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daylighted · 2 months ago

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dean winchester x angel!reader — kissing lessons.

or, the defenses are down, the blockades shattered, and you dont know how to kiss. or, let dean help you.

cw, 18+, MDNI! dean talks you through it for real this time. backseat sex LOL. fluffy smut? lowkey subby dean hehehe. no protection yell @ them not me.

word count: 5.6k

notes, dean gets to be his full freak self here hehehe. everyone say ur welcome since i've been being HOUNDED SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIMEMEEEEMEEEE TO POST THIS. unfortunately for all of u this is the planned conclusion to their tale </3 don't crucify me. u legally can't since i'm giving u this.

★ ˚⋆

things were... a little awkward, after you saved dean's life with a kiss. like passion drove you over the edge, a desperate need to save him and to do it any way possible, that was the only time that you managed to kiss him right.

and he didn't — well, he kind of judged you for it. just little laughs, when you'd lean in to try and kiss him and end up flushing and sinking backwards. it was cute. sure, it did mean he wasn't getting any action anytime soon, and every bedtime kiss you promised him ended up becoming a bedtime smack for him laughing at your struggle, but hey, you guys just had a different dynamic.

he still thought you were the prettiest thing to ever grace earth. just because you didn't know how to kiss properly didn't mean he was going to suddenly stop being interested. it just opened doors to getting to teach you.

sam stayed back at the motel while dean volunteered to go on a drink run. it was one of those nights; a roundabout case that the both of them knew was going to keep them up looking for the slightest detail in the research that could alter their investigation for the better. sam needed a beer, dean wanted a beer, and you wanted whiskey.

literally. girl of his dreams, he'd thought. still thinks.

plus, you love car rides. dean had not let you back behind the wheel since the last time, and you didn't seem to want to try again either, more than content to sit and look pretty in the seat next to him.

the nearest liquor tour in whatever small town you guys were camping out in for the night was a good few miles away, and so he got to play all of his cards in one fell swoop. hand on your thigh, fingers trailing up the seams of your jeans, tracing with his nail on the inside of your palm.

you were squirming. he loved when you squirmed.

his fingers are just at the inside of your thigh, long enough to have gently walked their way over like they owned the place ( he did, you didn't know it yet ) and rest easily. that is the moment you speak up, those narrowed eyes locked on his in a glare.

"stop that."

dean's eyebrows flick up. he spares a single glance toward you, the picture of innocence written into the marrow of his sinful bones. "stop what?"

"you're touching me."

he hums to himself for a moment, eyes turned toward the stoplight he'd rolled up to. "could be touching you more."

"no."

dean huffs out a laugh. "are you scared of my hands, dove?" even as he says it, his hand moves again, to the safety of your thigh. "you know they'd never hurt you."

your eyes roll furiously. you grab his wrist and practically throw his hand onto the gearstick. "your hands are not sentient beings and cannot make that choice for you."

dean's gotten really receptive to you, over these past few weeks. what your expressions meant in the rare times that you didn't voice your confusion, what your body language said, and so now he's confident that he knows what you're feeling right now. your hands are clenched tightly in your lap, purposely not touching him, fisted so tightly that they shake a little. your eyes are facing forward without budging, even though he knows that his gaze is burning into the side of your face.

the stoplight illuminates your face in a green glow. "it's a green light," you say without turning to look at him, and that pretty much confirms it for dean. you're afraid. afraid, embarrassed, and not wanting to tell him any of it. "so go."

dean's jaw clenches as he restrains a frown behind the cage of his teeth. the absolute last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you had to hide away from him, keeping every one of those thoughts locked away in your inexperienced, curious head.

the car rolls into drive again, passing the parking lot for the liquor store. he sees it out of the corner of his eye; the way your head cocks to the side, your lip between your teeth while you try to figure out what he was doing. you could ask. he wanted you to ask. whatever was eating at you was keeping all of his pretty girl's first thoughts from him.

he pulls off on the side of the road and cuts the engine, leaving the both of you in darkness except for the moonlight pouring in through the windshield.

dean nods toward the backseat. "hop on back there, sweet girl," he says with a sigh, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the driver's seat. you don't move. he props himself in the doorway with an unmoved expression. "c'mon. it's late. don't wanna have to tell you twice."

the way your face twists up in annoyance is exactly what he wanted to see. good. anything but that weariness that had marred your features. he slips into the backseat, shuts the door behind him, before your door opens.

seconds later, you're dropping into the seat next to dean. he turns on the leather to face you better, his hand coming up to brush the hair out of your face. "you know you can talk to me, right? i act like an ass all the time, i know, but you don't have to lock yourself away."

your face goes pink at his words. that angry twitch of your nose makes an appearance, and it's all dean can do not to break into a wider grin. knowing that something so delicate could also be so wicked was an enticing thought all in itself.

"it's embarrassing."

"so what?" his lips twist as his shoulders raise in a shrug. "who's gonna judge you? me? be serious, dove."

your nose twitches again, mouth in a tight scowl. "you would definitely judge me."

"that's how i know you're feelin' all insecure up there," dean says, tapping your temple with his finger, "because you know that's not true. i know that's not true."

you growl, actually growl, and dean wants nothing more than to grab you by the hand and tug your mouth onto his. even if you don't kiss him back, he wants to kiss you. your furious frustration was a common occurrence around him, but that didn't mean it got any less attractive.

"when you touch me," you grit out through your clenched teeth, your hands fisted in your lap like you might hit him. hell, he'd have taken the punch right then, if it kept you talking. "i feel things."

dean blinks twice in quick succession. "and?" you do hit him square in the shoulder. your hands carry much more of a punch than he could have predicted. he lets out a little oof, his lips pursing with his lack of amusement. "it's a serious question!"

"i can't say." you look adamant, your frustration so pretty on your features, and dean's a bit dazed. "it's embarrassing," you repeat, and dean gets it. or, he thinks he does.

one corner of his mouth quirks again, his cheek dimpling. the hand on your face falls to your thighs again, fingers lightly dancing on the inner seam of your jeans. "here?"

your hand raises to punch him again, and he knows he's right; catches it just in time before you can bruise that spot on his shoulder. "well, i can't leave you feelin' all hot and bothered, can i?"

"i am not hot," you scoff out almost in disgust at the suggestion, and dean does laugh, then. you were so hot it was ridiculous, but alright. "but i am very bothered."

"lucky for you," dean murmurs, his hand releasing your wrist and moving to your jaw, turning your head to look at him again, "i am very good at handlin' bothered girls." he leans in, brushes his lips against yours. "angels, i should say."

dean can feel you retreating already at the slight touch of his lips, but now he knows that it's not because you don't want to kiss him, or don't want what he's offering. you're afraid of it like the feelings will bite you, nervous to feel the full extent of it. his fingers hold your jaw more firmly.

"now, i'm not gonna ask," he says, driven further by the soft sound of your breath catching, "since you're feeling a little trigger happy right now... but i think it's time my little dove has herself some kissing lessons."

to his surprise, you don't hit him again. you just stare into his eyes with such earnest honesty that it's his turn to lose his breath. you trusted him so much. he wanted to show you just how much it meant to him; let you watch as he cradled your heart in his hands.

the distance closes in a second between your mouths, the brush of his slow and languid against yours, judging your reactions. your kiss is hesitant, and then suddenly you're pressing further into him, the force of it almost bruising when you don't move your lips. he pulls back enough to look into your eyes.

dean's finger comes up to pinch your lips closed, smiling softly as he does. "don't have to try n' bite my face off, honey, i promise," he chides without any malice in his words, taking advantage of the gentle grasp he had on your lips to lean in again. he kisses you slowly again, deliberate in the way his mouth moves, so you could figure it out.

your fingers uncurl in your lap and move to his shirt, twisting the soft cotton lightly. that's when he releases your lips, his hand shifting to cup your cheek in his palm. dean's thumb traces reassuringly on your cheekbone.

when your mouth opens this time, it's less like you're trying to sink your teeth into him and more like an invitation. dean knew you were a quick learner; had from the moment he'd let you behind baby's wheel. seeing it action like this, with your hands in his shirt and your tongue swiping across his, was on another level.

his free hand reaches for your hands one at a time, his touch on your wrist light as he lifts your fingers to his hair. he has to force his mouth away from yours, has to pull away from the taste of your tongue. "i know how much you wanna yank my hair out," dean teases, letting go of your hand to let you take over, "so go ahead n' pull, baby."

you look between his eyes again with that same open look, and he's sure he's melting right there into the leather backseat. "really?"

dean laughs. "yeah, really." he leans in to nuzzle his nose against yours. "matter of fact, touch anywhere you want, baby. this is all for you. so y'can get outta that head of yours."

something flashes in your eyes at that. he doesn't know what it was - the offer or the idea - that caught your attention, but he's intrigued, too. one of your hand drops from his hair to his shirt again, this time at the waist of it.

he's a little dazed, admittedly, as you untuck it from being bunched up in the waist of his jeans. it's intense to have your eyes on him while you pull his shirt up until it catches on his extended arms.

"took the first chance y'could to get me naked, huh?" dean asks, even as his voice comes out more strained than it'd been before, his jeans suddenly feeling just as tight.

you use your elbow to nudge his arms up, and he raises his hands in defense at your sudden act of authority before he lifts them. then, you've got his shirt off, tossing it behind your back. "shut up."

"there's my girl," he murmurs, hooking his finger in your belt loop and tugging you closer. maybe he was moving too fast. maybe he knew you'd adapt quickly.

and you do. he never doubted you for a second. your hand rests on his cheek, guiding him back into a kiss, more confidently than any of your kisses had been so far. your fingers tangle in his hair, and dean has to physically bite back on the groan in his throat.

he takes advantage of his hold on your jeans to start unfastening them. you're so good for him, a perfect match, because you don't even know what you're doing but your hips are lifting so he can start pulling them down.

dean breaks the kiss with a pop of your mouths, and the growl you let out goes straight to the hardening cock trapped in his jeans. he doesn't want to move so fast, but you've always been a little cruel like this, tempting him in ways that he should have been stronger to resist. there was no resistance now.

he hooks his arm under your legs to turn you in the seat, draping them across his lap. he unties your boots for you, pulling them off and setting them on the floor of the backseat. then, he's grabbing the bunched denim on your thighs and tugging until they're off. dean has more care with your clothes than you did with his. he'd always treat everything about you as gently as glass, setting them on the middle console between the front seats.

you look at him for a second, like you're trying to gauge the situation you've both found yourselves in. pulled over on the side of the road like teenagers that couldn't wait, stripping each other naked in the backseat. it'd be laughable if you didn't look so vulnerable. for the second time that night, dean realized how big the trust you had in him was, and he didn't want to do a thing to mess it up.

"lemme get this off of you, yeah?" he asks, his hands moving to the bottom of your shirt. he meets your gaze for confirmation; gets a single nod. "it means a lot, y'know," he continues on, trying to keep you out of the black hole that was your worries, as he pulls your shirt up and over your head, "that you're trusting me with this. all of it."

"don't start," you whine, your hands moving to your eyes, covering your face. dean grabs your wrists and pulls them apart, moving your arms out of the way so he could properly see you. "hey!"

dean's lips pull into a small smile. "hi."

"this is a lot," you say, and his smile softens considerably, "i don't know what to do now."

dean lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "whatever you wanna do. this is all you, baby, i'm just here to provide." he rests his large palm on your kneecap, the pad of his thumb rubbing soothingly against your skin. "we can stop. you can kiss me again, or punch me again, if that's what you want. we can get dressed again, get what we actually came for..."

"no." you blink a few times before you shake your head. "i don't want to stop, i..."

dean's not a patient man. he's used to time limits and counting his days. but in this backseat with you, he's certain time has stopped just for the both of you. he feels the world at his disposal, like every bit of time existed like pieces of sand in his palms.

when you realize he is, for once, not going to interrupt you, and not try and put thoughts in place of your feelings, you huff. "i do not know what to do from here."

dean grabs for one of your discarded hands, holding your fingers in his lap. "do you want us to be on equal ground?" he asks, nodding down at himself. you were in nothing but undergarments; he still had his jeans on. "and then we can figure it out from there?"

your smile is beautiful in its hesitance. "okay."

"okay like you want my pants off, or okay like you'd just feel better if we were both freezin' our asses off back here?" dean teases, even as he shifts a little in the cramped space to start taking off his jeans.

your huff is practically a wordless grumble in itself. "why do you want me to spell things out?"

"i want you comfortable, dove," he says, the waistband of his jeans paused at his thighs, "there's no pressure here at all. if there's pressure, then it's not fun anymore."

you think on it for a second. dean watches your expression shift with your feelings and acceptance. "you may continue."

"oh, mama's bossy now, is she?"

you grab a handful of the leg of his jeans and yank. "shut up."

"yes, ma'am."

you wad up his discarded jeans and toss them at him in a ball of denim. "shut up."

"you're so pretty when you're mad, honey," dean mumbles, using his grip on your hand to tug you forward. you stumble a little in the small space, falling into his lap. "come n' make me shut up."

your eyes are narrowed on him as you shift to make yourself comfortable. your leg tosses over his thighs, settling into his lap. his breath hitches in his throat at the feel of your heat through both of the thin undergarments on you, and from the look in your eyes, the evidence of his own arousal has made itself prominent against you, too.

you look like you might say something. you don't. your hands grab him by his face and drag him in for another kiss. he actually chokes on a noise in his throat at the suddenness, and he thinks he might love you. knows he does, but has never felt the intensity of it quite like this before.

dean's mouth opens to let you in, craving the taste of you again. your tongue meets his instantly, lapping against each other's in a languid slow dance. he's content like this. he could stop here, and go back to the motel with or without the alcohol and use this memory here of your tongue in his mouth while you sat all pretty in his lap to get himself off, and be perfectly fine.

but if there was one thing that you were full of, it was surprises. his little whiskey drinking, praise adoring, bossy angel. your fingers fall between the both of your bodies and rest on his hard on through his boxers, and dean looses a shuddering breath.

you pull away from his mouth with his saliva on your lips. dean's head falls back onto the headrest of the backseat with a groan. "you told me i could touch," you say, your innocent voice so out of place with your devilish hands.

"i did," dean says, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone. "didn't expect you to go for the gold immediately, though."

your answering smile is the prettiest thing he's ever seen. the moon sits high in the sky outside of the window, glowing and whitecast down onto you.

a halo of your own making.

dean thinks he's going to die.

you raise your hips off of him for the time being, your light touch teasing and electric at once. dean grasps that hand and lifts it to his mouth, kissing each of your fingertips. "here," he says quietly, his other hand going to your waist. he traces over your ribcage lightly before he closes his fingers over your side.

he pulls you closer, lets you grind against the swell in his boxers. he groans, your breath hitches with a little whine, and he's sure, then, that he'll die like this.

"you like that?" dean asks you, dipping his head to get a better look at your eyes. you look dazed, a little drunk, and dean wants to see those pretty eyes glimmer and glisten.

he lifts you up again by your thigh, just enough to slide his boxers off of him as gently as he can. the space is cramped, and it's finally starting to feel like it.

dean's done this plenty of times, but there's something about your gaze that makes him feel more vulnerable than he ever has before. he's naked underneath you; you, who has never done anything like this before, and he feels more exposed than you seem to.

it's like a game, now. when he does something, you do it, like you don't want to fall behind in this back and forth. your hips stay up, and it's more awkward for you to tug your panties off, but you manage it with a few lifts of your legs, and a kick that sends them, somehow, into the driver's seat.

you laugh. it's breathtaking.

dean helps you settle back on his thighs, and it's all he can do to not fall apart there. you're warm, you're wet enough that he feels it on his legs, and all he wants to do is make you feel even better than you do now.

"green light?" dean asks, lifting his eyes to look at you again, and not at all of the skin bared to him. he doesn't want to overwhelm you with how intense he must be staring at you, but you're mesmerizing. perfection in the form of a wingless angel sat on his lap.

you blink a couple of times before the realization settles in. "go?"

"i'm askin' you, dove," he says in answer, hand going to the back of your neck to pull you closer, to press a kiss to your forehead. "red light or green light?"

your face is so close to his, but dean can see the melted expression in your eyes. instead of answering, you press a kiss to his mouth again. he's glad you like it, now that you know how to do it. he could handle kissing you over and over, but your lips kissing him back is something he was already getting addicted to.

on his mouth, you whisper, "green light."

dean blinks, now. his teeth drag your bottom lip back lightly until it pops back into place. "yeah?"

at your nod, he sits up a little better, his arms snaking around your waist. once he's got a good grip on you, he moves the both of you so that he's sprawled beneath you in the backseat, fully extended. he doesn't fit, his legs bent a little as his back presses into the door, but it's fine. everything is fine when he has you. plus, his bent knees only draws you closer to him.

"i promise this is the last time i'm gonna do this to you," he says with a teasing lilt to his voice, lifting you off of his thighs again. "just say red light if it's too much, okay?"

"okay."

it's more gentle than he's ever been, the way he spreads your legs open a little more, the way he lines the aching length of his cock up with your waiting entrance. just the brush of the tip against the wetness of your folds could make him crumble.

dean pushes up enough to just barely rest inside of you, giving you the moment to adjust. your gasp is small, breathless. he stops instantly, his hand on your thigh loosening its grip. your face twists into a frown. "i didn't say red light," you grumble through the pout, and he's always been a sucker for that little pout, as much as he is for when you sink your teeth into the puffy lip.

his laugh is warm, free hand raising in surrender again. "sorry, baby, jus' lookin' out for you."

you start to sink down further on him yourself with nothing but his hand in guidance. your eyes are wide, your lips parted in a soundless 'o', but you don't tell him to stop, and he trusts you enough to know that you would, if you needed it. he couldn't helicopter monitor you just because he was afraid of breaking the pretty thing he'd grown so attached to.

it's a tight fit, being inside of you. he can feel every bit of your walls expanding to fit him, and he tries not to groan, tries to not get too ahead of himself, but goddamn. months of fantasizing about this, of denying himself those same fantasies out of fear of ruining the trust you were building between each other, comes nowhere near the reality of how it feels to have you in his arms.

your head drops to press against his, and dean's unable to resist the way he leans up to peck a kiss to your mouth. a quick one, light and easy, that you take as a sign to deepen. your teeth scrape his lip, your tongue explores the expanse of his mouth, and dean takes this distraction from the discomfort he knew you were feeling to push the rest of the way inside of you.

you whine on his lips, and he kisses away the little noises. "i know," dean mumbles on your mouth, "it's okay."

the red light is unspoken, but he's not about to push you, or overstep anyways. you trace shapes with your fingertips on his bare chest, worrying at your bottom lip with your teeth.

"green light," you say after a few moments, and a few more soft kisses from him in the crook of your shoulder.

dean nods, leaving a last lingering kiss on your collarbone before he shifts enough to properly start to move inside of you. the thrusts are shallow and gentle, letting you get a feel for it, letting you adjust to his size.

your forehead drops to rest on his shoulder, each little whimper twisting at his heart, even if the sounds of them were beginning to get louder and less strained.

"feelin' better?" he asks, all of the strain from your voice stolen and bottled up in his. the way that you squeeze around him has all of his rational thought fogging, and it takes a conscious effort to be gentle with you. this wasn't about dean; it was about you.

you nod once, your hair tickling at his chest. he's about to keep up the slow pace, to keep going as gently as possible, until you sit up a little straighter and start to meet each of his thrusts with a grind of your hips. dean's head knocks against the passenger window, his breath leaving his mouth in a shudder.

you must like it, too, because you let out a breathless laugh. you grab his hands and hold his fingers between yours, letting them fall to rest on his stomach. it's that game again; you doing something to keep up with what he's doing.

dean grins as he watches you, the tight expression on your face melding into something a little more wild and free. he's never seen you like this. he'd take a picture if he wasn't absolutely certain that you and him were gonna do this again.

again, he moves your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles this time, his groan reverberating through your fingers. you match him so easily, like you were made for whatever he gave to you. your increasing confidence makes him feel comfortable enough to speed up, his other arm braced on the back of the seats for stability as he rolls his hips deeper into you.

your head tips backwards with the first real moan he's ever heard out of you. your reckless abandon is utterly disarming. he sits up straighter, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist, holding you pressed against him as he buries himself inside of you.

your hands tremble as they lock onto his face, holding it to be nose to nose with him. you're panting on his mouth, and he can't stop staring at your lips, and he's so deep inside of you that he can feel the tip against your cervix, deep enough to make a rough groan slip out of his throat.

there was no need for kissing lessons. you would have figured it out on your own, dean's sure of it, with how you tilt his head back to suck his top lip between yours, tongue languid against his.

it's embarrassing how close he is to coming already. how couldn't he? he was enamored, transfixed, and getting this little taste of you was intoxicating. your fingers move from his cheeks to his jaw, clawing at his lip, tugging the bottom one down as you ride him.

he lets you. he'd let you do anything.

dean's thumb finds it's way between your legs, slipping between your slick folds to rub gentle circles into your clit. your thighs clench around his, grinding your hips down further onto his, against his hand.

his head tilts up to capture your mouth again, wanting to taste each moan that you let out, to swallow your pleasure and keep it to himself, where no one else can ever see it. each of those shuddering moans gets louder, more frantic, and he knows you're close.

"dean," you whisper into his mouth, and dean wants to hear his name said like this every time from you, now. breathless, desperate, and as needy as he felt.

he thumbs more deliberately at the swollen nub, pressing a final kiss to your mouth before he works little hot kisses down your jaw, your neck. "dean, i--"

"it's okay," his voice is as rough as gravel. "that's how it's supposed to feel." he knows your head like his own, knows from the frenzied breath into his shoulder that you're going to come, and that it must be a little much, trying to live through those feelings and try to figure them out. "it's supposed to, okay? jus' let go, i've got you."

dean would always have you. he loved you too much to let go.

that thought is what breaks his resolve. his thrusts become more sloppy, harder than he should probably be with you, but he loves you, and it's ruining him to not show it, or tell you. the car is thick with hot air, the windows are foggy, his skin is sticking to the leather seats, but he loves you.

you come apart on top of him with the moonlight still bathing you in a halo's glow. your hips still, your fingers claw at his face, scratching red marks into his stubble, and you cry out a moan against his lips.

he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. his hips stutter to a stop inside of you, a gasping groan punctuating his pants into the column of your throat, his cock twitching inside of you as his cum fills you. he'd worry about that later. or maybe he wouldn't. he didn't care about anything in the world besides how much he loves you.

dean doesn't realize he's whispering it out loud until he registers that pretty laugh of yours.

your hair is stuck to your forehead, your skin glassy with sweat in the pale moonlight, and the halo of the moon still hangs above your head. you're the most divine thing he's ever seen, the closest to divinity he's ever let himself be.

"you love me?" you ask, your eyes so sweet and so warm as they watch him.

dean leans up to kiss each corner of your mouth. "where'd you get that impression?"

he can never tell when you'll be matter-of-fact or when you'll play around. he forgets sometimes all of the things he's taught you, every bad idea you've got wedged in your mind because of his influence. dean winchester never wanted to corrupt you or your innocence, but he knew he'd always end up pulling you into the dark with him. you were stuck together, after all, now that he'd embedded himself to you for saving his life.

"i had a hunch." your head tilts up pridefully, chin jutted out. the act is cute while it lasts but falls apart instantly when you start to laugh again. dean's never heard you laugh so much since you'd met. how'd he get so lucky?

the car ride back to the motel is peaceful, the frigid air conditioning blasting to try and clear the fog from the windows and cool the sweat on your skin. the entire time, dean's hand is on your thigh, and the entire time, you don't move it. the moon follows his angel out the window the entire drive, like it knows, too, that you were as divine as beings could be.

sam calls two miles from the motel. "everything okay?" he asks, genuine concern in his voice. "it's been at least an hour. i didn't think you could get lost on a beer trip in this town."

beer. liquor store. alcohol run. it all comes back to dean now that his head is a little more clear.

"oh," is all dean can say for a few seconds, gaze flickering over to you in the passenger seat. you pick at the threads on his jacket he'd given to you, head downturned to unsuccessfully hide your laugh, "got sidetracked. we'll be back in twenty or so."

it was sam's turn to be silent. his following laugh is more like a scoff than anything else. "jesus christ, dean."

"blame dove," dean cackles into the speaker, eyes fond as he glances over at you again. he makes a (definitely illegal) u-turn at the same stoplight that acted as the tipping point for the night's event back in the direction of the liquor store. "she's the one who needed taught how to kiss."

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4jackles @deanswidow @deansbite @whisperingwillowxox @bombarda-babe @whyyouegg @loverslantern @bitchykittenconnoisseur @jensenacklesantidote @keira-kaz2y5 @sthefferrete @depressionbarbie2023 @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @bleuatlas @minettacreekk @moonstruksandco @moodyquesadilla @severe-mental-illness @cevansbaby-dove @deansbeer @bluestrd @mccartneyqp @im-bili @chevroletdean @angelblqde @lyarr24 @psyches-reid @momoewn @globetrotter28 @starzify @jackleslvr @ryngzmn @aileenunfiltered @beausling @frosttbitessam @amberlthomas

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cowboysandcigarettes · 2 months ago

Text

oh so close

after a tough case, you and dean both need some stress relief. luckily, you have each other.

cw, smut! oral (f!receiving), praise kink, needy!dean, kind of softdom!dean, dirty talk, unprotected p in v (wrap it before u tap it folks), slight overstimulation, (sorry if i missed anything else!)

note, this had taken me literally so long to write because i cringe at every other line, but oh well. anyways, here is my first smut - any feedback would be appreciated!

but now, but now somehow

my words roll off my tongue right onto your lips.

lips. teeth. dean.

those are the only words going through your head as dean's hands squeeze your hips, tugging you closer to him with one swift movement, his mouth never leaving yours.

the hunt had been rough, and you knew that you both needed some stress relief, feeling the need buzz beneath your skin.

you knew dean felt the same way, you could hear it in his gruff tone when he told sam goodnight, not uttering another word as he pulled you into your shared motel room. you could see it as his darkened eyes bored into yours when he shut the door, swiftly locking it behind him. you could feel it when he grabbed you, crashing his lips to yours harshly. but like hell were you complaining.

you moan as dean nips at your bottom lip, groaning against your mouth, his hands winding into your hair tightly. you feel him kick off his boots, and take the hint to do the same, keeping your mouth locked with his. your own hands creep up over his strong shoulders, nails digging into the smooth skin at the base of his neck for a moment before slipping up to tangle in his hair. you gasp into his mouth as dean's hands suddenly come up to your shirt, tangling in the hem of it before ripping it harshly over your head, the display of strength making your knees weak.

with one last suck of your tongue, he pulls away from your mouth, trailing his lips across your cheek, along your jaw and down to your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin of your pulse point. the sharp sting makes you gasp, your head dizzy from the blurry line of pain and pleasure.

"sorry, baby, y'just feel so good," dean mumbles into your neck, soothing his bite with a swipe of his tongue that coaxes a needy moan from your throat. "fuck, need you, sweetheart, need you s'bad."

"dean," you whimper breathlessly, head spinning as his lips continue their onslaught of your neck. "please-"

"yeah, yeah, i gotch'a.." he mutters, sucking below the corner of your jaw before bending down, tapping the back of your thigh. taking the hint, you wrap your arms around his neck before hoisting yourself up. dean catches you easily, his arms going under your thighs and big hands splayed over your ass.

as soon as your legs are secured tightly around his waist, dean starts walking you over to the bed, lips still working incessantly at your skin. as the feeling of pure need boiling in your blood becomes too much, your hands slip down to grab dean's face, pulling him back up to your mouth.

dean groans into the messy kiss, his hands squeezing your ass before unceremoniously dropping you on the bed. you land with a gasp, pushing yourself up on your elbows as he stands above you, tearing off his flannel and t shirt, tossing it behind him. tilting your head up to look at him again, your heart stutters at the sight above you.

dean is towering over you, his shoulders tensed, hands in tight fists and jaw clenched, but oh, his eyes. his piercing emerald eyes were looking down at you like he wanted to devour you.

you both stay still for a moment, just taking each other in, the only sound in the room being your labored breaths as you just stared at one another. dean breaks the moment suddenly, practically pouncing on you with a sound that almost sounds like a growl.

perfectly chapped lips crash onto yours as calloused hands latch onto your waist, caressing your skin in gentle movements that counter the rough attack on your mouth. you moan into his mouth, body arching up into him on instinct, your hands wrapping around him and grasping at the hard muscles of his shoulders.

weak pleas of his name are swallowed by his wanting mouth, your words not reaching him as he loses himself in you like he so desperately needs to. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, almost as if to distract you as his hand snakes up from your waist under the arch of your back, his fingers expertly unclasping your bra.

finally accepting he needs air and wanting to see your bare skin for himself, dean pulls away from your lips, holding himself up on his hands over you. you lay there panting under him, watching his eyes follow the movement of his hands as they pull your bra straps from your shoulders, ripping it from your body.

when his hands move down to your worn down jeans, you push yourself up onto your hands, tilting your head to attach your lips to his neck. you suck harshly at the smooth skin at his collarbone, pulling a groan from him that only fuels the flood between your legs.

"dean..." you whisper against his skin, relishing in the way his hands stutter at your waistband. your lips continue painting his neck, trying to convey what you want with your teeth and tongue.

"shh, i know, shit, i know, baby," he mutters, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment before they open again as his shaking hands undo your jeans and start to tug them down your legs. you help him by lifting your hips, one hand wrapped around his shoulder and the other one planted on the mattress to hold you up as your lips stay attached to his neck.

as soon as you kick your jeans away, dean's hands are gripping your waist, effortlessly lifting you and moving you to rest your head on the pillows. you lay back, lips parted and swollen as you pant heavily, eyes wide and needy as you watch him.

"fuck, look at you, sweetheart," dean whispers, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes rake over your nearly naked body, his gaze making you shiver. he leans over you again, breath fanning your face before he's gone again, dipping his head down to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. "my pretty girl, all laid out and needy f'me--god, how did i get so lucky, baby?"

you can only moan in response, your head dropping back onto the pillows to give him better access to your skin as your hands dive into his hair, tangling in the short, spiky strands. dean's lips burn a trail down your neck and along your collarbone and all you can think about is how much you need him. how much you crave his touch, his gaze, his attention, his everything. if he wanted you to, you would sit still for hours, never moving a muscle as he painted himself into your skin, proving to you, himself, and everybody else that you were his.

you're snapped out of your aching thoughts when dean nips at your hip bone, causing you to yelp slightly. you lift your head from the scratchy pillows, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him.

"you with me, pretty girl?" dean asks, your hips gripped in his hands where he draws soothing circles into your skin with his rough fingers. "thought y'left me there for a second."

you shake your head, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips, fingers curling into the sheets below you when dean's hungry gaze tracks the movement. "m'here, was jus' thinking for a moment," you reply, your words already sounding slurred.

"m'kay good. 'cause i wanna see those pretty eyes locked on me when i make you feel good, yeah?" he croons, hands squeezing your hips ever so slightly. you nod, a soft groan escaping your lips as you let yourself fall back onto the bed, your head resting on the coarse pillow.

dean grins at your response, lowering his gaze between your legs as his hands spread your plush thighs, the sight making him let out a groan of his own. "fuck, sweetheart, you're soaked," he breathes, almost in awe as his hands tear off your panties, making you gasp at the sudden action.

"dean- oh-" you start to protest but are cut off as dean dives between your legs, flattening his tongue and licking a long stripe up your core, making your hips cant up off the bed. "oh shit-"

"don' move," dean mumbles from between your legs, the vibrations of his voice pulling a whimper from you. as if to enunciate his point, his large forearm moves from your thigh to wrap over your hip and your stomach, pinning your hips to the bed as his mouth wrecks you.

he swirls his tongue around your sensitive bud before sucking it between his lips, making your hands fly to his hair, gripping the short strands as if it's your lifeline. he sucks again, ripping a cry from your chest, and with a nudge of his broad shoulders, he lifts your thighs around his head, one hand gripping the plush fat of one, the other still holding your hips to the bed.

"oh god, dean-" you moan breathlessly, back arching off the bed when his tongue slips down to prod at your sopping entrance, the sensation shooting sparks of pleasure up your spine. "so good, feels s'good-"

his response is a deep groan, tongue moving back up to lap at your clit like it's water in the desert. your hands tighten in his hair, desperately trying to pull him closer, needy whimpers and whines falling from your kiss-bitten lips. you try to gasp for air, but cut yourself off with a broken moan as he plunges two fingers into your heart without warning, pumping them in tandem with his tongue.

"oh fuck, dean, please-" you babble, eyes rolling back as his fingers brush that gummy spot deep inside you.

dean kept his pace up, his tongue never slowing as he pumped and scissored his fingers inside you, almost as if he was trying to unravel you from the inside. you could feel the familiar tension building in your stomach, your back arching in a weak attempt to get away from him as the pleasure became nearly blinding.

"I can't, dean, I can't, shit, feels t'good-" you whimper, gritting your teeth and tossing your head back as you feel yourself get closer and closer to the edge.

"yes you can, baby," dean urges, lifting his mouth from your aching core just enough to speak, his eyes lifting to watch you as his fingers never break rhythm. "c'mon, cum for me sweetheart."

his rough words are all it takes for the band in your stomach to snap, dean's name leaving your lips in a cry as he sends you barreling over the edge so hard you swear you see stars behind your eyes. dean's fingers slow but don't stop, gently working you through your high as he presses kisses to your quivering thighs on his shoulders, whispering soft praises against your skin.

"that's my girl..shit, you're fuckin' drenching me, baby," he mutters, eyes glued to you as you come down from your release. "so good, such a good girl, hm?"

you whimper in response, your brain still too fuzzy with pleasure to respond properly. when you start to come down, his fingers still working at you are suddenly too much, oversensitivity making my legs twitch around his head. when you finally open your eyes, you lower your hooded gaze to dean between your legs, moving one of your hands from his hair to weakly grasp at his wrist, stopping his movement and getting his attention.

"need you, please dean, need you t'fuck me," you plead, your hand still in his hair tugging sharply to try and pull him up to you.

he grunts at your tug, obeying you and pulling his fingers from your quivering heat and bringing them to his mouth to lick clean as he crawls back over you. "mm, fuck pretty girl, y'taste like heaven," he groans, dipping down to capture your lips with his, shoving his tongue into your waiting mouth to make you taste yourself.

you moan into his mouth, the filthiness of the kiss making your toes curl as your teeth clash with his, his tongue swiping along the roof of your mouth as if to memorize the feel of it. you arch up into him, digging your nails into his scalp, your hips rolling up into his, whining into his mouth at the press of his arousal into your soaked core.

your shaky hands slip from his hair, lightly dragging your nails along his shoulders and down his toned chest, one lingering over the anti-possession tattoo inked into his skin while the other one falls down to the waistband of his jeans, fumbling with his belt.

dean groans against your mouth, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

"off," you rasp out, fingers fumbling with his belt buckle. dean makes a noise of agreement as he pulls away just enough so that you can both pull air into your lungs, ending up with you panting into each other's mouths as dean's hand drifts down to help you with his belt.

with a joint effort, you manage to undo his belt, both of your hands coming down to tug at his waistband with a frustrated whine. dean grunts in frustration as well, sitting back on his knees as he tries to maneuver out of his jeans and boxers.

as soon as the offending garments are far enough down his hips, you push up onto your knees, grabbing his shoulders and tugging his mouth back to yours. he makes a surprised sound and you use the opportunity to hook your foot around the back of his knee, gripping his shoulders tightly, and in one swift movement, you flip him over so he falls flat on his back, your legs straddling his hips.

a gasp leaves his slack, kiss-swollen lips as he falls on the bed, his lust blown eyes staring up at you so dark you can barely see the evergreen you love so much. as soon as his brain catches up, he kicks his jeans and boxers off his feet, letting them fall to the floor. you eagerly reach down between you, grasping his aching cock in your hand, pumping him a few times as you watch his face contort in pleasure below you.

"shit- baby, please," dean gasps, the air punched from his lungs when you swipe your thumb over his leaking tip. you don't respond, bringing your free hand to continue stroking him slowly as you lift your thumb to your lips, sucking his precum from your digit. he groans again, the sound strained as his hands fly to your hips, his blunt nails digging into your skin with the effort to not thrust up into your tempting heat. "c'mon, need you 'round me, sweetheart, please.."

though it's not the first time you've heard these please fall from his lips, hearing dean winchester beg for you, knowing he's a man who doesn't beg for anyone, breaks your barely kept self restraint.

you stop pumping him, leaning forward and bracing one hand on his chest as the other guides him to your entrance. you both let out a low moan as you sink down onto his length, the familiar stretch making your breath catch in your chest.

slowly, you take him in, desperate to feel every inch of him as your gummy walls suck him in greedily. dean lets out a soft groan at the intense feel of you around him, the sound making you clench around him, which causes his grip on your hips to tighten. after a few painstaking moments, you finally lower onto him fully, the plush of your ass meeting his hips, punching a broken moan from your chest.

dean watches you from below, his plush bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he fights the urge to thrust up into you, to move your hips, anything to feel more of you around him, to feel you come apart on him. "c'mon, sweetheart," he groans, the high pitch tone of his voice sounding dangerously close to a whine. "need you t'move, baby."

you nod at him, a low whine escaping your throat as you start to rock your hips back and forth on him, earning a moan of approval from him below you. you work his cock inside you until the burn of the stretch turns into simmering pleasure, climbing up from your core to the tips of your fingers that dig into his chest.

dean seems to decide that your pace is too slow for him, and with no warning, he grips your hips tighter, lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down at the same time his hips thrust up into you. the sudden action makes you cry out as his harsh thrust causes the tip of his cock to hit your cervix just right, your eyes rolling back into your head.

"shit- dean," you gasp, the air punched from your lungs as he slams you down onto him again, his cock deliciously kissing your cervix with every thrust. you move your hips as well, trying desperately to keep up with his rhythm but you can't, your thighs trembling around him as you cry out above him.

"that's it, fuck, so good, baby, such a good fuckin' girl, taking me so goddamn good," dean praises, his voice strained and breathy as he fucks up into you without abandon. you can only moan in response, but next thing you know, dean sits up abruptly, wrapping his arms around you, and the world is spinning.

he flips you with ease, his arms wrapped around your shoulders and waist lowering you back onto the bed, his cock never slipping from you. as soon as your safely placed on the mattress again, dean starts pistoning into you again, plunging into you like a man possessed. his head drops to your neck, chest pressed against yours as his teeth and tongue paint every patch of skin they can reach.

your reduced to a babbling, gasping mess as he pounds into you, the heat of his skin pressed against yours and his hot breath against your neck making you dizzy. your hands fly to his shoulders, nails dragging down his back as his cock hits that gummy spot inside of you.

the shock of pleasure from him hitting that spot forces a high pitched sound that resembled his name from your lips, making him nip at your neck, growling into your skin.

"oh, right there, huh? that the spot, baby?" dean huffs into your ear, angling his hips to hit that spot over and over again, so good you feel like your floating off the bed.

"uh huh, right there, right there- shit, so good," you moan, throwing your head back, eyes rolling into your skull and lips parted as your jaw goes slack from pleasure. you claw at his back, the sharp pain only spurring him on as he bites at your collarbone, fingers digging into the sheets next to your head.

"yeah, that's it baby..you're close, I can feel it- you're, shit, squeezin' me so fuckin' tight," he groans, tongue soothing over a bite mark left from his teeth.

you nod to the best of your ability, a loud, broken moan being pulled from your lips as one of his hands reaches down between you to rub his thumb in tight, almost harsh circles on your aching clit. it's almost too much, the blinding pleasure making your skin crawl, the band in your stomach getting dangerously close to snapping.

"oh fuck, dean, m'close, 'm so close-" you whimper, weakly lifting your hips the best you can to half-heartedly meet his thrusts.

"i know, baby, i know," he breathes into your ear, his thumb speeding up on your bundle of nerves, making you see stars behind your eyes. he lifts his head from your neck, smashing his lips to yours again, making you moan into his demanding mouth. "cum for me, pretty girl, c'mon, soak my fuckin' cock."

his words, muttered against your slack lips, send you flying over the edge with a scream of his name. your back arches under him, your nails digging so hard into his back you're sure you've drawn blood, but the thought is lost on you as your vision practically goes white with pleasure. you feel yourself gushing around his length, the blinding pleasure and slight overstimulation making a tear slip down your cheek.

"fuuck, good girl, baby, good fuckin' girl," dean grunts against your mouth as he feels you come apart around him, the intensity of you squeezing around him causing him to follow you over the edge with a groan of your name. you feel him twitch before he spills inside of you, the hot sensation of his cum filling your oversensitive cunt causing aftershocks to flow through you, making you moan weakly.

when he's finally spent, his hips slow to a stop, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as you both just lay there, catching your breath and coming down from the intense moment. your head is dizzy, and you can feel a few stray tears slipping down your cheeks as you lay there, spent.

after a few moments, dean lifts his head from your shoulder, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek gently, his touch a stark contrast to what just happened. he mutters your name softly, but you're still too blissed out to do anything but hum, your eyes still closed as you pant softly.

he says your name again, his thumb stroking your cheek softly, trying to get you to open your eyes, "c'mon, sweetheart, look at me. let me see those pretty eyes."

reluctantly, you do as he says, your eyes fluttering open with great effort to look up at him through your lashes. a smile breaks out onto his face, his thumb still stroking your cheek affectionately.

"there's my girl," dean whispers, leaning down to softly press his lips to yours just for a moment, to ground you, bring you back to him. his brows furrow in concern when he pulls back, his thumb wiping away the stray tears that had leaked from your eyes. "you okay? i didn't hurt you, did i?"

your pounding heart swells with affection at his concern, and you manage the strength to smile up at him, shaking your head and leaning into his touch.

"no, it was perfect," you whisper, your voice slightly hoarse from your earlier vocalization. "i needed that."

he smiles at your answer, shifting his hand to brush some of your sweaty hair from your forehead, pressing a kiss there to your heated skin. "yeah, i needed that too," he agrees, nuzzling his nose against yours with a soft sigh.

you relish in his affection for a few moments, both of you just laying there, sharing soft kisses and taking the other in. eventually though, the stickiness between your thighs becomes uncomfortable, and you start to squirm under him.

"not that i don't love this," you whisper softly, your eyes fluttering open to meet piercing green staring back at you. you gently lift your hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb over his cheek before you move your hand to his hair, fingers brushing through the short strands at the nape of his neck. "but we should get cleaned up."

dean hums in agreement, eyes slipping shut for a moment at your ministrations, opening again as he presses open last kiss to your lips before slowly lifting himself up and gently pulling out of you, making you wince.

"i know, m'sorry, sweetheart," he mumbles, gripping your thigh with his hand, tracing comforting circles into your heated skin. once you're seperated, he pushes up onto his knees before leaning down again, wrapping his arms under your back and lifting you into his arms.

you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his neck as carries you, resting against him as he walks to the motel bathroom. you feel an overwhelming sense of both relief and affection as his thumbs gently stroke the skin of your back while he carries you, and you turn your head, pressing a soft kiss over his pulse point, letting your lips linger against his skin.

"love you," you whisper into his skin, hoping that he doesn't just hear your love, but feels it along his spine, under his skin, and in his bones, wishing you could carve it into him until he knew he deserved it.

"i know," is his response, and you smile against him knowing that even when he doesn't say it back, he loves you. you feel it in the way he craves you, the way he protects you and keeps you safe, and you feel it in the reverent way he touches you, as if you are the only altar he will get on his knees for.

that is how you know dean winchester loves you, and you will spend the rest of your life proving to him that he deserves that kind of love too, even if it kills you.

a/n: ok, so here it is! this took me so friggin long to write but its finally done (thank god). just by the way, this was all written at like 3 in the morning on various days, so I am very sorry if this sucks. but anyways, thank you for reading and if you have any feedback, pls let me know!

p.s - I know i'm not like a big writer or anything but if anyone wants me to start a taglist lmk!

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #supernatural #supernatural drabble #supernatural smut #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester one shot #merry christmas

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mariswxt · 3 months ago

Text

libidinal

If Dean could curse every witch on this planet for dosing you and him with an aphrodisiac after ganking them, he would. His entire body was on fire— burning, and his mind was embarrassingly stuck on you. You, your thighs, lips, your ass. It all rattled about in his head like a broken record, and he craved you, craved the relief like crazy.

He knew that you were feeling the same things he was right now, the ache, burn, relentless want that you just couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. Ugh, you needed him. Like you’d die if you didn’t have him. Dean felt the same damn way — trust him — like one touch and he’d break the damn best friend code of conduct.

You’d think both of you would have more control of yourselves, considering how you were both hunters who’d faced stuff like vampires and shit. "This is gettin’ on my nerves, sweetheart," he scoffed, eyes fluttering up and down you. You were too hot for this world— and that wasn’t just the pollen talking, but his drugged up mind couldn’t stop.

"Fuck this." he slowly took off his sweat-soaked shirt, looking for signs that you’d jump him. Dean rubbed the sweat off his chest, having no damn right to look that jacked and edible right now, ugh. He can't take all of this crap, including being quarantined in this damn motel room by Sam. It’s for a reason, though.

He groaned, aching, desperate, gesturing for you to keep away so he could resist this damned pollen’s effects. "Oh, m’ gonna kill Sammy if he doesn’t find a cure for this stat." Dean covered his ears, yeah, no. He acted as if covering his ears and blocking out all noise would stop the ache for you, well, it sure didn’t.

Pacing back and forth, he took one look at you— nope, look away, you looked too hot, nope. "Yeah, I’ll kill him." He winced when he got a very R-rated image in his head— he was desperate for you, you, for some relief, mainly sex.

He felt like every second without his hands on your ass was torture— he hoped he wouldn’t go to hell.

“Oh, I’m fine.” You breathed, sarcastic, giving him a look with raised eyebrows. “Just — you know — feeling like my body’s burning alive, I’m sweatin’, my brain hurts.” Your eyes were hungrily searching his bare chest, biting your lip— no, stop, even if you felt on fire and were sweating buckets.

“You’re clearly not,” he retorted. He would’ve found it funny that you were checking him out, but the need was so overwhelming, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from throwing you onto the nearest surface.

“So… no need to be sarcastic. M’ just trying to control myself.” He muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and keeping the distance between you. “Can’t say the same for you though, sweetheart, ‘cause I can see ya gawkin’.”

“Yeah, just quit it, you look like a five star buffet. A girl can’t help herself when she’s drugged up on an aphrodisiac.” You groaned, dabbing your sweaty-ass neck with a towel, not able to help the way your eyes hungrily drank in his chest. “I’m makin’ do with the view I’ve got while my pussy’s yellin’ at me right now.”

“Christ, darlin’.” He muttered. He felt all fuzzy inside when you said that, he hated how hungry the damn pollen made him for you, for your body. Dean’s eyes darkened, taking in the way you kept looking at him, how you were yearning for him like he was with you. His fingers gripped on the chair he was sitting on, and he leaned forward— he needed to stay on the damn chair.

“And what kinda things is it tellin’ you, hm?” He asked, voice lowering, growling almost. His cock was telling him to go over there, moan in your ear as he thrusted into you, that’s what— but he had to deny himself of such luxurious pleasures. How great.

“To throw away all sense of modern feminism and let you fuck me hard on the floor.” You breathed, moaning softly at getting the words out. “Or letting you bend me over the table. Eat me out on the bed, take me from behind on said bed.” Another desperate moan.

Shit.

Dean almost groaned out loud, damn you. You were going to be the death of him. He was so damn hard right now, and he gripped even tighter on the chair, he would break it if he wasn’t careful.

“Sweet girl, I know you’re not talkin' about feminism when you got your hungry eyes all over me right damn now.” He bit out, clenching his jaw. Dean couldn’t help the fantasies that were running through his mind, especially when you let those moans out.

“I know.” You murmured, nodding, levelling the playing field and taking your shirt off too, leaning back against the bed’s headboard. Shit. Your skin that glistened with sweat, glowing more in the shitty motel light, tits now on display for his hungry-ass eyes. Your head tipped back, eyebrows pinched together tight, lips parted ever so slightly. Shit.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, eyes drinking in that perfect body of yours like a man who hadn’t had a drop of water in years. He’d seen you in a bikini before and almost lost it, but this view, this view was a sight for sore eyes. One that he was now staring at shamelessly.

His mouth hung agape as his eyes traveled from your chest to your face, he was desperate — all for you. “What’re you gettin’ at?” He asked, voice low and ragged.

“That I’m hot too. A woman can exist with her shirt off.” You scoffed, thighs rubbing together for any friction. C’mon, fuck, you got nothing— guess Dean’s cock was the answer, but not fucking your friend was the first cardinal rule of maintaining a best-friendship. “Oh, I’m gonna kill those witches even if they’re in the afterlife. I—” You let out a small whimper of frustration, the ache building. “God damn.”

“Damn right you’re hot, sweetheart.” he muttered, eyes locked to your thighs, practically drooling— maybe he wasn’t talking about the heat both of you were burning under. Dean’s tongue darted out and wet his dry lips, watching you as you rubbed your thighs against one another for friction. Damn it, it should be him being that friction, if that even made sense— he didn’t know, his brain was sludge. “I know, baby girl, m’ feelin’ what you are, I get it.”

He wanted to reach out and touch you so bad, but he had to get a grip. Sam could come back with a cure— maybe. Could he wait that long? Probably not.

You, however, simply did not have the patience nor the fucks to deal with Sam and his annoying lateness— you needed your best friend, he needed you, you had two holes he could put his dick into — you weren’t doing ass stuff on the first fuck — so it’s a win-win. “Dean, fuck this cure.” You whined, breath hitching as you yanked your sweats down, panties going with, pussy leaking and aching and so very empty. “Can’t wait, I can’t— c’mere. Fuck me, c’mere.”

Ok— yeah— yes, ma’am.

The sight had his eyes getting dark, nearly feral as he quickly stood up from his chair. The chair fell backwards and made a loud thud against the floor, but he couldn’t care less— not when you looked so damn delectable on the bed in front of him. Dean took quick steps towards you, practically ripping off the rest of his shirt.

He kneeled on the bed in front of you, practically pinning you to the bed. He couldn’t help himself. “M’ here, I’m here. Tell me what you want.” He huffed out, hips already bucking against the bed, moaning at the friction as he kissed over your bare tits and up your neck, licking up your neck, sweat on his tongue— yes, it’s disgusting, but he’d ponder on that in retrospect, right now he felt like an animal.

You guided his hand between your legs then kissed him, hotly, hungry, your lips devouring his, hand on the back of his head keeping him there. It was like a dam had broken, your breath harsh and heavy against his lips.

He grunted into the kiss, eyes slipping shut against the onslaught of your lips against his. His hand easily found its way down to you, the second you pushed him where you wanted him. God, his hand ached to be between your thighs.

“M’ here,” he breathed in between hot kisses. “M’ here, sweetheart, I gotcha.” The words were muffled, breathless, as he pushed your thighs apart, finding your wetness, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head. God, he was starved for you, as you were for him, it felt frantic, hazy, like relief that he was finally touching your skin that would go away instantly, as it wasn’t enough. Your scent had his eyes actually rolling back for a second, a pant and a whine leaving his mouth in quick succession as his free hand pushed sweaty hair out of your face, his own spiky from your hand running through it.

He ground his cock against the bed, feeling himself leaking — as were you — and these touches alone honestly had him feeling like he could embarrass himself right here, and come in his pants like a teenager before even getting the chance to fuck you properly.

You nodded against his lips, practically gone and inattentive to anything but him, leaning more of your body weight back against the headboard and pulling — yanking — him with you, panting, desperate. “Need you, baby, please.”

Oh, he needed you too, baby girl.

“Need you too, gorgeous.” he panted, letting you push him around between your legs and wiping sweat off his forehead briefly, wiping that hand on the sheets— shit, that left a pretty dark mark. He bit down on your bottom lip, groaning into the kiss. God, you looked so pretty, so needy and desperate, and you were all for him. He needed to mark you in some way, make you his in every possible way. He needed to.

“You need me inside this pretty pussy, baby?” He asked, his hand already gliding over your slickness, his eyes locked on yours. His fingers pushed inside you, a moan leaving both your mouths as he felt the lack of resistance on your cunt’s part, and how it sucked his fingers in — fuck, you were tight — and he worked your bra off so he could suck and flick his tongue against your nipples one at a time, moaning against the softness of your tits— mmh, that felt so good.

You nodded frantically, cause fuck yeah, moaning, lips still pressed to his as the pressure had you whimpering in relief. “Yes— yes, baby, d-don’t you stop, ok? God, feels so good.”

“I won’t, wasn’t plannin’ on it, baby doll.” he grumbled against your lips. He didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon, not when you felt this good around his fingers, when you sounded so damn pretty.

“Christ, I need you.” His words were nearly a whisper as he pushed down his jeans and boxers. He was so hard, so desperate for you, that he couldn’t hold back anymore. “You ready, baby?” Well, he certainly was, let’s put it that way. He’d been grinding on the bed the whole time he was on top of you.

“So ready.” You nodded, kissing him desperately, hotly again, panting, whimpering, the works. God, you felt like you were on fire, like it wouldn’t stop until you had him— it felt almost primal. Why wouldn’t you be ready, though? You weren’t a woman if you didn’t get soaked for Dean Winchester.

“M’ gonna take care of you, baby girl, I will.” He muttered against your lips, taking deep breaths. The words came out in a near growl and a grunt, he was hungry for you, starved, so he’d let you kiss him breathless, and he’d kiss you back just as fiercely as you.

He needed to give you the relief you needed, the pleasure, the release. He still rubbed at your pussy, all while he continued kissing you, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

You moaned against his lips, nails raking down his back, leg hooking over his hip— fuck the cure, fuck Sammy (though the poor guy deserves more credit), you just needed this right now, you felt like you could explode. Spontaneously combust. Lit match to gasoline. “God, don’t wait.”

“I won’t wait. Not anymore.” He grunted as he felt your nails dig into his skin, and your legs wrapped around him. He was so desperate to be inside you, and the sight of you just beneath him, the sounds coming out of your mouth, they just made him throb.

“I got you, I’m gonna take care of you baby doll, m’ gonna take care of you real good.” He panted against your neck, biting down on the skin as he slid into you, his mouth dropping open at the pure relief.

Your head fell back, a long, drawn moan leaving your mouth— you swore it felt like a cooling balm had been slapped on your bodies, or ice cold water. It just felt like a splash of pure relief, and you couldn’t stop chasing it, it felt like euphoria. “Shitfuck.”

“Oh, god,” he groaned, groaned, eyes squeezed shut. He hadn’t felt relief like this in so long, and your moans were like a damn symphony to his ears. He nearly felt like he was in heaven, that you were an angel.

“You’re so perfect — perfect.” He panted against your skin, placing kisses against your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder, as he found a pace. “Feels so good, darlin’, good girl.” It took all the effort in the world for him to not just lose himself and start pounding into you, just to say.

Good girl? You could’ve come right there. Squirted, even.

But no. Your leg hitched higher on his hip, clutching at his shoulder and at the headboard, your forehead pinched, eyes closed as you just felt it, couldn’t stop feeling, desperately letting shameless moans slip past your lips— as if you could control those.

“Yeah, that’s it — give it to me, baby.” he panted, his eyes taking in the sight of you, how you were falling apart. “Take it, take it all, just let me do all the work, yeah, good girl.” One of his hands trailed down your body, to the back of your thigh, holding it up, using it as leverage to push into you.

He wouldn’t last long, he couldn’t. Not with the sounds coming out of your mouth, the way you looked. “You’re so damn pretty when you give it up, baby.”

“Dean,” You couldn’t help but moan, over and over, paired with the occasional shameless “yes”, eventually bringing him in for a hungry, sloppy kiss, feeling the pendant on his necklace cool against your skin.

“Ah—” he groaned against your lips, his kisses almost violent, more teeth than tongue than anything else. God, his name on your pretty lips was sinful, but he wanted to hear it again and again.

His hands continued to touch you everywhere they could, not missing a curve or angle, and just taking in the pure ecstasy of it all. “You look so perfect like this — all for me.” he panted against you, the coolness of the amulet was almost refreshing against his over-heated skin, he’ll had to admit, and seeing it between your tits? God, another bonus.

Ooh, an idea. You used your leg hooked around his waist, plus some hunter training, rolling you both over, immediately gripping the shitty-ass fabric and plush of the pillow so you could begin to move up and down, hitting that angle without missing a beat. “Sh—Shit.”

Oh, oh wow, he had to take a few deep breaths. He didn’t expect you to suddenly roll the two of you over but he certainly wasn’t complaining. You looked so damn perfect on top of him, like a goddamn dream. He gripped onto your hips, helping you move, a moan leaving his lips as you kept up the pace.

“That’s it baby doll, good girl—“ he couldn’t help but babble. “Can’t keep my hands off you.” He panted, staring up at you. “Doing all the work, look at you— I ain’t gonna last, sweetheart, please tell me you’re almost there.”

“M’ almost there.” The sentence came out as a moan, seeing him in his glory, amulet on his chest, all ridges of muscle and soft skin, your other hand gripping the headboard as you moved, assisted by his hands on your hips, calloused pads of his fingers pressing into your skin. “P—Please, baby, a—almost there, so, so close—”

“Just— just come with me, please— please—” He panted, his hands gripping your hips so tight, he knew that he’d leave marks, but he’d deal with it later. Right at that moment, he was just lost in the feeling.

“Come on, give it to me, baby, I wanna see it, wanna feel it.” He was desperate, but a gentleman, he wanted you to reach it first. You were absolutely too gorgeous for words, and he was nearly going feral— his mouth went dry. “Good girl, good girl, good girl, c’mon — oh, c’mon—”

The coil in your stomach snapped as you came, pure, unbridled euphoria and uninhibited ecstasy, your eyes rolling back, hips stuttering and pressing into his hands as your thighs shook, but you kept on to get him there. “O-Oh, baby, c-c’mon, Dean, please— please—”

Sweet mother of god.

Your voice, your movements, your face, it all just pushed him over that final edge, and a loud moan tore out of his throat as he rode it out. “God, baby doll, god—” was all he could manage.

He didn’t even realise his eyes fluttered shut. He was panting heavily, his chest rising and falling, the amulet resting gently between his pectorals. “Oh god, baby girl, c’mere— come here.” He muttered, hands gripping your hips, pulling you down. He just wanted to feel you against him— wait, what? The burn wasn’t going, it just wasn’t.

“Dean.” You whined, letting out a frustrated moan. “S’wasn’t enough, I can still feel it. Still feel it, baby.” You panted, keeping yourself up. Well, of course this thing wasn’t a one-and-done. You already broke all the cardinal rules of friendship without compunction, but now you had to do it again? Wow. Great going.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He breathed, eyes opening, and looking up at you, the corners of his lips slightly turned up. He could feel it too, it was like something was missing, and he didn’t know what it was.

He pulled you down, and held you against his chest as he caught his breath. One of his hands moved to the side of your face, and he gently guided you into a soft kiss, the other hand moving down and squeezing your ass. “God, I need you so goddamn much.”

“Mhmm. Need you too.” You whined, your kisses becoming more insistent, needier— ok, don’t blame you, it seems to affect women more. “Can you— need you t’ take over, Dean.”

A small smirk appeared on his lips as you began to become more needy. “Don’t mind if I do, sweetheart.” He growled against your lips. He pushed you off of him, and rolled the two of you over, so you were now beneath him again, and his body was above yours.

“You want me to take over, huh?” He questioned, his lips moving to your neck, leaving nips and open-mouthed kisses over the skin. “You want me to take care of you?” His hips started snapping against you, a groan leaving his lips, cause oh, Jesus.

Woah, ok, you could get used to this. Especially with how you moaned, nodding desperately, leaving red marks on his shoulders and arms, his amulet touching the valley of your now bouncing tits with every thrust again, head tipping back as his cock brushed your cervix, hearing his grunts and pants in your ear mixed with your moans.

He couldn’t help the smirk that stayed on his lips as you clawed at his skin. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you? You like it when I take care of you?” He questioned, his mouth against your neck, his hips snapping against you, desperate to hear the pretty sounds leaving your lips.

“Tell me how much you like it, baby girl, go on.” His words were punctuated by a sharp bite to your shoulder, the other hand gripping your hip.

“Love it, Dean, fuck.” You gasped, your eyes rolling back, the knot in your stomach coming faster this time, scratching at his hips, the hot-ass dip in his back— anything you could reach, really, you weren’t picky.

“That’s it baby girl, there you go—“ he panted, his hips thrusting against yours, just pushing you closer and closer, his mouth against your skin still, leaving open-mouthed kisses and harsh bites.

The sounds you were making were just pushing him closer and closer, he was just desperate for you, and he couldn’t control the words that blurted out of his mouth. “God, you look so damn perfect baby, so damn pretty, so much better than I ever dreamed—“ Sure, he just revealed that he’d thought about this, but he still put your legs over his shoulders, leaning forward, splitting you in half and thrusting into you.

The new angle made your mouth fall open in a perfect ‘o’, and the feeling just overwhelmed your brain, made your body go positively wild, and you could swear some drool dribbled from the corner of your mouth. “D-Dean—”

Christ, he’s never seen anything so pretty.

He groaned as he took in the sight of you, your legs over his shoulders. “You like that, huh? You like it when I—“ his words were cut off with a strangled moan, you were just so perfect, he was never going to be able to get enough.

He managed to make a few more noises, some of them resembling your name, before he just dropped his forehead to your shoulder. “Baby— baby, need to come again in you, can I?“

You made a noise that sounded like a moaned yes, and you’d never known that being split in half by a guy would ever feel this good, your hands braced on the underside of your thighs. Well, that was a confirmation.

He groaned as he felt you nod against his shoulder, words being lost on him after that. That was a yes, a good, proper yes. He didn’t even know what he was saying, all that he knew was that he needed to give you it. So he just gave it to you hard, and fast, not letting up an inch. “Good girl, good girl, you’re doing so good, taking it so well, baby doll—” all the while, he panted against your skin.

He groaned against your skin, his mouth pressed to your shoulder. Hearing that, feeling you around him, he was done for, he was gone— “Yeah, baby, oh, you’re so good, so good, feels so damn good, I’m coming baby, I’m gonna—“

He let out a strangled moan, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as he rode it out, burying his face into the crook of your neck, panting, grunting, smoothing your hair back as he spilled into you with a low moan.

You stroked his hair, helping him come down from it, feeling tired out— I mean, at least the pollen’s fucked out, right? Just… you hated witches now. You get Dean’s point— you didn’t before, but now you do.

He let out a weary groan, breathing still laboured and his skin was still flushed. When he came to and registered that you were stroking his hair, he let his head fall onto your chest, his head against your tits. Mm, like a pillow, feels s’nice.

“God, that was intense.” He whispered against your skin. “You okay, sweetheart?” He was spent, absolutely boneless and limp, and just content to lay there and bask in the aftermath of what you’d just done.

“Better than before.” You breathed, nodding, rubbing your cheek. “S’ not as sore as I thought it’d be, if I’m bein’ honest. But now I get why you hate witches.”

He let out a chuckle, which just sounds more like a quiet scoff, and he lifted his head up to look at you, a slight smirk on his lips. “Oh yeah? You get it now, huh?” His head returned to its original position after a few moments, and he nuzzled against you, an arm wrapping around your waist. “Not sore, huh? I didn’t go too hard on ya, did I?”

“No, but, uh…” You grinned cheekily. “Being carried to the bath would be much appreciated.” Oh, the little shit.

Of course.

He lifted his head to look at you, an entertained and amused look on his face. “Oh, you’re gonna be real cute, aren’t you?” He questioned, and then in a quick movement, he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you against his chest.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@cheynovak

special tags for my boos: @jasvtsc @deanswidow @beausling @titsout4nicholas @figthoughts

@deansbite

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deansbeer · 3 months ago

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drenched in sin ・ DEAN WINCHESTER. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ pinned library

eighteen plus. minors do NOT interact.

KARI NOTES. new layout isn't as pretty as the one i use for my fics—at least i think they are—but i wanted to try it out. neither is it a guarantee it will stay this way either. SO ignore my old layouts for everything else. they're all disorganized & honestly? i'm too lazy to reorganize them.

it's been weeks. weeks of shitty motels, long drives, and even longer hunts. but now, you're finally back in bed with dean, and he's got that mischievous glint in his eye that makes your stomach flip.

"'m telling you, sweetheart," he drawls, his cocky smirk widening as he kneels between your thighs, spreading them wider. "you can do it again. you squirted all over me last time."

you groan, covering your face with your hands. "dean, that was a fluke. it's not gonna happen again."

he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, his scruff scratching your sensitive skin. "a fluke, huh?" he murmurs, his lips trailing higher. "guess i'll just have to prove you wrong."

before you can argue, he's already between your legs, his mouth hot and wet as he drags his tongue through your folds. he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up to your clit, sucking it into his mouth like he's starved. the sound he makes—half groan, half growl—has your back arching off the bed, your hands twisting in the sheets.

"shit, de," you gasp, your legs trembling as his tongue flicks over your clit again and again, each stroke sending sparks shooting through your body.

he pulls back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening, his green eyes dark with hunger. "god, i missed this," he mutters, sliding two fingers into you with ease, curling them just right. "missed the way you taste, the way you fall apart for me."

you bite your lip, trying to keep your moans quiet, but it's useless. his mouth is back on you, his fingers working you over with expert precision, and you can already feel the pressure building low in your belly.

"dean," you pant, your hips bucking against his face. "'s too much. i can't—"

"you can," he cuts you off, his voice muffled against you. "c'mon, babydoll. give it to me."

his tongue and fingers move faster, relentless, and you're trembling so hard you can barely breathe. the coil in your belly tightens, tighter and tighter, until it snaps, and suddenly you're cumming so hard you see stars.

"oh my god—dean!" you cry out as your release gushes out of you, soaking his entire face and your thighs. you try to squirm away, embarrassed, but his big palms clamp down on your stomach, holding you in place.

"oh no, you don't," he growls, his lips brushing over your sensitive clit as he keeps you pinned. "that was fuckin' beautiful, sweetheart. you're dripping all over me."

"dean, baby, stop," you whine, your face burning as you try to push him away. "you're gettin' it everywhere."

he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your slick folds before pulling back, his face and chest a mess but looking completely unbothered. "sweetheart," he says, wiping his forehead and mouth with the back of his hand, "if you think i give a shit about getting messy, you don't know me at all."

before you can respond, he's crawling back up your body, his lips crashing into yours, and you taste yourself on his tongue. "you're fuckin' incredible," he murmurs against your lips, his cock pressing hard and heavy against your slick folds. "and now i'm gonna fuck you so good, you'll make an even bigger mess."

and knowing dean, you don't doubt it for a fucking second.

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lostalioth · 5 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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soldiersgirl · 18 days ago

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— 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲/𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨 .ᐟ

summary — the people's princess and the people's prince, that's what you were promised. the reality? he was the best worst thing to happen to you, yet.

cw — supe!fem!reader x soldier boy. payback era. 18+ smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it), spit kink, teasing, corruption kink (kinda), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, name calling (slut, whore, princess, baby, sweetheart, angel), degradation, cursing, edging, riding, drugs, drinking, mentions of manipulation blackmail, mean & soft ben.

word count — 3,844 words

you were laying there, in the haze of the moment, trying to remember a time before him, before all the chaos and turmoil. life had been calm, somewhat boring, but tolerable before being head-hunted by vought. life in a rural, suburban town had its perks; you knew everyone and everyone trusted you despite your... curse, as you called it; "powers" by everyone else.

they weren't super powers, they weren't a gift. it was a curse set upon you; the responsibility too big to bear for only a little girl when they first showed up. the mind reading and mind control. touching your mum's hand in comfort and seeing her whole life flash before your eyes; her thoughts, her wants, her sins. the same with your father.

you hadn't, willingly, let anyone touch you for 20 years, not up until you were thrusted into the spotlight and ben's experienced hands.

he had crushed the bennies with the bottom of his hunting knife on the edge of his bedside table before lining up the fine powder over the valley of your bare breasts. he couldn't coerce you into taking them with him like he wanted, so he had to resort to taking them off you instead. you lay with bated breath as he chuckles to himself before snorting the drug, his nose dragging over your full breasts; his hands cupping them softly to make sure you keep still. unlike last time, when you fucking spilled the powder all over and he had to lick it off of you like a dog, lapping at his water-bowl. you can't help but admire his hardened features as he pinches his nose and rests his head on your breast, feeling the full effect of the drugs.

the freckles that dance over his nose, his moss green eyes and the gentle wrinkles surrounding them, his plush rose lips, that both spit venom and whisper honeyed words.

for as long as you can remember, no one touched your bare skin unless it was arranged and paid for, by your parents. while you were still young and impressionable, they talked you into "using your powers for good". people paid you, or rather your parents, to make you control them, "help" them. help addicts drop their addiction, no matter what it may be. help people work harder, better to get that promotion. help politicians get votes, get laws passed. help people fall in and out of love. no matter what it was, it had a price and many were desperate enough to pay it. it was a vicious, endless cycle but you were seen as a selfless saviour to those in need.

which is exactly why vought wanted you, needed you. some recent controversies and mild scandals had landed payback in hot water with the board members and pr team. allegations of drug use, violent bar fights, bribing, sex. you name it and the members of payback had probably done it. and here you came in, to save their name and reputation.

the crowd cheered as you stumbled onto the stage, the board members sitting front row looking pleased with themselves and payback sneering behind you, their eyes silently warning you; threatening. your hair had been curled and styled to perfection and you had been forced into a, somewhat, modest lilac suit that hugged each curve deliciously; if you asked soldier boy. along with matching gloves to keep you from accidentally reading someone's mind.

it was a fear that you carried with you at all times. with just a brush or graze of your hands against theirs; all their deep, dark secrets spilled and exposed. no matter what or how much you saw, you kept it all tightly locked up and pushed deep down so that it would never spill over the surface. you could barely live with yourself anyway, but it wasn't your place to ruin others lives in return.

"mystara!" the host announced as he slipped his arms around your shoulder and shook you as you forced a smile. "small town girl coming to big town new york! us, at vought, are delighted to announce that she'll be joining your favourite team, paybaaaack!" he pointed back at the vexed members who all plastered on fake smiles, similar to yours. they all waved ceremoniously, arrogantly to the crowd. soldier boy swaggered forward, pushed the host back to replace his arm around your shoulder and grabbed the mic from the host with a smirk.

"we are more than thrilled to have such a beautiful addition to our team. especially as she is my new girlfriend!" he said through gritted teeth. vought had worked hard to ensure that the marketing was in place. pairing you and soldier boy would only increase numbers. the soft-spoken mind-reader with the brutish, rough killer? it was almost too good and too easy. "we can't wait to work with her and make her a valued member of the team. ain't that right, sweetheart?" he turned and your eyes finally met. you could barely manage to keep the eye contact, his eyes demanding your attention as he held the microphone to your quivering lips. all you could hear was crimson countess scoffing behind the pair of you.

"thank you, s-soldier boy. i am so pleased to be here, so excited for this opportunity. i owe this to my parents, stan edgar and most importantly you, b-babe." you stuttered through your PR approved speech. soldier boy planted an unexpected kiss on your cheek before hissing in your ear.

"if you ever use any of your fuckin' tricks on me, i'll destroy your fuckin' pathetic, little life. you got that, sweetheart?" all you could do was stand frozen and just nod. "atta girl." he laughs and gives your ass a small pat.

"if only they could see you now, baby, hmm?" ben sighs as he pepper kisses across your breasts, his tongue poking out and flicking at your hardened nipple, chuckling as you squirm. "not so sweet and innocent as you would have them all believe." he hums as he sucks at one nipple and pinches the other, whilst whimpers fall past your bitten lips. "who knew you could be such a whore? such a sweet, obedient whore for me..." he groans as he leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses down your heaving chest and tensed stomach.

"you're so mean." you huff in protest, arching your back to feel his lips better against your supple skin.

"shut the fuck up, you love it." he scoffs, swiping his fingers through your folds and admiring the slick that adorns his fingers. "look how fucking wet you are and i've barely even touched you." his eyes sparkle as he brings his fingers to your mouth, inviting you to taste. your defiance isn't appreciated and he roughly grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open and stuffing his fingers against the pad of your tongue. "fuuuck, sweetheart." his voice filled with adoration as you wildly suck and run your tongue over his fingers.

he knew he destroyed everything he touched, but he just couldn't keep his hands off of you. since he first saw you, he just knew that you were the one for him. underneath your innocent eyes and soft-spoken nature, you were hungry for acceptance; for someone to love you for you and not fear you. a feeling he mirrored and knew all too well.

he pulled back his hand, a string of saliva connecting his digits to your panting mouth. he slightly slaps your clit with his spit-covered fingers, messily running them back and forth over your most sensitive spot, relishing in your pleading.

"ben, ben- please, oh fuck-" you beg, as your hands pull and tug on the cotton sheets beneath you. it only ignites ben's excitement as he roughly spits on your pussy before dragging up pointed tongue up through your folds and settling on your tortured clit. he hungrily devours you as he wraps his toned arms around your thighs and tries, but fails, to keep you still as you feverishly buck your hips against his gifted tongue.

"god, you're so fuckin' needy, aren't you? always fuckin' beggin' and pleading for me." he mumbles against your folds, his tongue still working to pull the first orgasm out of you. "you're just my lil needy princess, aren't you? does my princess want to cum on soldier boy's tongue?" you can only squeeze your eyes shut and nod as your senses are overwhelmed. "look at me." another slap against your pussy. "look. at. me." ben demands. his eyes could burn a whole through yours with the intensity of his gaze as you start to lose control and cum all over his tongue. he loosens his grip on you and let you grind your pussy against his tongue, as he smirks and savours your taste coating his tongue.

ben wastes no time climbing on top of you, smashing his lips onto yours and your tongues intertwining with one another. to your surprise, he pauses to rest his forehead against yours and stroke your cheek.

it took you weeks to settle into your room and role at payback, no one took you seriously but simultaneously they feared you. dodged you when you got too close, afraid of what you would see, of what you would think of them. ironically, you didn't care enough to want to know their secrets and regrets, you could barely carry those you already had tried to forget.

but what you had forgotten is that your life wasn't yours to control. you were nothing but a puppet to the company that had threatened to "send you away" if you didn't comply.

you would pose as a secretary during vought meetings with a wig and all, shaking hands with international elected officials and relaying the information to vought management for extortion and blackmail purposes. influencing presidents, CEOs, and industry moguls to strategically invest in vought and help pass supe-positive laws to allow more human testing and production of compound v. anything to make vought more money.

however, it didn't stop there. the more power-hungry vought got, the more you were pushed around and forced to go against your morals. over the past several weeks, you had been sneaking into the payback member's individual rooms to gain intel and to make them more... complacent to voughts ideas and suggestions. but when it came to soldier boy, you flat-out refused. no matter how much you screamed and shouted at your managers, your worries were pushed aside.

that's how you found yourself sneaking into his room against your own will and better judgement. he looked so vulnerable when he slept, his brows furrowed only slightly and his hair swept beautifully across his hardened features. you're not sure how long you just stood there and just admired him, wanting nothing more than to just reach out and touch...

what you hadn't known that night, was that soldier boy was wide awake. he wasn't surprised; he knew why you were there and what vought was up to. but what surprised him was that you just left, without using your powers on him like he had expected and defying vought.

he thought about you for days until one evening, he thought it was finally time to confront you, to get some fucking answers. it was just after midnight and all the members had gone to bed after some heavy drinking and drug-taking in the payback conference room; everyone except you. you were never invited and never expected and that suited you just fine. you had witnessed how that shit could destroy lives too many times to count and you heeded the warnings. three loud knocks rapped at your door pulling you out of your thoughts. you sat your book down, instinctively pulled on your gloves, padded over barefoot and opened your door.

"s-soldier boy." you gasped. he looked down at you with a sneer, his brows in a deep frown and his soft, unstyled hair falling just in front of his analysing eyes. he simply grunted as he looked you over; no makeup, messy hair, pink pyjama set and your fuckin' gloves. he silently pushed past you and walked into your bedroom, leaving you frozen and confused at your door. you quickly closed the door and turned to the contrasting, intimidating figure in your girly bedroom. like a western stand-off, you both stood and just watched one another, waiting to see who'd break first.

"why?" he barked at you, making you flinch.

"why what, sir?" you asked carefully.

"don't give me that sir bullshit." he snorted. "do you think i'm fucking stupid, huh? why didn't you touch me that night with your freaky-ass powers? i know you're doing it to all the others, by the way. i've seen how you sneak in and out of their rooms, how they're suddenly acting different and think everythin' vought does is just revolutionary. i see you." with each sentence, he makes his way over to you right until he's towering over you. you feel like a wounded animal at the end of a hunter's gun, silently begging for freedom.

"i- i couldn't. i was afraid of what i'll see. afraid of how you would react if you worked it out. afraid of you." you quietly admit, deciding it's better to be truthful and once you started, it was hard to stop.

"but what if i wanted you to see?" he muttered in response.

he had pushed and folded your legs tightly against your chest as he mercilessly pounded his thick cock into you, with one hand wrapped tightly around your dainty throat and the other grabbing your thigh to stabilise himself. the only sounds filling the room were your hushed begging and ben whispering the most foul words into your ear as you came undone under him.

"god, please- ben, im so close, please.." you begged endlessly and breathlessly as his grip on your throat tightens.

"always so fuckin' tight, princess. god, you're so cock-hungry, it just keeps suckin' me in. fuck." he groans as his stubble rubs against your ear. his hips snap ruthlessly against yours, your gummy walls contracting and clamping around him. "d'you wanna come, baby? gonna cum all over my cock, like the slut you are?" as your eyes roll into your head, you somehow manage to nod and let out a weak "yes, please...". his teeth nipped and tugged on your ears before travelling down and leaving sloppy kisses all down your neck before biting down on your shoulder. marking your silky skin and watching with glee as the teeth marks decorate your skin as a reminder of who you belong to.

he pealed himself away to gaze softly down at you and your completely fucked-out state. god, he was convinced that he would never grow tired of this sight, which is why he immediately stopped, leaving you high and dry. tears threaten to form and roll down your reddened cheeks as you stare at him, mouth agape and band right about to snap.

"my sweet angel, i'm not done with you yet." he hums as turns you over onto all fours and slowly starts to thrust again as he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, starting the torturous process all over again.

he had grabbed your wrist and slipped off your glove as you fought and yelled in protest. this is the last thing you wanted. you weren't ready to face the horrors that his psyche hid. but he wanted to give you the full truth so he could pour some out and share the in the guilt you carried, together.

"stop!" you yell out. "no, fuck! don't, plea-" his fingers had intertwined with yours and everything flashed before your eyes like a bomb had gone off behind your eyes.

his abusive father, his distant mother, his trauma-filled boarding school days, injecting the compound v and the pain that followed. all the fake pr stunts; normandy beach, ww2, helping the soldiers. the drugs, the women, the drinking. killing, murders, bodies beaten to a pulp. the desperate need for approval, for acceptance, for something real. like you, his life was no longer his and he feared the worst. the last thing that appeared in front of your eyes was as clear as day: his dirty, unfiltered thoughts of you.

you wrenched your hand from his grip and staggered back, your mind a whirlwind.

"don't ever fucking do that again." your chest heaved with anger. "you don't have the fucking right to do that! no matter who you are!" you snatched back your glove and put it on.

"did you see it all?" he asked calmly. not what you expected.

"i saw everything." you nod.

"... and?"

suddenly, the towering figure in front of you had transformed into the young boy who yearned for love and understanding. he had never wanted to be feared but it was wired into his new dna and he couldn't shake it no matter how much he wanted to. you couldn't help but soften up and almost... pity him.

"and i see you." you repeat his earlier words back to him. he lets out a loud sigh and runs a hand over his rugged face. "i- i had no idea. about everything. i'm sorry." ben scoffs in response.

"i don't need your fucking sympathy. i just needed you to know that..." he hesitated. "i understand and i'm not afraid of you. you shouldn't be afraid of me. i don't want you to be." he edges closer to you, grabbing the tips of your gloves and slowly sliding them off, his eyes never leaving yours. he held your hands in his as if they were porcelain, bringing one up and kissing one of your fingertips to show the depth of his words. "our hands are weapons used against our will. but together, you and me, we can resurrect something beautiful."

"ben." you gasp, all of this unexpected.

"you know i want this. my dirty thoughts of you, they were never mine to keep." he sighed before leaning down, ever so slightly, and brushing his lips against yours. you grab the back of his neck and bring his lips to yours in a heated clash of tongues and teeth. you knew he was going to wreck you, but you wanted nothing more than to give in and seek comfort in your american psycho.

that's how you ended up here; riding ben like your life depended on it. your tight walls hugging bens cock like your pussy was made for him and his hands fitting perfectly on your hips as he guided you. he swallowed your loud moans as your lips tangled together and your tongues intertwined. his hips bucking up to match your frenzied tempo as you lost yourself in the sensation of being completely filled by him. he threads his finger through your hair and tugs on it, yanking your head back, making you yelp and hiss in pain.

"i love the way you hurt me." you rasp out in between rough thrusts and playful bites across your chest; the harsh purple bruises a contrast to your delicate nature. ben grins against your neck as he reaches around and slaps your ass with a groan.

"god, i have really fucked you up, haven't i? my baby, so fuckin' dirty." he chuckles as he leans back and folds his arms behind his head to watch the show you're putting on for him. "show me how much you fuckin' need me and i might let you come on my cock." you claw at his chest with your lilac nails, that match your supe-suit, as you grind down onto him with full force. the sweat cascading down your back and slick covering ben's thick thighs.

that was a pro and con of being supes; you could fuck for hours, but you could also get fucked for hours without room for a breather. you were sure that ben had fucked you stupid after edging you on for what felt like hours as he rides his bennie-filled high and gets to see how you fall apart under him.

"you know that only good sluts get to come on my cock, don't you?" he laughs as you notice your pace slacking, your body soon couldn't take anymore. he forcefully grabs your jaw; his pupils completely blown leaving only a ring of bright green around them. he taps your lips and you open them with a second thought, something that he programmed into you. he spits into your mouth and watches adoringly as you roll it around in your mouth before swallowing it and resuming your previous frenzied pace. his rough hands grab your hips, squeezing your supple skin as he fucks his cock deeper into you. within seconds, you're finally coming all over him as you curse and pant his name like a prayer.

"fuck- nggh, oh my fucking god, ben.. ben, ben!" you shout as he comes with you; the feeling of being filled with him was like no other. he lazily thrusts into you whilst carefully laying you on your back and adorning your face with soft kisses and whispered "good girl"'s. you share one final, deep kiss; filled with unsaid emotions and promises to one another before he lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom to get you cleaned up.

two misplaced puzzle pieces, finally belonging and forming a picture no one else could see.

you weren't sure who affected who more. you had been introduced to the world of desire and sin by ben; he was your first everything and he revelled in that fact. knowing no one had heard or seen you the way he does, fuck. it was like a whole new drug and it's potency was almost deadly. you had gotten more calculated, with his encouragement, and were using your powers for your own good and not just at the behest of whoever held your leash. you confronted your parents and had cut off the contact, although the damage was done. you were still the people's soft princess to the adoring crowds, but you had evolved into something more sinister; more selfish. and nothing could get in your way now.

in comparison, ben had gotten calmer. he didn't throw himself into women, drinking and drugs like before, only occasionally dabbling in taking a hit or two of whatever he had lying around. men like him is what love destroys and his harsh outer layer was slowly eroding. his vicious appetite for destruction and violence needed less feeding and attention. his sole purpose was to protect you and ensure that you both would never be denied the happiness he knew you deserved. he considered what was better; to be feared or to be loved. but he had come to the conclusion that "one should wish to be both, but, because it is difficult to unite them in one person, it is much safer to be feared than loved."

thanks to you, he had both.

a/n: WELL. i hope you like this one too guys; it was so much fun to write and rather self-indulgent. i'm considering ACTUALLY make this fic a series, i love their dynamic. this was based on another favourite song of mine that immediately makes me think of the loml, ben, when i hear it <3 long live fall out boy

-`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @doeinlace (comment or inbox me to be added)

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figthoughts · 17 days ago

Text

jealousy games — dean winchester ⋆˚࿔

summary: after a nasty argument, dean decides to get back at you by flirting with another woman. you take it upon yourself to return the energy.

warnings: smut (with a plot!), oral (f. receiving), jealous/angry dean, angst?, manhandling, est. relationship (dom!bf!dean x gf!reader) 18+

⋆ .𖥔˚

dean’s hand slid higher and higher up the woman’s thigh as you watched from across the bar, your lips threatening to curl into a scowl at the sight. his eyes were on you, and that stupid, proud smirk on his face had you seething as you watched the excited blonde bounce around in the seat next to your boyfriend, giggling at every word that left his lips.

you huffed angrily to yourself and turned to face the bar again, having had enough of his little display. fine. if he wants to play that game, then you’ll play too. no big deal.

you swallowed the last of your drink and slammed it back down onto the bar, eyeing the place for someone suitable. your eyes landed on two men, who were both staring intently at you from their barstools a few seats up. the men were decently handsome and looked like they could take a punch if it came to it, so you flashed them a sweet smile.

the men grinned and turned to each other for a moment, exchanging a few quiet words before standing up and making their way over to you.

“hey, pretty thing. i’m dan… and this is mike,” the taller man greeted and gestured to his friend before leaning on the bar next to you. “you drinking alone?”

you tilted your head up at them and forced out a smile, “mhm, just blowing off some steam.”

the pair nodded and checked you out, eyeing you up and down with matching grins on their faces. “so what’s your name? can we buy you a drink?” mike asked.

you gave them your name and bit your lower lip, watching the men smile in response to your flirting. “actually, i kinda want to dance,” you said, smirking at them.

“oh, yeah? dance? we can dance,” mike nodded slowly, holding his hand out for you.

you chuckled softly, shooting a glance back at dean, before grabbing the man’s hand. “great, let’s go then.”

dean’s mind had completely abandoned the gorgeous blonde sat in front of him. his eyes were glued on you, and they had been since he saw the two men first make their way over to you. dean’s jaw tensed as he watched you lead the guys onto the dance floor, his grip on his beer bottle tightening, turning his knuckles bone white.

“hey, uh— are you okay?” the blonde woman asked, her brows furrowing in confusion as she noticed the scowl form on dean’s face.

“i’m fine,” he responded curtly, his eyes not leaving your figure as he spoke.

he watched the two men circle around you as you danced, like predators stalking their prey. dean could feel the rage beginning to flood his veins. he didn’t like this. not one bit.

as you moved in rhythm with the two men, you could feel dean’s eyes boring into you from across the bar. you could sense the anger in his gaze, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself in satisfaction; you were winning. you were beating him at his own damn juvenile game.

you moved closer to the two men and began grinding along with them to the music, feeling their hands travel over your body, demanding and brash. you shut your eyes and smiled, letting them guide you and your movements.

dean watched on from the table he was sat at, slowly sipping his beer with a sour expression plaguing his face as the blonde tried—and failed—to make conversation again.

but dean’s attention was still on you. he could barely watch as the men let their hands wander all over the places of your body that he knew so well, so intimately. the taller man leaned down and whispered something in your ear, making you throw your head back and laugh. dean’s jaw tensed again. he nearly crushed the beer bottle in his bare hand as he saw you pull the man back down and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his.

then dean caught your eyes as you spun around to face him with a big smug smirk plastered on your face.

that was it.

dean abruptly excused himself from the woman and stood up, heading directly for you on the dance floor with heavy footfalls. you watched him, continuing to smirk as you rested your head on dan’s shoulder.

“we’re going. now.” dean snapped quietly, but firmly enough for you—and the two men—to hear over the hum of the music as he grabbed your upper arm.

“hey, man—” mike moved in front of you and dan, blocking dean from pulling you away.

“yeah,” dean laughed lowly, “i’m not talking to you, buddy.” dean let go of your arm and pulled his back, throwing his weight into a punch, landing a nasty blow on mike’s jaw.

mike stumbled off to the side, his hands immediately grabbing his jaw as he let out a deep pained groan.

“hey!” dan yelled and pushed you behind him. he stepped forward, up to dean, “what’s your fuckin’ problem, man?”

dean laughed again, darkly and unimpressed, but slightly amused by the man’s attempt to defend his friend’s honour. dean found your eyes, ignoring dan entirely, and spoke directly to you, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“i said we’re going. now.”

you laughed and shook your head, “no, i don’t think so. go back to that pretty little blonde.”

you grabbed dan’s shoulder and pulled him back to you, dismissing dean from saying anything further. dan hesitantly wrapped his arms back around you as he watched dean seethe from the corner of his eye.

“baby. now.” dean snapped, his face tightening in anger. “the ‘pretty little blonde’ was nothing. you’re doing too much now, and you know it.”

“do you know this guy?” dan asked you as he glanced between dean, mike—who was still rubbing his tender jaw with a scowl on his face—and you.

you shrugged, “not really. just some guy.”

dean scoffed and ripped dan off of you. dan grunted with widened eyes, clearly not anticipating dean’s strength. he stumbled backwards into mike, who let out another groan.

“some guy, my ass,” dean huffed and got in your face. “we’re leaving. now. let’s go.”

you rolled your eyes, despite his serious tone and expression. you glanced at the two guys with an apologetic look, “sorry, fellas. it was nice to meet you both. sorry ‘bout the…” you gestured towards your jaw.

dean pulled you towards the exit through the sparse crowd of drunken patrons, huffing angrily as you smiled back at the two men, whose faces were contorted in confusion and disbelief at the whole situation.

dean managed to pull you outside into the cool air of the parking lot and shoved you towards the impala. “you think that shit is fucking funny?” he snapped.

you flinched slightly at the roughness of his voice but continued smirking anyways, responding with defiance laced thick in your tone, “yeah, a little bit to be honest.”

“s’not fucking funny. get the fuck in.” dean growled angrily, swinging open the passenger door for you.

you did as you were told, sliding into the passenger seat and rolling your eyes as he slammed the door. dean walked around to the driver’s side and got in.

“how could you let them touch you like that? no one touches you like that but me. got it?” he started the car and turned to you expectantly, waiting for your answer as the engine rumbled in the quiet of the parking lot.

“oh, but it’s fine for you to touch that woman the way you did in there, huh?” you shot back, clicking in your seatbelt.

dean’s face hardened as he began reversing the impala, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. “she was nothing,” he replied with a dangerously low tone.

“oh, yeah? you basically fingerfucking her at that table was nothing?” you snapped in a huff and crossed your arms.

dean pulled onto the main road and scoffed to himself. “yeah, it was nothing,” he said bluntly, keeping his eyes on the dark road ahead.

“i know what you were trying to do, dean.”

“yeah? obviously it worked,” he chuckled back mockingly, taking a moment to glance at your sullen face.

you scoffed and tightened your crossed arms, “fuck you, dean! you’re so immature, you know that? we have one little fight and you just go off and find the biggest bimbo to flirt with just to piss me off!”

“amanda isn’t a bimbo,” dean replied flatly, his tone mocking again, “she’s pre-med, actually.”

“i don’t give a fuck!” you yelled.

“yeah, you don’t give a fuck. that’s why you were practically fucking bert and ernie on the dance floor!” he snapped back in a huff, turning onto a side street.

you felt the anger begin to boil the blood in your veins as he kept speaking, acting like this whole situation wasn’t his fault, which only riled you up further. “well, maybe if you fucking treated me right, i wouldn’t have to go and find assholes to dance around with!”

“treat you ri— are you joking?!” dean scoffed in disbelief and shot you a look. “treat you right? you’re the centre of my goddamn world. i’d die without you. and you wanna cry about me not treating you right. i treat you right,” he growled lowly without taking his eyes off the road, his tone deep and venomous, your words clearly striking a nerve.

you let out a huff and looked out the window. “yeah, right whenever you want something,” you muttered angrily.

dean slammed a hand down on the steering wheel as the motel came into view further down the road, making you flinch slightly at the sudden noise.

“i do treat you right. i’m doing the best i can, damn it!” he turned to you, his expression a strange combination of anger and hurt swirling around on his tense face.

you rolled your eyes, which only seemed to visibly piss dean off more. “the best you can?” you began to raise your voice, “if the ‘best you can’ is flirting with another woman in front of me, then i don’t want your ‘best’, you fucking ass!”

dean shook his head, turning the impala into the motel parking lot. it fell silent as dean pulled the keys out from the ignition. his eyes dropped to his hands in his lap.

dean took in a sharp breath, “get inside.”

you turned your head to him, looking at his tensed jaw and the way his chest moved from heaving out rough breaths. you opened your mouth to begin speaking.

but you were interrupted by dean, “now.”

his voice was low and unsettling. it was disarming, having dean speak to you in a way that you’d rarely ever seen, let alone been on the receiving end of. okay, so maybe you pushed him a little too far with your antics. you knew about dean’s jealousy issues when it came to the people he loved, but to see it play out in real time had your heart racing.

“okay.”

was all you said, before hopping out of the car and walking to the motel room. dean followed quickly behind you and shut the door. he looked at you, his eyes now darkened and his mouth pressed into a firm sneer.

“i don’t wanna talk. i want you to take your clothes off and get on the bed,” dean said, his tone still disarmingly low and calm.

you swallowed softly and nodded—you couldn’t disagree. hell, you didn’t even know if you wanted to. your fingers found the hem of your shirt and you pulled it over your head whilst kicking off your shoes. dean watched as you silently undressed yourself, and he began pulling his clothes off too, still watching your every move like a damn hawk.

dean followed you onto the bed and grabbed your jaw with his rough hands, yanking you towards him. he met your lips with fervour, forcing your mouth open and shoving his tongue against yours, completely and utterly claiming you, reminding you that you’re his. and his only.

his grip on your jaw was tight, and it stayed that way as his other hand travelled down your body, ending up between your thighs. his fingers flicked over your clit, making your hips jerk in surprise as a gasp fell from your mouth.

“no, keep fucking still,” dean muttered against your lips before diving back in, tangling his tongue with yours again.

you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you. dean’s fingers began rubbing your core, forcing a wave of heat to fall over your body and pool in your stomach. he worked his hand between your thighs until he could feel your cunt drool and your folds puff up under his fingers.

he was rough and unforgiving with his hand, rubbing your heat quickly, like he was trying to channel his anger from the car and turn it into pleasure. you whined and whimpered into his mouth, and your legs began to shake from holding yourself up.

dean could feel you beginning to lose composure as you twitched against his hand. he didn’t let you break the kiss or pull away from his touch; his tongue kept dominating your mouth, lapping up your sweet taste mixed with the lingering flavour of alcohol on your tongue.

you hit your climax and moaned slurred mumbles into his mouth as a wave of pleasure crashed over you. he hummed as he felt your wet cunt quiver against his fingers.

dean pulled back from your lips and panted down at you, his free hand still holding your face, keeping you looking up at him. his face was still tense, and his pupils were completely blown out by desire. you could feel the anger and need radiating off him in thick heavy waves.

“you really think i treat you like shit, huh?” he huffed out, pulling his wet hand away from your cunt and roughly shoving you back onto the bed.

you fell back onto the pillows and looked up at him with wide eyes. “dean, i—” you started.

“no,” he interrupted, “that was a rhetorical question. i’d die for you, you know that? a-and you go and say that i’m a bad boyfriend. that i treat you like shit. that i’m not good enough.”

your eyes stayed wide as you took in his anger and the venom—that was barely just disguising the hurt—in his voice. dean shook his head at your silence; he knew his words were cutting deep, but he wanted you to understand how much they’d hurt him.

dean forced your thighs apart, letting his gaze fall upon your puffed up cunt, which was practically begging to be split open and used.

“yeah, a bad boyfriend,” he quipped to himself, shaking his head at how quickly he’d gotten you worked up like usual and how you still don’t even realise how good he is for you, especially like this.

you frowned up at him, watching the anger pull tight at his features. “dean, please. i didn’t mean—”

dean met your eyes again and sneered, “no, i don’t wanna hear it. you don’t say a thing to me, alright? you keep that mouth shut.”

he was dead serious. his chest rose and fell as he kept his hardy gaze on you, his eyes boring into yours.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying to lighten the tension between the two of you. “dean, c’mon—”

he shook his head and delivered a quick smack to your cunt, the hit stinging your sensitive bud, forcing a whimper to escape from your mouth as your hips bucked.

“i said not a goddamn peep,” he repeated. his eyes continued to bore into yours, waiting for you to comply with his words—or not. he was ready to smack you again if he needed to, and you could tell.

so you nodded, not really knowing what else to do with this new side of dean you’d accidentally unlocked. it was unnerving, but exciting at the same time—the way he breathed through his gritted teeth and tensed his jaw, and how his darkened eyes travelled over your form beneath him, almost shrinking you down with his unwavering gaze.

dean swallowed and nodded back at you, “good. i’m not listening to another word of your bullshit. i’m not a bad boyfriend. i fucking love you.”

as soon as his words left his lips, his mouth had found its way between your thighs, attaching itself to your slick cunt. you mewled at his warm tongue lapping at you, and you watched as he worked at your core with fervour once again, practically smushing his face into your wet heat. he worked at you like he had something to prove, like your words held a truth in which dean didn’t want to admit and therefore had to disprove, not only to you but to himself.

he held your thighs apart with his hands, letting the fat of them surround his head, muffling the mewls and moans he was pulling from you.

you watched his eyes flicker up to meet yours for a second. he still looked angry, and it was almost like he was telling you off with his gaze. lay there and take it. let me show you how fucking good i am for you.

dean soon shut his eyes, falling into the pleasure of lapping up your sweet taste on his tongue, desperately pulling your core closer to his face like a man who’d just struck gold between your thighs. he moaned against you, at your taste and the way your hips began to buck up into his face, pleading for more. he held you down against the mattress with his strong grip, his mouth chasing your heat every time you tried to buck back up.

he’d managed to pull two orgasms straight from your core, his tongue licking up your sweet nectar every time you let go against his stubbly jaw. it was like he wasn’t even doing this for you anymore, but instead now doing it for himself, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he never wanted to let you go, like he was in some sort of trance.

“d-dean…. please,” you whimpered out, trying to buck your hips against his face and shove his head away from you, your fingers pushing against his sandy locks. “please, baby. can’t take— take anymore.”

his eyes darted up to your glazed over ones staring right back at him. he took in the way your face was all flushed and your chest heaved like you’d just finished a marathon. pride surged in his chest; a bad boyfriend? yeah, right.

he nipped at your clit, earning a cry from you, and finally pulled away, sitting up on his knees. the lower half of his face glistened with your slick arousal coating his stubble and lips.

you panted out weak whimpers as you looked at each other. it fell silent, and an uneasy tension filled the air around you both. you stared at him cautiously, your eyes flickering between his. you didn’t know what to say.

dean licked his lips and sighed, a heavy tense breath that added to the thick air surrounding you both. “right…” he cleared his throat and shuffled closer to you. he grabbed ahold of his furiously red cock and swiped some precum from his tip, lubricating his shaft as he gently began pumping himself. a gasp fell from his lips, and he looked down at you, watching the way your eyes nervously met his as you awaited his next move, unsure of where his temper sat.

his warm calloused hand grabbed your leg, hoisting it up against his abdomen, your thigh pressing against his soft tummy. you grunted as he tugged you up and watched as he swiped his tip along your slit, earning a breathless moan from you.

“you want this?” he asked, teasing your folds with his member, tapping your bud with his tip.

you bit your lower lip and nodded.

“words. i want you to tell me you want it. that you want me,” he said firmly.

“i want you. ‘course i want you,” you murmured, your eyes flickering between his in earnest.

dean scoffed. your brows pinched together slightly at the sound, and a small strum of hurt moved through you.

“yeah…” was all dean said before he plunged himself into your wet cunt quickly, bottoming out inside you with a rough breath.

a pained moan flew past your lips, and you felt your pussy flutter around him, trying to accommodate the large new intrusion inside you.

dean’s hand gripped roughly at your leg, still holding it up against his torso, keeping you spread open for him. he leaned forward a little and kept his eyes on your face as he pulled his hips back, before slowly thrusting into you again. he watched as your flustered expression morphed into a look of pleasure—despite the lingering twinge of nervousness in your eyes that betrayed your true feelings.

he held you up against him tight, almost painfully so, as he built a rhythm, pumping in and out of you as loud squelching sounds bounced around the room. your already overstimulated cunt wept around his dick, sucking him in like he belonged there, like you couldn’t bear to feel him go.

rough grunts fell from dean’s lips, and his face scrunched up, his hazy green eyes locked on where you two connected. you couldn’t help your own sweet sounds from escaping as he pounded into you quickly.

dean pulled you up against him more, his free hand now grabbing at your lower hip, keeping you up at the perfect angle. his fingertips pressed into the fat of your thigh and his dick pistoned into you, hitting all those gooey spots that had you clutching at the sheets and whimpering at every thrust. his tip pounded against your cervix; it was rough, and you were sure you were going to be bruised in the morning, but the look on dean’s face and the way he throbbed inside your walls made it hard to care.

“d-e-ean!” you cried out, tears forming in your eyes from his harsh strokes. you felt that dizzying warm feeling in your stomach start to grow as you watched the absolute beast of a man above you rut into you like an animal.

dean’s droopy darkened eyes flickered down to yours, and you swore, just for a second, you saw a flicker of that usual dean softness slip through the angry exterior. he kept hissing and grunting with every thrust, not taking his eyes off yours, falling back into that pussydrunk trance.

“take it. just fucking take it. i fucking love you…. and you love me,” he managed to grunt out, his voice winded from plowing into you like a fucking rabid animal.

“i do! ‘course i do! please!” you whined, feeling your body begin to turn to jelly in his grip.

your weak pleas fell on deaf ears. dean didn’t let up his rough thrusts; he continued to piston his swollen angry dick into your sweet cunt. sweat beads formed on his forehead, and his heavy breaths began to turn into deep guttural groans, the sound only soaking you more.

“you fucking love me,” he moaned out, “but you tell me— tell me i don’t treat you right.”

you whimpered, not only at the feeling of your release quickly approaching, but also at dean’s words. he looked so pained as he rutted into you, his features pulled tight in a way you could tell didn’t come from just pleasure alone. the impact of your words in the car had stung him more than you could’ve anticipated, and his face showed that.

“i didn’t— i didn’t mean it! dean, please!” you moaned out hoarsely, feeling guilt begin to stab at your chest.

“i treat you right!” he snapped, adjusting his harsh grip on your thigh, pulling you closer to him—if that was even possible, and you had no doubts your hip and thigh would be speckled with pink bruises tomorrow.

“i know you do!” you cried out at the new angle.

“say it!”

“i— you— mmm,” you sputtered out, barely able to comprehend anything beyond the warm feeling bursting through your core.

“say. it.”

dean’s voice was low and downright scary. you’d never once had dean be so demanding and sinister towards you, or been fucked so roughly by him either. it made your heart race and your body shiver.

“you treat me right, d-dean!” you moaned, letting the hot tears in your eyes finally fall.

“that’s right, i do, baby. i love you. that’s why we’re so good together, yeah?” he replied breathlessly, now with an air of desperation dancing around in his words.

you nodded pathetically at his words, your scrunched up face mirroring dean’s as you both veered on the edge together. dean turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to your ankle and then leaned his head against it as he looked down at your pitiful self. you could feel the sweat from his hairline on your skin and the sparks erupting from the minuscule contact he was finally allowing you to have.

“so close, sweetheart, aren’t you? squeezing me like crazy. just let go. i’ve got you,” he huffed out, his voice a touch softer than before, but still gruff and winded.

his softened tone forced the band in your stomach to finally snap, sending a shockwave of pleasure flooding your body. your pussy fluttered around dean’s cock, clamping down on his throbbing member, triggering his own release. he spilt his pearly white load into your gummy walls, finally slowing down his harsh unrelenting thrusts into a mess of weak movements.

“fuck— fuck, sweetheart,” he moaned gutturally and finally came to a still inside you, “fucking love you.”

dean pressed another hot kiss to your ankle before carefully dropping your leg back down onto the mattress and collapsing on top of you, letting your sweaty bodies finally press against each other. your chest surged with a warm feeling at his weight on top of you, finally feeling his body against yours. he buried his head into your neck, his heavy breaths tickling your skin as you panted together, coming down from the overexertion.

“i love you too,” you mumbled weakly, barely coherent as you shook beneath him. you wrapped your arms around his torso—there was no way you were letting him go, not when it felt so right to finally have him against you like this.

“i know you do, baby. i’m so sorry for today… m’so sorry,” dean murmured weakly into your neck and began pressing gentle kisses just below your ear, his soft earnest words tugging at your heartstrings.

“it’s okay,” you managed to get out, letting your head loll back with your eyes closed. one of your hands found its way to the hair at dean’s nape, and you gently threaded your fingers through it. “i’m sorry too. let’s— let’s not even worry about it, okay? let’s just be here… like this.”

“mmm,” dean hummed against your skin, “can do…”

you hummed in return and laid beneath him, trying to calm down from the high you’d both just reached. your racing heart began to slow down into a steady rhythm, and dean’s breathing against your neck began to settle.

after a short beat of silence, dean spoke up in a soft but playful tone, “hey, sweetheart? i just have to say it. i’m not sorry for punching that asshole in the face.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his words and the cheeky grin you could feel against your neck. he was back. your dean was back. all the previous anger and tension from before had been stripped away completely, and dean’s raspy laughter filled the air with yours.

“yeah, ‘course you’re not, macho man,” you teased quietly, your voice saccharine and soft as you played with his hair.

dean lifted his head to look down at you, his green eyes flickering between yours. he looked almost boyish in his expression; no more creased brows, no more curled lips, or narrowed eyes. just dean. your dean.

“i’d do anything to protect you… to keep you, you know that? i’d punch any asshole in the face for you.”

“well, you know technically it wasn’t for me, it was—”

you grunted as dean’s lips met yours, shutting you up with a gentle kiss, much softer than the rough demanding ones from earlier. you felt him smile into it, and you knew all the animosity had been set aside and forgotten, which in turn, made your own lips curve into a smile.

fig yaps: posting this on valentine’s day feels wrong omg anyways i literally wrote the first two thirds of this in like… november i wanna say???? shit lives in my drafts too long LOL i loved writing angry/angsty dean tho like he just wants to be loved PLS my sweet little lovebug he’s so hot BYE

feedback and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank yaaa <3

✩ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @daylighted @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @dulcescorderitas @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla

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wchswift · 2 months ago

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ଓ The apple pie life

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader Summary: you and Dean are tasked with going undercover as a married couple in a suburban neighborhood to investigate a string of mysterious disappearances linked to a local HOA. Content: fluff, one kiss, angst (kinda), idiots oblivious to their own feelings, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, demons, spells, not proofread, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 4k a/n: I've been keeping this in my drafts for a while now and while life happens and I work on my dofp!logan one shot, I decided to post this :) I hope you enjoy it

mdni 𖤐 18+

“Yeah, no. This ain’t happening.” Dean Winchester stood at the edge of a freshly mowed lawn, surveying the neighborhood like it was a Hellmouth in disguise. Which, for all they knew, it very well could be. Rows of cookie-cutter houses lined the street, each painted in calming shades of beige, sage, or blue. Even the mailboxes were identical. Dean glared at one as if it had personally offended him.

Sam sighed, arms crossed, watching his brother’s tantrum. “Dean, it’s a neighborhood. Not a death sentence.”

“You’re asking me to pretend to be Mr. Suburbia. Me. You know I don’t do...” Dean gestured vaguely at a garden gnome. “This.”

Standing between the two of them, you held a faux wedding photo that Sam had printed for the cover story. “We’re married. You’re a mechanic. I work from home. We moved here for the good schools. Sound familiar?” you said with a smirk, holding the picture up.

Dean snatched the frame and scowled at the image. “I look like a hostage,” he muttered.

“You always look like that,” you shot back. “Now come on, let’s get unpacked. Our ‘friendly neighborhood welcome committee’ is stopping by in an hour.”

Dean groaned, but there was no backing out. Sam had been adamant: five people had disappeared from this very block in the past six months. The only connection? All were new to the neighborhood, and all had been avid participants in the HOA’s activities.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, hoisting a box from the Impala. “But I’m not calling you ‘honey.”

Dean’s idea of "unpacking" consisted of dumping boxes onto the floor and shoving furniture into place like he was playing Tetris with his life. You trailed behind him, trying to make the house look halfway livable. It wasn't easy; the entire setup resembled a sitcom scenario, complete with ruffled curtains and throw pillows that Sam insisted would help you blend in.

Dean picked up one of the pillows, squinting at the stitched slogan: Home Sweet Home. “This thing screams demon bait,” he muttered, tossing it onto the couch.

“Maybe if you acted like a halfway decent husband, it wouldn’t,” you quipped, earning a low chuckle from Sam.

“Yeah, hilarious,” Dean shot back, hauling a box of what appeared to be mismatched kitchen supplies onto the counter. “This is my nightmare, by the way. Thought you should know.”

“It’s not exactly a dream for me either, sweetie,” you replied, stressing the endearment with a sugary grin. Dean’s eye roll could’ve powered the whole neighborhood.

The doorbell chimed just as you finished arranging a vase of fake flowers in the living room. Dean peered through the peephole like he expected to see a mob of demons. Instead, a group of impeccably dressed neighbors smiled back at him.

“Kill me now,” Dean muttered, opening the door.

A blonde woman with a Stepford-wife grin and a clipboard stepped forward. “Hi there! Welcome to the neighborhood! I’m Lana, the HOA president. And these are Sheila and Rick, your next-door neighbors!”

Dean gave his best approximation of a smile, though it looked more like a grimace. “Uh, hey. I’m Dean. This is my—uh—wife.”

You plastered on your most winning smile and shook hands all around. “So nice to meet you all!”

Lana’s eyes swept over the living room, clearly appraising your decor. “You’ve done such a lovely job already! Oh, and Dean, we’ll have our weekly HOA meeting at the clubhouse tomorrow night. We expect all new residents to attend. You’ll come, won’t you?”

Dean opened his mouth, likely to come up with an excuse, but you elbowed him. “We’d love to,” you said quickly.

“Wonderful!” Lana chirped. “I’ll leave you with the neighborhood handbook. Everything you need to know is right here.” She handed over a spiral-bound monstrosity of rules and regulations before bustling off with her entourage.

Dean stared at the handbook like it might explode. “Fifty bucks says they’re part of a cult.”

That night, Sam joined you both in the kitchen, where you poured over the HOA handbook. Sam had come by under the guise of helping you move in but was really playing the role of a nosy family friend who conveniently lived a few towns over.

“Okay,” Sam said, flipping through pages. “This is weird. Every house here has to have a specific type of lawn ornament? And look at this—rules about curfew, holiday decorations, even what kind of car you can park in your driveway.”

“Classic control freaks,” Dean muttered, popping open a beer.

“Or something worse,” Sam countered, pointing to a line about mandatory attendance at neighborhood socials. “People start disappearing, and the HOA gets more power over the remaining residents. It seems like they're under some spell… perhaps they made a pact? Maybe with a demon.”

Dean groaned. “Great. So it’s not just bad casseroles we have to survive.”

“We need to hit that meeting tomorrow,” you said. “Whatever’s going on, that’s where we’ll find the first clue.”

The next evening, you and Dean made your way to the HOA meeting at the neighborhood clubhouse, blending in among the perfectly groomed crowd. Everyone was dressed like they were auditioning for a suburban magazine spread: crisp polos, floral blouses, and smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

Dean leaned closer to you, muttering, “Tell me this doesn’t feel like a Stepford reboot.”

You elbowed him lightly, smiling for the neighbors. “Try to look like you’re not plotting their demise, honey.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, adjusting his flannel like it was armor. “Let’s just hope these people don’t sacrifice newcomers to their God of Lawn Care.”

Inside the clubhouse, Lana, the HOA president, stood at the front of the room, clipboard in hand. She welcomed everyone with her signature cheerfulness, but you couldn’t miss the way her eyes scanned the crowd, lingering on the newcomers—you and Dean.

“Now, let’s get started!” she chirped. “First order of business: Mr. Peterson’s garden gnomes. We’ve had complaints they’re too whimsical.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at you, mouthing, too whimsical? You struggled not to laugh.

The meeting droned on, a mix of petty complaints and rigid enforcement of bizarre rules, until Lana’s tone shifted.

“And finally,” she said, her voice dropping an octave, “a reminder that all residents are expected to attend next week’s neighborhood barbecue. Remember, harmony is our greatest strength. We’re all part of something... bigger here.”

Her words sent a ripple of unease through the room. Most of the neighbors nodded dutifully, but a few glanced nervously at each other. You caught Dean’s gaze, and his expression was sharp, all traces of humor gone.

Later that night, back at the house, you pored over what you’d observed with Sam and Dean.

“It’s not just the rules,” you said, pacing the living room. “It’s the way they act. Like they’re afraid of stepping out of line.”

“And what’s with Lana’s ‘bigger picture’ speech?” Dean added, tossing the HOA handbook onto the coffee table. “She’s definitely hiding something.”

Sam tapped at his laptop. “I did some digging. Lana moved into this neighborhood ten years ago, right before the HOA’s rules got so strict. Before that? No disappearances, no creepy cult vibes.”

Dean frowned. “So she’s the ringleader?”

“More like the summoner,” Sam replied, turning the screen to show an old news clipping. It detailed Lana’s involvement in occult studies years ago. “If she’s behind this, it’s not merely a pact. It’s using the HOA to enforce perfection, as it literally sustains the spell that keeps it anchored here.”

“So, the HOA handbook’s not just a pain in the ass,” you said, glancing at Dean. “It’s the demon’s playbook.”

The next morning, Dean decided to “blend in” by taking his role as a suburban husband to absurd levels.

You came downstairs to find him in an apron, flipping pancakes with an exaggerated flourish. “Morning, sweetheart!” he called, his grin annoyingly smug.

“What are you doing?” you asked, still half-asleep.

“Being the perfect husband,” he said, loading a plate with a stack of slightly burnt pancakes. “You should try it sometime, darling.”

The sarcasm in his tone made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t suppress a small laugh. “If this is your idea of perfection, the demon’s going to smite us before lunch.”

Dean’s antics didn’t stop at pancakes. Later that day, he decided to tackle the front yard—shirtless, of course, because “that’s what husbands do, right?”

You stood on the porch, arms crossed, watching as he wrestled with the garden hose like it owed him money. His flannel was tossed onto a nearby fence, leaving his t-shirt in a crumpled heap in the corner. The summer sun glinted off his shoulders, and despite the ridiculousness of it all, you couldn’t help but stare.

“You know,” you called out, fighting a smirk, “the neighbors are going to think you’re some kind of exhibitionist.”

Dean glanced up, his grin wolfish. “Or they’ll think you’re married to the best damn landscaper on the block.”

“You missed a spot.” You pointed at a section of the lawn.

He mock-groaned, holding a hand to his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “Man slaves away, and this is the thanks he gets? No wonder I’m burned out on marriage.”

“Burned out implies you ever tried,” you shot back, leaning against the doorframe.

Dean’s expression shifted, just for a moment—a flash of something vulnerable, quickly buried under his usual bravado. “Yeah, well... guess I never found the right reason to try.”

The air between you grew heavier, the teasing edge dulled by an undercurrent you didn’t quite know how to address. He broke eye contact first, turning back to the yard. “Don’t just stand there, princess. Grab a rake or something.”

The barbecue was the kind of event you’d have laughed at if you weren’t actively part of it. Neatly arranged folding tables with checkered cloths stretched across the neighborhood park, and neighbors mingled with drinks in hand, every one of them smiling just a little too wide.

Dean leaned against the grill, flipping burgers with the same intensity he used while sharpening knives. “This is a trap. You know that, right?” he muttered, glancing around.

“Obviously,” you replied, sipping a too-sweet lemonade. “But we’re undercover, remember? Try to act like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Dean’s grin was laced with sarcasm. “Oh yeah, I’m having a blast. Love talking about lawn fertilizer and HOA-approved fence heights.”

Just then, Lana appeared beside the two of you, her ever-present clipboard tucked under her arm. “Dean, those burgers smell amazing! And you—” She turned to you with that polished grin. “You’re just glowing, aren’t you? Married life suits you two so well.”

Dean, never one to miss an opportunity, slung an arm around your shoulders. “Well, Lana, we’re just one big, happy couple.” He punctuated the sentence with a quick kiss to your temple, the smug look on his face daring you to react.

You forced a tight smile. “Couldn’t be happier.”

Lana beamed, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Wonderful to hear. It’s so important to maintain harmony in the neighborhood.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “After all, everything falls apart if even one house doesn’t meet expectations.”

Dean’s arm stiffened against your shoulder, his instincts flaring. “Is that right?”

Lana nodded, her expression unreadable. “Absolutely. Well, I won’t keep you. Enjoy the barbecue!”

Once Lana was out of earshot, you and Dean regrouped with Sam near the dessert table.

“She’s hiding something,” you said, cutting straight to the point.

“Definitely,” Dean agreed, setting his plate down. “And what’s with the whole ‘harmony’ thing? She sounded like a cult leader.”

Sam nodded, keeping his voice low. “She is. It is indeed a deal, an exchange. The more the neighborhood conforms to the rules, the stronger it gets. People who can’t meet the standards? They’re the ones who disappear.”

You frowned. “So the HOA rules aren’t just annoying—they’re literally fuel for this thing.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “Well, good news. We’ve got the perfect distraction right here.” He gestured at himself and you with a smirk.

“Perfect distraction?” you repeated.

“Think about it,” he said. “We’re new, we’re not exactly HOA material, and if anyone’s gonna tick off a demon about their precious rules, it’s us.”

Sam sighed. “Just be careful. If the demon gets wind of what you’re doing, it won’t wait for you to break a rule—it’ll come for you directly.”

The first crack in the HOA’s perfectly polished façade came two days after Dean decided to rebel in his own loud, stubborn way. The offending incident? A single garden gnome—brightly painted and flipping the bird—set proudly on your front lawn.

You crossed your arms, staring at the gnome as Dean lounged against the doorframe. “Really?”

Dean grinned, proud as a kid showing off a bad report card. “What? It’s art.”

“It’s bait,” you corrected, shaking your head.

“Exactly.” He smirked, arms crossed. “Lana won’t know what hit her.”

Sure enough, Lana arrived within the hour, clipboard in hand and fury barely masked beneath her painted smile. “Dean, we need to discuss your lawn decorations,” she said through gritted teeth.

Dean stepped outside, wearing the smuggest expression you’d ever seen. “What’s the problem, Lana? Don’t you like art?”

She blinked, momentarily stunned by his audacity, before recovering. “This neighborhood thrives on harmony. Your—choice of ornament—disrupts that balance.”

Dean leaned casually against the porch railing. “Huh. Didn’t see anything in the handbook about freedom of expression being against the rules.”

You watched from the window, biting back a laugh as Lana sputtered, her usual control slipping. She left with a curt, “This isn’t over.”

After Lana stormed off, you expected Dean to be all bravado and quips, but instead, he started fixing the fence. It was such a rare sight that you almost did a double take.

“What are you doing?” you asked, leaning against the porch post.

“Making sure the place doesn’t fall apart,” Dean replied, hammering a nail into place. “If we’re staying here long enough to take down a demon, might as well make it look good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were so handy, Mr. Winchester.”

He smirked, not looking up. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m full of surprises.”

That night, you found Dean in the kitchen, you noticed Dean seemed... different. Focused. Almost like he belonged here. He stirred a pot of chili with a level of precision that rivaled his aim with a gun.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you remarked, leaning against the counter.

Dean shrugged. “I used to cook for Sammy when we were kids. Guess some habits stick.”

The soft admission caught you off guard. For all his bravado, moments like these reminded you of the man underneath—the one who took care of everyone else, even when he didn’t have to.

“This is weird,” you muttered, setting the table.

Dean looked over at you. “What is?”

“You. Doing all this domestic stuff. It’s like you’re... enjoying it.”

Dean shrugged, placing the bowls of chili on the table. “I don’t hate it. Beats getting shot at every day.”

“Guess you’re not half-bad at this husband thing after all,” you teased.

Dean smirked, his usual cockiness back in place. “Don’t let it go to your head, sweetheart.”

Later, the two of you sat on the couch, flipping through channels. Sam had gone back to his motel, leaving you and Dean with a rare bit of downtime.

The sound of the TV faded into the background as Dean spoke up. “You ever think about it? A normal life, I mean.”

You looked over at him, surprised. “Sometimes. Why?”

He leaned back, one hand draped along the back of the couch, his expression unusually serious. “I don’t know. It’s just... this case, all this fake domestic stuff... It’s kinda nice. Not worrying about what’s lurking around the corner every second.”

“You’ve never thought about it before?” you asked gently.

Dean gave a short laugh, his gaze distant. “Nah. Figured it wasn’t in the cards. Even when I was a kid, normal wasn’t exactly in the Winchester playbook.”

His words hung in the air, heavier than you’d expected.

“Maybe it’s not about the cards you’re dealt,” you said softly. “Maybe it’s about finding your own kind of normal.”

He turned to look at you, his green eyes searching yours. For a moment, the air between you felt charged, but he broke the gaze first, his usual smirk returning. “Well, my kind of normal definitely involves better TV shows than this crap.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Fair enough.”

The tender moment passed quickly as the two of you turned back to the case.

The next morning, Sam returned with a crucial discovery. “Lana made a deal with a demon ten years ago. She wanted the perfect neighborhood, and the demon delivered. But the cost? Anyone who doesn’t fit her version of perfection gets sacrificed to keep the deal going.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “So she’s trading lives for lawn perfection? Well, that’s messed up.”

Sam nodded. “It thrives off the conformity she enforces. The more people play by the rules, the stronger the demon gets. The ones who disappear? They’re used as sacrifices to maintain the spell.”

Dean stood abruptly. “Great. So we take down the demon, and her whole Stepford act goes up in flames.” He looked at you. “But first, we gotta piss her off enough to make a move.”

After talkng with Sam, you and Dean turned the dial on your undercover roles.

You started your day loudly arguing in the driveway about “trivial” things—how Dean never folded the laundry right, how you “always” bought the wrong coffee creamer.

Dean played it up like a pro, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “Fine! Next time, you go grocery shopping!”

“Oh, because you’re so busy, huh?” you shot back, struggling not to laugh.

So you two just keeped violating the rules. Determined to push Lana past her breaking point, Dean added strung mismatched Christmas lights across the front porch, even though it was July.

“Dean,” you said, standing in the driveway with crossed arms, “I’m pretty sure even the demon is rolling its eyes at this point.”

Dean grinned as he plugged in the lights, which flickered in a garish rainbow. “Oh, come on, admit it. This is the most fun we’ve had on a case in months.”

You couldn’t argue with that. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re married to me,” he shot back, winking. “You know,” Dean said, leaning in close as you adjusted the strand of blinking lights, “we make a pretty good team when we’re breaking all the rules.”

You smirked. “Better than your pancake-making team, that’s for sure.”

He laughed, the sound rich and unguarded. “Touché.”

Lanas’s car pulled up just as Dean propped his flamingo lawn ornament next to the mailbox. Her expression was a masterclass in repressed rage as she stepped out, clipboard in hand.

“Dean!” she barked, her voice sharp enough to make the neighbors glance over from their gardening.

He sauntered up to her, feigning innocence. “Morning, Lana. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Her smile was brittle, her grip on the clipboard tightening. “We need to talk.”

Dean’s escalating antics had done the trick. By the time night fell, Lana’s perfectly polished demeanor had cracked. She called an emergency HOA meeting, under the pretense of “addressing a disturbance in harmony.”

“You ready for this?” Dean asked as the three of you crouched outside the clubhouse, peeking through a window.

“I’ve been ready since the gnome,” you replied, flashing him a quick grin.

Sam whispered, “Looks like she’s prepping for a ritual. We need to stop her before she completes it.”

Dean nodded. “Sam, you cut off the ritual. We’ll handle Lana.”

“We?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean smirked. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“Not as far as I can throw you,” you shot back, but the teasing tone didn’t quite mask the warmth in your words.

The two of you burst through the clubhouse door just as Lana lit the final candle on an ornate altar covered in sigils. The neighbors, all eerily quiet, stood in a semicircle around her, their expressions blank and glassy-eyed.

“Lana!” Dean called out, his voice cutting through the room. “You forgot to put this on the HOA agenda.”

She turned, her face twisting into something feral. “You don’t understand,” she hissed. “This neighborhood is perfect because of me. Because of what I’ve done!”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, your definition of perfect kinda sucks.”

Lana snarled, grabbing a knife from the altar and lunging at him. You moved instinctively, stepping in to block her path. Together, you and Dean fought her off, moving in perfect sync.

She was fast, unnaturally so, but you matched her step for step, Dean covering your back with practiced ease. At one point, she swung the knife in a wide arc, and Dean caught her wrist, twisting it just enough for you to knock the blade free.

“You good?” he asked, glancing at you.

You nodded, catching your breath. “I’m fine. You?”

“Peachy,” he replied, his grin full of adrenaline-fueled bravado.

Behind you, Sam chanted Latin, his voice steady as he worked to dismantle the ritual. The sigils on the altar began to glow, flickering as the power binding the neighborhood started to unravel.

Realizing she was losing, Lana screamed, “You’ll ruin everything! Without this deal, this place will fall apart!”

Dean shrugged, stepping closer. “Good. Then maybe it’ll feel a little more human.” With a final swing, he knocked her unconscious, the force of it sending her crumpling to the floor.

Sam finished the ritual just as the sigils burned out entirely, plunging the room into silence. The neighbors blinked, their blank expressions fading as they seemed to wake from a dream.

“It’s over,” Dean said, his voice low.

Outside the clubhouse, you leaned against the Impala, catching your breath. The air felt lighter now, the oppressive weight of the neighborhood’s perfection finally lifted.

Dean stood a few feet away, looking at you with an unreadable expression. For once, he seemed at a loss for words.

“You okay?” you asked softly, stepping closer.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” you teased, but the smile you gave him was gentle.

Dean’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Before you could think, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours.

The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotions he’d been holding back—relief, affection, gratitude and something deeper, something unspoken. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Took me long enough, huh?”

You laughed softly, your hand resting against his chest. “Yeah. But worth the wait.”

᭝ ᨳଓ𓂃⋆.

The next morning, as the three of you packed up to leave, Dean was back to his usual self—mostly.

Dean hesitated, glancing at the house. “Gotta admit,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “this whole domestic thing... wasn’t the worst.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you hated it.” Dean smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, turns out I don’t suck at it. Could even get used to it, maybe.”

“You know,” he said, leaning against the Impala as you loaded the last bag into the trunk, “this whole married thing has its perks.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked. “Yeah. Hot meals, shared insurance benefits, someone to remind me when I forget my wallet.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly. “God, you’re insufferable.”

He shook his head, but there was a warmth in his gaze as he looked at you. “Maybe in another life.”

You didn’t answer, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. Dean opened the driver’s side door, his usual cocky grin back in place. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s hit the road.” You climbed in, Dean kissing you on the head before closing the door.

As the Impala roared to life and the too-perfect neighborhood disappeared in the rearview mirror, you couldn’t help but think about Dean’s earlier words. Maybe this undercover mission had been more than just a case.

Maybe, in some small way, it had given both of you a glimpse of what could be.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

#꣖ ີ ꣓ writes.#dean winchester 🪽#dean winchester angst #dean winchester one shot #dean supernatural #supernatural dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x fem reader #dean winchester drabble #jackles #jensen ackles #jensen ackles drabble #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural #supernatural drabble #dean winchester fluff

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dollsltt · 3 months ago

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MAMA, A BIRD BEHIND YOU.

⠀⠀ ᡣ𐭩 ⠀ ⠀⠀angel!reader x dean winchester

sum. just angel!reader having a staring problem, and perturbing dean’s sleep with it.

includes. fluff, pet names (duck, duckling, sweetheart), it’s my first drabble have mercy, english is not my first language.

Dean jolted awake, his heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his chest. He wasn't sure what had disturbed him so much —a nightmare, maybe, or that weird squeaking sound the bunker floor made from time to time— but something felt... off. He blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the drowsiness and blurriness in his eyes. Then he saw you.

You. Fuckin' duck. He thought.

You were standing perfectly still in the corner of the room, your hands clasped together in front of you, staring deeply at Dean.

"What the fuck-" Dean wanted to yell at you, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't used to it. It was maybe the fifth time this week you'd taken it upon yourself to wake him or Sam with your eerie, silent presence. "Duckling, what are you doing here?" he asked as he sat up in bed.

You stared at him for another few seconds, blinking slowly. "You were asleep."

"Yes, I know. It's what people do at night." He rubbed his face, trying to make sense of the situation, and maybe trying to talk some sense into you. "Why are you always just... standing there? Watching me like a damn freak?"

You tilted your head slightly, as though considering your words. "You looked peaceful."

Dean froze, caught between a sense of confusion and sheer disbelief. "You woke me up because I looked peaceful?"

"No," you corrected, your voice as calm as ever. "You woke up on your own. I was merely observing."

"Observing what, exactly?"

For brief moments, you hesitated. Your expression was hard to read, since you just kept staring at him, but that question seemed to have made you think.

"Humans are... fragile. They take on too much. They carry the weight of their sins even unconsciously. I was ensuring that you remained unharmed."

Dean stayed just like you for a few seconds; still and staring, blinking slowly as if the gears in his brain were being dusted off. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to find the words.

"So you were angelically babysitting me?" he said, confused. How was he supposed to take that? Sure, it was... Cute, in a way. His chest tightened fondly at the thought of how much you cared for him, even if you showed it in such a weird way.

But still, it was fucking terrifying to be jumpscared by two shiny eyes staring at his soul in the middle of the night.

"Yes." you said, matter-of-factly, a tiny smile gracing your face, which only made Dean feel his chest tighten even more.

"Listen, sweetheart– I don't mind you watching me sleep, okay? Even if you look like a freak, I don't mind, but you should try to kick that habit. It's not very... uh, how do I say it? Human." Dean tried to explain it as simply as possible, but it was hard when you were looking at him with those big eyes, all wide and paying as much attention as if he were an exotic animal. "You scared five lifetimes out of me standing in that corner like an extra in horror movie. I'm just saying, others might react worse than me."

You blinked and looked down at your hands. "I didn't intend to frighten you. I'm simply drawn to your existence." You said softly. "If you would rather, I may go."

Dean shouldn't feel bad, but he did. It was like scolding a puppy for chewing on a shoe. He knew you were getting used to the Earth and how humans coexisted with each other, it wasn't entirely your fault you were a social misfit.

"Stay if you want," Dean flopped back onto his pillow with a groan, covering his face with his upper arm. "But I'd recommend you try doing other things while Sam and I asleep, believe me, anything is better than watching two idiots snore." He yawned.

Dean peeked out from behind his arm to watch you move toward the door, though you threw one last glance over your shoulder.

You hesitate, moving your lips as if you want to say something else. Finally, you nod. "Very well. Sleep well, Dean." Your gaze lingered for a moment, soft and curious, before vanishing down the hallway.

As soon as you left, Dean exhaled noisily. "Angels," he muttered, covering his head with the blanket. "Fucking weirdos."

a/n: hii hiii hello this is my first drabble, hope y’all like it :) i’m doing sam’s version soon cuz my boy deserves to be disturbed by the angel too

#🦢݁ kei’s writes!#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x angel!reader #supernatural #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester one shot #spn one shot

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daylighted · 3 months ago

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dean winchester x angel!reader — innocence is a virtue.

or, how on earth is he supposed to corrupt you? you? or, dean's newest passenger princess is killing him slowly and violently.

cw, fluff but with sexual elements. mostly fluffy though. reckless driving DO NOTTT do this!! professionals only!! dirty minded!dean. honestly just horny!dean really. innuendos galore.

word count : 2.9k

notes, guys can i be so honest i have not even gotten to the seasons where angels come into spn. this is all based on the lil bits n pieces i know of the future stuff ok. ik i'm a fraud but BE GENTLE IF IT'S OOC OR ANYTHING < /3

req. by anon & in honor of kas's dean & angel fics bc i LOVEEE them

★ ˚⋆

dean, honestly, had never met someone quite like you. when he'd told cas in passing that he was about the most naive, innocent thing he'd ever met, all he did was give him one of those looks he reserved only for dean. he thought, then, that it was just because he was being a bit of a shithead, and cas was telling him without telling him so.

very quickly, he found out how wrong he was about both of his assessments.

the day you came down to earth and graced everyone, literally, with your presence, dean was smitten. never before had he met someone so sweet. so honestly pure. until you, he thought that purity was nothing but an ideology based on impossible feats. a pipe dream and a half for the faithful. no, the reality was that he just hadn't met you yet.

sam was pouring himself into research, too focused to realize that dean was all but whittling away in his starvation, so when he offered to go grab some cheap shit from the diner a few minutes from the motel, all he got in response was a mumble of agreement and a wave of his hand from him.

but you, who'd been sitting on the motel bed, stiff as if you had something stuck up your ass holding you in place, turned to him and asked to come with. that struck dean off kilter immediately, because he hadn't been asked for anything in a long ass while. sam just usually assumed he'd be writing shotgun wherever they went. john — no, he'd never ask his son anything, usually buried that sentiment in harsh demands and orders. cas asked him lots of questions, but permission was not often one of them.

and when he looked at you, read over your features and saw the genuineness in your wide, expectant eyes... god, how could he say no?

so you sat there in the passenger seat. dean had to buckle you in with a joke that flew right over your head — another joke you would not get, even though he was fucking killing it with them right now — about not wanting to send you flying if they got into a wreck.

you proceeded to unbuckle and buckle and unbuckle again a few times, seemingly fascinated with the click of the mechanism. dean wanted to be annoyed. genuinely. if sam had started pulling this shit, dean would have pulled over and drove a few feet ahead as a warning to cut it the fuck out.

but with you, it was adorable in its own right. god, it was! somehow it surprised you, every time it clicked, even if you'd already done it eight times. like, how did anyone expect him to get pissy at you when you were doing those sharp, surprised gasps every few seconds? a few more times and he'd be pulling over to give you something to gasp at, he thought idly.

and then winced, scrunching up his face, when he realized how deep in the gutter his head was. no, he wouldn't touch you. wouldn't even try to plant that idea in your pretty little head.

dean didn't want to corrupt you. if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he wanted to keep that pretty little head as clear as his nose was, alright? he wasn't going to be the one to break you into what this world was, its hardships and its cruelties — and its more deviant pleasures.

but fuck, you made it so hard to keep his head straight.

you did this thing, he realized too, on that silent, clicky drive, where you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth when you were in deep thought. thought about what, fuck if he knew, because if you said something to him in the moments that he watched you do it, he'd never know. he was watching your mouth but not to listen.

dean was about to start reprimanding himself in his head, for what must have been the third time already, when you said something, nearly making him slam on the brakes in his surprise.

"how are you doing this?" you asked, as if that wasn't the vaguest question he'd heard in his entire life.

dean blinked a couple of times as he waited for elaboration that never came. he switched hands on the steering wheel, resting his right loosely over the gearstick. "doing..." he trailed off, shaking his head slowly in a gesture to make you keep talking, "what, exactly?"

you did not catch the hint, and he was probably a fool for expecting you to. it took a few more seconds of you staring very intently at his thighs for you to speak up, and by then, he was fucking squirming in his leather seat, trying to not let it get to either of his heads that you were so blatantly staring at his dick.

"this," you answered, twinges of frustration evident in your tone. he couldn't blame you. he was getting frustrated in this car ride, too. "making it move."

christ. he was going to hell. he was going to hell again, this time because of his own drifting thoughts.

"you're gonna have to be a little more clear, dove," he managed through his teeth, voice strained, "'cause i don't think we are on the same train of thought right now."

another blink, and another few seconds pass. your hand shot up in his direction and he flinched, honestly flinched, convinced from the filthy thoughts circling in his head that you were about to grab him by the—

"this," you repeated, and he almost bristled at the attitude, almost told you off about virtues or whatever, when he finally got it. your arm stuck out in gesture to his legs, which pushed the gas pedal and rested against the doorframe, as he drove.

dean closed his eyes briefly, metaphorically swapping his metaphorical wrist for his headspace. he was not, was not, the person that should be introducing you to this world.

dean shifted again, bringing his left leg closer to the leather seat as he readjusted into more of a comfortable position. he hadn't even realized how tense he'd gotten on this short car ride until now. he was as straight backed as you were, and breathing just as slow. "driving?" he asked anyways, like an idiot.

"driving..." you repeated, like the word was as fascinating to you as the process was. "how?"

the diner sign was right there. it was teal and glowed, retro in style, announcing benny's bistro as open.

he drove past it.

dean knew that you did not sign up for a driver's ed course with him with your question, knew even more that he was risking his baby for a pathetic attempt at flirting with someone who did not even know the definition of the word, but to hell with it. you'd asked to come along with him, and therefore placed yourself in his hands for his guidance. the least he could do was make some sort of effort, couldn't he?

"c'mere," he grumbled once he'd pulled baby off into an unassuming back road, parking it dead in the center. you'd need all the open space. he patted his spread thighs a couple of times.

your stupidly pretty pink lips sucked into your stupidly straight teeth. fuck. "why?"

"just—" he cut himself off when he realized he was about to get snippy. you didn't deserve snippy. he was just hungry and horny and you were pretty and he was...

he was pathetic. looking for reasons to get you into his lap. he'd already been to hell, what are they gonna do, drag him back by his ear?

"just do it," dean finished on a sigh, his hand dropping to the front of his leather seat, grabbing the handle and shoving the seat back as far as it could go. there you were, staring at his dick again, making him feel hotter and more bothered.

he felt his heart stop solidly in his chest when you started to climb over the middle console, so oblivious to the faceful of ass he was getting. dean was practically praying to god at that point. he knew he'd been a shit until then, and definitely a sinner by every means, but if he could grant him a little fucking strength—

you plopped your happy little ass right between his muscular, jean-clad thighs. you were warm, was his first thought. he was screwed, was his second.

"what now?" you asked him, that innocent lilt to your voice as you did, and he felt like a dirty little freak for wanting to bend you over the steering wheel moments before ( who was he kidding? for still wanting to bend you over the steering wheel ).

dean took both of your hands and placed them on the steering wheel. once he'd closed your fingers around the wheel, he dropped his hands to your thighs.

"this one," he patted the left one, and nearly went molten behind you, when you lifted that thigh and placed it on his palm. "nuh uh," he tried to lightly correct, "this one you don't use. jus' keep it out of the way." dean's voice was strained in his ears, in his throat.

you slipped your thigh out of his grasp, pressing it up against the inner of his own thigh, your foot tucked around his ankle. you were so trusting and compliant. he was so, so screwed, and so, so awful for thinking about breaking that sweet naivety.

"this one," he said, patting your right thigh, and when you didn't move it this time, he smiled, just a little, to himself. "you use to make it move."

the flush on your cheeks that followed his tease was so damn pretty it took his breath away.

he lifted his leg, not able to reach the pedals with you sat between them and his seat all the way back. he pointed his boot at the left pedal, knowing you were watching each of his movements intently. "that's the stop pedal. push it down to stop." he repeated the process he'd done with your legs, boot pointing at the right pedal as he explained it. "that's the ignition."

pause.

"that's the go," he corrected, sparing you any momentary confusion and any more questions, he hoped. dean could not keep sitting here idle with you between his legs. "makes the car drive. harder you push, faster it goes."

hell, hell, hell. he wasn't going to hell, because he was already in it, strung up and burning.

"i'll handle the gears," he added quickly, when he caught your head turning downward to the shift stick. "don't wanna overwhelm that pretty little head of yours, dove, with too much at once."

dean rested his right hand on the gear stick, his left hand gripping the handle on the driver's door for dear life. he needed the support; you were driving him up a wall with his claws out, and you were about to be driving him. driving his baby. it took a lot of coaxing from sam for dean to let sam behind the wheel. all you did was ask how do you make it move? and he was letting you drive.

you. who did not even know what a car was. who was learning how to drive literally that moment.

god help him. he'd prayed more in this fifteen minute drive than he had in years.

you pressed down on the gas pedal, and the car revved all pretty and loud. dean watched with bated breath as the response to your efforts registered in your head, the way your eyes lit up in that curious glimmer, the fucking teeth biting on your lip.

once you let up, he pushed on the gear stick's release, and tugged it down from park to drive. the car slowly began to move down the dirt path.

you slammed the brakes so hard that his head knocked into the back of your shoulders. "fuck, dove, gentle."

and you were, when you shifted your foot over to the gas pedal again. you pushed it down on it tentatively, the car starting to glide down the dirt road, the sound of pebbles grinding beneath the tires.

"better," he mumbled in your ear, leant forward to keep his eyes on the windshield. it's not that he didn't trust you, he just... yeah, he didn't trust you. "just like that, dove."

the praise, though, goes in one ear and out the other, because the gentle ease of baby's tires along the road is interrupted by you slamming the gas. the tires squeal. clouds of dirt and dust puff out from behind the car as it takes off.

dean's heart went from in his ass to in his throat in a manner of a second. "whoa, whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed, a nervous laughter bubbling out of his throat. "slower, slower, will ya? crashin' in the middle of nowhere is the last—"

you hit the brakes again, still hard but less this time. just enough to send his head knocking into your shoulder again as the car slowed.

slowed, but still headed toward the ditch. "right, see your hands?" he asked, chin nuzzling into the plush spot between your neck and your shoulder so he could see better. "twist 'em. nice n' gentle for me, to your left, yeah, good girl. makes the whole car move, yeah? jus' keep it on the dirt, not off "

you follow his instructions, and dean feels a swell of pride at this. maybe he should have gone into driver's ed or some shit. he was a good ass teacher.

"like this?" you asked, drawing him out of his self glazing. your voice, soft and hesitant, breathless with your excitement, has his chest heaving.

"yeah, dove, jus' like that," he rasped, his left hand moving from the doorframe to rest where your thigh met your hips. the car kept its slow pace down the long dirt road, and for the first time since you'd gotten your hands on the wheel, his heart doesn't feel like it's pounding in his throat. "no, no, don't stop. keep goin', you're doing so good for me."

his phone starts to buzz in his pocket, and like that, his self indulgent driver's ed lesson comes to a screeching halt. "you jus' keep on going like this, alright?" he asked you, patting your hip with his hand before he reluctantly let go.

he definitely answered the phone with more attitude than necessary. couldn't help it. he was having a great time. "what, sam?"

"everything alright?" sam asked, and then dean felt like a prickhead for giving him shit at all. "s'been thirty minutes."

dean sighed, his eyes lifting again to look out the front windshield. a stop sign was quickly approaching, and you didn't even need his guidance for that. you were slowing to a stop all on your own. he was so fucking proud, it was sick. "all good. long line at the burger place."

it was dead empty, four miles back.

"we'll be back in a few, alright? chew on one of your books or somethin' while you wait, make 'em useful."

"dean—"

he hung up before he could hear sam's sighed response.

his hand fell to your waist again, squeezing lightly to stop you from lifting your foot off of the brake just yet. "play time's over. calvary's callin' us back."

dean pushed the gear stick into park again before he moved both of his hands to your hips, helping guide you back into the passenger seat.

he adjusted the seat again, his hands finding their typical place on the wheel. he did a very illegal u-turn at the four-way intersection and headed back down the road that you'd driven him down.

"have fun?" he asked after a beat, eyes flicking over to see you. you looked so pretty in the orange glow of the sunset, your face lit up in deep gold.

you turned to meet his eyes, and he had to look away quickly, the bright glimmer of adrenaline in them knocking all the wind out of him. "yes."

"good." dean meant it. there were so few things he'd risk everything for, but that toothy smile of yours jumped to the top of that list.

"dean?" your voice rung out again, earning him another glance your way in acknowledgement. "what part of the car was in my back the whole time?"

dean faltered, eyes blinking in a bout of surprise and lips parting, searching for a response he did not have. his eyes dropped down to his lap for a second, dread and embarrassment pooling like ice water in his stomach at what he hoped wasn't— yeah. yeah, it was.

"i dunno, dove," he mumbled through his teeth, staring straight ahead, fingers tapping on the steering wheel, doing basically anything to not meet that curious look of yours. especially knowing you'd have your lip in your teeth all over again. "might have t'take it to the shop, while we're in town... get it checked out or somethin'..."

he was so damn screwed.

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4nicholas @deanswidow @deansbite

#──★ dahlia's jrnl #──★ dean x saga #dean winchester x angel!reader #jensen ackles #dean winchester #angel!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #spn #supernatural #supernatural one shot #spn one shot

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mariswxt · 3 months ago

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topgirl

We’ve all seen Dean’s demon form dominating humans, BUT WHAT IF HE WAS TOPPED BY A DEMON?

“Sugar, c’mon.” Dean groaned, his head tipping back against the headboard. Ugh, this felt so emasculating, your back against his chest, covers up, book in your hand— oh yeah, and his cock nestled inside of your pussy, unable to move because you wouldn’t let him.

You gently slapped his thigh, instantly stilling him and not even batting an eye — externally — as the tip of his cock brushed your cervix, absentmindedly flicking a page in your book. “Nope, baby, gotta stay still.”

Normally he’d be super smug when having a girl warm his cock, but right now he was frustrated, and mad, and god, it felt so good. Why did it feel so good doing this? Honestly, he got his rocks off on making girls scream and now this demon lady was making him feel like a fucking lamb.

“Fuckin’ hate you.” He murmured, eyes closing as he focused on how the walls of that pretty pussy were nestled around his cock at the right angle, the warmth making his stomach tingle and his nerve endings light on fire, his hands gripping your hips, feeling like a steel band and also a bomb ready to go off and make you scream with hard thrusts.

You raised an eyebrow, shifting slightly on purpose to elicit a groan from him, biting your lip to stifle a giggle— yeah, that really didn’t work out, you snickered anyway. “Awh, that’s cute, but we both know that ain’t true. You want this pussy.” Oh, yes, he did, and the way you purposefully squeezed him with your cunt only confirmed that.

A whimper escaped him. A whimper.

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deansbeer · 3 months ago

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diet pepsi ・ DEAN WINCHESTER. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ pinned library

SYNOPSIS. you and dean finally cross the line from best friends to lovers, giving in to the undeniable passion between you.

KARI NOTES. this is dedicated to my love, bree @titsout4nicholas <3 i know i know, it took me forever to get it out, but it's here !!! it's soft smut, so i'm sorry if it isn't the usual filthy smut yall were expecting.

YOU WATCH THE RAINDROPS RACE DOWN the impala's window, counting each one that reaches the bottom first. the gentle patter of rain against metal and glass creates a soothing rhythm that matches your heartbeat. dean pulls into an empty rest stop, the headlights cutting through the darkness and reflecting off the wet pavement.

"wait here, i'll be right back," dean says with that signature smile of his before stepping out into the rain.

you pull dean's worn brown leather jacket tighter around your shoulders, breathing in the familiar scent of leather, gunpowder, and his cologne. he'd draped it over you earlier when you'd started shivering. being dean's best friend means knowing all his little gestures of care — the way he shares his jacket, checks the salt lines twice around your motel room, brings you your favorite snacks.

through the foggy window, you watch him jog to the vending machine, his boots splashing in puddles. the blue glow illuminates his face as he feeds quarters into the slot. a few moments later, he's sliding back into the driver's seat, water droplets clinging to his hair and eyelashes.

"here you go, sweetheart," he says softly, pressing the cold diet pepsi can into your hands. "your favorite."

"you remembered," you smile, touched by the simple gesture. dean remembers everything about you — how you like your coffee, your favorite songs, the way you scrunch your nose when you're thinking hard about something.

"'course i did. what kind of best friend would i be if i didn't?" he winks, starting up baby's engine. the familiar rumble surrounds you both.

dean drives down empty backroads, streetlights casting intermittent golden glows across his face. you share comfortable silence broken only by quiet classic rock from the radio and occasional sips of your soda. these are the moments you treasure most — just you and dean and the open road.

"you're special to me, you know that?" dean says suddenly, glancing over at you. "my baby."

your heart flutters at the endearment. coming from anyone else, it might feel patronizing. but from dean, it feels like being wrapped in warmth and safety and belonging.

"you're special to me too," you whisper back.

dean reaches over and squeezes your hand gently. you lace your fingers through his, marveling at how perfectly they fit together. maybe someday you'll be ready to cross that line between friendship and something more. but for now, this is enough — sharing quiet moments in his beloved impala, drinking diet pepsi, and knowing that no matter what supernatural threats you face, you'll face them together.

the rain continues as baby carries you both through the night, towards whatever adventure awaits. but in this moment, you're exactly where you want to be — by DEAN WINCHESTER'S side, his best friend, his baby.

as the downpour continues, creating a steady rhythm against the impala's roof. dean turns onto a secluded side of the road, the trees creating a canopy overhead. he kills the engine and turns to face you, his eyes dark and full of longing. next thing you know. you're both in the backseat of baby.

you swallow, your heart pounding in your chest as he leans in, gently brushing his lips against yours. you part your lips, letting out a soft moan as his tongue explores your mouth. your hands find their way to the short spiky strands of his hair, tugging softly as the kiss deepens.

dean pulls back, his forehead resting against yours. "you sure about this?" he whispers, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.

you nod, looking him in the eyes. "yeah. i want this. i want you."

he kisses you again, his hands roaming over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. you arch into him, your body on fire with need.

dean breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy. "we can stop anytime you want," he says, his voice gruff.

you shake your head, your hands pulling at the hem of his shirt. "i don't want to stop. not now. not ever."

he helps you out of his worn brown leather jacket, your shirt and expertly unclasps your lace bra, his eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of your bare upper body. he leans down, his lips finding your breasts, his tongue teasing your nipples. you gasp, your back arching as pleasure shoots through you.

dean's hand travels down your body, his fingers finding the waistband of your jeans. he looks up at you, waiting for your approval. you nod, biting your lip as anticipation builds.

he slowly removes them, his eyes never leaving yours. he kisses you deeply, his hands exploring your body. you moan into the kiss, your hands gripping his shoulders as he touches you in ways you've only ever dreamed of.

dean's fingers find their way inside your tight pussy, your body clenching around him as he finds your sweet spot. you gasp his name, your body trembling as pleasure builds.

"oh, de," you moan softly, a little out of breath from the intensity of it all.

he increases his pace, his thumb circling your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. you cry out as you come undone, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

dean waits until you come down from your high before removing his own worn out faded jeans. he quickly rolls on a condom, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he wanted to devour you whole. he entered you slowly, carefully, giving you time to adjust. you let out a soft gasp, your pussy clenching around him.

you wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer as he starts to move. he moved within you, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. the impala rocked gently beneath you, the rhythm of your bodies matching the rhythm of the car, and the sounds of soft skin slapping fill the air. you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

you cried out his name as you come undone, your pussy convulsing around him. dean follows soon after, his body trembling as he releases deep inside you. he collapsed on top of you, but made sure he wasn't crushing you underneath his body. his breathing was heavy, holding you close, and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

the two of you lay there for a long time, tangled together in the backseat of the impala, the silence broken only by the sound of your breathing. the world outside the car slowly came back into focus, the dark trees blurring in the distance. you looked up at dean, his face softened in the dim light.

he smiled down at you, a gentle, loving smile. "y'okay?" he whispered, pressing gentle kisses all over your cheeks, nose, and eyelids.

you wrap your arms around him, nodding. your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. "'m perfect," you whisper, your lips brushing against his ear.

he kisses you softly and pulls back to admire you again, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. "you're amazing, baby," he whispers back, his eyes full of love and adoration.

you snuggled closer to him, his body warm and comforting. in that moment, in the backseat of the impala, surrounded by the quiet still of the night. you both lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the rain continuing to pour outside. and for the first time in your life, you feel truly content, truly happy. you know that no matter what comes your way, you'll face it with dean by your side.

you're finally his. his baby. his girl.

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thesilmarillionblog · 4 months ago

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WICKED MIND ─ Dean Winchester

When he wakes up in the middle of the night, Dean can't resist masturbating while thinking about you.

+18! (Minors DNI), smut, male masturbation, wicked and dirty thoughts, kinky (it's just smut, sorry)

Word Count: 1187

A/N: English is not my first language. divider credit

Dean grumbled in frustration and opened his eyes again, unable to sleep well. He felt like a child who was struggling to fall asleep. It was an unbelievable agony to be so exhausted and yet be unable to sleep. Since he was busy with practically everything every day and coping with every bizarre one, he was positive that his body screamed for some rest.

It was about three in the morning when he looked at the clock. God. His eyes burned. Throughout his thirty-five years of life, Dean had never experienced insomnia, but now he did.

When an idea struck his head, he scowled. Years had passed since he'd jerked off to quickly fall asleep. Dean was unable to stop thinking about how terrific it felt. Why not? He had read and understood his body to help his eyes get the rest they required, and he didn't have drugs to use at the moment. Moreover, he hadn't gotten off for fun in quite some time. These days, Dean's sexual life is actually active, and he hasn't needed to help himself lately.

Plain and simple, things had changed. It would be just to get some sleep. Nothing more. To tell himself that he didn't like helping himself would be a lie. It was always enjoyable.

After inhaling deeply, Dean moved the blanket away from his body and slightly lowered his boxers to reveal his partially hard cock. He assumed that he might not be able to sleep because of his cock. It didn't matter though. Now he would take care of this.

Dean spat in his palm, then wrapped his cock with his rough fingers. His head turned to his cock, and his abs tightened. He licked his lips and started pumping himself, eager to get it done very quickly. His thoughts were instantly filled with pictures of you as he stroked his cock. 'Fuck' he thought to himself. Now, that was unexpected.

Realizing it would be tougher than he had anticipated, he spit into his hand a little more before tightening his fingers around his cock. He had a cock that was hard enough to keep him awake, but it was clearly stubborn. Come. On. Dean's thumb stroked his already hard cock's purple head as he bit his lips fiercely. He was now about completely erect. Almost.

He was taking heavy breaths, nearly grunting, as his mind started to play games on him. Dean couldn't stop picturing your ass and physique. It was difficult to not notice or forget the picture of you playing 8-ball pool yesterday. You looked lovely there.

It was enough to make his cock completely hard. Just think about how you bent before you took your shot and how the stick waited between your fingers.

When Dean could no longer resist his demons, he gave up and allowed his thoughts to take control, concentrating on the pictures that were racing through his head. At that point, it didn't matter how awesome his hookups were. There was something unique about the way your ass appeared as you bent your body. Perhaps it was because the two of you were simply buddies. It was Fobbiden's thrill that made him feel like this. After all, the forbidden always tasted delicious.

Dean considered lifting your dress up and putting your underwear aside. What color would you be wearing? Most likely green or pink. After all, you were fond of pastel colors. Pink would be preferable.

As he visualized your pussy, his fingers tightened around his aching cock harsher. Dean had no doubt that you would take him well. However, he would make sure you sucked him well before giving you a hard fuck on the table. God. It would look great with your little mouth around his cock. He heaved his balls after groaning as his thumb continued to touch his cock's head and lingered around the thick veins. Dean grunted while he drifted off into his own thoughts. Whether that was the appropriate thing to do or not didn't matter to him.

He needed that.

You would get moist there from the way he would fuck your mouth and throat. He would spill against your face and throat since he knew you would also like finishing him off and tasting him. He would push your head to his cock and put his hands behind your hair to make you give him all of your attention. He knew that you could take him all. You would moan around the head, suck the salty cum, and swirl your tongue around it. Fuck. Dean imagined fucking your face with both hands behind your head. As he pictured how he would handle your lovely mouth, he was firmly biting his lips.

The obscene sounds his hand made while he beat his cock were driving him insane. He knew he could hear the similar sounds once he started to fuck you raw and his heavy balls hit your pussy from behind.

He was average there—not very long. However, he was sufficiently thick, which was something of which he was proud. His cock was fat and heavy. Dean imagined your walls constricting around him.

He slowed his hand to extend the process and enjoy a little extra fun just as he was getting close. He swiftly grabbed his phone and opened one of your photos. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but fuck it. No one would know, and there was no way of going back. As soon as he was asleep, he would forget about it.

When Dean saw one of your 8-ball pool pictures, he let out an uncontrollable groan. "Fuck," he said. When you played it, you looked beautiful. He looked at your ass and concentrated on the way you bowed. Grasping the back of your neck on the table, he would swiftly and aggressively fuck you while placing his hands around your hips and pounding hard into your tiny pussy.

Dean spat his palm again, and his motions became more intense and faster. He was staring at your photo as he groaned; he was thrusting into his hands rough. He whispered, “Good girl,” unable to stop talking this time.

"I'll fuck you so good, fuck your tiny pussy against that table so fucking good... Fuck. Take me."

He should be ashamed for acting in such a way. But he was absorbed in the right now. Dean knew he was about to finish because his cock was throbbing now. “Let me fill you; let me come inside you, baby.”

As he continued to stare at your photo, Dean's cock began to throb, and he felt the hot ropes against his bare chest and hands. In order to make sure there was nothing left in his hefty balls, he continued to stroke himself while groaning. Then, enjoying the experience, he set his phone aside and stoked himself a bit more. When he was done, shame was starting to rise, but he made an effort to dismiss it. Dean stared over his chest, panting fiercely. His entire body was covered with his hot white ropes.

He was a mess.

AN: SOrry. Let me know what you think loll

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soldiersgirl · 8 days ago

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— 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 .ᐟ

summary — life had always been cruel to ben; littered with betrayals, heartbreak, guts & glory. somehow, despite it all, the one thing he thought he had lost and could never experience, turned out to be his saving grace. (inspired by this post)

cw — fem!reader x girl dad!soldier boy, 18+ (hints of sex, wrap it before u tap it) established relationship (married). soft ben, fluff, angst, kissing, daddy kink (kinda), smoking, mentions of daddy and mommy, mentions of ben's trauma and war, mentions of drug use.

word count — 2,138 words

ben couldn't count on one hand the amount of trials and tribulations he had been subjected to over his long, arduous existence, but he needed the other one to hold and keep himself anchored to you.

it had all started out innocently. much like the other members of the boys, you were indifferent to ben. but soon enough, you discovered that you two couldn't stand each other, let alone be in the same room without going at it and screaming about "the importance of having a moral backbone" while he told you to go "shove your fuckin' modern values!" in return. but as time does with most things, it eats away at anger and suddenly, after a long day at the office and going over missions, you would retreat to the roof together and share a cigarette between the two of you. words were rarely spoken, but you grew to understand each other just a little bit more with each inhale and exhale of your shared vice.

his complexity perplexed you and you found yourself wishing to understand the man under the armour. how ben had become soldier boy and lost himself along the way.

during one particular cold night, up on the flatiron building roof, he laid it all out to you. he had told hughie and butcher a few bits, here and there, but you got the full picture. all you did was nod in return, not offering any comments like others did. ben couldn't read you and it freaked him the fuck out. he had quite the knack for getting under people's skin and staying there, gnawing on their insecurities and break them down. but when you comfortingly laid your hand on his and he didn't flinch, he knew there was something about you that he possibly wouldn't find again.

within a few tough and challenging months, for both of you and the boys as a team, you and ben had turned to finding comfort in one another. each night, either at his place or yours, you would intertwine your limbs and entangle your tongues with no care for the world around you. he would get lost in your gentle mewls, your soft pleading as he would pound into you and fulfil all your dirtiest fantasies, without a second thought.

you managed to keep your... situation quiet for a while from the others, knowing that no one would approve of it; why complicate things when everything is a already a nightmare with vought and homelander? but when the boys abruptly came back from a mission and walked in on ben taking you from behind on your own desk; you knew you couldn't keep it under wraps anymore. hell broke loose. insults were hurled. computers were thrown, mainly by ben, and you were both told that it wouldn't last long. but you managed to prove them wrong; much to your own surprise.

loving ben wasn't a walk in the park. nothing about ben was ever easy. but when your fingers interlocked and he bared his soul to you, all his worst nights were worth it. the nights filled with long discussions, ingrained toxic reflexes, harsh empty words.

"you need to cut off the fucking pills, ben! i swear to god, i'm gonna flush them down the fuckin' toilet!" you yelled as you held the baggie over the toilet, shaking them, daring him to come closer.

"you're batshit! actually, insane! i should've listened to butcher when he said i shouldn't get involved with someone like you!" he pointed his finger accusingly, a deep scowl on his face.

always turned into...

"i'll never find someone like you." ben sighed as he cradled you close, your heartbeats in sync and your breaths shallow after you furiously apologise to each other. you peer up at him and caress his exhausted face, loving how he leans in and seeks your touch.

"i love you." you stated. his eyes flew open, revealing his moss-green irises as they softened at the sight of you. he exhaled as if the weight of the world fell off his shoulders and his usual scowl turned into a wide, toothy smile as he rested his forehead against yours.

"i love you too, sweetheart." he kissed the tip of your nose and nestled himself deeper into you. he loved you like he did everything else; fiercely and loudly and he was sure he could never love someone like he did you. until he met her.

for weeks and weeks, this was the moment it had all been leading up to this. the final showdown between ben and homelander. you had felt incredibly nauseous for weeks, watching ben the boys strategise and devise their attack plans. it must the anxiety, the fear of the great unknown beyond their fight. until you couldn't deny it anymore. three pregnancy tests stared back at you, the severity of the situation seeped into your bones and overtaking your senses.

you stepped out and admired ben's broad back as he pulled on his suit, buckled his knee pads and gave his shield the once over before sliding it onto his back.

"are you gonna stand there all day or am i a lucky enough of a bastard to get a kiss from my girlfriend?" he hummed before turning around and giving you that infamous smirk. his smile faltered immediately as he noticed your frail composure and the look of absolute fear etched on your face. "baby. don't be nervous about the fight, come on. don't you trust your old man?" he chuckles before dragging you in and kissing the top of your head as a gesture of reassurance. "i got the boys with me, don't i darling? they've got my back."

they definitely didn't have his back.

"when's your daddy coming, sweetheart?" the kindergarten teacher perched next to the pigtailed girl with those captivating green eyes that everyone couldn't help but compliment.

"sweetheart?" the girl giggled as she eyed the playground, waiting for her dad to appear at any moment, like mum had promised he would today. "that's mommy's name, daddy says so all the time. i'm athena!!" she flashed her toothless grin and giggled even louder.

"ah, yes. sorry, athena. i got confused!" the teacher shook her head and feigned confusion, returning the young girl's smile. as if on cue, the intimidating father figure entered the classroom and the young girl wasted no time sprinting and latching onto his leg as he lets out a low chuckle. he picks her up effortlessly and rests her on his hip as he looks apologetically at the teacher.

"i'm sorry, ma'am." his gruff voice filled the classroom which is usually filled with high-pitched laughs and soft tones. "i got.. held up at work." athena pats her father's stubbled cheeks and let out a shriek of laughter as his free hand pokes at her stomach, his eyes fully on her with a smile to match.

"mr. anderson, it was really no issue. i love spending time with athena, don't worry about it."

"ben. ben is fine." he corrects. "alright. well, say goodbye to miss smith, athena. time to go home to mommy." athena waves wildly as ben offers miss smith a curt nod before leaving the colourful classroom. miss smith couldn't help but laugh to herself; somehow the toughest man became the softest father.

the fight had taken a turn for the worst. everyone had turned on each other. chaos ensued and ben was left with no option to erupt and unleash himself on everyone. luckily, with shaking hands and a trembling voice, you had called grace mallory and begged for her help. for her to make you and ben disappear so you could start again, give him what he always yearned for a loving family. that's how you ended up in south philadelphia, ben's home state. despite his denial to face and confront his past, he knew it was something he needed to be able to become the father he wanted. the father he knew he could be. it wasn't hard to do a better job than his own father, but once he regained consciousness after the fight and you shared the news you were too scared to share before, suddenly... all of ben's betrayals, heartaches and suffering became obsolete. all that mattered was you... and her.

ben wasn't made to work under normal conditions, being in an office and stuck at a desk felt like a punishment. like a wild animal trapped in a cage. he wanted the normal life he knew he could've had if he never had become soldier boy, but no matter what, ben was a weapon before he was a man. while you and athena settled into a comfortable daily life, ben was sent on solitary missions by mallory and the CIA. it was the least he could do after the fuckfest that went down in nicaragua all those years ago, mallory had explained. it was the only way the CIA would agree to help him and his family, so he begrudgingly accepted.

you pulled a pink pyjama top over athena's wriggling form before pulling her in and giving her rushed kisses all over her soft face.

"mammaaaa!" she yelled in defiance as her giggles grew louder and pushed away at your quick, planted kisses. you pulled back, gave her a large smile and brushed her wet hair carefully after her nightly shower.

"mummy couldn't help herself. you're too cute, 'thena." you laughed in return before braiding her hair and tucking her into bed, surrounded by her army of stuffed teddy bears. the soft glow of her sunset lamp cast a warm, orange hue over her cherub face as you gazed into those eyes that you could get lost in.

"can you tell me about where i got my name again, mamma?" athena whispers into her hands, knowing it was already past her bedtime. you open your mouth to tell her no, but a gruff voice from behind interrupts you.

"daddy can do it." ben had been leaning against his daughter's door frame with folded arms and admiring the sight of the two of you, not fully believing how lucky he had gotten. he saunters in, gives you a big kiss on your lips (followed with an "eeew..." by athena) before he sits down carefully on her heart-filled bed covers and holds her tiny hand in his.

"when daddy used to be a soldier, many many years ago before he met you, daddy was in many wars. he worked hard to protect his country and he was always protected by athena. athena helped daddy when he needed to be brave and clever to get the bad people to go back home. like those fuc-." you let out a small cough. he pauses and his eyes flicker to you, as you offer him a warm smile; encouraging him to continue. you let your hand run up and down his back, relaxing him. "fudging commies." he continues. "athena was zeus' favourite daughter, like you are mine." he continues and kisses her small knuckles. "she was the wisest, bravest olympian god and she cared for people, like daddy, when daddy needed it most."

all soldiers need a war, but not the way that ben needed his little athena.

ben's smooth voice had lulled athena into a slumber, her eyes lidded and her lips in a natural pout as her head hung. ben tucked her in tightly and placed a brief kiss on her forehead as you turned off the lights.

"daddy loves both of his girls." he whispers into her hair before quietly leaving her room and joining you in the hallway.

"oh, daddy loves his girls, huh?" you wink and stretch your arms up around his neck. his hands fall naturally into place, on your hips, as you sway slightly together with identical smirks on your faces.

"if you're not careful, sweetheart, daddy will have to teach you a lesson." he gives your ass a light slap.

"how could i say no to you, daddy?" you hum as you bite your bottom lip.

"you're so fuckin' dirty. bet you've been thinking about me all day, haven't you?" he chuckles as you lead him into your joint bedroom, swiftly closing the door behind you and connecting your lips in a frenzied kiss. "daddy will take care of you, sweetheart. lay back and show daddy how much you missed him." ben mutters against your slick lips before throwing you onto your bed and climbing on top of you, his hands gliding across your form and grabbing you with a sense of urgency that you never got tired of.

after all this time, you were still into him, who you watched finally find himself amongst the chaos of his life.

a/n: in my mind, months pass between the boys finding ben and the showdown between him and homelander, rather than only a few days, so that's where this takes place. also couldn't resist writing a girldad! ben as jensen is just the best father ever <3 and still into you is my favourite lovesong ever. hope u enjoyed!

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