#Priding in the Impala | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dulcescorderitas · 28 days ago

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parings: married!deanwinchester x married!reader

synopsis: hunting w your husband and his brother

warnings: no smut

the smell of melted butter and sugar hung heavy in the air, the oven kicking out waves of heat that made the kitchen toasty in the early morning chill. you stood at the counter, hair messy and still slightly damp from your shower, rolling dough between your hands into perfect little spheres. chocolate chips poked out here and there, their glossy, dark surfaces promising a burst of sweetness when they finally hit the road.

behind you, the sound of boots scuffing against hardwood meant sam was up, his towering shadow cutting across the warm light spilling from the kitchen window.

“you’re baking… cookies?” sam asked, his voice tinged with that distinct tone of incredulous disbelief he always got when you and dean did something domestic. “at six in the morning? before a hunt?”

you didn’t even turn around, biting back a grin as you placed another dough ball on the baking sheet. “good morning to you too, sam.”

dean’s voice cut through before sam could respond, a low, gravelly drawl that somehow managed to sound teasing even when he was half-asleep. “yeah, sammy. cookies. you got a problem with cookies?”

dean strolled into the kitchen behind his brother, barefoot and shirtless, his jeans slung low on his hips and his hair sticking up in every direction. he scratched lazily at his chest as he made his way toward you, leaning down to press a kiss to the curve of your neck. the warm scrape of his stubble sent a little shiver dancing down your spine, and you couldn’t help the way your lips twitched into a smile.

“morning, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin.

“morning,” you replied softly, nudging him with your elbow as he reached for the raw dough on the baking sheet. “don’t even think about it.”

dean groaned dramatically, his hand retreating but not before he snagged a stray chocolate chip from the counter and popped it into his mouth. “what? you’re gonna bake cookies and not let me taste test?”

“you can taste test when they’re done,” you said firmly, wagging the wooden spoon in your hand at him like a teacher scolding a naughty student. “now go get dressed. we’ve got a long drive ahead.”

dean didn’t move, though. instead, he leaned against the counter beside you, arms crossed over his bare chest, and gave you a look—a look that said he had no intention of going anywhere anytime soon. his green eyes sparkled with that signature winchester mischief, his smirk cocky and playful as he nodded toward the cookies.

“you’re making cookies for the hunt?” he asked, clearly amused but not the least bit judgmental.

“and packing lunch,” you added, tilting your head toward the cooler on the floor by the fridge. “peanut butter sandwiches, chips, apples, the works.”

sam’s eyebrows shot up, his gaze bouncing between you and the cooler like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “you’re… packing lunch? for a hunt? like we’re going on a field trip or something?”

dean’s laugh was a low rumble in his chest, and he clapped a hand on sam’s shoulder. “that’s my wife,” he said, his voice full of pride as he gave you a wink. “she keeps us fed so we don’t have to live off gas station burritos and crappy diner coffee.”

sam rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath about how he was perfectly fine with diner coffee, but he didn’t argue further. he knew better than to question your methods when it came to taking care of dean—and by extension, him.

the impala hummed beneath you as dean drove, one hand on the wheel and the other casually resting on your thigh. the cooler sat snugly in the backseat beside sam, who had already polished off one of the peanut butter sandwiches you’d packed despite his earlier skepticism.

“i still can’t believe you brought cookies,” sam muttered, his mouth full of crumbs as he reached for another one.

“yeah, and look who’s eating them,” you shot back, twisting in your seat to give him a pointed look. “you’re welcome, by the way.”

dean chuckled, squeezing your thigh gently as he glanced over at you. “see, this is why i married you. cookies and sandwiches. you’re a damn saint, sweetheart.”

“is that the only reason?” you teased, arching a brow at him.

“oh, there’s plenty of reasons,” he said, flashing you that cocky grin that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. “but the cookies definitely sealed the deal.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you said, laughing as you leaned into his shoulder, the familiar scent of leather and aftershave wrapping around you like a second skin.

“you love me,” he replied without missing a beat, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your leg.

and he was right. you did.

the hunt itself was nothing special—a small town, a restless spirit, a salt-and-burn. but the memory of that morning, of dean stealing cookie dough when he thought you weren’t looking and sam begrudgingly admitting that the sandwiches were “actually pretty good,” stayed with you long after the ghost was gone.

because for all the danger, all the chaos, and all the nights spent wondering if you’d make it back in one piece, it was mornings like that—messy, loud, and full of warmth—that made it all worth it. it was about the little moments, the stolen smiles, the way dean’s hand never left yours when the job was done.

and yeah, maybe it was also about the cookies.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

#dulce's garden #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n

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wolvietxt · 2 months ago

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ᰔ the little things !

pairing : dean winchester x fem!reader warnings : fluff, slight injury, established relationship au, teasing, prompt list here wc : 1.5k a/n : ignore the fact i posted a logan drabble w/ the same name yesterday😭 anyways this is just something little while i finish another dean fic :3

the first time you realized you could curl up on dean no matter the position, it felt like something out of a dream. his chest was broad and steady, his arms always finding their way around you without a second thought. on the couch, in bed, or even crammed in the backseat of the impala, he never shifted to make himself more comfortable. instead, he adjusted to you. "you gonna start charging me rent?" he teased once, his voice low and rough, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile. the truth was, he loved it, even if he didn’t say it outright.

feeding him snacks became another routine. it started when you were lounging together, a bag of chips in hand, and you absentmindedly held one over your shoulder. he leaned in, catching the chip between his teeth, and gave you a cheeky grin. "thanks, sweetheart." after that, it became a habit. popcorn during movie nights, bites of your sandwich when you were too lazy to pass it properly - he never asked for it, but he never refused either.

your fingers found their home in his hair more times than you could count. the first time, he had leaned his head into your lap while you were watching tv, his eyes closed as he relaxed. your hand naturally drifted to his hair, carding through the soft strands. "you’re gonna mess it up," he muttered, but his voice was too soft to carry any real protest. after a while, he stopped pretending to complain, even tilting his head slightly to guide your hand to his favorite spots.

"text me when you get home" became one of his go-to phrases whenever you were apart. it didn’t matter if you were only driving back from the store or coming home after a hunt. he wouldn’t rest easy until he knew you were safe. "just humor me," he’d say when you rolled your eyes, but the worry in his eyes told you it was more than just a habit - it was a necessity.

you couldn’t help but smile whenever he did. sometimes it was a full, toothy grin after he nailed a joke, other times it was just the soft curve of his lips when he was focused on something small. either way, your chest tightened at the sight, and before you realized it, you’d be grinning too. "what’re you so happy about?" he’d ask, pretending not to notice, but there was a warmth in his voice that gave him away.

he always stole bites of your food when you were cooking. you’d be chopping vegetables or stirring a sauce, and suddenly, his hand would sneak in to grab a taste. "dean," you’d scold, trying to sound annoyed, but it was impossible not to smile when he looked at you like that. sometimes, you’d hold out a spoonful for him instead, cupping your hand under his chin to catch any drips. the first time you did it, his eyebrows shot up, and he stared at you like you’d hung the moon. "you’re too good to me," he murmured, licking his lips.

whenever dean cooked for you, you made sure he knew just how much you appreciated it. even if it was something as simple as bacon and eggs, you’d rave about how good it was, savoring every bite like it was the best meal you’d ever had. "you’re gonna give me a big head," he’d say, but you could see the pride shining in his eyes.

breakfast in bed wasn’t a regular thing, but on the rare mornings when he surprised you with a tray of pancakes or scrambled eggs, it felt like the ultimate luxury. he’d sit beside you, watching as you took the first bite, and you’d catch him smiling to himself like he’d just won the lottery.

"you look gorgeous. stunning. jaw-dropping. breathtaking," he said one evening, his eyes scanning over you with a playful smirk. "do you see what i’m getting at here?" you laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly, but the way he looked at you made your cheeks burn. there was no doubt in your mind that he meant every word.

holding hands with dean felt effortless. it wasn’t something you planned or thought about - it just happened. whether you were walking down a crowded street or wandering through the woods on a hunt, his hand would find yours, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. it was grounding, comforting, like a silent promise that he was always there.

people noticed the way you looked at each other. you didn’t realize it at first, but there was something unmistakable in the way your eyes softened when they met his, or the way his entire demeanor shifted when you walked into the room. "you two are disgusting," sam teased once, shaking his head, but there was no malice in his tone - just a hint of envy.

before dean left for a hunt or even just a grocery run, you always made sure he looked put together. fixing the collar of his shirt, smoothing out his jacket - it was a small thing, but it mattered. "you don’t have to fuss over me," he’d say, but he never stopped you. if anything, he leaned into your touch, letting himself be cared for in a way he wasn’t used to.

when you were apart, you’d send each other little pictures - nothing fancy, just quick snapshots of your day. a selfie with a cup of coffee, a picture of the impala with some smart-ass caption from dean - it was a way to stay connected, even when miles separated you.

you could sit together in silence for hours without it ever feeling awkward. sometimes he’d be cleaning his guns while you read a book, or you’d both be on your phones, the quiet companionship as comforting as any conversation.

napping with dean was a kind of magic all its own. his arms wrapped around you like a cocoon, his steady breaths lulling you into the deepest, most peaceful sleep. sometimes he’d wake up before you, his hand gently tracing patterns on your back as he waited for you to stir.

one of his more protective habits was guiding you to the inside of the sidewalk whenever you were walking. he never said anything about it, just casually reached for your hand and steered you away from the road. it was such a small thing, but it spoke volumes about how much he cared.

"have you eaten today?" was a question he asked more often than you realized. it didn’t matter if you were busy or distracted - he made sure you took care of yourself. and when you turned the question back on him, he’d grin sheepishly, knowing he couldn’t get away with skipping meals either.

massages became your go-to whenever he seemed stressed. you didn’t have to ask - he’d sit on the edge of the bed, his shoulders tight with tension, and you’d slip behind him, your hands working out the knots until he finally relaxed.

whenever you tripped, even slightly, dean’s hand shot out instinctively, ready to catch you. "you okay?" he’d ask, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury. it didn’t matter how small the stumble was - he treated it like a near disaster, his protective instincts kicking in without hesitation.

hugs from behind were his weakness, even if he’d never admit it. you’d wrap your arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, and he’d melt instantly. sometimes he’d reach back to rest a hand on yours, grounding himself in the warmth of your touch.

"i’ve got this, you go rest," he’d tell you, gently nudging you toward the couch or the bed. dean was stubborn, always taking on more than he should, but when it came to you, he made sure you were cared for first.

he had a habit of wiping crumbs or smudges from the corners of your mouth. it wasn’t something he did consciously - it just happened. his thumb would brush over your lips, his eyes focused with a softness that made your heart ache.

"i love you," he said one afternoon, out of nowhere. you were sitting together, doing absolutely nothing, but the words fell from his lips like they’d been waiting to escape. it wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but it felt just as powerful as the first, like he needed you to know, again and again, just how much you meant to him.

ᰔ dean winchester : @person-005, @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

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godmadeaterribleerror · 3 months ago

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Chapter 2 - Sick and Full of Pride

Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, fluff, mutual pining, smut, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: You, Dean, and a sleeping Sam drive back to the bunker. Usual Warnings, plus light smut.

Author's Note: Dean driving does Things to me have a whole chapter with it.

Title from Drive by Halsey

Word Count: 5k

Read on A03!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

You’ve been in the car for almost eleven hours. The drive home was supposed to be eight, Dean is by no means going slow, and—as he’s told you many, many times—he doesn’t get lost, so you’re starting to suspect that you won’t be home any time soon.

As such, you’re now trying to find a reason to very casually and inconspicuously bring up that, if you’re looking at another three hours in the Impala, you’d appreciate it if you and Dean could make the team effort to kick Sam into the back so you can move to shotgun. You rarely get the opportunity—it arises exclusively when Sam wants to sprawl across the larger bench, you made Dean pie to get on his good side, or Dean and Sam are fighting, so Sam loses shotgun privileges—so you plan to take full advantage of this one.

Dean beats you to it. He’s been drumming on the wheel for about an hour in a beat you can’t find any real pattern to, he keeps shifting in his seat, and when he meets your eyes in the rearview mirror, there’s something that’s not quite stress—but close to it—on his face.

“Do you, uh, you wanna come up here?”

You blink, leaning forward between the seats to whisper in his ear. Don’t want to wake up Sam, and, really, any excuse to whisper with Dean is one you’ll take. “Yeah, but,” you glance at the sleeping lump of Sam. “What about Goliath?”

Dean shrugs. “He can sleep in the back. He’s lanky,” Dean says your name, shooting you a small grin, and you almost fall forward. “And I want you up here.”

“Oh.” You flush, but force yourself not to read into it. Sam’s asleep. Asleep people are worse company than awake people. “Okay.”

“You’ll talk to me, right? Up here?”

He sounds a little nervous, and your words fall out in a rush of reassurance. “Of course I’ll talk to you. I lo-” You catch yourself, and focus your attention on a dial on the dashboard as you continue. “I like talking to you. I’ll always talk to you.”

“So yeah?” Dean’s voice is casual, but he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s staring at the road—which he probably should’ve been doing the whole time—and his grip has become white-knuckled and tight on the wheel. “You’ll come up here?”

“If you can get Sam out, sure-“

Dean pulls off the side of the road, pushing his door open, and stomping around the hood of Baby. You’re a little dumbstruck, not entirely sure what’s happening, and a small rap of Dean’s knuckles on the window pull you back to your senses.

You push your door open, frowning up at him. “What-“

“Let’s go.” Dean’s hand moves to your arm, but he flinches back almost immediately, like you’ve burned him. Even in just the streetlights, you could swear he’s blushing. “C’mon, Sweetheart, need some backup.”

Once you’re out of the car, rubbing your arms and watching Dean and Sam exchange low words—Dean’s sounding urgent and Sam’s just sounding a little irritated—you try to look up and down the street for some clue of where you are. It’s mostly bushes, yellowing grass, and telephone poles—so literally anywhere in the Midwest—and this old dirt road isn’t really that different from any other dirt road, but it still feels familiar. Like you’ve been on it before. And the track marks on the upcoming path look suspiciously similar to the track marks behind Baby-

Sam stands up and shuffles to the backseat with a few grumbling sounds, and Dean holds the door open for you.

“M’lady.” He makes a wide, sweeping gesture to the seat, and you give him an amused, dry look as you walk up to his side, trying not to get high on how incredibly real his boyish, proud smile looks.

“You’re very cheesy sometimes, you know.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t seem bothered, and his eyes never leave yours as you climb into the seat. “Part of my charm.”

There isn’t a good answer for you to offer him that isn’t God, it really is, so you just make a half-hearted shrug and sink into yourself, letting Dean close the door and return to the wheel.

The first few minutes are silent, and the longer you look at the passing fields, the more you feel like you’ve seen them before.

“Hey, Dean?”

He hums, and you turn your head to see his gaze flicking between you and the road.

“Do you know how much longer we have left? Before we’re home?”

“Few hours.” He shrugs, and it’s a loose movement, which is a good sign. “Traffic’s a bitch.”

You glance out the windshield to the completely empty, dark street. “Traffic.”

“Yep.”

It’s not worth pushing him on. You’re fine here—you’re fine anywhere if you’re next to Dean—and Sam looks a little more comfortable, so if the drive ends up going until morning, you won’t care that much. You might become a little more worried about Dean, but you’ve gotten used to being worried about Dean. You’d rather the worry be about he might be losing his sense of direction, or developing short-term memory loss, because we’ve definitely taken this right before instead of he’s shattering glass and doesn’t seem to do anything but look sad and it’s going to make you cry.

“So, um,” you keep your eyes on the dial from before, because looking at Dean while you talk to him is never a good idea. “You’re still feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling great. Whatever hocus pocus shit Rowena did worked wonders, Sweetheart, I’m feeling amazing.”

You smile, and something that’s been tight around your heart for months loosens. “That’s really good, Dean. I know you didn’t want to try this, but-“

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” You see another loose shrug in your periphery, and your smile grows. “I gotta listen to you and Sam more, sometimes your ideas can actually be good.”

That makes you look up at him—primarily to glare—and it’s immediately a mistake. The shadows and ripples from the streetlight, cutting over his lips and jaw and cheekbones in the night, are making him look somehow more attractive, and you think it’s because of the joy. Dean’s grinning between you and the road, and there are no burdens pushing his shoulders down or weighted over his handsome features, and his whole face looks happy.

“Um,” you swallow, unable to tear your gaze away from Dean. “What’s the betterlust feel like? What does it want?”

Dean pauses, and he clears his throat in a deep, rough sound that is incredibly unproductive for actually focusing on his words.

“Feels like the bloodlust, I guess. I don’t, uh, it’s like a hunger.” Dean runs one hand carefully over the wheel, glancing at you with darkened eyes you can’t read, but want to watch you forever. “But for really specific things. And if it doesn’t get those things, I get…” He trails off, shaking his head slightly. “I feel like shit.”

“Like a craving?”

“Exactly like a craving.” Dean shoots you a grin that’s all pleased teeth, and you couldn’t look away from him if you tried. “Kinda like when we’re on a stakeout and suddenly you want a burrito, and if we don’t get you a burrito you start to get all mean and whiny.”

“I do not get mean or whiny-“

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “You get very mean and whiny. I ain’t gonna forget when you threatened to castrate Sam because he brought you a salad.”

“And I won’t forget that you backed me up, Winchester. You offered to get my knife.”

“Because you were being mean and whiny, and I’m not looking to ever get castrated.” He gives a fake, overdramatic shutter. “The loss of Dean Jr. would hit many people very hard.”

You flush, whacking his arm. “Asshole, I was not going to castrate you-“

“You would.” He shoots you a wink. “But don’t worry about it. I appeased the monster, and everything’s intact and functional down there.”

It takes effort to roll your eyes, because you know he’s not even taunting you on purpose. Dean has no way to know that you’d never castrate him—you probably weren’t going to castrate Sam either, the point was more to put the fear of God in him for thinking salad was an acceptable alternative to burrito—because the monster he was teasing you about lived in your abdomen and only roared for him. It reared it’s head at the deep, rolling sound of Dean’s voice, grew warm and sensitive at every brush of a big, rough hand on your skin, and was fed by any sliver or scrap of attention he threw you. The only way to truly appease the monster was to let it out of where you’d trapped and desperately ignored it, and the only way to let it out was for Dean to look at you, and not stop.

But you’d learned to deal with that. As long as the monster was tended to, kept in line and from falling out of your mouth with a shout of Dean! I love you! Please look at me, because I really, really love you! You’d be fine.

“Fine.” You sigh. “I’ll give you mean, but I have never been whiny in my life-“

He gives you a flat look of amusement. “You’re a little whiny right now, Sweetheart.”

There’s no way for you to win this argument, Dean’s backed you into a corner you’re more than happy to be in—it means he’s smirking at you, unbelievably pleased with himself, and he’s drumming on the wheel again—so you just roll your eyes.

“Shut up.”

“Uh huh.”

You flip him off, he lets out a loud laugh, causing Sam to stir in the back seat.

“Dean,” you hiss, your hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “Quiet-“

He scoffs, pulling your hand down. “Sam’ll be fine, he’s slept through more than me laughing. Don’t know where the hell his hunter instincts go when he knocks out, but nothing short of a hurricane is gonna wake him up now.”

“I know that, I’m just,” you glance at your hand, back in your laps as still buzzing where your palm had covered Dean’s lips. “He’s been really tired.”

Dean’s grin drops slightly, eyes flicking between you and the road. “What about you.”

“What about me?”

“Are you tired?”

You pause, trying to get a read on your own body. Your eyelids do feel heavy, and your body does have that strained feeling of exhaustion between your muscles and bones, but you’ve been more tired. And moments like this—just you and Dean, talking without any worries or sadness or pain—are so rare, you don’t want to miss any of it.

“I guess. But-“

“Get some sleep,” Dean says your name in a stern voice, his attention fixed back onto the road. “We’ll be home soon.”

You blink at him, and realize he’s taking the first left turn in almost three hours. “I’m fine, Dean-“

“You and Sam have been working overtime for me,” he grunts, shooting you a firm look that’s not angry, but firm. “You both deserve some rest. I’ll get you up when we’re back.”

You’re going to argue—to push back and try to explain that you can sleep later, you’re not really that tired and you’d choose talking to Dean over almost anything—but he turns up the music and that’s it. You’re not moving him on this, and if he thinks you need rest, he won’t talk to you until he deems you’ve rested.

It’s insufferable, and annoying, and so fucking impossible to fight with how he won’t stop looking at you with concern, until you sigh, curl into your seat, and pretend to close your eyes.

You’ve gotten good at faking sleep around Dean. At keeping your eyes just open enough to watch him like, admittedly, a creep, and savoring the moments where he’s just himself. He’s not trying to perform the big hero and protector and fighter role for you and Sam that he’s so good at—despite what he seems to think—because you and Sam are both, allegedly, asleep.

Well, Sam’s definitely asleep. But you’re drifting, toeing the careful line between the hazy fantasies that run through your head on loop and the reality of Dean, right next to you and so damn pretty.

He’s always so pretty, and right now he’s alive. He’s purely Dean—entirely himself, which is and always has been more than enough—and it makes his every movement electric. Every dart of his tongue over his lips—pink and full and probably soft and well fit on your own—makes you salivate, and that makes you wish he’d run a broad, thick finger over your mouth, wiping away the slight drool.

He’s drumming on the wheel again, and it turns into some sort of rhythmic lullaby, moving you higher and higher until everything is Dean.

It’s his strong, firm arms wrapping around you and flexing as he moves the wheel, and pinning your hands above your head with big, calloused hands you could swear keep brushing over your cheeks. It’s those lips that drive you insane pressing small, soft kisses all over your body before moving to your lips and turning desperate and rough. Dean’s tongue down your throat and his nose suddenly bumping against your clit.

He’s moved, down, down, down your body—you can feel marks that never really formed but are still sensitive and blissful from Dean’s presence—and suddenly you’re so needy you might die from it. You can still see Dean—the actual Dean, his eyes locked on the road in reality but focusing only on you in your head—and you can’t focus on anything else. His hands gripping the wheel are suddenly holding and kneading at your hips, but still deep inside you, pumping in and out in the same rhythm of the song.

It’s mostly fantasy now. You can smell the leather and whiskey and amber of Dean, your Dean—not your Dean, not your anything unless it’s here, in your half-dreams—and hear his humming, feel the heat radiating off his body. And it’s all feeding into each other, and now you’ll never come down. It will just keep being Dean’s hands on you—tossing you around like a ragdoll but touching your skin in a way that’s painfully careful—and body caging yours in. His full lips sucking and nipping at your neck and breasts and inner thighs, his tongue flicking at your nipples and clit and running over your teeth. Dean hold you down, up, under him or above him or against him, touching you however he wants because God, you’re not needy and desperate by any means but it would feel so good for him to use you. To be the cause of his post-sex swagger walk—as you and Sam have deemed it—or receive one of those cocky winks over breakfast. To hear him praise you, or praise him, or do anything he asks because he always does most anything for you.

Except this. This one thing—playing with you until you’re screaming his name and seeing stars—is the only thing Dean hasn’t done for you. Won’t do for you. You’ll never ask of it, you won’t be able to handle it when he says no aloud in a deep, gruff apology, and so you’ll just live here. In fantasy, where Dean’s attention is fixed on you and never strays. Because in this fake world, it’s only you and Dean, and you could like that forever.

And, right before sleep pulls you under, you could swear that Dean’s eyes on your are deep and blown-out with hunger, and realer than anything else in the world.

——————

Dean was starting to get the hang of this. It was surprisingly easy to do most of what the betterlust demanded, because they were things Dean already did all the damn time. Driving was an obvious one that he’d latched onto almost immediately—something in Dean’s brain had always felt a little easier to live with when he drove, and his hands never felt dirty when he was holding Baby’s wheel—and was easy to feed. Dean had to drive, because that’s how they got around. She and Sam knew him well enough to not try and ask and drive themselves, and it was part of Dean’s job to drive them between cases and the bunker, so satisfying the betterlust had pretty much been handed to him as a quick, easy fix.

But the trick seemed to be not feeding it too much. Taking just enough to satiate the betterlust into something that didn’t make him feel sick and hot, but keeping it from going overboard, because it was really fucking easy to go overboard. To get in the car and know that the drive could be short, but Sam had knocked himself out and She probably wouldn’t be far behind, so if Dean missed two or three turns or drove in an overly complex circle for two hours, nobody would stop him. They were only an hour from the bunker, nobody seemed to be upset by the additional time in Baby, and driving sent Dean’s head into some sort of humming, blissful joy he’d never felt in his damn life. It was like the quiet ease of driving had been duplicated, amplified, then shot right into his blood.

And two or three turns turned into nine or ten, and two hours became four. And She didn’t fall asleep, and the betterlust started to get hungry again. He couldn’t stop glancing in the rearview mirror at Her drop-dead gorgeous face that couldn’t be his, and wanting her. Wanting Her to say one word to him, or smile at him, or sit just a little closer so he could offer the betterlust something. Anything that wasn’t this starving, tortuous, ugly need for Her. Closer closer closer, never close enough and She needs to be closer so Dean doesn’t rip off his own skin from how it’s boiling or pull out his tongue because it’s starting to cave in with words he’s not allowed to say.

Dean didn’t trust himself to talk to Her, but the longer she was awake, within his reach, and invading his head with Her everything, the closer he felt going batshit insane. He had to keep himself in fucking check, and figure out what he could be allowed to do with this.

He could not be allowed to touch Her. Touching Her was dangerous. Touching Her made this high feel like he’d died in the best way possible. Touching Her was like all the simple easy of driving and the sweet taste of pie and humming strength of a good drum line in a song that pounded in Dean’s chest were rolled into one thing that was soft and warm and just real good. The betterlust fall entirely silent just when his hand brushed against Her’s, then became loud and feral when the contact was taken away. Touching Her was so good that it made everything else became pointless. Touching Her was the best, so Dean could not be allowed to touch Her because then he’d never stop.

And this wasn’t dangerous. It was just driving, and everyone knew Dean loved driving, and Dean felt like he could walk away from this. That, when they parked and She and Sam shuffled back inside, Dean was strong enough to ignore the hungry voice in his head and itch in his hands to just start driving again. Just like how he’d eat a cheeseburger, but he didn’t always need to eat a cheeseburger. He’d eat pie, and then walk away. Dean could control this. The betterlust was easy to feed, and better to feed—She’d really nailed it on the head with that—and nobody got hurt.

As long as Dean kept himself under control, nobody got hurt.

So Dean could talk to Her. Be near Her with the knowledge that, if he let his gaze linger on Her peaceful, sleeping face for too long, he’d be more of a goner than he already was and never be able to look away. It was safe to do in the car, where he could pull his attention away because of safety and immediately offer the betterlust some more driving the fill the loss of Her. Dean could keep driving, and look at Her in moderation, and nobody would have to freak out about certain people being in love with certain other people, or an annoying, third person who was a massive lump in Baby’s back seat getting a smug I told you so face.

Sam was wrong, though. There wouldn’t be anything to be smug about with Her and Dean, because Sam was wrong. As they neared the bunker—for real this time—it was just Dean, the rumble of the engine, and the music, Dean fell further into his head. Usually the music could drown his thoughts out, but the betterlust was so determined to have Her that he needed to grab it and shout that having Her wasn’t a fucking option. Dean could offer the betterlust whatever it wanted, except Her. He tried to reason with it—She’s too good, Dean isn’t close to good enough, and She doesn’t want him so he can’t lose her over something dumb like feelings—but it didn’t seem interested in Dean’s flawless, rational logic. The betterlust just wanted Her in every way possible, and Dean couldn’t get Her, and this might be worse than the bloodlust. This was unfixable, and Dean wanted it just as much as the betterlust, and his chest was going to cave in on itself and take his heart down into his stomach, pressing it to tiny pieces and pushing it out so everyone could see how little control Dean had over his own goddamn body.

He’d have to get through this. They were only ten minutes from the bunker, and he’d work out how to see Her in moderation, and She wouldn’t get uncomfortable from how much of a sick, twisted, perverted son of a bitch he was, and he’d have Her as he was allowed to and never lose Her. He’d do every other thing that fed the betterlust, and nobody had to get hurt. The whole point of this was to stop the hurt, so Dean would get a fucking grip and live with what She and Sam had worked so hard to get him.

Then She started moaning. Dean thought it was just a noise of discomfort at first—he even slowed down so he didn’t disturb Her—but then she did it again, and it was breathless and needy and he was going to die. He could feel his face turn red, feel how his jeans were suddenly painful to wear and all the blood in his body was focused and throbbing where Dean needed Her, and all his plans of keep Her close but still at a manageable distance went out the window. Her lips were parted as Her breathing became heavy, She was squirming slightly in the seat under the touch of whatever the hell was doing that to her in her dreams, and Dean might have be forced to jump out of the car if he wasn’t already pulling into the bunker.

There was a long moment—right after he turned off the engine—where the only sounds were Sam’s snoring and Her moaning, and Dean wondered if this was hell. If Rowena had actually just killed him in that kiddie pool, and he was being tortured with Her looking and sounding and being like something he wanted to eat but was just out of his reach, all while his little brother slept in the back seat.

Dean adjusted himself in his seat—hiding his boner from Her view and blocking Her from Sam’s—and cleared his throat as loud as he possibly could.

Her eyes blinked open—hazy and blown out from either sleep or Her dream—and even Her adorable, sleepy yawn made Dean twitch in his pants.

“Hey,” She rolled a little onto her side, pushing herself upright, and Her voice sounded airy and soft and Dean could not look Her in the eyes. “Are we home?”

Dean grunted, nodding, and he had to get out of here. If he didn’t, he’d either kiss Her or explode. “Just parked,” he muttered, clenching his fists on Baby’s wheel in a slow pattern that usually calmed him down, but right now was doing jack shit. “Gonna go get some food.”

She hummed, leaning forward into Dean’s periphery with an expression he recognized as Her Dean, please be okay one. She was trying to kill him.

“Are you-“

“I’m fine. Hungry.” That wasn’t a lie. Dean was starving, just for something that wasn’t exactly food. It was right at his side, and probably wet and bitter in a way that would be so fucking good, and moan and whimper like a song, would shiver at his touch and grind on his hands and face and cock and-

He had to get out of here.

“Got pie in the freezer,” Dean said, pushing Baby’s door open in the way that he always yelled at Sam about. Too rough and reckless, practically punching her open, and he didn’t have the time to chastise himself or apologize to his car, because he had to go. “Wake up Sam for me.”

“Dean-“

“I said I’m good.”

“I know, but can you, can you please just look at me-“

Dean’s head turned of its own will, and it was the biggest mistake of his life. Her face was still slightly flushed, and she looked so nervous and worried, and her eyes were scanning over his face the same way they did in his dreams. Where he’d be covered in blood, and She’d look him over with care that never seemed to waver with doubt, and guide him into the shower. Strip them both, pull Dean under clear, steaming water and kiss him as all the blood was washed away. He’d be allowed to roll Her nipples between his fingers, and shove his knee between her thighs, and kiss Her until she said his name-

“Dean-“

He had to shake his head, force the spell of Her out of his vision and head and blood, and grab the betterlust by the throat to stop it from grabbing Her face and pulling it to his. She wouldn’t want that, and She shouldn’t do things she didn’t want to do, and Dean couldn’t be near Her like this. He still couldn’t control himself, and all of this had been a mistake because he could hurt something bad and sit in the guilt and hatred but still have Her, but now he couldn’t have Her at all.

He wasn’t even sure what his excuse was, but within the next ten seconds he was half running out of the garage, into the bunker, and locking himself in his room like some sort of feral animal. A beast that had to lock itself away from the people he loved, because they didn’t deserve him and he couldn’t force them to do more for him, and couldn’t stand to ask for what he wanted and be denied.

But he could get control back. He could find the smaller things that the betterlust wanted and keep feeding them. Drive and eat and maybe watching some fucking TV. Listen to music until he went deaf and work on Baby and stay the hell away from Her. She was dangerous to him. Not Her herself—She was awesome and cool and hot and Dean wanted Her on his face or lap or under his body, which was the problem—but the way the betterlust seemed to tunnel vision onto Her. The way Dean would just look at Her and his whole body would start to ache and boil and twist until he was talking to Her. And the more he spoke to Her the more he needed to touch her, and a little more control would slip, and eventually he’d just be unable to leave her side.

The distance was going to hurt Dean more than Her anyway. He’d figure out how to control this and immediately seek Her out when he did—She probably wouldn’t even notice he was avoiding Her—but until then he had to stay away. He’d agreed to this for things to be easier, not for himself, but for Her and Sam.

Staying away from Her would be easier for everyone. No complicated, emotional, chick flick conversations. No rejection. No showing Her that he wasn’t the strong, immovable man she was friends with and being tossed out onto the curb. Dean didn’t ever want to lose Her, this would make Her walk away—She wouldn’t want him, because she’d seen every single part of him and nobody would want them all—so Dean had to keep himself under control.

And it would be fine. Dean had control now, and he could feed the betterlust with so many other things, so this would be easy.

End Note: Answer to the last note - I am incapable of writing a short and sweet chapter, I had to make the whole mini-series an extra chapter, send help.

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

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idlingintheimpalapodcast · 3 days ago

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(Details of charity info will be given tomorrow when everything is live)

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redbird-tf · 1 month ago

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Teach me

Dean x little sister

Summary: dean teaches you how to change baby’s oil

(I suck at summary’s)

Word count:885

Warnings:none

The morning sun bled through the thin curtains of the dinghy motel, tugging you awake with a groan as you rubbed your eyes. You sat up, feeling the strange stillness of waking without one of your brothers nudging you-always being the last to rise. Confused and Grumpy you blinked against the light and scanned the room from your spot on the fold-out couch. Sam still snoring in his bed but the bed next to him was empty. Tossing aside the thin blanket, you pushed yourself up, not bothering to change out of your T-shirt and sweatpants, and made your way to the door in search of Dean.

Opening the door you were surprised to find him just a foot away standing in front of the Impala with the hood ajar. He turned his head at the sound of the door “Morning kid” he greeted you. You took in the scene of his toolbox and bottles of unmarked fluids scattered on the ground beside him. “What are you doing?” You asked groggily. “Baby needs an oil change” he explained grabbing a tin pan and wrench. You’d probably seen Dean work on baby a hundred times by now, but the sight stirred a long-buried memory. You could almost see John teaching Dean how to replace spark plugs, while you sat nearby, munching on a sandwich. Was it spark plugs? You wondered, John had never taken the time to teach you anything about cars.

“Dean” you called out right before he could crawl under the car. “Yeah?” He replied sitting back on his heal, turning to look at you. You hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Could you teach me?" Your voice wavered slightly, uncertain about what you were really asking. Dean raise his brows, surprised by your interest but after a brief pause, he gave you a small grin and waved you over.Excited, you scrambled to join him, crawling under the car. You mirrored his position— back pressed against the gravel, face turned up toward the Impala's undercarriage. “This is the oil tank, we have to drain the old oil before putting new oil in” he pointed up at the black plastic box that hung above you. You watched carefully as he scotted the tin pan between you both, unscrewing the nut from the tank and letting the old thick dark oil drip out. “Now, we have to remove the oil filter” he explained pointing across your body. “This thing?” You questioned, pointing at the cylinder shape above. He nodded “think you can you loosen it?” He asked. You looked back at rhe filter and wrapped your hands around it tightly, twisting to the left with all your might, but couldn’t get to budge. Your hands dropped back down and you looked to dean in defeat. “Try with this” he said handing you a wrench. With the wrench secured around the filter you tried once more, and a big smile reached your face feeling it break loose. “Nice!” Dean praised, his voice laced with pride.“Now replace it” he instructed, taking the old filter from you and handing you a fresh one. You placed the new filter into its spot and tightened it down then turned to dean for approval. He gave you a thumbs up “follow me” he said crawling out from under the car.

“Now the last and easiest step…” he started to explain picking up a large grey bottle “filling the tank” he moved to the engine and you watched as he unscrewed the oil cap and started steadily pouring, then stopped and handed the bottle to you. The bottle was heavier than you'd expected, a flicker of doubt crept in as you positioned yourself over the engine. Taking a shallow breath to steady your hands, you tilted the bottle and began to pour. You were doing well until your hand wavered, and a small splash of oil spilled onto the engine. You let out a small gasp, “your alright” Dean calmly reassured you. When you felt the bottle empty you pulled back and looked at Dean as he clapped his hands together. “You just did your first oil change kid” his smile reached yours and you couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself.

Dean closed the hood with a satisfying thud, wiping his hands together before slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Now, how 'bout we wake Sam and get ourselves some breakfast?" he said, flashing you a wide grin. You nodded along “Thanks for teaching me Dean” you said softly. “Anytime time kid, dad should have taught you long ago” he mentioned, heading towards the motel. “I'm glad it was you de” you admitted, your voice quiet but sincere. Dean stopped in his tracks, and for a split second, you caught something flicker in his eyes— vulnerability, maybe? It was a look you’d never seen on Dean before. He quickly shook his head with a scoff “Always rely on you for an ego boost. Wait until we get to the real stuff” he teased, his grin returning as he reached out to ruffle your hair. You scowled, pushing your hair out of your face, and trailed after him back inside. You had a lot more to learn, but there was nowhere else you’d rather learn it than by your brother’s side.

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean spn #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester x little sister #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff

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wendichester · 29 days ago

Text

˚ ༘ ୭ ˚. prankd!

summary. dean really doesn't like when someone touches the impala.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 643

You’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to pull this off, and today is the day. Dean’s holed up, deep into research mode with Sam, which gives you enough time to put your plan into action. You’ve hidden Baby—Dean’s pride and joy—in the safest spot you could think of: a secluded spot a couple of miles from Bobby’s old garage, tucked under a tarp.

By the time Dean emerges from the bunker, you’re leaning on the hood of your car, trying to look casual as you sip your beer.

Dean steps out, his green eyes scanning the parking lot. “Where’s Baby?”

You shrug, keeping your expression neutral. “What do you mean?”

Dean frowns, his gaze snapping back to the empty space where the Impala usually sits. “She’s not there.”

Sam appears behind him, looking up from his phone. “What’s going on?”

“Baby’s gone,” Dean says, his voice tinged with a mixture of panic and anger.

Sam blinks, clearly trying to process the information. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

“She’s not here!” Dean growls, his hands flying up in frustration. He spins to face you, suspicion narrowing his eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Why would I know anything? Maybe you misplaced her.”

Dean’s jaw drops, and he looks genuinely offended. “Misplaced? I don’t misplace Baby.”

“Well, she’s not here, so…” you say, trailing off with a shrug. The small glint in the glare you give him should be the indicator that you're the culprit, but Dean's too much in his head to even notice.

Dean paces the lot, running a hand through his hair. “Who the hell steals a car out here? We’re in the middle of nowhere!”

Sam folds his arms, smirking slightly as he glances at you. “Dean, maybe you should calm down.”

“Calm down?” Dean snaps. “Sam, my car’s missing!”

“Dean, it’s just a car,” you tease, unable to resist poking the bear a little.

Dean freezes, slowly turning to face you. “Just a car?” His voice is low, dangerous.

You bite back a laugh, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, don’t have a coronary.”

“Oh, you little minx... Where is she?” Dean demands, stepping closer, his green eyes boring into yours.

You finally let the grin break through, unable to hold it back any longer. “The care is safe, Dean. I just moved it.” His eye almost twists as you call Baby it.

Dean stares at you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he growls, “You what?”

“I moved her,” you repeat, pushing off your car. “She’s fine. I even covered her with a tarp so she wouldn’t get dusty.”

“You’re kidding me,” Dean mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Payback?” you offer, smiling sweetly.

Dean shakes his head, muttering under his breath as he heads for your car. “Show me where she is. Now.”

The drive is filled with Dean grumbling about how you’ve got a death wish and Sam laughing in the backseat, clearly enjoying the show. When you finally pull up to the hidden spot, Dean bolts out of the car before you’ve even come to a full stop.

He whips the tarp off the Impala and sighs in relief, running his hand along her glossy black paint. “Baby, I missed you,” he murmurs.

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. “See? She’s fine.”

Dean glares at you, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You just wait,”

“I'm shaking” you tease, stepping closer.

Dean smirks, grabbing your waist and pulling you into him. “You're lucky I like you,”

You grin, leaning up closer. “Admit it, I got you good.”

Dean huffs, shaking his head. “Fine, you got me. But you’re never touching Baby again.”

“Deal,” you say, your smile wide.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural #.docx

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apocalypseornaw · 10 months ago

Text

Reality

Dean Winchester x Reader

Follow up to Fantasies

Donna needs help on a hunt so despite your protests Sam goes to back her, leaving you alone with Dean. When the two of you have a hunt land in your lap can you keep your feelings for Dean from boiling over?

You were sitting in the library when you heard Sam and Dean's voices drift down the hall. They were headed your way so you figured you'd wait to see if it was a hunt or just their usual back and forth.

You turned back to your laptop screen, eyes scanning the police reports Max had sent your way but your attention was drawn back into the conversation at hand when Sam said "I'll go back Donna. Max said he emailed Y/N about a possible hunt so the two of you can go chase that lead"

You cut your eyes up at Sam and noticed the look he sent your way. Your conversation from the day before played through your head Sam had cornered you in the kitchen. Dean was gone into town on a supply run so only the two of you were in the bunker.

"Did something happen between you and Dean?" You shook your head "Not that I know of, why?" You tried to focus on the cup of tea you were making but Sam's larger hand covered yours "It's just us here. I know you better than that. You've been avoiding being alone with him. Normally you'd jump at the chance to go into town, not to mention two horror movie marathons have passed without you two taking over the Dean cave so what's really going on?"

You refused to answer simply because Sam knew about your attraction to Dean. He teased you about it at times but had also seen first hand how many times you'd swallowed your pride and watched Dean talk up another leggy blonde in the name of maintaining your friendship with both Winchesters.

Apparently Sam had taken it upon himself to force you to face what was causing you to distance yourself from Dean. "I can go help Donna. You and Dean work better as a pair anyways" you offered but Dean turned his attention towards you "Are you just not wanting to hunt with me?"

You fought the urge to squirm under his gaze "It's not that Dean. It's just like I said, you two have been a pair your entire life" he nodded slowly "Just for that there's no way I'm taking Sam on this hunt. You've got two choices sweetheart, back me up or let me go alone and then if I get hurt..." he trailed off and your narrowed your eyes at him "You're an ass Dean" he grinned at your words "and yet you still like me"

Sam's smirk was poorly hidden when he said "In that case Y/N, I'm taking your car" you glared at him before saying "Be safe" his smirk slipped into a smile "You too"

Dean drove in silence, the only noise filling the impala was the radio playing and the tap of your phone screen as you read through the medical examiners reports for probably the hundredth time since the two of you left the bunker.

He had turned it into a joking manner but it had actually rubbed him the wrong way when you hadn't wanted to go on a hunt with him just the two of you. He wasn't stupid he could see you pulling away from him for the last few weeks but was clueless as to what he'd done to cause the change.

He cared about you,more than he probably should. Hell next to Sam you meant more to him than anyone. There were times he wished he could tell you just what you meant to him. He wanted you in every way a man could want a woman but he refused to do something stupid that would cost not only himself but Sam the price of losing you out of their lives.

You sighed lightly and he cut his eyes at you. You'd laid your phone down between the two of you and your head was leaned back against the seat. For a moment he thought you'd decided to get some sleep but you cracked one eye open and said "Yes?" He shrugged "You got even quieter. Making sure you're still with me"

You closed your eye back before saying "I'm still with you Dean for better or worse" a smile fought its way onto his face at your words. "For better or worse huh? Easy sweetheart sounds like you may want to keep me around a while" you shook your head "Just drive Winchester. Wake me when we get there"

Dean's lips trailed down your neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh. A light rumble of a laugh fell from his lips when you gasped at the feeling "You're so damn sensitive. I fucking love it" he teased and you felt one of his hands playing with the button on your jeans "Can I please take these off?" He whispered against your skin. You nodded "Please"

A moan fell from your lips when his fingers dug into your hips "Look at you, spread out for me. Never seen anything so damn beautiful"

------------

Dean's hand on your arm, shaking slightly startled you out of your sleep. The remnants of the dream clung to your memories and you could feel your face warm and knew Dean either heard you say something in your sleep or clocked the change in you because a smirk slipped onto his face "What ya dreaming about? Sounded like you were enjoying it"

You rolled your eyes at him "Henry Cavill as the Witcher. Nice and dirty. Are we there yet?" He laughed and motioned to the windshield. You were parked outside a hotel named the blue bird inn. "I got us one room. That's all they had left but queen size beds at least" you nodded slowly "Sounds good to me. Let's get changed and hit the medical examiners office. Faster we get a lead, faster we can head home"

-----------

You followed him into the room and saw he'd already taken your go bags and fed suits inside before coming back to wake you up. Christ you hoped you hadn't said his name in your sleep.

You really needed to get some space from him,hell maybe you needed a good one night stand? You needed something to stop having sex dreams about Dean every damn time you dozed off. You heard Dean call your name and turned to face him. "Huh?" He motioned to the bathroom "You wanna change in there and I'll change out here then we can get going?"

You nodded and grabbed your fed suit off the bed "Yeah. Just um knock when you're done so I don't come out while you're still changing" he gave you one of those damn smiles that made heat rush straight to your core "Oh darling anytime you wanna peek at me feel free. I suggested changing in different rooms for your modesty not mine" you felt your face warm again but shook your head "Easy tiger. Save it for the bimbos at the bar"

You pushed your legs to keep up with Dean's pace. How the hell had what seemed like a simple case resulted in the two of you chasing down a pack of freaking ghouls. It was unusual enough to find a pair, let alone six.

You slid to a stop next to Dean and cursed when you realized why he'd stopped. The pack had split off. You'd been so focused on the ones ahead of you, neither of you had noticed the three closing in. Dean cut his eyes at you "I'll take the left" you grinned "I got the right"

------------------

When the last ghouls body dropped to the ground you allowed yourself a moment to take a deep breath before looking over at Dean "Burn and bury the ashes?" He nodded "Only way to make sure no one finds the bodies out here"

-----------

You stood next to Dean watching the last embers die down. "Guessing you're hitting the bar when we're done here?" You asked as you squatted down to pour water over the embers to cool them before he scooped them into the hole. He shook his head when you stood back up straight "I need a hot shower and some sleep. If I want a beer there's plenty in the minibar back in our room"

You honestly hadn't expected that. Wait, when was the last time Dean had went to a bar without leaving when you and Sam did? You shook your head to clear those thoughts before you ended up falling down a rabbit hole that would do nothing but give you false hope. Dean was your friend, you both were exhausted and filthy.

"Then on that note let's get out these damn woods. I'm not even sure what some of the bits in my hair even is" he turned to face you and grinned before plucking a bloody chunk from your hair "Don't worry you're still beautiful even covered in questionable things" "Quit teasing Dean" you scoffed before grabbing the shovel and turning to head back to where the impala was parked a couple blocks away from the cemetery.

Dean didn't know how much longer he could keep acting as if he didn't have the feelings he had for you. Hell he hadn't even attempted to pick up anyone at any of the bars you all would hit on your hunts in months. None of them compared to you and how was it right to anyone involved to be fucking someone else while he imagined it was one of his best friends?

He'd been cleaning your guns and machetes while you showered but the moment you stepped out of the bathroom he nearly dropped the damn blade that was in his hand. Your hair was clean and down around your shoulders, you were wearing a black shirt and a pair of dark pink sleep shorts that showed more than they covered. As if that wasn't bad enough when you bent down to put your dirty clothes in your bag he saw there was no way in hell you had panties on under those shorts and he felt his cock twitch at the thought.

---------------

You were asleep by the time Dean got out the shower so he didn't put a shirt on because the room was a little on the warm side or maybe thoughts of you without those damn little shorts covering you was pushing him a little warm. He needed a break, fuck he couldn't lose you but you were all he thought of here lately. He didn't want you for a night, he wanted to fucking ruin you for other men and let you ruin him for other women. How could he approach the subject without the chance of losing you?

Dean's lips on your skin caused a feverish chill to go through your body. "Fuck Dean, please" you begged and he hesitated, the head of his cock teasing your core "Words princess" he spoke in that damn tone that would make any woman's panties soaked. "Please fuck me" you managed and he grinned "Good girl" before sliding into you in one fluid movement that pulled a loud moan of his name from your lips

Dean sat up straight in bed the moment he heard you say his name. At first adrenaline told him something was wrong but he quickly scanned the room to see everything was still. When his eyes landed on your form he realized you were still asleep. Maybe you were just just dreaming? Could be a nightmare?

He studied you for a moment and noticed how hard you were breathing. He felt like a creep for staring at you while you slept but you had called his name after all. He felt his cock twitch when you called his name yet again because that was a moan. He felt a sense of accomplishment when he watched you roll over onto your back, your legs falling apart in your sleep as your face twisted in ecstasy. Fuck, were you having a sex dream? About him?

He needed to wake you up. Fuck he should wake you up. "Y/N!" He whispered shouted and you jolted up, the blanket falling down to pool in your lap as you snatched the gun from under your pillow and looked around the room "What?" He grinned "Easy tiger. Put the gun down. No danger you were just um dreaming kind of loud?"

He saw the moment the realization hit you. Your eyes widened and he could see a light sheen of sweat on your cheeks. "Did I say anything" he leaned up on one elbow and shrugged "Figured it was Cavill again" you nodded slowly "Yeah"

You started to lay down but he called your name and when you turned to face him he said "What was his name as the Witcher again?" "Geralt" you replied so he nodded "Yeah I thought so. Which doesn't explain why you were moaning Dean in your sleep"

You froze the moment Dean spoke. Fuck, he'd heard you. Fuck, you'd woke him up moaning his name. You refused to meet his eyes but could feel them on you, watching every small movement and knew if you even glanced his way he'd know the truth. "You're not the only Dean you know" your words sounded hollow even to your ears, a pathetic attempt to hold onto the life you had where Sam and Dean were your friends and you could hunt and live with them without any awkwardness.

"Only Dean you know as far as I know" he broke the silence and you shrugged "Sorry for waking you but can we just drop it?" Dean was silent for a moment and you hoped that was it. You turned on your side with your back to him but before you could even attempt to go back to sleep you felt the bed dip behind you and knew he was sitting there, waiting for you to face him and give some sort of explanation.

"Dean please" your voice broke on the end but you didn't care. You couldn't do this tonight. You could face it back at the bunker, you could grab your chevelle and leave."I don't want to ignore it, I don't want to drop it. I want to know what you were dreaming about"

You turned over to find him leaning back against the headboard of your bed nonchalantly as if the two of you were simply watching Nightmare on Elm Street. He was wearing a pair of black sleep pants and nothing else. Your eyes flickered across his chest taking in the small scars you knew were littered here and there along with the way the muscles moved when he readjusted the pillow behind his head and the way his eyes lit up when he noticed your attention, the way that damn smile made you feel.

"You know what I was dreaming about" you spoke, dropping your gaze to focus on his tattoo over meeting his eyes. He chuckled lightly "Well I mean it sounds like I was doing a good job at least" you felt your face warm "If you're just wanting to tease me please shut the fuck up Dean. You know you're gorgeous, you know every woman would kill to fuck you. I can't help my hormones. I don't want to fuck up our friendship or mine with Sam for that matter"

"Was it just hormones?" He asked and out of everything he could've said that threw you off. Your eyes flew to his face before you comprehended what you were doing "Huh?" He smirked, pushing your hair that was tousled from sleep back out of your face "Was it just hormones? Because if you just need a release I'm happy to oblige you"

You shook your head "You're unbelievable Dean" and moved to sit up, letting the blanket fall away. You saw the way Dean's eyes tracked your bare legs up to where the shorts had ridden up your thighs "What? I mean it when I tell you that you're beautiful, you're fucking gorgeous. If you need some assistance I can help you in that area"

---------------

The voice in Dean's head was screaming at him that this was a bad idea. He was propositioning one of his best friends,one of the most important people to him and the only woman he'd ever seen a chance at a future with but dammit if sex was what you wanted he'd give it to you. He knew that was one thing he was good at, if he could get you to only want him that was a start wasn't it?

He watched your face, trying to get a read on what you were thinking but you dropped your gaze again. You wouldn't meet his eyes when you whispered "and if it's not just hormones?" "Then I'd say I'm the luckiest son of a bitch alive"

He saw so many emotions flash through your eyes. The uncertainty in your voice broke his heart when you asked what he meant. He reached for your hand and you gave it to him, watching as he ran his thumb across your knuckles "I want you sweetheart. In every way a man could want a woman. I want to taste every inch of your skin, feel you fall apart under me then I want to still be wrapped up in you come morning. If you're willing to give me a chance here and now I'll let you decide come morning if you want what happens to stay in this room or if you want to try this thing between us"

You were quiet for a few excruciatingly long moments before you said "and if I ask you to kiss me?"

-----------------

He grinned before his hands went to your hips and pulled you into his arms. You moved to straddle his waist and the way he looked at you made your stomach flip "You're so damn beautiful" he murmured before crashing his lips against yours.

Fuck any dream you'd ever had. Your imagination could never mimic the feeling of Dean's lips on yours. His tongue flicked past your lips, rolling against yours. You rolled your hips down against his and moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his body reacting to the kiss.

When the need for air forced you away from each other he gripped your hips tightly, pulling you down against his hardened cock "That's what you do to me with a damn kiss. I haven't touched another woman in months, I dont want another woman. I've wanted you" "I'm yours Dean" you whispered and he groaned lightly, laying his head over on your chest "Baby I know I said it would be your choice come morning but keep talking like that and the choice is gonna be made now"

You pulled back from him,forcing him to move his face up to look at you. You reached for the hem of your shirt feeling a sudden rush of confidence from his words. You slipped the shirt over your head and tossed it behind you. The look in his eyes was pure hunger as he took in you bare from the waist up. "Dean, I'm yours. I've been yours for longer than I care to admit. Claim what's yours"

He gripped your hips and moved, flipping you both over so you were now on your back and he was hovering over you "I'm yours sweetheart" was all he said before claiming your lips in a bruising kiss. You gasped when he moved from your lips to kiss down your neck, biting the places that made you squirm.

He moved down your body, licking and sucking at your breasts. One of his hands slipped under your sleep shorts and he pulled back from the attention he was showing your flesh to look up at you "No panties?" You shrugged "I never wear panties with these shorts"

"You wear these around Sammy" he practically fucking growled and you felt yourself clench around air. If you were wet before you were soaked now but still felt the need to tease him "Why? What's wrong with wearing these around Sam?" He gave you a grin that was nothing short of devilish. In one fluid movement he gripped your shorts with both of his hands and you felt a slight tug as you heard the fabric rip.

He pulled the ruined material from your body before settling himself between your legs. You glared at him "I liked those" he winked at you "I'll make it up to you" you didn't have time to ask before he lowered his mouth to your pussy. The first lick was teasing, tentative almost but when your fingers tangled into his hair, hips bucking up and a moan of "Dean please" left you he was like a man starved.

----------------

The first orgasm crashed hard over you, making your legs shake around Dean's head but before you could recover completely from that one he'd slipped two fingers into you along with his tongue. He found that spot inside of you and worked it with his fingers before sucking your clit into his mouth.

The second orgasm slammed into you, causing a scream of his name to be ripped from you as you came. After a moment you shoved weakly at his head "Dean please. Please" you weren't sure what you were asking for but you'd never came two times that close together,hell normally you were lucky to come once.

He left an open mouthed kiss against your clit before pulling back to look up at you. He grinned at you,chin glistening with your juices. "What's wrong?"

--------------

You shook your head "come here" he kissed his way up your body, kissing and biting every inch of skin he could reach along the way. When he finally made it to your lips he kissed you lazily letting you taste yourself on him. "Dean there's so much I want to do but fuck I need you inside me" He groaned "That's got to be the sexiest thing I've ever heard"

You laughed "I doubt that" he shook his head "I'm gonna enjoy fucking that doubt right out of your pretty little head" he stood up and pushed his pants off his hips.

He wrapped a hand around his cock, locking eyes with you as he did so. "How do you want me?" You bit your bottom lip in before saying "Get on the bed"

-------------------

He raised an eyebrow but climbed into the bed, laying back with one arm behind his head. "Take what's yours" you caught his lips in a hungry kiss before moving to kiss down his chest. You worked the skin there with kisses and small bites. You'd always loved Dean's chest and getting to openly explore it while his breathing quickened under your touch was every damn dream you could've ever had.

When you got down to his waist you looked up at him before swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, collecting the precum on your tongue. His head fell back against the pillow "Fuck baby" when you moved to take as much of him down your throat as you could he moved to pull your hair back, not tugging but keeping it out of the way so he could watch you.

"Just like that...fuck you really are perfect" his praises urged you on until he pulled out of your mouth roughly. You looked up at him and he laughed breathlessly "I know where I'm coming and it's not your mouth. Not this time"

He pulled you up the bed, leaving you no choice but to straddle him. You felt his hard cock against your thigh and lifted up before lowering yourself on it.

-----------

Once he was fully inside of you, both of you let out a low groan at the feeling. After a moment you rolled your hips and he dropped his head back, eyes half closed. "How the fuck did I get this lucky" he cursed as you started to move up and down, chasing your third orgasm.

"Goddamn baby" the grip he had on your hips was bruising as he started to bring his hips up to meet your thrusts. You were so damn close and he knew it because when he slipped one hand between you to work at your clit you fell apart, shaking around him.

------------

He flipped the two of you over so he was on top, never pulling out. His thrusts going even deeper in this angle "Feel so damn good...so damn gorgeous taking me this good.... fuck you're perfect Y/N"

You knew he was close, he pushed your legs even further apart and you let them fall open. You were damn near crying his name from how sensitive you were and from the impending fourth orgasm. "Dean please tell me you're close" he nodded, burying his face in your neck "Can I come in you?" He asked between gritted teeth.

"Please" you moaned and his thrusts got harder, chasing his own high. You felt his body tense before he buried himself inside of you with one final thrust and the feeling of him finding release pushed you over the edge yet again.

---------------

You both lay there, him still inside of you as you worked to get your breathing back to normal. He leaned up to look down at you and smiled "Fuck I thought you were gorgeous before, you're a fucking goddess all fucked out" you shook your head with a tired laugh "Not too bad yourself Winchester" He pulled out of you gently, kissing you in apology when you whined at the loss.

"I'm gonna go get a rag to clean you up and grab you a water. Ok?" You nodded and watched him walk over to the bathroom. He came back with a warm rag and cleaned you up before tossing it in the corner of the room then helped you to sit up and made sure you drank enough before climbing in the bed with you.

He pulled you over onto his chest. You curled up to him and was quiet for a moment trying to soak in everything that had just happened "Please tell me you're exhausted and not being quiet from regret" he asked and when you looked up at him your heart clenched. Dean looked so damn uncertain in that moment. "Never. I know how I feel about you, how I've felt about you for a long time. I just didn't want to risk losing you"

He smiled "you could never lose me. Anytime I think of the future it's you" you felt your heart flip and pressed another quick kiss to his lips "Let's get some sleep. We'll figure the rest out as we go" "Just as long as i get to have you in my arms, I'm good"

Tags: @swndwwhxre @sunnyhummingbee @maxiismp

#dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 4 months ago

Text

Migraine Ministrations

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @wasteofatoolbox

Synopsis: you get a migraine during a hunt, and things go wrong.

Not now not now not now, please not now.

The mantra played over and over in your mind, as if you could wish away the pain that was beginning behind your eyes—wouldn’t that be nice.

Instead, the pain got worse as the Impala roared down the side road; which of course was full of potholes.

“Road’s gonna ruin my tires,” Dean grumbled, oblivious to the way you cringed at every jolt and jump. Or at least, he was oblivious so far. You’d have to hide it better before the three of you arrived at your destination, or Dean would make you sit out on the hunt.

He’d only decided a few months ago that you were old enough to start hunting, and since then he’d been very picky about what hunts you were allowed on. It had been weeks of “too dangerous” hunts since you’d been invited to come, and you were itching to join in.

But if Dean found out you were getting a migraine, he definitely wouldn’t let you go. Once you coughed too many times last month, and Dean made you sit out the hunt because you “sounded like you’re getting sick.”

You didn’t notice the Impala pulling to a stop until Dean was turning in his seat to check on you.

“Grab your machete, and don’t forget the—hey, you ok?”

You looked up, forcing your face into a neutral expression; you didn’t want to look pained, but smiling would be too far.

“Yeah, I’m great. You sure you’re ready, old man?”

Dean’s concern dropped immediately, a prideful smirk on his face.

“Oh, it’s on newbie.”

…

You were cornered, but not worried. One vamp had taken it upon himself to go after the smallest human, and you let him back you into a corner—now he had no choice but to get close to you, and all you’d have to do was swing.

You were adjusting your grip on your machete, waiting for just the right moment, when the pain that had been beating behind your eyes suddenly pulsed painfully. It was so sudden and extreme that your eyes shut of their own accord for just a split second…

By the time you could force your eyes open through the pain, the vamp was already on the move, and you couldn’t get your machete up fast enough.

You cried out when he grabbed hold of your arm and slammed it hard against the brick behind you, forcing you to drop your machete.

He was leaning his head down, his vampire teeth extending from his gums in more detail than you’d ever seen—you didn’t appreciate the close-up.

He didn’t get the chance to sink his teeth into your neck. His head was on the floor before you even noticed Dean sneaking up behind him.

“You ok?” Dean demanded.

You tried to assess yourself for injuries, but it was hard to do when your migraine was the worst pain you felt; nothing else really registered.

“I’m…I think so,” you mumbled, swaying a little on your feet.

“Whoa, hey.” Dean grabbed your shoulders to steady you. “You didn’t get bit, right?” Dean’s loud voice had you cringing in pain.

You shook your head, lifting your hands up to rub your eyes—you couldn’t hide the pain anymore; you didn’t even know how long you’d be able to stand.

“What’s going on?” Sam’s—you assumed—hand was on your arm suddenly. Where had he come from? Last you saw him, he was tackling a couple of vamps. “They’re all dead,” Sam said. “We should get going. Are you hurt?”

You couldn’t tell if he was talking to you or Dean, and you didn’t want to open your eyes to look—the boys had turned the lights on in the building to disorient the vamps, and even with your eyes shut the light was nearly unbearable.

“Is it a migraine, kiddo?” Dean’s voice was softer now, which you appreciated.

Despite not wanting him to know, you have a tiny nod, knowing that trying to hide it was pointless.

“Alright, ok, we’re gonna get you back to the bunker.” Dean tugged on your arm and guided you outside and into the Impala.

“Here,” Sam said, pressing a water bottle into your hands. “Drink this.”

Ignoring Sam’s order, you just pressed the cold bottle against your forehead.

“Hey,” Dean spoke up once he was on the road. “How long have you had a migraine?”

“An hour or two,” you mumbled, before realizing your mistake.

“You had this before the hunt?” Dean demanded. “And you didn’t say anything? Are you crazy?”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” you mumbled.

“It’s always that bad,” Sam argued. “And you know better than to go on hunts when you’re not ready.”

“I was ready!” You argued.

“The fact that you lied to me tells me you weren’t,” Dean scoffed. “So…you’re benched from hunts.”

“What?” You finally looked up, regretting it when your head pounded. “For how long?” You cringed.

“I don’t know,” Dean huffed. “Indefinitely. And I don’t ever want you to do something stupid like that again, understand? If you’re not a hundred percent, it puts everybody’s life on the line. Are you hearing me?”

“I understand,” you sighed, dropping your head back into your hands.

“Ok.” Dean’s voice was noticeably gentler. “Good. Now let’s get you home and see if we can do something about that headache. How does a nap sound?”

Despite yourself, a small smile creeped onto your face.

“Yeah, ok. Can I pick a movie tonight?”

“It’s my night,” Sam argued, but at Dean’s glare he huffed. “Ok, ok. Fine.”

“You’re gonna milk this for all its worth, aren’t you?” Dean asked. When he glanced back and saw you still smiling, he chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

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