#can we just throw dean away?

[deanwastherealmonster]

PSA: Dean punching Sam after Meg was exorcised in 2x14 was not a cute or funny thing. Sam had just gone through the harrowing and horrifying experience of being possessed, and the first thing that happens after he's freed is having the person he loves and trusts the most in the world punch him in the face. Face punching is nothing to sneer at. You can kill someone by punching them in the face, even once. Snap their neck, or break a bone and drive it into their brain. Probably other things. It was a horrible thing for Dean to do.

[deanwastherealmonster]

Why would you leave this in the tags?!

And I think the only way people can actually like this abuser is if they don't look at his abusive behavior, or just sweep it away with shit like Oh PoOr DeAn SaM aTe HiS LuCkY cHaRms. They literally ignore how he shouts at his loved ones when he gets mad at them, and has physically abused Castiel and Sam on multiple occasions. And that's not even getting into how much he abused Jack, especially when Jack had just been born. Dean comes across a three day old baby who's self harming and proceeds to promise that he'll kill him if Jack steps out of line. He's a fucking monster, and it infuriates me how few people see it.

It's been a while since I watched Supernatural, so don't take my opinions as gospel or anything. But I think Dean is self-hating to the point of narcissism in some ways. Don't get me wrong, I empathise with Dean and understand why fans largely do too. But his self-loathing warps his perception and becomes the centre of EVERYTHING and at times that really has ripple effects on those around him - particularly Sam.

Take their childhood, Sam has a right to mourn the fact that he didn't get a normal childhood. He's allowed to be angry that he didn't get a home, a present father, a stable community, and consistent education. But whenever Sam attempts to express his complicated feelings about his childhood, Dean immediately interprets it as ' oh I was supposed to look out for you. Are you saying I failed? Are you confirming I'm worthless?' which grinds the conversation to a complete halt. Because of Dean's intense self-criticism, Sam can never really be 100% honest with him or ask for support with his own issues, especially regarding their childhood. As anything outside of 100% gratitude just becomes another stick for Dean to beat himself with, and the conversation is immediately derailed.

Not only does Deans self-hatred mean that Sam's expression of his own experiences are pretty consistently shut down. In some ways, I think Dean strips Sam of his autonomy - he's so self-loathing, he sees every decision Sam makes as being about/a reaction to him. A good example of this is Stanford. Rather than understanding Stanford for what it was, an attempt by Sam to carve out a better life from himself and escape hunting. Dean views it as betrayal or abandonment, some re-affirmation of his own belief that he's not worth caring about. Rather than understanding it's a rejection of hunting, he sees it as Sam rejecting him. To Dean, Sam isn't attempting to find a better life, he's punishing the family.

Overall, it's interesting that people largely and rightfully sympathise with Dean due to his self-hatred. However, I don't see as much discussion about how his self-hatred doesn't just hurt him, it hurts those he's close to, as it colours his interpretation of their every action. Dean's self-loathing is always the biggest thing in the room and that has consequences.

[sweetyyhippyy]

Worship Something. Eddie Munson x fem reader. *SMUT*

Summary: Eddie has been thinking about being in bed with his girlfriend. Once she gets home, he does exactly that.

Word Count: 5.1k

TW: So much filth. A lot of oral sex (fem! receiving), daddy kink, Eddie refers to reader as "bunny" throughout, panty fetish?, fingering, vibrator use, bit of ass play, overstimulation, little bit of nipple play, squirting, safe word use, praising throughout, unprotected sex, very quick mention of blood (nothing serious).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Eddie couldn’t get her out of his mind. 

The way she looked.  The way she smelled.  The way she sounded when she was seconds away from exploding on his tongue.  The way she tasted. 

All afternoon his cock was strained in his sweatpants thinking about being suffocated in between his girlfriend’s thighs. Eddie drove to her apartment mid morning, thankful it was one of his days off and waited for her to come home. 

Time seemed to be moving slower the more he thought about her being bare naked on the bed while he serviced her all night. 

He really tried to not think about it, but it had been too long since it was just about her. 

Eddie could hear her keys jingle from the other side of the door, his body perking up as he sat up straight on the couch. He watched her walk through the door, keys in one hand and her purse slung over her shoulder. 

“Hi, Teddy.” Her face lights up as she lays eyes on him for the first time all day. “I was hoping you were going to be here waiting for me.” She throws her keys on the counter along with her purse and treks to the couch with Eddie. 

“How was work, sweet cheeks?” His smile was mischievous as much as he tried to hide it. He pets his lap, offering her a seat to sit on.

She undoes the scrunchie in her hair, letting her hair fall naturally before straddling his lap and kissing his cheek. 

“It was busy. Dean ‘forgot to mention’ that the senior citizens were coming for an early bird dinner special today and then he conveniently disappeared into his office for almost 2 hours.” She rolls her eyes, her fingers finding the end of Eddie’s hair and twirling the ends around. “An old man hit on me.” She pouts her bottom lip out. 

Eddie can’t help but laugh as she pouts. “I’m going to lose you to an old wrinkly man? Damn that’s cold baby.” 

“Absolutely not.” She fake gags dramatically. “He kept calling me doll and kept staring at my ass. And to top it off, he left me a 36 cent tip.” 

Eddie’s hands stroke up and down both of her thighs as he gives her a sympathetic look. “Aww, I’m sorry babe. I have a good idea on how I could make your night better.” 

She could see right through him, she knew that his idea had both of them naked and in her bed. “Oh? Why don’t you tell me your idea.” 

“We go into your room, I strip you down out of those stuffy clothes and give you a nice little massage.” Eddie slipped right into his dungeon master voice as he spoke to her. 

“A massage sounds nice.” She smiles warmly at him, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him delicately. She could feel the heavy weight of his cock against her inner thigh as she scooted closer to his body. 

Eddie’s hand travels up her back to the back of her neck, playing with the hair at the nape of her neck. 

Her body shivers against him as she feels the band of his rings on her skin. She smiles into the kiss, giggling softly. 

“What’s so funny?” Eddie smirks at her. His other hand firmly cups her ass and gives it a small squeeze.

“Nothing. You just gave me goosebumps.” She beams at him. 

Eddie’s hand snakes across the front of her neck and up to her cheek, holding her face while he starts to press kisses to the side of her neck. 

She flutters her eyes closed at the feeling of his lips on her skin, letting her head fall into his hand so he can have more access to her neck. “Eddie.” She hums quietly. 

“Yeah, baby?” He whispers in her ear, kissing behind her lobe. “What do you need?” 

“I need you.” 

Eddie picks his head up from between her neck and looks at her with hunger in his eyes. “Say no more, sweetheart. Let’s go.” He firmly smacks her ass, earning a giggle from her. 

She untangles herself from Eddie, grabbing his hand and leading him to her room. “I’m going to take a shower first. Do you want to join me?” 

“Just lay in bed, baby.” Eddie says, knowing he wouldn’t have the patience to wait for her and there was no way he was going to be able to eat her out for hours in the shower. 

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Eddie, I worked an eight hour shift today. I haven’t showered since this morning.” 

“And?” He shrugs his shoulders. “You’re going to get sweaty anyway.” He smirks. 

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” She laughs as Eddie envelops her, placing her in the middle of the bed.

Eddie climbs in the bed on top of her, unbuttoning her black top pushing the fabric away from the cups of her bra. “Are you going to let daddy take care of you, baby?” His large hand cupping her boob.

His words went straight to her pussy, making it flutter. She whines at him, pulling at the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“Ah.” He pushes her hand away. “I’m taking care of you, bunny. I’ve been dying to be tongue deep inside you all goddamn day. Lift your butt up for me.” He instructs, tapping her ass lightly. 

She listens and lifts her hips up off the bed, helping Eddie slide her pants off her thighs and down her legs, smiling as Eddie throws them to the floor. 

His fingers go under the waistband of her panties, playing with the small bow that was in the middle. “Been thinking about eating me out all day, huh? You like playing with me that much, daddy?” 

Eddie groans softly hearing her call him daddy, more blood pumping down to his dick that was leaking precum no question. “Baby I’d happily die eating this pretty pussy out.” He slides down in between her legs, his fingers touching the fabric of her panties to tease her. 

She happily hums feeling him touch her, she looks down to watch his every move as he plays with her. She loved seeing how focused he was while he ate her out, only having two things on his mind: making her cum and making her feel good when she cums. 

He licks at the dark colored fabric, getting a teasing taste of what was on the other side. 

She had the slightest wet spot right where her slit is, already soaking her underwear. 

Eddie pushes her thigh down on the bed lightly, holding it down to prevent her from closing around his head. He could cum in his sweats seeing the mound of her pussy poking out from behind her panties, only her slit being covered. “Your panties barely cover your pussy.” He smirks up at her, licking his lips. “It’s like playing peekaboo.” 

She giggles from behind her hand, her cheeks growing hot from embarrassment. “Shut up.” 

He lightly spanks her pussy, groaning as he sees her thighs jiggle. “Watch that cute little mouth of yours.” Eddie pulls her panties back, revealing the puffy lips to him and the glistening clit that was calling for him. “Hold these out of my way for me, bunny.” 

She pulls her panties back for him, gasping loudly as she feels the first lick from his tongue. Her hips stutter, pressing her pussy closer to his face. 

Eddie doesn’t stay in between her thighs long before he takes her panties back from her and covers it back up. He crawls up her body and kisses her stomach before bending back down over her pussy and rubbing her damp panties really wanting to tease her. 

“Eddie.” She whines, touching his clothed back. 

“Shh, bun. Gotta take my time with her.” His lips connect to her inner thigh, nipping at the plump flesh. He rubs her clit through her panties, feeling the spot grow against his fingertips. Eddie carefully peels them back again, sticking his pointer finger in his mouth to get it wet and tapping it against her clit. 

“Ah!” She whines loudly, shutting her legs around him. 

Eddie pushes it back down by her knee, glaring at her. “Keep your legs open for me baby. I need to see her.” 

“Sorry.” She whispers out. 

Eddie sticks his finger back in his mouth and goes back to tapping her clit lightly, groaning as he feels the smooth slick against the pad of his finger. He slides his finger down and into her hole, teasing the tight entrance. “So tight, bunny. I don’t know how you manage to take my cock. You can barely take my finger.” 

She cries softly as he stretches her out. “Feels good, daddy. Keep going please?” 

His other hand comes around and rubs her clit, continuing to pump his finger in and out. “Want two of them?” 

“Yes!” She sighs out, opening her legs more to help fit another finger in. 

Eddie sides his middle finger in, her muscle swallowing it in until he’s knuckle deep. “Good girl, bunny.” He whispers as he stretches her outs. 

The room fills with the sound of her wet slick and her moaning, the sounds making the head of his cock tingle. 

He slowly draws his fingers back and fixes her panties back as he goes to kiss her lips. “Doing so good so far. Can I keep going?” 

“Fuck, please?” She grips the sleeve of his shirt before running her hand down his arm. 

Eddie bends back down this time using his mouth to kiss at her pussy lips, sucking at the soaking wet fabric. 

“Eddie!” She whines in embarrassment, hiding her face in the crook of her arm. 

“It’s okay bunny. Don’t be embarrassed.” He whispers, rubbing her inner thigh soothingly. 

She feels his lips go back to her panties, teasing her clit with sloppy kisses and a prodding tongue. Her whole body was on fire the longer he teased her, needing him to finally dive in and eat her out. Her hips wiggle all over the mattress, trying to get as close to Eddie as possible. “I need it so bad.” 

Eddie chuckles, rubbing the outer lips of her pussy. “Need it bad? Need it so bad?” He mocks her, smirking at her. “I think you deserve some more.” He finally hooks his fingers under the waistband of her panties and slides them down her legs. “She’s a beaut.” 

Her boobs jiggle slightly as she laughs at Eddie, the way he talked about her pussy like it was a real object made her laugh every time. 

Eddie contorts his body to hover his head over her pussy, the rest of his body next to her on the bed. He dribbles spit onto her clit, patting her wet clit with his open palm. 

“Ah, fuck!” She gasps, squeezing her thighs together.  

Eddie tsks, gripping her knee and forcing her knees apart. He wastes no time burying his entire face in between her pussy lips, immediately sucking the pink button. 

“Oh fuck!” She sighs breathlessly, her hand keeping him where he is. She was already feeling dangerously close to her first orgasm of the night, and in the back of her mind she knew she was nowhere near done. 

Eddie sucks and licks at her clit furiously, moaning against her folds the tighter she held onto his hair. 

“Daddy please. That feels so good.” She breathes out, writhing her body around, needing to feel closer to him. “Please.” 

Eddie’s finger teases her entrance again, sliding it in with ease. 

Tingles spread through her clit, feeling a flood of wetness spread onto Eddie’s fingers. “I wanna cum so bad, please.” She could no longer control her moans, the sounds coming out as hoarse sobs. 

He desperately sucks at her clit, shaking his head back and forth, wanting to get her to her first orgasm. He could feel precum leak onto the front of his pants, he would be lucky if he didn’t cum in his pants by the end of the night.  

“Please don’t stop, daddy! You’re going to make me cum! Keep doing that please!” She sobs out, pulling the frizzy hair at the back of his head in desperation. 

He growls against her velvety walls, a wave of adrenaline running through his veins the closer she got. He knew her body queues when she was close, and he knew she was hanging on by a thread. 

“I’m going to cum! I’m going to cum! Please let me cum, fuck!” Her thighs close around Eddie’s head as she feels her clit twitch against his lips and her muscles contracting around his finger. Her head lulls to the side breathing shakily as Eddie continues to lick at her. 

She pushes through the slight overstimulation, feeling her body relax into the mattress. 

Eddie keeps lapping at her, practically making out with her clit. 

“Okay! Okay, no more.” She pushes his head away, her body stuttering. “Fuck.” She exhales, grabbing the back of his shirt to pull him toward her. 

His lips were a bit swollen and glistening with her cum as he leans down to kiss her lips. 

She pulls him in to press against her body, needing him close to her. She whines against his lips at the taste of herself, poking her tongue against his bottom lip wanting to play with his tongue. 

Eddie’s fingers stealthily crawl back to her still recovering pussy, tapping her clit again. 

“Fuck!” She pulls back from his lips, sinking her nails in his arm. She sobs out a whine, trying to run away from his hand and close her legs. 

“No, no, no you need to stay, bunny. Keep your legs open for me, I need to get something really quick.” He gets up from the bed and walks over to her dresser, rummaging through it. 

She can’t help but slip her own fingers down to her clit, absentmindedly playing with herself while she waits for Eddie to come back. 

He turns back around, slipping his sweatpants down his legs and kicking them off. “Jesus.” He mutters, pumping his cock with his hand. “Hard as a rock.” 

“I can help with that, you know.” She slides up onto her elbows, staring at the glistening head of his cock, her mouth practically watering at the sight. 

“Different night, baby. ‘M still not done with you.” Eddie throws something toward her, it landing in the bed with a bounce. 

Eddie was not intimidated in the slightest by the toys. The first time toys were introduced, Eddie asked her to use her vibrator on his cock and it was easily one of the most mind blowing orgasms he had ever had. 

She looks down and grabs the silver vibrator off the bed. “You’re trying to kill me?” She looks up at him with wide eyes. “I’m already sensitive.” 

Eddie lifts his shirt up over his head, throwing it to the floor. “Not trying to kill you bunny.” He smiles, getting back on the bed with her. “Just want to make you feel good. I want to take your mind off work and how long your day was.” 

She hands him the toy, kissing the tip of his nose softly. “Been a long time since you’ve ruined me.” She smirks at him. 

“Long overdue if you ask me. You know the safeword if you need me to stop.” Eddie gets back onto his knees on the mattress, turning the black dial on the bottom to turn it on. 

The low sound of the vibration fills the room, already making her clit flutter in anticipation. 

“Legs open, bunny.” He taps her inner thigh, pushing her knee away from the other. Eddie runs the toy along her puffy lips, making her body wiggle. The tip of the toy spreads her slick along her slit, her entire mound sparkling with wetness. 

She whines softly, lifting her hips up off the mattress. “Put it in?” The statement coming off as more of a begging whine. 

Eddie brings the tip from her clit down to her entrance, sliding in easily. “Oh bunny, I think you’re all stretched out. Feel how easy that went in?” 

A string of half moans come from her mouth, the sensation of the vibrations being inside of her feeling strange to her. 

“I’m going to put you on your side. Just trust me, okay?” 

She nods her head, letting Eddie turn her to her side, the toy still buried in her hole buzzing on what she would assume was medium. Her ass is propped up slightly, Eddie smacking the supple skin. 

He dips his pointer finger into the wetness of her clit, lubing it up to massage her tight hole, something they have only mildly experimented with a handful of times. 

“Oh!” She moans out, her hand flying behind her to grab his arm. “Sorry. Sorry, just surprised me.” 

“It’s okay, bun. You want me to keep going or you want me to stop? I wanted to stretch you enough to put a finger in. You think you can handle it?” 

“Y-yeah, yeah. Just go slow?”

He presses a kiss to one side of her ass. “Of course baby. Nice and slow.” He spits onto her hole and rubs at it softly and slowly. “Relax it just a little bit for me, bunny.” He says in a soothing voice. 

She unclenches herself the best she can, moaning when she feels the slight pressure of his finger begin to push in. “Fuck.” She gasps, reaching her arm down to press the vibrator inside her further, trying to distract herself from the stinging feeling. 

“Good job, bunny. Almost half of my finger is in you.” He continues to press kisses to her skin until his whole finger is inside. “There we go. Look at that, both of those cute little holes are filled. Are you feeling good, bunny? Is your daddy making you feel good?” 

“Yes, daddy.” She moans out, her eyes rolling in the back of her head.  She continues to move the vibrator in and out of herself. Her mind was spinning as both the toy and Eddie’s finger fuck both her holes. 

Eddie’s hand slides in between her stomach and the mattress, shifting her body so he can reach her clit, rubbing it slowly. 

“Fuck, Eddie!” She whines into the mattress. Her lower half jerks against him, tears stinging her eyes. 

“I want you to cum again for me baby. Give me a second one, bunny.” He kisses her back lovingly. “I’ll give you my cock all night if you cum for daddy. You want my cock, baby?” 

“P-please! Wa-want your cock.” 

“My girl is doing so good with all her holes full.” He whispers in her ear. 

She nods her head at his praise, her body convulsing against him. She isn’t given much warning before her clit begins to tingle and her walls contract again, cumming for the second time. “Oh my god!” Her body sinks to the mattress, trapping Eddie’s hand. 

“Snuck up on you, bunny. Keep riding it out, let me know when you’re all done.” 

The tears that filled her eyes during the buildup now fall down her cheeks. “C-can’t anymore, Eddie. Take the vibrator out.” 

Eddie slides the toy out of her, dropping it to the bed. “Is that better? Let me take my finger out right here okay? I’m going to go nice and slow.” Very slowly, Eddie pulls his finger out of her other hole, kissing her skin over and over until he’s fully out. He massages her for a few seconds before helping her lay her stomach down fully. “That’s a girl.” He runs his fingers up and down her spine lightly. 

She whines each time her pussy contracts around nothing, turning her head to the side and looking at Eddie with cloudy vision. “You’re the devil.” She grumbles to him. 

Eddie smiles, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “The devil needs to worship something unholy right?” 

She giggles at his joke, rolling over onto her back. Her hand touches his thigh, her pointer finger circling the skeleton head tattoo on it. “Still not done with me?” 

“Oh far from done my little bunny rabbit.” He leans down to kiss her lips, his hand groping one of her boobs while he makes out with her. “Can you handle two more?” 

“Yes daddy.” She spreads her legs open, feeling Eddie kiss from her collarbone down and over to her left boob, his lips wrapping around her nipple and sucking it lightly. She presses herself against him, needing to be closer to him somehow. “More, daddy.” She whispers. 

Eddie softly bites at her nipple, making her squeak out loud. “My baby likes a little bit of pain, don’t you?” He smiles up at her. “Like how that stings?” 

“Yes, daddy.” She moans. 

Eddie continues pressing kisses down her body until he lands in between her legs, his kisses spreading across her inner thighs and his teeth nipping her supple skin. 

She snaps her thighs closed around his head, whining loudly. 

He wraps his arms around her thighs, pulling them in closer around his head. His tongue licks a long stripe up her slit, tasting the wetness that was leaking out of her from the last hour. He buries his tongue deep inside her walls, tongue fucking her quickly. 

She weaves her fingers in his hair, forcing his tongue inside her further. “Please.” She didn’t know what she was begging for anymore. Another orgasm was going to leave her brain dead. 

Eddie lets go of one of her thighs, patting around the mattress for the toy that was still vibrating. He finds her other hand and slips it into her hand, moving it to her clit. 

She cries from up above at the vibrations against her swollen button. “I c-can’t!” Her body jerks. “It’s too much, fuck!” She presses the toy against herself harder, desperate for another orgasm. 

Eddie takes his tongue out, looking up at her with his round eyes. “Say the safeword and you can take the toy off. But I don’t think you want to say it, bunny.” 

She shakes her head, moving the toy in small circles. “Keep going.” She begs. “I can feel it already.” She shakily gasps, thighs trembling. 

She’s only felt this tingling a few times that was deep inside her walls, Eddie bringing her to this outcome. 

He buries his tongue back in her, slurping the juices from her obscenely.  He can’t help but to bury his fingers inside her, quickly fucking her with his two middle fingers. 

“Oh fuck! I-,” the rest of her words are lost in whining sobs. Her hand trembles as she tries to keep circling her clit. 

Eddie knew what was coming, and he couldn’t suppress the smile on his face as he felt his fingers get pushed out of her slowly. “Don’t hold it back, bunny. Remember what I told you, just push it out.” 

More tears start to roll down her cheeks, not being able to hold them back. “E-Eddie, I-,” She drops the vibrator to the side, just letting Eddie finger her. 

“I know baby, I know. It’s okay, daddy’s right here.” He coos at her. “It’s right there, I can feel it.” 

The rubber band snaps inside her, her thighs and Eddie’s forearm catching most of the spray. Eddie rubs her clit, making sure she got every last bit out. “Good girl. You did so good.” 

“Tu-tulip.” She cries, pushing his arm away from her clit. 

Eddie carefully pulls his fingers out of her, laying his body on top of hers, knowing she calmed down quicker when she felt his body weight on hers. “Good girl.” He whispers in her ear, kissing her shoulder. “Proud of you for using your words.” 

She rests her forehead on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his back to hold him even closer. What felt like aftershocks inside her walls make her shake against him. 

As worn out as her body was, she couldn’t help but think about Eddie’s cock poking against her thigh. “Put it in, daddy.” She whispers, reaching her hand down to pump his cock. 

“Fuck.” Eddie moans out, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. His thoughts all left his mind the second he felt her hand wrap around the middle of his shaft, relieved to feel some sort of pleasure. Eddie shakes his head, trying to turn the lightbulb back on in his mind. “You sure baby? You aren’t hurting?” 

“I’m okay daddy. I want you in me.” She presses a kiss to his shoulder. “Want you to cum in me.” 

Eddie groans at hearing her confess what she wanted, something that got both of them going. “We are a match made in heaven, bunny.” He smiles, getting up onto his knees in between her legs and lines himself to her entrance, pushing the head of his cock in slowly. 

She leans her head back, moaning loudly as he stretches her out. “So thick.” She sighs, a smile on her face. 

Eddie smiles down at her as he grabs her legs, placing them on his shoulders to get in deeper. “And I thought I stretched you out enough.” His fingers dig into her thighs as he slowly thrusts into her. “Can’t give it to you fast, bunny. I’m not going to last long. You feel so good.” 

“It’s okay, daddy. Just want you to be in me.” She whispers softly. “It feels so good to have you in me finally.” She slowly rocks her hips, meeting his thrusts. 

Eddie’s brown eyes screw close tightly, his balls already feeling tight. He was truly fighting for his life to not cum inside her this embarrassingly fast. 

“I wanna see your eyes, daddy. Look at me please.” The begging tone in her voice sent a shiver down his spine, goosebumps spreading across his ivory skin. Her nails rake down his arm lightly. 

He looks down at her, desperation in them. “And you called me the devil.” He smirks, caging her between his hands on the mattress next to her head. The tip of his cock hitting the back of her pussy, making her sink her nails in his skin. “You going to cum for me one more time, bunny? Hmm, cum on my cock?” 

“Yes, daddy.” Her voice rasps, her walls already fluttering around his cock, making him groan from deep in his throat. “Touch me.” She whispers softly, blinking up at him with those big doe eyes. 

Eddie sinks his middle and ring finger in between her lips, watching as she sucks his fingers to soak them. He slowly draws them back, bringing them down to circle her clit again. 

She half sobs and whines as he touches her clit, the little button sore and overworked. She stretches her head up to reach his lips, kissing him deeply while slipping her tongue into his mouth. 

The steady rhythm of his hips thrusting into her was long gone, his movements turning sloppy and quick. His lips leave hers first, pulling out of her. 

She whines at the loss of him, trying to pull him back to her. “No.” 

“Just hold on, bunny.” He lays behind her, pressing his chest to her back. His ringed hand grasps her thigh, lifting it up while he uses his other hand to guide himself back in her. “Shit.” He growls in her ear, going back to circling her clit. 

She reaches behind her to hold onto his forearm, whining loudly as he starts to fuck her again. “Fuck, right there daddy. Please don’t stop.” His tip nudges at the back of her pussy at just the right angle, making her tingle again and her body start to jolt. 

“That the right spot, bunny?” Eddie whispers in her ear, his breath hot on the shell of it. “You’re going to squirt again aren’t you?” The smirk on his face was clear in his tone. “C’mon baby, lemme have it.”

She shuts her eyes, grabbing his wrist while Eddie rubs her clit to keep him in place. “C-cumming! Oh fuck!” She sobs as she feels her cum splash out of her and onto Eddie’s thighs and cock. 

“Good girl. Good girl cumming for daddy.” He coos, kissing her ear. “Just gotta take my cum, bunny. Do that for me, okay? I’m so close.” 

She nods her head, completely fucked out and exhausted. Her body is limp as he holds her close. All she can manage is small, pathetic moans the quicker he fucks her, no more thoughts were in her brain. 

His fingers dig into the pillowy skin of her thighs as he feels his own orgasm wash over him, hot ropes of cum shooting deep into her walls. He bites his bottom lip, no doubt making it bleed from how hard he sinks his teeth into the flesh. Eddie slows his hips, keeping himself buried inside her until he could breathe again. 

She lowers her leg back onto the bed slowly, fighting the urge to close her heavy eyelids and fall asleep in Eddie’s arms. She feels his hand slide up to her hip, circling her soft skin. “How are you feeling, daddy?” She says softly, turning her head to look at him. 

“So good, baby. You did so good for me.” He reaches for her face to kiss her. “I’m going to pull out, okay? Just take a deep breath.” 

She winces at the loss of his cock inside her, her walls aching already. She rolls onto her side, wanting to face him so she could touch him, something she always loved doing after they fucked. Her fingers touch the stubble starting to grow out on his chin, smiling to herself. 

Eddie’s hand rests on her lower back, his fingertips drawing little pictures on the skin. “How are you feeling baby? I didn’t do too much?” 

“No, baby. I’m good.” She smiles at him sweetly. “Got me exhausted, but I loved every minute of you touching me. Always love how you know exactly the right places.” She scoots closer to him, resting her head in his chest. 

Eddie wraps his arm around her tightly, kissing the top of her head over and over. “I’m going to give you 10 minutes to rest, then we gotta clean you up, okay?” 

She nods her head, smiling happily to herself. “Will you come take a bath with me?” 

“Of course, baby. Whatever you need.” 

[deanwastherealmonster]

I headcanon that Jack gave Sam hero's luck but not Dean because he wanted Sam to be free of Dean's bullshit.

[supernaturalistthings]

Acts of Service

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester has been loving you for years in his own way and with a little help you finally realize it.

Warnings: soft core smut +18

You watch from across the bar as Dean sips his whisky from a short glass. You're on your third tequila pineapple and he looks as amazing as ever. His jaw is sharp and he has some slight stubble from not shaving for a few days. You, Sam, and Dean had just finished a tulpa case in Pennsylvania and had decided to celebrate with a few drinks at a local dive. You had worked with the boys for a few years now and it had become a tradition to celebrate after a win.

Meanwhile on your side of the bar you were starting to feel the bass of the music vibrating through you in a different way, the drinks were going down too easily, and the urge to dance was coursing through your being. You had sipped your thoughts away to your heart's content.

You had one too many to drink and you were starting to feel it. If you didn't watch yourself you were going to wake up in somebody's front lawn very shortly.

The feeling of warmth on your waist breaks you from your thoughts and you look up to see an unknown, attractive, dark haired, blue eyed man, with one of his hands on your waist.

“Sorry i didn't mean to startle you…” he says and then continues “Can i buy you a drink?” raising his to make sure you can understand what he's saying over the loudly playing music. It's not that he wasn't attractive, hell he was very attractive. But he wasn't Dean Winchester. He didn't have stubble, or piercing green eyes, or a gruff sultry voice that could make a girl melt. So you raise your full glass as an answer and in hopes to send him on his way but he doesn't budge. He leans in once again to make sure you can hear him and says

“Well, how about a dance?” He pulls back to see your answer but you look across the bar. Dean's eyes are locked on you and the dark haired man before you. If you didn't know better there was a twinge of jealousy behind his eyes. His jaw is locked and his hold on his glass is strong. You think back to all the times you had to watch him shamelessly flirt with local girls and even go home with them and something in you screams that this is your turn. Your eyes snap back to the man in front of you and you say

“Yes”

You down your drink and leave the glass behind. He puts his hand on your lower back and leads you to the part of the bar where everyone's dancing. You wrap your arms around his neck and start swaying your hips to the beat of the music. He's a pretty good dancer, but that drink you just downed starts to catch up with you and all of a sudden you feel hot, really hot. Your vision is slightly blurred and you can't tell if you're about to throw up or pass out.

You lean up to his ear and say that you'll be right back and start stumbling your way towards some fresh air. The walk to the exit feels like it takes a literal year but you finally get there and fling the door open. Little did you know there was a pair of eyes on you watching you your whole way out.

The familiar sensation of warmth on your waist once again breaks you from your thoughts as you've steadied yourself against the wall of the building. You look up expecting to see the newly met set of blue eyes but instead you're met with bright green ones. It's Dean. The confusion must've been written on your face so he clears it up for you.

“We’re going home” He wraps one hand around your waist and throws your arm over his shoulder so he can walk you side by side to his car. He opens your door and sets you in the passenger seat and buckles you in. He walks over to his side, gets in, and the next thing you hear is the engine roar to life. It hits you that you're leaving the bar without saying goodbye to the handsome stranger, or paying your tab, that you werent ready to leave.

“Wait, let's go back… i'll get the next round if we go back right now” You slur out. This makes Dean laugh deeply and he looks over briefly to take in your disheveled state. You never get like this so it's always hilarious to him when you do, and unbeknownst to you it amazes him how you can still look so beautiful.

“I don't think even the most careless bartender would give you another drink right now. You're cut off” He replies still laughing.

This makes you pout and you turn away from him and look out the window dramatically.

“Oh cmon sweetheart… you'll thank me in the morning trust me…” he breaks the silence

“The one time I find someone to take home…” you mumble out with an emphasis on “I”. He snaps his head over and looks you up and down. His grip on the steering wheel is turning his knuckles white. He lets out an unnoticed frustrated sigh and says

“You didn't really want him… did you?”

This causes you to slowly look over at him and he's already looking at you while momentarily darting his eyes back to the road. He wants an answer. But you don't give it to him, ashamed of how and what you really feel. You just bury your head back into the side of the door without saying anything until the motel comes into view. You're exhausted all of a sudden. You hear his door open and he opens yours which causes you to almost fall out of the car. He catches you and laughs and sits you back up straight. He unbuckles you and says

“Okay enough of this” and with that he scoops you up princess style and carries you to your motel room door. You're secretly thankful, as you are embarrassed that you're this drunk, you would've never made the walk. It feels like you're getting more inebriated by the minute. He puts the arm that was carrying your legs down gently and holds you there.

“I'm going to search your pockets for the key okay…” he warns you before gently diving his hands into your pockets until he grasps the key. He opens the door, swings it open, and then picks you up once again to carry you to the bed. He lays you down gently on top on the sheets and the next thing you know your eyes are closed and you have the deepest sleep of your life.

You wake up and the first thing you see is a glass of water on the side table. You reach for it and drink it like you haven't had anything to drink in days. You're pretty sure it was the best thing you've felt in a while, and this only reassures the notion that you are extremely hungover. You don't remember anything from last night other than dancing with some mystery man for a little bit while a pair of familiar green eyes watched you from across the bar. That's it. You lift the sheets that were comfily tucked around you off and see clothes laid out and tylenol behind the glass of water. You must've set yourself up for the morning once you got in. You're a genius is what you're thinking. You couldn't have been that embarrassingly drunk, that crosses your mind and soothes your conscience. You're thankful for the sliver of soberness in you last night and throw on the fresh clothes, brush your teeth and go to head over to Sam and Dean's room. You knock and Sam opens the door. The smell of greasy breakfast food hits you and warms your soul. It's exactly what you need right now.

“Tell me you got something for me” you ask while looking hopefully at Sam.

Sam laughs and says “Yeah Dean went earlier, he got your usual”

You look over at Dean who keeps his eyes on his food and say thank you. You take a seat at the small motel room table and start diving in. You look up and Dean is looking at you and smiling softly.

“What?” you say cluelessly

“Nothing” he replies, dropping his smile and focusing back on his food and you do the same.

“So how was last night? Was it epic” Sam says with a curious smile, eyeing the both of you.

“Not really, I was sober enough to set my clothes out and get under the covers so I'd say it was kind of a bust” You say laughing as you take another bite of your breakfast. Everything gets quiet for a second and you wonder what you said to cause such an awkward vibe.

“I'm going to shower” says Dean and he gets up without even looking at either of you, walks to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. You hear the shower start and that's when Sam leans in and looks at you seriously. You pause mid bite and look at him confused.

“What?” you say setting your plastic fork down

“You know Dean got you home last night right?” he says directly

“I figured…” you reply, “so?” you continue.

“So… Dean set your clothes out…” it's starting to hit you, he continues “He drove to get you tylenol because we only had the strong stuff…” It hits you, “He set out a glass of water… he tucked you in, he woke up early and got your favorite breakfast. Hell he even paid your tab” Sam says looking towards the bathroom.

It felt like the world stopped spinning, in that moment cars stopped driving, birds stopped chirping. Everything was still. The realization was flowing through every molecule of your being and you were absolutely frozen, other than your jaw dropping you couldn't move. Dean Winchester cares about you. He cares about you as more than a friend, he sees more. It keeps repeating in your head until hopefully it sinks in. He sees more.

How could you have not seen this before? Maybe it's because he knew the real you, he knew more about you than anyone else, and how could anyone love or care about you once they do? That question can no longer plague you because He sees more.

All you can say is, “Thank you Sam”

He replies with a nod and takes his breakfast and says that he'll be in your room. The door shuts behind him and you're left alone awaiting Dean to step out of that bathroom. You’re carefully forming your thoughts making sure what you say is exactly what you feel. It's going to be perfect. You hear the bathroom door creak open and you quickly stand and turn to face a half naked dean who's only wearing jeans and drying his hair with a towel. He pauses when he sees you're the only person in the room. You feel like you might explode.

“Where’s Sa-”

“I care about you… alot” you interject. The silence is deafening. So much for your deep thoughtful speech. You can't take the silence and break it by continuing “and I know you care about me too…”

He's absolutely frozen, cornered. It was now or never.

“How did you-”

“I can just tell” you cut him off. You smile proudly, only now realizing you have the ability to make the Dean Winchester speechless. You're scared you might’ve overstepped, might've been too enthusiastic when he starts laughing and smiling. Maybe Sam was wrong? But that all changes when he says “i don't just care about you… im in love with you…”

It was your turn to be frozen. “You don't have to be yet… but I want you to know that I've been in love with you for a while now. I love your laugh, your smile, hell I even love what you get for breakfast.” Your eyes are wide in disbelief, he walks forward until he's close enough to where he can reach out and brush some hair out of your face and then continues. “I'm painfully in love with you. With everything about you” He’s desperately scanning your face for any sign of reciprocation, any sign of hope. He gets his sign when your mouth curves into a bright smile beaming at him, and before he can even realize it he has one of his own shining back at you.

You don't know who leaned in first, but the next thing either of you know is that your lips are moving against each others. You're running your fingers through his still damp and already messy hair. His hands are at your waist and holding you there like fine art. You were to him, something timeless, thought provoking, head turning, beautiful. This kiss was the start of Dean Winchester's future and he knew it. It tasted sweet and he savored every movement of your lips with his own, grateful for anything you give him.

His hands were electrifying you with every soft touch. You were melting in his arms and you can't get enough of him. You were pressed flush against his bare chest and you can't help but run your hands over his broad shoulders while continuing to kiss him deeply. You can't help but still be in a bit of disbelief. You could kiss him for hours, and by the way he's kissing you, he could too.

He pulls back and says “I don't want to rush things…”

“I was thinking the same thing…” You say, but yet again you have no idea who leans in first but your lips collide once again. His hands are on the sides of your face and yours are resting on his stomach. The room is filled with the sounds of your kiss and occasional involuntary moans, this feels better than either of you had imagined and you can't help it.

“When did he say he'd be back?” Dean mumbles into the kiss referring to Sam.

“He didn't” You mumble back barely breaking the kiss to do so.

You both simultaneously pull back and look at eachother wide eyed and it's like a lightbulb goes off over both your heads, but you can still see the worry plaguing his eyes so you say. “It'll be perfect no matter what because it's us… You and me.” You lace your fingers with his and at that he smiles and pulls you to him and towards his bed. He picks you up and lays you on the bed with him on top of you and it makes you both laugh into the kiss. When suddenly a pang of worry hits you. The last thing you want is for Sam to walk in on what's about to happen. As if on cue you hear the door shut and both of your heads snap to a frozen and panicked Sam. Dean begrudgingly and with a groan stands up and off of you and you immediately sits up. You're utterly embarrassed but Dean is just annoyed.

“Really?” Says Dean

“I wasn't expecting that, I mean I was hoping things went well but… wow” says Sam while setting the remnants of his food on the table. Dean finds a shirt in his bag and throws it on along with his shoes and grabs your hand and starts leading you towards the door. “We’ll hit the road in 2 hours until then … stay here” Dean says to Sam and he rolls his eyes. Dean shuts the door behind you both and starts walking you towards your room with a grin like he's won the lotto, and in his head he has. You laugh and he says

“What? Checkout isn’t for another two hours, might as well make the most of it…” He leans over and places a quick kiss to your temple. Your eyes flutter closed for a second. You've never felt this type of contentment before. You realize you never said i love you back earlier and you immediately look to the side of his face and say

“I love you too by the way” He immediately looks over and smiles wider than you've ever seen him smile before. In the moment he feels the contentment the same as you. His life just got a hell of a lot better and he knew it.

[sounknownvoid]

💯 💯...yes! ... society if more people realised how toxic n abusive dean is

Dean is an abuser.

(this is a repost)

So you know how a lot of people just ignore or brush past Dean's abusive actions? I believe a good portion of people who do that are just taking what they are seeing at face value. The only context they use is what is directly in front of them.

For example, Dean tricks Sam into 'real' bacon despite knowing Sam doesn't want to eat that type of bacon.

That you can see as a sibling prank, is it messed up? Yes, but you can forgive it very quickly at face value. Siblings get under each other's skin all the time, that's their dynamic, Dean's just pranking his little brother. Right?

However, when you add in more context, Dean often judges Sam on what he eats. He often will reduce it down to rabbit food and acts very annoyed having to see it even if it doesn't affect him. It's seen as a big gesture when Dean gets Sam food he genuinely likes. Not a big deal on its own, right? Just another Dean quirk, he doesn't like healthy food.

Well, going back to that particular scene, it's established, Dean is pretty in charge of the food, it's why Sam doesn't trust the bacon at first and was proved right. In different episodes and scenes, it's implied Dean is the one who basically runs the kitchen. So he runs the kitchen and the groceries. Interesting.

Again, at face value that doesn't seem like a big deal. However, this is not the only thing Dean gets a big say on in Sam's life.

What is Sam in control of then? Not only for himself but the two of them?

Sam isn't in charge of driving, that's Dean's thing. Did Sam ever drive? Yes, but there were always specific circumstances that led to it. Especially if Sam was driving Baby.

"But Dean's the car guy, so that makes sense."  Okay, well, let's look at some more things Dean gets a say in.

Sam going out and who he contacts. Dean always knows, and if he doesn't, Sam is lectured about keeping secrets. "It's because of Ruby!" Is it? This didn't just occur after that, and it certainly didn't stop long after Ruby was gone.

Dean didn't make a big deal out of it before Ruby, it doesn't mean it wasn't a big deal though. Sam always shared that information beforehand, it was expected. And even years after Ruby was long gone, Sam's whereabouts had to be known at all times.

But let's say that's just Dean feeling betrayed and overprotective.

Well, what about Sam's autonomy and Dean getting the final say in it?

How many times did Dean bring Sam back to life without Sam's consent? Not to mention, he tricked Sam into permitting an angel to use his body as a vessel even when Sam was ready to die, it was Dean who was clinging onto him. Dean knew Sam would rather die than let an angel use him as a vessel. Yet, he still did it, and to fix his mistake, he had to let a demon into Sam's body. 

When Sam asked to die, it was decided to keep him alive because Dean wasn't ready to let go. When Dean asked to die, Sam respected his wishes. More than once. And Dean didn't forgive him for that. (When Sam didn't search for Dean when they had both agreed to quit messing with the balance of life and death. To quit going searching for each other when they've passed.)

Or what about forcefully making Sam detox all at once, and pushing on even though it was a very real possibility of Sam dying. Because Dean would rather his brother be pure and dead rather than tainted and alive.

Now, what does this have to do with my first example, of Dean tricking Sam into eating bacon?

It doesn't seem like a big deal until you realize just how much control Dean has over Sam. From Sam's literal life to his food choices and many things in between. Dean gets a say in it, and more often than less, Dean's say is the final say.

But a lot of these examples are excused because they focus on the context surrounding that season, that episode, that scene. However, all of Dean's actions add up and the more context you add to his behavior the more you start to notice this pattern.

Context matters and so does depth.

[jaredpadonlyyyy]

𝘾𝘼𝙍 𝙎𝙀𝙓

• 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏𝙏𝙔, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏

• 𝙄𝙁 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 18+ 𝘿𝙊 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿!

• 𝙐𝙉𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙎𝙀𝙓 (𝘿𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙧𝙖𝙥 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥) 𝙋 𝙄𝙉 𝙑.

• 🩶 • • • 🌙 • • • • ✨ • • • ✨ • • • • 🌙 • • • 🩶 •

Dean and Y/N had been arguing the whole car ride back to the hotel. “Oh so now I’m not good enough?!” She asked him angry as he snapped his head towards her. “I never said that.” Dean told her as she shook her head not believing his word at all. “I’m a girl so I won’t get the work done right?” She sneered at the Winchester hunter. “I never said that!” He yelled back at her taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at her. “Well, that’s how it sounded to me.” She told her as she crossed her arms across her chest. “Oh I’m sorry!” He said sarcastically to her.

Y/N scoffed as he sighed. “I’m sorry okay.” He said that time genuinely. “No, you’re not.” She told him not wanting to give in to him. “Look—.” “No!” She said. Dean groaned and pulled his impala over to the side. “What are you doing?” She asked him as he put his car in park and gets out. She watched him as he walked over to the passenger side of the car and he opened it pulling her out. “Let me go.” She tried to get his grip off of her. “Stand.” He ordered making her glare at him. “Look, I’m sorry okay? I mean it.” He said as she shakes her head. “Let’s just go.” She told him. “No! Not until you take the apology.” He said to her as she shakes her head and leaned against the hood of the impala. “We’re not leaving until you take the apology.” He told her as she looked up at the him.

“Well, then we are going to stay here all night.” She smiled up at the hunter. “Come on!” He said as he turned to look at the view from where he had parked. The place was alone. So, they had some privacy in the place. Y/N just looked at the view not saying a thing. She wanted to get on his nerves, just like he has the past week. She was done and she was really annoyed with him. Sam would say they act like a lot like a couple, more like a married couple. Y/N would throw him something as he would just laugh like it was a joke to him. He would say that the sexual tension between them was really strong and they will explode one day and they will have some most likely angry, fun, sex. Y/N scoffed at the thought she had.

She would prefer to burn in hell again. Then to ever have sex with Dean. Well, she wouldn’t admit it to her self or to anyone like ever. “So, you’re just gonna be there?” He asked her as he turned back around to her. “Well, where am I supposed to be?” She snipped at him. Y/N and Dean had been best friends since they can remember. But lately they had been going at it back and forth between arguments about her safety and what not. And it would really piss her off.

She groaned. “What do you want from me? You’re acting like I can’t take care of myself.” She told him I’m very capable, Dean!” She raised her voice at him. She was fed up with the same argument every day. Everytime they went on a hunt and she got a little hurt. She was just tired of all of it. She was done.

Dean glared into her back and stomps over to her in anger. He grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. “I know you can, but I worry, Sammy he worries.” He said to her. Y/N angrily pushed him back into the impala slamming him against it with her arm on his neck. “Leave me—.” Before she could say anything. Dean slammed his lips against hers so she would stop talking. She didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. He grabbed her waist turning her around and slammed her against the impala making her gasp into the kiss. Y/N took his bottom lip and bites it hard making wince. Breathing heavily. Dean pulled away a few inches away from her. She was so turned on by the kiss. “Fuck me.” She whispered against his lips.

He didn’t hesitate a moment. He opened the back door of the impala pulling her inside with him as she got on top of his lap. Both hunters ripping each others clothes off flying everywhere around the car. Dean took her nipple in his mouth making her throw her head back rolling her hips wanting some kind of friction. His other hand taking in her other nipple as she moaned. Doing the same thing with the other. He lets go. He reached down rubbing softly her clothed pussy making her moan, as he moved it to the side.

Y/N reached down on him and unzipped his pants reaching inside bringing out his unbelievably hard shaft her hands pumping it making him throw his head back as his moans softly. Y/N lifted herself up as he looked into her eyes putting it in her entrance. Dean grabs her hips as she slides down. She moans as he stretched her out. Dean gripped her hips tightly as he thrusted up as she slides down. “Oh god!” She fell forward as his tip hits her G-spot. Dean holds her waist as she started moving up and down his dick.

“Fuck, you feel so tight.” Dean groaned as she started going faster. Y/N sat up straight putting her hands on his chest for support as she bounced on him at a rapid pace getting moans out of the hunter. Her moans started getting louder as she clenched around him her orgasm at bay. Dean knew he was about to cum as well as he felt his dick start to twitch “let go for me, princess, let it all go.” Was all he need to say as she gasped her breathing stopping as her eyes rolled to the back of her as she shook uncontrollably. Just watching the way she trembled on top of him, the way her walls fluttered it had triggered his own climax. “Aaargh!!” Dean gripped her hips very tightly rolling her hips making him hiss as he released his seed inside of her. Spurt after spurt as she gasped at the overstimulation he was giving her. “Dean, fuck! Dean, aah!” She digs her nails into his chest as she felt her second one coming along. She was so sensitive that she tensed as she screwed her eyes shut as she shook another orgasm overtaking her body in ways she couldn’t imagine.

She felt like she was sent to heaven. Dean lets out a loud grunt and stopped her as she flopped onto his chest breathing heavily as she felt her heart about to come out of her chest. “Argh, fuck.” Dean glowed as he lifted her up off of him as she sat on his side her eyes closed as she catches her breath from what just happened. She’s been with men before. But no one and she means no one ever came close to giving her an orgasm like he did. And not just once but twice.

She opened her eyes after a while a lazy smile on her face. “Fuck.” She said laughing as she looked over at a smiling Winchester hunter. “That was…” she didn’t know what word to use for what had just happened.

“Amazing? Heavenly?” He said laughing as they both sat there. “Yeah you could say that.” She said as she bites her lip. She looked at his softening dick and she bites her lips. He was pretty big. She could’ve felt it when he would slam into her. “Like what you see?” He asked her as she looked back to his eyes as he smirked. “Yeah, I do actually.” She said. “Would it be too much to say… I want another round?” She asked.

“Trust me sweetheart, way ahead of you.” He said as he looked down, making her look down and saw his dick getting hard again. She smiled. He grabbed her from her waist making her lay down making her giggle as he got between her legs. His hard dick thrusted into her sensitive pussy making her gasp.

It’s how they sent the reminder of two hours. Both letting out frustrations with each other.

• 🩶 • • • • 🌙 • • • ✨ • • • ✨ • • • 🌙 • • • • 🩶 •

If you have any requests lmk. I’ll see what I can do. Since I don’t really do stuff like this. I can try. The only things I don’t do. Are daddy kinks or wincest, or age gap. But other than that feel free. If you can a castiel one. Lmk I don’t write about him but I’ll do it for you and I’ll try my very best to do it. ☺️ ps. I’m a destiel shipper but I don’t write destiel smut sorry.

[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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[prentissluvr]

something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket. 

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years. 

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.” 

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours. 

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have. 

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up. 

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch. 

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed. 

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel. 

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat. 

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand. 

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love. 

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips. 

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap. 

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth. 

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible. 

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

[deanwastherealmonster]

For real. I couldn't believe that Sam was saying that given the fact that Dean abandoned him in the Cage for a year and only really devoted himself to saving Sam because he couldn't stand being around a Sam who didn't worship him and accept his abuse. It was gut wrenching to see Sam either feel like he had to say that to protect his son, or, even worse, if he was actually stuck so deep in his Stockholm Syndrome that he genuinely believed it.

Little brother Sam always knows exactly what to say to get Dean off the ledge. 

[girlgenius1111]

give yourself a reason

engen!reader memories, and the present. changes. sol reflects on how different her life is now. good different. even if getting to the good was hard. here she is.

warnings: discussions of depression. sol gets into a fight. with people, and then a mug and a picture frame so, some blood.

------

It was a bit of a deja vu moment, honestly. You were sitting in the dean’s office once again, only a couple months after the last time. Then, you had been pretending you didn’t care. A lot had happened since, and a casualty of the progress you’d made was that you could no longer pretend not to care. You did care. You cared so much, you thought you might throw up. 

You’d begged them not to call Ingrid. Begged. They had anyway. You couldn’t help but worry about her reaction to this most recent fight, though it hadn’t been your fault. You hadn’t been in trouble since everything had happened, and you weren’t quite sure what to expect. Would everything change? Would Ingrid still want you? Every set back you had, every mistake you made, had you convinced that Ingrid was going to change her mind, and send you back to Norway. You were working on it, thinking of yourself as worthy of their love, but it wasn’t easy, and you felt your eyes stinging with tears that had nothing to do with the beating your face had taken. 

You weren’t sure you could go back to not feeling loved, not when you’d been experiencing something so different recently. The dean didn’t seem to care that your face was rapidly swelling, that you were crying, or that you hadn’t stopped bouncing your knee since you’d been brought into the office. He’d already let the boys go with a warning. He hadn’t even called their parents. You didn’t know what to do when Ingrid arrived, didn’t know whether to try to explain, or to stay quiet and just take your punishment. 

You felt so weak, suddenly. Crying, in front of this absolute asshole? Normally, you’d never let a person you didn’t know well see you this emotional, but your face really hurt, and honestly, you just wanted a hug. You were pretty terrified, though, that you wouldn’t get one. 

That you didn’t deserve one. 

The speaker in the office crackled to life, then, and the secretary’s voice rang out into the room. “Ms. Engen’s guardian is here.” 

The dean took a break from glaring at you to hit the button on the speaker. “Send her in.” 

You directed your gaze at the ground and tried to make yourself as small as possible, hearing the door open behind you.

“Mi sol, are you okay?” Mapi said instantly, moving quickly into the room and crouching down next to your chair. You refused to look at her, and she knew she had to be careful about this. Mapi showing up instead of Ingrid was a relief, but only for a moment. Then, you were just worried that she was too mad to come get you. 

“I was expecting the elder Ms. Engen,” the principal began, though he was quickly interrupted by your sister’s girlfriend. 

“Ingrid couldn’t get away from work, and I am a guardian too. Her face is bleeding, and her hands. Has she been seen by the nurse?” Mapi asked bitingly, scowling at the man on the other side of the desk. 

He looked a little put out. “Well, no, we were-” 

“Jesus, she could have a concussion.” Mapi snapped, her gentle hand on your back completely contradicting her sharp tone.   

“I don’t think-” 

Mapi ignored his response completely, slowly moving her hand up and down your back. You were shaking, and Mapi knew that if she wanted to avoid a panic attack, she had to do something, soon. 

“Mi sol?” she asked in a much softer tone, frowning when you shook your head. You knew if you looked at Mapi you’d burst into tears, and you absolutely did not want to do that in front of the dean. 

Mapi thought for a minute, before she turned back to the man. “Can we have a minute please.”

It wasn’t really posed as a question, and the man frowned at Mapi before nodding somewhat indignantly and walking out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind him, you looked up, breaking Mapi’s heart with the terrified look on your face, and the rough sob that fell from your lips.  

“Oh, nena,” Mapi sighed, seeing the extent of the damage to your face for the first time. It was mostly bruises and a very swollen lip. Your knuckles were swollen, too, but there were very few cuts on your face, and for that, she was glad. Mapi’s hands flitted over your face, her own scrunched with worry. “I’m so sorry this happened.” 

“Is Ingrid mad? Is that why she isn’t here?” You choked out.

Mapi shook her head, carefully wiping a tear off your face. “No, no, she couldn’t get away from training. She isn’t mad, I promise, she sent me to come bring you to her so she could see you were okay.” 

“Are you sure she’s not mad?” 

“I promise, cariño. She is not mad at you.” Mapi replied seriously. “Tell me what happened.” 

“They came at me, Mapi, I promise I didn’t start it.” You cried, almost pleading with her to believe you. 

“I believe you, I believe you.” The Spaniard soothed. “Where are they?” 

“He let them go with a warning.” You told her, watching as her face hardened. She seemed to think for a minute, before she stood, gesturing for you to do the same. 

“Fuck this. I’m taking you to your sister. Ingrid and I will come back later to speak to the dean and see the security footage. Venga.” 

“Mapi, I’m in trouble,” you tried to tell her, but she just shook her head. 

“Not with us. We’ll deal with it later, I promise. I want to get you taken care of and calmed down first, and I don’t think I can do that here.” Mapi told you gently, pulling you out of the room when you nodded hesitantly. You hadn’t realized you were shaking intensely until Mapi had mentioned getting you calmed down. You supposed you were getting close to a panic attack, and just hadn’t noticed. 

You continued to tune out as Mapi led you out of the office, standing in front of you protectively when she addressed the dean. 

“Ingrid and I will be back later to discuss the situation. We’re leaving now.” She told him. 

He looked at her with an incredulous expression on his face. “She can’t just leave, we have to discuss her punishment.” 

“We can discuss it later.” Mapi repeated, turning without another word towards the door, guiding you out of the school. 

Once you were out the door, Mapi wrapped an arm around your shoulders, steadying your shaky steps. “Alright, we’re almost to the car, just hang on, okay?” 

You could only nod in response, starting to lose yourself in your head, clinging tightly onto Mapi. Time seemed to speed up, or skip ahead entirely as suddenly you found yourself in the passenger seat of the car, your sister’s girlfriend buckling your seatbelt for you. 

“In and out, nena. Just breathe. Everything is okay. No one is upset with you.” Mapi was saying, waiting for you to give a faint nod before she made her way over to the driver's side door. It was quiet in the car save for the hum of the engine and the gasping inhales and exhales coming from you every few seconds. 

“Tell me what you’re worried about.” Mapi instructed, taking your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Ingrid- Ingrid is gonna be mad and make me go back to Norway,” you breathed, shutting your eyes as another wave of panic washed over you.

“That is not going to happen.” Mapi said confidently, grabbing her phone and clicking Ingrid’s contact. Her girlfriend picked up astoundingly quickly considering she was supposed to be training, and her voice over the phone made you both terrified and reassured at the same time. 

“We’re in the car, she was too upset, we can come talk to the dean later.”

“What do you mean she’s too upset? Is she okay?” Ingrid asked worriedly. 

“Talk to her.” Mapi instructed, holding the phone out to you. You looked at her pleadingly, but she just nodded encouragingly, eyes fixed on the road in front of her. “It’s okay, nena, just tell Ingrid what you told me.” 

Ingrid could tell when you took the phone, as she could suddenly hear your rapid breaths as you gulped in air and tried to get the words out. “Hey, it’s just me. You can tell me.” Ingrid said softly. 

You closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of Mapi’s thumb tracing over the back of your hand instead of the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. “M’ scared you’re mad and you’re going to send me back to Norway.” 

“I’m not mad. This wasn’t your fault, just like the last one wasn’t, and I am not angry with you. You are not going back to Norway. You are staying right here with me and Mapi. You’re okay, Solstråle, I promise.” 

“Okay.” You said, nodding your head as you replayed her words over and over in your head. “Okay.” 

“Okay, sweetheart. I have to go, but Mapi is bringing you over, okay? I’ll see you soon.” 

Mapi quickly bid her girlfriend a goodbye before hanging up, though her hand didn’t release yours for the rest of the car ride. 

Getting to the Barça grounds was somewhat of a blur, and before you knew it, Mapi was leading you to the pitch where Ingrid was running drills. When Ingrid spotted you, loitering on the sidelines, she spoke a few quick words to Jona before making her way over.. You were half hidden behind Mapi, which was no accident, but the concern on Ingrid’s face brought another round of tears to your eyes. You stepped forward anxiously, bottom lip beginning to wobble. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ingrid sighed, getting a quick look at the wounds on your face before you were barrelling into her and wrapping your arms tightly around your sister. “Hey, it’s okay.” She whispered, running her hand through your tangled hair in a soothing manner. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you blubbered. If you had been even a smidge calmer, you would have been embarrassed about sobbing into your sister’s training kit in front of most of the team. 

“Don’t apologize, Solstråle. Everything is okay.” She soothed, looking over your shoulder at Mapi, before pulling away from the hug to examine your face. She frowned deeply at the damage that had been inflicted, trying to shove her anger down. It would only scare you further, and you really didn’t need that right now. 

“It hurts,” you whimpered, flinching as Ingrid’s finger accidentally made contact with an already forming bruise. The way you were acting was so out of character for you, Ingrid felt her worry growing by the second. You were so upset, you were shaking and sobbing. It hadn’t really occurred to anyone how triggering this might be for you, what a reminder this fight would be. Not just of what had happened a few months ago, but of your time in Norway. There wasn’t a fight you’d gotten into that you didn’t have to take care of your own cuts and bruises. No one ever heard you out, no one was ever not mad at you. 

A fight had been the last straw before you were sent to Spain, and it was as if all the feelings you’d repressed during those occasions were flooding back through your body, until your nervous system was in overdrive. 

“Solstråle,” Ingrid said again, trying to get your attention back on her. You hummed in response, forcing your eyes to focus on your sister. “Two options, okay? We can have the physios patch your face up, or we can go see a doctor. What would you prefer?”

It was something Mapi had read in her definitely-not-a-parenting parenting book. Giving you options in a situation you were anxious about forced you to calm down a bit, and choose. It gave you a sense of control, while still ensuring that you did what had to be done. 

“Physios.” You told her, after just a minute of consideration. “Go back to training, Ingrid. I’ll be okay.” 

You were trying to be brave, Ingrid could tell. She allowed you this façade, and with both an encouraging smile and a promise that she’d come see you in a minute, she ran back to the pitch. Mapi led you inside, her arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. 

The physios were a tolerable experience, completely allowing Mapi to direct them. They didn’t touch you unless you agreed, each time asking before they made sure your lip was okay, or inspected a forming bruise. You very rarely got to see intense Mapi off the pitch, and it was interesting to see it now. When she spoke to the physios, asking question after question about your injuries, she was dead serious. When she turned to you, though, to shoot you an encouraging smile or squeeze your hand, she was back to being the Mapi you knew. 

She took care of you like you were her own. 

------

Upon returning home, Ingrid refused to let you retreat to your room and hide yourself away. You’d spent too long alone, when you’d first arrived. She was going to support you, and she intended to prove that. 

So, you laid on the couch, your head in your sister’s lap, a Norwegian sitcom playing on the TV. Ingrid was holding ice to one of your eyes, glaring down at you anytime you tried to remove the other ice laid across your knuckles. Mapi was making pancakes in the kitchen, at your request. Scout was on the floor next to the couch, though he picked his head up to check on you every few minutes. 

You were home, and you couldn’t help but compare today to the last time.

Ingrid had come to the school, and been furious at you. Today, she was furious for you. 

They’d left you that night, to go off to some team dinner. Now, you weren’t quite sure that Ingrid was going to let you out of her sight for at least a few days. 

You’d been alone, then, and now you weren’t. 

And though today had been pretty horrific, it was another little reminder of how different everything was. You loved those reminders, and you got them often. You tried to remember each one, how good it felt. To be loved, to be seen. To be liked. To be cared for. It was new, and it always surprised you a little. Every time something happened, and you remembered what it had been like to be alone, Ingrid and Mapi were there to remind you that you weren’t anymore. 

-

-

-

It was just one of those days. 

You wanted to stay home, like you wanted to on that day. Before, when everything in the house had been tense and you’d barely spoken to your sister. School had been difficult back then, not that it wasn’t now, but more difficult. Ingrid knew how much you were struggling, but assumed it was a lack of effort on your part. And so, when you quietly asked her if you could stay home because you weren’t feeling the best, Ingrid hadn’t believed you. 

“Ingrid, please. I really don’t feel well.” You begged, fighting back the tears that were pricking at your eyes, even though you knew that they would probably help your case. 

“How? What doesn’t feel well?” Ingrid asked, trying to be patient. Your hatred of school was starting to bother her. She didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just try a little harder. At your work, and at making friends. 

You floundered for a minute, not sure how to describe what you were feeling. You supposed the word was depressed, but there was no way you’d admit to that. Ingrid didn’t need to worry about you like you knew she would if she understood what was really going on. At the same time, you wished desperately that she would see through your excuses. 

You’d been silent for too long, and Ingrid sighed, zipping up her bag for training and walking over to you. She didn’t look sympathetic, exactly, but she didn’t look as harsh as she normally did. 

“I know school is hard. But skipping isn’t going to make anything better, okay? You just need to try a little harder.” She said, resting her hands on your shoulders and looking intently at your face. As usual, your expression gave very little away. All you gave her was a small shrug, before you picked your bag up with a sigh and headed for the car. 

You were trying your best. How couldn’t she see that?

It hit you similarly today, as it had on that day.

 You wanted to lay in your bed and not move. Your body was heavier than normal. Breathing was hard, moving was harder. All you could do was think. And think, and think, and think. It wasn’t sadness that you felt, not necessarily. It was exhaustion, and an almost numb ache. 

You were pretty sure Ingrid wouldn’t make you go to school if you told her the truth, you just weren’t really sure what to say. It was nearing the time you were supposed to leave for school, though, and you still hadn’t gotten out of bed. It would only be a matter of time before Mapi came in to see why you hadn’t left your room yet. So, you dragged yourself out of bed, your whole body feeling too heavy, and you walked downstairs. 

Ingrid was in the kitchen, eating breakfast while Mapi made all three of your coffees. Your sister turned to look at you, her good morning dying on her lips when she saw the look on your face. It must have been pretty bad, if Ingrid’s reaction was any indication. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Ingrid asked, abandoning her breakfast to walk closer and place her hand on your forehead, checking for a fever. 

“No.” You said honestly, trying to breathe through the panic that always accompanied honesty. Mapi joined Ingrid in front of you, her brow creased in concern. She couldn’t figure out from looking at you what was going on, you just looked… wrong. Unlike yourself. 

“Are you sick?” 

“No. I just… I don’t feel right.” 

“What do you mean, Sol? What’s wrong?” Mapi asked, nudging Ingrid’s hand off your forehead to replace it with her own. 

“I don’t know how to explain it. I just want to go back to sleep.” You mumbled, a single tear falling down your face.

“Try to explain it to me?” Ingrid requested. You knew it was a request, though, and that made it easier to answer her. Her worry for you was coming off her in waves, and though you were pretty sure it was warranted, you didn’t want her to panic. 

“It’s just a bad day. I’ll be okay.”  

 Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances, before your sister nodded slowly. You often described tough mental health days as simply  bad days. You didn’t like to be overly descriptive, or really admit what was going on, and that was the closest you’d get. 

“Okay, kjære. Go back up to bed.” 

“Thanks,” you muttered, moving to turn away. 

“Wait,” Mapi said, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you into a hug that was probably too tight, but felt nice all the same. Mapi’s hugs were always comforting, always made you feel safe. “You’ll be okay here by yourself?” 

You knew what she was asking, and you tried to speak clearly, even with your chin resting on the Spaniard’s shoulder. “I will, promise.” 

As soon as Mapi had released you, Ingrid was pressing a kiss to your forehead, a gesture that never really failed to make you emotional. You remember seeing your parents kiss her forehead when you were growing up. And while your parents never really did the same with you, Ingrid had. She was always willing to give you the love she was overflowing with, especially when you were sorely lacking it. 

“I love you, okay? Call me if you need me.” Ingrid said firmly, almost as if to reinforce how much she meant it. 

You agreed, promising yourself that you wouldn’t interrupt training. You knew they’d already be distracted by being worried about you, and you didn’t want to ruin their day anymore than you already were. 

The logical part of you knew this was ridiculous. It was getting easier and easier to identify unhealthy thoughts, but a part of you still believed them. Especially when you were already having a bad day. You didn’t want to be any more of a burden than you already were. 

You were the farthest thing from a burden for Ingrid and Mapi, but it was an almost insurmountable challenge to actually believe that. 

-------

You’d hoped, perhaps, that by resting right off the bat, you’d escape the worst of the depressive episode. This was a naive thought. Or maybe, you would have if you’d asked your sister to stay home with you. 

You really really didn’t want to be alone. It had been a while since you hadn’t felt safe around yourself, but here you were again. You thought you were done with this, over this. It was upsetting to realize that you weren’t, not completely. That this wasn’t something you could just… get over. It was a result of your brain chemistry as much as your lived experiences, and you could be smothered with all the love in the world. That wouldn’t fix the genuine problem inside your head. 

You were asleep when Ingrid got home. 

Her and Mapi weren’t expecting you to call them, even if you needed them, but they had texted you during a break and gotten no answer. Mapi tried not to speed home, but it was difficult when Ingrid was an anxious mess next to her in the passenger seat. 

Upon arriving home, Ingrid dumped her bag right in the entry hall, not bothering to put it away like she normally did, and went right up to your room, sighing in relief at the sight of you in front of her. Mapi was right behind her, melting a bit at the way Scout was perched on the end of your bed protectively, and Bagheera was curled up against your chest. Both of them were taking care of you, she was sure. Bagheera would get a treat and some extra pets, for sure. And Scout would too, but when no one was looking. She had a reputation to uphold, after all.

You awoke to the feeling of someone brushing their fingers through your hair. The reaction you had was different now than it had been a month ago, and Ingrid had done the same thing. Then, you’d startled awake, not used to the gentle touch. Now, you just shifted slightly, content to stay asleep as Ingrid settled on the bed next to you. 

You felt Scout get off the bed, and Mapi begrudgingly agree to take him on a walk. You knew she was faking her dislike of your dog at this point, but it was more fun to go along with it and catch her napping with Scout or giving him extra treats. 

It was only when the cat sneezed rather dramatically on your chest that you cracked an eye open, unimpressed with the lack of decorum from Bagheera. Ingrid was trying to stifle her laughter and you rolled your eyes, stretching and wiping the imaginary sneeze particles off your face. 

“Hi.” You murmured, voice rough with sleep… and with crying, but you were hoping to keep that to yourself. 

Ingrid smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the edges in the way they'd started to recently. It was something Mapi’s eyes did and while you weren’t sure how Ingrid had picked that up from her girlfriend, there was no question in your mind that she had. “Hi. How are you?” 

You shrugged, the momentary distractions from your feelings fading as everything came screeching back into focus. 

“Have you been crying?” Ingrid murmured, eyes stuck on the tear tracks staining your face. 

“A bit. I’m fine.” You replied, trying your best to shake off her concern. 

“You should have called me.” Your sister sighed. 

You shook your head, sitting up against the headboard. It was then that you noticed for the first time that your sister was still in her training kit, when normally she’d shower and change after a session. Her and Mapi must have rushed home. The thought sent a weird feeling through your body; not bad… just different. 

 “No, I was fine. You had training, you can’t miss that for no reason.” 

“There's not no reason. You were having a bad day, and you needed us. Why didn’t you call?”

You shrugged, but Ingrid continued to stare at you, awaiting an answer. “I didn’t want to make you choose between me and football.” you mumbled, picking at a hangnail and avoiding eye contact with your sister. She grabbed your hand though, and used her other hand to tilt your chin up until you were looking at her. 

“There is no choice, Solstråle. I will always come when you need me. It could be the middle of the champions league final, or the middle of training, and I would drop everything to get to you. So would María.” 

You grew teary, trying your best to not cry again. “Okay.” Your voice broke, and Ingrid felt like a piece of her heart went with it. 

“Sol, I mean it. You are more important than any football match or training could ever be. More important than anything else could ever be. You are the most important thing to me.” 

Your expression grew disbelieving, almost stunned. “I’m not worth all that,” 

Ingrid tried not to groan in frustration. It wouldn’t have been fair to make you think she was upset with you, when she was upset with your parents, and with herself. “You are! Solstråle, you are worth that and more.” 

You were getting better, definitely. But your self esteem was always something you struggled with, something you always probably would. No matter how convinced you were, now, that Ingrid and Mapi loved you and wanted you in Spain with them, you still couldn’t comprehend that you were important to them. 

“It just… it wasn’t like that before. I’m not used to this.”

Ingrid’s face fell. “I know. I know you aren’t. But I promise you, sweetheart, even before, even when we argued all the time and I was so hard on you. I cared then just as much as I do now. I just didn’t understand how to help you. But I do now, right? It’s better now?” 

A more confident nod from you. “A lot better.” 

Your sister smiled gently. “I know you’ve felt really alone these last few years. But you aren’t anymore, okay? I’m right here with you.” 

There was something behind her words that felt like a promise, but it wasn’t necessarily a promise you needed to hear. It was one Ingrid had already made through her actions. And through the flood of doubts and insecurities, you knew that she wouldn’t break that promise. 

In that moment, you hated how hard it was for you to be vulnerable. How difficult it was for you to put words to your feelings, and express your appreciation and love for your sister. All you could do was try, though, right?

“Ingrid?” You mumbled after a minute of silence. Ingrid hummed in acknowledgement, squeezing your hand. “You… everything you’ve done for me. You’re just… you’re my favorite person. And I love you.” 

Ingrid could have sobbed, truly. She, too, had struggled to share her feelings her whole life, as you had. She knew just how much it took for you to say something so sincere, and not even make a joke after it. The brunette pulled you in closer to her, leaving a kiss on the side of your head. 

“You know that, right?” You wondered, after Ingrid hadn’t responded right away. She was trying to keep the deep emotion out of her voice, not wanting to make this moment even more difficult for you than she knew it already was. When you turned to look at her, though, catching her just as a tear slid down your face, you understood. 

“I do know, Solstråle. And I love you, so much, min perfekte lillesøster.” 

It didn't really matter as much, that you didn’t think you were perfect. Because for as long as you could remember, Ingrid had been the perfect one. And now she thought you were, too, and that was enough. 

“You’re my favorite person, too.” Ingrid added as an afterthought, pulling you into an even tighter hug. “Just don’t tell-”

“AHEM.” Mapi cleared her throat from the doorway. You whipped your head to look at her, both of you breaking into a fit of giggles at the sight of the very disgruntled defender standing in the doorway. “Well, your not favorite person just came up here to say that she was going to go get you both ice cream, but now…”

It was rather difficult to stop laughing, what with Mapi standing there with her arms crossed, a frown on her face, one foot stomp away from throwing a temper tantrum. You and Ingrid pulled yourselves together, forcing serious expressions onto your faces. 

“Mapi, I was just trying to make Ingrid feel better about herself. You are my favorite. Of course.” 

“Me too, mi amor. You are my favorite.” Ingrid grinned, before very obviously winking at you. 

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Mapi turned on her heel and headed downstairs. “I am going to poison your ice cream.” She shouted over her shoulder. 

Mapi was far from upset. It was enough for her that you seemed a bit better, and that her girlfriend’s anxiety had definitely lessened. Although, the day had clearly taken its toll on you and Ingrid, because when Mapi arrived home with the ice cream, she found you both passed out in your bed, your head resting on your sister’s shoulder. 

-

-

-

You swore as you slipped in the small puddle of water on the kitchen floor, almost instantly losing your balance and falling with a thud. The mug you’d been holding fell, too, shattering on impact with the floor. You heard Ingrid call your name, evidently startled by the sound, and moved to sit up on instinct. Instead of putting your hand down on the cold floor, though, you smashed it right down into a pile of mug shards. 

“Jævel!” You shouted, almost jumping at the burst of pain and bringing your hand to your chest. It was bleeding heavily, and you gasped, startled by the amount of blood flowing out of your hand. “Ow, ow, ow,” you winced, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. 

“Sol? You okay?” Ingrid shouted from the top of the stairs. 

You tried to reply, but Mapi beat you to it, appearing in front of  you out of nowhere. “No, she cut her hand. Ven aquí! And bring a clean towel!” The Spaniard shouted, grabbing the broom from the closet and hastily sweeping the shards away from you so she could safely get closer. 

“I’m sorry, Mapi, I’m so sorry,” you said shakily, sure that you were about to be in trouble for not being more careful. The water spill was your fault in the first place, and then it was what you slipped on. Now, you’d broken one of their favorite mugs, and you were getting blood all over the kitchen. 

Mapi only had time to look at you, confused, before Ingrid came running into the room holding a hand towel from upstairs. 

“Jesus, Sol,” Ingrid murmured, crouching down next to where you were and reaching for your hand. You mistook her statement as one of frustration, and not one of worry, and flinched away from her in a way you hadn’t in a very long time. 

“I’m sorry Ingrid, I broke the mug,” you cried. 

Ingrid exchanged a look with her girlfriend, before turning back to you. There was blood all over your shirt, dripping down where your good hand cradled the injured one. Your face was frighteningly pale, and you looked completely terrified. Ingrid paused, though all she wanted to do was get some pressure on your hand, forcing herself to calm down a bit. She wasn’t sure why you were reacting the way you were, but she knew by now to take it seriously. 

“Don’t worry about the mug.” Ingrid said gently, holding her hand out again. “Let me see, Sol.” 

With a pained whimper, you placed your hand in hers. Only then did you look at the wound, and both Mapi and Ingrid watched in alarm as the remaining color drained from your face. 

Ingrid knew what was coming a second before it happened, hastily trying to cover your hand with the towel as you started to sway where you were sitting. “Fuck, she’s gonna pass out,” she warned, unable to catch you as she pressed the towel into your hand, trying to get the bleeding to stop. 

Mapi dropped to her knees just as your eyes rolled back into your head, and you fell limp into her arms. “Ingrid,” she cried, overcome with panic. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s just bad with blood.” Ingrid assured her. She pulled the towel away temporarily to look at your hand, and saw a long slice across your palm. It wasn’t deep, and though you might have nicked a vein, Ingrid was pretty sure you wouldn’t need stitches. Readjusting the towel over your hand, she tried to give her girlfriend a calming smile. “It’s really okay, María. I promise, she just really hates blood.” 

“She passed out!” Mapi yelped. “This does not feel okay!”

Ingrid bit back a laugh, knowing this wasn’t the time or the place. “She’ll wake up in a few minutes, just hold this towel while I get some water for her.” 

Mapi took over with the towel, allowing your head to drop into her lap as Ingrid walked across the kitchen. 

“Ingrid, do we have any smelling salts?” She wondered, poking your cheek a few times as your eyes remained firmly shut. 

“Why, yes, María, let me go check my potion making kit.” 

“I do not appreciate your sarcasm at the moment.” Mapi grumbled, again poking your face as your eyes started to scrunch together. You looked uncomfortable, and Mapi braced herself for you to wake back up and freak out again. Instead, you stayed unconscious for a few more seconds, unbeknownst to the Spaniard, reliving a memory you’d… kind of forgotten. 

When the picture frame shattered on the wood floor, all you felt was panic. It was panic that led you to lean down and try to collect the pieces of glass in your hands. A second, much quieter crash was heard as a piece of glass shifted in your hand, cutting your finger open. 

You’d never been good with blood, and you felt yourself getting lightheaded at just the sight of the small rivulets of blood forming across the cut. You shut your eyes tightly, all thoughts of being afraid of getting in trouble for breaking the picture frame flew out of your mind, and you were turning and shouting before you could stop yourself. 

“Mamma! Mamma!” You yelled, growing dizzier and dizzier. 

“Stop yelling, my goodness.” Mamma said, walking calmly into the room. She came to a sudden stop at the sight of the picture frame broken in front of you, before her face grew cold and mean. “What have you done!” 

“I-I- I bumped the table and it fell and I tried to clean it up, but my finger, Mamma,” you cried, missing the anger on your moms face and leaning towards her for comfort as she moved closer. 

“This is my favorite picture of your sister, couldn't you have been more careful! You are always breaking things, always making a mess. I am so tired of you and the stupid things you do when you don’t pay attention.” Mamma ranted, picking up the pieces of glass and making sure the picture was unharmed. “I should be the one crying, you broke my picture frame!” 

Your stomach twisted at her tone, and at the drops of blood that were hitting the floor at your feet. You tried to fight it, knowing it would only make her more upset, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Keeling over, you threw up on the ground, whimpering as your mother gasped in surprise. 

“What-”

“Mamma, my finger,” you sobbed, holding out the bloodied appendage towards your mother. 

Some of the confusion left your Mamma’s eyes, knowing just how poorly you handled any kind of injury, on anyone. 

“Oh, goodness. Come with me.” She said, not completely unkindly as she led you into the kitchen. There, she wrapped your finger up with a dish towel, holding pressure on it as you sniffled and hiccuped. She brushed a few flyaways out of your face, your hair always coming loose no matter how tight Ingrid braided it. 

At the kind gesture, you relaxed a bit. Maybe she wasn’t as mad anymore. Cautiously, you allowed yourself to step in closer to her. “Hurts, Mamma.” 

Some emotion, of what you weren’t sure, flashed across the older woman’s face and she sighed. “You’ll be fine. It is just a little cut. It is just a little blood, kjære. You are 8 years old. And 8 years old is too big to be getting this worked up over a small cut.” 

“Sorry, Mamma.” You mumbled, scrubbing at your eyes with your good hand. You took a few deep breaths, trying to stop crying even as pain burned through your finger, and all you wanted was a hug. 

“Alright, no more blood, see? Now go get a bandaid while I clean up your mess.” 

“Okay, Mamma.” 

She sent you off with a kiss on the top of your head, but as you climbed the stairs, you heard the garage door open. That meant Ingrid was home. You knew she’d had a long day, but you couldn’t help the way your body sagged in relief now that she was home. Now that you’d get a hug. 

That was, until you heard Mamma’s voice addressing your sister downstairs, as you rifled through the bandaid box, looking for a yellow one. 

“Look what your sister did.” Mamma sighed. She sounded so disappointed, and you promised yourself to do better. Next time, you wouldn’t throw up. And you would clean up the mess all by yourself. Then, Mamma would be proud of you. Then, maybe she’d give you a hug.

When you came to, Mapi’s face was hovering ridiculously close to yours, and you jolted away from her. 

“Sol! You’re awake!” 

You tried to sit up, just as Ingrid’s voice rang from across the room. “Do not let her sit up yet, she’ll only make herself more dizzy.” 

Mapi’s hands pushed your shoulders back to the ground and you frowned, seeing Ingrid appear above you holding the broom. 

“No, Ingrid, I’ll clean it up,” you said weakly, even as your stomach turned at the sight of a bloody rag in your sister’s hand. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ingrid dismissed. “You stay right there until you feel better.” 

Ingrid cleaned up the ceramic shards, and you wondered just how upset she’d be that you’d broken the mug. It was her and Mapi’s favorite. They had made it together in some pottery class, and they often fought over who got to use it in the morning for coffee. And you’d gone and broken it. Ingrid didn’t seem mad yet, but she would be… right?

 After a few minutes of Mapi gently combing through your hair, she finally helped you sit up. Your sister appeared in front of you once again, first aid kit in hand, and sat down on the ground.  She moved slowly as she reached for your hand, trying not to startle you. You held it out to her, leaning against Mapi and inhaling shakily. 

“I looked when you were out, I don’t think you need stitches.” Your sister assured you, pausing when you only gave a short nod. “You okay? Do you feel sick?” 

You shook your head firmly, clenching your jaw shut tight. Ingrid still didn’t unwrap the towel from your palm, still focused on the uneven way you were breathing, and the slightly green tint to your face.  

Mapi rubbed her hand up and down your back comfortingly, exchanging a look with your sister. “It’s okay if you feel sick, Sol. Just tell me and we can get you a bag or something.”

“No. I’m fine. I don’t get sick when I see blood anymore.” You said, sounding almost angry. 

Since when? Ingrid thought. Still, she got to work disinfecting your hand and cleaning it up. Once she’d wrapped a large bandage around it, having tried her best to ignore the way your good hand was clenched into a fist so tight it looked painful. 

Once your sister was done, she helped you to your feet, holding her arms open for a hug. You looked between her and Mapi suspiciously, a frown set on your face. “You’re… not mad?” 

“Why would we be mad?” Ingrid wondered, leading you into the living room, having decided to make you rest on the sofa for a while until you looked less ill. 

You followed her lead, albeit still sounding very confused. “Because… I made a mess. And I didn’t clean it up. And I broke your favorite mug.” 

Ingrid couldn’t figure out what you were so worked up about. “It wasn’t on purpose, Sol. And you were hurt, why would you clean it up?” 

“I should have been more careful. And it was my mess. I should have… I should have cleaned it up.” 

It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself of something, a somewhat vacant expression on your face. Ingrid had the familiar sinking feeling in her stomach. It was the one that appeared whenever your sister discovered another piece of the puzzle; the puzzle of why you were the way you were, why you’d left Norway. Most of the time, the pieces were intrinsically linked to your mother. And Ingrid really hated that. 

So, she wasn’t quite sure what the specific issue in this situation was. But she knew you well enough to know what would make you feel better. Taking a seat on the couch next to you, your sister brought you into a tight hug, feeling the way you froze at first, before melting into her. 

“I don’t care about the mess.” She promised, before she leaned back, her expression contradicting her words slightly as she took in the blood on your shirt. 

You smiled weakly at her, not quite sure you believed her words. “I’ll go change-”

“No!” Ingrid interrupted. “I’ll go get you a new shirt, yeah? You just stay here.”  

With that, your sister took off up the stairs, and you were left in deep thought on the couch. Mapi took Ingrid’s spot pretty quickly, handing you a glass of water to sip from as she studied your expression. 

Mapi nudged you with her knee. “What are you thinking about?” 

“I broke a picture frame once. It was of Ingrid and Mamma, and the picture was completely fine but the glass broke and I cut my finger on it. But my mom was really mad about the mess. She said she was tired of me and the messes I made. I just… thought you’d be upset. It was your guys’ favorite mug. I thought you’d be mad.” 

Understanding dawned across Mapi’s face and she scooted closer, until her shoulder pressed to yours. “I don’t care about the mug. And neither does your sister. We’re both just glad you’re okay, that’s all we care about.” 

“Really?” You asked in a small voice. 

“Sol, you could break everything in this house, crash my motorbike, and ruin my favorite sweatshirt. And I’d still want you here. I’d still love you, nena.” Mapi assured you, not a single trace of doubt detectable in her voice. 

You looked away from her, the eye contact combined with her words proving to be too much. “I love you too.” You choked out, still looking away from Mapi, but leaning closer into her. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“How could you not? I am the best.” Mapi said seriously. 

And then the tears in your eyes were forgotten as you laughed, always shocked at Mapi’s ability to take your mind off something emotional. Always shocked, but always so grateful. 

When Ingrid reentered the room with one of her shirts in hand, it was to find you and María in absolute hysterics on the couch, your hand and whatever had upset you so greatly before completely forgotten. 

She’d thought she loved Mapi as much as a person could love another person, before you’d arrived in Spain. And then she’d picked you up from the airport, a shell of yourself, angry and hostile. And she’d watched Mapi chip away at all the anger and all the sadness. She’d watched as you became you again, with Mapi’s help.

Ingrid wasn’t stupid. She knew she’d helped you, too. But you were her sister. Mapi had no obligation to you, yet… here she was. 

And Ingrid realized that her love for María Pilar León Cebrián had grown exponentially in the past few months. Because she’d gotten to see Mapi grow to love you. Her favorite person in the world. It was so much love, she thought some days that her heart might burst.  

Ingrid hated the process of getting you here, and of everything that had happened for you that had been so incredibly difficult. But she couldn’t pretend she didn’t love the family she got as a result. 

------

hahahaHAHAHA IM FINE im FINE

i love sol.

ps. please tell me if you see any typos okay goodnight

[bigification]

Spiked

Friday,

I feel strong, but these protein shakes haven't been helping my bulk as much as I want. I'm still too skinny. Maybe I should give them more time though, I've only been taking them for a couple weeks after all. I'll try bumping it up to two a day, and I'll eat more, that should help.

I pick up my phone as I leave the gym and stare at the Grindr app. Should I? Is it fair to Dean that I keep bringing back guys to our place. This would be the fourth time this week, I think I can hold off for his sake. Anyway, I put away my phone and head back to my apartment.

"How was the workout?" Dean asked when I got home. I'm shocked, he's never really been interested in my workouts before. We used to go together before we were roommates but now that we live together, the gym is a rare activity we do apart. Besides, he hasn't really been going that much recently.

"Oh, it was good... I'm just not bulking as much as I want to." I reply.

"That must be why you got those protein shakes, huh?"

Why is he taking so much notice of this stuff now? We can share the shakes if he really wants to, he might just be trying to motivate himself to get back in the gym. But he could just ask if that's what he wants. "Ya, I'm gonna try to drink more, maybe that'll help." I say as I go to the fridge and grab one.

"That's good." Dean says in a flat tone, he usually does this when he's lost interest in a conversation.

I get distracted from the conversation anyway as I drink the shake. Something seems different about it, it's got a bit of a bitter aftertaste now. I figure it's probably just me getting tired of the taste and shrug it off.

Saturday,

I wake up in a cold sweat. This was unusual given that I get up every day at this time to go to the gym. I look to the clock and it's... 10 o'clock. Holy shit, I slept in. I'm usually at the gym by 8. I calm down a bit when I remember it's Saturday, so I have nothing to do anyway.

I roll out of bed and hobble my way to the bathroom. My head is spinning and my stomach is growling, I felt hungover. I didn't drink last night did I? I don't really remember. However, all of that leaves my mind in an instant when I look in the mirror. I rub my eyes and look again. Where do I even begin. An itchy beard now covers my face, despite the fact that I shaved yesterday morning. My sweat glistened on my distended stomach, my six pack buried under a soft bloat. My pecs are swollen and slightly rounded.

What the fuck. My mind is trying to process what's happening, but it can't. I turn to the side and see the subtle S shape in my stomach and my ass. Was it the shake? It couldn't have been, it hasn't done shit for me in weeks and now it does this! You know what, this is fine. I pinch my stomach. It's mostly bloated, just a small layer of fat, nothing I can't work off in a couple weeks. If anything this will give me a head start on my bulk.

I throw on some of my loose gym clothes that do a decent job at hiding my physique, but I still look different. I grab my gym back and try to sneak out, I don't want Dean seeing me like this. I quickly try to rush out the door, but I stop dead in my tracks when I hear Dean.

"I didn't know you were still home, you usually leave before I get up." He says nonchalantly.

"Oh ya... I just decided to sleep in today." I pull my bag to cover my stomach.

"Okay, have fun at the gym. Nice beard by the way, when did you decide to grow it out."

"I've just been a bit lazy with shaving it, that's all." I'm sweating buckets.

"Well it looks good, you should keep it." He smiles at me.

I can feel myself blush, so I smile and get out as quickly as possible. I chug a protein shake on the way to the gym, noting that bitter aftertaste again. It's probably nothing, I have bigger issues to deal with.

Once I start my workout, I feel pretty self conscious about my body. I know no one else could know that something is off, but I still feel off. But as the workout goes on, I start feeling more and more comfortable. I start hitting more reps than I ever have before, though cardio is a bit of a slog. It doesn't matter, I feel surprisingly great. I finish off the workout great, and flex in the mirror for a bit of a confidence boost.

I drink another shake on the way home. As I get home, Dean seems to be waiting for me. He asks how my workout was again. He's acting so weird again. I decide to spend the rest of the day out, drinking the night away. I am bulking after all.

Sunday,

I wake up feeling like I got hit by a truck, with no memory of how much I drank last night. I've never felt like this after a night out though. The more I think about it, the more my mind points me to the shakes. They have to have something to do with this. I don't have time for this right now though, I have to get to the gym.

I brush my teeth and shave, I'm shocked at the beard I grew in just two days. I try throwing on some clothes, but I feel some resistance. My largest gym shirt no longer fits, there's always a sliver of skin showing and it goes past my belly button when I reach up. My shorts fit a bit better, but they hug my ass very tight. I think I'll have to buy some new clothes on the way home.

The workout goes similarly to yesterday. I start self conscious of the fact that my belly is showing and my shorts look like they're about to rip. But the worry escapes my mind when I destroy my routine. I feel so strong.

I feel great by the time my workout ends. I head to the locker room and take off my shirt. Yeesh, I have a full on beer belly now. This is no longer just a bloat, my stomach is covered in a thick layer of fat. I didn't even know you could gain this much fat in only a couple of days, and I'm not even eating that much. And what's with the beard, I shaved this morning and it's already coming back in. Although my arms are looking massive, I could even feel my sleeves stretch from my biceps when I was working out. I stare at my belly a bit as I think about what to do.

I throw on my shirt again and head out. I pull up to a clothing store and pick out a few loose gym clothes that should fit me if I bulk even more.

"Hi, where are the change rooms." I ask an employee.

"Oh.." he pauses for a moment, looking at my belly. I notice that my shirt is riding up more than it was this morning. I instinctively cover my exposed belly with my arms and shrivel up in embarrassment.

"Just over there sir." He awkwardly points to the back of the store.

I grab a few larger clothes on the way out and leave the store as fast as humanly possible. I instinctively down another shake on the way home. Dean didn't say anything to me when I got home, but he glanced at me and then looked away. He is acting so strange.

I woke up in the middle of the night, there was a rattling coming from the kitchen. I walk out to investigate and see Dean doing something with the protein shakes. Is he secretly drinking them at night? He could just ask and I would give some to him. But I see him pour something into the shake and then close it back up again before putting them back in the fridge. What the hell? I try to think of what he could be doing. He stashes something away in the bottom of the cupboard and starts walking back to his bedroom. I quickly hide in my room until I hear his door close, and then I go back to the kitchen to investigate. I look at the protein shakes in the fridge and notice their seals have been broken, I can't believe I never noticed that. I move over to the cupboard and find a small bag with white powder in it. It looks like coke, but why the fuck would Dean put coke in my shakes. And besides, I don't think fat, muscle, and hair growth are symptoms of coke. Maybe I'll give him a taste of his own medicine. I go back to the fridge and pull out the jug of orange juice that Dean drinks every morning. I have no idea how much he put in my shakes, so I just pour a bunch in. I kind of feel like a secret agent, sneaking in a mysterious powder into his drink. I would feel worse, but he already did this to me so I'm fine ignoring my morals this time.

I head to bed, lying awake in my bed for a while. Thinking about what I just did, thinking about the results. It's making it hard to fall asleep, but I eventually do.

Monday,

I wake up feeling better than I had the past few days. I go through my normal routine, throw on my gym clothes, and grab a bite to eat. When I open the fridge, i see the orange juice and protein shakes and I'm reminded of my situation. Every morning I get a few moments of blissful ignorance before it's ripped away. I think for a bit, then grab a couple shakes and put in my bag. I'm kinda liking this new me, the strong me, and the belly is definitely growing on me. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I head out, I'm really committing to this aren't I? I ask myself as I look at the bushy beard that has engulfed my face and the belly and moobs that are unmistakable under my shirt. I smile and then head to the gym.

Every day that I spend at the gym, I get less self conscious. I almost forget about the fact that my hairy gut I exposed to the world whenever I reach up. I only care about the fact that I have been increasing the weight on my workouts every day and it feels amazing.

I take a shower and get dressed for work... Oh shit. I never bought work clothes that fit me, I'm reminded when I try in vain to button up my dress shirt. I stop by the store again and grab a couple shirts and pairs of pants. The thought of the protein shake in my car makes me think of the future, so I buy a few clothes in larger sizes too.

I barely make it to work on time. The day went by fast, but all I could remember were the stares and the comments from coworkers. "You forget to shave this morning Santa?" "Might want to lay off the doughnuts in the break room buddy." "We're concerned about your health." "Did you forget to stop bulking?" That was all I heard today. It was embarrassing at first, but it soon turned to encouraging. Each sly comment just makes me want to grow more. It honestly makes me realize how much I'm enjoying growing, and makes me even more excited to see what happens to Dean. It was hard to keep my dick in my pants today, I think the only reason no one noticed was because they were too busy staring at my gut.

I make it back home after work and dress down to my underwear first thing. Damn I am getting hairy, I run my hands through the forest of hair that has grown all over my body. As I'm doing so, an amazing idea runs through my mind. I'm gonna surprise Dean. There's no way I can hide the changes in my body regardless of how baggy my clothes are, so I'm just gonna show it off. I lay down on the couch by the front door, still only in my underwear, and I wait for him to show up.

"I'm hom- Oh hey..." Dean stutters as he sees me.

"Hey bud, what's up." I say nonchalantly.

"Just tired from work, where are your clothes?"

"I had a crazy workout today, just figured I'd air out a bit. Ever since I started this bulk, things have really taken off for me at the gym." I say while I rub my gut. In trying my best to make him uncomfortable and it seems to be working.

"Okay, well if you need me I'll be in my room." He quickly scurries into his room.

I just chuckle to myself and continue rubbing my belly. I wonder if there's any leftovers in the fridge?

Tuesday,

Same old same old. Get out of bed, get dressed, shave, grab a shake and head to the gym.

I feel so imposing at the gym now. I think I've gotten taller, because I look down on almost every now. I have a beard and a deeper voice than I used to, and not to mention the big gut and strong biceps. I'm like the biggest guy here, and people treat me like it. Women and men stare, and people tend to let me use the machines I want. I also notice myself grunting when I work out, I wonder if the entire gym can hear it. Anyway, the point is I feel amazing. This is the first day I dropped cardio because who fucking needs it, I sure don't. Now I focus purely on mass gain. I'm tired of holding back and I don't care what other people think, I want more.

I arrived at work, rocking far more confidence than I did yesterday, and people noticed. I don't care if they stare or comment, and I don't care that my dress shirt is already too small for me. People even asked me how I gained as much muscle as it did that fast. I just tell them to eat a shit ton and drink protein shakes, but maybe once the jig is up with Dean I'll ask him how to get the powder. I certainly wouldn't mind seeing some of the men at work blow up like I did. This is not the time to think about it though, it's getting hard to hide my boner at work. The only thing hiding it when I sit down is my gut.

I get home and notice Dean is home too. He must have stayed home, I wonder if it's because of the powder. He won't seem to leave his room though, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow to see the results.

I just decide to change into some comfortable clothes and eat my heart out. Though I'm shocked at how small my once 'baggy' clothes are. They barely fit past my stomach, and they ride up past my belly button when I lift my arms.

Fuck I'm getting fat. There is nothing hotter to me right now than the thought of my body growing. I make my way to the kitchen and grab a few more shakes and start chugging, feeling my dick harden with each gulp. I feel like a fucking pig, what has come over me. The shake is dribbling down my beard and onto my shirt, but I can't stop. Once I've had enough protein shakes for a lifetime, I stumble to my room and promptly fall asleep.

Wednesday,

I wake up in a pool of sweat, similar to a couple days ago. My mouth tastes awful and my body feels heavy. I question what happened last night as I roll myself out of bed. I drag myself to the bathroom and freeze in shock at my image in the mirror. Holy shit. I pull up my shirt to see a massive ball belly, covered in a thick layer of hair. I pull my shirt up further and see a pair of soft man tits that now lay on my gut. Every part of my body looks swollen, my arms, my hands, even my face looks puffy.

I let out a loud burp that reeks of protein shake, and suddenly I remember last. I walk to the kitchen and see six empty protein shakes on the table. I chuckle in a surprisingly deep voice before opening the fridge and grabbing a shake. I down it before getting ready to head to the gym. I put on my largest gym shirt and it only reaches halfway around my gut, I try to put on my shorts but I can't get them to cover the top of my ass crack. That's alright, I don't particularly care if anyone sees, it's their fault for looking.

I spend the day at the gym enjoying all the attention from shocked gym goers. They watch in amazement or contempt as this fatass walks around like he owns the gym.

I go to work with a similar energy, though I do have a dress shirt that still barely fits me so at least I'm not half naked going to work. My clothes still leave little to my coworkers imaginations, as I confidently strut my fatass around the office.

I get home and stand in shock as I walk through the door. Is that Dean!? Across the living room stands a morbidly obese man wearing nothing but boots, a baseball cap, and a ripped towel around his waist.

"You did this to me!" The man yells in a gruff southern accent.

"Dean, is that you?" I respond.

"Yea, you dumbass! You gave me some of that powder didn't ya." He turns to face me and reveals the damage the powder did to his body.

"Hey you did it to me first! I was only returning the favour."

"I only put I bit into your shakes, how much did'ya give me!? Look what it's done to me!" He grabs a handful of the fat on his belly, and it jiggles like jello.

"Well I didn't know how much to give you."

"And you're only s'posed to take it when you're workin out, otherwise it only grows fat and not muscle. Beside, why d'ya keep drinking it after you knew?" He asks

"Because I like me this way, it just felt good to get revenge. Why did you even do it in the first place?" I ask in return.

"Because I thought if you got fat you'd stop hooking up with so many guys, and you'd notice me. It was only s'posed to be a bit, but then you started drinkin the shakes like crazy and now look at ya." He responds in a genuine voice. I don't know what to say, so I stand silent. He grabs his phone and approaches me. "This is what I looked like 2 days ago!" He shows me a picture of himself. "I was so happy that I could finally grow a beard. Little did I know why."

"This is what I looked like yesterday." He shows me another photo. "My hair was falling out and my hairline was receding. I woke up looking like I was pregnant, and my pants couldn't fit anymore."

"I was so scared that I ate some of that powder, but I didn't know what to do, so I stayed in my room all day and drank nothing but orange juice. Then I woke up this morning as a bald 350 pound man. That's when I knew you put that powder in my orange juice." He seems frantic.

I didn't know what to do, so I grabbed him and kissed him. "I never realized how hot your accent is until now." I say as I pull away from the kiss, he smiles in return. In the moment, another terribly amazing idea comes to my head. I grab the bag of powder he had left on the table and pour some of the powder into his mouth before snorting some myself. He looks at me in shock for a moment before swallowing it. I smile before dragging his fatass to my tiny king sized bed.

Then next Monday,

I just hit 300 today. I still go to the gym everyday, so that keeps my gut from growing out of control. Though I have had some interesting conversations with my family since. But the shocked faces of my family when they see me and their concerned comments if my weight gain only fuels the fire. Though my dad seems to be the only one who says he likes the new me, says I look manlier. It's funny coming from the next fattest man in the family, only behind me of course.

The scale stopped working on Dean after last Thursday, but he has to be pushing 500. I really gave him an insane dose of that powder, and the more fat he got the less capable he was to workout and thus reduce the fat gained. He just sits around and pigs out all day now, and I wouldn't want him any other way. I usually bring home a few meals from a couple fast food restaurants for his first dinner, and when I feel up to it, I'll add a little bit of powder to his meal.

I'm also enjoying work far more. I told all the men at my work about the powder, and within a few days I was seeing results. Some became as fat as Dean by the end of the week, clearly they neglected the part where it said to workout while consuming the powder. Some look like me, with big arms and an even bigger belly. And some have just become muscle beasts, almost like they spent hours a day at the gym. I also feel more imposing at work, people respect me more, even if half of them are bigger than me now. It even helped me get a raise, which funds all of the fast food trips for Dean and I. One day I hope to be the big boss with a silver bushy beard and hulking gut that spills out of my suit.

[deanwastherealmonster]

LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK

The actual irony of this scene is Dean blaming Cas for everything that goes wrong in his life when he is the one sole reason that Cas has lost everything

Cas lost his family in heaven, his wings, his powers his home. He has lost every friend outside the Winchester's because they end up sacrificing for the Winchesters. He has lost his life on multiple occasions, lost his son twice, lost his self worth but yet its Dean who gets to say Cas is the reason everything goes wrong for him when time after time it being Cas who has saved him and his brothers life.

Writers give Cas a little self respect back by allowing him to walk away from Dean. Then rip it away by having him accept Dean's Bs prayer where Dean doesn't even apologise for anything just forgives Cas for Cas doing nothing wrong and being a good father to his son.

And the writers still think its a good ending for a character who is depressed, and suicidal to die sacrificing himself for the person who was the sole reason for him to be depressed and suicidal.

[rubyvhs]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ dean winchester liking someone tough…

gn!reader, masterlist

dean winchester meeting you and he just can’t get through to you. sammy accepts dean’s love easily and the gestures and his sweet words (if he ever gives them), you don’t accept a cup of coffee unless you pay him back and it gets on his nerves. 

you hunt one time with them— total accident, and he just thinks, wow, most gorgeous person he’s ever see — and you’re asking sam if his brother has issues because he’s been staring & you don’t wanna bring it up.

sam kinda laughs, dean kinda wants to throw himself out on the highway. sam assures you his brother just likes you, you scoff and walk away— dean wishes he could burn his eyes out. being rejected is one thing, being treated like that? totally other thing he’s never dealt with and is not ready to deal with.

the rest of the case is fine and thankfully, you’re a research kind of hunter so you spend most of it with sam. he’d think with all that… whatever you’ve been doing, you’re more hands on. (whatever you’ve been doing being not flirting with him, what’s wrong with you?)

“sammy, they give you their number?” he asks when they get in the impala to head back to the bunker and his little asshole of a brother nods. nods like it’s so damn casual. it isn’t. you didn’t offer dean your number.

so he shrugs it off but he knows it’s not over. sam does too, unfortunately, but he can’t focus on his embarrassment for now. he heard you saying something about visiting a city when you’re done with the hunt so this man spends hours looking for cities that start with the letter ‘g’ that might be anywhere near the vicinity of pennsylvania. he finds a few, tosses a coin, does some research, and great, a couple of hearts went missing a few towns over from where you’re staying.

he rushes sam out of the bunker two weeks later and on the drive to god knows where with the werewolf problem, he stops at a motel.

“you— you need to stop? are you serious?”

“a man needs his rest, sam.”

“not you.” dean shrugs like he’s not shocking his brother to next week and they set up in a motel for the night. he finishes brushing his teeth before making a noise like he just had an idea. 

“sammy, remember the hunter from the wendigo case?”

“…yeah it’s only been two weeks dean. you remember their name.”

“sure. whatever. we should call them, right? we’re close by.”

“how would you know—”

“i just do—”

“dean just call them yourself, man. i have their number in my cell.”

“no no, they gave it to you.”

“yeah, ‘cause you were in the car. just call them—”

“fine! god, you’re annoying.” and he slams the bathroom door so sam doesn’t see the sweat running down his face. he’s not scared— okay maybe a little intimidated, but you’re so… put together and you know what you want and if you didn’t give dean your number then surely you meant to do it, right?

when he’s out of the bathroom he uses sam’s phone to call you. it’s an honest accident. in his hurry to not back out, he forgot to switch phones. “hello.” your voice comes through when the call connects and he’s thinking of— “sam? you there?”

“h—hey. yeah, no, not sam.” he clears his throat and he hears you laugh and he thinks his heart melts.

“dean? hey, how are you?”

“great, ‘m good. just, we were, y’know, workin’ on a case nearby—”

“near where?”

“where you are, and i thought i’d call, ask if you wanna join us.”

“sure. but where’s that again?”

“geneva.”

“dean, i’m not anywhere near geneva.”

“what? but you said—”

“i said genesee.” he shuts his eyes aggressively, panicking, trying to think of what to say. “but it’s— i didn’t know you listened.”

“yeah apparently i didn’t do it well enough.”

“‘s fine, i can be there in a few days if y’all are still having trouble with it.” he perks up, sighing in relief.

“yeah, yeah, that sounds good, we’re on our way so it could take us a day or so.” and when you promise him you’ll call in a few days he can’t help but hang up with a smile on his face. and a middle finger thrown to the grinning sam in the corner.

he tells sam that he wants the day off when he wakes up and sam’s thisclose to calling everyone he knows to ask where the real dean is. but he already gets it. dean likes you, he doesn’t want to finish the hunt early in hopes that you’ll join them again and honestly sam looked at the facts and the werewolf is as much of a threat as a vacuum cleaner.

seeing as he’s frickin locked up in jail like any normal murderer. not that they know he’s not normal— the point is, sam saw that and gaped at dean like he was crazy. he drove them six hours (there still four more to go) for a werewolf that’s already locked up and if he hasn’t escaped yet then it’s because he’s stupid enough to stay locked. they don’t need to go kill him.

but dean insists and sam kind of doesn’t mind the vacation from the stuffy bunker. dean enjoys the day, eats, looks around, makes sure they’re not needed and they spend another night before heading out. when you meet up with them another day later sam notices dean’s shaved two days early and he combed his hair. his brother, dean winchester, combed his hair.

“hey,” dean greets you with a wave and you move in to hug sam first then him. deans surprised, not taking you for the type, but it seems he’s been very misinformed about you.

“so, what’s up? i didn’t actually get to read anything on my way here.”

“oh, it’s—” sam’s about to tell you it’s nothing, the guys locked up but dean cuts him off.

“we should get breakfast first, we’ll talk about it then?” you nod, ready to get back in your car when dean speaks up, “we could drive you. it’d be easier if we’re all in one car.”

when you decline his offer, saying you can’t go anywhere without your girl, he thinks he just fell in love. he’s blushing out of both embarrassment at the rejection and the adoring look he knows is painting his face at hearing how much you care about your car.

at the diner you’re about to order before dean groans, slamming his hand on his thigh and tsk’ing, making you frown across from him. “they locked him up. the guys locked up, looks like he wasn’t much of a threat.”

sam barely holds his laugh in. that’s why he didn’t want him telling you? he’s lying his way to a date with you? sam can’t wait to see it go down.

“oh. that sucks, we came all the way here for nothing. i can take care of it, i know you guys have been on the road longer, lebanons a long way from here.”

dean shakes his head quickly. “nah, we’ll go, you just got here today.” you tilt your head in confusion.

“you’ve been here for more than a day? and you didn’t find out he’s been arrested?”

dean’s eyes narrow like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. he’s about to ask for clarification before the waitress comes and he thanks the heavens above. strictly looks at his menu while speaking to her so she doesn’t get the wrong idea like he eh us usually do, and ignores sam the entire time he’s asking you about anything and everything.

halfway through you notice you’re mostly talking and ask sam some things, he happily replies through gritted teeth since dean is kicking him under the table.

after breakfast you thank them and you’re about to get back in your car, since there’s clearly no case here, before you turn around. “dean?”

he hums in response, and sam takes it as his cue to scream into the impala, you walk over to dean, both hands on his biceps, “how about next time you just ask me out? you didn’t need to drive all this way.”

dean blushing is the understatement of the century as you slap his chest twice and walk away. he memorized your plates.

idk what this is but yay! it’s done! hopefully it pulls me out of my block because i can’t write anything good for the life of me.

also guys ugh i wish i could describe it better and if you have any ideas tell me but the narrowing his eyes thing was me trying to describe the look he gave jody when she was talking about sex and ‘wha’ face SO CUTE

[wraithlafitte]

you're no femme fatale

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: use of y/n, dubcon (mission sequence), soft dom!reader, guided masturbation, light degradation (m!receiving), stripping, begging, scratching, hair pulling, handjob, exhibitionism if you squint

word count: 3.3k

a/n: anon request here! enjoy 🖤 honestly felt like i was scraping the bottom of the barrel to keep this interesting LOL hope it's what you wanted

"No. No way in hell I'm doing that," you said, throwing up your hands and backing away from the table, littered with piles of Sam's research.

"Aw, come on, Y/N," Sam protested. "You're the only one of us that could do it."

"I am not entertaining some dirty old man for this," you snapped, snatching up a museum scan of the artifact you were supposed to steal. "We'll find another way."

"If there was another way, I'd be asking you to do that," Sam said, furrowing his brow. "This is the path of least resistance. You get in his office, slip it into your dress while he's not looking, and we'll come get you after ten minutes. That's it."

You huffed a sigh and crossed your arms.

Just then, Dean returned from his fast food run, greasy paper bags in hand. "Hey, nerds," he greeted impishly. "Grub's on."

You rolled your eyes as he plopped the bags right in the middle of Sam's papers.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Dean asked, settling himself into a chair and unwrapping a double cheeseburger.

"You would know if you had stayed to help make it," you replied annoyedly.

Dean flicked his eyebrows. "No need to get testy."

Sam sighed, deciding to intervene before things got ugly. You and Dean weren't exactly known for getting along, tolerating each other just enough to get jobs done when you had to. This was mostly due to the fact that you thought Dean was a douchebag, and he just dished back whatever you threw at him.

"The best plan we've got so far is that Y/N seduces the guy," Sam explained.

Dean snorted, almost spitting out his too-large bite of burger. "I'm sorry what?"

"I figure we'll never be able to get in there during the event, since it'll be so locked down," Sam continued. "Our best bet is getting him to let one of us in."

"Have you seen her?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and giving you a once-over. "Not exactly the seducing type."

You looked down at your current outfit. Cargo pants and a mens t-shirt topped with a utility vest and a leather bomber jacket. He had a point, although not for the reasons he thought. You could dress up, you just chose to dress practically. More pockets for knives. No, you just weren't sure you'd be able to convince the man you wanted him. Seventy-something sleazebags weren't exactly high on your to-fuck list.

"For once, I agree with Dean." You tossed the photo back onto the table. "Can we think of something else, please?"

"Yeah, as much as I'd like to see her try and pretty up to get in some old dude's pants, there's gotta be a more surefire way," Dean said with his mouth full. "Cuz you're no femme fatale," he added pointedly.

You were getting a little annoyed at his jabs. "You don't think I can do it?" you asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"Sister, I don't think you could seduce a virgin," Dean scoffed.

You turned to Sam, bristling. "That's it then. I'll do it."

"What?" Dean said loudly through his half-chewed bite.

Sam looked at you with concern. "Are you sure? Just because Dean-"

"I'm sure." You set your jaw confidently. "Let's go to the charity event."

"We're heading out to the car," Sam called through the bathroom door, where you were putting on the finishing touches to your makeup.

"Be right there," you called back, surveying yourself in the mirror. Not bad, you thought, considering the last time you put on this much makeup was prom night. You had tried to go for something an old man would like: a classic red lip and smoky eye that paired pretty well with the vintage-looking slinky black satin dress you'd found at the thrift store around the corner. It went down to your ankles, showing off your heels, and had a long slit that made its way up your leg to your hip.

You threw your coat on and hurried out the door, hopping into the backseat of the Impala. Sam glanced at you in the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrows appreciatively, but Dean didn't spare you a second glance. You were annoyed, since half the reason you were doing this was to prove him wrong, but there would be plenty of time to show off later.

As the Impala peeled out of the hotel parking lot, you took a deep swig from the flask you kept in your coat pocket. This better work.

Neither of the boys helped you out of the car when you arrived.

"Chivalry is dead," you announced after almost stumbling onto your face getting out. You tossed your coat back into the backseat, revealing your outfit to the two hunters.

Suddenly Sam was all-too-eager to offer you his arm, and the two of you headed inside, Dean close behind. You hadn't missed the way his eyes widened when you dropped your coat, so you swung your hips a little as you walked. That'll show him.

The plan worked better than you could have hoped. The sleazy old something-inaire led you to his office, hand wrapped around your waist as you clung to his arm, pretending to laugh at his stupid sexist old man jokes.

As he clicked the heavy oak door shut, you quickly scanned the room, trying to find the artifact you came for. There. On his desk. All you had to do was grab it, and-

The old man grabbed you by the hips, pulling you flush against his body. "Where were we, sweetheart?"

Insides roiling with disgust, you turned around and placed your hands on his chest, giving him the sweetest smile you could muster. "Right here," you said cattily, batting your eyelashes as you grabbed him by the lapels and led him backwards to the desk.

Here goes nothing, you thought, and pulled the old guy in for a kiss. Trying to ignore the way his tongue dug into your mouth, you felt around behind you for the artifact.

Got it. You quickly palmed the object and broke the kiss, looking up at the old man through your lashes. Now Sam or Dean was gonna bust down the door, claiming you as his missing drunk sister.

Aaaaany minute now.

The old man smiled wolfishly and you felt his hands creeping lower, lower, until he grabbed your ass firmly, jerking you closer to him and capturing your lips again.

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was not going how it was supposed to. You tried to wiggle away, but the guy was surprisingly strong for his age.

"Where you going, baby?" he asked, eyes glinting.

"I think I- I have to go," you said, aware that you were sounding a little panicked.

"You wanted this," he reminded you, giving your ass a tight squeeze. He swung you around and pushed you into the leather couch across from the desk. You tried to scramble up, but it was hard with your tight dress and the artifact still clutched in your hand, desperately being concealed, so the old man grabbed you easily by the hair, forcing you to stay down.

"Now why don't we put those pretty lips to use?"

The door swung open with a bang. The old man looked up, startled, releasing his death grip on your hair.

"There you are," came the fake-laughing voice of Dean.

"Who are you?" demanded the old man. "Get out of here!"

"Sorry man, this is my sister," Dean said, raising his hands apologetically. "She gets really hammered, acts like a slut. Gotta get her home." He helped you up, and you smiled and giggled, putting on the drunk-girl act.

Dean helped you hurry out of the room, the old man looking disappointed and angry at being cockblocked.

"Thanks," you whispered once you were down the hall and out of earshot. "What a creep."

"Please tell me you got it," Dean said darkly, weaving you through the crowd. You slipped the artifact into his suit pocket, giving it a pat for good measure.

"Didn't do that for nothing." You winked at him and pushed him away to walk the rest of the way to the car on your own two feet.

Dean stared after you, dumbfounded. He tried not to fixate on the way your hips swayed in that dress as you walked away proudly. God, that dress! It hugged your body perfectly, and Dean would be lying if he said he hadn't been eyeing you all night. His cock was semi-hard in his dress pants, an annoying reminder of just how much you'd proved him wrong.

"Come on, dickhead," you yelled out the back window of the Impala. Dean realized starkly that he had stopped in place thinking about your tits.

"Dammit," he muttered, hurrying around to the driver's seat.

The three of you piled into your hotel room to debrief from the mission. You assured the boys that you were alright from your creepy encounter with the old guy, and that stealing the artifact was worth it. The way Dean watched you raptly as you began to disrobe was not lost on you.

"I've dealt with worse in my time," you reminded them, shaking out your hair. "I'm a solo female hunter. Sleazy men hit on me literally wherever I go." You plopped down on the bed and pulled your stockings off one by one.

"As long as you're sure," Sam said, stretching and yawning. "I'm gonna head back over to our room to get some sleep. You coming, Dean?"

Dean snapped out of his fantasy. "Uh, no. I'll be there in a little bit. Gotta talk to her about something."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Just don't bite each other's head off." And with that, he was gone.

You watched Dean from the shadows of the half-lit room. When he made no move to say anything, you did. "What do you need to talk about?" you asked, knowing full well. "Gonna say sorry cuz of how wrong you were?"

Dean flicked his eyes up to yours. Where had he been looking before?

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah. You did good."

You stood and sauntered over to where he sat in a straight-backed chair by the dresser. "But that's not all, is it?" You smirked at him and looked him up and down, gaze lingering on his crotch, where a tent had begun to form.

Dean covered his bulge with his hand and pressed down, growling. "You were a little too good."

"So, what? You stayed because you want me to help with that?" you teased, coming closer.

"Yeah," Dean said roughly, standing quickly.

"No," you said bluntly, taking him by the shoulder and pushing him back into the chair.

Dean grimaced. "Why? Please," he begged, face twisted in arousal.

You giggled. "Wow."

"What?" Dean snapped, eyes cracking open.

"Nothing," you said, smirking. "You could beg a little more, might help." You felt your own arousal start to pool in your panties.

"Please, Y/N." Dean looked up at you with wild eyes, squeezing his cock through his pants.

"Please what?" You cocked your head.

"Please... make me cum," he said finally, eyes dropping to your midriff, unwilling to hold your gaze.

You tilted his chin up so he would look at you again, feeling a certain sense of satisfaction that you had somehow reduced him to this begging, horny mess in the chair before you.

"All you had to do was ask," you said softly. You backed away and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Dean started to get up and follow you.

"No," you said, holding up a red-manicured finger. "Sit back down." You pointed.

Dean frowned but did as he was told. You smiled, delighted.

"You're having way too much fun with this," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry what was that?" you asked with a stern expression. "Do you want to cum or not?"

Dean's dick twitched in his pants. The way you bossed him around was really turning him on. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought." You twirled your hair thoughtfully. Dean whined impatiently.

"Tsk, tsk." You crossed your legs at an angle where he could almost see through the slit into your crotch. "Take your cock out."

Dean was all too happy to oblige, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants faster than you could say desperate, hiking up his dress shirt in the process.

"Wait," you interrupted before he could go any further. "Why don't you unbutton your shirt, too. Wouldn't want to make a mess." You smirked.

"Okay," Dean agreed breathily, practically tearing the two sides of the shirt from each other, exposing his muscular torso. You had seen him shirtless before, but there was something about the way he was breathing, stomach rising and falling quickly as he panted, that turned you on when it wouldn't normally.

"Now you can take your dick out," you said. You held your breath a little as his cock came into view. He was fully hard now, and dripping. He squeezed the base, moaning.

"Now what?" he asked, eyes shut as he lightly stroked his cock with his fingertips.

"You need me to tell you how to jack off?" you asked meanly. To your surprise, Dean moaned loudly at that.

He began stroking his cock, slowly at first, building up speed as he could no longer contain himself. A near-constant string of quiet whimpers and moans fell from his lips. You took note of the way he swiped his thumb over his leaking slit, spreading it around to aid his fingers.

"Look at me," you instructed. You wanted to see that wild look in his eyes again, and were instantly rewarded as his eyes flew open to meet yours. His mouth fell open as he gasped when he saw you.

"Forget I was here?" you teased. Dean gulped and shook his head vehemently. His hand slowed, and he started tugging himself less frantically, holding eye contact with you intensely.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely. "You're so hot, wanna see you."

You smirked. "Only because you admitted it." You hiked up your skirt, spreading the slit open so he could see your black lace panties.

Dean devoured your skin with his eyes, rubbing the head of his cock in circles with his thumb.

You dropped the straps of your dress so that they hung loosely around your shoulders and ran your long nails across your collarbones, petting your shoulders. Then you took hold of the neckline and pulled it down, freeing your tits from the dress.

"Better than I imagined, baby," Dean groaned at the sight, as his hips bucked into his hand.

You took one of your breasts in your hand, squeezing it towards your chest. "You imagined?" you lilted, smiling.

"Been thinkin' about you all night," he admitted shamelessly. "How good your tits looked in that dress. How good- ngh- you looked walkin' away from me."

Your other hand started creeping into your skirt. "Thought I couldn't even seduce a virgin. What does that make you?"

Dean growled, jerking his cock faster. "I don't- fuck-"

"Maybe you're just a manwhore," you purred, hopping off the bed to approach him.

"Please," Dean gasped, tossing his head back. "I need you."

You scoffed. "I'm not that lacking in self-respect." You lightly scratched your fingernails down the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, groaning, hand stilling.

You leaned in to murmur in his ear. "No, you're gonna take care of this all... by... yourself." You laced your fingers into his short hair, scratching his scalp, and pulled his head back. He relaxed and his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling.

"So take care of it," you remind him harshly, giving his hair a hard tug before letting go. Dean raised his head hazily and began to stroke his dick again, gasping. It was angry red, practically begging for release, but Dean seemed determined to tease himself until he couldn't take it anymore, which you suspected would be soon.

You turned your back to him and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor in a silken puddle. You heard Dean moan softly, sound of skin rubbing skin growing faster. You smiled to yourself as an idea occurred to you.

Against a backdrop of street lamplight coming through the window and lewd noises coming from Dean, you padded barefoot wearing only your underwear to the other side of the bed, where your pajamas lay folded neatly on the nightstand. You unfolded them and spread them out on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked hoarsely. "Don't- please stay- I need to see you," he whimpered finally.

You ignored him, as you had been planning to do, and put your pajamas on dramatically slowly to the soundtrack of Dean begging you to stop, stay naked, help him.

You turned back to him when you were finished and a rush of arousal hit you at the sight: Dean, cock in hand, sitting exactly where you had left him, sweaty and gasping and looking at you with a wild, desperate expression. You moaned softly in spite of yourself.

"Poor baby," you pout, rounding the bed to sit next to him again. "Haven't you come yet?"

Dean's hand was working overtime, forearm muscles flexing and rippling beneath his skin where his sleeve was rolled up.

"Can't," he breathed.

"You can't come?" You feigned surprise, even though you had known for several minutes that he was probably going to wait for your permission.

"Need you," Dean panted. "Can't do it- mm- without you."

"Sure you can," you said, running your nails down his chest. He shivered intensely.

Dean whimpered, face contorting in frustration. "I can't."

"What, I got you so turned on you can't even jack off without me?" you tease, fingertips stopping right above his happy trail.

"Please touch me."

"I am touching you," you reply smoothly, digging your fingers into his stomach.

Dean rolled his eyes, although you weren't sure if it was sass or pleasure. "Please," he insisted, whining.

"Useless." You replaced his hand with yours, gripping his cock tightly as you stroked it for him. "Can't even make yourself come without my help."

Dean went slack-jawed, head falling back once more. "Uh-huh," he moaned breathily. He ground his hips upwards, trying to find more pressure or friction or something but getting nothing but what you gave him.

"You're a useless whore, right?" you taunted. He would tell you if you went too far, right?

"Yes," Dean groaned loudly. You almost clapped your hand over his mouth, certain that Sam could hear through the walls.

"Shhh, be quiet baby," you said instead. You swiped your thumb over the head of his dick and he hissed, biting his lip. Your other hand went down to cup his balls, giving them a light squeeze.

Suddenly Dean's whole body tensed and his eyes flew open. "Shit- I'm so close, please," he panted. His abs flexed, indicating that he was telling the truth.

You increased the pressure on both hands slightly. "Go on then."

Dean let out a sound somewhere between a strangled gasp and a groan as he came, spurting over his stomach and your hands. You kept pumping, using his cum to aid your efforts, until he was begging you to stop between gasping breaths. Only then did you let go of him, admiring your handiwork.

One Dean Winchester (formerly unbelieving of your sexual prowess), spread over a chair, covered in cum, sweaty and panting and utterly fucked out.

"Thank you," he whispered weakly after a moment.

"Will you ever doubt me again?" you asked, smirking.

He rolled his head to the side to look at you. "No. Fuck, that was hot." Dean grinned. "Actually, I changed my mind. Maybe I should doubt you more often."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever, Winchester. Clean up and go to bed."

Dean got out of the chair stiffly, winked at you, and went to do as he was told.

dividers by @cafekitsune and @saradika

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Liar

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Author’s note: Yeah I hope you guys like these because they just keep coming.

Synopsis: Dean will do anything to protect you. He finds out just how far he’s willing to go.

You were different than Sammy was. Either that, or Dean had just gotten a whole lot better at lying over the years. He had never been able to lie to Sam, at least not for long, but you…

You trusted Dean completely. You believed everything he said. You assumed that since he had told you the truth about monsters, about his mom and yours, that he would tell you the truth about everything.

He wasn’t proud about all the times he had lied to you, but you were his baby sister, and he would protect you from everything, by any means necessary. Even if that meant he had to protect you from the truth sometimes.

…

“Is that dad?”

Dean didn’t bother answering you, so focused was he on listening to John’s instructions.

“Yes sir. I understand.”

“Dean, I wanna talk to him! Tell dad I’m here.”

“No sir, I’m listening. Yes sir. Alright.” Dean hung up the phone, and only after the echo of his father’s authoritative voice was out of his head did he give you his attention. By then it was too late, and Dean’s heart ached a little at the shattering disappointment on your face.

“Dean, I wanted to talk to dad. That was dad, right?”

Dean cleared his throat, and he focused on a spot just above your shoulder, unable to fully meet your eye.

“Yeah, yeah that was dad. Sorry, he said to tell you he loves you. He was in the middle of something, he couldn’t talk any longer.”

“Is he in danger?”

“No, no he’s gonna be fine, he just…couldn’t talk.”

You still looked disappointed, but after hearing your father’s “message”, your face brightened a bit.

“Ok…do we have a job?”

Dean finally met your eye, and smiled down at you.

“Yeah, we gotta job. Go take your bags to the car, ok?”

Only after you had left the hotel room with an armload of bags, did Sam turn to glare at his brother.

“ ‘Dad says I love you’? Really Dean?”

Dean glared right back.

“What did you want me to say, Sam? You think she would’ve been ok if I had said, ‘Sorry kid, daddy’s too busy hunting a demon to remember to say I love you to his daughter’? Look, dad has a lot going on right now, and that’s fine for you and me. But she needs-“

Dean cut himself off when you came bounding back into the hotel room.

“Everything’s packed and I’m hungry. Can we go now?”

Dean grinned, brushing past Sam and throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Heck yeah we’re going now. You’re not the only one who’s hungry.”

“Dean?” At Dean’s hum of response, you continued, “Is dad…is he gonna come back soon?”

Both Dean and Sam froze, and Dean glanced at Sam for a split second before responding.

“Yeah baby. Of course he’ll be back soon.”

…

“Dean?”

Dean bit back a groan, and instead he took a long swig of the beer in his hand. Obviously it was you on the other side of the bathroom door, and he could tell just by the one word that you were still crying.

He had taken refuge in the bathroom so that he could be alone with his thoughts. He would’ve taken Baby out for a drive, but John had left the hotel room just a few minutes after Sam, and Dean didn’t want to leave you completely alone.

Alone. Gosh he hated that word. But more than the word, he hated the feeling. He’d never felt more alone than he did tonight. Sam was going to college. Dad’s golden boy had left after a long and heated argument, and dad himself was too pissed about it to stay in the presence of his other two kids.

Not that Dean could blame him, he’d wanted to get away from what was left of his family too, at least for a couple hours to clear his head. But he couldn’t. Actually, he could. He could push past the crying girl at the bathroom door, grab the keys to the Impala, and not look back.

But he wouldn’t. Not to you, not to the kid that trusted him more than anything.

Dean put his beer down and pushed himself to his feet, hesitating a moment when his hand reached for the door handle. But only for a moment.

Your face was red and tear-streaked, and your lips were trembling. But the second you saw Dean, relief lightened your features, and you stood there awkwardly for a moment before Dean pulled you into a hug.

“It’s gonna be ok.”

Was it? Dean sighed. It didn’t matter if he believed it, so long as you did.

“Is Sam gonna come back?” You sobbed, fingers gripping fistfuls of Dean’s shirt. He cradled the back of your head in one hand, the other coming up to rub your back.

“Of course,” Dean managed to get past the lump in his throat. “Of course Sammy’s coming back. College won’t last forever.”

You looked up at Dean just then, blinking the tears out of your eyes.

“But dad…dad told him not to come back.”

Dean gently pushed your head back against his chest, unable to look you in the eye.

“He…dad was just angry. He didn’t mean it.”

Dean felt like that was the most outlandish lie he had uttered tonight—dad wasn’t one to change his mind—but of course, you believed him anyway.

“Ok.”

Dean sighed in relief. As long as you believed him, nothing else really mattered right now. At least nothing that he cared to think about.

“Dean?”

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“You won’t leave me…will you?”

For the first time all night, Dean could look into your eyes and confidently answer you, not a hint of a lie in his words.

“No baby. I will never leave you.”

…

“Of course dad will be here.”

Dean was tired. Tired of all of it. He was tired of missing Sam, tired of pretending he didn’t miss Sam when you were around. Tired of doing hunts alone. Tired of John taking off for days at a time.

But, perhaps most of all, he was tired of this. Tired of lying to you for John, so you could keep the image you had of a perfect father. He didn’t want to do it anymore. Guilt for lying to someone who trusted him so completely was eating him up. Watching you fall apart every time dad left, then looking to him for reassurance, for the glue to put you back together, was wearing him out. Just once, he wished John would be there for you so he didn’t have to come up with the lies. He was tired of it.

But he knew that you needed this. You had lost so much in your life; your mother, any friends you could have made if you didn’t move around so much, any sense of normality, any sense of safety, and, most recently, Sam. He couldn’t let you lose your dad too, no matter how little John was actually in your life to be a dad.

“Do you think he even remembers?”

Dean was snapped back to reality to find you staring up at him yet again, a fragility in your eyes that he had gotten used to but yet would never cease to hurt his heart.

“Of course he remembers, kiddo. What kinda dad would forget your birthday? He’s doing his best to be here, I know it. Sometimes those ghosts though, they just don’t take a day off.” Dean felt that his attempt today was a bit halfhearted, and he couldn’t even muster enough energy to try looking anywhere near your face while he lied to you.

Even with this utterly pathetic display, you smiled briefly up at him and gave him a brief hug.

“That’s ok. Even if the ghosts keep him away, maybe he’ll want to celebrate when he gets back.”

Dean rubbed your back, grateful for an excuse to not have to look at you.

“Yeah. Of course he will.”

…

“I’m fine, of course I’m fine.”

This lie was perhaps the easiest. Because it was the lie that he told to everyone, not just you.

“But your arm…” Dean flinched away when you reached for the gash on his arm, and you withdrew your hand. “Sorry.”

Dean just shook his head, “no, it’s fine, I’ll just patch it up real quick and we can-“

Dean was cut off by a knock on the hotel door, and he immediately went into hunter mode. He snatched his gun up from the dresser, gestured for you to hide, and hesitantly looked through the peep hole. You noticed his body relax, and he put the gun down, opening the door to reveal John Winchester.

You didn’t hesitate, running out from behind the bed and bounding towards John. Before you could reach out and pull your dad into a hug, he grabbed your arms and firmly moved you aside, barely sparing you a glance before turning his attention to Dean.

He wasn’t trying to be cruel, but he was too focused on his mission to notice that his little girl wanted her father.

“You’re hurt,” John glanced down at Dean’s arm, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth downward.

“I’m fine,” Dean insisted. “What’s the word? You got anything on the demon?”

John shook his head, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “Nothing. Now why don’t you-“ John cut himself off when he felt your small frame lean against his side, your arms coming up around his waist. You didn’t want to interrupt him, but you hadn’t seen your father in nearly two weeks, and he hadn’t called, not even once, to tell you he was ok.

John, however, didn’t understand nor appreciate your sentiment.

“That’s enough, go get the first aid kit for your brother.”

“I missed you, dad,” it didn’t really register in your mind that you were, at the moment, disobeying John. You were just desperate for him to reciprocate your affection, and Dean nearly cringed when you ignored John’s command, even if for just a moment. All that Dean’s lying had done was ensure that you didn’t truly understand John—he was not a man to be disobeyed, and he was not a man to put aside anything he deemed important for something as ludicrous as affection.

John’s large hands gripped your upper arms, and Dean didn’t miss the way your face contorted in shock—and pain?—as John pulled you away from him.

“I said that’s enough, now do what I said before there are consequences.” John wasn’t shouting, per se, but he was definitely using his sergeant voice, and his sudden rigidity seemed to both shock and scare you.

“I’m sorry,” your voice was quiet, and this time Dean did cringe. Why did you have to be so focused on getting a real response from John? Didn’t you understand that you were just supposed to obey?

No, of course you didn’t. You weren’t used to John, whether you knew it or not. You were used to Dean. And Dean would’ve hugged you back.

“Do what I said!” John was shouting now, and this time he reached a hand up and pushed your shoulder. Not very hard, but you hadn’t been expecting it, and it was enough to make you stagger back several feet before Dean instinctively reached out to steady you. He almost cringed a second time when John turned his glare to Dean.

“Don’t coddle her, Dean. Is that why your wound has gone untreated? Because you just let her do whatever she wants?”

Dean cleared his throat, and gave you a brief look that told you to do as your father said. You scrambled off to find the first aid kit while Dean addressed John.

“No, sir. I don’t need her to treat my wound, I was about to do it myself. I just got back.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to. She should know how to treat a simple wound, and she doesn’t have anything else to do.”

Dean wasn’t about to argue that, as a young kid still in school, you had plenty else to do. Dean had put together his own curriculum for you, he figured it was a better way to get an education than switching schools every few weeks like he had. But to John, school wasn’t exactly a priority. It wasn’t going to get you anywhere in the hunting world. K

You had finally found the first aid kit, and you tugged on Dean’s arm, leading him to sit down on his bed before you pulled out the kit to sew up his arm.

He grabbed your hand before you could pierce his arm with the needle, noticing that your hands were shaking.

“It’s fine,” Dean reassured you, “I can do it myself.”

“How’d you get that?” John asked from the other side of the room.

Dean tried to shrug it off, “One more vamp then I thought there was. It’s not bad.”

“If you’d had backup, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“I don’t need backup,” Dean grunted.

“Stitch him up,” John demanded, looking at you. He then turned his attention to Dean. “Backup would do you good, though.”

Dean grabbed your hand again before you could try to stitch him up, “Go get me a drink, baby. If I’m not gonna be the one with the needle, I might as well be drunk.” He handed you a few dollars, and you nervously headed for the door, throwing a worried glance in John’s direction. For once in his life, John let you follow Dean’s instructions rather than his. He had a feeling he had a much bigger problem to deal with with Dean.

“You don’t have Sam anymore. You could use her,” John spoke as soon as the motel door shut behind you.

“She’s not old enough. I’m not gonna do that to her, I’m not gonna get her killed.”

“If you train her right she won’t get killed.”

“You can’t know that! Even the best get killed in this life, and she’s just a kid! I’m not gonna watch her get hurt!”

John scoffed, “You’re babying her. She’s in this life whether you like it or not.”

Dean gritted his teeth, “But I can reduce the risks. And that means no hunting. Not for her.”

“Maybe it’s not your call, Dean.”

Dean stiffened.

“Really, dad? You leave me with her, leave me to raise her for weeks on end, all the time, but when I want to protect her, now you pull the dad card?” Dean stepped towards John, his chest heaving. “Well you’re not her dad. You were never there for her, I was! You don’t get to decide whether she gets thrown into danger, I do!”

John clenched his fists.

“What has gotten into you? Stand down now, Dean. This isn’t a fight you’re going to win.”

Dean set his jaw.

“Yes it is. And you wanna know why?” He closed the small gap between himself and his father.

“Because she’s my girl.”

…

You jumped in surprise when you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning to see Dean standing there, both your bag and his in his arms.

“What’s wrong?”

Dean shook his head, trying hard not to seethe.

“Nothin’ baby, just some…complications,” Dean focused on his usual spot, just above your shoulder. “We think there’s something big in the next town over, you and me are taking the Impala, dad can catch up later.”

You frowned, “Dean, what about your arm?”

“It’ll be fine, I’ll give it a quick patch job and I can sew it up when we get where we’re going. Now c’mon, we’re in a hurry.”

…

You were quiet as Dean loaded up the Impala and began to drive out of town. In fact, he was starting to think that you were dozing off when you finally spoke.

“There isn’t a job, is there?”

Dean glanced at you, frowning.

“What are you talking about, N/N? Of course there’s a job, I-“

“You and dad fought, didn’t you? Was it about me?”

Dean turned to stare at you. You hesitated before meeting his gaze head-on.

“He was mad, I could tell. You were, too. And a job could’ve waited until after you sewed yourself up. You didn’t want me going back to the room, because dad was there.”

Dean cleared his throat, returning his gaze to the road.

“So what, you’re saying you think I lied to you?”

You pulled your knees up to your chest and looked out the window.

“Did you?”

Dean shook his head, “C’mon baby, don’t you trust me?”

“Why didn’t you answer my question?”

Dean sighed.

“Dean? Why didn’t you want me to go back to the room?”

“Can’t you just trust me?”

“Don’t say that, I do trust you, always. But I wanna know.”

Dean tried his best to force a smile on his lips as he reached over and ruffled your hair.

“Doesn’t matter sweetheart. What matters is, you’re safe, and we’re gonna be ok.”

“What about dad?”

Dean forced himself to look over at you, and he felt a pang in his chest when he saw you. You were curled in on yourself, looking up at him. You looked so small.

“Honey, I need you to just trust me. Please, can you do that for me?”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“Ok Dean. I trust you.”