#and dean saying take it however you’d like

[sammyluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . soft 'n sleepy — sam winchester

cw : gn!afab!reader, fluffy smut, consensual somnophilia, dry humping, finger sucking, praise, so super sweet sam, swearing, praise, aftercare, pet names (angel, honey, baby), unedited, 1.3K words. requested ! MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY

summary : it doesn't take you long to fall asleep after a long hunt. sam, however, can't seem to fall asleep or keep his hands dick to himself.

you're so pretty and soft every time you fall asleep in his arms. sam just loves it when you're sleepy, eyes bleary and fluttering closed, lips parting and little puffs of breath leaving your nose as he tucks you against his chest.

this hunt was draining, especially for you, and you fall asleep quickly now that it's over. sometimes, all he needs to follow right after you is your presence. having you close is so reassuring, comforting. but tonight, it’s not nightmares or guilt that he’s worried about disrupting his sleep. instead, it’s your closeness that keeps him awake.

your thighs against his, the little shift of your hips that pushes your ass right into his crotch. your soft, even breathing, and your limp fingers splayed across his wrist. he’s been aching for you, but hasn’t said a thing, knowing how tired you are.

and he’d feel guilty about the growing bulge in his pants as he thinks about your pretty chest under the loose fabric of your comfy shirt, the grey panties you fell asleep in, your bare thighs. but you’ve told him, most definitely more than once, that you like the idea of him getting off in bed with you while you’re asleep. you’d used the words “you can use me like that. it’s okay, i promise.” he replays the sound of your pretty voice saying it, sincere and flirty all at once, and he just gets harder. “i want it,” you’d said. you want him to use you like that.

so he really just can’t resist gently tugging you closer, pulling your ass flush against him, and wrapping his other arm around you to softly cup your chest over your shirt. he gives a roll of his hips into you and bites back a quiet groan. and with that, he’s a goner.

you had the sense to get a separate room from dean when arriving at the motel, so as sam gets needier and needier, slowly rocking his hips into you, he doesn’t bother silencing his quickening breath and soft moans. he only keeps his sounds quiet for your sake, though he’s sure you’ll wake eventually.

his hand slides down from your hips, under your shirt, past the sensitive skin of your lower belly, and right over your thinly clothed pussy. he can’t help it, he just loves to hold you there, his hand hot and heavy as he cups your pretty cunt. he groans softly at the feeling, pressing into you with both his hand and hips now.

you stir, just a bit, letting out a little huff of breath through your mouth that just makes him grind against your ass with more desperation. and when a sweet, gravelly moan leaves your lips, he can’t help but indulge himself. the hand that was so softly palming your chest moves upwards, fingertips brushing over your collarbone until he has a gentle grip on your chin. with your lips parted just enough, he’s able to push his finger past your teeth and into the warm wet of your mouth.

he feels your tongue instinctively push against the intrusion and you draw in a deep breath through your nose as you start to rouse. his other hand starts to rub soft circles against the fabric of your panties and despite how painfully hard and turned on he is, even the rocking of his hips against you is gentle, caring, and slow.

a quiet, throaty groan falls from his lips and right into your ear as he feels your lips wrap around his finger, followed by your sweet, sleepy suckling, signaling that you’ve woken and immediately accepted his filthy actions. with your mind still so foggy with sleep, you don’t seem to have much control over your body. your hips squirm tiredly, pushing back into him, and the way that you suck on his finger is unabashed and interrupts the stillness of the room with wet, sloppy sounds. in mere seconds, there’s saliva dripping down his fingers and past the corners of your mouth.

despite your wordless enthusiasm, and the way that his clothed dick pushing into the plush of your ass makes him practically whimper into your ear, sam pauses his desperate movements against you for just a moment.

“this okay, baby?” he whispers sweetly, gruffly because he’s holding back. one of your clumsy hands finds his wrist, wrapping around it in reassurance.

“mhmm,” you hum around his finger, too sleepy to do much else, but wanting him to know that this is more than okay.

“good,” he huffs out, his hips rolling against yours with more urgency now, voice thick with barely contained desperation. “you’re so good. so good for me, aren’t you, angel? so perfect and pretty, letting me– mmph, use ya while you’re still sleeping. always so– god, so fuckin’ good for me.”

his hand rubbing against your pussy, his fingertips pressing over your clit, are making you just as desperate as him, and the feeling of him pushing a second finger into your mouth only intensifies the pleasure. you suck on his fingers contentedly, and the both of you leak through your underwear enough for the other to feel it.

along with the quiet drip from the janky sink in the bathroom and rush of a shitty window air conditioning unit, the room fills with soft grunts and whines and moans, the rustle of overused blankets, sam’s praises, and your sweet suckling. sam cums first, soaking his boxers and the back of your panties. the sound of his broken moan in your ear and the insistence of his fingers over your covered clit sends you reeling in pleasure just moments after.

he lets you keep lapping at his fingers as you come down from it, knowing the feeling quiets your mind. he’s positive that you’d fall right back asleep with his fingers in your mouth if he didn’t insist on cleaning you up first. so even though it makes you whine tiredly, he slowly slips his fingers out and gently pulls you around to face him.

his reverent lips find your forehead first, then your own spit-slick mouth. he kisses you all chaste and lovely, as if to apologize for waking you, despite it being so good for you too. the kiss is enough to satisfy you after having his fingers pulled away from your eager mouth, so you snuggle up close to him, not resisting the pull of sleep as it tugs down your heavy eyelids.

“honey,” he murmurs into the skin of your forehead, “let me clean you up first, please. then you can sleep as long as you want, promise.” you just give him a sleepy hum, but he rolls with it, untangling himself from you. he strips himself of his dirtied boxers, quickly pulling on a new pair before he pulls the blankets away from your legs. 

he slips your own soaked underwear off, watching your face, barely lit from whatever light seeps in through the blinds of the window by the door. your eyes are barely open, just because you want to watch him, and a soft smile tugs at your lips from his ever present sweetness and care. his heart jumps at the sight, so he covers your bare legs back to avoid giving you goosebumps from the cold, and slips away for a moment. not before leaving a kiss to the skin of your calf.

just moments later, he crawls back into the bed with a warm, dampened washcloth to deal with all the stickiness and a spare shirt because he admittedly got the back of your sleep shirt wet too. he cleans the mess on your skin first, then urges you to sit up just a bit with gentle hands and a tone of voice he know you won’t be able to resist.

“arms up,” he mumbles as he pulls the shirt off for you, then replaces it with one of his own soft, worn t-shirts. then he tucks you back into his chest and under the blankets, fighting off the sleep that was previously evading him until he feels you fall asleep first. then he sleeps like a damn rock and is woken in the morning by your lips on his neck.

[t00muchheart]

Jump the Shark is SUCH an interesting look at John Winchester and Sam’s & Dean’s relationships with him via how they respond to Adam’s existence both initially and after accepting that he’s really their brother !

It also just says so much about where they’re at currently—Sam seeing hunting as a life that can’t be escaped, only prepared for (because he tried to escape and now he’s facing a destiny); Dean wanting to send Adam away from the hunt to Bobby’s (the safest place he can think of) because he deserves a chance to get out, live a normal life (like Dean would have if he’d had the chance). These are themes that come up consistently as we get to the end of season four: in It’s a Terrible Life, Sam Wesson believes he’s destined for something more, while Dean Smith doesn’t believe in destiny, wanting to hold onto his normal life; in The Monster at the End of this Book, Sam believes that they should use Chuck’s prophecy to approach Lilith (to encounter their destiny) while Dean believes they should try to work around it, to avoid the fate that’s laid out for them.

And all of that is symptomatic of their current places in the overall narrative: Sam trying to take his powers and embrace them, use them for good (because they feel inescapable, and if he has to have them he wants to use them to save the world), and Dean trying to resist the plan the angels have in place for him, to push back against the future they say he’s destined for.

And they were set up for that by their destinies and by the people around them. There’s Ruby, who has acted like Sam’s friend, helping him grow strong in order to achieve her own ends, who is acting as though she’s different from the demons but who is only pushing Sam to get stronger and hunt more because it will position him where she wants. On the other side, there’s Castiel, saying he’s like the other angels but privately having doubts, beginning to feel, helping Dean find a loophole to save Sam from Lilith and beginning to try to understand humanity, to see why it deserves salvation.

And Adam’s role in all that is so interesting because by the end of the episode we know he’s dead, has been dead, unwittingly dragged into the world of hunting by John even after his death, and Dean insists on a hunters funeral even when Sam suggests asking Cas to bring him back—because in his eyes, being dead but not in the mess of the Winchester’s lives is the better option, the better place to be. (But of course, he’s ultimately dragged into it anyway, revived just to become the vessel Dean refuses to be and then locked away for it, locked away for over a thousand years)

[lostalioth]

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧

→ premise: all of deans life pain has always ran parallel to love. he needs them both, he needs you to hurt him and take the pain away all at the same time, turns out you were more than willing to, you may even need it reciprocated.

→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: 2.3k words, small bit of angst that turns quickly into smut | 18+, kinda switch!dean, pain kink [slapping, biting, pinching, scratching, etc], praise kink [both reader and dean], unprotected sex, small bit of choking, multiple mentions of blood & reader nearly dying

→ a/n: kinktober 08

Dean was accustomed to pain, he learned to tolerate and push through it from a young age as his father hammered into him that it was his job to always look after Sam and conditioned him to become a hunter. Love always came alongside pain in his life, losing everybody he ever cared deeply for; it happened so often that he began to associate one with the other. And so somewhere along the way he came to yearn for both pain and love as he felt they always came together. When Dean began having feelings for you, he was scared like he’s never been before. He avoided telling you for a couple of years simply because he thought if he voiced it out loud then he'd lose you like he did everyone else.

However when a demon came very close to killing you when you were being reckless, that scared Dean a hell of a lot more and in a screaming match about it he revealed his feelings on accident.

“You couldve fucking died, ya’ know that right? If me and Sam got there even a minute later you’d have been laying in my arms dead not just unconscious” when he mentions sam, he gestures towards the couch in the small motel room where the younger brother last sat. Though when he turns to look over hoping for backup he finds Sam gone, he groans out in annoyance. Sam had figured it was best to leave the two of you to your fighting alone, yes he was also upset with your careless decision but not as heated as his brother.

“Well I didn't okay? I can take care of myself. I had it under control!” you scream out, punching your words out to get your point across, flailing your arms in frustration though the fast movement aggravates your injuries making you wince slightly. Seeing you in pain makes Dean stop short for a second, a ping in his chest as his heart aches, it however only morphs into making his blood boil more when the memory of finding you beaten and bloody on the floor of that warehouse flashes in his head. “I'm sooo glad you can take care of yourself, but what about me HUH?!” He screams out, sarcasm dripping from his voice until the latter half with his question where it breaks off taking you back. Confusion crosses your face but before you can say anything back to him he continues.

“I dont know what I’d fuckin’ do without you, im so pathetically and utterly in love with you that the thought of you dying makes me wanna lie in the dirt just so i can be buried with you!” he had been stepping closer and closer as he yelled out in frustration, not realizing exactly what he just said. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the adrenaline from his confession and proximity coursing through your veins.

“You love me..?” Your voice comes out softer than Dean swears he's ever heard it before and it melts all the anger out of his body. He knew there was no turning back now that he blurted that out and even though he was worried more than ever, he couldn't stand not being with you anymore. “I think i fell in love the moment i met you sweetheart” he sighs and brings his rough hands up to cup your face and wipe away the tears you hadn’t noticed we're slowly falling from your eyes. After a long stretch of comfortable silence as the tension of the fight has dissipated you speak up.

“Would you just kiss me already ya’ idiot” you tease, smiling softly at him through your tears as you stare deep into those stupid green eyes that turn your brain to mush.

Using his hold on your face he pulls your lips against his in a desperate kiss, trying to drown out all the swarming negative voices in his head. Your soft lips mold against his perfectly and he thanks any and every god he can think of for letting him have something he knows he doesn’t deserve. Your eyes flutter shut as you kiss back, the fight over your thoughtless decision not forgotten but put on the back burner. You were deans the second you told him to kiss you and if you thought you were gonna be able to continue with your bad decisions boy were you in for a surprise, he just finally got you he wasn't ever letting go now. You grab at his chest, your hands balling up his shirt as you try pulling him impossibly closer deepening the kiss. In a tangled mess of limbs and mouths still latched to one another’s you and Dean tumble back and fall down onto the rundown motel bed. Dean landed on his back in the middle cushioning your fall with you landing on top of him between his legs.

“Baby..” he mumbles against your lips making your heart skip a bit at him calling you a name normally reserved for his impala. He even squeezes your hips lightly to break your focus from the make out.

“I need you to do something for me” he groans out as the kiss heats up and your tongue slips in his mouth during his statement, your hands running all over his chest and arms. Your body was pressed up to his, hips flush against each other making it impossible for you not to feel his hardening cock on your thigh. “Anything, what do you need, baby?” You question, desperate to please him and more than willing to do whatever he asks. Now Dean was well aware if he said jump you'd ask how high, he just hoped this request as odd as it was didn‘t make you run for the hills.

Reluctantly he pulls away from the kiss to catch his breath as well as watch your face when he tells you what he needs. You open your eyes and look at him with that same sparkle they always hold when your gaze is locked on him. His cock was getting painfully hard now from the mixture of the make out session and your body so close to him.

”I- shit okay im just gonna say it uh. I need you to hurt me. I just- I need you to get the image of you laying in a pool of your own blood barely breathing out of my head” he rambles, his voice sounding unfamiliar to his own ears with how pathetic it comes out. He silently prays you won't just get up and walk out of his life at his weird desire. He avoids eye contact when you are still silent after a minute. A fire ignites in your body and settles in your core as a million and one thoughts are running through your head at the speed of light. Every single last one however being the different things you wanna and finally get to do to Dean.

You grab ahold of Dean’s face squeezing it as you turn it so he is looking at you again. You now have a small taunting smile on your face, your nails are lightly digging into his cheeks making his cock twitch. “I can do that, but can you be a good boy?” You teasingly question as you lean up maneuvering your body so you're straddling his hips, peering down on him. The sight of you on his lap, thighs spread either side of his body and lust blown hooded eyes staring down at him knocks the breath from his lungs. It's an image pulled from his many dirty depraved dreams of you that riddled him with guilt but now it's a reality, his wonderful heaven like reality.

He frantically nods his head yes while your hand not pinching his face is working at undoing his belt.

“Gonna be such a good boy, can be s’good for you baby” he huffs out and lifts his hips to help you out as you pull his jeans down and off his legs. You let go of his face and dean has to fight back an actual whine when the small sting of pain leaves with it. Though he swallows his complaint as he watches you strip yourself of your dirty still blood soaked t-shirt, going at a teasingly slow pace when you undo your own belt pulling it through the loops and discarding it on the floor besides his pants. “Come on don't be a tease sweetheart please” he softly begs as he grabs your hips, thrusting his up to grind his bulge against your core. The rough fabric of your jeans sends a jolt of pleasure up his spine as it rubs over his aching boxer covered cock. You bite back a moan and slap his chest to stop him before lifting your body up to help you rid yourself of your remaining clothes. He is quickly behind you nearly ripping off his shirt and tugging down his boxers making his leaking cock bounce free between your bodies.

Saliva practically pools in Dean's mouth at the sight of you stripped bare for his eyes scanning over every inch of you. Your thighs spread back over his hips leaving your pussy on display for him, your slick coating his cock as your hips take up his previous action of grinding. “Such a good boy” you praise and lean down digging your nails into his sides, the pain making his eyes screw shut in bliss. Lifting your hips once again this time however sinking your pussy down onto his throbbing cock. Your slick and his precum help to aid your cunt into taking every inch of Dean's cock to the base as you smash your lips against his in a passionate kiss. The mixture of stinging pain and sweet praise and pleasure drown out all bad thoughts, all images that were flashing in Dean's head of your limp body unmoving and bleeding fade from his head finally, his only thought being of how good you feel.

“Mhmm~” He whines out in pleasure and surprise, the sound muffled in your mouth. Your hips immediately set into a rhythm of grinding and softly bouncing, his cock dragging across your velvety walls and his tip hitting your cervix when you bounce down. “Ah- Ahh~ fuck sweetheart knew this fuckin’ pussy feel amazing” he grunts out, his fingers holding onto your hips in a bruising grip that has your head spining. You bite down on his plush bottom lip in retaliation making a small almost growl erupt from his chest. The sound vibrates through your body to your core making your hips flatter a bit and a whine escapes your lips.

Within the blink of an eye dean has your legs wrapped around his waist when he sits up and flips your position breaking the kiss. Laying you flat on your back with him nestled between your thighs his cock still buried deep inside you. “Dean~” your whimper morphs into a wanton moan when his hips start at a punishing pace, your slick already forming a creamy ring at the base of his cock as it pounds into you. His heavy balls smacking your ass creating an obscene noise that fills the room with your moans and his grunts. “As much as i love how you sound and wanna hear it for the rest of my life baby, you gotta be quiet sweetheart” he taunts as his hand slips up the side of your body to palm at your bouncing tits. you whine out and paw at his lower stomach and v-line almost pushing him away slightly to stop his tip from abusing that one spot deep inside you. “Mm~ I can’t, it s’good, feels too good, i needa cum” you whine out your words slurring together as the knot in your stomach tightens. “Aww well don't want the staff or other guests hearing you scream my name now do we?” He questions with a small smirk that morphs into an almost slack jawed look when your nails dig into his back and drag down. The stinging pain of you scratching at his back so hard he's almost certain you drew blood makes his hips speed up even more.

“Bite down on my shoulder to muffle yourself when you cum okay baby?” He softens a bit though his hips don't slow down, you nod desperately in understanding. “That’s my good girl” he beams at you praising you in a sweet tone making your pussy clench down on his cock.

You grab at his hand that rests on your breasts and pull it up to your neck hoping he gets the message. A smile forms on his lips as what you want registered in his head, you wanted pain the same as him. Dean didn't think he could love you anymore than he did and yet as his hand wraps around your throat his heart swells, you're the same as him, you needed the pain with the love and pleasure, he was the luckiest fucking man alive in this moment. He smirks and softly kisses your lips as he leans down and his cock somehow reaches even deeper inside you.

The new angle causes the knot in your core to snap and your high to crash into you, making you pull away from his mouth and bury your face in his shoulder. Baring your teeth you bite down a bit hard onto his shoulder to muffle your loud moans and cries as you cream on his cock. “Oh fuck yeah, there we go sweetheart good girl baby” he praises, his head going foggy in pain and pleasure as his climax hits him head on, spilling his cum deep inside you not caring about the loud noises that leave his own mouth.

→ a/n: as always this wasnt proofread and its late, whos shocked? anyway i got a bit carried away well more like a lot. this is only my second time writing for dean and i got excited i really like writing for him. It is however my first time writing smut for him so sorry if hes out of character.

[t1red-twilight]

mellow

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, cursing(?)

summary: literally just sleepy fluff. like no plot, just snuggles lmao

word count: 1k

masterlist d. w. masterlist

“dean?” you called out. “are you here, honey?” you had just returned from doing god knows what. dean had stayed behind, insisting that some “dean time” would do him some good (whatever that meant).

you closed the door behind you. you, dean, and sam were currently laying low. despite this, sam went to meet up with some friends that were nearby. (dean quickly noted that he thought that sam had no friends. sam didn’t think that that very was funny.)

you noted that the shower was running. so that’s what dean was doing. you removed your outerwear and sat down on the edge of the bed that you and dean were sharing. the room was cold, but not too brisk.

just as you were laying down, you heard the shower stop. it was a few minutes before dean stepped out; he had a towel draped dangerously low on his waist. his face lit up when he saw you.

“hey! when’d you get in?” he asked, stepping closer to you. a couple of strands of hair were stuck to his forehead with the moisture from his shower.

you saying one of your legs over the other. you looked up at him just as he ran his hand through his hair. “are you going to get in bed soon?” you questioned.

he raised one eyebrow. “yeah. you going to get your dirty ass jeans off of our bed?” he teased.

you held up your hands in faux defeat. “okay, okay. fair.” you swung your legs over the side of the bed and sauntered over to the dresser, where yours and dean’s clothes were residing.

you heard dean follow behind you. as you opened the top drawer to get your pajamas out, you felt dean wrap his arms around your waist and place his chin atop your shoulder. “would ya get out mine?” his voice was lowered to a mumble. out of the corner of your eye you could see his long lashes; his eyes fluttered closed for a moment while he inhaled.

“what do you say?” you asked quietly. teasing dean over his gruff attitude never got old.

he finally let out his exhale. “please,” he whispered. you reached into the drawer and pulled out dean’s plaid pajama pants after you grabbed your own sleepwear.

once you and dean had changed, he immediately attached himself to you again. as he walked you over to the bed, his hand slid up your shirt and onto your love handles. he stroked the skin of your hip with his thumb. the calluses on his hands were something you had gotten used to. hell, by this point you welcomed them.

you leaned forward (taking dean’s dense form with you), and pulled back the sheets. you heard him grunt in annoyance as you pulled away from him to get in bed.

as soon as you mirrored your actions from before and laid down again, you patted your chest silently proposing that dean should lay down. he instantly abided. dean all but flopped on top of your chest, his arms finding your waist for the third time tonight.

your arms wrapped around him, partially in an embrace, but also to pull the sheets and duvet over dean’s back. once you finally settled, dean minutely nuzzled his head into your chest; his hair pretty much was dry at this point. one of your hands stayed on his back, while the other trailed up and ran your fingers through his hair lazily.

you felt the air of dean’s exhale against your skin of your shoulder. one of his legs was settled between yours, and the other was slightly wrapped around one of your calves.

if the room hadn’t been so cold, dean’s overwhelming warmth would have been too much. however, you felt perfectly content. maybe he had set the ac to be chillier before you returned. he had, in the past, admitted to making rooms colder so he could hold you closer (you told him that you’d stay close to him no matter what, but you guessed that didn’t change things. dean was a creature of habit, after all.)

“how was ‘dean time?’” you mumbled. you looked down, and saw that his eyes were closed. you tried not to be distracted be the mesmerizing scent of dean’s aftershave.

there was a moment’s pause before he answered. “eh, it was alright. i just kinda waited until you came home.”

you snorted. “i was only gone for an hour. you miss me that much?”

“i always miss you,” he said as he moved his head and kissed your shoulder softly. you responded by returning the action and kissing his forehead. your hands slowed to a halt and just settled against his head.

dean took a deep breath. god, you loved this. he loved when it was just the two of you, and he could be as clingy as he wanted.

you broke the silence. “what time should we get up tomorrow?” you opened your eyes and looked down at dean’s relaxed face. the freckles that littered his face were more visible from this angle. it was so odd to see him this relaxed sometimes. someday, hopefully, you’d get more used to it.

if it was even possible, his voice lowered in volume even more. “i don’t really care. let’s sleep in, maybe?”

“that sounds good to me. maybe we should get denny’s or ihop or something? i saw one down the road while i was out.” you closed your eyes and melted into to sheets. the line between your body and dean’s was so blurred that you couldn’t tell where he stopped and you began.

“i’m down.” perhaps dean wouldn’t even remember this in the morning; he never really did when you had conversations when he was this tired. all you did in response was kiss his head again, and let the soft sounds of the cars driving by outside resonate through the room.

soon, you heard his soft snores fill the silence. you didn’t have the nerve or the energy to move and turn the lights off; dean was too peaceful and you were too tired. sam would have to do that when he got back.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Delicious Promises

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: smut, fingering

Summary: You and Dean are always at each other’s throats, making it hard to hunt with each other. What you two need is a good way to release your frustrations, no matter who is around to hear it.

Square Filled: one bed for three (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Hunting with the Winchesters brings out two emotions: excitement and annoyance. Excitement because you love hunting with them, saving people, and killing monsters. You can do it by yourself but they’re so good at what they do, it makes sense to want to do it with them. Annoyance because you can’t stand Dean. He’s cocky, arrogant, bossy, and always thinks he’s right about everything. You can’t stand the man. Sam is usually the buffer between you and Dean and can often keep both of you calm but if you’re alone with the older Winchester, things won’t end well.

You’re also pissed off because he’s so hot. You’ve roomed next to him before; he knows exactly what he’s doing when he has a woman in his bed. Women fawn all over him whenever he walks into a room, and can you blame them? It pains you to admit but you often thought about being one of those women in his bed at times.

Not only does he piss you off, but you piss him off, too. You hunt just as well as he does if not a little better, and it drives him up a wall when you don’t listen to him. You go off on your own and do whatever it is that you want despite you always telling him you can handle it. It always seems to work out in the end for you which is what pisses him off.

Sam, on the other hand, is one of your best friends. You two get along great which is why you agreed to go on this hunt with them. He asked for your help knowing he and his brother wasn’t going to be enough. Dean’s been driving for nearly an entire day to get to Maine, so he decides to stop at some hotel instead of a motel. They have Men of Letters money so they can splurge on sleeping comfortably tonight.

There is a convention happening in town so there is only one room available by the time you get to them. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem since you took turns sleeping in the bed whenever you were with the Winchesters. As long as there were two beds and a sofa bed, you’d be alright. However, when you get to the room, you are disappointed to see only one bed--a California King.

“Tell me there is a sofa bed,” you say. You walk over to the couch and lift the cushions only to be disappointed again. “Shit.”

“It’s fine. This is big enough for all three of us. Just sleep in the middle,” Sam says.

You barely look at Dean. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t be a pussy,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Is sharing a bed with us that traumatic?”

“Yes, actually because you’ll be in there,” you sneer.

“Will you two quit it? We’re here to hunt, and we can’t do that if you’re at each other’s throats. Can’t you two just get along?”

“I know I can,” you say and cross your arms.

“I know I can,” Dean mocks you in a faux female voice.

You resist the urge to throw something at his fucking smug face.

“Fine, I’ll sleep in the bed with you two.”

“Fine.”

You grab your bathroom bag and lock yourself in the bathroom to do your nighttime routine. It takes twenty minutes to complete the entire routine, and you leave the bathroom once you feel refreshed and ready for bed. You grab your moisturizer and lift your right leg to rub the lotion onto your skin. Dean peeks at you from over the gun he’s cleaning. After doing your right leg, you do your left leg and Dean doesn’t take his eyes off you the entire time.

You put the lotion aside and crawl into bed between the two brothers. Dean finishes with his gun and puts it away to crawl in next to you. Sam is already snuggled under the covers with a book in his hand.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters.

“What?”

“You expect me to lay here and smell that girly shit?”

“If you don’t like it, sleep on the couch,” you smirk.

“Both of you, shut up and go to sleep,” Sam scolds you two like children.

Sam is the first to fall asleep since he can fall asleep anywhere, but you and Dean are a different story. You always have trouble falling asleep in beds that are not your own and this is no exception. It doesn’t help you’re in the middle of a Winchester sandwich. Sam is a heavy sleeper so he doesn’t feel you moving to get comfortable, but Dean does. He had to be a light sleeper to look after Sam so he can’t sleep unless you’re still.

“If you’re going to keep moving, go to the couch,” he hisses.

“I can’t get comfortable.”

Dean rolls onto his side, grabs your hips, and pulls you into him. You freeze the second you feel his hard cock on your ass. Dean’s hot breath falls over your ear and neck causing shivers to rave down your spine.

“Stop moving and go to sleep.” It’s kind of hard to go to sleep now when you can feel every inch of Dean’s cock pressed between your ass cheeks. You shift as you try to think about anything else, but him and you end up pressing your ass further into him. Dean’s teeth nip at your ear and he growls his next words. “Do not move.” Okay, now you’re moving just to piss him off. You can play him so easily. Dean’s hand slides over your hip to the front of your body where he presses his fingers to your clothed pussy. That causes you to still. “If you want to play this game, sweetheart, I’ll play this game. One rule. Don’t wake Sam.”

Dean’s hand slips underneath your silk pajama shorts, pleased to find you’re wearing skimpy cotton panties. He passes the cotton barrier and presses his fingers against your clit. You jerk against his body but he holds onto you tightly so you don’t move much. He runs two fingers down the length of your slit, gathering the wetness he feels.

“I haven’t even touched you and already, you’re so wet for me.”

He pushes one thick finger into you, and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from crying out. Sam would kill you if he knew what was happening mere inches away from him. Dean pushes in a second finger and curls them to press against your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp quietly.

“Do you feel what you do to me? You get me so fucking hard. It takes everything I have not to bend you over and fuck that attitude out of you,” he whispers against your ear.

It’s somehow hotter that he’s whispering to you instead of speaking normally. So intimately… so close.

“So do it,” you smirk.

Dean slams his fingers into you rapidly and rubs your clit in hard small circles. The pressure is becoming too much not to make noise, and you arch your back as much as possible. It’s a good thing Sam is a heavy sleeper otherwise he’d hear your heavy breathing and slick sounds from your pussy.

“Fuck, Dean,” you whimper.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me? Hmm?”

You can’t respond to him even if you want to. The pressure builds deep in your core, and he can feel you tightening around his fingers. Fuck, he can only imagine what you’d feel like around his cock and tongue. Next time. His cock is rock hard and pressing against your ass, begging for release, but he’s not going to take care of him until he takes care of you.

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” you whisper.

“Go ahead. I got you.”

He circles your clit hard and the pressure inside of you explodes, and you feel your entire body start to float from ecstasy. Your pussy clenches and unclenches as you come, and he continues to thrust his fingers in and out to ride out your high. When he knows you have no more to give him right now, he pulls his fingers out of you slowly to tease you. You don’t have to look at him to know he is sucking you off his own flesh.

“Damn, sweetheart. Next time, I want to feel you come on my tongue.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“That’s just another thing I’m better at than you.”

“What thing?”

“Making you come,” he smirks. Your jaw drops several inches at his remarks, and he lets you go to give you some space. He turns over in the bed so that his back is facing you instead of his chest. “Go to bed.”

How the hell can you think about sleeping now when all you can think about is Dean and the possibilities he and his cock can give you?

x

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[agxxb]

Greaser .𖥔 ݁ ˖

dean winchester x f!reader

summary: your boyfriend is working on his car. if only he wasn’t so attractive.

warnings: soft smut. clit rubbing. pet names (sweetheart, baby). praise. dean is sweaty and has greasy hands. [1.5k]

The sunshine brought infinite hues of green, a palate of nature kissing creation alive. The light flowed, poppling like the water of a river, and the heat brought a day best for the dreaming of new poetry.

The world was quiet, the only noise being the sound of metal clanging as Dean Winchester worked on his car. Beads of sweat had formed on his hairline, dripping down his temples and catching on the short stubble of his beard. His biceps flexed as he gripped the wrench within his grease-covered hand, jaw clenching as he focused.

A quiet grunt left his mouth when he finally stood up straight, a slight ache in his back from how long he had been hunched over the car bonnet. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he glanced around the salvage yard belonging to Bobby, green eyes piercing through the waves of heat surrounding him.

You looked out at him, subtly biting your lip as you watched your boyfriend’s back muscles ripple beneath his grey shirt. You had spent the last fifteen or so minutes making fresh lemonade, pouring a glass for the younger Winchester before pouring another two.

Walking out the back door, the heat hit you like a truck. Condensation had already began forming on the outer side of the two glasses in your hands, dampening the pads of your fingertips. Your eyes squinted slightly, trying to see through the sun shining directly into them.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Dean greeted as you approached him, the man turning around and leaning against his car. He held a rag, wiping his hands free of the grease covering them.

You held out one of the glasses, smiling as he took it. “Made some lemonade, thought you could do with it.” He took a sip, closing his eyes as his mouth no longer felt dry. “You’ve been out here for hours.”

“This is good,” Dean complimented, taking another sip. You copied him, bringing your own glass up to your lips. “How’d you make this?”

However, his question fell upon deaf ears. Despite him being the one talking to you, you were too focus on Dean. His plump lips puckering slightly as he sipped his drink, tongue peaking out to lick them; His eyes, green enough to have an entire forest inside them; The freckles that danced across his cheeks and nose, almost as though they were lovers entwined in a waltz or leaves dancing in the wind; And his hands, veins visible as he clutched the glass between his calloused fingers.

Dean followed your eye-line, a smirk threatening to break out on his face when he realised what you were staring at.

“Sweetheart?” You hummed, reluctantly looking away from his fingers and back up to his face. “I asked you a question.”

“I, um…” You thought back to what he had asked, trying to remember what you’d last heard him say. “Just lemons and a bit of sugar.”

It was Dean’s turn to hum, though his was in amusement. He knew you had a thing for his hands, he just didn’t realise you’d like them even more with oil covering them. He placed his glass down on the side table holding his tools, and walked closer to you, gently taking your drink from your hand and placing it beside his.

You glanced up at him, your boyfriend towering over your frame. He saw the need hidden in your eyes, the want you had for him. Dean’s hand lifted, palm resting against your cheek before it moved down to your neck. He pulled you closer to him, watching your eyes widen in desire at his show of dominance.

“You think you’re so sly,” he teasingly said before leaning down and capturing your lips with his.

You moaned into the kiss, hands going to his torso. You gently squeezed, feeling the muscles you been appreciating not so long ago.All thoughts that weren’t Dean had left your mind, your only focus being your boyfriend.

The heat between you both had become more sultry than the blazing sun. The kiss quickly deepened, both as desperate for one another as the day you had first met.

You momentarily pulled back just to tell him that you needed him. In fact, you craved him. Your hands moved under his shirt, feeling his abs beneath your fingers and gently scratching with your nails.

“Yeah, Baby?”

Baby? In the years you and Dean had been together, he had never called you ‘baby’. Baby was his car, not anyone else — not even you. You blinked, the man seemingly realising the effect that word had on you.

You licked your bottom lip, gently pushing him back to sit in the driver’s seat of his car. You placed your hands on his knees, spreading his legs just enough for you to slot your body in between them.

His breath hitched when your hand brushed against his hardened bulge and you raised your eyes to his as you unzipped his jeans, pulling them down his thighs with some help. His cock bounced against his stomach, and he hissed in pleasure as you grasped him in your hand.

He squeezed his eyes shut when you spread the precum over his head, letting out a low grown. You licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as he looked down at you. You swirled your tongue around the head before taking more into your mouth.

"Fuck, Baby.”

You moaned around him, his hand coming to rest at back of your head. You breathed slowly out of your nose as you moved down, wrapping a hand around what you couldn't fit in your mouth. You started bobbing your head, hollowing out your cheeks as your lover trembled beneath you.

"Good girl.”

You fastened your movements, though Dean stopped you a few moments later. He grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you up onto his lap, a leg either side of his waist. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel how wet you were, soaked through your underwear.

Dean didn’t even bother with pulling down, simply moving them to the side in his desperation. Quiet moans escaped you as the head of his cock met your slick entrance, always proving his preparation irrelevant.

"Christ, Sweetheart... This worked up over me?" His smug smile eventually turned into a bitten lip as he eased himself into you, his lack of self control overrunning any wit to him he had left. "That's it..."

With your hands on his shoulders and his on your waist, your movements had to be second nature by now. His stubble dragged across your neck, making you shudder with pleasure as he left kisses along your collarbone.

You moaned as you lifted up only to sit back down on him. His cock hit that spot inside you perfectly, your head thrown back in ecstasy, and your legs slightly shook as the pleasure rippled through your body, toes curling.

"Good girl," Dean praised, voice deep and raspy from his sybaritism. He let out a moan of his own as he felt you clench around him, clearly enjoying yourself. "You like that?"

"Mhm," you nodded, a whimper leaving you as you sped up. "Fuck."

He reciprocated the sound, biting his lip as he stared down at where you both were joined. He could see your slick coating him, a white ring around the base. Dean always loved to watch you take him, especially when he could sit back and watch you ride him.

"Gonna cum," you told him, nails digging into his shoulders. At this, Dean grabbed your hips tighter and began pounding up into you.

Your mouth was open as a constant stream of moans and whimpers left unashamedly. One of his hands moved down, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your bundle of nerves, and a sharp gasp left your lips.

Everything went quiet as white hot pleasure rolled through your body, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You clung onto him for dear life, legs shaking around his thick thighs.

"Where?" Dean asked through gritted teeth.

"Inside. Cum inside me. Please.”

You knew it wasn't exactly smart, seeing as he wasn't wearing any protection, but you needed to feel him. He kept the same pace, no longer caring about your pleasure and simply chasing his own high.

"God damn-!" Dean groaned, slamming into you one final time. His orgasm triggered another for you, squeezing around him tightly.

After a moment, you sighed, laying your head on his shoulder whilst still feeling him pulse inside of you. Your chest rose and fell against his own, heavy breaths being traded between the two of you.

You lifted slightly as Dean pulled out, though you stayed on his lap, in his arms. His hand moved to your waist, thumb gently rubbing it as he kissed your forehead.

"Ah, son of a bitch,” he suddenly said, gaining your attention. You lifted your head from his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing slightly in silent question. “I didn’t finish my lemonade.”

[supernotnatural2005]

'Ride em' Cowgirl'

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY, swearing, fluff.

AN: Here it is, the requested part 2 of my 'Giddy up Cowboy' Drabble. I'm blown away by all of the love and support on my work lately and had to give you something tasteful in return for all your lovely appreciation. I hope you enjoy ☺️

Tagging: @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog and @rizlowwritessortof

Main Masterlist

The ride back to the motel feels like an eternity. The engine of the Impala hums beneath you, a comforting sound you’ve grown used to over the past few months of hunting with the Winchesters. But tonight, that familiar hum does little to calm the storm that’s building in the air between you and Dean.

Sam sits in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the electricity crackling in the space between you and his older brother. His head is turned slightly, eyes focused on his phone as he scrolls through something, probably researching the next hunt. He’s completely oblivious, lost in his world, but you and Dean? You're both caught up in something far more dangerous.

You shift in your seat, the leather of the Impala's interior squeaking slightly beneath you, but it’s nothing compared to the way your body is reacting to the proximity of Dean, to the memory of the words you said back at the bar. "I think I can ride him better." The double meaning of the comment, the tease that you’d laid on him, was still hanging heavily in the air.

You glance at him, his profile visible from the corner of your eye. His jaw is tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too hard, and you can’t help but notice the way his bicep flexes with the tension. The urge to reach over and touch him, to bridge that last bit of space between you, is almost overwhelming.

Sam’s voice pulls you from your thoughts as he glances over his shoulder, a slight grin on his face. “You two are awfully quiet. You sure everything’s alright?”

Dean clears his throat, his voice low, a little too steady. “Yeah, we’re fine, Sammy. Just tired.”

Sam nods, not catching the edge in his brother’s voice, and goes back to whatever he’s reading on his phone. You, however, catch the way Dean’s eyes flicker to you—a brief glance, but enough to make your pulse quicken. You feel that familiar heat rise between you both, the kind that only the two of you understand.

Every mile feels like it stretches on forever. You catch Dean’s gaze again, and this time, his eyes linger a little longer, something raw and unspoken in them. You know he’s struggling to keep his composure, just as you are.

Finally, the motel comes into view. The neon lights of the sign flicker, the soft hum of the parking lot filling the quiet car. Sam lets out a loud yawn and stretches, oblivious to the way the tension between you and Dean has reached its breaking point.

“Man, I’m pretty beat.” Sam says, giving you both a tired smile as he climbs out of the car. You and Dean follow suit, both of you stepping out with a quiet but unmistakable urgency.

Dean’s hand brushes against yours as he walks you to your room—just a few doors before his and Sam’s, and it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You both stand there for a moment, looking at your motel room door in front of you, the unspoken weight of everything you've both been avoiding for so long finally sinking in. 

Sam walks on ahead, muttering something about needing to “hit the hay,” and you both watch as he disappears into the room before Dean turns to you, his voice low and controlled. 

"You weren’t kidding earlier, huh?”

"No," you say, your voice just above a whisper, because you can’t take it anymore, and it’s enough to send the heat between you two spiralling. "I wasn’t.”

Dean doesn’t need any more encouragement. He moves first, closing the distance between you two with a single, decisive step. His lips crash against yours, hard and desperate—like he’s been holding back everything he’s been feeling for far too long. 

His mouth is warm and insistent, and you open up to him instinctively, your hands finding their way to the open fabric of his flannel, pulling him even closer. 

You moan into the kiss, clinging to him as if he were your last source of oxygen. Consuming what he was willing to give as long as he was willing to give it. Dean’s hands slide down to your hips, gripping hard enough to leave small fingerprint indents when your tongue slides past his lips. His responding groan is low, bordering on a growl, and he walks you back against your door, his hands unable to stay in one place for too long. 

His touch, his scent, and his delectable mouth were quickly descending you into a state of ecstasy. You were already hooked and desperate for more. 

“Inside.” You mumble against his lips, and he offers you a curt nod before he breaks the kiss, allowing you a moment to breathe as you turn to unlock your door. He’s already pressing himself against you from behind, his hands wandering from your hips to boldly cupping your breasts over your thin t-shirt, beneath your jacket.

It takes you until your third try before you finally stumble inside. Dean quick to kick the door shut with his foot as he ravishes your neck with wet kisses and thumbs at your pebbled nipples poking through your lace bra, risen from both his ministrations and the cool air.

You push back against him and gasp at the feel of his obvious arousal through his jeans. His reaction to you sent a thrill of excitement through you as well as a feeling of pride swelling in your chest. 

"Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.” Dean pants into your neck as you roll your hips against him. He presses into you with each roll, making his eyes roll back and his hands move to find purchase on your hips again. 

“I think I have some notion.” You quip with one last push back against him before turning in his arms. You offer him a sly smile and look up at him through your lashes as you trail and hand down his firm chest and over his toned stomach before cupping him through his jeans. His hips instinctively thrust into your palm, and you grant him some relief by adding pressure and rubbing your hand along his length. 

His gaze is stormy as he looks down at you, watching you watch your own hand grope him in wonder. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. Suddenly, he pulls your hand from him, the feeling both incredible yet frustratingly not enough, and you look up at him in question, but he’s quick to reclaim your lips again. 

The urgency from before is back with a vengeance as you claw at each other’s clothes, peeling away layers upon layers between heated kisses, until finally, you’re left in nothing but your panties, and Dean in his boxers. 

His gaze roams over you unapologetically, taking in every curve and scar; your heaving breasts on display with a hunger you’d never seen in another man's eyes before. But there was more behind his desire. There was a look of longing, of wanting this for so long and finally having it, simmering within those pools of green. And you understood. Because you felt the exact same. 

As if in sync, you reached for one another again. Dean’s hands framed your face as he dipped down to kiss you again. This time softer, more tender, making you all but melt into his arms. He walked you backwards, never parting his lips from yours, until the backs of your thighs met the edge of the mattress. 

You pulled away from him then and climbed up onto the bed, with him quickly following, crawling up and over you like a predator stalking his prey. Your head fell back onto the pillows as his firm body covered yours, his mouth quickly attaching itself to your neck, kissing, sucking, and nibbling at the tender flesh until you were bucking your hips up against him. 

He smirks into your neck, loving the fact you were so reactive to him, even by the simplest of touches. He decides to give you some relief and trails his mouth down your body, stopping at your chest. He waited for you to look at him, his warm breath fanning over your perked nipple, and only when you finally meet his gaze does he wrap his lips around your pebbled nub. 

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, watching his eyes fall shut as he sucked and nibbled at your nipple. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and your hips ground for any kind of friction to relieve the building ache between your legs. Your hand slid into his hair, pulling harshly at the soft spikes atop his head, making him groan, and the vibration sent tiny shocks of pleasure throughout your nerve endings. 

He moves onto your other breast, the wetness of your abandoned nipple cooling against the air conditioning unit, softly buzzing in the background, the feeling only adding to the incredible pleasure his mouth was giving your other breast. 

“Fuck, Dean.” You gasp, just as his left hand trailed down your side and sneakily slipped into your panties. Two of his thick digits were quick to find your clit and you shuddered from the contact. He begins to circle your bundle of nerves slowly, much like the motion of his tongue against your nipple. 

You fist his hair again, moaning loudly as he dips an experimental finger into your soaked hole, gathering your wetness and resuming his attention back on your clit. 

“You’re so wet, baby.” He grunts against your chest, frowning in concentration as he picks up his pace. “That all for me?” All you could do was nod and then cry out as his fingers rubbed you faster, sending jolts of pleasure down to the tips of your toes, which soon curled as your body began to tense. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You repeated it like a mantra, the coil in your belly wound tight and ready to spring. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum all over my fingers.” He husks in your ear, and you look down your body, watching the muscles in his forearm dance with effort from the maddening pace of the hand buried deep in your underwear. The sight was your undoing, and your whole body stiffened. Mouth dropping open in a silent scream, the sound trapped in your throat as your body convulsed and shuddered against him. 

Dean’s hand began to slow with your descent into bliss, coming to a complete stop once you deflated back onto the mattress, completely boneless. 

“Holy shit.” You huffed with an incredulous chuckle because, holy shit. You’re not even sure you’d ever come so hard with your own hand. And if just his fingers could bring you so much pleasure, it left you wondering what else you were in store for. Although you didn’t have to wonder for much longer when Dean shifted beside you and you felt the straining press of his cock against your thigh. 

You turned to him and cupped his cheek with your right hand, pulling him into a slow and sensuous, grateful kiss. He hummed happily against your lips as you rolled him onto his back. His arms coming up to wrap around you, to keep you close as you took his breath away. 

With him distracted, you grasped his tented length, massaging him as best you could through the fabric of his boxers. He broke the kiss and dropped his head back against the pillows, eyes shut tight as you relieved some of the pressure. 

You smiled devilishly at him and rose to your knees beside him. He watched you in wonder as you peeled the last item of clothing from him, helping you by lifting his hips. Your eyes widened in both shock and amazement at the sight of him. Your mouth watered and pussy throbbed, desperate for a taste, for the feel of him inside you. 

You gathered him in your hand, relishing in the warm weight of his impressive cock. Dean released a deep sigh at the feel of your delicate hand slowly, teasingly pumping him. He was as hard as granite, throbbing in your hand, and you marvelled at the way your simple movements had him panting, wanting and desperate beneath you. 

Laying comfortably between his parted thighs, You ran your tongue along the length of him. The deep, responsive moan from him giving you the encouragement to do it again and again until he was slick with your saliva and fisting the sheets beneath him tight. 

“Holy.. shit.” Dean gasped as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his silky head before sinking your mouth onto him. The action brought with it a salty tang and a variety of praises and profanities. Between your legs, a new wave of wetness coated your already ruined underwear as you worked him over in your mouth and with your hand. 

Looking up at him, he was a sight to behold. His skin glistening, chest heaving, sinful lips parted, and eyes squeezed shut. He was beautiful in every scenario it seemed. 

“Oh God.” Dean’s eyes snapped open then, his body tensing, and he quickly sat up, pulling you from him. You looked at him alarmed, wiping at the spit collected at the corners of your mouth. 

“What? What’’s wrong?” You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to take a few deep breaths before he released a breathless chuckle.

“You were about to make me cum.” He told you honestly, and you blushed a little, but wondered why he’d stopped you? 

“And?” You giggled softly, though squeaked, when he suddenly manhandled you into his lap. You had to bite back a groan at the feel of his hard length bumping against you through your panites. 

“And? I was promised a ride.” His voice is low and sultry, but his face is filled with his usual boyish, giddy excitement. You giggled and shook your head, realising you’d somehow fallen for a complete dork. 

You cup his scruffy cheeks in your palms and plant a warm kiss against his lips, the smiles on your faces quickly fading as your tongue swept against his, reigniting the ache between your legs and the need for more. 

You reluctantly pull away and slide off of him, removing and kicking away your underwear before climbing back onto him. He welcomes you eagerly, claiming your mouth once again with a kiss filled with passion and ignition. 

You slowly guide him onto his back and pull away breathless. His hands slide from your back to your hips as you sit up, grinning down at him. His green eyes look up at you, dark and entranced, roaming over every inch of you in amazement. 

You bite down on your lip as you settle against him, the wet seam of your pussy covering his length, making you both groan at the contact. You roll your hips experimentally, your head falling back as you steadied yourself against his firm stomach, picking up your pace until you were slick and ready. 

“Fuck sweetheart. You’re a dream.” Dean says breathlessly and with an honest gaze. You smirk down at him, slowing your roll, and he watches you. 

“I think it’s time I make do on that promise.” You tell him. “Think I can last the full 90 minutes?” You tease, and Dean chuckles, rubbing lovingly at your thighs, hips, and up your sides. 

“I have no doubts, baby.” 

In one swift movement, you rise up on your knees and grasp his length, angling him just right before you sink down onto him. Both of your mouths drop open in respective pleasure. You’re slick enough to take him most of the way, only rocking gently a few times until he’s fully sheathed. 

“Fuuck.” He moans, and it’s long and drawn out because Dean can’t quite fathom the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him. He’s been to heaven, hell, and everything in between, but this was something else entirely. The best pie he’d ever tasted, the feeling he got behind the wheel of baby—all things paling in comparison to this moment.

Once the initial stretch of him blurred from pain into pleasure, did you then rise up and slowly slide back down, gasping in almost disbelief at the incredible feel of him inside you. You repeated the movement again and again until you built up a steady rhythm, rocking, rolling, and grinding your hips to find the most intense spots of pleasure. 

All the while Dean let you ride him, watching in awe as you did in fact “ride him better." However, to give you a challenge, he bucked his hips up into you, meeting you thrust for thrust. You held on tightly, eyes rolling back at the much harsher thrusts hitting you just right, but you weren’t about to let him win. 

With one hand firmly planted on his chest, you leaned back, reaching your arm around to fondle his balls. Dean jolted in surprise but moaned deep and loud as you gently caressed them in your palm. You smiled in triumph as he relinquished his thrusts, and you sped up your movements, feeling his balls draw tight. 

“Oh, fuck, oh shit.” His words were breathless and strained as his body tensed, brow furrowing, hands gripping tight onto your hips as he came. Hard. You felt his warm seed coat your walls along with a long, deep groan as you circled your hips, milking every last drop. 

You grinned down at him as he collapsed back onto the bed, panting hard and weightless. You could feel him still twitching inside you, and you involuntary clenched at the sensation, making his head pop back up to look at you. 

His eyes were wild, his chest flushed red, and wordlessly he slid a hand over to your lower stomach, his thumb pressing against your sensitive clit, making you gasp. Dean’s eyes closed at the feeling of you clenching around him but began circling your clit with the digit, watching on in admiration as you slowly rocked your hips into his hand, chasing your own sweet release. 

Dean was a generous lover, but you’d given him a run for his money in that department tonight. It was only common curtesy he had you come again. Even if your pussy was all but strangling his sensitive cock, it felt incredible—a sensation he’d never felt before. He could feel himself hardening again at just the sight and feel of you, surprising you as much as himself. 

“Oh God.” You cried out, your walls fluttering around him as you ground into his hand, his thumb flicking against your clit, harder and faster until you were shaking above him. Then he thrust his hips up, once, twice, three times, and you were falling apart. Your body tensed and twitched above him, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as the white hot pleasure of your orgasm rippled through you.  

“Shit.” Your eyes popped open when you felt it. Warmth spread inside you for a second time as Dean cried out in painful pleasure. Holy shit was all that you could comprehend as he tensed beneath you. 

Shocked silence filled the room as you both stared at one another, catching your breaths, until a chuckle of disbelief slipped from his lips, triggering your own laughter.  

You fell onto his chest, letting his soft cock slip from you with a slight hiss from him. You soothed a hand a long his chest, planting a sweet kiss there before leaning up and coming face to face with him. 

"So, was I…Better?” You wondered curiously, whilst absently playing with his mused, sweat slicked hair. Dean grinned in response and cupped your jaw tenderly. 

"Oh, you so were." He replied before pulling your lips to his. 

AN: Okay so this one was just pure smut! 😂 but let me know what you think? Was this a good tie up for these two 👀

[jasvtsc]

dean winchester x angel!reader headcanons!!!

his favorite nickname gotta be birdie

however, when he’s mad or annoyed he’s naming all different types of birds he can think of

pigeon and parrot being the most frequent ones

he washes your hair for you

at this point it’s a habit of his and he finds it soothing, just spending some quality time with you

you ask him a lot of questions AND I MEAN A LOT

when you see sth new or hear about sth he’s the first person you come to for explanation

at first he found it annoying and would often told you to ‘get lost’ or ‘ask sammy’ — because of his initial dislike of angels

but as the time went by he started finding it adorable — you just wanted to spend more time with him

he knows you’re a celestial being, a literal angel, but that doesn’t mean that this man does not worry

CAUSE HE DOES

a tiny scratch? dean’s PANICKING

the distressed ‘BIRDIE’ or ‘SWEETHEART’ being heard within 10 miles radius

you’re certified john winchester hater

if it was up to you? you’d kick him out of heaven for good (along with mary)

he takes you on late night drives, playing all his favorite songs and showing you ‘what being a human is really about’

dean cusses like a sailor and throws the word ‘motherfucker’ left and right

however, as soon as you’re around he goes quiet and acts like a saint

WE SAY NO TO ANGEL CORRUPTION! ~ said by dean winchester at some point in his life

he’s ready to beat up sam when a small ‘shit’ slips out of his mouth

if you ever thought that dean would be whipped for someone? HE ABSOLUTELY FUCKING WOULD

he absolutely loves running his fingers through your wings (and he knows it makes you excited…)

he doesn’t let you use your powers on him — except for when he’s badly hurt

although as soon as you could make a pie appear out of nowhere he changed his mind about that

you’re his sweetheart and he’ll do anything to protect you (once again, you’re an angel but he cares so <3 )

a/n: dean x angel!reader might be my favorite trope of all time I SWEAR

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Protector

Requested by @captaincvans

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, a little bit of Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: your big brother Dean has always been your protector

It started when you were four years old. Dean answered one of John’s phones, and was shocked to hear your tiny voice on the other end.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?”

“My mommy,” you were sobbing into the phone, and Dean’s heartbeat picked up. Had someone hurt the little girl on the other end? “My mommy said to call if-if bad things happened. She said it was my daddy’s number.”

To say Dean was shocked would be the understatement of the century, but he forced himself to remain calm, if only for the little girl who clearly needed help. John had gone out on a job, and Sam had walked to a nearby store to grab some supplies.

“Ok, well where’s your mommy?”

“The monster…he-he…” you broke down into sobs, and Dean didn’t need to hear anything else.

Dean was usually used to waiting for John’s orders before doing just about anything, but somehow now he knew just what to do. Every instinct inside him screamed to help you from the moment he heard your voice.

He didn’t know then, but that instinct would follow him for the rest of his life.

…

Dean’s relationship with you was different than his with Sam. Dean had practically raised Sam, but he literally raised you. The older the boys got, the more John left them for hunts. And there was the age difference; he was only four years older than Sam, but Dean had already grown up and started hunting by the time you came into his life. And after John died, the two of you became closer than ever, and he took on his role as caretaker even more seriously.

So, needless to say, hunting wasn’t in the cards for you. Of course Dean taught you how to defend yourself, but he knew that once you started hunting, you’d be stuck in that life forever, and that wasn’t a choice he was going to let you make as a teenager.

A part of you always wanted to fight him on it, not because you thought you’d love hunting, but because your big brothers risked their lives on an almost-daily basis, and you wanted to be there to help them. However, it didn’t take long for you to realize that being on a hunt would just put them in more danger; Dean would be so worried about you that he wouldn’t keep his head on straight. You weren’t going to be the reason he got distracted and killed on a hunt.

So you stayed behind.

But that didn’t mean that you were always safe.

…

“Crowley I swear, if you touch one hair on her head-“

“Let me guess, they’ll never find the body?”

“Oh no, they will,” Dean’s fists were clenched so hard, his palms were going numb. “They’ll find it, and they’ll keep finding it. Little bits, everywhere, maybe I’ll even drop you in a couple of different states. I’ll cut you up nice and slow, it’ll take weeks before you’re dead, and that’s if I’m feeling generous enough to let you die at all.”

“My my my, someone is very protective about his little pet. However, your mummy should’ve taught you some manners, because you see…” Dean flinched when he heard your screams over the phone. “I don’t like to be threatened, squirrel.”

“Ok, ok!” Dean relented. Your screams stopped.

“Good. Now, here’s my ultimatum,” Crowley’s voice rose in anger, “If you ever want to see this little runt again, the first thing you’re gonna do, is drop the attitude, and show some respect!” Crowley cleared his throat, and returned to his easygoing, neutral tone. “After all, I am the king of hell. And then, after that, you’re going to stop meddling in my affairs. That’s not so bad, is it?”

Dean was about to throw out a snarky response when your voice broke in.

“Don’t listen to him, Dean. He’s just a liar, he’ll betray y-“ your desperate, frightened voice cut off with a high-pitched scream, and Dean could swear he heard Crowley laughing.

“Now now, darling, that’s not very nice. Name-calling is for children. Oh that’s right,” Crowley’s laughter started up again. “You are a child.”

“Stop it!” Not seeing what was going on was driving Dean insane. He could only imagine what Crowley was doing to you. “Alright, Crowley, you get what you want. Just let her go!”

The screaming stopped again.

“Now, that’s sweet, Dean. But I’m afraid I don’t exactly trust your word. So, I’m going have to keep your little rugrat here for a little longer, just to make sure you make good on your promise. Deal?”

“No no no, Crowley you can’t just-“

“I think we’re done here.”

The click that followed might as well have been an atomic bomb.

…

“We got a location.”

Dean had never jumped up that fast in his entire life.

“Finally, let’s go.”

“Dean, hold on,” Sam placed his hand out, stopping Dean in his tracks. “We don’t know how many demons are guarding it.”

“You know what, Sam? I don’t really care. There could be a thousand demons in there for all I care. She’s in there, so I’m going.” Dean brushed past Sam, who reluctantly followed him into the Impala.

“I’m just saying, it would be nice to have a plan.”

“I have a plan.” Dean peeled out of the driveway and sped along the road.

“The plan is get her back.”

…

You heard them before you saw them. It would be impossible not to; the screaming of demons and the thud as bodies hit the floor wasn’t exactly quiet.

However, when the door burst open, it wasn’t your brothers who came in.

Crowley rushed toward you, his hand outstretched to grab you and teleport you with him. A split second before his hand reached your shoulder, the demon blade whizzed past his ear and struck his arm, throwing him off balance and onto the floor. Before he could get back up, Dean was on him, not even bothering with the knife as he pounded on Crowley’s face. Sam rushed in after him, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and pulling him off.

“That’s enough, Dean! Just use the kni-“

Before either brother could move towards the demon blade, Crowley had disappeared.

“No!” Dean slammed his fist against the wall, and was about to do it again when he heard it.

“Dean?”

Never, not even when you were little, had Dean ever heard you sound so small; so fragile. He turned, his gaze instantly softening, his fists relaxing as he rushed to your side. He quickly untied the ropes holding you to a metal chair, and as soon as you were free you collapsed into his waiting arms.

“You’re ok,” Dean’s eyes stung as he gripped you tightly to him. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

“Is she ok?” Sam stepped up behind Dean, and Dean reluctantly pulled away to check you for injuries.

There was a gash along your cheek, and he saw several cuts on your arms and legs, but what really worried him was the blood covering the front of your shirt.

“Baby, can you…” Dean touched the pool of blood dripping down your stomach. You lifted your shirt a few inches, and he saw a deep cut running along your ribs. Blood was still gushing freely from the cut, and Dean quickly removed his top layer of flannel, pressing it against the wound.

Sam flinched when you cried out, and Dean winced.

“I know, I know it hurts honey. I need you to hold it there, though.” You took the shirt from him and he nodded, “Yeah, good, press it tight.” He glanced around one more time to be sure no demons were coming, before he scooped you into his arms. You cried out again when he jostled you, and he tried to ignore you as he turned to Sam.

“You gotta watch my back, I’ve got her, but I don’t know if there are any more demons still here.”

Sam nodded, taking the demon blade.

“Alright, I’ll drive.”

…

“Do we need to take her to a hospital?” Sam glanced to the back of the Impala, where your head was resting in Dean’s lap as he held his shirt against your cut.

“I’m ok,” your voice was quiet, almost sleepy.

“We should take her in,” Dean insisted.

“It doesn’t look like she’s lost that much blood,” Sam hesitantly argued.

“Dean, I’m ok,” you turned your gaze from your injury to your big brother. “Really, just stitch me up. I’ll be fine.”

Dean relented hesitantly, mostly because he didn’t put it past Crowley to try to alert local authorities to all the bodies he’d left in his wake saving you. The last thing you needed was to be stuck in a hospital while Sam and Dean got arrested.

“Alright, ok. But you gotta stay awake, understand?”

You were silent for a few seconds, and when your voice lifted he could hear the tears you were trying to hold back.

“He wouldn’t let me sleep.”

Dean felt the white-hot anger rising in him, but he forced it down.

“You…but you were gone for three days.”

“I know. But ev-every time I tried to sleep…” you picked at one of the cuts, and Dean got the picture. He glanced up to see Sam gripping the steering wheel with all his might, his knuckles turning snow-white.

“I’m sorry,” Dean’s soft voice was only beat by the softness in his eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m so sorry. But you gotta stay awake just a little bit longer, I’m sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t just apologizing for that.

“Dean, it’s not your fault.”

He turned to look out the window, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

“Dean,” you tried to raise your voice, but it just sent you into a fit of coughing. His head whipped back to look at you, and he squeezed his hand under your head, lifting you up a little so you could breathe.

“Honey, don’t talk, don’t talk. You’re ok, just breathe.”

“Dean,” you took a deep breath, “Dean it’s not. It’s not your fault-“

“Shh, shh,” he insisted, eyes flitting nervously over your face. “Kiddo please, don’t talk.”

“Then say it.”

Dean sighed, and you knew he wouldn’t mean it, but you wanted him to say it anyway.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

…

“I’m sorry,” Dean winced when you sucked in a breath, trying desperately to stay still as he sewed you up.

“I’m ok,” you insisted.

“Ok, I’m done,” Dean tied off the last stitch, and you hesitantly stood and headed to your bathroom to shower off the blood that was all but covering you.

Dean sat on your bed while you were gone, staring down at the blood on his hands, disgusted but somehow unable to get up to wash it off.

He stayed there until you returned, a clean shirt and your pajama pants on. You stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. You tugged on his arm without speaking, and he followed you mechanically as you pulled him into your bathroom.

You turned on the sink water and guided his hands under the flow, rubbing his hands until they were clean and your blood was running down the drain. You handed him a soft towel, and he slowly dried his hands.

The two of you stood there in silence, unsure of whether to move or not. Then suddenly, the two of you moved in sync. He opened his arms just as you moved towards him, and he wrapped you into his arms. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, while the other rested on the small of your back. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you knew that you could scream it til doomsday and Dean still wouldn’t believe it. So instead you said what he needed to hear.

“I’m ok.”

…

You weren’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep during your captivity, and you knew it. Dean looked horrible, his eyes dark and his hair greasy and sticking out in strange angles. You didn’t think you could convince him to eat or shower, not yet at least. He hadn’t left your side in the hour since you got back, and you figured he would want to watch over you while you slept.

So, if you couldn’t make him eat, you figured you at least knew a way to make him sleep.

You let him tuck you into your bed before grabbing onto his arm as he turned to go.

“Stay with me,” you insisted. He nodded and reached to grab a chair.

“No, with me,” you lifted a corner of the blanket. Dean didn’t speak, he just climbed in next to you and let you lean against his arm.

After a few minutes, Dean’s breathing evened out and you smiled.

He was your protector, always.

But maybe there was some ways that you could save him, too.

[castiwls]

enchanted .ᐟ

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'I'll spend forever wondering if you knew. I was enchanted to meet you'

Requested; @4catsinacult

Notes; the adhd is bad rn but I'm trying to get back into writing (its a slow process sadly)

also requests are open again!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

The last time you’d seen Sam Winchester you were 15. You’d been knee-deep in your own self-proclaimed ‘awkward phase’ that you’d spent the whole two weeks hiding from both him and his brother. 

However, you’d quickly found out that the younger Winchester was more than determined to befriend you before your time together was up. You’d been nothing short of a blushing, stuttering mess the first time he’d cornered you outside your dad’s motel room. He’d been quick to invite you to a diner with him and his brother claiming that he needed ‘company from someone who didn’t hit on anything that breathes’

Safe to say you’d been smitten almost immediately. Even at 15, you’d known that Sam Winchester was very possibly the guy of your dreams. He’d been…different to all the other boys your age, he’d rather talk about whatever book had been in your bag when you’d met at the diner over thinking of how long it would take to convince you to make out - a situation you were annoyingly more than used to. 

You’d spent those few weeks in your own little bubble almost. You’d finally found someone who had taken a genuine interest in you yet all that wonder had been over shadowed by the fact that these feelings were teenage feelings. 

You’d simply put your feelings down to heightened teenage emotions and you’d pushed down the hurt upon leaving the two once the hunt had been over.

8 Years later Sam Winchester was but a distant memory. You’d briefly heard through contacts that both were still alive and in the businesses (something which filled you with more relief than you'd ever admit) yet physically they were nothing but two ghosts of your past.

You’d never imagined the next time you’d come face to face with him would be over a dead body. The morge was only small - barely big enough for the two of you alongside the long table meaning that you had no choice but to stand uncomfortably close.

Sam, it seemed had only grown into his looks over the last ten years and you could only pray that the warmth that pooled in your stomach had not also become visible on your cheeks. 

“So…” You mused watching him inspect the body. “It’s been a while?”

Sam hummed looking up, a small smile pulling at his lips. His own heart had almost beat out of his chest when you’d appeared in the doorway and the sound of your voice after all this time only elevated it more. “Yeah.” He nodded mentally cursing himself as you both fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence. 

‘Yeah?’ You were finally in the same room as him after almost a decade and the only thing he could say was ‘yeah’. Talking to girls had never really been an issue yet suddenly coming face to face with you made him feel like an awkward 15-year-old again who could barely get out two words to a girl before turning bright red.

“I’m sorry about your dad.” You broke the silence, tapping your pen against the pad in your hand. Sam looked back up, placing his hands on the table. “Thanks.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, letting out a quiet breath. 

You both lapsed into quiet as he continued to look over the body while you noted anything of importance. “How did you find out about…” He gestured to the body as he binned his gloves. “Oh…your brother actually.” A frown tugs at your lips as you recall the phone call you’d received earlier in the day. “Said he was sick and didn’t want the case to go undelt with.” 

Sam’s eyebrows drew together for a moment as he thought. “Dean called you?” A frown pulled at his lips. Why would the dean have called you to help? He could well and truly handle this on his own….oh. 

A quiet groan left him as he pressed a hand to his head. Dean barely listened to him most of the time and the one time he does it's about a girl he had a crush on ten years ago. 

“You okay?” Concern flashed in your eyes as you followed him to the door. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine just…Dean being Dean.” He shook his head sending you a smile as he held the door.

“I’m guessing he’s not changed much, judging by that groan.” You teased lightly as you both passed the reception desk. Sam laughed. “No. No, he’s not changed at all, just about as mature as a 19-year-old still.”

A laugh left your own lips as you reached your car, leaning against it you turned to Sam. A quiet noise left you as you realised just now how close he suddenly was. You held up your notebook. “I…i can send you all the notes.” You mumbled, praying your cheeks weren’t currently burning up.

Sam nodded looking over your shoulder for a moment. “Yeah…yeah, that would be great.” You were so close, if he just shifted ever so slightly his chest would press against yours. 

He’d dreamt of being this close to you when you were both teenagers, but no dream could replace how it actually felt to have you less than an arm's reach away. Yet he still had absolutely no idea how you felt.

Throughout those two weeks you’d never once openly showed any sort of attraction - something which had given him more than one sleepless night. 

Even now, ten years later those feelings seemed to return, leaving him light-headed and struggling not to trip over his own words. 

Yet you seemed completely unbothered.

“We…we could go over them together?” You suggested after a moment. “If Dean’s sick i doubt you're gonna get any peace.” You took a breath waiting almost anxiously as he seemed to think it over.

Time seemed to stretch and you were just about to make an excuse to leave when he nodded. “Sure. I’d like that”

—

Three hours later you found yourself spread out over the covers of the motel's bed. A notebook was placed beside you as you slowly scrolled through an article on your laptop. 

Sam had taken residence on the small table, his own papers were strewn out across the surface. “You know it's funny, the last time I saw you, you were doing the same thing.” You smiled leaning your chin on your fist. 

‘It’s cute’ You thought to yourself as he chewed on a pen for a moment. He suddenly looked up, his eyes wide. “Did-” He pulled the pen from his mouth. “Did you say something?” His cheeks flushed slightly as he placed the pen down. You’d been quiet for so long he’d honestly forgotten that you were in the room. 

“I was just saying how it's funny the last time I saw you, you were doing the exact same thing.” You gestured to the table with your free hand. Sam hummed. “Well, when I was 15 I was doing school work, now I'm…” He looked down at the paper, raising an eyebrow. “Trying to find out if vampires are currently hunting.” He laughed slightly - the situation still being slightly insane even if you were both more than used to it.

You nodded, a comfortable silence covering the room as you both simply stared for a moment. Biting down on your lip you cleared your throat. “It's sweet.” The words leave your lips before you can process it and almost immediately you feel your cheeks heat. “It’s… it's sweet that you still enjoy it.” You stumbled over your words praying to whatever was above that the floor would just open up then and there.

Sam watched, his heart seeming to grow as you buried your face into your hands, your feet falling flat on the bed behind you. “I don’t know why I said that.” Your voice was muffled as you spoke.

Sam felt a smile grow as he closed his laptop - the sight of you flustered slightly too endearing. “No. No, it's fine.” He stood moving to sit beside you on the bed. You peaked up from your arms. 

You stifled slightly as his palm landed on your back, rubbing small circles. “I don’t think i’ve actually ever had anyone call me sweet so thats a new one.” He mused, his tone light. 

You laughed quietly, almost melting into the bed as his hand continued to move. “It’s late. You wanna go get food?” Sam asked after a moment, his own heart still beating faster because you were letting him touch you like this. Hell, you’d just openly complimented him he truly felt as if he was on cloud nine.

“Yea. Yea, food is good.” You nodded shifting to sit up. You stood, still feeling the flush from your earlier blip. You moved - intending to go check just how red you’d become in the bathroom when a hand wrapped around your wrist.

His hand circled your wrist, the skin heating as he gently pulled you to stand between his legs. Sam’s smile had only grown softer as he looked you over for a minute. “If it makes you feel any better, I have definitely said worse in front of girls.” He reassured, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. 

He really had not changed, if you squinted you could almost see the same boy you’d met 10 years ago. 

“You were always so hard to read.” His voice was quiet as he spoke, his eyes dancing over your face. “Even when we were kids I…I could never figure out if you felt anything but…” His eyes lingered on your lips for a moment.

“You thought I was hard to read?” You cut him off. You thought that you’d been pretty open (much to your disdain) about your huge crush on him when you’d been a teen. You’d spent those two weeks doing everything in your power to appear normal yet you'd still lay in bed kicking yourself after each day.

“Sam, I thought you were hard to read.” 

He chuckled shaking his head. “Truthfully, those two weeks were torture. I wanted you to like me so bad.” He admitted quietly looking away. He wanted you to be more than just like him. He always had and the way you’d acted after calling him ‘sweet’ almost gave him hope.

“Of course I liked you.” Your hand guided his gaze back to your own. “I’ve always liked you, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” Your finger traced his cheek for a moment.

His eyes finally met yours and the room seemed to melt away until it was just you both left. His hand never left your wrist as he tugged you slightly closer, your knees hitting the bed. 

“Can I kiss you?” He mumbled, lips parting as his free hand pushed your hair back. 

“Please.”

[zepskies]

Dream With Me - Part 1

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized!Reader (Latina)

Summary: When your asshole ex-boyfriend calls for help on a case, you have a tough decision to make. But Dean isn’t going to let you do anything alone. AKA: The last hunt you, Sam, and Dean will ever go on together.

AN: Here we go, a three-part story for the Espresso-verse! This is set in the dreaded 15x20 (or the time gap within In Bad Weather.) There are implied references back to Devour Me and Show Me.

Word Count: 4.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, some spiciness, past body insecurity, references to body shaming, references to smut, PTSD, peril, blood and violence.

Start from the beginning of the series: ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: “On the Drop of a Dime”

Silence reigns as you and Dean get ready for bed. Tonight, it’s your boyfriend who’s watching you closely. 

Something’s off, he thinks, even as he checks you out in the little sleep shorts you just put on. It’s not the spandex ones he likes, but he still gets to see your familiar curves.

It's been a minute since he's gotten reacquainted. He and Sam just got back from a long hunt yesterday. You stayed home this time, for reasons Dean still hasn't totally figured out.

But his eyes trace over you, from thick thighs and tempting ass, to all of what you’re hiding under an old Def Leppard shirt. The rest, he can trace from memory alone.

You notice him watching you from his side of the bed. Your lips tug upwards.

“What?” you ask. Dean nods over, beginning to smile as well.

“Come ‘ere already.”

Huffing a little laugh, you tie your hair up in a big scrunchie and slide your way into bed, and into the inviting space between his arm and chest. He wraps that arm around your waist, pulling you comfortably close. You expel a deep breath and rest against him.

And you smile. “He’s snoring again.”

Miracle, a shaggy mutt Dean rescued, is curled up in his doggy bed at the foot of the humans’ bed where he likes to sleep. And rumble through his nose. He always goes to lay down when he sees Dean venture to the sink to brush his teeth. It’s like he knows his parents are about to go to sleep, so it’s his way of joining you.

“Dogs snore. Who knew?” Dean remarks.

“Who knew you’d be the one to get us a dog,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees in amusement. “Taking home strays is more your thing.”

You smirk at him. “Worked with you, didn’t it?”

Dean scoffs. “Hey, you moved in with me. Which makes you the stray.”

“Hey!” You shove at his shoulder. He traps your hand against his chest and tugs you in to kiss into your neck.

“Aw, but a sexy one,” he says, humming in pleasure against your skin, where he inhales that alluring mix of floral soap and coconutty shampoo. “Mmm. Less Annie, more Pretty Woman. Like Julia Roberts, if she had a Latina ass.”

You have to laugh, despite the arousing graze of his teeth against your pulse point. You hold him close by his shirt. He takes the scrunchie out of your hair with a practiced hand, letting the wild strands curl around his fingers. You tsk at him. He can never just let your hair be.

“Are you really comparing me to a prostitute right now?” you retort. You feel the shape of his grin against your skin.

“What can I say, baby? You’ve got moves,” Dean teases, low and gravel in your ear. A shiver runs down your spine, but you’re both turned on and incredulous all at once.

Again, you hit his shoulder with a burst of laughter. It briefly lightens you from the funk you’ve been in.

It’s been a couple of months since Sam, Dean, and Jack ended Chuck’s reign of terror. Jack snapped the world back into existence and brought you back, along with everyone else…and the monsters.

It means your work isn’t over, even though that work is starting to wear on you. You haven’t let this on to Sam or Dean, however. It’s just been this thing, weighing on you for two months.

Unlike them, you don’t have as much experience with apocalyptic-level events, let alone dying. (And coming back, for that matter.)

Dean’s lips begin to break you from those thoughts, however, when he blazes a warm trail of sensuous, grazing kisses up your neck. Then along the curve of your jaw, as he holds your other cheek. Finally, he claims your lips.

You breathe into it, and into him as he almost succeeds in distracting your weighted mind. You give him a couple of sweet kisses in return before you slowly break from him.

“You have another long drive tomorrow,” you remind him, rubbing a hand across his chest. “Maybe you should sleep.”

Dean frowns as he looks on you. He tries to read whatever you’re hiding back there, behind your eyes.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” he asks, and not for the first time. “Could use your help on the case.”

Sam already found another one: a string of suspicious murders in Boston—potentially a cursed Red Sox collectible cycling its way through unsuspecting baseball fans. In the morning, he and Dean are going out to investigate. You’ve elected to opt out. 

“It’s okay. I want to give Jody a visit,” you reply. You reach for the bedcovers to cover yourself up to your chest. Dean strokes your hip underneath.

“We could always swing by Sioux Falls after the hunt,” he says.

“It’s okay, baby. You and Sam go ahead,” you say. You twist away from him to turn off the light, but Dean stops you.

“All right,” he says with a sigh. “What’s going on?”

You raise a brow at him. “What?”

“You what,” Dean retorts. “This is the second time in a row that you’re blowing off a hunt.”

He’s right, but you don’t have a good answer for him. Your lips purse.

“I don’t know, I mean…are you going through some kind of slump?” he asks. “‘Cause you know I’ve been there.”

It’s your turn to sigh. You sit up in bed, and you debate the words you want to use to broach this with him. It’s been percolating in your mind for a while now, but it seems like this is the time to finally let it out.

“Okay, here it goes,” you mutter, trying to ignore your trepidation. “Do you ever think about…retiring?”

Dean’s attention piques, along with his frown.

“Retiring?” he repeats.

You reach out to grab his wrist, and you draw your thumb back and forth across his skin. 

“You ever think of…a house,” you pose. “Maybe a cozy cabin, or a little cottage-style thing somewhere, with a backyard for Miracle. And like, at least three bedrooms.” 

Dean smiles a little. He allows himself to contemplate the picture you’re painting.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why three bedrooms?” he asks.

Hope begins to flutter in your chest.

“Well, there’s our room of course,” you say, with a flirtatious gleam to your smile. “That’s where the magic happens.”

He smirks. “I’m in agreement so far.”

“Then there’s a guest room, for whenever Sam and Eileen come to visit,” you continue. “And then…there’s a third room for whatever we need.”

Your tone is leading him somewhere, along with your hand trailing up and down his arm.

“Like, you know, a gym. Or an office. Or a kid’s bedroom…or maybe two,” you say.

Dean’s expression slackens as surprise overtakes him. He probably should’ve known though.

“Two,” he intones, chuckling nervously. But, his face softens as he watches you with new understanding. “You’ve really been thinkin’ about that, huh?”

“Maybe,” you confess. You gain some courage and take in a deep breath. “Do you think about it? Dean, do you ever want to have a simpler life?”

He hums deep in contemplation. It’s a heavy sound, and it doesn’t spark your confidence.

“You know I’ve tried that before,” he says at last. “That life…sweetheart, it’s not my life. It never has been.”

“It could be,” you insist. “Chuck is done—”

“But the monsters ain’t,” Dean retorts. 

“There are other hunters,” you point out. “Haven’t you given enough? Haven’t we given enough?”

You squeeze his hand to punctuate your point. Dean glances down, feeling the near desperation in your grip. Eventually, he’s able to meet your eyes again.

“Look…I’m the Job, you know? What the hell would I even do if not this?” he says.

You raise up his hand and lay a kiss to his knuckles. You know he thinks being a hunter is all he’s good for—all he’s equipped to do. You also know that he’s so much more than the Job. 

“Dean, you’re one of the smartest, most resourceful people I know. You can…restore cars, build cars,” you suggest. Your excitement grows as you brainstorm for him. You tap on his thigh.

“Oh! You could open up a bar. Call it the Roadhouse, after the one your friends had. Or hey, we could open up a bakery. We’ll sell pies and flan and whatever the hell else you want me to make.”

You say that last bit with a giggle. It earns Dean’s smile, but you know, looking into his eyes, that he’s not convinced. You grab his hand again with both of yours.

“Come on, Dean. Dream with me for a second,” you implore. “I know we could do this. We could…we could have a different life. A peaceful life. We could have a family.”

Dean sighs, glancing down at his hands. They’re calloused and scarred, and he has the memories to match.

“I’m sorry,” he says at last. “I just uh…I think it’s too late for me to dream like that.”

Tears well up in your eyes as your heart begins to break. Dean sees the fractures, and immediately feels guilty for it.

“Sweetheart,” he tries, reaching out for you, but you shake your head and turn away from him. He feels the loss of your hand.

“Good night,” you say, more sharply than you mean to. I knew he wouldn’t go for it, and I opened my mouth anyway.

He touches your shoulder. “Hey, come on—”

“Good night, Dean,” you repeat. I knew he wouldn’t…

You shouldn’t have said anything. You turn off the lamp on your nightstand, casting the room into darkness.

Dean hesitates. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, even though he knows he has. He just doesn’t know how to comfort you this time. His hand falls away from you as he turns onto his back, his lips pressing together.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to go to bed angry,” he dryly remarks.

“I’m not angry,” you mutter.

She said, friggin’ angrily, Dean finishes in his mind.

He sighs and tries to go to sleep. 

In the morning, you’re quieter than usual. You keep saying you’re not mad. You keep telling him to forget about it. But after four years together, Dean knows when you’re pulling away from him. 

You don’t even make espresso from your little cafetera press, like you usually do. You’re rummaging through the pantry, seemingly trying to decide what you’re going to have for breakfast.

“Coffee?” Dean asks.

You point to the percolating machine that spits out normal black coffee—a silent gesture that tells him he should make it himself.

Which he does, while frowning in annoyance at your attitude. He thinks it might be good that he and Sam are leaving on this hunt soon. It’ll give you a chance to cool off, and Dean a chance to figure out how to make this right with you. The problem is, he knows he won’t be able to do that without giving you what you want.

Retired? He scoffs in his mind. Bobby and Rufus never fucking retired from the life. Hell, Dean never even thought he’d live this long.

And what happened to Bobby, Rufus, Ellen, Jo, Cas, and too many others…

Dean doesn’t let himself dwell on that interjecting thought for too long, even though it adds a familiar weight to his shoulders. He makes himself some buttered toast. He then sits across from Sam, who’s eating cereal while scrolling through the news on his laptop.

You sit next to Sam after grabbing a steaming cup of an Americano and a protein bar. Dean can tell by your face that you’re not enjoying either one. He debates if he should ask if you still plan to drive out to go see Jody today.

Sam glances over at his brother. He’s sensing the unspoken tension between you and Dean, but the latter can only give a small shake of his head.

You don’t want to know, Dean’s face says.

Your cell phone rings, breaking the silence. It’s an unknown number. You frown in confusion, but you still pick it up.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hey. It’s me.”

Your frown deepens. You think you know the voice on the line, but you figure you should make sure, before your shitty morning gets even better.

“Who’s this?” you ask.

“It’s Carter,” he replies.

In other words, your insufferable ex-boyfriend. The last time you saw him was at a wake for a fellow hunter, Alicia Jackson. By the end of it, Dean nearly broke the man’s hand by the table of mini quiche. 

“You have some goddamn audacity,” you say in a biting tone. It has both Sam and Dean perking up in curiosity. 

“You’re the one who didn’t change your number,” Carter points out. You sigh and cover your eyes with your hand. 

“Why the hell are you calling me?” you ask. There’s a pause on the other line, but you lose patience.

“Carter, don’t waste my time. What the hell do you want?”

At hearing that name, Dean’s face falls with a dark frown. You raise a placating hand to him while you listen. 

“I need your help,” Carter says. “I’m on this case. A town in Nebraska on the edge of the woods. Three infants taken from their cribs. Townsfolk have been hearing noises from the woods. Sound familiar?”

Unfortunately, it does. You remember a case you worked a few months before you met Carter, in a small rural town in Louisiana. It had affected you so deeply, you remember telling him about it, when you two were still together.

“A cadejo isn’t going to go that far north,” you say.

Originally from South America, cajedos are dog-like creatures, except for their hooves. They’re creatures of habit, and they like the warmth. They also prefer the taste of children. The younger the better.

“It will if it’s hungry,” Carter points out. “You’re the only one I know who’s hunted one of these things.”

“…Okay. Where are you?” you sigh in defeat. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Dean whisper-yells. Your lips purse, and again you raise a hand, wordlessly telling him to wait. 

“Arcadia,” Carter replies.

You shake your head at the prospect of actually going along with this. 

“You know I’m probably not going to meet you alone, right?” you say.

“Yeah, I heard Hasselhoff back there,” Carter remarks. “I’m sure he and the other Twin Terror will be right behind you.”

“If you’re gonna be an asshole, you can get fucked by the cadejo for all I care. Call another hunter.” You’re ready to hang up when Carter backtracks.

“Okay, okay! I can be civil,” he says. “Come on. I need your help.”

You deliberate internally with indecision as you set down your phone for a minute. You glance up at Dean, whose facial expression makes it pretty damn clear what his stance is. Sam seems to be waiting on whatever you decide, but is still wary.

You reluctantly hold the phone back to your ear.

“All right. I’ll be on the way in a bit,” you reply.

“Well, all right then. See you soon,” Carter says, in a quasi-flirtatious tone that makes you grimace in disgust.

You hang up the phone and set it down on the table in exasperation. When you raise your gaze, you find exactly what you expect to see.

Dean’s jaw is clenched.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was?” he asks. You frown at him in annoyance.

“You want to calm down?” you say.

“What, so I’m supposed to be okay with you agreeing to go see that son of a bitch?” Dean says. “After what happened last time?”

“Dean…” You rub at your forehead, frowning at the beginning of an ache behind your eyes. 

Sam knows instinctively that this is a conversation better had between just you and Dean, but he feels weird about getting up from the dining table. In his indecision, he stays. 

“This isn’t about me,” you say at last. “And it’s not about him. This is about saving people who need help.”

It’s a point Dean can’t readily refute. So you give him a sly smile. 

“Besides,” you say. “Are you really going to let me go alone?”

That’s how Dean ends up driving you and Sam to Nebraska on a Tuesday morning, after calling another hunter to take on that case Sam had found.

Dean is taciturn and downright grumpy all the way there. Even though you know why, it still irks you. Despite your argument last night, he’s become an amazingly supportive boyfriend in so many ways. So why is he being such a man child about this?

When you all get to the motel, you and Dean book a room while Sam grabs his own. You don’t blame him for wanting some distance from the tension the elder Winchester is exuding. You only wish you could get a room by yourself.

You text Carter to let him know that you’ve arrived at the same motel he’s staying at: 

Where do you want to meet up?

Dean notices you texting. 

“Right, let’s get this over with. Where’re we meeting your boyfriend,” he snarks.

But you’re not laughing. You let out an angry huff, your hands moving to your hips. 

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stopped being such an ass about this. I have enough on my mind without dealing with your pouting,” you say. 

Dean looks down at you, crossing his arms. “I’m not pouting. I’m here trying to watch your back while you go and let that bastard play you like a damn fiddle.”

You stare at him in disbelief. 

“Do you really, actually think I want to see Carter?” you ask. “Do you think I’m that stupid, that I don’t know what he’s trying to do?”

You already know Carter is using this to try and get back into your life, or at least, under your skin. You don’t intend to let him accomplish either one.

Meanwhile, Dean’s frown deepens.

“Okay. If you’re seeing 20/20, then why’re we here? Why not call another hunter and let them fill in?” he asks.

“Is that what you would do?” you counter, pressing a finger into his chest. “If it was your ex who needed help, you would be doing the same damn thing that I’m doing, and don’t pretend it’d be any different. So stop trying to make me feel guilty for trying to do this right.”

You grab the empty ice bucket from the counter. Right now, you need any excuse to get some air, and get out of this oppressive room. 

Dean lets you go, even though he’s silently fuming. The door slams shut behind you. 

He sighs. He doesn’t feel like being in this room either, so he steps out and knocks on Sam’s door. 

Sam opens it, and has to move to the side when Dean slips inside without asking. 

“Sure, come right in,” Sam says wryly. He watches Dean sit down on the bed and drop his head into his hands, rubbing his face. 

“Dude, you need to chill out,” Sam says. Dean’s head raises, and he gives his brother a sarcastic look.

“Oh, really? Is that what the fuck I need to do?” he says. He draws a frustrated hand over his mouth. “This guy’s a problem Sam. This whole thing…it doesn’t feel right.”

Sam doesn’t understand just how bad the repercussions were, after what happened at Alicia’s funeral. You having to deal with Carter that night had set you back, mentally, in more ways than one. It had you thinking things about yourself, and your own body, that made Dean want to track that bastard down and bash his skull in.

But instead, Dean had spent that entire night trying to help you feel comfortable in your own skin again, and comfortable with him. He’d continued trying to erase those old insecurities from your mind for the rest of the damn week—mainly by fucking it out of you.

In your bed, in the shower, in the backseat of his Baby, on that comfy couch in the library that's already been christened three times before (luckily, no one caught you guys that time), and even in the dirty bathroom of a roadside bar after a hunt.

...Yeah, you’d taken some convincing on that last one.

Worth it, Dean thinks, smirking internally.

Besides all of that though, there’s something else gnawing at his insides. Something he hasn’t told Sam, or even you for that matter.

Since the world nearly ended with Chuck and his snapping fingers, Dean has lived with…a kind of edge. An edge that makes him wary whenever your safety is concerned, beyond the usual dangers that come with a hunt. Beyond the things Dean feels equipped to handle with certainty. 

“Be that as it may, she can take care of herself, Dean. You know that,” Sam says, breaking Dean from his thoughts. “All we can do is watch her back on this. And we will.”

After a beat to consider that, Dean nods, however reluctantly. Despite your recent struggles, he also knows how strong you are, and not just in your stubbornness that’s more than a match for his own.

Even though he’d rather you not have to go through this bullshit at all with Carter, Dean knows you. He knows you’ll do what you think is right, with or without his say so.

His shoulders deflate with his breath of exasperation. He gets up, claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Dean leaves his brother’s room to return to his own.

He frowns when he finds it empty. 

He backs out of the room and looks down the sidewalk. There’s no one in sight. 

He follows down the path you must’ve gone to find the ice machine. He turns a corner, and he finds a half-full bucket of ice…on the ground, laying on its side. Dean rushes back to the parking lot.

He doesn’t see you anywhere. The Impala is still parked where he left her, so you haven’t taken off by yourself. At least, not of your own volition.

He goes back to Sam’s motel room and pounds a fist three times on his door. Sam opens it with an annoyed frown and a ready protest, until Dean speaks over him. 

“Sam, I can’t find her,” he says. “She’s gone.”

Slowly, you wake in what looks like a dusty old barn.

You’re sitting in a wooden chair that hurts your ass, and your back is aching due to the thick knot of rope holding your wrists behind the chair. There’s a pounding in the back of your skull that makes you wince.

You have a dull memory of feeling a presence behind you, and then being hit before you could even throw a punch.

Someone calls your name gently. You turn to your left, and there’s Carter, strapped to his own chair. He looks rough. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, and he bears a ragged wound on his neck. It’s weeping with blood that stains his shirt, likely hours old, by the way it’s dried. 

You would know that kind of bite anywhere. You feel the phantom pain where your neck meets your shoulder.

Vampires.

“You okay?” Carter asks. He looks genuinely worried for you.

“What?” you utter. You’re still a bit dazed, until a woman steps into the room. Her long brown hair is tied up in a ponytail, and her leather jacket matches her dark wash jeans and black boots. She gathers her hands behind her back and gives you a smile. 

“Morning, sweetheart. Have a good little nap?” she asks. 

“You know...I’ve had better,” you reply, rolling the crick out of your neck. Again, you glance at Carter. He looks like he’s been here for days. And, he looks guilty as hell.

A terrible feeling grows in the pit of your stomach, but you take in a breath and return your attention to the woman in front of you.

“It’s a cocky game, hunting for hunters,” you say. “What, got tired of sucking on cows and hookers?”

What can you say? After four years, Dean has rubbed off on you.

The woman cocks her head, and her smile deepens. She steps closer. Close enough to smell you as she leans in close to your cheek. She inhales your scent, her lips brushing your neck and earlobe. You grimace and try to pull away, but she grabs your head, her nails tangling sharply in your hair. 

You fucking hate vampires.

Especially after a nest of vampires turned a child, who then tried to take a chunk out of your neck. It’s been a few years since then, but you’ve always been uneasy on vamp hunts ever since. 

“I’ll make it easy for you,” the woman whispers in your ear. “You’re here because I want one thing. Just one thing… Sam and Dean Winchester.”

That shocks you, but you manage to recover enough to reply.

“Who are you?” you ask. “Why are you after them?”

“Jenny. At least, that's the name they'll remember,” she replies, toying with a strand of your hair. “And let’s just say, we have history. They killed my family. And that crime has no statute of limitations.”  

“You really think you’re going to get the drop on them?” you say, even though you’re trying to calm your breathing, and your racing heart. “Good luck, bitch.”

She grabs you by the hair, making you wince. 

“Leave her alone!” Carter says. He’s exhausted, but his anger and frustration fuel him.

The vampire suddenly releases you. But she walks behind you and moves over to him. She grabs him by his short blonde hair and forcefully cranes his head back. He makes a sound of pain, and her lips draw near to the open bite wound on his neck.  

“You shouldn’t be talking,” Jenny threatens. She abruptly lets him go and comes around to stand in front of both of you with her arms cross. She glances over at you, and gestures at your companion. 

“If you want to find the world’s most infamous killers, ask a killer,” she remarks.

You slowly turn your head toward Carter. Your expression tightens with anger—such anger that even brings furious tears to your eyes. 

“You…you lured me here,” you realize.

Carter confirms it when he can’t meet your eyes. His face tells a story of immense guilt. 

“I just thought they’d try to get the jump on Sam and Dean,” he says.

“Cooooño,” you mutter a drawn out curse through clenched teeth. Briefly you close your eyes. 

“I figured the three of you could take ‘em. I didn’t think they’d take you!” Carter exclaims.

It doesn’t change the fact that he’d lied to you, betrayed you. He tried to trade his own life for theirs, and yours as well.

“I knew you were a fucking asshole, but I never thought you were this big a coward!” you hiss.

“I’m sorry,” he tries.

“I don’t want to hear it!” you snap back. You look up at Jenny, who looks bemused watching the scene.

“And you better come packing, Twilight, because Sam and Dean are gonna gut you like a fish,” you say snidely.

Jenny smiles as one, two, three and more men step into the barn and join her. She greets them all with a nod of her head, before she turns back to you with a sharp grin.

“Oh, I’m certainly not alone.”

“Son of a bitch. I fucking told you," Dean grouses. "I knew there was something off about this whole deal.”

“I hear you,” Sam says. His tone is steady to try and anchor his brother. “We’re almost there.”

Dean is pushing Baby to her limits on a dusty road out to Bumfuck Nowhere, Nebraska. Sam has been able to track your cell phone, and even break into your text messages from his laptop. Carter’s last text to you held the location of where to meet in exact coordinates. Even Sam agreed that was strange, as if your kidnapping wasn’t bad enough. 

It has Dean white-knuckling his grip on the steering wheel. Sam’s route is leading him further away from civilization, and deeper into the woods on either side of the road. 

“How much longer, man?” Dean asks. 

Sam gives his brother a reassuring look. He’s worried for you too, but he knows he has to lock it up for Dean’s sake. 

“Couple more miles," Sam replies. "Then it looks like we’re going off-road.”

“Into the woods?” Dean asks. 

“Most likely,” Sam says. 

Fuck, Dean thinks. His gut churns with apprehension. He doesn’t even know what you’re going through right now, let alone who (or what) has you. All he knows is, he’s not losing you.

Not like this.

Not again.

Spanish Translation: “Coño.” -> "Fuck."

AN: 😮‍💨 Diving into the thick of it on this one! Lots of conflict and tension, but what did you think of her argument with Dean about her "dream?" And how do you think it's going to play out with Carter? 😬

Here's a sneak peek at where we're going:

Next Time:

Your lips thin into a line. “Or you’re just stupid enough to leave a couple of hunters alone. You better damn hope he doesn’t find Sam and Dean. Even when they don’t know what’s coming, they should be the stuff of your nightmares. But when they’re prepared?”

You lick your dry lips and give Jenny a grim smile, with more confidence than you actually feel.

“Say goodbye to your family,” you say.

After a beat, Jenny smiles tightly and grabs your face. Her nails bite into your cheeks.  

“All right, Nate. You can have a taste,” she says.

She steps to the side as one of the larger backup dancers in her little entourage draws near. Jenny wrenches your head back by your hair so he can lean in and bite into your neck. Your scream reverberates on the barn walls.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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Folsom Prison Blues | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, sexual harassment, crude sexual comments directed at reader, mentions of rape, panic attacks, sexual coercion, blackmail, recovery from an assault (PLEASE PLEASE EXERCISE CAUTION WHEN READING THIS CHAPTER IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANYTHING PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED! Please take care of yourselves, lovebugs.)

Word Count: 5303

A/N: This is definitely one of the darker chapters I’ve written. I just wanna reiterate that if you are at all triggered by mentions of rape or sexual harrassment happening toward the reader, please skip this chapter. However, there are no explicit scenes of assault. I always feel like that crosses a line when writers add those really descriptive scenes.

Remember, if you are a victim of anything like this, you are loved and you are not defined by what happens to you. As a victim myself, I completely understand if you make the decision to skip this week's chapter.

Again, please, please, please take care of yourself while you read this chapter. I love you all! And minors, definitely do not read. doooo notttt readddd.

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“Have I mentioned that I hate this idea?” you said to Dean harshly, standing outside of the Impala.

Dean chuckled. “I think a few times.” He kissed your forehead. “Look, Deacon’s a friend of ours. He’s got you covered. See you in a few days, okay?”

“I fucking hate this idea,” you groaned.

Dean leaned down to kiss you, effectively cutting off your sentence. “Just trust me, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. See you, Dee.”

And with that, you set off to meet a friend of John Winchester’s, Deacon, at Green River County Detention Center. Several men had been brutally murdered in the B-block of their men’s prison, and Deacon, the warden at the prison, had come to the Winchester brothers for help. Reluctantly, you agreed to pose as a guard in-training to be right there with the boys the whole time and to assist with their escape. 

Your plan was only able to be accomplished due to the fact that the FBI hadn’t gotten a clear photo of you; not from the bank and not from your previous arrest. Your mugshot from Baltimore had “mysteriously disappeared.” However, Sam’s and Dean’s photos were all over the place; Dean’s from St. Louis and a sketch of Sam from a witness in Milwaukee. The two boys were going to purposefully get arrested to be able to get into the B-block of the prison. That was why you hated the idea so much. 

Deacon was tough, you wouldn’t lie, but no tougher than your father. His whole “ex-military” thing didn’t intimidate you at all, and perhaps that was what kept the other officers from messing with you. You’d proved in your “training” how capable you were, and Deacon claimed that was part of the reason they accelerated the hiring process for you. 

However, your tough, impenetrable attitude didn’t deter the inmates from making jabs at you. Your first day on the job, a scrawny inmate with rotting teeth smacked your ass harshly in the cafeteria. You promptly had him on his stomach with his arm twisted behind his back. Deacon called you into his office afterward to fill out an incident report.

“Guessing you guys don’t have that many female hires, huh?” you asked Deacon upon entering his office.

He chuckled. “That’s a nice way of saying it. Most girls wouldn’t be caught dead in here, and we pretty much don’t hire ‘em. Just for their own safety.”

“Don’t you think that’ll raise some red flags, then? Especially given the fact that I appeared out of nowhere and ‘accelerated through training’?” you questioned.

“(Y/N), we don’t exactly hire the best and the brightest. Besides, that sort of thing happens with the guys all the time. Some get transferred from other prison, for others, this is their jumping-off point before they start workin’ for the police force. Actually, I think a lot of ‘em are too excited to see a girl to even think about where you came from. Trust me, nobody’s paying enough mind to your circumstance to notice any of the cracks,” he assured you. 

You let out a breath. “Okay. The boys get arrested yet?”

He nodded. “Should be on their way over now. Just finished questioning them a few counties over.”

“Wait, questioning them? How serious of a questioning are we talkin’ here?” you asked.

“Uh, I don’t know. That’s above my paygrade, kid,” he replied. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you. This isn’t gonna be a cakewalk for you. I run a tight ship, but you’re fresh meat. Some of these guys haven’t seen a girl in fifteen, twenty, thirty years. When they see you, be prepared for some wild animals. What happened earlier isn’t gonna be an isolated incident. 

“But one of ‘em even looks at you funny, you tell me. Don’t go lookin’ for trouble, though. Keep your head down and only jump in when you absolutely have to. I have you on patrol of the cell blocks so there’ll at least be a barrier between you and them. At meal and rec time, though, I can’t protect you from what’ll happen.”

You nodded, bile rising in your throat. 

“Why don’t you get outta here? I’ll see you around, okay?”

You nodded again and smiled a little before turning around and heading out of the door. Some of the male guards snickered as you walked past them through the hallways of the prison, but you paid no mind to them. You were focused on seeing your boys again. 

“You don’t belong here,” one of the guards called after you.

You turned on your heel sharply. “What’d you say to me?” 

“You heard me, toots. Go back where you came from,” the guard replied, a foul smile across his face as his buddies snickered.

You gave him a challenging glare. “I’m gonna say this as politely as I can: get fucked.” 

You turned back around and walked away, only to feel a harsh yank on your arm to turn you to face the man. “What’d you say?”

“You heard me, toots,” you said, mocking him. “How small is your dick that a third-grade insult from me got you all fired up? And holy shit, do you need some listerine. You got halitosis? What’s going on there?”

The guard’s friends began to laugh, too, much to the chagrin of the man still holding your arm. He released you roughly, and you knew it’d bruise tomorrow. “I oughta teach you some respect,” he said.

“Oh yeah? And risk losing your job?” you questioned. “You make one wrong move, and I start screaming.”

He scoffed. “Whatever. Just fuck off.”

“That’s what I was doin’,” you replied, turning away again. This time, he let you leave, and you were grateful. You were trying to remain as unnoticed as possible during your time here; despite the fact that being the only female guard put an immediate spotlight on you. 

You continued down the corridor to your assigned patrol; right outside the doors of one of the cell blocks. You tried to seem as unfazed as possible in your nerve-wracking situation and walked with authority; as much as you could muster given most of these men towered over you. You mentally cursed your father for stunting your growth by starving you to make sure you stayed small for hunting purposes. Your baton in hand, you walked up and down the cells. 

“Hey, they got us a hooker,” one of the men from the cell laughed. “How much for the hour, sweetness?”

As that man’s cell erupted into laughter, you walked past another where a man was pleasuring himself in plain view of the hallway. You knew he was doing so to get a rise out of you, and you swallowed your nausea and continued walking. 

“I’m gonna fuck you real good, sweetheart,” a man growled from behind his bars. “At rec time, your ass is mine.”

Again, you just kept walking, ignoring their lewd and offensive comments. You prayed to see Sam, Dean, or Deacon sooner rather than later to continue going through with this. And for a moment, you wondered if this case was even worth it. ‘If these fucking scumbags are the ones dyin’, I’d be okay with that,’ you considered. 

***

At the prisoner’s scheduled lunch time, you held up the end of the line of prisoners heading to the cafeteria. Every time the men at the back of the line tried to turn their heads to sneak a glimpse at you, you used the butt of your baton to hit them on the back of the head and turn their gazes forward. You weren’t completely comfortable doing that, but you were doing your best to prove that you weren’t someone to be messed with.

When you arrived with your group of inmates in the cafeteria, you saw Sam and Dean sitting alone at a small table and talking in hushed voices. You hoped your face didn’t convey your relief to see them. Even though they were in orange jumpsuits, just the sight of the Winchesters made you feel safer. Dean caught you staring at him and smirked a little before turning back to his plate. You forced yourself to remain stoic and keep your hardened expression on your face. Dean got up from the table with his tray to go throw his food away, and Sam followed. Sam somehow didn’t notice a heavily tattooed prisoner with a thick goatee heading straight for him, and he crashed right into him.

“Sorry. I—” Sam tried.

“Watch where you're going,” the man said.

The brunet stumbled over his words. “Yeah. Sure. I just—”

Dean walked up in front of Sam, voice darkening. “He said he was sorry.”

“You talking to me?” the man scoffed. “Are you talking to me?” 

“Great, another guy who's seen Taxi Driver too many times,” Dean quipped. “Yeah, I'm talking to you. Trust me. Let it go.”

The tattooed man walked away, and Dean turned around to Sam. He said something quietly and winked at his brother, making Sam roll his eyes before catching sight of the much larger man the tattooed prisoner was walking back over to them with.

You tried to keep your composure when the man swung a punch at Dean. Dean, however, caught him and held him in place from behind. “We can end this right now. No harm, no foul,” the Older Winchester asserted.

The prisoner soon broke from Dean’s hold. He grabbed him again and slammed him against a wall. The man stepped back on Dean’s foot, and Deacon subtly jerked his head at you for you to step forward to help break up the situation.

“That’s enough!” Deacon commanded, walking over to the man Dean had brought to the floor. “On your feet, Lucas.”

The tattooed man, whose name you just found out, stood. “Yes, sir, boss.”

Deacon held out his baton and pushed Dean’s chin up with it. “What's your name?” he asked him.

“Winchester.”

“Well, Winchester, not a good start.” Deacon stared him down angrily. “Solitary. You too, Lucas.”

You immediately grabbed Dean’s wrists and began pushing him in the direction of solitary confinement while another guard grabbed Lucas. 

“Are we having fun yet, huh?” Dean called over your shoulder to Sam.

You roughly shoved him forward, making him face ahead again. 

“Y’know, I usually don’t let girls tie me up without a first date,” Dean quipped. You knew he was trying to rile you up and get you to break character for his own fun.

“If you wanna keep your tongue, I suggest you keep your mouth shut,” you replied forcefully.

For some reason, that comment seemed to excite Dean. You fought back an eye roll at his amused expression. You roughly shoved him— not too hard, just hard enough to sell it— into the solitary confinement cell and slammed the door shut. 

Dean smirked at you. “See you around, sweetheart.”

You tried to fight the heat rising to your cheeks, upset by how easily he could get a rise out of you. You left him in solitary confinement and followed the guard who’d brought Lucas to solitary back to the cafeteria. 

“The boys seem to like you a lot,” he sneered. “Havin’ fun yet?”

You recognized him as one of the men who’d taunted you after you left Deacon’s office earlier that morning.

“Buckets,” you responded dryly. 

“I can think of a few ways we could have some more fun,” he said to you, backing you into a wall. 

“Get off me!” Your breath quickened, and without even thinking about it, you used the flat part of your forearm to push his chest away and kneed him in the groin.  

“You bitch!” he yelped. You took off running back to the direction you thought the cafeteria was in, taking a moment to steady yourself against a wall. You couldn’t seem to catch your breath, and you slumped down against the wall, clutching at your chest. You closed your eyes and did your best to steady your breathing and thankfully succeeded. You wiped the few tears that had fallen from your eyes, and steeled yourself to go back out there. 

You rejoined your group of guards, including Deacon, and the other prisoners. Deacon seemed to notice you were upset but said nothing about it. All he said was, “You’re watching the bathrooms with Jones,” referring to your next assignment during the prisoners’ working hours and your partner for the time being. 

You were relieved to see Sam when you made it to your destination. He was having to scrub the floors with a mop that seemed to be more like ragged threads now than a cleaning tool. 

“How you doing?” Sam asked the older prisoner he was with.

“I’m fifty-four years old, mopping the floor of a crapper with bars on the windows. How you think I'm doing?” the man’s scratchy voice replied.

“Alright. Bad icebreaker. I'm Sam.”

“Randall.”

“Nice to meet y—” Sam cut himself off, seeming to have realized something. “Randall. Hey, weren't you there the night that guard died?” 

That caught your attention. You threw a look to the guard in the other part of the bathroom ensuring he was focused on other prisoners and not Sam and Randall’s conversation.

“Yeah,” the man replied.

“Well, what happened?” Sam pressed.

“They say the stress of the job got him.”

Sam stopped mopping. “Yeah? What do you say?”

Randall didn’t answer. “Why are you inside, kid?”

“ 'Cause I got an idiot for a brother.”

“That'll do it,” Randall replied. “Well, this place ain't so bad. Compared to the old cellblock, this is the damn Hilton.”

“You spent time in the old block?” Sam questioned.

“Oh, yeah, I was a regular customer.”

“Didn't they have Mark Moody over there for a while?” Mark Moody was the man who Sam and Dean suspected of being your ghost killer.

“He was there. Yeah I was there, too, the night that lunatic bought it,” Randall explained.

“Yeah? It was a heart attack, right?”

The older man chuckled. “Sure, his heart stopped right after the guard stopped using his head for batting practice. The next morning, I was in his cell, mopping up the blood. What a mess.” He shook his head.

“Wait. So he– he was beaten and– and nobody reported it?” Sam asked in confusion.

“You kept your mouth shut, unless you wanted to die from the same heart attack, y’know?” Randall chuckled; the gravelly sound almost sending a chill down your spine. 

‘This guy could easily play Hannibal Lector,’ you thought.

“Randall, exactly how much blood was there?”

*** When working time was over, the prisoners had an hour in the yard before dinner and returning to their cells. You watched from the far corner of the fence while he played poker with every man who was dumb enough to try him for cigarettes. You folded your arms across your chest and watched with amusement when Sam came up to him and began bickering with him about something.

Dean then stood and yelled, “Hey, fellas! Who's ready to deal?”

He played several more rounds of poker, and you did your best to pry your eyes away from him so as to not arouse suspicions of any kind. However, that proved to be the least of your worries.

The guard from earlier whose balls you’d kicked in came up beside you and nonchalantly leaned against the gate. “You’re playing hard to get. It’s cute. I like it,” he said.

“Leave me alone, please,” you replied coolly. You were ready to bash his head in.

“Or what?” he challenged, still facing forward. “I think you owe me an apology for earlier. I’ll have a real treat for you tonight when we get off work.”

You jerked your head toward him. “You try anything, and I swear to god I will gut you.”

“Easy there, princess. It’d do you well to get in good with me. I’ll be able to protect you from them.” The guard nodded out to the inmates who would turn their heads every once in a while in your direction.

“Not interested,” you said simply. “Besides, I think I need more protection from you than from them.”

You could feel his gaze burning into the side of your head. “Maybe so. Maybe if you don’t give me what I want, I’ll take it out on your little inmate friend over there.” He nodded toward Dean who was triumphantly fistpumping after winning another hand of poker. 

You looked back at him, worry swimming in your eyes.

“That’s right, I noticed how you keep looking at him. You’re not very subtle, I hope you know. And he’s definitely not,” the guard said. “So, if you wanna keep him alive, you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. I’ll see you tonight.”

You stared at the ground ahead of you in fear and tried to think your way out of your situation. All that played over in your mind was the sickening feeling of his body against yours in that cinderblock corridor outside of solitary confinement. Bile rose in your throat, and the only thing snapping you out of your trance was the whistle indicating the end of rec time.

You went through the motions of your “job” by escorting the prisoners from the yard into the cafeteria for dinner. Your head was not at all in the moment or in the case, and fear kept your adrenaline moving for the next several minutes. It wasn’t until Dean got in another fight and nearly got himself killed that your adrenaline surged for a different reason.

“If we'd waited any longer, you'd be dead,” Deacon told Dean.

“You waited long enough,” Dean huffed, trying to catch his breath.

Deacon shoved his baton into Dean’s stomach, and you nearly lunged at him for doing so. He grabbed the back of Dean’s head and told him, “Do yourself a favor. Don't. Talk.” The warden looked up at you. “Take them both up to the infirmary.”

You and the guard who’d been harassing you did so. Dean noticed how off you were, but did his best not to convey what he knew. When you got both Tiny and Dean into cells, you had no desire to leave with the guard; afraid of what would happen to you.

You were almost angry at yourself. You were (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’d fought monsters, ghosts, and demons, and you were losing your mind over a guy that would shit his pants if he knew what you’d seen. However, the fact that he was still a very real threat drowned out those thoughts.

***

The man Dean had fought had apparently died in the infirmary; no doubt by the hands of the thing you were hunting. While Dean was fighting said man, Sam snuck to the room Moody had been murdered in and burnt the rest of the blood away, so you knew it couldn’t be him. All you could do was wait for the boys to talk to the other prisoners to get the name of your true target.

Later that night, you just wanted to make it back to the Impala when you got off your shift. You even waited a while after everyone else on your shift had left to make your way out of the prison. You hoped the guard whose name you didn’t even know wouldn’t make good on his threats. However, your stomach dropped when you saw him leaning against Dean’s car.

You stopped several feet from him.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he told you.

“How the fuck do you know what car I drive?” you questioned.

“It’s not hard. I mean, you’re the only ‘67 Chevy in the parking lot. Nice ride, by the way,” he said.

“Fuck you.”

In an instant, he was running toward you. You turned and sprinted away, only to be knocked to the ground by the man. He roughly pulled your hair back, yanking your head back against him. “Remember what I fucking told you,” he growled against your ear. “Are you gonna start playing nice?”

***

Everything felt wrong. No matter how many showers you took, you couldn’t scrub the feeling off your skin. Back in your motel room, you laid on your side wrapped in an oversized shirt. You stared at the wall in the dark, completely numb. You hadn’t even been able to cry since it happened.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t move. For hours, you laid there. You wouldn’t allow sleep to hold you close enough to darken the world around you. 

One thing you kept thinking was ‘I’ll never be the same again.’ The words played on a loop over and over in your mind. They danced around in your head for hours, taunting you. 

You wanted to climb out of your skin. Start the day over. You wished you’d fought back. Wished someone had been sound to stop him. The scrapes on your left wrist and arm were undoubtedly going to bruise in the morning, and your uniform wouldn’t exactly hide them. You knew Dean and Sam would ask questions, and the former would rip the guy’s head off. You didn’t even know that guard’s name. Everything just felt so wrong. 

But you wouldn’t let this stop you from doing your job. You wouldn’t let those boys brave that place alone with no word from you. And so, despite everything in your body telling you not to, you went back to the prison the next day.

***

You could tell Deacon knew something was wrong, but he didn’t press you further. The other prison guards didn’t seem to notice a difference in you; except, of course, the guard’s posse. They would snicker at you every time you walked past, and you could only imagine what your abuser had said about you. 

Thankfully, you only had to endure this last day of awfulness. Deacon was going to “fire” you right after rec time was over to give you enough time to get the Impala pulled around the back of the jail for the brothers to escape through. Your job was to wait for Sam to come over to you and give you the name of the person you were after and find what cemetery they were at. Then, you were going to get the boys the hell out of dodge. 

You watched the boys in the rec yard talking to Randall, the man Sam had gotten information from while they were cleaning the bathrooms. Then, the younger brother came over to you. 

“Hey,” he said, looking around to see if anyone was paying much attention to him.

“Hi,” you replied.

“Whoa, what happened to your arm?” Sam asked in concern, noticing your very obvious scrapes. 

“Oh, it’s nothing, I—”

“This guy bothering you?” That awful, familiar voice said from behind you. 

Without turning around to face your abuser, you replied, “No. Please, go away.”

Sam glared at the man behind you when he noticed how upset the guard’s mere presence made you. You could tell he knew the guard had done something to you; he was a smart boy. 

“Glockner,” was all Sam said to you before turning away. 

“Surprised you’re able to still walk—”

You immediately turned around to him and punched him square across his jaw. 

“Bitch!” he yelled.

“Fuck you!” you yelled. 

‘Deacon’s firing me anyway,’ you thought. ‘Might as well give him a legitimate reason to.’

You got down on top of the guard and started punching hard. His face was bloodied and bruised, the man barely hanging on to consciousness before you were pulled away, kicking and screaming by two other guards. They dragged you over to Deacon, who promptly made a scene of firing you. He escorted you out to the parking lot where he said the cops would be waiting for you to bring you in for questioning. 

Once the two of you were far enough away, he roughly spun you around to face him. “What the hell was that?!” he questioned. “You know they’re gonna be out for blood now!”

“I know that, Deacon! Maybe if your guards weren’t fucking scumbags, though, I wouldn’t have had to do that!” you yelled back.

“What?” his voice quieted considerably. 

“Nothing,” you said. “Just tell my boys I’ll be back for ‘em tonight.” You turned on your heel and walked away. 

“Hey, kid,” Deacon called after you.

You turned around. 

“Thank you. And… I’m sorry. For whatever happened.”

You nodded and turned back around again.

*** You discovered that “Glockner” was the name of a nurse in the seventies who’d been caught in the crossfire of the inmate uprising that occurred following Moody’s death. She’d been buried at Green Valley Cemetery following the severe cerebral edema the inmates gave her. 

You returned to the detention center under the cover of night and pulled the car around the back of the prison away from the parking lot where the guards were beginning to change shifts. You waited anxiously dressed in civilian clothes again for the boys to come out of the HVAC unit Deacon told you would be attached to the room he would be bringing the boys into following their staged fight. 

“Oh, man, are you a sight for sore eyes,” a familiar voice rumbled. 

Dean and Sam leapt over the fence separating you from them, and you couldn’t help but collapse into Dean’s arms. “Whoa, sweetheart, what’s—”

“No time, guys,” Sam reminded you. “You can reunite later. We gotta go.”

As if on cue, an alarm began to sound through the prison. Immediately, you nodded and broke away from Dean. You headed to the driver’s seat so Sam and Dean could change while you drove. Quickly, you headed to the cemetery Nurse Glockner was buried in. 

***

The brothers caught you up on everything that had been happening to them since you hadn’t been able to talk much over the last week.

“What?!” you exclaimed, following them through the cemetery. “Henriksen’s here?!”

“Yeah, which is exactly why I wanted to get the hell out,” Sam told you. “They were gonna extradite us back to St. Louis or Baltimore or something. Whatever was gonna happen to us, it wasn’t gonna be pretty.

“Jesus,” you responded. “And no doubt, they’re gonna be looking for me soon, too. I beat the fuck out of a guy who knows I drive a ‘67 Impala.”

“What?!” both boys questioned upon reaching the grave of Nurse Glockner.

You nodded solemnly. “Yeah,” you said. 

“I’m gonna need a bit more of a response than ‘yeah,’ sweetheart,” Dean grunted as he began digging.

“Later. Let’s just get this over with, okay?” you said, helping the boys dig faster. 

You could feel both brothers staring at you in concern, but you couldn’t look up at them. 

***

When Glockner had finally been salted and burned, you and the Winchesters returned to the Impala and quickly drove away. 

“You know, I almost wish I could see Henriksen's face,” Dean joked as the Impala’s engine purred.

“Really? 'Cause I'd be happy if I never saw him again,” Sam replied tightly. “I mean, we're not really out of the woods yet, Dean, you know? You thought we were screwed before?”

“Yeah, I know. We got to go deep this time,” Dean responded.

“ ‘Deep,’ Dean? We should go to Yemen,” Sam quipped.

“Ooh, I'm— I'm not sure I'm ready to go that deep.”

You were silent the entirety of the drive over state lines and to a motel in the middle of wooded nowhere. You were silent through the check-in process, and silent when Dean crawled into your bed behind you later that night. He began to kiss down your neck, and you wanted to enjoy the feeling so badly.

“Dean.” Your voice broke as you whispered his name.

Immediately, Dean took his face away from your neck. “What?” he asked, hearing how upset you were. “What is it?” 

“I, um—” you started, unable to turn to face him. “I can’t.”

“Why?” he asked softly.

“The guard—” you said. “—from the rec yard. He, um.”

Dean lightly turned you to face him. “(Y/N), what’d he do?” His voice had darkened considerably at the thought of someone hurting you. 

“He, uh—” your breath shuddered, and you were unable to meet his gaze. “He raped me.”

You swear all of the oxygen looked like it’d been punched out of Dean, his face hardening in the darkness. “Oh, I’ll kill him—”

“Dean, don’t, okay? It’s not gonna—” you protested, reaching up to grab his face to make him look at you. “It’s not gonna change anything.”

“I know, but—”

“Dean, I thought beating him to a bloody pulp was gonna make me feel better. It didn’t. I just feel more disgusting. Like, why didn’t I do that when it was all happening?” You began to cry. “I just— I’m trying to forget it ever happened. And I know I won’t. And it’s awful. And I just— I need time,” you explained.

Silence settled over the two of you for a moment.

“Do you want me to leave?” Dean asked softly.

“I— I don’t know. I just—” You took a deep breath. “I don’t really know how I feel about touching right now. Can you just lay with me?”

He nodded and climbed into bed beside you, the two of you staring up at the ceiling. Wordlessly, you slipped your hand under the covers and reached for his hand, lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing tightly. 

Your world was turning completely upside down. Your mind wouldn’t slow down, and you didn’t sleep much at all that night. However, you knew that whatever happened to you, Dean was there to keep you grounded. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[winchester-24]

I am SO gonna need a part two to Sam choosing between reader and ruby. I loved it and I’m CRAVING angst. I can only imagine how you’d continue the story I KNOW it would be good

I'm so glad you loved it! The response to this specific fic has been mind-blowing to me as someone who just started posting, and I am super humbled by it! Thank you for your support <3

Imagine Sam having to choose between you and Ruby (Part 2)

Cold. If any hunter was asked about you, that is how they would describe you. When Bobby came and picked you up that day, he let you sit the entire ride home in silence. When you two reached his house, he popped a beer for you. When you went to take it, he held it back and demanded,

“Sit.” You sighed and sat at his kitchen table, drank the beer he offered, and told him everything. He comforted you Bobby-style, meaning he told you it would be alright and the two of you would figure it out. You finished your beer, thanked him, and asked if there was any car he didn’t care to part with. While he had none running, he permitted you to fix any of them.

It took you a month to fix up a car. Everything you knew about cars you learned between Dean and Bobby. It was nothing fancy, but it would get the job done. Every morning, Bobby would make you eat breakfast, and every night, when you came in, Bobby would make you eat dinner. You would then shower, sleep, and repeat. It was like you were a zombie. When the car was completely ready, you packed your things, left Bobby a note thanking him and saying that you would call, and left.

During your month there, your phone would begin to ring non-stop. Calling, text message, voicemail. Sam was using any way you could communicate on the phone. In the beginning, you would listen to the voicemails.

“Hey, baby, it's me—again. Please pick it up and at least let me know you are safe. We can talk about this. I love you.”

“I know you’re mad- you have every right to be. I was selfish and stupid, thinking about what was best for us without consulting you. It was dumb, and I took full responsibility. Please call me. I miss you so much; I love you.”

Every voicemail sounded like that, but the contact became less frequent. Instead of all day, it was in the morning and at night. Then it turned into just at night. Then it turned into every other day until it became once or twice a week until the last week you were at Bobby’s, Sam didn’t try to contact you once. Good.

You went from town to town, trying every crossroads demon. Trying to get information, make a deal. Anything. Every demon denied you a deal, and no one would tell you anything. You were getting frustrated. In between finding demons, you would pick up solo jobs. The roadhouse became your home away from home, wherever your home was supposed to be. Some nights, you would end up like Ash, asleep on top of a pool table or bar; other nights, Ellen would give you the spare back bedroom.

Hunters would come in and try to flirt with you. You would be cordial and say no; however, every hunter was the same- stubborn, and thinking no would eventually turn yes. After the fifth hunter came through and tried to put hands on you, you grabbed his hand, twisting it like Sam taught you, and caused the wrist to snap.

That was the last time a hunter hit on you at the roadhouse.

Every so often, Sam Winchester’s name was brought up around you. Hunters loved to talk, and now you know how every hunter seemed to know you three when traveling, but you never knew them. Each time you heard Sam’s name, your heart became colder, and another shot was poured into your body.

Three more months had passed, and you were no closer to figuring out how to get Dean out of hell. A few times, you thought about calling Sam to see if he was close to saving Dean but decided against it. When your phone rang, you were in a hotel room, just finished clearing out a vamp’s nest. Bobby.

“Bobby.” You say that was your greeting now to anyone; you have no spark of joy left in you.

“I need you to come home.” That was all Bobby said. You sighed and flung your boot off, working on the other one.

“I mean, I can; it will be tomorrow, though; I just finished a hunt; is it that important?”

“It needs to be now,” Bobby said. I stood up.

“Bobby, what’s going on?”

“You’re going to want to see for yourself, get your ass over here and stop arguing with me.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. I’ll be there in a few hours.” You say before you hang up. You look down at all the blood on you and then make eye contact with yourself in the mirror.

“But first, I’m going to shower.” You mutter to yourself.

Freshly showered, you were at Bobby’s five hours later. You turn the ignition off and step out of the car. The afternoon light was setting in, and you started to get nervous. Nothing seemed out of place, so what was the big deal? You opened the door and called for Bobby.

“Bobby, it’s me; what’s so important,”  You stopped as you looked in the living room. Bobby stood there, along with- Dean. You gasped. Dean smiled.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He spoke. He went to walk towards you.

“Don’t move a muscle.” You say, grabbing your silver knife and keeping it under your shirt and pants.

“Y/N, I already did the checks, it’s him.” Your eyes looked over at Bobby and narrowed again.

“How do I know you’re Bobby?” Dean smiled.

“You’re good here; test me.” Dean held out his arm, and you did all the testing. When he didn’t react, you looked into his eyes, and tears started to form.

“You’re back.” You whispered.

“I’m back,” he said. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. After a few minutes, he broke the hug and rubbed your arms.

“Bobby told me about Sam.” Hearing his name iced your heart over once more. You looked away from Dean.

“He made his choice; I made mine. I haven’t talked to him since I left.” Dean nodded his head.

“I was going to try to find him if you wanted to come.”

“Thanks, Dean, but I’ll pass.”  Dean sighed and nodded while Bobby said he was going and was going to finish getting packed. You hugged Dean again before ensuring he still had your number and left.

A few weeks after that, you saw Sam Winchester for the first time in months. You heard rumors from the roadhouse about everything going on with Demons and hunting in packs and were looking for a girl, but you never went and checked for yourself. You knew the brothers would be there. Instead, you took up your usual gigs, hoping to stay away from the war.

It was a little salt and burn hunt. You were dressed in your FBI outfit, questioning the latest victim’s wife when you heard it. That low rumble you used to ride in. You quickly finished up your goodbyes, gave her your card, and started to walk back to your car when they stepped out. Sam’s eyes were wide, and he stood frozen at the vehicle. Dean was walking around the car. Surprise flashed in his eyes, but he kept advancing towards you. Dean wrapped you in a hug, and you returned.

Sam walked up to you and Dean. His eyes stared into yours; his mouth kept opening like he was going to stay something but then would shut it again.

“Are you still seeing her?” It is all that came out of your mouth. The distaste was evident in your voice. Sam looked taken back for a second but then regained his composure.

“No.” That was all he was able to muster up and speak. You looked at Dean for confirmation.

“I haven’t seen her.” That is all he said. That raised suspicion in you. You decided to let it go.

“If you want to help on this case, I can tell you what I have gathered so far; I was about to go get lunch- you guys are buying.” You walk past them and get in your car, not waiting for them to reply. You drove to the diner you saw on the way to the victim's house and noticed the Impala was not too far behind you. You grabbed a booth at the restaurant, and the boys slid to the other side of you. After you three ordered it, you started discussing the case and everything you learned.

“So, what’s your theory?” Sam asked after you gave them everything you learned.

“These men are not correlated to anything except they all went to the same bar. They were all at the bar the night they died. I’m not sure I would have to go back and ask all the victim’s wives, but I think these men were all unfaithful in their marriages. See, Kathleen Voss’ husband was unfaithful and wanted to be with his mistress, who, get this, was a bartender at that bar, so he killed Kathleen and tried to cover it up. Of course, he was caught but died in jail the same way as all the other victims.”

“So, you think these men are sleeping with a bartender?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know if they are unfaithful with a bartender or just in general, but I’m assuming that’s where Kathleen sticks around since that’s where her husband started cheating on her.” The boys nodded their heads in agreement as our food came. You ate, they paid, and then you told them where you were staying. Before Sam could even have a chance to talk to you, you turned around and walked to your car.

Back at the hotel room, you let out tears that had been hiding behind your eyes the entire time you were around Sam. Old wounds opened, and while you gave a brave face, you were crumpling and fast. You headed for the whiskey in your bag and drank it straight from the bottle. The burn hurt on the way down, but you hoped the effects would start soon. You changed out of your FBI gear into lounge clothes to do more research on these men. When you were about to open your laptop, you heard a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun and made your way to open it. Sam.

“Can I come in?” He asked. You didn’t reply; you just opened the door for him. He walked in and stood in the middle of the room awkwardly. You set your gun down and folded your arms across your chest. Sam let out a breath and started talking.

“I know you are still pissed, hurt, sad, everything. I meant what I said. I don’t see her anymore. I haven’t had contact with her in weeks. There are many things I want to tell you that I’m going to tell you; I want to know if I still have a chance.” You looked at him like he was stupid.

“I left MONTHS ago. You only stopped seeing her WEEKS ago? You know that first month I was at Bobby’s? You know I didn’t tell him not to tell you where I was? You could have shown up any time you wanted to, Sam! You didn’t! Sure, you left messages on my phone, but let's be honest- you were still with HER! You still chose HER! Now you want to walk into my hotel room and ask if you have a chance when I haven’t seen you for months, and it’s only been a few weeks away from that demon? Do I look like a fucking convenience store to you? You want me back; you have to earn me back. That starts with no contact with her. That starts with you showing me you want to be with me.”  One tear left your eye while Sam just looked at you. He nodded his head and started to walk out of the room. Before he crossed over, he looked at you and said softly.

“I still love you.” You didn’t reply, and he walked back to his room. You shut the door and slid down until you were sitting on the floor, letting out all the emotions you had been holding in for months.

A little while later, in your measurement time, about half a bottle later, another knock sounded at your door. You got up and stumbled over to your door, opening and seeing Dean. He looked at your state and softened his eyes but then tensed again.

“We need to talk.” That sobered you. You nodded your head and let him in. Dean walked in and turned to face you.

“Sam lied to you.” That is all he said. Your jaw clenched.

“What do you mean?”

“He is still seeing that demon; I’m pretty sure they are together now.”

Red. That is what you saw. In your lounge clothes and all, you grabbed your gun and knife; Dean already had the demon knife on him that Ruby gave the boys a while ago.

“Where the fuck is he?” You asked. Dean led you to Sam’s room. He stopped in front of it.

“Kick it down, Dean.” You spoke. Dean complied, and both of you rushed into the room—the sight before you ripped your heart out and disgusted you simultaneously. Ruby was on top of Sam, no shirt, just a black lace bra and panties. Sam only had boxers on, and he was drinking her blood. His mouth and cheeks had blood on them, and when you two busted through the door, they broke apart, and it was all over his mouth.

Sam’s eyes were wide that he had just been caught, and Ruby had that stupid ass smug smile on her face that you remember all too well. You felt your face heat us as you locked eyes with the demon bitch.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

[jordanmoreau]

I have you / Dean Winchester

→ dean winchester x reader, 1,4k words / fem reader

; in which certain feelings are made known, tongue tied and flushed cheeks♡

You watch absentmindedly from across the diner as Dean leans casually against the counter, a grin plastered across his face as he chats to the female server.

His T-shirt rides up ever so slightly as he leans forward and you cough awkwardly, shifting in your seat to face away fro him, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands as if to climb further inside it. Sam, who’s sitting opposite you with his nose buried in his notes, peers up to gives you a knowing look.

“He’s just being Dean,” he says calmly, nodding his head in his brothers direction. You freeze for a second, feeling caught. Sam doesn’t take his eyes off you for a prolonged second, wondering if he should reassure you some more but decides against it. He can tell you feel uncomfortable and so he moves his gaze from you.

It’s not that you don’t appreciate Sam’s attempt at comforting you. He had noticed your affections for Dean a while ago, watching the way you’d lean into him for comfort on every case or how you’d laugh at every stupid corny joke. You swallow, shaking your head slightly. It didn’t do you any good to keep pining after him.

It’s then that Dean returns to the table, a tiny piece of paper gripped in his hand. Your stomach does a painful flip when you notice it. The servers number? You look away again, focusing on the parking lot outside. Dean however takes notice of this, sliding into the seat next to Sam. Sam didn’t bother looking up at his brother and simply slid over a handful of pages, to which Dean rolled his eyes.

Dean instead turned his attention to you, mirroring you as he tries to figure out what you’re so intently looking at.

“What’re we looking at?” he says, startling you. He’s leant across the table, propped up by his elbows as he looks toward the parking lot and then back at you. He gives you a closed lipped smile when you don’t say anything.

“Y/N?” he murmurs softly. He’s close enough that you can smell his cologne. It overwhelms you a little and you sit back in your chair. His eyebrows knit together in confusion and he too sits back.

“Just thinking,” you reassure quietly, giving him your best “I'm okay” expression. It feels like a grimace. He searches your face for a moment and then nods, apparently accepting your words at face value.

—

The next evening, you find yourselves holed up in a motel, two rooms between three of you. You try not to look too alarmed at this at the front desk, the bags slung over your shoulders suddenly feeling like dead weights.

“Sam, can I bunk with you,” you ask instantly as you’re leaving the reception kiosk, hoping he can detect the pleading in your voice. Dean frowns at you, scratching his cheek with the back of his hand. Sam begins to agree when his brother interjects, stepping closer to you.

“What about me?” he pouts. Your heart pangs and you try to appear nonchalant, shrugging. He frowns again and Sam, who’s trailing behind you both, chucks the second set of keys at him. "Here,".

Dean catches it with his spare hand and mutters something you don't quite catch. Sam hums in agreement.

You decide to walk in front of the pair, needing to get in bed as soon as possible. Your whole body felt heavy and your feet dragged as you made your way down the hallway.

Dean follows you closely. It’s then that you recognize the right door number and plop your bags down on the door mat finally, groaning as your shoulder twinges.

“You okay?” Dean asks, his hand coming up to rest on your arm gently. You flinch for a second, not realising he was that close behind.

“Y-yeah,” you mumble, trying to ignore the way your arm felt hot under his touch. He rounds you now, standing opposite you at the doorway. He’s looking at you with an unreadable expression, lips pursed.

“Are you?” you ask him awkwardly. His stoic exterior breaks at that and he blinks at you, almost like he’s offended at the question.

“Am I okay?” he scoffs. He doesn’t answer you, unlocking the door instead. With ease, Dean pushes it open and gestures inside. You now blink back at him, not moving. "Ladies first," he deadpans.

“I’m sharing with Sam,” you say lamely. Dean ignores you, hiking your bags over his shoulder and entering the room. You glance back over your shoulder and see Sam entering the room on the far left. He turns back to close the door and shoots you an apologetic look. Traitor, you think.

You sigh, admitting defeat and walking inside the room, closing the door behind you. It’s nothing special, dank and small. Two beds are pushed against the far wall, sad beige comforters draped over cream white sheets. Dean is sat on the furthest one from you, jacket now discarded and hanging over the bathroom door. He's wearing a greyish blue shirt underneath, the short sleeves hugging his biceps tightly. It's your favorite on him. You shift from one foot to another, not knowing where to place your hands.

He’s placed your bags at the foot of your bed. You stand in the entrance for a moment too long and Dean notices. He always does.

“Are you going to sit down or am I gonna have to put you to bed myself?” he asks. You flush slightly, cheeks pink and move hurriedly towards your stuff, muttering a quick sorry as you do. Dean huffs loudly.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” he asks exasperatedly. His upper body is turned toward you. You don’t miss the note of worry in his tone and you feel guilty.

Usually you’d play along with playful banter or his flirty comments and he wasn’t used to your solemn expressions and your sad eyes. It made his heart twist in a way he wasn't used to. It was painful and he didn't like it.

“I’m just…”you struggle for the right words to say, feeling tongue tied. Admitting your feelings for him was just out of the question. God you wished Sam had roomed with you like you’d asked.

Dean waits patiently and when you don’t finish your sentence, he pushes himself off the bed. You’re perched on the end of the bed now and he crouches so that he’s almost eye level with you.

“Is it something I said, or did?” he questions you. Again, you feel guilty. You shake your head quickly, lips pressed together in a tight line. He makes a “hm” sound that sounds pained and you break.

“I’m just not feeling my best,” you lie, trying your best to meet his gaze as he listens. “It’s not you,”

Dean doesn’t respond for a moment and you think perhaps he’s bought what you’ve said. However he scoffs again. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

His tone is somewhat harsher than you think he means but his face is soft, lips slightly parted as he silently pleads with you. You fidget, not sure how to answer him. “You know I care about you,” he whispers. He’s closer then you had realized. So close that you swear he must hear your heartbeat quicken.

“Did you call that girl?” you ask weakly, taking a sharp intake of breath as you spoke. Dean stares at you blankly for a moment.

“Girl?” he says, bewildered. You nod slowly.

“The girl from the diner,” you say, eyes trained at the tv stand just past Dean’s head in your line of sight. You fidget again.

“Why would I call her? I have you,” he says. You can’t help but laugh at that, it sounding shrill and foreign given the mood. It echos against the silence of the room. It seemed just like Dean to lighten the mood by giving you some line, something to cheer you up. But when you finally look back at him his face is serious. There’s no sign of amusement.

“She gave you her number though, right?” your voice is barely audible. He hears you though and a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. He half rolls his eyes, clearly bemused.

“And that means I have to call her?” You look at him. So he wasn’t interested in her after all. Maybe Sam was right, he was just being Dean.

He cups your cheeks lightly with his callused hands all of a sudden and you feel like all the air leaves you. “I have you,” he repeats. You feel dizzy.

“Don’t I?” he asks softly. He searches your face as if worried you don’t agree. You notice the way his shoulders have tensed.

“Yes,” you breath. His shoulders relax and he flashes you the most Dean smile imaginable.

[lotanxiety]

Ballsy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem reader

Summary: Your alter ego does something you always dreamed of but never had the balls to do. Let’s just say it leads to something great😈

Warnings: Shower sex, SMUT, NSFW 18+, slight breading, oral (female receiving), praise

____________________________________________

You grew up a hunter and crossed paths with Sam and Dean ages ago. Since you were around their age, you guys hit it off well and stayed in touch over the years. Soon after the boys had moved into the bunker, you did another hunt with them and mentioned you didn’t have a permanent home either and they graciously offered for you to stay with them! It’s now been 8 months of living with Sam and Dean. For the most part, it’s all great despite your hopeless crush on the eldest brother. You and Sam were best friends, and you and Dean had a weird, complicated friendship. You could never read him. Sometimes he would be flirty with you, giving you hope that something could happen, but then he would bring a girl home from the bar, breaking your heart a little more each time.

For the past two weeks, however, Dean has been extra flirty with you. He enjoyed making you blush and making inappropriate jokes at the worst times to embarrass you. This morning at breakfast, you sat across from Dean. While you both ate bacon, he kept watchful eyes on your every movement and when you’d make eye contact, he would wink at you or raise his eyebrows up and down. It made you giggle. You particularly loved when Dean was in a flirty mood, soaking up any and all attention from him before it would be gone.

You were pacing the floor in your room, thinking about the advice Charlie had given you.

“Just pretend you’re someone else and make a move.” Charlie said earlier in the week.

“I can’t do that, what if he doesn’t feel the same. It would ruin the whole dynamic. I’d have to move out and then go back to crappy motels and eat diner food all the time and-“ you rambled on.

“Y/N, please. Dean has had eyes for you for like… ever. Why else would he flirt with you like that? You can do it, just create an alternate version of yourself. She can have a new name and all the personality traits you want to have.” Charlie said.

“I don’t know, this feels kind of dumb”

“Just do it. Introduce yourself to me as the new you.”

“…um hi my name is-“

“Oh absolutely not, more confidence. Say it like you’re the queen of LARPing” Charlie states.

You clear your throat and try to push away any resistance that you normally would have. Right now you’re not Y/N, you’re Tessa; a smart, sexy, confident chick who goes and gets what she wants. You switch into this alter ego as best as you can and confidently say with some sultry in your voice, “Hi Charlie, I’m Tessa.”

“Much better. You got this, just go for it!”

I can do this. I just have to go for it. No fear. Well lots of fear, but fake it til you make it, right? Walking out of your room, you head for Dean’s bedroom. As you near the door, your heart races. The sound of the shower comes to your attention. “Oh shoot, of course once I muster up the courage to do this, he’s in the shower” you whisper to yourself, rolling your eyes. Then a thought crosses your mind. What would Tessa do? Walk right in there and take what she wants. Am I actually going to do this?

You open the door and enter Dean’s room, heart beating so loudly you were sure it was audible for the whole bunker to hear. You come to the bathroom door and knock so quietly that Dean doesn’t hear you. You take the opportunity to pause and get into character. You knock a second time, this time he hears you.

“Who is it?” Dean calls out behind the sound of water hitting the floor.

“It’s me” you shout back.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Dean asks from behind the door.

“Can I come in?” You ask. Despite wanting to walk in there, you obviously want to ask for consent.

“I- I’m kind of showering” Dean says thrown off by your question.

“I know” You retort back, lacing your voice with undertones.

Dean blinks under the running water, realizing what’s going on. “Come on in, sweetheart” he says. You open the door, trying to not let your fear show on your face, but the second you see his naked body dripping wet under the water, you’re sure your face falters. Without saying a word, you start stripping off your clothes. Dean watches in shock of the sight in front of him. Once your clothes are nothing but a pile in the floor, you stand in front of each other, both breathing kind of heavy but not saying a word.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Dean asks cautiously.

“Making a move” you say more confident that you thought possible with a smirk on your face. You slowly close the gap between the two of you. Deans eyes are dark with lust.

“Are you sure this is something you want?” He says, his voice much deeper than before. You nod your head as you look at him with your doe eyes.

“Words, sweetheart” he urges.

“Yes” you say breathless, now an inch away from him. With that confirmation, he quickly closes the gap between you two. The kiss was needy, but soft however quickly grew hungry for more. Stepping more into the shower, the warm water runs down your back and Dean starts to push you back against the wall, lifting your leg to his hip with his hand.

Breaking apart only for air he says, “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of this moment”. He lips make contact with your neck, trailing down to your collarbone as he tentatively paws at your boob. It’s all passion between you. 8 months of sexual tension all being released at once. His kisses move lower, as he starts sucking on one of your nipples, slowly lowering himself to his knees. His mouth follows this southbound patter until he lands on his knees in front of you.

Grabbing your hips with his hands he looks up at you. “God- you are so fucking sexy” he says as he starts to kiss and nibble at your thighs, urging them apart. Your core is aching for any kind of contact. Dean pokes out his tongue between your wet folds, causing you to gasp at the contact. He gives you one last devilish smirk before he laps away at your sex. It throws you off guard, almost causing you to lose balance, but Dean steadies you with his hands never stopping his pace. His mouth latched onto your clit, sucking and biting. It doesn’t take very long before that coil winds up so tight and you release all over his face. He rides out your orgasm and then you pull him up to kiss him again. The kiss is different this time, almost more meaningful but still steamy. You open your mouth, allowing his tongue to graze over yours tasting yourself on him. You reach a hand in between you to palm his hard cock, causing the most pornographic groan from Dean into your mouth. Despite having just came, your core was practically crying for more. Wanting to return the favor for him, you started lowering yourself to your knees, as you still palmed him.

He quickly grabbed your arms. “Not this time, darlin. I want to feel you. Can I do that?” Dean asks.

“Yes please Dean, I need you.” You say standing upright again. Dean lined himself up with you and slowly pushed in, allowing you to adjust. You squeeze your eyes tight as the pain melts into pleasure.

“You can move now” you tell Dean and he does at a gruelingly slow pace. He starts speeding up as he kisses your lips again and rests his forehead against yours. The only sounds are of the water hitting the floor, the contact of your skin, and the heavy breaths and moans coming from the both of you. Dean reaches his hand down in between the two of you putting his thumb against your clit and making small circles. You’re sensitive from your last orgasm so you suck a breath in through your teeth and close your eyes.

“Please look at me, I want to watch you unravel on my cock. You look so beautiful like this” Dean praises. That familiar sensation builds and builds.

“That’s it. Cum for me. You can do it, uh huh. Good girl” Praise repeatedly falls from Deans lips as you orgasm for the second time, so much harder than before. The tightening of your cunt around Deans cock causes him to cum as well, spilling his juices into you. You both stay in that position for a moment, foreheads pressed together, taking deep breaths. Dean slowly pulls out of you and leans in for another kiss.

“We should’ve done that a long time ago” he says and you just chuckled. You two clean up by finishing up the shower together, Dean sweetly cleaning up your sex and washing your hair for you. Once you two get out, you both cuddle up on his bed.

“So, um… what caused you to be so bold?” Dean asked as you nuzzled your head into his shoulder.

“I don’t know, I guess I was just tired of you flirting with me but not making any real moves” You teased.

“Hey, those are my moves” Dean said defensively.

You two chatted some more, then fell asleep in each others arms watching old tv show re-runs.

The End.

[siampie]

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 1.2 K  

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, pining, angst, fluff, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: I’m sorry for the short chapter. There isn’t much Dean in this one or much of an interaction between them. But I really hope you enjoy it. It is a short introduction to Reader and the very first meeting between our reader and the Winchesters. I know it says enemies to lovers trope, but I think it’s more along the lines of rivals to lovers. A bit like Anastasia and Dimitri, from the animated movie; Anastasia. If you know, you know. Which we’ll get more in the next chapter.   

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“Thanks,” You smiled at the waitress as she refilled your cup.

She sent a quick smile your way. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do.”

Sitting in the booth by the window, you were waiting for the help that Garth had promised you. You still had a hard time believing that he had sent the Winchesters your way. You had been working on this case for a little over two weeks. Strange killings had been going on in town. Wasn’t that how every hunt started? Strange deaths, classified more often than not as animal attack.

You knew better though. Everything about that case pointed to vampires. You had been able to locate their nest. Only problem was you were alone and there were at least eight of them. And before that case, you had never hunted vampires. Many hunters believed they had been hunted to extinction. And so far, you could only agree with them. Until now. It was a pretty big nest. At least, it was to you.

Not much of a team player, you usually hunt on your own. You liked it better this way. You didn’t have to depend on anyone for your survival. And you were the only one you had to worry about when on a hunt. It was better this way.

A dark muscle car parked next to yours on the parking lot. Two tall men climbed out of the car and made their way into the diner. The bell over the door rang as they walked through it. You observed them as they looked around the diner, certainly looking for you. The tallest of the two, with hair that belonged in a shampoo commercial, was the first one to clock you. Broad shoulders, tall, the Winchesters were handsome men. Way out of your league.

“Sam and Dean Winchester, I presume?” You asked as they stopped by your booth. You introduced yourself as they took a seat across from you.

The waitress stopped by your table. They placed their orders, and the waitress left with a smile on her face. And you told them everything they needed to know about the hunt, the nest and the location of it.

Your back slammed against the wall as the male vampire shoved you into the wall. You tried to push him away as the vampire snarled before he dived for your neck. You had a plan that you had, of course, shared with the brothers.

“That’s a stupid plan.” Dean scoffed.

“How is it stupid?” You asked with a frown.

“Too complicated.” Dean retorted. “It’s vampires, we go in, kill them, save the girl, go out. Simple, easy.”

“And my plan is stupid.” You scoffed in turn. “What about the not getting killed part?”

“We kill them before they kill us.” Dean said back.

“You have an answer for everything, huh?” You crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed at him.  

And now, there you were. Fighting off a vampire because Dean Winchester thought he was too good for your plan. Alright, maybe your plan wasn’t all that good. It was the first time you were hunting vampires, after all. And sure, Sam had given you precious tips on how to take down a vampire. But Dean could have at least given you the benefit of the doubt. Or at least, given your plan a chance. It wasn’t all that bad.

You always thought there were safety in numbers. Although, you’d rather hunt alone. However, this was a vampire nest and you needed help. And your plan was for the three of you to stick together while you go through the nest. The Vampires would not know you were there. Chances were, they did not expect anyone to come to their nest. It wasn’t a grand and complicated plan, as Dean made it sound. It was your plan. And you liked to do things your way.

That was why you were annoyed more than anything. It was your hunt and your plan. And Dean Winchester decided that he would take over. And you simply did not like it. But you swallowed your pride because he knew better than you did. He had hunted vampires before while you had not. So, you trusted his opinion but you still didn’t like that they were not doing things your way.

“Took you long enough.” You said breathless, as the dead vampire fell to the ground. Beheaded.

“You okay?” Sam asked you.

“Yeah,” You nodded quickly. “I’m good.”

“SAM!” You both heard Dean call from upstairs.

On Sam’s heels, you rushed upstairs to Dean’s rescue. There, you saw more vampires and still no trace of the girl. One of those vampires was pining Dean to the floor, going for his neck. As soon as you reached the landing, the vampires turned on you and hissed. You reached into your pocket for the syringe that contained the dead man’s blood. It was poison to vampires. It would not kill them but incapacitate them for a little while. You stabbed the first vampire that reached you in the neck, and they crumpled to the floor. You took this opportunity to behead the monster. Sam was a little to your left, fighting his own vampire. He kicked it in the stomach before marching onto it. Judging that Sam did not need your help, you rushed to Dean, and beheaded the vampire attacking him.

You pulled him to his feet. His hand covered his bleeding neck. Your eyes immediately went to Sam. The latter was kneeling on the ground, straddling a headless body. You looked around you. Bodies were strewn around the room. It seemed you had taken care of all the vampires. You abandoned the brothers to check the rooms. You had to find the girl, make sure she was alright.

She was not. Not really. The vampires had fed on her and thankfully, she had not been turned into one herself. Physically, she would heal but emotionally—there was a long road ahead of her. You hoped she would move on from this eventually.

“It’s a weekday.” You said as an answer after the brothers invited you out to the bar.

“So?” Dean frowned at you.

“I don’t drink on weekdays.” You shrugged.

Dean scoffed before shaking his head. “It’s just a drink after a hunt.”

“I get that but I don’t drink on weekdays.” You retorted. “You guys go. Do what you usually do. I’m going back to my motel.”

“Suit yourself then.” Dean said before walking up to his car.

You exhaled as you watched him go. “Anyway, thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome.” Sam smiled down at you. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You smiled at him. “I’d rather go back to the motel.”

“Well, if you need help with anything, give us a call.” Sam offered kindly.

“Will do.” You nodded. “It was nice meeting you guys.”

Sam grinned at you. “Yeah. Be safe out there.”

“You too.”

You waved him goodbye before you drove away. You wouldn’t call. Not if you can help it. But it was nice to know you had the option if you chose to. It couldn’t hurt to have the Winchesters as your ally, could it? And who knew? Maybe you would call.

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