Reader x Soldier Boy, OC mother, antique salesman

Warnings: (Warnings will be updated when chapters are released) Language, typical SB behaviour, smut, asshole mom.

W/C: 20,944 (so far)

A/N: All spicy chapters will be symbolised with a chilli pepper.

The Choice now has a Spotify playlist, which will be linked here.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven 🌶️

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen 🌶️

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waynes-multiverse · 8 months ago

Text

Plastic Hearts – Part 25

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, a tinge of angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: I'm not sad... 🥲 Honestly, I don't have words beyond gratitude and cliché goodbyes, so let's end this journey together 🤍

<< 24 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

25. Dare

“Ugh, I can’t believe you convinced everyone to come out here,” Jo groans and raises her flat palm to her brows, shielding her eyes from the scalding desert sun. “What the fuck is wrong with Palm Springs, huh?”

“C’mon, we’ve always wanted to go to Joshua Tree together since we moved to LA. This is like the perfect time,” Y/N argues cheerfully and nudges her friend with her elbow. “Look! It’s so peaceful.”

“There’s a dead carcass over there. Looks like a symbol of my marriage,” Jo deadpans.

Y/N purses her lips before compelling another positive smile to her face. “We can get rid of that. The girls really needed this after the whole Crowley debacle.”

The group left straight after the network meeting in Dean’s office this morning, which didn’t go as planned, to say the least. While several executives were surely interested, Crowley and H-ELLTV put an abrupt end to it. Apparently, they sold their fucking souls by signing a contract with the devil. Crowley’s words still rang in her ears on repeat.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, ladies, but H-ELLTV owns your characters, which means you can’t sell them to another network. You all signed a contract and made a deal. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, fucking asshole…” Jo huffs her agreement but then throws her friend a suspicious sideways look. “What’s up with you, though? Why are you so chipper and cheerful like a fucking Disney princess? I thought you of all people would be fucking depressed and devastated about the stupid show ending.”

Y/N shrugs. “I am. I’m just trying to make the best of our last weekend together. Can’t I be happy?”

“Fuck no.” Jo shakes her head. “Something’s up with you. Usually, when you’re like this, it’s overcompensation ‘cause you’ve fucked something up. If I were still married, I’d think you’ve fucked my husband all over again. So, what did you do?”

Y/N shrugs once more and keeps her eyes trained on the sprawling desert landscape in front of her. “Nothing.”

“Dean also was a bigger asshole than usual this morning. So, I’m asking again, what shit did you fuck up now?”

“Nothing, okay? Dean’s always an asshole,” Y/N deflects defensively. Although, even she has to admit – those were some spectacularly icy green eyes this morning. Not that he ever looked directly at her or spoke with her even once. She probably would’ve turned to stone if he did.

“Fine, don’t tell. God knows I don’t fucking care,” Jo says indifferently and joins the other women as they set up their tents on the campground.

Y/N lets out a small sigh as she stares at the bluest sky she’s ever seen while the hot desert sun beams down on her. She watches the girls for a while, her heart slightly cracking at the thought this might be the last time they all hang out together. This year has been the best one she’s ever had.

But then, her heart stings even more when she thinks about the one person who isn’t here, wondering what he’s doing right now. If anything, she owes it all to him.

Dean nurses his beer with a sigh, his green eyes barely paying attention to the half-naked girl who’s winding herself up and down a silver pole in front of him. This used to bring him joy – day-drinking at a strip club and watching tits bounce. But now all he thinks about is how that girl looks nothing like Y/N. None of them do.

“Hey, son. Startin’ early today,” Bobby notes with a chuckle as he sits down next to him.

“Yeah, they canceled the show.” And while that’s certainly true, it’s not the reason why Dean’s sulking at a titty bar.

“Too damn bad. I loved the show!” Bobby tells him enthusiastically. “It was insane. Good insane. It had everything – comedy, drama, heartache, tits, violence, a fucking wedding? There’s something for everyone there.”

“Well, uh, thanks, Bobby. Really appreciate it,” Dean tells him politely. He likes the guy, but he’s not in the mood for chitchat. He’s barely in the mood for naked women, for crying out loud. This is a deep fucking depression.

There are only two promises he’s made to himself: One, he won’t slump like he did after his last divorce. There will be no excessive drinking, which leads to excessively pathetic crying, which leads to a myriad of bad choices out of sheer desperation. Remember that awful dating videotape he made? Yes, there will be no more of that. And then there’s of course two, no drugs – no matter how much he tells himself he wants or fucking needs them. A tiny dot of hope seems to be still dormant in his plastic heart, reminding him that she might come back, and he doesn’t want to risk disappointing her once she does.

Dean has worked fucking hard to be the best version he can be – a version she doesn’t seem to give a shit about. But even he has to admit: He likes himself a lot better now, so he refuses to turn back to old comforts, albeit it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

“You guys interested in doing a floor show?”

Bobby’s words pull him from his reverie. Dean arches a brow at him, straightening a bit in his seat. “What? Here?”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “No, idjit. My wife Ellen has some stakes in a club on the Vegas Strip. She manages the hotel there, too. They’re looking for a new headliner. Just do the exact same show, night after night, 300 miles east. Vegas is where the money is. Headliners make at least 25 grand a week. You think that gym is big? We have to fill 1,100 seats.”

Dean stumps and blinks at the old man a bit baffled. “Well, uh… I’ll think about it. Talk to my partner, the girls…”

Bobby smiles and pats his shoulder as he gets up. “You do that. I’ll call you tomorrow. Now, how about a lap dance? On the house. Can pick any girl that fancies your heartache. You ain’t foolin’ an old man like me.”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks. Think I’m gonna head home and drink myself into a coma there.”

“It’s getting dark soon. How much longer?” Jo’s brown eyes dart to Y/N as she drags her feet over a rocky path. The sun stings less than it did when they started their little hike, but her skin feels perfectly tanned by now and the water is running low.

“Uh, I think it’s supposed to be just up ahead that hill,” Y/N muses and swirls her head around the formation of rocks that all look the same, squinting her eyes into the distance.

Jo sighs, and her stare intensifies. “You’ve been saying that for over an hour. Are we lost?”

“Noooo…” Y/N doesn’t sound convincing and surely doesn’t fool Jo with her reply.

“Alright, gimme the map.”

“I don’t have the map. I gave it to Meg.”

Jo groans and rolls her eyes, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

“What? Meg’s the trail leader. Trail leader gets the map,” Y/N defends her faux pas with reason.

“Great! So we’re fucking lost in the desert,” the blonde huffs.

Y/N chuckles lightly, mostly out of uncomfortableness and panic she tries to hide behind it. “No, there’s a trail marker right over there,” she says, pointing to a pile of rocks. “That looks manmade.”

Jo quirks her brow. “You mean like that pile of rocks? Or that one over there?”

Y/N follows her friend’s gaze, only to realize that there are lots of piles of rock that all look too fucking similar. She purses her lips and scratches her head before resting her arms on her squared-off hips. “I think we’re lost.”

“Yeah.” With an exhaustive sigh, Jo plops down on another pile of rocks and watches as the orange sun dips behind the horizon, shadows of blue slowly crawling across the desert floor and swallowing the light.

Y/N clumsily lowers herself down next to the blonde. Her leg hurts like a bitch, and the desert sand that has wound its way into her cast itches a good deal. Her hands and arms hurt as well from clinging to her crutches all afternoon. Maybe Dean was right, and this was a bad idea, after all. Why does he always have to be fucking right about everything? How can one person be so annoying and frustrating all at once?

“Well, you finally get your wish,” Jo deadpans. “We’re gonna die together.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N says ruefully and looks at the first stars appearing in the night sky. “Maybe the stars will guide us home.”

Jo just looks at her, unamused and unsurprised. “You’ve never been camping, have you?”

Y/N twitches her shoulders apologetically. “It was only supposed to be a three-mile moderate beginner’s trail to a beautiful vista. It’s what the guidebook said.”

Jo shakes her head and blows a raspberry, hugging her knees. “Joanna Wesson, 27, found dead near a random cluster of rocks that might have looked like a trail marker. She was best known for playing Beth Crowne on the soap opera Paradise Bay before trying to revive her career on an unsuccessful wrestling show. She is survived by her son, Sammy, and her bitter ex-husband Sam with his secretary Jessica.”

“Well, at least you get an obituary,” Y/N quips. “Mine would just read: Soap Star Found Dead Next to Unidentified Woman in National Park.”

Jo even snorts at that. “Well, I’m sure Dean would cut and edit an adorable video tribute with a bunch of B-roll about you at your funeral.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Y/N pensively licks her lips, her heart doing those painful twinges again whenever she thinks of him. “You know yet what you’re gonna do next?”

“No, I-… I think I wanna produce,” Jo announces with determination in her hazel eyes. “I don’t wanna ask permission. I’m so tired of it all. For once, I wanna boss people around and tell ‘em what to do. You know, you were right.”

Baffled, Y/N raises a brow. “About what?”

“Men,” Jo says simply and then spits with fire, “I fucking hate them all. The Crowleys and the Dicks and the Cases and the Sams and the Deans… They make the choices. They dictate the terms… I’m sick of it all. I just hate asking them for anything.”

“Dean’s not so bad,” Y/N says quietly but doesn’t look at Jo. Her heart stings for the millionth time. “I got that role for the Sondheim musical. They called this morning.”

Jo’s lips curve into a soft smile that reaches her eyes. “Congrats. I’m not surprised. You were really fucking good.”

Y/N’s heart flutters a little at the compliment. Tears begin to sting her eyes. She can’t remember the last time Jo was nice to her. “Thank you.”

“You don’t seem happy about it,” Jo notes attentively.

“No, I am,” Y/N manages to choke out, but the sniffling betrays her intentions.

“But?”

Y/N bobs her head, swallowing. “I think I’m ready to talk about it now.”

“Fucking finally,” Jo huffs and rubs her cold and goosebump-littered arms as the heat disappears, the nightly air bringing a fresh breeze.

“Dean told me he loves me,” Y/N confesses. “He’s in love with me.”

“Yeah, no shit. Kinda obvious,” Jo says without a twitch of surprise. “Don’t feel bad for not loving him back. That’s what they want… For us to feel bad about every single fucking thing.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think that’s how I feel,” Y/N replies and lets out a jittery sigh.

Jo’s head turns to her, eyeing her friend up and down. “And how do we feel about that? I can’t tell. It’s too dark to see your face.”

“I-, uh, I don’t exactly know,” Y/N says, which is partially true. She might know how she feels about the green-eyed director, but not how she feels about the situation overall.

Jo purses her lips and nods. “Alright, here’s a couple of options: happy, excited, scared, or… repulsed?”

“Well, uhm… scared,” Y/N admits slowly and gulps. “And excited… happy.”

Jo throws her arms up, shaking her head at the stars. “Jesus fuck! Then what the fuck are we doing here?! Is that why you dragged me all the way to the fucking desert? Because you’re running from your feelings?”

“Kinda. I thought the peaceful quiet and beautiful nature would bring me some much-needed clarity,” Y/N explains.

Jo lifts a brow but tries not to seem too annoyed. She’s accustomed to her friend’s theatrics, after all. “And? Did it?”

“The hike didn’t, but facing death kinda does,” Y/N jokes and begins to laugh a little, Jo soon joining her. When their laughter dies down and the desert sounds of chirping crickets and screeching eagles remain, Y/N exhales a shaky breath. “I’m in love with him, too. He makes me really fucking happy. But… I finally feel like I’m on the right track with my career. I am where I’m supposed to be, you know? I don’t wanna throw that away for a guy.”

“Who says you should?”

“I don’t know… Isn’t that how it goes? You did it,” Y/N argues.

Jo licks her lips and clicks her tongue. “Yeah, ‘cause I chose the wrong fucking guy. Sam made me give up everything I ever loved and told me what to love instead. If you pick the right guy, he won’t make you do that.”

“How do I know it’s the right guy, though?”

Jo smiles softly. “Look, I’m not Dean’s biggest fan, but he’s yours. You know that, right? He’d never hold you back. He adores the ground you walk on. Yes, he’s an asshole with so many fucking issues, and he’s goddamn annoying most of the time, but he’s always had your back, even when he pretended that he didn’t. The guy would probably sell every limb and his fucking soul to see you get everything you ever wanted, Y/N. He wouldn’t be a mistake. You know what would be a mistake? Not trying because you’re too scared of making one. Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Thoughtfully, Y/N nods in agreement and grabs her crutches, rising from her rocky seat. “I need to see him. We have to head back to the city.”

“Finally! Thank fucking God.” With a grunt, Jo jumps to her feet and helps Y/N to steady hers. “Maybe the girls made a fire bright enough, so we can find our way back.”

“Shit.”

“What? They have matches, don’t they? I’m sure these bitches can manage a simple fire, right?” Jo then notices Y/N’s hand curling around her bicep, her grip tightening. And then, Jo glances in the direction of Y/N’s eyes and sees the same damn thing. Her brown eyes widen.

“Mountain lion.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” the blonde hisses and holds on to her friend as well. Both women freeze on the spot. “What-, uh, what should we do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should throw a stick?”

“A stick?” Jo arches her brow. The big cat snarls and stalks a little closer, making the two women jump back. Their hearts are thumping in their throats at this point. “It’s not a fucking dog, Y/N. It won’t play fetch with you.”

“I know that. How about you come up with a better idea, then?” Y/N snaps through gritted teeth. The lion hisses again, causing the women to tremble down to their bones and hug each other tighter. “I think I should jump it.”

“Are you nuts? No!”

“Look, while it eats me, you can flee. I can’t run with my cast anyways. This is the best option,” Y/N insists, but Jo vehemently shakes her head.

“Fuck no! You’re not sacrificing yourself. We die together. You’re not leaving me behind,” Jo maintains. “I always knew my death would be your fault. Don’t ask me how, but I knew you’d get me killed somehow.”

The wild cat takes another step forward and lowers to the ground as if to get ready to jump its prey – them. But then a few tumbling rocks and breaking twigs draw its attention behind the women. Is there an even bigger cat here?

And suddenly, Meg leaps forward from above them with a loud howl and snarls at the cat, which hastily tucks its tail between its legs and flees down the hill into the dark night. Y/N and Jo expel a big breath of relief and a shaky laugh as they find Meg.

“Meg, what the fuck? Did you just scare away a mountain lion?” Y/N gapes at her friend in utter disbelief.

Meg only shrugs her shoulders. “I hate cats. What are you guys doing out here so long?”

“We got lost. Couldn’t find our way back to camp,” Y/N explains.

Meg furrows her brow and thumbs behind her. “It’s just over there. You guys have been hiking around the same hill for five hours.”

Jo shoots Y/N a small glare of annoyance and blows some loose strands of blonde hair out of her face. “Of course we did…” she mutters.

“We have to get back to LA!” Y/N declares eagerly, trying to climb the small rocky hill with her crutches, foregoing the more suitable pathway.

“Right now? It’s probably 3am when we get to Burbank. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?” Jo says as she attempts to climb after her friend.

“No! I almost died! Twice… Dean needs to know how I feel before I get bit by a rattlesnake, too,” Y/N reiterates passionately.

“It’s probably for the best,” Meg chimes in. “We kinda forgot to pack food. I was about to hunt something for us when I ran into you guys. We have tons of drugs and booze, though.”

Y/N’s knuckles thunder persistently on Dean’s door and conjure up a storm. She has jumped out of Ruby’s limo so fast, the girls are still scrambling out and flooding Dean’s front lawn one by one. They’re loud and obnoxious, but the ringing in her ears makes their chatter barely noticeable.

The lock clicks and the door opens. Dean stands in front of her with weary green eyes, heavy with sleep, tousled bed-head, and a furiously scrunched brow. He half yawns and half grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Once he feels clearer, minus the soft buzz of whiskey remnants in his bloodstream, he blinks at the young actress in front of him and then tilts his head at the circus show behind her.

God, between his punk rock daughter and this, his neighbors must really hate him.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you guys supposed to be camping in fucking Joshua Tree?” His voice is a gravelly bark. He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, especially when he just woke from a dream about her, but he’s not as masochistic as he used to be. He’s not a fan of torturing himself with the image of her any longer.

Y/N’s heart somersaults as soon as she sees him, even though his apprehension hurts a bit. “Look, I almost died tonight. We got lost in the desert and then a mountain lion almost fucking ate us.”

Dean licks his lips, nodding. “Yeah, I’m not fucking surprised. Told you Palm Springs is the better option. So, did anyone fucking die? What’s the head count?”

“No one died.”

“Huh. Then why the fuck are you here in the middle of the night, Y/N?” Dean bites, his brow creasing in anger. He can’t even fucking look at her for a second without his heart being on the brink of an explosion. Even saying her goddamn name hurts like needle pricks in an abused vein.

“I–” Y/N swallows thickly. Her drumming heart is stuck in her airway along with her words.

“She’s here to tell you she loves you!” Ruby hollers behind her before several girls tackle her and clasp her mouth shut.

Dean’s heart twists upon the sick joke, his frown deepening. But then he glances at Y/N and thinks he can spot the truth in her eyes. He thought that once before, though, and was terribly wrong.

Y/N gives a shrug of one shoulder with tears brimming in her eyes. A small smile forms on her lips. “What she said.”

Dean nods and drags a hand over his freckled face, feeling the tears well in his eyes, too. Fucking whiskey. Always renders him goddamn sentimental. “Look, uhm, you kinda gotta tell me this yourself. Otherwise, I won’t believe it, okay?”

Upon his request, Y/N takes a deep breath and looks him into his eyes. “I’m in fucking love with you.” As soon as the words are out, she starts crying and the tears fall down her cheeks. Meanwhile, Dean’s heart tumbles into free fall, and he’s sure not even a parachute can stop it. “I’ve never said that to anyone in my life. Is-, is it too late?”

Dean snorts and shakes his head, grinning brighter than the California sun on the longest day of the year. “Fuck no. Even if it had taken you thirty years, I still would’ve taken you back. That’s kinda how once-in-a-lifetime love works, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Sounds like a good movie,” Y/N jokes between her tears, her fingers tingling to touch him.

“Yeah, best one there is.”

His hands grab hold of her and pull her into his embrace. He claims her lips, Y/N eagerly parting her mouth as his tongue slips between. The kiss is rushed and fervent and perfectly desperate. They’re both so gone they can’t even hear the girls cheering and applauding them in the background.

“You’re gonna come inside?” Dean asks in a murmur against her lips, barely letting her breath.

“Uhm…”

“Hey, Lothario, you got space for us, too?” Cassie shouts with a wide smirk.

“Yeah, we’re fucking starving,” Ruby adds with an impatiently arched brow.

“We, uh, forgot to pack food,” Y/N explains with a chuckle.

Dean sighs and smiles knowingly. “Of course you did.” He then turns to the women waiting on his lawn. “Alright, get in. I’ll order some pizzas.”

The women then proceed to brush past the couple and filter into Dean’s house. Missouri pinches his cheeks, Ruby pats his head, Cassie fist-bumps him and sends Y/N a flirty wink, Meg tousles his hair, Charlie shrugs apologetically, and Jo offers an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m never gonna get rid of them, am I?” Dean looks down at her and tightens his jaw, even when a grin is visible.

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s like you’ve adopted twelve strays. One of which actually turned out to be your long-lost puppy. They’re gonna be here until you die and then eat your corpse,” Y/N quips.

“Funny.” Dean clicks his tongue, his dimples itching to form a grin.

“Oooo! Let’s call the guys!” he hears Ruby exclaim from inside his living room. “It’s a fucking wrap party at the boss’ house!”

“No! No party! Guys, c’mon!” Dean storms inside after them, leaving Y/N giggling on his doorstep.

“Let’s call Garth, Kevin, and Benny!” Donna suggests, ignoring his protests. It’s like they can’t fucking hear him.

“I’ll call my husband, too!” Bela adds and eagerly dials Cas’ number on his landline.

“Oh, right, Cas…” Dean mutters with an eye roll as he remembers the impromptu wedding. “No fucking Benny!”

Y/N joins his side and rubs his back in comfort as he watches his house sink into female doom. “You okay?”

The deep trenches in his brow flatten into soft valleys as his green eyes lock on her. He dips his head and pulls her to his lips, kissing her slow and reverently. “Better.” He smirks. “Just gonna have to sage the whole house tomorrow.”

That earns him a playful slap on his chest. He laughs and pulls her closer with an arm around her waist.

“Hey, uh, speaking of party…” Dean mumbles before he addresses the whole room, grabbing their attention with an authoritative clear of his throat. He’s still got it. “You guys wanna do shows in Vegas?”

“What?!”

Dean’s eyes find Y/N’s gaping face. He chuckles a little. “Yeah, uh, Bobby offered me a deal. There’s nothing in the network contract about live shows. I already went over it with Cas this afternoon. It pays well, too. You guys interested? It’s not like any of you have actual jobs lined up, right?”

Y/N closes her mouth. “I got that Sondheim musical in San Diego. It’s a workshop production, but if it goes well, it could go all the way to Broadway. I could end up in New York.”

“Good,” Dean says and smirks. “You’re fucking fired.”

“WHAT?!” Y/N’s mouth falls open again. “You said you’d never fire me!”

“Yeah, well, this is for your own good,” Dean reasons. “You think I’m gonna let you quit Sondheim for some stupid wrestling show in Vegas? You gotta be fucking nuts! This is what you fucking wanted. Don’t make me kick your stupid ass onto that stage. It’s gonna look embarrassing for you again…”

Y/N bites her lips to conceal her grin. Her eyes meet Jo’s, who mouths ‘I told you so’ at her. “Thank you,” she tells Dean and kisses his cheek. He furrows his brow at her in suspicion. “But rehearsals don’t start until June. Still gonna need a job till then.”

“Oh.” Dean’s brow shoots up in realization. “The June in nine months?”

“Yeah, the June in nine months,” Y/N confirms with a laugh.

“Whoops. Well, consider yourself rehired till June, then,” Dean relents.

“So, if I ever have to work in New York–”

“Then we’ll go to New York. Big fucking whoop-dee-doo. You know I hate LA.”

Y/N giggles, nodding. “What would you do in New York?”

“Same I do here, just on a little balcony instead of a backyard. I sit with my typewriter by a table and smoke and drink,” Dean retorts. “I’ve actually been working on a new script. I’m moving away from horror and into Western.”

“Got inspired by the motel’s wallpaper, huh?” Y/N teases. “What’s it about?”

“Father-daughter storyline. Thought I’d give that a shot…”

1990, 5 years later…

“Dean! We’re gonna be late!” Y/N reminds him and holds the blindfold in place over her eyes as he drags her somewhere by the hand. Her heels can barely keep up with his fast pace. “You know, check-in at LAX is the worst. Our flight departs in two hours. I’m nominated, Dean! I can’t reschedule! The girls are all flying in, too…”

“I know! I’m fucking hurrying, okay?” Dean assures. However, she can hear the stress and tension in his gravelly voice. He then suddenly halts and positions her into place by her shoulders before carefully taking off the blindfold. “Alright, here we are.”

Y/N blinks her eyes open and recognizes blurry shapes of purple and gold. She lifts an eyebrow as ornaments on the walls and a big stage come into view as well. “The Aztec porno theater?”

“Mayan,” Dean corrects her and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he gets down in front of her on one knee and tries to fumble out the too-big ring box from his too-tiny suit jacket pocket. “Son of a bitch!”

“Dean, wait!” Y/N stops his endeavor with raised palms, her eyebrows meeting her hairline when she realizes what he’s about to do.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N!” Dean frowns in frustration and rises to his feet with a huff and a shaking head. “I know you’re against marriage and the patriarchy and all that bullshit, but c’mon… We’ve been dating for five years. We have a good thing going, right?”

After spending a whole year in beautiful Las Vegas – the Paris of Nevada – the two of them moved to New York. Dean sold his house in Burbank and opted for a Brooklyn apartment instead. Claire also studied film at NYU before she graduated last Spring. But every few months, the couple finds themselves back in LA – for interviews, for business, for friends.

“Dean–”

“No! You know me. I’d make a great fucking husband. You love it when I make reporters laugh on the red carpet. I’m an awesome trophy husband, okay?”

“DEAN!”

“WHAT?!”

Why the fuck is she angry now? He should be the one that’s angry. She’s turning down the best opportunity of her life. She should consider herself lucky he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He even had an amazing speech prepared to knock her right off her feet, but does he get to say it now? How he wanted to grow fucking old together and support each other? How he wanted to marry her all those years ago when she told him she was pregnant? Nope...

“I’m fucking pregnant!”

Dean blinks at her in confusion before his eyes begin to wander around the familiar theater. Did he take something? Drink too much? Did he actually travel through time or is this a weird fever dream on his deathbed?

“What’s it with you and this theater? And why do you always yell that?”

“Because you never listen.” Y/N giggles and bites her lower lip. “And I’ll gladly marry you if that’s what you were going for. I just figured I’d tell you before in case you wanna change your mind and bail.”

“Why the fuck would I bail?” Dean’s brows knit together, close to offense.

She shrugs and holds up her palms in surrender. “I don’t know! I didn’t want you to feel trapped.”

“Why? Isn’t it mine?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, a grin twitching on her pink lips as she slaps his arm. “Yes, of course it’s yours.”

“And you’re keeping it? You sure?” Dean throws her a quizzical look.

Her brow furrows. “Why, you aren’t?”

“No, I am!” he assures her swiftly, realizing how it sounded. “Hell yeah, I want another kid! You know I always wanted to make up for missing out on Claire so much! I finally get to change a diaper, go to the park, or the fucking zoo while my wife works… It’ll be so fun!”

Y/N tries to stifle her laugh. He seems happy, judging by the joyful glint in his green eyes. They resemble sparkling emeralds.

“But are you sure, y' know?” Dean checks with a deep look into her eyes. “I mean, I do what I can to support you and keep the thing alive in your absence, but you know you’re still gonna be benched for a couple of months, right? I’m not a fucking seahorse.”

Y/N laughs a little at that. “I know. I’m fine with sitting on the bench for a little while. I’m kinda exhausted. I did two Broadway musicals almost back to back, three off-Broadway shows, all the workshops and the rehearsals and Matinees and the dancing and the singing… Not to mention I’m nominated for a fucking Tony tonight,” she says and is close to out of breath by the time she finishes her list of accomplishments.

“Which you’re gonna win,” Dean reassures her persistently. He’s been telling her since the nominations were announced (and even before that when he first saw her in the role on the first night).

“We’ll see,” she brushes him off, although her blushed cheeks betray her words. In her heart, she hopes so as well. “Anyways, I could use the break,” she admits and takes his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers. She places a loving kiss on his lips. “Right time, right guy, right baby,” she says, smiling.

Dean squeezes her hand happily and pulls her to his lips for a searing kiss. “So, where did we land on that whole marriage thing?”

“See? You’re never listening,” she teases, laughing. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Under one condition…”

Dean smirks. “I've had the same exact thought – Vegas. It’s perfect!”

“What, no! I don’t wanna get married in filthy Vegas, you dork!” Y/N frowns playfully, shaking her head. “I wanna get married in Nebraska. I want my dad to marry us."

Dean’s brow creases. He chuckles in amusement. “What, like a shotgun wedding? Could be fun… Pastor marries pregnant daughter to older man. Is this gonna make headlines in the townie paper?”

Y/N snorts, shaking her head at him. “No, it’s a shotgun wedding. It’s very common,” she deadpans.

“I’ve never met your parents,” Dean realizes then. “Why have I never met your parents? It’s weird they never come visit you,” he ponders.

“Oh no, they do,” Y/N tells him, pursing her lips as she twirls her hair around her finger. “They’ve seen me both in Into The Woods and Gypsy.”

“Really, when?” Dean narrows his eyes at her.

“Whenever you were in LA, visiting Claire,” Y/N admits ruefully. She never told them she was dating the director, not sure if they’d approve – not that she gives a shit, but she wanted to spare herself all the sermons and the exploring of the Sunday school dating pool. Whenever they asked who owned the men’s clothes in her apartment, she lied and said she had a gay-but-in-the-closet roommate. “But you can meet them now,” she promises with a reassuring smile on her lips. Thank God she’s an excellent, Tony-nominated actress. “I’m sure they learn to love you just like I did.”

“Learn to?”

“I love you.” Y/N smiles mischievously and shuts up any further comments by kissing him.

Dean grins and relents with a blissful sigh. “I love you, too.”

THE END 🌅

Thank you all so much for reading and making me laugh with your comments and screams throughout! 🤍

Are we done with these two for good? Probably not. I've left gaps and doors open on purpose, so I'm sure they'll make an appearance again at some point in the future 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70

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godmadeaterribleerror · 5 months ago

Text

No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You Chapter 30 - Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh 🚩 Chapter 31 - I'd Do It All Again ❤️‍🔥

More Than You Could Ever Know - A No Love Lost Christmas Special

Part 1 - The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. ❤️‍🔥 Part 2 - Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Part 3 - 12/24

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - Request! Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Takes place 5ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes places in Chapter 28.❤️‍🔥 I Want You Only - You and Ben go shopping. Takes place in Chapter 28 ❤️‍🔥 I’ll Hold Your Hand - Request! You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Takes place post series.

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delusional-fantasising · 3 months ago

Text

I Do Love You (Soldier Boy x GN reader)

Summary: Reader tells him 'I love you' and he gets overwhelmed and shuts off.

Warnings: Soldier Boy kinda being an asshole/biggot, angst no happy ending, trauma, sexual undertone at one moment, slight misogyny, self hatred and emotional shut off

Word Count: 1176 words

The night was young, Soldier Boy had agreed dating you during his time with your team, The Boys. But one thing was obvious, under his brave and dominant bravado he was scared of loving ever again. He didn’t want another betrayal, another heart break, it just wouldn’t let him sleep to the idea of ever loving again. He was terrified of the thought that you, the one person he had slowly began to trust without any benefits could love him.

Every woman’s words rang out in his ears whenever you smiled at him;

“They don’t and they never have. The woman are either humouring you or they’re scared of you. But none of them like you.”

“I didn’t love you, I hated you. We all did.”

Soldier Boy was sitting near you with an arms reach of you, sure there was a part that did somewhat loved you but another part of him was sabotaging himself, ‘They don’t love you. They are afraid of you.’

He wasn’t looking in your direction, he was watching a documentary with you about all the years he missed. It was hard for him to watch to learn everything that changed and forced to change so fast. He had slowly gotten used to the race change not that he had too big of an issue, sorta. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around the gender roles, he found it absurd that men were no longer expected too much to have an income but more rather be expected to be emotionally available, talk things out when things get hard, respect boundaries, and empathy.

“Phht back in my day I never had to do that, women where at home and I would give them pleasure and necessities,” He scoffed as he listened to the feminist rallies that happened. You almost choked on your drink when he mentioned the whole pleasure thing, it was no joke and there was rumours from past lovers of his that his only green flag was that he was the one to go for pleasure.

“Soldier Boy, you can’t be saying that!” You laughed with very much flushed cheeks, he rolled his eyes at you telling him what to do. He wasn’t a big fan of being bossed around, he had to be in control not someone else. But then you say something that made him freeze, his hands gripping the couch arm till his knuckles went white.

“You are so lucky I love you enough to let that slide for now but you seriously got to get with the times. Women don’t want just pleasure, they want emotional connection.”

I love you…

Love.

Soldier Boy just looks away without responding to what you said initially, he was focusing on what his therapist says whenever he feels like he’s going to have a PTSD episode. (The boys forced him to go)

Breath in for four seconds

Hold it in for four seconds

Exhale for four seconds

Hold it in for four seconds

Repeat

Once he felt himself mostly calmed down he just gave a rude snarky response, his tone sarcastic, “Love. That’s a pretty big word, isn’t it? Especially for someone who barely knows me.”

“What? C’mon we have been dating for a month, you have told me some deep stuff. I just want to express some of my love for you,” You chuckled sounding confused at his sarcastic outburst but not taking it to heart since you knew that he sometimes does this to cope. You didn’t know you hit a trigger since the only one you knew about was nothing Russian around him especially the song ‘Escape’ as it triggered one of his worst episodes of exploding. Soldier Boy snapped at you and laughs with a mocking gesture as he waves his hand, “Oh so I opened up a few times and now you know me. This is crap and everyone now and days just throw that around with no meaning. I’m not some person who you can google and get all the real information about me, you don’t know anything about me besides what I want you to know.”

The bitter tone, the sharp cold glare as you could tell he was closing himself off emotionally off from you again. Trying to get distance to avoid a pain you never wish to bestow him.

“Benjamin, I want to know you then. I can’t do this if you just shut me out, I want you to feel safe around me. I really do love you,” You begin, bringing his real legal name to show how serious this conversation was. To show honesty to him and not some fake love that he has gotten in the past by a certain woman.

“Save it, I heard it all well too many times before, ‘I love you, Benjamin.’ Then follows is a knife to my back after you kick me down,” Soldier Boy spat the look of hurt in his eyes and his lip quivered slightly as he wasn’t ready for hearing someone say that to him ever again. “Benjamin I’m not Crimson Countess, I’m not going to hurt you like she did.”

“You can’t promise anything, no one can. Love is just a word, a filthy fucking lie people tell themselves to make them feel better. It doesn’t and will never mean anything to me!” He spat getting up from the couch to pace angrily not looking you in the eye anymore. His eyes getting watery at the thought of going back in the box.

The box

THAT FUCKING BOX

“That’s not true. Love means everything to me and Ben I mean it when I say I love you. Every little imperfection, even when you can being a raging asshole and slightly biggoted you have been changing for the better and I’m proud of you for it.”

Proud, he stopped in his tracks. His trembling hands at his sides turning into fists. He felt his walls of defense cracking at how much he wanted to believe your words but he just ended up muttering, “I used to believe that but love’s just a precursor to disappointment, it’s something to avoid the harsh reality of the real world… I don’t want to lead you on to disappointment”

He was avoiding being vulnerable but it was hard keeping everything bottled up. A tear was slowly building up threatening to spill, his muscles tensing up. Maybe a joke or another witty comment to brush off the stupid feelings. The feelings that made him weak.

“Ben, you won’t disappoint me.”

“Shut up. Just shut up,” Soldier Boy grumbled trying not to set off any alarms with you since he wasn’t facing you, he didn’t want you to see him cry, see him weak.

He isn’t in control

His feelings were going rampant.

You got up, sensing those tears practically going up to him softly cupping his face to make him face you. There was so much emotional turmoil brewing underneath the cold hard wall he placed up. He was scared.

Scared of you.

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deans-queen · 3 months ago

Text

You Belong With Me (Dean’s Version)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x You

Summary: POV - Dean sees you walking down the street with your new boyfriend and doesn’t like what he sees 🥺 ( this was a request that I was tagged in by @jackles010378 )

Warnings: language, spicy moments, jealousy , angst, possessiveness, emotional vulnerability, mentions of toxic relationship.

Pre Authors Note: BTW I needed to use this gif because it just does something to me like 🥵😩😭 I’m so down bad for this man it’s ridiculous — anyways happy reading!! 🫶🏻

Dean’s POV

I leaned against the Impala, arms crossed, sunglasses low on my nose as I watched you walk down the street, hand in hand with him. Some preppy guy, clean-shaven, all smiles, like he didn’t have a care in the world. My gut twisted the second I saw you laughing at something he said.

Damn, that laugh. That smile. It used to be mine.

You looked happy, but I knew better. There was something off, something I couldn’t put my finger on, and it gnawed at me. He wasn’t right for you, not by a long shot. Maybe it was the way he touched you—too casual, too cocky—or the fact that he didn’t even notice when your smile faltered.

I took a long drag from my beer, eyes still locked on you. When you passed by, our gazes met. Yours lingered on me for just a second too long before you quickly looked away. Yeah, you felt it too. That pull. That spark that had never really gone away, no matter how much you tried to hide it.

A week later, I saw you again, sitting on a park bench, alone this time. The sky was overcast, like it was about to rain, but you didn’t seem to care. I noticed the way your shoulders shook, the soft sobs you tried to stifle. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t stand it.

I slid onto the bench next to you, silent for a moment before speaking. “Hey.”

You looked up, your tear-streaked face breaking me. “Dean…”

“Where’s he?” I asked, not even bothering to hide the bitterness in my voice.

You shook your head, wiping your cheeks. “We broke up.”

My heart surged with something I didn’t want to name, but my fists clenched as you kept talking.

“He was an asshole. Treated me like… like I didn’t even matter half the time.” Your voice cracked, and I could see how much it hurt to admit that. “I should’ve known.”

“I knew,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

Your head snapped up, eyes widening. “What?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I could tell. The way he looked at you, the way he acted… He didn’t deserve you.”

You blinked, processing my words, and then something shifted. There was this tension hanging between us, thick and electric, the kind you couldn’t ignore. I reached out, cupping your cheek gently, my thumb brushing away a tear.

“I would never treat you like that,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “You know that, right?”

Your breath hitched, eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, the whole world fell away. It was just us—just you and me—and the way your lips parted, your gaze flicking down to my mouth, told me everything I needed to know.

I leaned in slowly, giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you met me halfway, your lips soft, warm, and perfect against mine. The second we kissed, everything else vanished. All the frustration, the jealousy, the anger—I poured it all into that kiss, into the way I pulled you closer, needing to feel you against me.

You whimpered into my mouth, fingers threading through my hair, and God, that sound—made me lose it. My hand slid to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, and when you pressed your body into mine, I could barely keep it together.

I pulled back slightly, resting my forehead against yours, breath heavy. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Your lips curved into a shaky smile, but there was still that uncertainty in your eyes. “Dean… I don’t want to just be a rebound.”

I shook my head. “You think this is a rebound? Babe, I’ve been wanting you for years. This… this is way past that.”

You bit your lip, that little hint of doubt fading as I kissed you again, harder this time. You moaned softly, and I couldn’t help myself.

“You deserve better,” I growled against your lips, my hands roaming your sides. “You deserve someone who’ll treat you like the goddamn queen you are.”

Your breath was ragged, fingers clutching at my jacket as I nipped at your lower lip. “And you think that’s you?”

“I know it’s me.” My voice was dark, low, the kind that made your whole body shudder. “You belong with me, sweetheart. No one else is gonna give you what you need.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes heavy-lidded as you stared at me. “Show me.”

And hell, did I ever.

A few days had passed since that kiss, but it was all I could think about. You had to know you were driving me crazy—every time we crossed paths, there was that look in your eyes, like you wanted more but weren’t sure if you should ask for it.

I was about to give you more than you ever expected.

We met again that night, under the same damn streetlight where I first saw you with him. Only this time, it was just us, no distractions.

“You look like you’ve got something to say,” you teased, leaning back against the hood of the Impala, your eyes gleaming under the dim light.

I took a step closer, then another, until I was right in front of you, crowding your space. “I do.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t move, didn’t back down. “Yeah? What’s that?”

I ran a finger down your arm, watching the way your skin prickled beneath my touch. “That I’m done pretending. I want you, Y/N. I’ve wanted you for a long damn time.”

Your lips parted, but before you could say anything, I grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against me. The kiss that followed wasn’t soft like the first one—it was hard, desperate, and filled with everything I’d been holding back for too damn long.

You gasped into my mouth as my hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips, your waist, everything I could reach. You melted against me, your fingers curling into my shirt as I deepened the kiss, my teeth grazing your lower lip before I tugged it, just hard enough to make you whimper.

“Dean,” you whispered, breathless, and that was all it took for me to lose control. I lifted you onto the hood of the Impala, pushing between your thighs as you wrapped your legs around me, pulling me closer.

“Damn, sweetheart,” I growled against your neck, trailing rough kisses along your skin. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You tilted your head back, giving me more access as I pressed open-mouthed kisses along your throat. “Then show me, Dean. I’m yours.”

And I did. Every single inch of you. Every kiss, every touch, every moan—it all belonged to me now.

Author’s Note

Hope you enjoyed this story! Thank you @jackles010378 for this suggestion, I def loved writing it! Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

Want to read more? Check out my other stories!

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