#dean winchester fiction

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Across Every Universe

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey Jordan, can i request something where Dean Winchester always have a crush on the reader but never said something to her until one day Sam and Dean are transported (based on the episode French Mistake) and Dean actor Jensen and is married to the reader of the universe and she pass the whole day giving Dean hug and kisses because for everyone is Jensen. When Dean and Sam came back to their universe him and the reader start dating? Fluff 

Summary: Sam and Dean are taken back to the same place where Dean is known as Jensen Ackles and Sam as Jared Padalecki. This little trip makes Dean realize his feelings for you.

Square Filled: "god, if only you knew what you did to me" (2023) for @spnaubingo

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

x

No matter the position you’re in, you’re not comfortable. It doesn’t matter if you lie down on your side, your back, or your stomach. Not to mention the heater isn’t working in the Bunker so it’s very cold. You have three blankets over you while wearing long sleeves and pajama pants. The broken heater doesn’t help your running cold either. You’re not sure where you caught it from but you’ve been trying to stay away from the brothers to not get them sick.

That doesn’t keep Dean away, though.

He’s a complete sweetheart to you since he always brings you soup, makes sure you’re comfortable, and spends time with you even if you tell him not to go near you. You don’t know what you’d do without Dean in your life.

Speaking of, he knocks on your door and enters wearing his usual hunting attire.

“Going on a hunt?” you ask and sit up slightly.

“Yeah. I wish I could stay here and take care of you.”

“Other people need you,” you smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to stay in bed, watch movies, and make some soup later. Did you fix the heater, yet?”

“I have someone coming in a few days. He’s also on a hunt.”

“Right, no non-hunters here,” you chuckle.

“I’ll call you later and check up on you, okay?”

“My hero.”

You cuddle with your blankets more and Dean leaves your room with a slight blush on his cheeks. Before he closes the door, he looks back at you in thought. God, if only you knew what you did to me.

He closes your door and meets his brother in the library. As soon as they are packed and ready to go, they start the long drive to the next state over. When Dean gets onto the highway, Sam turns to Dean with a knowing smile.

“So, did you tell her how you feel?”

“Stay out of it, Sammy,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“How long have you had a thing for her? Years? When are you going to tell her how you feel?”

“I mean it, Sam. Stay out of it. I can handle it on my own.”

“Apparently not, or else she’d be yours.”

Dean punches his brother not gently in the arm and Sam laughs. Dean kept the music high so he could avoid talking about his feelings for you. They get to the town that has its residents sacrificing themselves in the name of God. If anything, it warrants some kind of visit from the Winchesters.

The town looks like a normal town with normal people just trying to live their normal lives. They have no suspicions that something is happening but they only just arrived. They get there late at night so they will have to do their work tomorrow morning. Dean takes out his phone when his brother goes into the bathroom to shower and calls you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“I’m doing alright but not any better.”

“Did you take your medicine?”

“Yes, I did.�� He can hear the smile in your voice and that makes him smile. “And I ate my soup and drank water.”

“Don’t forget to tell her goodnight,” Sam says loudly from the bathroom.

Dean grabs a pillow and chucks it at his brother. “Go take a shower. You stink.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” you chuckle, having heard Sam.

“Night sweetheart.” He hangs up and turns to his brother with a scowl. “I hate you.”

Sam and Dean actually get more than four hours of sleep that night but when Dean wakes up, he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. The motel is gone, the shutty beds and blankets are gone, and the peeling wallpaper is gone. What replaces it is a nice trailer, a comfortable bed, a big aquarium, and other nice shit that Dean has never had.

“Sammy?” he calls out. He gets up and leaves the small trailer only to run into Sam. “What the hell is going on? Where are we?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looks around and spots a name on the side of the trailer that’s behind Dean. “Oh, no. Look.”

Dean turns and sees the name ‘Jensen Ackles’ on the side. He turns back around and sees ‘Jared Padalecki’ on the trailer opposite his.

“You’ve got to be kidding me? We’re back in actor land? What happened last time?”

“Gabriel sent us here to avoid Raphael and his minions. I have no idea how we ended up here.”

“I bet it has something to do with the fact that people were sacrificing themselves in the name of God. My guess is that angels are involved.”

“There you two are.” Sam and Dean turn to see Castiel--Misha--walking toward them. “They’re looking for you two.”

“Yeah, we’re coming.”

If Sam and Dean didn’t do a good job trying to act last time, then they certainly aren’t going to do a good job now. It’s funny in hindsight but it makes for a very long day of filming. After the twentieth time messing up, Dean is ready to get the hell out of there to figure out how to get back to his world.

He looks to the right and sees you at the snack bar. He immediately calls for a time-out and leaves the set.

“Time out?” the director frowns and looks at him. “Everyone, take ten!”

“Y/N?”

“Come here, you have to try this. Gen made it,” you grin at Dean. You take a scoopful of food and present it to him. He opens his mouth and accepts the food, pleasantly surprised by the taste. “Oh, you have something on your mouth.” You wipe his bottom lip with your thumb and lick the food off. Dean is so confused about your behavior but doesn’t have time to figure it out. Your phone rings and you check who is messaging you. “I gotta go. Gen is here.”

You lean up and kiss him quickly before walking off. Dean can’t move after that quick kiss. You did it so casually like you’ve done it a thousand times. He is forced to go back to acting but he can’t do a good job because all he’s thinking about is your lips on his.

They aren’t getting enough filming done so the director calls it for the rest of the day. Sam and Dean convene outside to make it look like they’re busy so no one else talks to them.

“She kissed me, dude.”

“What?”

“Y/N or the woman who she’s supposed to be. She kissed me like we’re together or something.”

“Look, I’m glad you’re going through the five stages of teenage excitement but can we focus here? How are we going to get out of here?”

Dean looks around and spots you entering his trailer.

“Eh, you’ll figure it out. I’ll be back.”

Dean leaves to his trailer and Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“Dean!” he hisses but receives no answer.

Dean enters his counterpart’s trailer and sees you where the bed is. You’re grabbing some night clothes out of the drawers since you’re not going to be leaving the trailer for the rest of the night.

“Hey, I talked to Gen about the cabin and she got it all set up for us this weekend. I’m so excited to spend some time away from all this for two days.”

“Are we dating?” The comment makes you laugh. “What?”

“Are you okay?” He looks kind of nervous so you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but I do know how to make you feel better.”

“How?” he whispers.

You run your hands down his chest and take his hands. You take him to the bed and toss your night clothes onto a nearby chair. You fall onto the bed while pulling him so he lands on top of you but he stops himself with his hands so he doesn’t completely crush you.

You pull him down to kiss you and that’s enough to bring Dean into the delusion that you’re Y/N and you’re his. Your lips are softer than what he thought and your body fits so perfectly against his. He slips his tongue into your mouth to get familiar with you. You tug on his hair to get some traction so he pulls away from your mouth and kisses down your neck.

Your neck has always been a sensitive spot for you and he really knows how to work you up. He licks up and down your neck before latching onto the side of it. You gasp, tilt your head back, and moan something that brings Dean back down to reality.

“Jensen.” You’re not his. You’re not you. You’re Jensen’s. You’re not supposed to be with him. He pulls away and pants above you. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we just lay here instead?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me get changed.”

You slip out from underneath him and grab the pajamas you set aside earlier. You strip down naked and Dean has a hard time not looking at you. He can’t help but think you’re a complete stranger. The pajamas you’re wearing are revealing but he feels better at looking at you with clothes on. You climb into bed with him and cuddle into his side, and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your head.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“Tell me the story of how we met.” You look at him in confusion. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Okay, I got tickets to a red carpet event that my ex-friend invited me to. We were going to see the movie My Bloody Valentine because we thought it was going to be the next big movie. The entire cast was there, including you, meeting fans and taking pictures with them. When we locked eyes, it was like something was pulling you to me.

“You came over to me, complimented me on my dress, signed my poster with your number on it which I still have, and the rest is history. I never got together with you because you were a big celebrity. You were genuine, kind, funny, charming, and very sexy. It was hard not to fall in love with you.”

Dean notices the big ring on your finger and puts the pieces together.

“We’re married?”

“Yes, we are,” you laugh. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just… really happy.”

You lean over and kiss him. The next morning, Dean leaves his trailer before you get up. He doesn’t want to wake you even though he wants to. He finds Sam outside his own trailer with a book in his hands.

“Hey,” Dean sighs.

“I might have found a way out of here, no thanks to you.”

“What if we didn’t leave?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“The love of my life is my wife here.”

“That’s not your wife, Dean. She’s Jensen’s wife. She thinks you’re him. Why would you take that away from him? You have a girl waiting for you at home, a girl with whom you’re too scared to do anything about. Don’t take her away from him because you want what they have.”

Dean knows he’s right. He can’t stay here. He’s using this world as an escape from his own.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean sighs. “What do you have?”

“I found this book in the prop section. This might be a TV show but it does have some useful books to make it look real. There’s a ritual we can do.”

And a ritual it is. Once they get the stuff needed and perform it, they are brought back to the town they arrived in a couple of days ago. In order to properly tackle this town, they’re going to need some angelic help. Maybe Castiel can meet them back at the Bunker and figure something out then.

The first thing Dean does when he gets home is go looking for you. You’re still stuck in bed watching your favorite movies on Disney+. You pause your movie when your bedroom door opens.

“Hey, how was the hunt?” Dean doesn’t say anything as he kicks off his shoes. He climbs into bed with you and pulls you close to him. “Dean?”

“I love you,” he blurts. “I should have told you this years ago but I can’t seem to think straight when I’m with you. You make everything better for me, and you’re a better hunter than I ever was. God, I love you so much.”

“I’d kiss you but I don’t want to get you sick,” you smile.

“I don’t care,” he whispers and kisses you.

This is where he belongs. Right next to you.

x

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[heartiella]

[alltheficsiwant]

This. My heart is just longing for this kind of feeling and connection. Gosh. I'm loving this. I might do a read-over because this so good. 😍

Never Say Goodbye - Part 7

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader 

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

AN: This chapter’s rated M! Also, in the name of classic rock, song inspo for this chapter was “Victorious” by Chicago. (An oldie but forgotten goodie.) 

Word Count: 5,200 Warnings: romantic smut (18+ only!), language, angst, hurt/comfort, hella fluff.

Part 7: First Touch

Dean struggled with the mangled state of the door before he was able to slip inside your bedroom. That would be the first thing he fixed tomorrow. 

“At least no one’ll catch you by surprise,” he muttered. Once he was sure the door wasn’t going to fall and wake up the whole house, he turned and saw you.

You’d been waiting for him while sitting on your bed. Dean took you in, with your hair loose around your shoulders and wearing just a loose-fitting shirt that fell to your bare thighs.

The sight was enticing, but your face was so sad that it took him out of staring like an idiot. 

You slid off the bed and started towards him. He met you in the middle and enveloped you in his arms. Feeling your hands clench into the back of his shirt, Dean pulled you in closer and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. 

He wouldn’t tell you it was okay, because he knew it wasn’t. He’d certainly been there. You clung to him and spilled silent tears into his shirt while he stroked your hair, your back.

Eventually you pulled away, just enough to see his face. Your eyes still burned, but the tears had ebbed at least some. 

“Thank you,” you said. And you meant it. You were grateful. He didn’t have to be this kind, or this patient with you. 

For his part, Dean just wanted to do whatever he could to make this easier for you: seeing your mom again, learning about things that go bump in the night, and being stuck with someone like him as your soulmate.

But he also couldn’t help himself. 

He leaned down, slowly enough to give you time to push him away if you wanted to. You didn’t though; your gaze lowered to his lips. So Dean gave in. He kissed you.  

First it was just a gentle press of his lips against yours, testing the waters. Then he tested you again. You leaned up into the angle of his kiss, all but clinging to his arms. Your hand traveled up his toned arm and slid up the back of his neck, pulling him down to you. 

But the kiss deepened when your tongue sought his for the first time. Then it became all-consuming. Dean’s brows furrowed as your fingers slipped pleasantly into his hair. He instinctively gripped your waist, the soft swell of your hips. All of your curves felt so good in his hands.

The deeper he allowed himself to go, the more he lost himself in your mouth, the quiet, needy sounds you made, the feeling of you brushing against his mind and making him feel like the blood in his veins were fucking on fire. He fought the instinct to push you up against the dresser and find out what other soft parts of your body fit so well against his.

Instead, he walked you back until he sunk down on the edge of the bed. You followed him and straddled his lap. Your bare thighs felt delicious friction against his jeans. Though for a moment, the kiss broke as you took his face in your hands. 

You were both breathing hard as you finally let this moment hit you. Staring into the depths of his eyes, you saw everything you never thought you would see: desire, tenderness…

You wanted to trust him with yourself. You wanted this…but was it happening too fast? 

Dean seemed to sense your indecision. His grip on your waist felt heavy, but comfortable. His forearms rested on your thighs. 

“Want to slow down?” he asked. You sensed through the bond that he was hoping you’d say no. But he was waiting on you. 

You stroked his cheek. “I want this, believe me. But I also want to get to know you.”

He let out a long breath. 

“I’m sorry.” You frowned apologetically. You really weren’t trying to tease him.

He nodded and stroked your hip with his thumb. “It’s okay. I get it.”

After a moment, a slightly cheeky smile grew on your face. Maybe you could tease him just a little.

“Don’t you know?” you asked. “The best things in life come after some delayed gratification.”

He looked at you in surprise. You knew he remembered telling you exactly that a couple of days ago, when you first starting playing the “name game.” 

Dean cracked a smile, then soon his whole body shook with laughter. You smiled as he pressed his forehead against your chest, and you tried not to giggle too hard at his expense. Instead, you carded your fingers through his hair.

“Ooh, you’re trouble,” he muttered. 

You scoffed. “And you’re not?”

“Touché,” he said, and then gripped your hips a bit tighter. Before you knew it, he’d tumbled you both sideways onto the bed. 

You squealed as you floundered, but you were able to right yourself on your side of the bed. You pillowed your arm beneath your head and faced Dean, who reluctantly copied your position.

He felt a bit like a teenage girl on a sleepover this way, but he supposed he could get over that. The sight of you all laid out next to him was all-too tempting to ignore. He smirked at you.

“What now?” he asked.

You thought for a moment. “Well…I kind of feel silly asking this. But you don’t have a string of girlfriends on your merry cross-country travels, do you?”

Dean chuckled. “No. You don’t gotta worry about anything like that.”

You shot him a narrow-eyed look. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. You looked like you’ve broken a few hearts along the way.”

“A gentleman never tells,” he teased. But then he gave you a more gentle smile. “But seriously. I don’t play games. Not with this, at least. And I won’t do that with you. I’m not an asshole.”

You felt the sincerity of his words through the bond, and you actually believed him. 

“Okay.” You nodded. “So, I know you and Sam were basically raised into this…supernatural extermination gig. But how did you get started? What was the first monster thing you had to get rid of?”

“Well, first of all, we call it hunting,” he said. “I basically gave you that exterminator thing ‘cause I was tired of your bad guesses, Columbo.”

Your lips pursed. “Oh really? First I’m Nancy Drew, now I’m Columbo?”

“Anyway, to answer your question,” Dean said, unable to stop a smile. “My first kill was a harpy.”

“What, from Greek mythology?” you asked. Your attention was piqued.

“Uh, yeah. You’ve heard of it?”

“Dean, my master’s is in Greek and Roman Studies.”

“Well, excuse me, Professor.”

You grinned and tapped his hand in excitement. “Anyway, continue. Harpies actually exist?”

“Oh yeah.” He snorted. “They’re ugly too. Some old-ass hags that steal poor suckers’ souls.”

“Ech.” You grimaced. He explained how you killed them, then the story of how his dad finally let him on the hunt with him. 

When your questions continued, he listed off many of the creatures he’d encountered—with his dad, with Sam, or even on hunts he’d done solo, after his dad gave him the Impala and Sam was at Stanford.

That night, the two of you spent hours talking about everything and nothing. After the past couple of days you’d had, you should’ve been exhausted. And you probably were, but your mind was alive, thanks to Dean.

He told you more childhood antics he and Sam used to get up to at Bobby’s house (once they’d pranked his truck with a dead fish). He told you how he hadn’t seen the point of trying in high school, when all they did was move around from one town to the next. He’d learned enough to get by, and what he hadn’t learned in school, he’d taught himself. 

He told you how one time he’d snuck away from his dad when they were in Miami. John had found him the next morning. Dean had been on the floor of some club and still drunk, with glitter up his nose and his wallet mysteriously empty. Dean hadn’t been to Miami since. 

You told him about your thesis, “TV & Film: The Modern-Day Mythology of the Masses.” He told you the idea was awesome, and that your boss, Dr. Birch, was an asshole.

You argued why cake was superior to pie (a blasphemy, as far as Dean was concerned), and why Billy Joel deserved his place in the Rock Hall of Fame. 

“And I’m sorry, the Rolling Stones are overrated,” you said. Dean was aghast. 

“Oh, you better take that back,” he warned. “Those guys are ancient fucks, but they still rock hard. Hell, they practically invented rock as we know it.”

“Mick Jagger can’t sing!” you argued. “The songs are repetitive as hell—”

Dean had heard enough slander. He took a smaller pillow from your bed and lightly smacked you with it. 

You made a sound of utter shock. “What are we, five?”

You threw it back at him and he laughed and smacked it away. But he wasn’t expecting your surprise attack—rolling onto him and pinning his hands to the bed. Dean was surprised; you were wilier than you looked.  

You grinned down at him. “Nowhere to go, Winchester.”

His surprise melted into a smirk as he raised his brows at you. 

“All right, you’ve got me. Now what’re you gonna do?” he challenged. 

Your confidence wavered. Despite the fantastic bluff you were giving, you hadn’t had many opportunities to have a beautiful man in your bed. (Not to say there hadn’t been any, but this situation was…slightly different.)

While you were debating, Dean took advantage of your hesitation. He rolled his hands out of your grip, rolled you both over and pinned you down by your wrists, gentle but firm.

When your shock melted, you looked up at Dean with a blush and a smile.

“Impressive,” you remarked.

“Sweetheart, that ain’t the half of it,” he promised. You believed the playful heat in his eyes. You suddenly realized that the flare of desire you felt in the pit of your belly wasn’t just you. You were sensing his too.

So you leaned up and kissed him. It was like an answer to a craving, rich and decadent, and almost sinfully good. 

He met your passion with his own, releasing your hands so he could hold you more securely. Your hand swept along his cheek and disappeared again into his hair. Soon his lips drew a sensuous path away from your lips and down your neck, and you sighed, letting him sweep your hair out of the way. 

Your fingers dug a bit into his shoulder when his teeth grazed your skin, teasing, then playfully biting. He got the response he wanted with your sharp intake of breath. It was cliché, but you really felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

But you wanted to feel more of him. You pulled the back of his shirt up and helped him take it off, followed closely by his jeans. 

“You were gonna sleep in these?” you asked with a laugh. He shrugged, grinning.

“Couldn’t find my fuzzy pajamas,” he quipped. He was apparently a boxer-briefs guy, which suited him very well, you thought, fitting him in all the right places. You started to lift up your own sleep shirt when Dean stopped you. You looked up at him in question, but he just gently guided you back down and delved in with his hands beneath the thin fabric of your shirt. 

He started by revealing the top of your thighs and left hot kisses there. He bypassed your underwear (for now) to burn a teasing trail over each new part of your body he exposed, from your hip and across your stomach to the underside of your breasts. Meanwhile, your breathing became unsteady as you did your best to let him take his time. 

Your hands fisted into the sheets, but when he got close enough to touch, you slid your hands along his shoulders. You gasped as he brushed his thumbs over your hardened nipples, then finally took your breasts in his hands. He kneaded and pressed wet, open kisses wherever he saw fit. You felt like you were being devoured. 

When your shirt eventually came off, the onslaught continued. You welcomed the weight of his body on top of you and the feeling of skin against skin. Everywhere you touched was lean and firm and strong, every dip of muscle and the slope of his lower back. You wanted to explore it all and commit him to memory. 

You felt his knee between your legs, and you tried to press down into the contact. Both of you felt how wet your core was already through your underwear. 

Dean spared a second to catch his breath while he looked down at you. His gaze was intense, singularly focused on you.

“Is this what you want?” he asked. You’d put on the breaks before, so you were grateful that he was considering you, even now. 

Even though a mere few hours of talking had only scratched the surface of wanting to know him, this felt right. Being with him felt right. 

“Yeah,” you told him. You swiped your thumb affectionately across his chin. “I want you…and just to put it out there, I’m on birth control.”

Dean’s mouth quirked at an amused smile. He lowered down to give you another one of those searing kisses that made your toes curl. You continued to map out each other’s bodies with mouths and fingers, until Dean’s hooked into your underwear and lowered them down. Those talented fingers slipped between your folds and swiftly found what they were looking for, dipping inside your heated core with one finger first, then two. You were tight. 

You shuddered against him and gripped his arms and shoulders like a lifeline. “Dean…”

“I’ve got you,” he promised. His thumb moved up and found your clit, making your breath catch and another tremble run through your body. It was one thing to take care of this yourself. It was another entirely to have someone give you pleasure. He stroked slow and long, circled and pressed, finding out what you responded to. Sometimes you gave him instructions, and he was excellent at following them. Dean was learning you, and he was a quick study. 

He pulled your first release from you with a deep, trembling exhale and a moan into his ear. He was already painfully hard, but feeling you clench around his hand was almost too much. He swallowed the rest of your voice with a kiss. You held his face and gripped his hair, maybe a bit too tight, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

You felt bereft when his fingers slid out of you, but you didn’t feel that way for long. Dean positioned himself more centered, and after kicking off your underwear you reached out to help him with his. Once he was just as naked as you, you actually blushed at the sight of him. Your eyes traveled down his body, until they stopped and grew a fraction wider. 

Dear Lord…is it gonna fit? 

His hand on your cheek broke you out of your thoughts. You met his grin and the glint of amusement in his eyes. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. We’ll get there.”

Oh shit. You bit your lip. He definitely heard that thought. 

You sensed he was about to make another quipping remark, but you soon distracted him with your hands smoothing up his thighs and taking his dick into your hands. His breath hitched, making you smile. 

You caressed it a few times across its lengths, over its head, and softly on the underside. Dean pressed his forehead to your shoulder and let out a pleased hum as he fought to stay still. His knees were positioned on either side of your hips, and already his thighs were shaking at your touch. Eventually you put an end to both his delight and insanity.

“Okay, you ready?” you giggled and positioned him at your entrance. The beginnings of sweat were forming at his brow, more from restraint than exertion. He gave you a wry look through labored breaths. 

“Oh, I was right. You’re fucking trouble,” Dean quipped. But he still stroked a gentle thumb across your cheek. 

Together, you guided him inside you and it made both of you shudder. Neither of you realized it then, but there was a spiritual thread of energy in you and Dean that stuttered to life. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You okay?”

You nodded, squeezing his arms. You looked up at him with a smile. “Yeah. I’ve got you.”

A huff of a laugh fell through his lips. Finally, he started to move out of you. You let out a gasp and a moan when he slid back in. He filled you so completely from the inside out, and you had a stray thought that this couldn’t be real. 

Your nails bit into his skin on accident, making him hiss. A different gasp fell from your lips. “I’m sorry!”

He winked at you and gave a teasing squeeze of your thigh. “Don’t be. Biting and scratching are definitely allowed.” 

From that point on, Dean started to set a steadier pace while you helped him reach deeper angles inside you. That thread began to grow, a warm and pulsing sensation that built and built, until it bloomed with heat that spread through your insides like a molten caress. 

To say it took you by surprise was an understatement. Your mouth fell open in wordless shock as that wave continued to crash over you. This wasn’t purely physical. It was the bond—that energy coursing through you.

It wasn’t until it finally dissipated that you noticed Dean’s brows were furrowed, his eyes screwed shut and breathing hard, as if he were going through the same tidal wave as you had. 

He released a shaky groan and opened his eyes. Sweat had collected over his brow and you swept some of it away with a smile. He returned it and slid out of you so he could move to your side, rolling onto his back. You both laid there in silence, catching your breath. That was intense as hell.

“Well, I could brag but…that’s damn well never happened before,” Dean remarked. 

Your head turned towards him as you bit your lip. A giggle bubbled in your throat, and escaped.

He fought a smile, but your laughter was infectious. He covered his eyes with a hand. 

So you rolled and leaned over him. You hesitated for just a moment, then you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, with purpose. Dean dropped his hand and kissed you back with a more hesitant tenderness, even though his guilt was setting in. He realized what he was doing, and it was exactly what he’d wanted to avoid. 

Getting close to you. Because soon he was going to have to leave. He and Sam had a job to do, and no matter how much this meant to him (and it was a lot more than he was willing to admit), he couldn’t stop now. They had to find John, and kill the demon that killed their mother. 

He just didn’t have the heart to tell you. Not yet, and not now…

You distracted him when you dropped a kiss onto his chest. Then your hands started to survey the canvas before you. Dean had to take a breath as your fingers drew delicate patterns over his skin, all while your mouth drifted lower and lower down his sternum.

“Where’re you goin’?” he asked, with a laugh when your fingers grazed his sides. He flinched, stifling a laugh, and gave you a warning look. “Hey.”

No tickling.

You gave a noncommittal hum that he felt on his skin. After your gaze briefly flicked up to his, you smiled and continued your downward exploration.

The truth was, you were an incurable early bird. 

The next morning was no exception. Though you were still tired, your mind was already buzzing as soon as you noticed Dean sleeping next to you. You smiled at the fact that he was still here, that he looked more boyish in his sleep, and that he was snoring lightly. 

You wanted to let him sleep, so when an idea occurred to you, you slipped out of bed. Once you were freshened up and changed into some acceptable pajama pants and a shirt, you crept downstairs and headed for the kitchen.

By the time you felt his presence through your soul bond, you were sipping a cup of coffee while you flipped a set of pancakes over the stove. 

“Morning,” you heard his voice just next to your ear, deep and a bit gravely with sleep. The timbre of it caused a sweet tingle to run down your spine. You looked over your shoulder and grinned at his fuzzy bedhead. You raised a hand back to sort through his hair while his hands found the familiar curve of your waist. 

“Morning, sleepy,” you replied, welcoming him with a kiss on the cheek. 

Dean gave a deep hum instead of answering. He wasn’t totally awake yet. You pointed to the three waiting mugs next to the coffee pot. 

“Coffee’s over there. Give me a few minutes and this’ll be ready.” You gestured to the pancakes with your spatula. 

Instead of going for the coffee, he went for your neck, pressing his lips just below your ear. He inhaled and let his thumbs drag against your skin, beneath your shirt. It was distracting, to say the least. 

“Looks good. Smells real good,” he said. You felt his lips move against your skin, and it made your face start to heat up. You tried to not be so affected by him (and not play into his game so you didn’t burn the food). You leaned over to grab some more cinnamon.

“I like to cook,” you admitted. 

“A big plus for me,” he said. He didn’t mind cooking, but if those pancakes actually did taste as good as they smelled, then he’d won the lottery with you for sure.

“I also like to eat,” you informed him. Food was life, after all.

Dean smirked and purposefully ran his hands down over your hips and butt. Your skin heated up further as you remembered the way he touched you last night, the strength and the nimble talent in his hands. 

“I like a girl that can keep up with me,” he said. Queue a soft slap to your ass.

You yelped indignantly. You had to be flushing scarlet by now; you weren’t used to being touched and appreciated by someone like Dean, who looked and carried himself like almost any woman’s wet dream.    

“Excuse me, I’m trying to do something nice for you,” you said with a slightly nervous laugh. “You’re ruining my concentration here.”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he said. Meanwhile, his hands slid back up under your shirt. His fingers teased the sides of your breasts, making your breath hitch. You found yourself leaning back against his chest and letting him ruin what little means of focus you had left. You even felt the shape of his smile as he trailed more warm kisses along your shoulder. 

Then you both heard someone clear their throat. 

Sam was in the kitchen doorway, smiling, but also awkward and hesitating. “Morning.”

Bobby wasn’t far behind him. He leveled one assessing look at you and Dean and sighed. 

“Aw hell. Just don’t burn breakfast, ya idjits.”

You and Sam chatted all through breakfast—mostly about school experiences and books you both had read for various classes. Dean ate in relative silence, but he enjoyed seeing you two getting along. 

Of course, the peace just couldn’t last. 

“So,” Bobby asked you. “When do you plan to tell your dad about this?”

He gestured with a finger to you and Dean. You gave Dean a questioning look, but he just shrugged. 

“Up to you,” he said. You sighed.

“Today,” you decided. “I’ll talk to him today.”

But that was like a splash of cold water for Dean. Because when he met Sam’s eyes across the table, he knew his brother was remembering the same thing: they had a job to do. 

Dean followed you upstairs while you got ready for the day. Every step felt a bit more torturous.

“Would you come with me to talk to my dad?” you asked him while you gathered some clothes before your shower. 

“Sure…but hey, I need to talk to you for a sec,” he said. He took your hand and guided you to sit down next to him on the edge of the bed. You were curious, and he felt a bit of your concern too.

There really was no easy way to say this…

“I need to leave soon,” said Dean. First, it was your shock. Then your confusion started to build. 

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “It’s…for my job. There are some things I have to take care of.”

“How long?” you asked. 

Dean sighed. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“Then try,” you pressed. Your voice hardened, and Dean sensed that you were getting suspicious.

“It could be a while—”

“Why?”

“…Look, Sam and I have been hunting something big. It’s been a thing in my family…well, pretty much since the beginning,” Dean tried to explain. He didn’t want you to have to know all the gorey specifics. Where the hell would he even begin? 

But then you started to withdraw from him. You took your hand back and your gaze fell away.

“Maybe I should’ve seen this coming,” you said. “I just…”

You sighed and fought against the way your eyes burned. “I guess I was wrong about what this was.”

Dean felt the downwards spiral of your thoughts and frowned. A small alarm bell triggered in his mind as his spine tightened.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” he asked. 

You looked over at him, both upset and disappointed. “We were together one night and now you’re leaving. You said you wouldn’t play me, but I guess you got me good. This was just a pit stop for you.”

Dean grabbed your hand again before you could get up and leave him. His frown deepened in frustration and anger. 

“You’re not hearin’ me. That’s not what this this,” he denied. 

“Then what am I supposed to think, Dean?” you snapped. “You’re trying to pull a hit and run on me!”

“Okay, stop. Hold on,” Dean said. He pulled you down from the metaphorical rafters with both hands grasping yours. 

He hesitated, but at this point, he had no choice. If he didn’t tell you what was going on, he had a feeling he would lose whatever fragile trust he had built with you. And whatever you two were doing here would crumble into nothing.

Dean wanted you to be safe…but he also didn’t want you to hate him. 

So he told you everything. Starting with the house fire when he was five, his mom’s death, the Yellow Eyed demon that killed her, his dad’s quest for vengeance, and now his recent disappearance. The demon had been eluding John Winchester for years, but now, he seemed to be finally getting close. Sam and Dean just needed to find their dad and help him kill it.

You took all of this in—first in silent contemplation and sadness for him, then in eagerness.

“Well, can I help in any way?” you asked. Dean was shaking his head before you even finished.

“No,” he said firmly. “The way you can help me is staying safe. You’ve got school to finish, a job. You’ve got a life here.”

You frowned, and it only deepened the more Dean spoke.

“To keep you that way, I’ve gotta go for now,” he said. “I just…may not be back for a while.”

With a sinking feeling of his own, he felt your emotions twist and battle for dominance: disappointment, anger, confusion, sadness…

“I don’t understand why it has to be like this,” you said. Tears pooled in your eyes, but you looked away from him again. It broke his heart, really. It also surprised him just how quickly you’d gotten under his skin. In a good way. In a real way…

But in this, he wouldn’t waver.

“Look…my mom wasn’t the only one,” Dean said. “This thing, this demon, it killed Sam’s girlfriend, Jess. Just a few months ago.”

That earned your attention with a shocked look. Your expression melted into sadness. “Oh my God. Was she his…?”

“No,” Dean shook his head. Jess hadn’t been Sam’s soulmate. “But…he’s wrecked. They’d dated through most of college.”

“How did she die?” you asked. Dean wished you hadn’t. He really didn’t want to go there, but you weren’t going to let it go. He didn’t need to sense your emotions to understand that obstinate look on your face.

“She was pinned to the ceiling and burned to death,” he said, “just like my mom.”

You covered a gasp behind your hand. Tears once again flooded in your eyes.

“I’m going to protect you,” Dean promised. He squeezed your hand, and you covered it with your free one.

“Okay, thank you,” you said. “But what about you? I’m worried about what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I can handle it,” he said. He had lived this life for a long time. 

“And what if something happens to you?” you asked. 

Dean didn’t have a good answer for you. Plenty enough had happened to him so far. 

His heart sank when you slipped out of his grasp, got up, and left him alone in your bedroom.

You only allowed yourself to cry when you were by yourself in the shower. You already cared about Dean, a lot, and this was an intense first test of your relationship. If it even was a relationship.

More selfishly, you couldn’t help but think that you’d finally found what you wanted, and it was about to fly out of your reach. It’s not fair.

But that just brought you back to worrying about Dean. In fact, you were scared to death. 

Keep it together, you tried to remind yourself. If you weren’t careful, Dean would feel all of your emotions and hear your thoughts. You didn’t want him to think you were this clinging, needy thing…

���Hey,” Dean called out. He was in the bathroom with you, and you hadn’t even sensed him coming this time. 

“…Can I come in?” he asked. 

Part of you wanted to refuse out of spite, but in the end, you just couldn’t do it. You pulled back the shower curtain and told him to come in. 

He undressed and joined you in the shower. It was a bit cramped, but at the moment you didn’t care. He propped a finger beneath your chin and raised your face up to his. Then he kissed you. 

It reminded you of that first one you shared last night—first just a brush of lips, then a deeper taste, and then an all-consuming kiss that had him pulling your naked body flush against his. 

When your lips eventually parted from his, you pressed your forehead against his chest and couldn’t help crying. 

You felt pitiful. It wasn’t like he was going off to war. You would see him again…you just didn’t know when.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His hold was comforting, and so were his heavy hands stroking your back. “This is what I was trying to avoid. But I’m not gonna put you in danger…I just can’t.”

You both heard and felt the emotion in his voice. After remembering everything he’d just told you about his past, your compassion for him grew.

So you looked up at him. “We…we’ll make it work.”

Dean hesitated, but then he nodded in agreement.

We’ll make it work.

AN: Sorry for all that angst at the end, but yay for finally getting spicy!~ Let me know what you think!

To keep reading: PART 8

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[caramelcum]

I read a fic once where Dean and Cas fuck after Dean finally goes to heaven and like…yeah it was hot or whatever who cares but…..it started with Dean driving around Heaven in his Impala and then Cas suddenly appearing in the driver’s seat shouting, “TETANUS?!?!?! REALLY?!?!!! AFTER EVERY THING, YOU LET IT BE A RUSTY FUCKING POLE?!?!?!”

And like, pop off, hotwings. You’re so right. That ending was dumb as hell.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Too Many Beds

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist 

summary: you want nothing more than an excuse to sleep next to dean again

pairing: (pre-s1/s1) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 2.1k 

warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, kissing, mutual pining, idiots in love, brief mention of the death of reader’s dad

timeline: starts slightly before season one, ends near the beginning of season one

author’s note: a spin on the classic 'just one bed, what ever shall we do?' trope lol

You’d known Dean all your life, practically. You met him when you were six and he was eight; two lonely little kids stuck with absent (job-driven) fathers and baby brothers you felt responsible for. Over the course of the last eighteen-or-so years you ran into the Winchesters during hunts enough that you considered them family. 

When Sam left for college you were there for Dean and when you lost your dad in a hunting accident Dean was there for you. He actually stayed with you, not wanting you to hunt alone since your brother was off at college too.

So, for the last six months you’d been hunting with Dean (who hadn’t spoken to Sam for over a year).

“One room, two queens,” Dean said to the woman behind the counter, placing “his” credit card on the space between them before sliding it toward her.

“We’re all booked up I’m afraid,” she said.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I was actually about to turn on the no vacancy sign.”

“This is the third motel we’ve been to,” you said, “every one of them has been full—you’ve gotta have something!”

“I mean, there’s technically one room left but the heater’s out and my boss said not to let anyone sleep there because of that.”

There was a silent pause; you and Dean shared a knowing look.

“We’ll pay in cash, your boss ‘ll never know,” you told the woman. She smiled and nodded as you paid her with cash. 

“Room 209, my boss gets here at ten tomorrow morning so please leave before then.” She handed you the key and you nodded in thanks.

You had underestimated just how cold the room could be, but when you unlocked and opened the door you understood why the owner didn’t want anyone staying here.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled, following you into the room and feeling the cold air. “We’re gonna freeze our asses off in here!” he quickly closed the door behind him, hoping the icy air hadn’t swept any snow into the room.

“It’s either this or we sleep in the Impala,” you shrugged, “and, no offense to your car, but it’s fuckin’ uncomfortable to sleep in.”

“And there’s only one bed,” Dean sighed.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you told him, ignoring his complaints. 

**

“Are you shivering or crying?” Dean asked.

You rolled over so you could meet his stare; “Shivering! It’s fuckin’ cold in here!”

“You wanna…cuddle up, maybe?” he asked hesitantly.

“Excuse me?” you laughed a little.

“Look, I’m not thrilled about it either, but it’s cold in here and unless we both wanna catch fucking pneumonia we better be smart and share body heat.”

You sighed, weighing your options; “Fine. But we never, and I mean never speak of this again, you hear me?”

“Understood.” He nodded.

You rolled back over as he scooted closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.

“This okay?” he asked quietly, his lips ghosting the back of your head.

“Yeah,” you mumbled back. “Thank you, Dean.”

**

You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring loudly. You were used to his snores, sure, but he’d never been this close. He was laying on his stomach and resting on your chest; his mouth open and his hair tickling your neck. Your first reaction was annoyance but then it quickly washed away as you realized you didn’t want to move a muscle, so Dean could continue sleeping. 

And the more you laid there, listening to his snores, the more you realized how comfortable you were…even in such a physically uncomfortable situation. 

As the time passed and the sun began to rise, you cursed the light that was slowly but surely peeking through the curtain and onto Dean’s face. 

“Morning,” he mumbled to you as he lifted his head up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand before wiping his mouth. “Sorry,” he chuckled, noticing the small spot on your gray sweater dampened with his drool.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled back. “I think it’s your sweater anyway.”

“I thought it looked familiar.”

He rolled off of you and out of bed. 

You watched as he padded across the dirty carpet and over to the small kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and the loud, off putting grinding noise made his face scrunch before he quickly shut off the (definitely broken) machine.

“So much for coffee,” he grumbled. “You gonna sit there all morning or you wanna get outta here? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“I’m getting up,” you replied. You would usually be annoyed at him for rushing you to wake up, but this time the annoyance was…different. Something about his bedhead, the way his lips were pouting over the lack of caffeine, and how he looked in his brown Henley and baggy sweats just made you wanna hold him again. All you wanted was to pull him back into bed with you and hold him in your arms forever.

**

You were beyond frustrated at this point. How many stupid fucking hotels had to have vacant rooms with two beds and a functional heating system!? 

It had been nearly six months since you and Dean shared a bed and you had been looking for an excuse to sleep next to him ever since. 

But the last couple weeks had been different—Sammy was back. Yes, you loved Sam like a brother, but you missed getting to be alone with Dean. You missed sitting shotgun in the Impala and watching him drive.

Sam definitely noticed the way you looked at Dean, but the younger Winchester didn’t say a word. Without being too obvious about it, he tried to do little things that would let you be close to his brother. He’d sit in a certain chair or part of the couch so that you and Dean had no choice but to sit together. Or he’d make some lame excuse so that he got his own room while you and Dean had to share. “I need to do some more research and I need the light, why don’t you two just sleep in the other room?” for example. 

**

“Two rooms, please,” Dean said, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet.

“Unfortunately we’ve only got one room left,” the cashier replied. 

You almost couldn’t believe your ears, fucking finally!

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you faked your best frustrated look, of course Sam saw right through that.

“Well, I am not sharing with either or you,” he said with a teasing smile. 

“There’s actually a pullout couch in that room, as luck would have it,” the cashier informed the three of you. 

God fucking damn it, you thought to yourself.

**

It was barely after two when you felt the bed behind you dip, and you shook yourself awake. 

“The hell?” you asked, still half asleep.

“The pullout couch isn’t working,” Dean mumbled quietly. “You mind sharing with me?”

You smiled a little and scooted closer into his arms, indicating you were okay with him sleeping next to you.

“Of course I don’t mind sharing with you,” you whispered and his grip tightened.

**

“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Sam announced. “I’m assuming you want your usual?”

Dean put his right pointer finger to his lips and furrowed his brows angrily. He gestured to you as you slept and Sam got the message. 

“Usual is good,” Dean whispered before Sam left.

Dean stayed laying perfectly still as you slept on his chest, soft snores escaping your lips and to Dean they were the sweetest sound. 

As you stirred awake slowly, he rubbed your back a little.

“Morning,” you mumbled, a small smile on your lips. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went to grab breakfast,” Dean told you. 

You furrowed your brows as you sat up, looked across the room, and realized something; “The pullout bed looks fine? I thought you said it wasn’t working?” You turned back to Dean, who had a sheepish grin growing on his lips.

“So…maybe I’ve just been looking for an excuse to sleep next to you again. Like we did back in that motel when the heat was out.”

“Really?” You attempted to hide the smile trying to find its way onto your face. 

“When we were checking in last night I noticed how your face lit up when they said there was only one room left,” Dean admitted. “And I saw that disappointed look you made when they said there was a pullout couch. So, am I wrong, or have you been wanting an excuse too?”

“I really liked sleeping next to you that night,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “And you’re right, I have been hoping for another ‘oh no just one bed, guess we’ll have to share’ situation but…”

“But what?” Dean asked when you trailed off. You looked down at him. 

“Dean, you and Sam have been like my brothers for as long as I can remember. I mean, Bobby practically raised all three of us and my actual brother as siblings! Your dad and my dad knew each other basically forever and I guess…I guess I figured our lives are too entangled for anything to ever actually happen between us. We’re family.”

“Chosen family, Y/n.” Dean smiled softly. “Doesn’t mean you have to be my chosen sister, you could be my chosen…you know…” 

You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his full lips. 

“That,” Dean finished his previous statement. 

“Let’s just keep this between us for now, okay?” you suggested. “If Sam finds out, then your dad will find out, and he’ll immediately tell my brother, then before we know it Bobby—”

“I get the picture, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled before kissing you again. He put his hands on your cheeks as he sat up. He pulled you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. His hands moved to your shoulders then trailed down to your lower back as yours went into his hair. You pulled away from him after a moment, huge smiles on both your faces.

You looked into his eyes, his truly beautiful eyes, and you bit your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your right hand rested on his left cheek, your thumb stroking his skin lovingly. 

“You’re awesome, Dean Winchester,” you whispered. 

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he replied before he kissed you again. “And gorgeous, too,” he added. “You know how fuckin’ annoying it’s been, sleeping without you every night since that one time?”

“I do know, Dean, I’ve been just as annoyed about it.”

Dean kissed you one more time before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, tucking his head into your neck. You wrapped your arms around him too, pressing your lips to his temple.

You pulled out of the hug so you could once again look at his face. Resting your forehead on his, you smiled before you kissed him again. 

“Breakfast,” Sam called out as he opened the door, “is served!”

You and Dean froze for a split second before you hurried off of him.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, “did I interrupt you two?”

“What?” you scoffed. “Of course not!”

“Interrupt? There’s nothing to interrupt?” Dean added.

“Oh…wow you two are fast,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen before putting the food down. “Well, pancakes, eggs, and bacon from the continental breakfast.” He gestured to the food now on the table. “Hope you’re hungry.”

As Sam sat down to eat, you looked at Dean anxiously. Say something you begged him with your eyes.

“Sammy,” Dean started as he got out of bed, “would you mind uh…not telling dad? About me and Y/n…kissing just now? When we find him, I mean.”

“Dad’s never really been invested in your love life, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam laughed. 

“So…you are gonna tell him?” Dean furrowed his brows in frustration.

“Dean, he knows you two are together, it’s not some big secret?” Sam replied, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Damn that’s good.”

“Okay, just hold on—what?” Dean asked. “What do you mean dad knows? There’s been nothing to know since like four minutes ago?”

“Wait,” Sam stopped eating and fully turned to face you and his brother, “are you trying to tell me this is the first time you two have kissed?” Sam furrowed his brows deeply as you and Dean both nodded. “So…never in high school?” You shook your heads again. “That prom we crashed?”

“Sam you were there the whole time? When would we have kissed?” you asked.

“Huh,” Sam let out a laugh. “I genuinely thought you two had been a thing since like… ‘98.”

“What!?” you and Dean exclaimed in unison.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— i believe in a thing called love

SUMMARY : dean thinks you’re playing a game but he slowly realises you’re not. 

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), unprotected piv, oral (f. receiving), fingering, edging, praise kink?, horniness 

WORD COUNT : 4.2k

A/N : title from a song by the darkness. this fills the square amnesia for my @jacklesversebingo card.  I’m sorry yall, I like cliffhangers 😔 (but there’s a part two coming, yay!)

You don’t remember ever waking up to a more warm and pleasant morning.

Usually, you woke up after sleeping however many hours you could have, and always felt like it wasn’t enough. Your eyes burned with sleepiness, your body felt heavy with fatigue, and your mind was clouded with the darkness of unconsciousness.

Not this morning.

You felt light and warm, like the vapour of your too-hot shower. Your bed was soft and your sheets smelled of sweet and flowery fabric softener. 

You opened your eyes to a room blanketed in complete darkness. There was not a window in sight for sunlight to slither into and your stomach sank slightly when you realised that you didn’t know where you were. Or how you got to where you were now.

Your nakedness beneath soft, thin sheets made you feel vulnerable. You pulled the sheets up your body and started to get out of bed, only for the sheets to catch on something. No, on someone. A man who groaned gravelly and slightly tugged the sheets away from you.

Your eyes widened, your blood went cold with fear, and your body became hot with adrenaline. You froze as you thought of what to do and looked around to see if you could make any shapes while the darkness smothered you. 

“Come back to bed, sweetheart,” he pleaded lazily, his voice thick with sleep making your skin prickle. He gave the blanket a lazy tug to encourage you, but you ignored him. You didn’t know him, the audacity. You simply released the blanket and blindly made your way around the room for clothes that you must have left somewhere. 

You heard him sigh tiredly, the blankets rustled when he shifted, and the room lit up with the quiet click of a lamp’s switch and you yelped when you saw him, equally naked, in the bed. He sat up in alarm and looked around, before just staring at you in confusion.

His hair was a mess and he looked tired… but hot. His arms were thick and strong. His shoulders were broad and a familiar tattoo rested above his heart, beneath his collarbone. He wasn’t ripped like someone who was obsessed with going to the gym and dieting. He was so damn fine. The thin blankets came lower down his hips when he sat up inquisitively. His stomach became taut and you could see the faint lines of his abs. At least you slept with someone hot and not some creep. Well… he could still be a creep.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” He moved the blankets from his hips, subsequently flashing you his dick, when he began to get up and make his way to you.

“No, stop!” You shouted, covering your eyes before deciding to cover yourself instead. He instantly obeyed and froze on the spot, bewildered. “Cover your eyes,” you demanded exasperatedly.

“What? Why?” He asked, but he still covered his eyes with his hand. But who could blame you for quickly stealing a glance at his very pretty cock? “Did you start your period? You’re not due for another two weeks.” You blinked at him, astonished and disoriented.

“Uhhh, what? How do you even know that, dude?” You flushed with embarrassment.

“Dude?” He lowered his hand to give you an irritated look. The only reason you didn’t shout at him to look away was that he wasn’t staring at you like you were a piece of cake. “It’s way too early for jokes.” He shook his head at you and turned around to sift through the tall dresser behind him. Your eyes hesitantly dropped to his perky ass and you forced yourself to look away before he turned to you.

Forgive me. I am just human.

“Where’s my damned clothes?” You asked, leaning forward over the bed to drag the blanket towards yourself to cover up. He turned with a deadpan expression while he slipped his boxers up to his hips. But when you lifted your brows expectantly, he rolled his eyes at you and smiled sarcastically, flourishing his arms in front of the dresser.

He was kind enough to pull out a black shirt that looked like it was his, then pink women's underwear, and finally some colourfully striped socks. He handed them to you, but you backed away.

“No, I’m not wearing that,” you refused, looking disgustedly at the cotton underwear and the small socks. 

“It’s yours,” he told you flatly.

“What do you mean it’s mine?” 

He blinked at you boredly and dropped the clothes on the bed to cross his arms across his very sexy broad chest. “Alright. How long are you gonna keep this up?”

“I… uh, what?” 

He smiled slowly and climbed up on the bed to get closer to you. Once he did, he reached for your waist and tugged you forward. Your heart thudded heavily in your chest and you clutched the blanket closer to your breasts. Even standing on his knees in the bed, he was taller than you. 

“What game are you playin’ at, hmm?” He asked seductively, gently squeezing your side. Your lips parted slightly and your heart raced. 

You studied his face, captivated by his beauty. The crinkles at the corner of his verdant eyes called to you when he smiled down at you. You could see he was doing the same. His eyes followed a path along your face until they landed on your lips. You couldn’t help following the same path on his own with your eyes. After letting your eyes drift across the curve of his freckled nose, the line of his jaw, and the attractive stubble, your eyes fell to his pillowy lips.

His hand moved to your jaw. He looked playful and your heart sped up the longer he admired you. His calloused hand gently slid up your jawline to tangle his fingers in your hair until finally, he dipped down and kissed you. His lips felt soft against your slightly-chapped lips, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

His mouth moved lazily, yet expertly over yours. Your stomach fluttered and your breath hitched. As simple as it was, it felt amazing. His lips on yours sent waves of need and excitement through your body, electrifying your skin. 

He clouded your mind with his kiss and your mouth slowly fell open. He cupped the back of your head in his hand and tilted his head, slowly becoming more firm and needy. Your hand released the sheet from your body and your hands found their way into his soft brown hair. He hummed lowly in appreciation and splayed his free hand across the bare skin of your back.

He carefully removed his hand from your hair, then you felt his hands move to the back of your thighs. He broke the kiss momentarily, his breath against your swollen lips made you dizzy as he hoisted you up. You clung to him, dazed and aroused, and he carefully dropped you into the bed again.

His knees parted your legs. You could feel your arousal dripping down as you were exposed to the room’s cool air. He almost instantly pressed his hips to your wet core. You could feel the warmth of his hard cock against your pulsing clit. You moaned softly and he gave you a charming smile that heated your cheeks in response. 

He leaned down to kiss you again. This time, his tongue pushed past your lips. The warmth and wetness of his saliva moved against your tongue. He did it as if he’d done a thousand times to you—shamelessly, with craving. 

His lips moved passionately, firmly against yours. His tongue brushed over yours needily, lovingly. He tasted you with hunger and pulled away with heavy breaths, ignoring the string of spit connecting your lips to his. 

He leaned forward again, except this time—when you closed your eyes—you felt his lips brush against your cheeks. His warm breath tickled your neck and ear, so shivers trickled through your body. 

You squirmed beneath him and wiggled your hips longingly.

“I’m gonna make you come so hard on my tongue, baby,” he whispered. You cursed softly. Your cunt clenched with excitement at the thought of him doing to your pussy, what he’d done to your mouth. You almost didn’t feel him press wet kisses down your neck until he sucked gently at your pulse.

He moved down your body slowly. Used his teeth, tongue, and lips on your flesh to hold you in his spell. He did it so precisely, fanning the embers to create a fire of desire that overwhelmed your body with lust. 

His lips brushed against your nipple and your heart lurched. Heat pooled between your legs, followed by a warm wetness that you somehow knew would boost his ego. 

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” he whispered against your breast before gently sinking his teeth around your nipple. His fingers pinched the other. How he expected you to respond was unclear as he teased your sensitive skin with his expert tongue and strummed at your flesh like a professional guitarist. 

“How did I end up here?” You replied quietly, carding your fingers through his short hair. He chuckled softly at your response, moved on from one breast to the other. His saliva on your abandoned nipple enhanced the coldness of the room, causing your skin to tingle. 

His laugh was a whole other thing. Hot and deep. Everything about him seemed to be that way. Hot and deep.

His hand sneaked down to your ribs, your stomach, and stayed there. Warm, heavy, huge, and calloused. One hell of a man. You bet he could choke you with one hand. 

You moaned softly at the thought and squeezed his sides with your thighs in attempts to alleviate your desire. It was futile, but you had a feeling that’s how he wanted you. He smirked against your breast, you could feel the stretch of a smile on his sinful lips, and he finally moved on.

“You’re so desperate today, aren’t ya?” Amusement seeped into his voice, but there was nothing amusing about the way his hand finally moved between your legs. He slid his middle finger through your folds, slowly teasing your clit with ghostly touches. “Always so wet, baby, fuck,” he moaned against your hipbone. 

“Please,” you whined, clutching his hair tighter. He sucked a lavender mark on your hips and slid his lips down to your pelvis.

“Yeah?” He teased with a smirk. You loosened your grip on his hair, just slightly. His green eyes sparkled up at you, but all you could really focus on was his finger turning to two fingers that quickly dipped into your entrance to gather your excessive slick. “Fuck.” Oh, God. No one should sound so hot saying that word, but your stomach seemed to flip excitedly when it sounded so pleased. “Look at that, sweetheart. You’re soaked, it’s gonna be so easy for me to fuck you.”

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered, your toes curled with excitement. 

He parted your folds with his fingers and lowered himself to level his mouth with your dripping cunt. His warm breath on your wet heat made you squirm and your legs shamelessly opened wider for him. The Pied Piper of sex.  

His eyes fluttered shut when he kissed your clit. You don’t think anyone’s ever done that to you before. To be fair, you can’t remember much and you don’t know if it’s because of his intoxicating sensuality or because of something much more serious. Quite frankly, you didn’t care as he continued to kiss you down to your clenching entrance with hums of appreciation vibrating through your desperate core.

“Please,” you laughed breathily, weakly attempting to pull his face closer between your legs. He perked up even more at that, and flicked his tongue against your clit, perfectly striking a nerve like a chord that resonated through your entire body and made you quiver. 

He flattened his tongue from your aching pussy to your clit, slowly and loudly savouring the taste of your arousal on his tongue. He did it over and over before settling for lapping at your entrance where your arousal puddled. His moans were husky and praising.

You gently weaved your fingers through his hair and panted heavily. His nose nudged at your pulsing clit and his tongue pushed into your fluttering pussy. 

“Fuck, please,” you whimpered, tightening your grip on the hair at the top of his head. He hummed against your core and roughly licked his way up to your clit. Quick flicks of his tongue on your clit made you writhe with pleasure. Curses slipped from your lips and all you could think about was the sensation of how wet your pussy was with his spit and how close to coming you were again.

You felt one of his fingers slowly push inside your cunt. He worked you open carefully with one thick finger plunged deep inside you and simultaneously began to suck on your clit. Your body became tense; you were right on the edge of your orgasm, but he moved away from your aching cunt to quickly kiss his way up your flushed body, to reach your lips. 

“I wanna come,” you pleaded quietly, staring profoundly into his greedy eyes. 

He chuckled playfully at you and slowly pushed a second finger inside you. His breath fanned over your lips and you traced the slick of your pussy on his smug mouth with your eyes. He stroked your walls slowly, skilfully pressing the pads of his fingers into the sensitive depths of your cunt. You clamped down in desperation for him to press over and over into your g-spot, but he wasn’t merciful. He wanted you to feel the length of his fingers moving deeply inside you. 

“Say my name,” he murmured against your lips. You squeezed his hips with your knees as you squirmed restlessly. Again, he made you delirious with pleasure after a request so you could do anything but properly think. He angled his fingers into that delicious spot inside you, but the buildup of your climax was as torturously slow as the stroke of his fingers. 

“Your name?” You gasped mindlessly, closing your eyes to focus on feeling him being in all the right places. His lips brushed against yours, ignited your body like a spark to hot-wire a car. His thumb pressed gently into your clit and he slowly drew circles. 

“Dean,” he whispered bewitchingly against your lips. You felt his arm press into the pillow beside your head and he tenderly brushed your hair away from your neck. 

“Dean,” you moaned—begged, heart hammering in your chest at his tenderness. His response was instant, with his lips pressed against yours, numbing your mind once more, but a third finger slid into your pussy so you nearly toppled off the edge again. After a few thrusts that left you moaning wantonly against Dean’s mouth, his fingers disappeared from inside you. “God,” you cursed in irritation.

Soon, the entirety of his warmth was gone from your body. His bruising kiss left you breathless and thoughtless, but you managed to open your eyes to watch him lower his boxers with his thumb hooked at the stretchy waistband—leaving himself completely bare again. 

Dean bit his lip as he stroked his cock with his fingers coated in your slick. He seemed more than happy to have you watch. And you were more than happy with staring at the girth and length of him in his hand. His cock was pretty, beautiful even—if you could even imagine. Throbbing. Leaking precum at the tip so your mouth watered for a lewd long moment. You bit your lip and wondered what he tasted like—hopefully as good as he looked, how he’d fuck your mouth if you asked him to.

The sight of him like this made your arousal skyrocket. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asked breathlessly, slowly making his way closer between your legs. 

The thought of his cock stretching you out instantly drove you crazy. 

Once he was close enough, he leaned over you again with his arm beside your head again. He slid his hot cock through your folds and your breath caught in your throat. He moaned softly. You tore your eyes from where he coated you in his precum repeatedly. 

“I want you… inside me,” you replied bashfully, heat flared up to your ears and you squirmed involuntarily—desperate to be fucked as you ruined the sheets beneath you with your slick. But over and over he teased your clit with slippery circles of his tip that began to build your resolve. He wasn’t going to let you finish and you knew it. 

“Which part of me?” Of course he’d do that. 

You became frustrated quickly and remained quiet to think of your next move. Dean had taken you to a point where your confidence was merely pent up sexual frustration.

You sat up and climbed into his lap without a single thought. As shamelessly as he’d touched you, you gripped the base of his cock. His lips parted and his eyes widened in pleasant surprise when you took his chin between your fingers and kissed him hard. He gave you full control and released his dick so his hands could find your hips instead and pull you closer. 

He felt heavy in your hand, the throb and heat of him made your grip tighten in anticipation. He moaned against your mouth when you slowly stroked up his silky skin, slick with his precum. You thumbed at the slit, smeared his excitement around the head of his cock, and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.

Dean groaned softly and squeezed your hip. He slowly let himself lay on his back and pulled you down with your lips still locked in a breathy and covetous kiss. You twisted your hand upwards, faster, and emphasised the movement of your fingers beneath the head of his cock. He pulled away slightly with a gasp and found his place between your legs to run a teasing finger through your drenched folds. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard… wanna bury myself inside of you,” he murmured against your lips. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped instantly against his parted mouth, “yes.”

Dean kissed you hard and replaced your hand on his cock with his own again. He pulled away to catch his breath with you. Using his other hand, he brushed your hair out of the way and continued to pant for breath. He watched between your bodies, his throbbing cock in his hand, but you only watched him—curiously and longingly. He stroked himself slowly and he cursed under his breath when the tip finally breached the wet opening of your vagina.

Your breath hitched, but his name managed to slip out quietly. He hummed in satisfaction when you slowly lowered yourself on him. The delightful stretch of having him inside you weakened your knees and your pussy tightened around him. He thrusted upwards slowly, sliding his cock further into your wet heat, perfectly stroking your g-spot.

You pulled away a small distance and watched him become utterly enraptured. His freckled cheeks were tainted a deep red that spread up to the tips of his ears and down to his neck like a wildfire. He looked so fucking beautiful. His brows furrowed in concentration and his plush lips parted to release soft groans of pleasure that made your pussy throb around him greedily. 

His eyes fluttered open and he leaned up slightly to reach your lips. He managed to land a small peck before you started lifting yourself up and down on his cock. A broken moan from him made you smile devilishly. He fell back into the mattress and squeezed your hips roughly.

“Dammit, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he praised breathily. You hummed softly and wrapped your hands around his wrists to guide his hands up to your breasts before bouncing on his lap faster, building a more steadfast rhythm. 

“I love the way you feel, too,” you moaned softly, aroused at the sound of Dean’s cock entering your wet pussy and your skin hitting his when he was buried so deeply inside you the breath was nearly punched out of your lungs in surprise. 

“You’re so unbelievably beautiful,” he continued to worship quietly, pinching almost painfully at your nipples, then teasingly brushed the pads of his thumbs over them—maybe soothingly. You moaned and leaned back with your hands on his thighs the closer you got to your orgasm.

One of Dean’s hands moved away from your breast to slowly slide down the front of your body. You watched him stare up at you, adoring you with his touch and lauding you in between groans and gasps of ecstasy. He squeezed your thigh encouragingly and cursed at the way you clenched your cunt around his sensitive cock. 

You allowed yourself to close your eyes and let the pleasure of riding him saturate your mind and body. His hands moved along your body, praising without words when all he could do was groan and pant lewdly at your enthusiastic fucking. 

He kneaded your breasts, squeezed your flesh, scratched gently at your skin. You were teeming with bliss and you were embarrassingly wet, but everything about him made you pathetically horny and he appeared to absolutely love every second of it. 

Dean’s hand finally moved between your legs to find your clit and rub it continuously. His hips bucked upwards when you whined his name and clamped down on his cock as you orgasmed. Your body shook above him and he hummed low in his throat, partially amused, but mostly satisfied. 

His thumb rubbed furiously at your clit—dilating the duration of your orgasm, intensifying it—and only stopped when you couldn’t handle it anymore. Your whimper and the way you weakly draped your body over his with your forehead pressed into his warm shoulder, stopped him.

You couldn’t process much after that, but soon your face was pressed into his pillow and your pussy was getting filled again with his cock. His fingers bruised your hips and you gasped out moans as your second orgasm began to build. 

"Shit, you love it like this, don't you, sweetheart?" You were flustered by the soppy sound of your cunt every time he pounded into you from behind, but you were partially grateful that he was close to finishing. A perplexing, carnal part of you wanted him to keep ploughing into your pussy until you ached.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl,” Dean praised gruffly. You only whimpered brokenly in response as he fucked you through the squelch and wetness of your second orgasm. Your toes curled with the unbelievable sensation that seized your body when you felt his cum fill you with warmth. His release slipped between your thighs in a mixture with yours and you cried his name as your walls pulsed around his throbbing cock. 

Dean released you and your body sank completely into the soft mattress. He panted against your shoulder and murmured praises with his comforting hands sailing along your body. 

Your mind slowly returned to the real world and the beat of your heart slowed to its normal rhythm. You were exhausted and you wanted to clean yourself up, but Dean had other plans for you: staying in bed and cuddling.

You willed yourself into getting up out of his bed. You sat up—his arm loosely around your waist—and became aware of the lack of windows and the wooden stake that rested at the far end of the little platform—a shelf really—he had above his bed next to a little fan. 

“Um…” you trailed off, wiggling out of his arm to slide out of the messy bed. 

“You’re seriously not gonna stay in bed?” He questioned you as you looked around, attempting to ignore the rest of your mixed release dripping from between your legs. You felt his fingers move between yours, then a sharp tug pulled you back in bed. Your legs were shaky so you ended up right back where he wanted you to be—in his embrace. 

“Yeah,” you laughed awkwardly. You squirmed and wiggled until he finally released you, “I don’t know you and I need to… get back… somewhere, home.” He sat up on his side and stared at you blankly for a few seconds. No, he’s too beautiful. 

You looked away and decided to pull “your” clothes from where he’d thrown it to get something to cover your body now that your post-orgasmic brain was becoming logical and self-conscious. 

“Babe, drop it, we’ll play that game later,” he dismissed you with a cute snort. You groaned at him when he snagged his shirt from your hands. He slowly peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder and you were unable to fight him.

“Dean, I’m serious,” you tried weakly and gripped his hair to pull him away as gently as you could. You turned to look at him again and he backed off. “Look at me and tell me if I’m lying to you.” He rolled his eyes but held your gaze for a few moments as he contemplated you. 

You saw the amusement on his handsome face but you continued to frown. The amusement faded into perplexity and concern. 

“Ah, shit,” he muttered.

—> stone flower

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[flamencodiva]

Reblog

Trouble on a Slow Night

Description: Dean didn't think turning his Baby into a taxi would bring him trouble. Until it did.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1157

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Violence, Protective!Dean Winchester (yes that's a warning because it's hot)

Square Filled: Taxi AU

Requested by: @winchest09

Beta'd by: @wonder-cole

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

A/N: Witten for @spndeanbingo

Dean sighed as he drove his car down the road. It was a rare sight to see a black Impala with a Taxi light on the top, but since Dean had to make extra cash, he had no choice. He fitted his car to transport people and track the best way to make money by installing a meter. For the most part, everything seemed to be ordinary. He got as many customers as he could, and most of them were pretty nice, some drunks from time to time, but overall he hadn’t had any trouble.

It was a usual quiet night. Dean was in Kansas City. It was the best place for a taxi since it had a busy nightlife, nothing like Lebanon, but it helped make him good money if he had to drive people home or the airport. On this particular evening, the last thing Dean ever expected was to run into someone that would change his life forever.

As he waited for a customer, he tried to relax in silence. If he couldn’t drive anyone, he’d have to find a different route to pick people up. But at this time of night, it was almost impossible to find people who would use his services on a Tuesday. He was about to doze off when the back door slammed closed, making him jump.

“Drive,” the voice called urgently.

“Woah,” Dean lifted his hands, “hold on, now,” he turned around and froze for a second, seeing the gorgeous eyes of the woman in his back seat. “I gotta know where you’re going, ma’am.”

“I just need you to drive,” she said urgently. “I’ll pay you whatever it costs. I just--”

She was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot and glass shattering.

“Holy shit,” Dean let out as he began to drive away from the scene.

“After them!” a voice shouted. “She has the documents!”

Dean used the rearview mirror to look at the woman in his back seat.

“Who the fuck did you piss off?” Dean yelled as he sped off in the Impala.

“The less you know, the better,” she let out and reached into her purse. “Here’s 5 grand. Take me as far as you can with this.”

Looking around him, Dean made his way towards the motel room where he was holed up with Y/N, the woman who got into his cab that night. He learned a few things as he stuck with her. There was something about her that made him not want to leave her alone. That and the fact that Sam worked with the DA was a big help. He was sure his brother was going to be involved in this one way or another.

Walking into the room, Dean tilted his head when he saw Y/N packing up.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

“I already troubled you enough,” she said as she turned to face him. “It’s been two months. You have a family and a job. I can’t--”

“Look, I could have left that first night,” Dean let out as he took her bag from her. “But I saw how you were shakin’, and that window I had to fix didn’t sit well with me.” he crossed his arms and leaned on the small table of the room. “Now, you going to tell me the whole story, or am I gonna have to piece it together?”

“I got you in deep enough,” she huffed. “Thank you for getting me in contact with your brother. I’m sure I can make my way to the DA’s office and get into witness protection.”

“All the more reason for me to stick around.” Dean insisted. “That way, I’ll have some peace knowing you’re safe.”

“I already took you away from your work,” she continued to try to grab her bag from him.

“I’m a Taxi driver. I can drive my car with my license anywhere in the state,” Dean huffed. “I’m sticking with you. I can tell you can’t do this alone, so at least let me help.”

Y/N walked into the empty warehouse, the drive she was desperately trying to protect around her neck. Her hand clutching it tightly as if it would protect her from harm.

“See,” a voice said from within the depth of the shadows. “You can follow directions.”

“I was always able to follow directions, Michael,” Y/N snapped back. “I just had the right sense to tell good directions from bad ones.”

“Now, if you want your new boy toy back,” He said, walking into the light dragging a bloodied and beaten Dean, “Then you are going to hand over the drive. No tricks.”

Y/N took a deep breath before she took her steps towards Michael and Dean. Michael had Dean’s mouth taped with duct tape, hands tied behind his back. Y/N took in the injuries Dean sustained. She could see various cuts and bruises on his face and a large bloodstain on his right side.

“Here’s your stupid drive,” Y/N said, pulling the drive from around her neck and holding it out. “Whatever you are doing is not going to help you. It’s only going to make things worse, Michael.”

“That’s what your father said before I killed him,” Michael chuckled. “And yet you don’t seem all that surprised.”

“I found out the night I stole the drive,” Y/N huffed. “I saw all the documents, Michael. Eventually, it’s all going to come back to catch you.”

“Yeah,” Michael said with a shrug, “but not today. See, I’m going to kill Mr. Taxi Driver here, and then you and I are going to hop on a jet to the Caribbean.”

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed, “I don’t think so.”

Michael was about to ask her what she was talking about when Dean broke free of his restraints and tackled him to the ground.

“FBI asshole,” he smirked, “Been chasing you down for a while, Mikey.”

After Michael was carted away by other agents, Y/N walked over to the ambulance where EMTs were tending to Dean’s wounds.

“I guess I owe you and your brother a big thank you,” She said with a smile. “So you were FBI, huh?”

“Your Dad had contacted us before he was murdered,” Dean admitted.

“Still, thank you,” Y/N repeated, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“You know,” Dean said, holding her hand just as she tried to walk away. “We could get to know each other some more. The case is over and well--”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Y/N asked, a smile adorning her face.

“I mean, if you want,” Dean shrugged, his thumb caressing the back of her hand.

“I think I can fit you into my schedule,” Y/N teased.

Dean let out a laugh before groaning in pain. Y/N, of course, fawning over him. Needless to say, it was the start of a great relationship.

Tags in the reblogs

[strawlessandbraless]

How are you Dean?

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️ONE

CHAPTER ONE TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN◾️TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

A chance encounter under the strobe light. Hips swaying to the thumping bass. Dark eyes following her every move. Gazes meeting through the crowd. She came to him. He took her away. Changing her life forever, guiding her into submission.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Noncon/dubcon elements. Roofies. Abduction. Dom/sub dynamic. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 3.9k

A/N: Please remember: This is fiction! As much as I enjoy writing fucked-up characters, this is not real. I do not condone this behavior! Men, be nicer to women! Girls, always check your drinks! Be mindful of strangers, no matter how nice they seem and how hot they look. And be careful what you wish for! So, technically this is a modern AU of my original story Innocence Lost, picks up on some themes, but it's basically just a fucked-up man abducting a girl (it's not stated in the beginning, but she's over 18!) and having fun with her (and then things may escalate a little!). Be mindful of the tags! This may be my darkest piece yet. (Dead dove, do not eat, as they say, right?) Also pretty self-indulgent, but there is some plot between all the filthy smut that is to come, I swear. > There are no names, no physical descriptions other than a size and age difference, so you can imagine any character here! <

ONE 🟥 TWO

Innocent.

She's been innocent, the sweetest little thing he's ever seen. Laughing with her friends, oblivious to her own beauty, blind to the leering stares of every single male around her. And he's been one of them, staring, watching her, looking her up and down as she moved her fragile little body to the beat of the thumping bass, motions contorted and jerky in the strobe light, hair swinging, hips shaking, lips curling into happy smiles.

So innocent.

Probably just a mask, an act. Or maybe she's really been as pure as she looked back then, he'll never know. Because as soon as he's laid his eyes on her, she's been corrupted, tainted by his dark desires. He wanted to corrupt her, ruin her, and he always got what he wanted. He lured her in, kept watching her until she noticed his stares, the darkness in his gaze, the hunger within him. And she came to him, drawn to his mystique, his persistence.

Curious little thing, clueless to the monsters around her.

He smiles at her, rakes his eyes over her body, over that outfit she chose to impress without realizing what might happen, whose attention she might attract. The tight top, squishing those small breasts (pert little nipples standing proud under the shifting breeze of the AC), showing off the flat of her stomach, the flutter of her belly after she's danced her heart out, chest heaving, sweat on her brow, beads rolling down her pale, untouched skin. Slim naked arms holding the drink between her fingers, the soft rattle of cheap jewelry on her wrists, around her neck.

Girly, cute, pure.

And that skirt, mid-thigh, tame when she's standing still, scandalous when she's moving, the fabric flowing around her legs, bending down (bending over), accidentally showing off those cute little panties beneath. Giggling when she realizes her mistake, small hands trying to cover up, but people already saw, and she's aware. She's been aware he saw everything of her. Eager eyes, big and fucking innocent, following his every move.

He takes the drink from her, stares down at her, no longer smiling, and she looks up, chin tilted, so tiny in front of him, innocent, expectant, excited. Putting the glass down, he grabs her wrist, frail cheap jewelry bending under his grip. For a small moment she's hesitant, notices the strength in his fingers, the determination behind the gesture. But she still follows him as he pulls her away from the bar, into the shadows.

How do you break an innocent girl? Show her what's what? What may happen if she steps into the lion's den wearing that skimpy top and maybe-scandalous skirt? So naive. Swinging her hips to the blasting music, bouncing those tiny tits, laughing like nothing else matters, enjoying herself. A little light in the moving darkness. A light he wants to savor before he'll let her burn out.

If she'd be any other girl, he'd have her pinned to the wall, skirt flipped up, panties ripped down, his belt open in seconds before he'd sink his cock into her tight little cunt, to ravage her, ruin her, use her like she's supposed to be used. But she's too pure to be railed against a wall, in the dimly-lit club, for everyone to see.

He still pushes her against the wall, inhaling that little gasp she issues when she hits it, looking up at him, lips parted, eyes wide, gaze blurry, pupils already dilated, the thrill of the encounter and adrenaline of the night (and possibly some drinks she was mysteriously gifted) pumping through her body. Grabbing her face with his big hands, he holds her firmly when he leans closer, takes his time, gives her time to push him away (what a rare treat, girl), but she just stands there, looking at him, a little glint in her eyes, her lips curving up ever so slightly.

She wants this.

And he gives it to her. His lips meet hers, one hand holds her cheek, thumb guiding her chin, while the other hand slips into her hair, fisting it, a tight grip to hold her as he kisses her, a soft beginning, quickly turning rougher, more hungry, desperate. And she kisses him back in the same way, mirrors his motions perfectly. Such a quick learner. Their tongues slide against each other before he pushes deeper, tastes the inside of her mouth, that sweet taste, of some sugary drink and her, so much of her, and it's intoxicating.

So sweet. Innocence oozing from every pore.

He cages her in, pushes her against the wall, feet on either side of hers, knees around her legs, and she's that tiny thing in front of him, standing there, kissing him back, but her body seems frozen, hands at her sides, immobile. Petrified? A doe-eyed thing caught in the headlights? Not for long. His hand moves down to her waist, fingers digging into soft skin, warm and smooth, slipping up under the hem of her shirt, teasing at the little mound beneath.

No bra. Too innocent (and small) to need one.

Her hand comes up then, closing around his wrist, but she's not pulling him away, she's pushing his hand higher until his rough palm closes around her breast. Tiny tits, usually not his preference, but it's cute, that little squishy flesh under his big hand, warm and soft, and the longer he kneads it, the harder her nipple pokes into his palm.

And then she moans into his mouth. His eyelids flutter, and he stares at her, lips hovering over hers, heavy breaths mingling, head spinning, the tension in his stomach making it so hard to keep his composure, to stick to his decision to spare her his usual treatment. He gropes her small tit once more before he pulls his hand back, sliding it down her side, watching her closely.

He grabs her ass cheek harder than intended and leans in to capture her mouth when she yelps quietly in response, swallowing her noises, the thump of the music vibrating through his tense body. In his mind he's already ripped her clothes off, run his hands all over her smooth, untouched skin, fingers pinching her nipples, teasing between her legs, slipping deeper, into her tight innocent warmth –

A grunt escapes him. She's gripping the front of his shirt, her small hands clinging to him while she kisses him back, eagerly, completely lost in the unexpected encounter. Eyes closed, humming against him, body inching closer, searching for his warmth. The hand on her ass pulls her against him, a little thud that makes her mewl into his mouth, before it slips lower, cups her rear, pushes her up, fingers brushing against that little damp piece of fabric, and it's enough to make him hoist her up onto his hip.

Her hands claw at the collar of his shirt while her legs wrap around him almost automatically, conditioned, programmed to submit. A deep-rooted thing she isn't aware of yet. Her pelvis presses into his hipbone as he balances her, back pressed to the wall, both of his hands now on her plump cheeks, holding, groping. He can feel her warmth, that hint of wetness, arousal she's probably confused by.

“I'm gonna take you with me,” he rasps into her neck as he leans in to shower her soft skin with hungry kisses, lips closing around her fluttering pulse, sucking the blood to the surface with a determination that surprises himself.

“What?” she breathes against his cheek, a sweet little sound in his ears, so pure, a soft hum in the atmosphere.

“Don't worry about it,” he mumbles, licking over the bruise he's created on her neck. She shivers in his hold, chest moving against him. He leans back, licking his lips, meeting her curious gaze. “You need another drink,” he says with a smirk. It's not a question.

He sets her down again, grabbing her hand, leaning over to brush his lips over her temple until she looks up at him. Then his other hand is on her chin, holding her as he crashes his mouth against hers for another searing kiss. A little whimper escapes her. She's confused, he can tell, overwhelmed by whatever is happening.

Pulling her towards the bar, he nods to the barkeeper, a gesture often used. She's leaning against him, caged between his hard body and the counter, looking up at him with those big eyes. He smiles down at her, caressing her soft cheek with the back of his finger. He's got her, he knows. She doesn't even care about her friends anymore (and they seem to have forgotten about her too, he can see them dancing on the other side of the room). All she does is look at him, mesmerized.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the bartender sliding the drinks over the counter top. He takes the prepared drink (something sugary with a special ingredient) and hands it to her, then takes the little vodka shot for himself, eyes fixed on her as he clinks the glasses together. She smiles shyly and takes a cautious sip, while he downs the shot in one go, feeling the liquid burning down his throat. The music thumps around them, the air thick and heavy with alcohol and sweat, and a tension that's just between them.

The innocent girl, sipping her drink, staring up at the man, who watches her with a predatory smirk. His hand is heavy on her hip, warm and comforting, holding her in place, thumb rubbing over her fluttering stomach. She finishes the sugary concoction and wipes her mouth, glass empty on the bar. He leans down and brushes his lips against her ear.

“Come with me,” he whispers, and she shivers, her hand finding the front of his shirt again. He steps back, his hands running along her arms until they close around her slim wrists. The bass sits low in his guts, and he can't help but move his body slightly to the music as he leads her backwards. She laughs softly, a little sway to her hips as she follows him. But they leave the dance floor and walk back into the shadows.

He watches her closely, she blinks more, eyelids heavy, lips parted, that cute little tongue out to lick them, once, twice, again, almost obsessively. He takes her to the back, past the office, the music becoming that thick beat in the distance, a deep thrum in the air, through the walls, muffled as if the world was made of cotton. He leans her against the wall, a body too easy to move by now, his hands on her shoulders as he leans down to rub his nose against hers.

“Be a good girl and stay right here,” he tells her, waiting for her to understand.

She nods slowly, licking her lips again, and he presses his mouth to hers, capturing that sweet little tongue, sucks on it, kisses her deeply, tastes the sugar and her and more. Dangerous move, but he can't help himself. He leans back, moves his lips down her jaw, along her neck, swipes his tongue in a broad stroke over that soft skin. She mewls in response, and he grins against her before leaning back.

“I'll be right back,” he says, his eyes boring into hers, making sure she does what he tells her. She nods again, biting her swollen lip.

He hasn't planned to take her, but he'll adapt, as always. It's a risky move, but he somehow knows it's going to be fine. He has an eye for these things, knows what to do if situations (opportunities) like this present themselves. Just a few calls, some more ominous nods to his employees, no problem, just a few minutes of his time to sort things out. Somewhat. He doesn't even know why he's taking her away, it just feels right. The temptation is too strong to ignore.

He shouldn't have left her.

When he returns, they are there, crowding her, two guys, frat boys probably, drunk out of their minds, slurring and stumbling, but determined to take what is now his. He's on them in no time, hand ripping them away from the frightened but still confused girl, frozen in place as hands gripped and groped her, slipping under her clothes, going places that are reserved to him.

His fist lands hard against a jaw, one of them tumbling to the floor with a howl, the other, too drunk to react, just stares at him, and he doesn't wait for him to realize what is happening. There's blood on his knuckles when the second guy goes down as well, two crumpled guys on the floor, holding their bloody faces. He grabs the girl with his left hand, carefully pulling her against him. She's swaying, legs trembling, arms wrapping around his waist helplessly.

One of the boys stirs, and he steps on his hand and kicks him back, another howl swallowed by the distant thump of the music. He takes a few steps, raps his fist against the door. A bouncer opens it, and he tilts his head towards the mess behind him. “Take care of this,” he orders, and the burly man nods, slipping into the club while he maneuvers the girl out of it.

The night is cold, semi-fresh air, but the noises are no longer muffled. The city breathes around them as he guides her to his car, parked in the back. She clings to him, barely able to function on her own anymore, eyes heavy, lips parted. He leans her against the trunk, hands holding her soft face, looks her over. She looks at him from under her lashes, too out of it to realize anything anymore. He gives her a soft kiss to her warm cheek, a little giggle escapes her.

She falls into the passenger seat, a frail little body unable to move on its own. He leans over to buckle her in, feeling her deep breaths on his chin. A short side glance shows him she has her eyes closed, chest rising and falling, head lolled to the side. His hand is on her cheek as he kisses her gently, savoring the warmth, already imagining what he could use her for. But he has to be patient.

When he rounds the car to get behind the wheel, his morals flare up, a rare occurrence, but the sight of her slumped into the seat, helpless and fucking innocent, makes him wonder how it's come to this. He's seen her dancing, in that tight top and short skirt, a laughing little light in the darkness around her. Pure. Ready to be soiled. He inhales the cold night air and slips into the driver seat, shaking his head to get rid of those damn doubts, flexing his bloodied knuckles on the steering wheel as he turns his head towards her small form.

In the end she is just another body to be used, like she should be.

They arrive at his place, and it's a blur for him to get her into the elevator, a little breathing bundle in his arms, so light and heavy at the same time. Temptation. He puts her down on the bed, watches her, how she curls up into a ball of limbs and hair, breathing softly, skirt bunched up around her hips, that sweet round butt on display, cute panties he wants to rip off her immediately. But he refrains, sighs, turns away to wash the blood off his hands.

Unbuttoning his shirt as he returns, his eyes are on her, taking in every detail. He keeps his pants on, keeps his hard erection in place for now, no matter how difficult it is to hold back. The urge to just take her is strong, push those panties aside and impale her on his thick cock. It'd be so easy. She wouldn't even feel anything, wouldn't remember a single thing. And there's the problem. He doesn't want to fuck a lifeless body, no matter how cute she looks.

He wants to see the fear in her eyes, the pain when he penetrates her, stretches her, deflowers her, possibly. Maybe even the lust growing in her pupils, that dilated look of pure bliss. Who knows, she might be into this. She followed him so willingly, she came to him, after all, approached the monster that kept staring at her. She made the first step. He just watched.

She stirs on the bed, soft little noises tumbling past her lips. He leans over her, rolls her onto her back, turns her head to the side so she won't choke on her own spit. There are other things he wants her to choke on. Later. It's almost caring how he brushes her hair out of her face, caresses her cheek, flushed and warm from sleep. Thumb finding the contours of her lips, soft and wet, pushing between them, into her mouth, searching for that sweet little tongue.

He pulls back with a deep sigh. Watching her for another moment, he decides to undress her after all. At least the skirt has to go, so he moves his hands under her body and fumbles for the zipper, then pulls it off her slim legs, nudges her shoes and socks off in the same move. He even removes her cheap jewelry, the soft clanging sounds of the thin metal filling the quiet room. She stirs slightly, smacks her lips, but doesn't wake. Not that she could, not yet. He folds the skirt and puts it on the nightstand, the sneakers he leaves under the bed, socks tucked into them, then turns his attention back to her sleeping form.

So fucking innocent in her tight top and those cute panties. A soft pink with little white bows on it. Childish almost, a girl caught in that awkward phase between adulthood and innocence, right on the verge. He doesn't know how old she is, but he trusts his bouncers to only let in girls of age. They're experts in finding fake IDs, good judges of character also. To be honest, though, it wouldn't change anything anyway. She is here now, on his bed, ready to be used, soiled, ravaged. He can't fucking wait.

But he has to, so he leans back and inhales deeply, ignoring the strain in his pants. His hands are itching to touch her, feel that warm smooth skin, pure and untouched. Almost. He can see the bruise on her neck that he worked into her. His mark. The beginning of many more, he's sure. He leans in, braced on one arm, one knee denting the mattress, his other hand tracing her jaw until he feels the little thump of her heartbeat in her jugular. His fingers curl around her neck, thumb pressed to her throat, as he stares down at her.

His mind floods with images of soft lips strained around his cock as he forces it down her throat, the tears in her eyes, the desperate grip of her fingers, trying to push him away as she struggles to breathe, spit and cum on her face, dripping down her chin, down between her tiny tits, chest heaving, throat bulging, a small body shuddering under the assault. He leans back with a groan, his stomach tensing in anticipation.

His hand trails down her side, teases those soft mounds under the top, scrapes over the hem of her panties, down her inner thigh, a little nudge and her legs open, a body to move how he wants to, so pliant. He's tempted to throw his plans overboard, the urge growing to just take her and relieve the throbbing need in his pants. His fingers are shaking as he brushes them between her legs, over the soft, slightly damp fabric of her underwear.

He can't help himself any longer, he slips a finger under the hem, feels her warm skin and the slick gathering between her soft folds. Biting his lip, he traces her slit, from the little hidden nub down to her entrance, and he can already tell she's never been touched here before, tight and pure. Maybe she's had her own little fingers in there, but she'll soon find out that it won't compare to anything he's planning to do to her.

A grunt escapes him when he pushes the tip of his finger into her hole, a little squelching sound accompanied by a little whimper. He looks up, but she's still gone, head turned to the side, drool gathering in the corner of her parted lips. He watches her as he dips his finger deeper, feels the tight grip of her cute little cunt, so warm and squishy, barely able to accommodate one of his digits. This will take some work if he wants to keep her.

He's used virgins before, broke them, ravaged them until their blood mixed with his cum, their pained screams like music in his ears, but this girl... she's too innocent to be treated like that. It's a strange feeling he's never had before. It's warm and somewhat comforting, as smooth as her tight little pussy. He pumps his finger slowly in and out, noticing the wetness gathering around it. Her mind may be clouded, but her body reacts nonetheless.

Why not start her training while she's unconscious? Might make it easier for her once she comes to. He settles next to her, pushing her panties aside more to allow his thumb to find her clit. Pumping his finger, he rubs it gently, draws tight circles around that sensitive bundle of nerves, feels it pulsing under his touch. His cock twitches against the fabric of his pants, and he grits his teeth to ignore it.

Her body shudders, little uncontrollable twitches in her thighs, her stomach fluttering, her soft breaths slightly faster as he keeps working his finger into her tight warmth. His eyes on her face, relaxed in sleep, but there's still a little twitch to her eyebrows, a little furrow, a quiet whimper falling from those plump lips. He fingers her faster, thumb pushing harder on her nub, those sweet squelching sounds making his head spin.

A tiny moan erupts from her throat, a quiet “Ah...” humming in the atmosphere, and he feels her tensing up, her walls gripping his finger, but he works it in and out still, knuckles-deep, thumb assaulting her clit. He wants to lean in and taste her so bad, but somehow he holds himself back, another trait he's new to. Instead he watches her small body convulsing under his touch, hips jerking against his hand, cunt clamping down on his digit, and when he pulls it out, her wetness seeps out of the tiny hole, trailing down to the other, dripping onto the sheets.

He inhales deeply, takes in that sweet scent of her orgasm, and wipes his hand on her inner thigh, spreading her release on her warm skin, before he leans back and brings his finger to his lips, unable to fight the urge to taste her after all. He prefers to have his face between soft thighs, drinking directly from that intoxicating fountain, but for now it'll do. His tongue laps around his fingertip, and he closes his eyes, taking her in, that sweet, sweet taste.

Before he leaves her be, he adjusts her panties and throws the blanket over her sleeping form. Then it's a short trip to the bathroom, shower turned on, clothes discarded on the floor, and he's barely in there when his right hand closes around his angrily throbbing cock.

Fuck. This girl will be a challenge. An exercise in restraint.

🟥 TWO

End notes: So, I guess the slow burn of Innocence Lost got to me, big time. I have no idea from what dark and ugly depths I pulled this story, but it is here, at least the first 10 chapters of it, the first season if you will. (And there will be more!) I'll upload a new chapter every Monday!

I hope the tags didn't put you off too much, but if you are reading this, maybe you pulled through, and I thank you for it! Thank you for joining me on this wild ride! I appreciate you very much!

By the way, this all came to be, somehow, because I've been listening to a lot of Electric Callboy recently (strangely enough, iykyk) and their video to Hate/Love kinda brought this all down. Or at least started it all. Sometimes inspiration strucks in the weirdest forms.

Thanks again for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE◾

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE ◾️TEN

ELEVEN◾️TWELVE ◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

[mxltifxnd0m]

i need fictional men so bad i fear im unwell

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Three Seconds

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: 

Summary: Your kids plan a weekend at the family cabin, hoping to catch the snow one last time before summer comes. What you don’t know is that your ex-husband is coming along, an ex-husband that you’re still in love with.

Square Filled: single parent!dean (2021) for @spnaubingo

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

x

“You ask her.”

“No, you do.”

“I’m the oldest and I say you go.”

Your oldest daughter pushes your youngest son over to you who is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper in hand. Your kids have been whisper arguing for the past ten minutes so now it’s a matter of who will actually come over to you and ask you.

“Are you three just gonna stand there or are you going to ask me whatever it is that you want?” you ask without taking your eyes off the newspaper.

Your son walks over to you and taps the table nervously. You move your eyes from the newspaper to his, and he nervously chuckles.

“Listen, I love you so much.”

“Spit it out, Jacob. What do you three want?”

“We want to go to the family cabin this weekend,” your oldest daughter blurts out. “We’ve been working hard in school and think we deserve a break. This is probably the last weekend we’ll get snow and we want to go to the cabin for it.”

“I don’t see why not,” you shrug.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “It’ll be fun.” You look at your kids and notice a nervous look between them. “What is it?”

“Dad’s going.”

Your entire body goes rigid at the mention of your ex-husband. You haven’t seen or heard from the man in four years. Your daughter is old enough to keep in touch with her father on her own, and the other two are young enough to follow in her footsteps. When she goes to stay with him, they both follow her. She’s been your scape goat for not wanting to talk to him.

“Okay. It’s going to be fine. You three can go with him and I’ll have the house to myself for a bit. It’ll be fine.”

“What? You’re not coming with us?” your middle son asks.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your youngest son puts a hand on your thigh and looks at you with wide green eyes. God, he looks just like his father.

“But I want you coming, Mommy. Please don’t break up our family.”

Yep, just as manipulative as his father is, too. Okay, that was harsh. They’re not manipulative as an evil way, they just know how to play you well enough to get what they want. You set your newspaper down with a sigh, a sigh that your kids know as you being compliant.

“Fine, I guess a weekend wouldn’t hurt.”

Immediately, all three of your kids jump on you to hug you. You can’t be mad at them. They’re children. They want to have fun and be kids. You can put aside your feelings for your ex-husband for a weekend. If he can do it, you can.

That night, you’re packing your pag deep in thought. Does he know that you’re coming? Was it his idea? Is he going to stay if you are? Can you two get along? The family cabin is a good place to stay in during the summer and spring months, but it’s very isolated during the winter months. There are tons of storms up north that will keep you stuck inside the cabin for days at a time, but you think it’ll be fine since winter is ending. There will be snow but not enough of it to keep you from leaving… You hope.

The thing with your ex… he was a good husband in the beginning of the relationship. You two met through his younger brother, Sam. He and his girlfriend were having a birthday party where he invited you to it. You and Sam know each other from college and kept in touch for years after graduating. It wasn’t love at first sight but you and Dean got along very well from the get-go.

After the party, you two started hanging out more and more until you were as deep as ten dates in. He asked you to be his girlfriend after fucking you in the back seat of his beloved black Impala. He was very attentive and loving. Sure, he had his issues just like you had yours but you two were willing to overlook them to make the relationship work.

You two were married for ten years before something changed. It was like a switch had flipped and he was more angry either at you or himself or at the world. You’re not sure why because he stopped talking to you about his issues. He made decisions without talking to you about it, first. He claimed he knew what your answer was going to be. Whether he was right or not, that still didn’t matter because you stopped being his person.

You tried talking to Sam about it but he said if you wanted to know what was up with Dean, you’d have to talk to him. Dean was hunting a lot more with his brother and bottlig his feelings up. Yes, you know about the supernatural but you made Dean promise to keep you and your kids out of it. You didn’t want them dead in a ditch somewhere because of some vampire or werewolf, but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to hear about it.

He was struggling and for that, he disappeared. He pulled himself away from you. He loves you with all his heart and it hurt him to treat you like this but you weren't in the life. You didn’t know the hardships that came with it. You didn’t understand and he can’t fault you for that. It’s just hard to focus on thing slike a marriage and love when he’s getting people killed left and right.

Divorcing you was one of the hardest things he ever had to do not because he didn’t love you anymore but because he thought it was the only way to protect you. It’s also why he didn’t contact you in those four years. He kept hjis kids in his life because he’d do anything for them but only when he knew he wasn’t going to be out on a hunt.

You and your kids drive up to the cabin Friday night so you can have the entire weekend up there. The closer you get to the cabin, the more nervous you get. What will it be like seeing Dean after all this time? He’s been in his fair share of relationships thanks to Sam telling you, so you wonder what his new girlfriend might think about him spending time up here with his ex-wife.

You park and get out of the car, already seeing Dean’s shiny black Impala in the driveway. Your kids run up the stairs of the cabin calling for their dad while you stay by the car to get the bags. You heave the kids’ firsts since their suitcases are light before grasping the handle of yours. A bigger hand encases yours to help, and you look to the right to see Dean standing there.

“Let me,” he says.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Even now, with all this time apart, that nickname makes your heart flutter. He takes the bag out of the trunk and takes one the smaller suitcases before heading up the porch stairs into the cabin. This was a bad idea. You know it’s a bad idea because all you can think about is the time you two spent apart and how much you want him back. You’re still in love with him as the day when you first told him.

You take the other two suitcases and join your family inside the cabin. It’s snowing outside but it doesn’t look too bad. Tonight might be a mellow night even though you saw storm clouds in the distance. When it storms, the power loves to go out so you hope it doesn’t happen tonight.

“I bought pizza on my way up here. We can reheat it in the oven. I figure it makes for an easy night tonight.”

“Thanks,” you mutter.

Dean heats the pizza in the oven before letting the kids take what they want. They take their food into the living room to watch a movie while you and Dean stay in the kitchen.

“So, how have you been?” he asks.

“Oh, um, good, I guess. How are you?”

“Look, this doesn’t have to be awkward. It’s only for a weekend.”

“Right,” you chuckle breathlessly. “So, how much convincing did it take from Sam to get you out here?”

“None, actually. It was my idea.”

“Your idea?”

“Yeah. I know the kids love snow and I figure we could all use a break.”

“So, how is hunting going?”

Dean doesn’t want to talk about that with you not because he wants to keep you from it, but because he doesn’t want this place to be tied to hunting. He shakes his head without saying a word and you understand he doesn’t want to talk about it. Since you got here late, the kids grew tired right after the end of the movie. The sun has gone past the horizon, and you don’t need the sun to tell you that a storm is rolling in.

“Alright, time for bed,” you say to the kids.

They whine but you know they’re tired. You turn then TV off but keep the lamps on since your sons like the room to have a bit of light when they sleep. This is a one bedroom cabin but the living room has such a big couch that all three kids can snuggle on it like one big sleepover. However, right as you turn the TV off, all the lights go off. The power is cut off because of the storm outside.

“I knew this was going to happen,” you chuckle humorlessly.

“Mommy, I’m cold,” your youngest shudders.

Along with the power cut off, the heater had run its course. The only place where you can get heat is the big fireplace in the bedroom.

“Alright, you three can take the bedroom. I’ll put more firewood in there. It’ll be warm. Is that okay, Dean?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll get the wood.”

You take the kids and tuck all three of them into bed while Dean puts more than enough wood into the fireplace. He lets it burn and keeps the grate closed to keep the ash from falling out. The only light source available is the fire which the kids don’t seem to mind.

“We’ll be right outside if you need us. I love you all. Good night,” you grin and kiss each of their heads.

“Night, kids,” Dean says.

You two walk to the dark living room where you take one side of the couch and Dean takes the other. You’re not sure what to say so you keep your mouth shut. However, the cold seeps into your skin and causes goosebumps to rise. It doesn’t matter how many blankets you have on you, the cold seems to want to attack your bones. You’d snuggle with Dean to stay warm but you don’t want to be lying in his arms. You haven’t felt his arms in so long that you fear you’ll fall right back in love with him.

Who am I kidding? I never fell out of it.

“Oh, my God, just lay on the couch with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I can hear your teeth chattering, and I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Fine,” you huff out in annoyance.

You move across the couch over to Dean and slip underneath the blanket with him. He’s always been warm and it’s no exception now. He rubs your back that sends a different kind of shiver down your back, and you look up at him in curiosity. After spending four years away from him, you’re now lying in his arms.

It scares you how easy it is still to do this with him. It’s like you belong in his arms. Reality hits you when you remember his relationship status, and you move away from him so you can stare into his eyes.

“Won’t your girlfriend be mad you’re cuddling with your ex-wife?”

“Not my girlfriend anymore. Don’t really care.”

“Oh? What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

“I know you, Dean. What did you do?”

“Let’s not go there, okay? Just go to sleep.”

He closes his eyes to signify that he’s going to sleep but you’re not letting him off that easily.

“Oh, no, we’re talking about this. What did you do? Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Fine.” He sharply inhales and opens his eyes. “You want to know what I did? I broke up with her because she’s not you. Because every day I spend wondering what I did wrong to make you not love me anymore. For the first time in four years, I’m happy in a freezing cold cabin lying on an uncomfortable couch because you are back in my arms. Is that enough of an explanation for you?”

You’re stunned into silence as your brain processes his words. This is his love confession for you. He’s just as in love with you as you are with him.

“I didn’t divorce you because I stopped loving you. I never stopped loving you,” you whisper.

“Then what did I do? You tell me that.”

“You decided on your own that you were the only person capable of taking care of you. You made decisions without asking me. Just because you know what my answer would be, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t ask. You shut me out. Hunting became too much and you shut me out.”

“You told me you didn’t want anything to do with the life.”

“I didn’t and I still don’t but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want nothing to do with you. You were my husband, Dean. Seeing you in pain brought me pain and you decided to suffer alone.”

“I didn’t…” He swallow thickly and looks down. “I didn’t want you dying because of me. I’d die myself if you or the kids got harmed because of me.”

“Dean,” you whisper.

“All I want to do now is take you and kiss you and prove to you that I am the man that you can love. So, you have three seconds.”

“Three seconds for what?” 

“Three seconds to tell me not to kiss you, and I will go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened. If you feel for me what I feel for you, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Three.” You don’t say anything. “Two.” You move closer to him so only a whisper lies between your lips and his. “One.”

He closes the gap and kisses you, and sparks explode behind your eyelids. He makes you feel the same way as he did from the moment you first kissed him. You don’t realize how much you’ve missed him until this exact moment.

“Marry me again,” he whispers against your lips.

“Yes,” you whisper back.

x

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[im-just-a-ghost5]

Me, reading fanfic about deeply traumatized characters I relate to getting treated with basic human decency, getting their backs blown out and being loved unconditionally by another deeply traumatized character I relate to in a DIFFERENT way : ......mmm.....therapie......

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

He’s Not A Machine!

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: when dean collapses from exhaustion, it takes everything in you not to beat the shit outta john

pairing: (stanford era) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 4.0k

warnings: hurt/sad dean, language, john being a terrible father, john being an asshole in general but what else is new

pairing note: reader washes/brushes her hair

author’s note: hiiii me again after many moons of zero contact with this lovely website. sorry for taking so long, hopefully i’ll stay a while this time lol.

It’d been nearly four weeks of back-to-back hunts. This was the seventh motel you and the two Winchesters had been at this month and you were almost ready to call it a night. 

“I’m gonna wash this wraith stench off of me,” you told Dean. You then added quietly so John—who was sitting at the table and cleaning his guns—wouldn’t hear; “Would you like to join me, handsome?”

“More than anything,” he whispered before he bent down and kissed you. John coughed loudly, and you weren’t sure if it was just a perfectly timed accident or a purposeful guilt trip. It was most likely the latter. “But… I think it’s better if I don’t, sweetheart.”

You smiled sadly with a small nod; “Next time, then,” you assured him. You looked up into his eyes and noticed the tiredness laced with the usual burden he carried. He blinked unusually slowly as if he was trying his damndest to stay awake, and you furrowed your brows. “How about you head to bed, you can shower after you get some sleep.”

“It’s alright, I’m not that tired,” he said.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” you asked him, barely above a whisper so that John wouldn’t hear.

John didn’t like you. He didn’t really trust your intentions with his son, and he thought you were just a distraction that would end up getting Dean killed if he wasn’t careful. He didn’t like how easily Dean would get ‘all giggly’ when he was near you, and he didn’t like that his son kept his guard down when he was with you.

He didn’t like the matching rings you wore, or that you too often referred to the other as husband or wife when a stranger would ask. You weren’t married, you were his fucking girlfriend and John fully believed you wouldn’t still be together by the time Sam finished his first four years at Stanford. 

“I’m fine,” he replied, matching your quiet tone. “I’ll shower right after you so don’t use up all the hot water, okay?” There was a teasing smirk on his face which made your worries subside temporarily.

“I promise to leave you some,” you said before you kissed him once more.

**

“Dean are you okay?” you asked, seeing the far-off look in his eyes when you left the bathroom.

“Yeah, I uh…” He rubbed his eyes as he tried to again focus on your face. He looked over at his dad, who raised a brow at his eldest son. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

You followed his line of sight and pursed your lips when you saw John.

“Dean says he’s fine, drop it Y/n,” he told you.

Against your better judgment, you decided not to ask Dean again. With your hair still wet from the shower, you took the brush from your bag and started fixing it. 

“Aren’t you gonna shower, babe?” you asked Dean, who hadn’t moved an inch.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. He started to kick off his shoes when he tripped and fell straight to the floor, his cheek now pressed against the carpet.

“Dean!?” you exclaimed and hurried over to him. You fell to your knees and took him into your arms, shaking him gently in hopes he’d just wake up. “Dean? Dean, honey, please? J-John he’s not waking up!” You pressed your lips to his temple; “C’mon, Dean!”

John had left his spot on the couch and was now hovering over you, as you looked up at him desperately.

“Is he breathing?”

“Yeah,” you replied, tears slipping down your cheeks. John helped you lay Dean down so he could check his breathing.

“He seems fine,” John deduced. “Is there a wound we missed or something?”

“W-We need to call an ambulance,” you said and rushed to grab your phone off the nightstand.

“Y/n, Dean wouldn’t want us to call the cops,” John replied. He seemed a little too calm for your liking, so you weren’t about to let him call the shots regarding Dean’s wellbeing.

“I don’t care, we’re getting him to the fucking hospital,” you said as you dialed and made your way back to Dean. “Now hide your goddamn guns before the paramedics get here—I need an ambulance at the Rosebud Motel room 302, my husband just collapsed unexpectedly.” You ignored the look John gave you when you called Dean that. The operator asked questions and you answered each one; “Yes, he’s breathing… No, no bleeding… He’s twenty-five… Uhm, I’m not sure…” You pulled the phone from your ear; “Has he had anything to drink yet tonight?”

John was putting away the guns and paused to think before he shrugged; “I dunno, I wasn’t watching.” 

Your eyes widened and your teeth clenched, the fucking audacity. Looking at the table you saw three opened beers so you made an educated guess when you answered the 9-1-1 operator.

“He might’ve had a beer or two, but he’s not a lightweight, he’d never pass out after two beers… Yes, his dad is in the room with me… Yes, I can stay on the line.” You took in a shaky breath as you brought his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. 

“Just stay calm, ma’am, help is on the way.”

“I’m trying,” you replied, tears streaming down your cheeks as you kept his hand pressed to your lips. “Th-This isn’t like him, he’s–he’s always okay.”

**

You bounced your leg anxiously as you sat next to John in the waiting room. As you absentmindedly played with the ring on your right ring finger, you couldn’t help but think of the time when Dean had told you how much you truly meant to him almost three years ago.

* flashback *

“I got you a present.” His smile was adorable as he sat next to you on the couch. He saw your face light up and felt the need to downplay the gift; “It’s nothing much, don’t get too excited.”

“Dean, you could give me a dirty sock and I’d love it,” you teased, placing a quick kiss on his pink lips.

“Well… this is like one teer above ‘dirty sock’, I think.” He smirked and handed you the small velvet box. 

You opened it and your jaw fell open; “Oh my god, Dean!”

“I know how much you like mine,” he said quietly.

“I do like yous,” you took his right hand in yours and kissed the ring on his finger, “I love yours, Dean.”

“Well, this one is exactly like mine.” He smiled. “Except it’s in your size, obviously, so we can… you know… match.” You took the ring out of the box and admired it for a moment. You were about to put it on but he stopped you; “May I do the honors, sweetheart?” he asked. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips as you nodded and he took it from you. He slipped the ring onto your right ring finger before he kissed your hand. 

“I mean this in the most genuine way possible; this is by far the best gift anyone has ever gotten me, Dean! Ever!”

A sheepish blush was forming on his cheeks as he leaned over and kissed your lips; “I love you so much.” He pulled away so he could look at you; “And, I want you to know this isn’t a regular gift.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your smile growing. 

“Yeah,” he replied and kissed you again. When he pulled away again he chickened out a little and didn’t say what he was going to. “You’re twenty-one, which means you can now legally drink in all fifty states.” He stood up, pulling on your hand gently so you would follow him to the kitchen. He took two beers out of the fridge and put them on the table. He used the ring on his finger to easily open one then handed the other to you. “Why don’t you give it a try.”

It took you a few tries but you managed to open the beer using the ring he just gave you; “Okay, now that’s awesome!”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Dean said and you clinked your beers together before you both started drinking them. As he brought the bottle down from his lips, he watched as you kept drinking and smiled to himself. He suddenly felt the courage he felt when he bought the ring and decided to tell you his thoughts; “You know you’re the only girl for me, right?” You nodded with a smile. “I don’t just mean ‘for now’ I mean like forever. That’s the real meaning behind the ring, I love you and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives.”

You couldn’t help the happy tears beginning to sting your eyes as you looked up at him; “Forever?”

“Forever.”

* end of flashback *

You were shaken back to cruel reality by the sound of John’s voice beside you; “What’s taking them so long? We’ve gotta get back on the fuckin’ road.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you scoffed and looked at him. “Dean might be in serious trouble, and you’re thinking about the next hunt!?”

“Dean’s gonna be fine.” He rolled his eyes.

“We don’t know that,” you replied. You again started fiddling with the ring Dean had given to you.

“You know that ring doesn’t make you two husband and wife,” John commented. 

You stood up abruptly, not wanting to say what was running through your head; Yeah, and Dean being so fucking perfect doesn’t make you a good father.

“Dean Smith’s next of kin?” the doctor asked. 

“I’m his wife, this is his dad,” you said. “H-How is he?”

“He’ll be fine,” she replied. “He has a very minor concussion from when his head hit the floor, but he just needs some rest.”

“What happened?” John asked. 

“He fainted from over-exhaustion, he’s gonna be okay.”

“Over-exhaustion?” You furrowed your brows, placing a hand over your chest. “B-But he’s been eating fine? A-And sleeping as much as me, I think?”

“Actually,” John interrupted, “he’s been helping me with research at night, he doesn’t sleep as much as you.” 

Never in your life had you wanted to knee John Winchester in the balls as badly as you wanted to at that moment.

“How many hours a night are you sleeping, hun?” the doctor asked you.

“Like three to five… every other night,” you admitted. “And that’s always been enough! If it wasn’t, Dean could’ve just taken a nap he didn’t have to—fuck.”

“Can we see him?” John asked.

“He’s still asleep but yes, you can go and see him,” she replied.

On the way to Dean’s room, you kept wondering how this all happened—how did Dean get so fucking tied he collapsed!? If he was staying up at night, why didn’t he just sleep in the car? You would’ve happily driven Baby, and it’s not like you hadn’t done that before—Dean’s love language was sharing that fucking car.

“This hasn’t ever happened before, right?” you asked John. 

“Never,” he replied. “Guess Dean’s just not as strong as he used to be.”

“Excuse me?” you seethed and stopped in your tracks, pulling John to a halt as well. “Dean is a fucking hero but he is not a machine, he’s a fucking human being who’s been treated like a soldier since he was six-fucking-years-old!”

“If you wanna say something, fucking say it!” John exclaimed. 

“Oh, I am saying it! How fucking dare you work him so hard that he lands in the fucking emergency room!”

“We all know in this line of work, we have to do what we have to do!”

You slapped him hard across the face and your eyes widened when you realized what you did. 

“Dean is your son,” you said, quickly changing your facial expression back into one of pure rage. “He is your fucking child and you’ve been treating him like shit for far too long. He deserves better, he doesn’t deserve to be so fucking exhausted that he collapses.”

You walked away and into Dean’s room. Seeing him lying in the hospital bed made your heart break as tears welled in your eyes. 

“Oh god,” you mumbled. “Dean.” You quickly pulled up a chair so you could sit next to his bed and patiently wait for him to wake up. John did the same, though he seemed annoyed by the fact Dean was still asleep. 

You weren’t sure how long had passed before John got fed up; “Can you press the button for the nurse so we can ask when he’s supposed to wake up?”

“I think we should just let him sleep, don’t you?” you whispered, not knowing if Dean had been sedated or if he was just resting like normal.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, I told you to call the damn nurse,” he said, raising his voice which caused Dean to stir awake.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean said groggily, his eyes half-hooded as he brought your hand to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckles. He then dropped your hand and rubbed his eyes to wake himself up. “This isn’t the motel,” he realized. He noticed John sitting at the other side of the bed and he sat up a little, trying to somewhat compose himself. “Wh-What happened?”

“I’ll fill you in,” John said. “Y/n, why don’t you go grab us some coffee so I can talk with my son?”

All your instincts told you not to leave the two Winchesters alone but what choice did you have? You didn’t want to start another fight with John, you were tired too, and you didn’t want Dean worrying.

“Yeah, sure,” you said. You took the time to bend down and place a loving kiss on Dean’s forehead, causing him to smile. “No coffee for you though, you need more sleep,” you told him before you left the room. 

About ten minutes later you walked back in and the sight practically made your eyes bulge out of your skull as your jaw flew open. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you asked and placed the two cups to the side. 

“Dad said there’s a hunt,” Dean said matter-of-factly. “I can sleep in the car or something, let’s go.” He started to stand up so you pushed him back down. 

“How fucking dare you!” you exclaimed at John, who stood on the other side of the bed. “How dare you tell him to suit up right now! He is staying here in this hospital, and he is getting some goddamn sleep!”

“That is not your decision,” John replied. “If Dean says he’s fine, then he’s fine.”

“You realize those are the exact words you said to me before your son collapsed, right?” you scoffed. “Dean lay back down now,” you told him as you began taking his boots off. “You are staying here for the night, you understand me?”

“Don’t you boss him around!” John exclaimed. “Dean and I are leaving here now.”

“You can leave if you want to, but Dean is staying put!” you replied, matching his tone. 

“No, he is not!” John yelled. 

You’d never fought with John like this, usually yelling and getting yelled at made your eyes tear up in the most inconvenient way. But this? Dean’s health? You were not about to back down. Not one single tear dared to appear in your eyes as you looked at John with such anger you wanted to slap him across the face… again.

“Why don’t we get a third opinion?” you suggested.

“Yeah, Dean, do you wanna sit here like a pussy or do you wanna go save some fucking lives?” John turned to look at him.

“Don’t answer that,” you said quickly. “I meant, let’s call the nurse and see what they have to say about it.”

Before John could protest, you walked over and pressed the button. It took half a minute—during which you and John stared daggers at each other—but soon the nurse walked in.

“How is everyone?” she asked, noticing the tension in the room.

“Do you think this young man here can leave yet? He’s doing fine and wants to go home,” John said. 

“Let me check his chart,” she replied before doing so. “I would have to no, he should definitely stay here and get some much-needed rest.”

“Is there a doctor—” John started but you stopped him.

“Goddamn it John!” you scoffed. “He is not leaving!” 

“You are not his fucking family!” John shouted, much louder than before. “I am! You aren’t his wife, you aren’t his sister, you aren’t his fucking mother—you are just his current girlfriend, and believe me that’ll fucking change in a heartbeat. You are not in charge of what Dean does, you are not family.” There was a short pause as your eyes brimmed with tears yet you refused to let them fall. John sighed and continued; “I am Dean’s father, I know what’s best for him, and I say he’s packing his things and getting the hell outta here.”

The nurse looked absolutely shocked, her jaw hanging open. The look John gave her made her hurry out of the room.

“Dad,” Dean said, seeing the tears in your eyes. “Dad, you can yell at me all you want, I’m your kid but…” He exhaled shakily as John turned to look at him with a frustrated look. “But you can’t talk to her like that, you just can’t. You might not think of her as family but that’s on you, she is a part of my family, Dad. And yeah, we might not be legally married or whatever but she’s not just my current girlfriend? She basically is my wife, we’re not just… dating?” Dean looked at his father with a sense of desperation, John just had to apologize and you could all drop it. Of course, John, being a stubborn bastard, held his ground and crossed his arms authoritatively. “I-If you aren’t gonna take back what you just said to her y-you can go on this next hunt alone.”

“Excuse me?” John scoffed. 

“You heard me,” Dean replied. “She’s everything to me and I can’t sit idly by while you talk to her like that.”

“So you’re talkin’ back to me now? Like Sammy?” John asked. “Refusing to take orders?”

“This isn’t about me, Dad!” Dean said, his face twisted with guilt. “You know I follow any orders you give, that I’m quick to obey. But you saying Y/n isn’t family? I-I’m sorry but I can’t let that slide, Dad.”

John huffed and abruptly left the room.

“I’m sorry,” you said to Dean the moment John was out of earshot.

“Me too.” Dean smiled sadly as you both wiped your eyes quickly.

“Why don’t we get these jeans off of you so you can be more comfortable?” you suggested patting his shin.

His brows shot up; “Really? Here? Now?”

“Dean, no!” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I meant comfortable so you can go to sleep!”

“Oh…yeah, that makes more sense.” His trademark cocky smile was back and that made your own smile return to your now tear-stained face.

“I’m serious about you staying put, you know.” You nodded toward his pants and he got the message. 

“You can be real stubborn, you know that?” he laughed as he hurried and slipped his pants off. You folded them up and put them on the chair along with his belt. He shrugged off his jacket and you tossed it on top of where the pants sat. 

“Get under the covers,” you said. He rolled his eyes playfully but he obliged nonetheless. 

“Happy?” He smiled when he was comfortable in the bed. 

You nodded; “I love you, Dean.” You leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips, causing his smile to turn more genuine. 

“Hey,” the doctor interrupted as she walked into the room, “Nurse Roberts just told me about the little outburst… everything okay in here?”

“Yeah, just a little misunderstanding is all,” you replied. “But it’s all settled—Dean’s staying the night.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said with a smile. “I’ve gotta be honest I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, clearly anxious about her statement.

“I just meant that your husband is very healthy,” she assured you; “I’ve never seen a young, healthy man like him just collapse from over-exhaustion.”

“First time for everything I guess,” Dean laughed nervously.

You glared at him; “Not funny, babe.”

“She’s right,” the doctor backed you up. “Now, whatever you’ve been doing recently that caused you to lose this much sleep, get this stressed you need to quit it right here, right now.”

“It’s our job, we can’t just… quit,” you said. “But I will definitely keep a closer eye on him from now on, make sure he’s getting enough sleep.”

“You can’t put this all on her, you understand me, Mr. Smith?” She looked at Dean before he nodded shyly. “Mrs. Smith you need to fix your own sleeping habits as well — if you both don’t smarten up and take better care of yourselves, you will definitely be right back here before the end of the year. You got that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said. 

“Good.” She nodded. “Now, I’m gonna give you a small dose of a mild sedative to help you fall asleep, alright?” She said as she made her way over to Dean’s IV bag to give him the sedative. “You ripped this out the second you woke up, didn’t you?” She asked him when she realized the needle was no longer in his arm. “You two, I swear!” She started preparing to simply inject Dean with the sedative but you stopped her.

“Is there maybe like a pill equivalent to what you’re giving him? He doesn’t really like needles,” you said. 

“There is, would you prefer that?” she asked Dean, and he nodded vigorously. “Alright, I’ll go and grab that for you then. Mrs. Smith the chair in the corner folds out into a small bed if you two don’t want to share one.”

“Oh, that’s alright, I’m not tired,” you said. 

She gave you a look; “Seriously? Hun, what did we just talk about?”

“I get that, but I know Dean’s not gonna sleep properly if he doesn’t feel safe.”

“This is a hospital, it’s safe,” she said. 

“Sorry,” you said with a small shrug, and again she sighed.

At that moment, John decided to walk back into the room, making your breath hitch a little before the doctor left to get the meds for Dean. 

“It’s alright, you two get some sleep; I’ll keep watch,” he said as he made his way over to the chair and sat down. 

“You sure, dad? I thought you said there was a job nearby?” Dean asked. 

John looked at you and smiled ever-so-slightly. Maybe it was something you had said to him, maybe John didn’t want you being alone with Dean while he was so weak, or maybe there never was a job and he didn’t have anything better to do than stay with his son. 

For whatever reason, John Winchester sighed and answered; “You’re more important, Dean. Your safety is more important. Now quit whining and get some sleep.”

Dean pulled the covers back, silently asking you to join him in the bed and, of course, you obliged. You gave him a quick kiss on the lips before getting comfortable in his arms.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your temple. 

“I love you more,” you replied, making him let out a soft laugh. 

“You always gotta one-up me, huh?” he chuckled. 

“Uh-huh,” you giggled. His arms tightened around your frame as he tucked your head under his chin. John couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for treating not only you but his own son so poorly. Every time John saw Dean be this relaxed and happy, you were always the cause. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

By the time the doctor got back about seven minutes later, you and Dean were both fast asleep; the latter letting out snores that gently moved your hair with each breath. She smiled a little at the sight and decided to duck back out of the room so as not to wake you two.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— seven

SUMMARY : dean would rather be doing something else with his time rather than doing research, he’d rather be doing her

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester, donna handscum

WARNINGS : smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up, losers), fluff, the plot is abandoned :’(

WORD COUNT : 5.2k

A/N : yes, seven by jungkook. this fills the square for new position on my @jacklesversebingo card. this position is called ‘rocking horse’, lmao, very hot

She was staring at the screen of her laptop, every link was now purple instead of blue from having explored them all on her journey to research all there was to know about the Egyptian goddess Taweret. Still, she found nothing on how to weaken, stop, or kill the hippo. Taweret’s distorted usage of her abilities was getting too out of hand.

Too many pregnant people. Too many old people getting young again. Especially couples. For now, at least, that’s all that’s happened. 

Typically Sam, Dean, and Y/N dealt with the killing, the death, and the blood, but Donna managed to pick this up on her own and called the brothers for backup because it was starting to get way too ridiculous—terrifying, really. Reapers were overwhelmed and while the Winchesters and Y/N didn’t really care about how they were feeling, it was a major problem—when speaking about the universal rules: what is, what should be, what was, what should never be, etcetera. 

Unfortunately, the research has led to no real or useful information for how to stop the Goddess, not even how to kill her. And once Dean started to hum Travelling Riverside Blues while shaking his leg impatiently in the fourth hour, she couldn’t focus on anything else anymore.

Now that same song was stuck in her head and she glared at her laptop while trying to get a different song to replace Led Zeppelin’s in her mind. It wasn’t a bad song, but it got irritating, and every song somehow morphed right back to Travelling Riverside Blues. Her and Dean had been so good about focusing on the research, but sometimes one of them always made it impossible for the other to maintain that amount of silence and focus around each other. 

It usually started with some small conversations: How’s the research going? Have you found anything yet? Hey, remember when…? Are you hungry? I’m kinda hungry. Aren’t you tired? And so on. 

Then there were glances. From a distance, they’d stare at each other when the other isn’t looking, wondering if enough time has passed to not feel guilty for wanting to take a break. They’d smile to themselves, catching cute little habits in body language or facial expressions. 

Sometimes—most of the time—there was some sexualisation. If she’s wearing a skirt or a dress, he’d stare at the curve of her legs in some really sexy heels. He’d wish to have them wrapped around his waist as he fucks her or thrown over his shoulders with his face buried between her legs. He’d have to subtly place a hand over his crotch and hope his erection would go away or stop getting harder. 

If the neck of her clothes was low enough to show some cleavage, he’d spend his time analysing the size of them, the roundness and perkiness of them in the clothes she wore. Or remembering the way they felt in his hands, warm and soft, and the way she looked so hot when he’d tease her sensitive nipples with his fingers, the noises she made playing in his head until he was hot and red in the face.

And his mind would drift endlessly to the memory of her naked body. The perfect dip of her waist when he holds her there and the way she squirms when he does it. The softness of her skin when his hands and his mouth are exploring, sucking, licking, biting, tasting her as his mouth waters hungrily; touching, squeezing, scraping, possibly bruising her body so she could always remember him. So she could always feel him and where he had been. 

He’d stare at her hands as she typed away at the laptop, expertly pressing the keys with those swift and elegant fingers of her. She’d keep her nails relatively short and occasionally did them nicely. Currently, they were painted a mossy green colour that matched the gem of the silver ring she wore, one he’d picked out for her. Both of them knew the nail polish wouldn’t last, but he liked when she felt beautiful, it somehow made her a billion times more beautiful. 

It was the memory of them slowly moving across his body, worshipping while soft and sometimes cold, smaller than his, that made him bite his lip. Even the gentle caresses to his face when he was on the brink of breaking apart into dust in grief and despair. Her hand in his whenever they went somewhere, while they slept, in the Bunker, in the Impala, during sex. 

If he’s rolled up the sleeves of a white dress shirt, she’ll stare at the way the material stretches over his chest and broad shoulders, tightening around his arms when he flexes his hands and arms as a result of a cramp or the like. With that tiny fucking waist of his accentuated by the shirt tucked into his slacks, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to fuck him senseless or hold him gently in her arms. 

If he walked around to get a beer, she’d stare at the tightness of the black slacks over his ass, over his strong thighs when he’d bend over to reach down for the bottle. She’d have to hold back a moan and squeeze her thighs together to stop herself from jumping his bones or actually moaning out loud. 

Even his fucking fingers turned her on. It was fucking annoying, when he’d brush his thumb across his plump bottom lip to swipe away droplets of beer. It was embarrassing the way her walls clenched around nothing just at the memory of having his thick fingers inside her, pushing and stroking, quick and steadfast. Her panties soaked through with arousal with every bit of motion from his hands. Even when he’s cleaning their weapons. 

But the one thing that truly made her lose her mind were his lips. They were so distracting. All the time. Whenever he speaks, her eyes are glued on his lips, but he doesn’t think much of it because she does it often with everyone in order to focus on what they’re saying. He just doesn’t understand how much that doesn’t work for her when it’s his lips she’s looking at. 

All she can think about is how kissable they look, how soft they’d feel against hers, and how funny it would be if she just kissed him mid-sentence. He’d have that cute, bewildered, but pleased look on his face. He bit them often when he was deep in thought, slowly releasing it, turning it red and swollen, just slightly covered in his spit. 

He had the cutest habits with his mouth. Puckering them when he’s eating, pouting all the time, sometimes he said certain words they’d pout even more, and when he was pissed or focused. And then he did that model thing with his lips, leaving them slightly parted as he stared at nothing or was considering something seriously. 

He was fucking delicious. And that mouth of his was ridiculously talented. Really, very yummy…

It was unfair that he looked as sinful and as fuckable as he did without having to try. Even after waking up, with his soft hair spiked up in some places and flat in others. When his voice was thick and hot with sleep and he’d murmur half-irritated words if he was woken too early, or hot and loving things being mumbled against her ear when he was in a mood. 

After all that staring and longing, there would be trips to the fridge, when either one of them grabbed snacks for the other. Hands and fingers brushing against each other when passing over the snacks or drinks. Little smiles were exchanged and yearning sparkled in their eyes, but neither of them did or said anything about it, so the tension grew and grew. 

Maybe one of them might get closer to the other, pretending to curiously look at the work they were doing. Slowly, their eyes would drift innocently to each other and there would be an exchange of teasing and amused smiles. And then they’d bring their laptop or books closer and stay there, slowly legs would start to touch each other. 

It was like a circuit of lust. The endless tensions and the electricity that made them shiver, skin prickling, hair sticking up; for her: nipples tightening and tingly cunt dampening her panties; for him: cock stirring, slowly hardening and straining in his boxers. Their breaths became noticeably heavier and their eyes would be heavy with desire, and their arms and hands would touch to increase the voltage on each other’s skin until they just couldn’t take it and had to do something about it. 

They weren’t quite there yet, but they were both thinking about it. They already knew themselves and how things progressed from years of being together. It was nice.

“This is so fucking boring!” Dean whined abruptly, throwing his head back and running his hands down his face. “We shoulda stayed with Sammy and Donna to talk to witnesses.” He slumped down in his chair with a pout and then turned to look at his girlfriend who pursed her lips to stop a smile from spreading across her tinted lips. 

“You told Sam your knee was still hurting from the last hunt and wanted to come back here,” she reminded him with a laugh, moving the laptop off her lap to twist her torso left and right until the crack of her spine made her sigh happily.

“Yeah, well now my ass hurts, too,” he complained, arching his back in the chair and flattening his hands down his backside as it became numb. 

“Then stop sitting and walk around for a bit,” she suggested, stretching her legs underneath the table so their feet knocked against each other. 

“Ugh, fine,” he grunted petulantly, tapping his foot against hers in retaliation before getting up. He shut his laptop, taking the now-warm beer on the table with him. He squatted for a few seconds and she laughed through her nose, stretching in the chair while she watched him try to ease the pain on his butt from sitting. 

“Fuck, this feels so good… and painful, all at once,” he chuckled, pursing his lips so his little dimples appeared above his lips. He hissed when he strained his sore knee and then sighed when he was satisfied. When he stood up straight, he scrunched up his cute nose when something popped pleasantly, and slapped his own ass with both hands—at the same time. 

“Better?” She asked with a grin. 

“Not really,” he frowned dramatically, hunching his back. 

“Aw, come ‘ere then, sweetheart.” She mimicked his pout, moved her chair back from the table and patted her lap. “Come sit on daddy’s lap,” she said with a grin, then snorted. He let out a loud laugh and stood up straight again, placing his beer back on the table to make his way onto her lap. “Oh, sweet Jesus, you’re heavy,” she whispered playfully when he sat on her legs. 

“Shudup,” he said with a soft laugh, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to play with her hair and resting his over hand on her waist, his thumb brushing back and forth distractedly. 

“So, how’s it going?” She asked, a soft smile growing on her lips as she looked up at him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, intertwining her fingers to keep her hands from slipping away. 

“I’m bored,” he mumbled, lifting his hand from her waist to play with the thin strap of her red dress. 

“Yeah, you said that.” She stared at him for a moment, watching the way his eyes drifted from her hair, to her shoulder, and finally her breasts. 

“Do you have any idea how much I wanna fuck you?” Dean asked unexpectedly, his eyes snapping back up to hers to capture her reaction. She blinked at him in astonishment, a smile slowly growing on her face. “How much I’ve wanted to bend you over every counter we’ve come across?” He murmured, cupping the back of her head to gently tilt her head back, her lips parting and her heartbeat rising in response. She tightened her entwined fingers, staring into both of his eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers. “How badly I wanna taste you? Kiss your lips? And touch every inch of your sexy body?” 

“Dean,” she uttered breathily. 

He smirked, teasing her by keeping his face inches away from hers, refusing her the pleasure of a kiss. His fingers slipped away from the strap of her dress to sneak into the top, but as his hands turned downward to cup her breasts, his fingers brushed against coarse material.

“Fucking boobtape,” he whispered and she laughed.

“My tits have to stay up somehow and not slip out if I have to fight,” she reasoned, feeling his fingers start to pick at the sticky tape. “Plus, a bra won’t make this dress look very nice. I mean… it’s got you this needy and hard...” She bit her lip and untangled her fingers to slide a hand between his legs. He became stiff and his breath hitched when she patted his hardening dick. “Get off me,” she murmured lightheartedly, letting him go completely. 

“Y-yeah, okay,” he stammered, swiftly standing up off her lap. 

He’d barely straightened up in front of her when she was starting to pull at the dark green tie to bring his lips down to hers in a rough kiss. He all but moaned against her mouth, grasping her hips desperately to pull the thin and silky cloth up so it bunched up at her waist, exposing some seamless, red panties that nearly matched the softness of the blood-red dress. 

“Bed,” she murmured airily against his lips. 

Dean nodded and quickly pressed his lips against hers again, moving with her as she made her way backwards, his hands groping and touching her body, hers pulling and tugging at his hair, their teeth clashing and tongues licking into each other's mouths. Lost in eachother, she ended up pressed against the wall with his knee shoved between her legs.

He pulled away, just to keep teasing her, “think I can make you cum on my thigh again?” He kissed down her jawline, his stubble tickling her soft skin, setting her nerves alight when he got to her neck, kissing softly and gently nipping at her pulse. 

“I don’t doubt it,” she moaned, tilting her head back for him to stay there longer. He began rocking his knee back and forth, wrapped his arm around her waist and jutted her hips out slightly to position her perfectly on the tensing muscle of his thigh. 

She grabbed at his hips with both hands and gasped at the friction on her clit. She started to roll her hips to match his movements, fumbling with his belt, struggling only because he wouldn’t keep still and her hands were shaking with desire, but she got it off eventually. 

He pulled away from her before she could unbutton his pants and she pouted at him.

“Come sit on daddy’s lap,” he mocked her words from earlier with a laugh, sitting down on the bed. He patted his thigh for her to continue riding, and while the thought of that was hot, she was hung up on him calling himself daddy, even if it was a joke.  

“Ewww,” she complained, holding back laughter. Still, she made her way between his legs and straddled one of his thighs, kissing his cheeks and forehead rather than plopping down and riding his thigh. 

“Can I take the titty tape off?” He asked, lowering the neck of her dress to peek at the tape that matched her skin tone. She nodded, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter, and settled onto his thigh, busying herself with loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. 

“What if I tattoo your name on my body?” She murmured. Dean shifted his gaze away from her chest to look at her inquisitively, blindly and carefully peeling off the tape from the skin of her breast. “Not a tacky tattoo, maybe Times New Roman, font size 10,” she replied playfully, dropping a chaste kiss to his parted lips.

“Oh,” he uttered shyly, and stayed quiet for a couple of moments. “Where?” He finally asked, giving her time to think before moving to her other breast to remove the tape there. She pondered for a while and then shrugged.

“Maybe… my finger,” she answered, wiggling her middle finger mischievously at him—as if flipping him off. He laughed at her, balled up the tape now that he was done, and threw it on the floor. 

“No….” He disagreed gently, grabbing her hand to close her fist, then kissed her knuckles. She bit her lip, smiling shyly when he looked up at her through his thick lashes. 

“No?” She questioned, rolling her hips against his thigh, her knee gently brushing against his erection. He shook his head and moaned, leaning forward to press hot and wet kisses along her neck. 

“Maybe here,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of her neck, nipping at her pulse point. She gasped and squirmed against his thigh, fisting his white t-shirt in one hand and burying her fingers into his hair with the other. “Or here,” he suggested, squeezing her breast, “maybe here would be better,” he added, then slapped her ass hard enough for her to yelp and jump. 

“All three of those places, then?” She teased breathlessly, rolling her hips slowly and sensually. He sucked softly at her clavicle, then dropped a few kisses onto her breasts. 

“Definitely,” he approved, dragging his lips up to her shoulders, letting his mouth push away the thin straps of her dress. “My favourite places.” She chuckled, squirming impatiently on his thigh. She guided his lips back up to hers by tugging at the short strands of his hair, choosing to nibble on his lip teasingly until he crashed his mouth against hers. “Need you…” he whispered between needy kisses, and slowly started to lift her dress upwards.

While she removed the dress, he shrugged off the white dress shirt, struggled a little when the sleeve got caught around his watch. “Fucken…” he grunted, unbuttoning the cuff with irritation.

“Don’t worry, baby, I love taking my time with you,” she laughed, pulling the t-shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants.

“Well, me personally? I don’t wanna have to pull out halfway through sex because Sammy’s on his way back. Not again,” he said seriously, lifting his arms to help her remove his shirt. She gave him an empathetic smile which quickly turned into an amused one when she remembered how uncomfortable and sensitive he had been the rest of the day. “It’s not funny, I was about to come, but fucken Sam had to text…” he pouted, then smiled when she started to laugh. 

“Yeah… as funny as that was, I really need to come right now,” she conceded and climbed off his lap to remove her underwear. Dean reached out excitedly for them, playfully brushing her hands out of the way to pull her underwear down swiftly. 

“I want you to come, too,” he said, licking his lips. She laughed quietly, holding his shoulders for balance, lifting her knee up so he could take her underwear off completely. “On my dick, though, not in my thigh,” he clarified, immediately pulling her back into him. 

He dropped impatient kisses along her waist, forcing her to climb onto the bed on her knees, before moving his mouth upwards, his hands exploring her smooth body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, closed her eyes and unsuccessfully tried to steady her breath. She held him close to her, let him slowly pull her down onto his lap until their hips met. 

“Dean, you gotta get your pants off,” she sighed. 

“Stay,” he breathed, rolling his hips up into hers as a promise of what he’d give her. She moaned in surprise, whining when he pulled away and spread his legs, forcing her to do the same. Cool air passed between her soaked folds and she gasped.

Awkwardly, he fumbled with his slacks’ button between their bodies, careful not to make her shift or fall back with his brisk and eager movements. He shoved the pants down his legs, boxers sliding down right along with them, and kicked them off his feet.

He didn’t care about doing it properly and immediately drew her close to him when he heard the sound of his clothes hitting the floor. She laughed against his mouth, reached down between their bodies to wrap her hand around his cock. 

He cursed softly against her mouth, grabbed her hips roughly and moved her hastily onto her back. It didn’t stop her from playing with him, teasing him by rubbing the hot and hard length of him through her folds. When she made a ring with her forefinger and thumb, he roughly sank his teeth into her shoulder and groaned loudly, freezing at the overwhelming pleasure of her fingers tightening around him and moving upwards in precise twists.

“Goddamnit,” he hissed, “shouldn’t have… told you I like—ah, shit!” He jolted, bucking his hips involuntarily when she started to massage underneath the head of his cock, nearly losing himself and nearly giving into the threat of his orgasm. “No.. wait,” he whined, weakly stopping her with his hands around her wrist.

“You sound so fucking hot when I do that,” she chuckled, “you know I can’t help myself, Dean.” Still, she let go of him and licked her fingers clean of the precum that coated them. 

“I have something in mind,” he started suggestively, placing a rough kiss on her lips. She hummed softly and sucked on his lip, watching him move down her body with his lips and hands. He pulled away from her completely and positioned himself in the centre of the bed, patting the spot between his legs. 

“You and your slutty little imagination,” she teased, crawling up to him. She parted his thighs, kissed along the inside of his soft—slightly scarred—skin and licked up a stripe of the underside of his cock. He groaned, reaching out for her arm when she twirled her tongue around the leaking tip, sucking gently on the soft head. 

“Enough of that, beautiful,” he murmured, tugging her upwards by her arm and away from his dick. She pouted, letting go of his cock with a loud and obscenely wet pop that made him groan. “Lean back,” he instructed delicately, licking his lips when she brushed her wet lips against his teasingly. 

With a small ‘okay’, she complied, leaning back with her hands flat behind her on the bed, her two thighs resting on either side of him. “Now, what?” Dean wrapped his hands around her knees instead of replying, and started to bend them upwards. She wiggled around slightly, moving with him and bit her lip when he slid his hands beneath her knees to hold her waist. 

One of his hands migrated from her waist to wrap around his cock, guiding himself slowly and teasingly through her folds. She became flustered, staring at him with her knees bent over his forearms.

“This is…” she trailed off, cheeks red and heart beating wildly behind the cage of her ribs. 

“Very hot,” Dean finished for her. He let go of his cock just to reach over to the bedside table where his phone was resting. She looked curious at him, thinking maybe he’d check on Sam before they got started, but instead he opened the camera and swiped until he was on the video recording section. “Is this okay, babe?” He asked, gazing back into her eyes, his thumb hovering over the red button. 

“Yeah, D.” She nodded, chewing shyly on her lips. “Do you have way more videos of us fucking than of us doing.. ya know, cute romantic shit?” She asked, not caring that he was already recording. He scoffed, positioning the camera to capture her dripping folds, her breasts, and the bottom half of her face rather than his body.

“This is romantic,” he told her matter-of-factly. 

“Mm, yeah.. right,” she snickered and lifted herself up using the strength of her arms so she could then lower herself on his cock. 

“You don’t think so?” He grunted, watching lewdly as he stretched her pussy open, slowly disappearing inside her warmth. “I think it’s pretty romantic, watchin’ videos of how I fucked you… jerking off to them when I miss you. Listening to how needy and desperate you get for me when you’re about to come…” He explained explicitly, holding her waist tightly, when their hips met completely. 

“It’s not just about the sex, baby,” he added, gazing into her eyes. She bit her lip and slowly started to lift herself back up again. “It’s about how it makes me feel. How you make me feel. It’s about time. Makin’ you mine, givin’ myself to you, lovin’ you, you lovin’ me in return, us.. being vulnerable.” She squeezed around him tightly and sank back down, her gaze soft. “It’s romantic that there’s no adios afterward, nothin’ for us to hide from each other during, just you and me barin’ our souls to one another… it’s about us.” He pulled her even closer just to kiss her passionately. Her thighs were practically pressed against the front of her body, somehow he managed to sink deeper into her, and he rocked his hips upwards so her clit brushed against his pelvic bone.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, moving one arm to wrap her arm around his neck instead. He smiled against her mouth, and blindly set the phone down on the nightstand, skilfully getting enough in the shot without much fumbling. 

“C’mon, baby, you said you needed to come…” he whispered against her jawline, “so make yourself cum.” Dutifully, she began moving a little faster, trying to find a perfect cadence in this new position. 

He mouthed at the skin of her neck and chest that he could reach, careful to leave very light marks so she could wear that sexy little dress again, and let her take control of everything. Almost immediately, she was able to move at the perfect pace, towards her orgasm and his.

Gasps and grunts, moaning and groaning, they held onto each other trying to bring each other toward their orgasms unhurriedly. She tipped her head back and tried to pull him impossibly close. With the impact of their hips, her clit was stimulated with a pleasant grind of his hips moving upwards, and this time, rather than doing what they always did—slowing down when they were close to extend the proximity of their organs, increasing the intensity of it—he breathily encouraged her to keep going. 

He mindlessly praised her and confessed his love like he always did when he was close, meeting her thrusts far gentler than she was. Still, with one hand behind her and the other in his hair, she tugged on the hairs at the top of his head hard enough to make him moan loudly. His bruising grip on her waist didn’t let up, and his blunt nails dug into her back, waiting for her to cum before he could.

A few more strokes of his cock against her g-spot had her walls pulsing around him, gasping and panting his name, and pressing her forehead against his shoulder as her orgasm finally crashed over her. 

She dropped kisses along his shoulder and neck, shuddering from her orgasm, and with a loud grunt of her name, Dean came inside of her. Slowly, they stopped moving and tried to catch their breaths while holding each other closely. She played with his hair and he soothed her bruised waist with calloused palms, then leaned forward all the way until she was laying on her back to kiss her face lovingly.

“Porn worthy?” She teased quietly, resting her hands on his waist waiting as he made a cute path along her face with kisses to reach her lips.

“I could go a second round,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. He slowly rolled his hips against hers, still buried deep inside her. She groaned softly and wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging him to keep moving, and wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss anything vulgar he was about to say. 

Dean froze above her when he heard footsteps from outside their hotel room, pleading internally that it was random people passing by, but deflated when he heard Sam speak to Donna. “…I hope they found something.” 

“Shit!” Y/n whispered, trying to push Dean off her when the doorknob began to rattle, but Dean didn’t budge, knowing it was no use and wanting to use his body as a shield. 

“Well, the jig is up,” he joked, watching her throw her arms over her chest instead, glaring at him half-heartedly. 

“Dean, your phone!” She reminded him, but Dean shrugged just as Sam swung the door open and stopped mid-sentence with Donna exclaiming some sort of phrase in surprise. Y/n would have laughed at whatever it was she said—Donna’s refusal to actually say a swear word—but she just groaned in annoyance.

“Seriously, guys? Every time!” Sam shouted, apologising to Donna quietly who brushed it off with a quiet ‘it’s okay’. 

Donna sneaked one tiny glimpse at the naked couple just as Sam turned around for them to get dressed. Dean smirked smugly and winked at Donna, then looked away to watch as he pulled out of his girlfriend, their cum spilling out of her. His cock was hard again and Y/n shook her head, waiting for Dean to get the phone and get moving.

“You do realise that it could've been Taweret making you guys…” Sam scolded, filling the silence up as Dean gathered their clothes. Donna blushed and turned around as well, grateful that Sam didn’t mention her hesitation in turning around sooner. 

“Uh,” Y/n stammered, pulling her clothes on when Dean handed it to her. 

“You have a point, Sammy, but we usually do this, anyway, so…” Dean spoke up, giving Y/n a hand so she could stand on slightly shaky legs beside him. “‘sides, I did find something…” Dean announced, pointing to his laptop on the table. With a hard slap on Y/n’s ass, Dean walked to the bathroom to get cleaned up, grasping her small hand with his to bring her with him. 

“Sorry,” Y/n laughed, apologetically bowing her head before following Dean to get herself cleaned up as well. As she walked, she could feel Dean’s cum drip out of her, her panties wet and cool between her legs made her uncomfortable but she kept them on, washing her hands with Dean standing next to her doing the same.

“Well, they’re still cute,” Donna said brightly, trying to brighten Sam’s sour mood, but it only worsened when he opened Dean’s laptop and the open tab was a sex page with a list of positions to try. 

“Seriously, Dean? Close the damn tabs!” 

“Whoops,” Dean snickered, gazing at Y/n who only rolled her eyes at him, affectionately smiling. “Gonna play this video real loud tonight,” he whispered with a grin, shaking his phone in his hand, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead. 

“That’s really funny, but no,” she chuckled, bringing him down for a soft kiss when he pouted at her childishly. 

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[jensengirl83]

Wounding Words

Dean x reader

Warnings- ANGST, some fluff

Word Count-2713

Summary- Y/N gets hurt on a hunt. Dean gets angry that he almost lost her, and takes his anger out on her and pushes her away. Will he come to his senses before it's too late?

A/N- This has been on my Patreon for a few weeks. So, it's time to bring it to y'all. This is just one of a few stories on my Patreon right now. You can join my Patreon here

Y/N watched as Dean paced around the war room. It had been a rough hunt, and he was seething. She had seen him mad before, but this was different. He seemed like he wanted to burn the whole world down with his anger, and that was a little scary. Especially, since his anger seemed to be directed towards her as well. 

She and Dean had been a couple for almost a year. It had taken them a long time to get to where they were. Y/N with her insecurities, and Dean with his self-loathing, had kept them from giving in to their feelings for years. She didn’t think he would want her with her love handles and thicker thighs, and he was afraid that if he gave in to his feelings, something bad would happen to her. And Y/N was almost positive that he was so angry because he and Sam nearly lost her on their hunt. 

They had been hunting a vamp's nest. They had gotten down to the last few when Y/N saw one sneaking up behind Dean. After beheading the one in front of her, she ran to try and behead the one behind Dean before it could reach him. It was all working out just fine, until she stepped on a creaky floorboard, alerting the vamp that she was on the move. Before anyone could react, it was on her, teeth in her throat. Sam had made it her and threw it back for Dean to decapitate. But, not before the damage was done. As she lay bleeding out on the floor, Dean holding his hand to her neck, she could feel her body giving out. She was saying her goodbyes to Dean, but luckily, Sam had the wits about him to pray to Cas, who showed up just in time to heal her. Dean hadn’t acted right since, which led them to where they were now. Which was him pacing in front of her, the rage rolling off of him, as Sam tried to talk to him. 

“Dean,” Sam tried to speak, but his brother cut him off as soon as his name left his mouth. 

“No, Sam. Don’t try to tell me that it’s fine now. Everything is so damn far from fine,” he roared, slamming his fist down on the war room table, making Y/N and Sam flinch. 

“Dude, she’s alive. Cas healed her. It could’ve been so much worse. Be thankful that we didn’t lose her.”

“Dean,” Y/N spoke softly as she approached him, “I’m okay. I know you were scared. I was too, but I’m here. Let’s just move on from today, okay?” 

“Move on? You want me to just ignore that you were stupid and almost got yourself killed,” he yelled, flinging her hand from his arm as she touched him. 

“Dean!,” Sam chastised his brother. He knew he was scared and going to say things he didn’t mean, and he wanted to prevent this from getting any worse. 

“It’s the truth,” he growled, deflecting Y/N’s touch once again. But he was looking at his brother and didn’t see the pure agony she was in hearing his words, “She was reckless and almost died! You just want to act like it never happened?”

“Dean, please, I don’t want to fight with you,” she muttered meekly, barely holding in the tidal wave of tears that wanted to escape. 

“Well, you should’ve thought about that, huh?” he said sarcastically, driving the hurt deeper into her heart. 

“I’m sorry. I saw the vamp coming after you, and I couldn’t just stand there and watch it kill you!” 

“Oh, so you didn’t want to watch me die, but I had to stand there and watch you bleed out? The hypocrisy with you is astounding. Just leave me alone,” he huffed.

“Please,” she tried, pleading with him one more time, wrapping her arms around his middle, “Let me fix it. I don’t want this to linger between us.” 

“You can’t fix it! I watched you bleeding to death in my arms! If Cas hadn’t shown up, I’d be burning your corpse right about now! And you think a hug is going to fix it?” He screamed, throwing her arms away from him, “That’s another thing. I don’t always need you to try and fix everything. I’m not a damn child! You know what, I can’t do this. I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” 

Y/N stood there heartbroken as she watched him stomp up the stairs and out the door. In all the years she’d known him, he’d never talked to her that way. Her body was frozen as Sam ran after his brother, the slamming of the bunker door brought her out of her stupor. Against her will, the tears began to flow down her face, her heart shattering in her chest. She ran for her room, grabbing her duffle and throwing her things in it haphazardly. She had to get out of there. She couldn’t be there to see the disdain on Dean’s face when he came back. What she didn’t know, was Dean had never made it to the impala. Sam had reached him before he could get away. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, man? I know it was terrifying thinking that she was going to die, but don’t you think you should be hugging her a little tighter than usual instead of pushing her away?” Sam exclaimed as he grabbed Dean’s arm, spinning him around to look at him. 

“Look, I don’t need a lecture from you. Pushing her away is what I have to do!” 

“What are you talking about? You love that girl, and you can deny it all you want, but I can see it, Dean. So, explain to me why you’re trying to shove her out the door?” Sam asked, thoroughly confused by his brother’s actions. 

“Because! Loving her is only going to get her killed! Tonight proved that. She almost died trying to save my sorry ass. I’d rather her be gone than watching her burn on a pyre one day. I can’t do it,” Dean shouted, his voice breaking with the emotion he was trying to keep hidden.

“You really are a dumbass. Y/N did what any other hunter would’ve done in that situation. You need to get your ass back in there and apologize before you lose one of the few good things you have.” 

“I can't, Sammy. No matter how I feel about her, I’m poison. I break everything I touch, and despite how much I love her, I refuse to be the reason she gets killed. She deserves so much more than me, or what little I can give her. She probably doesn’t even feel the same way about me, anyway. So, I need to end it now, before it’s too late for her to get out and find someone she deserves.” 

“You know that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that you love a woman out loud? And you’re going to let that slip away all because you don’t think you’re good enough? You’re the stupid one, dude. Y/N loves you too, you idiot! Everyone can see it but you, apparently. You were too busy throwing your little hissy fit in there to notice how you ripped her heart out and stomped on it. She was broken when you turned around and walked away. Someone doesn’t get that look on their face unless someone they love hurts them. And, man, you hurt her bad. But, if you want to walk away from that, go ahead, but you’ll live to regret it. You know what they say, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.” 

Sam turned and walked away, leaving Dean there in a stupor. He hadn’t thought about watching her expressions as he went on his tirade. He was scared and trying to push her away. His only train of thought was getting her to leave so she could find someone better. As he stood there, trying to think of what to do, what Sam said kept playing on a loop in his head. 

“You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.”

As he stood there with that repeating in his head, he had to face the truth. Could he really watch her leave? Could he live the rest of his life without her, not knowing where she was or who she was with? That’s when he realized he didn’t really want to lose her, he’d let his fear overrule his heart, and he knew then he needed to try and fix it. His legs were moving before he knew what had happened, leading him straight to her door. He could hear her crying as he approached and it broke his heart. He did this to her. He made her cry, breaking her heart with his cruel words, and he hated himself for it. He knocked on her door before his self-hatred and guilt made him walk away. 

“I don’t want to talk right now, Sam,” her voice carried through the door, making him feel even more guilty. She sounded so broken and dejected, and it was all his fault. 

“It’s me,” he spoke softly, trying to let his voice convey how sorry he felt, as he waited for her reply, but there was nothing. He knocked again. Silence. 

“Sweetheart, I just want to talk.” 

“I think you said enough, don’t you?” she answered, trying to sound stern, but he knew her well enough to hear the apprehension in her tone. 

“Please,” he almost begged, wanting to fix this. But just more silence. 

He laid his head against her door, her silence speaking volumes. She was done, and it was his fault. He took a deep breath before speaking to her one last time. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was scared. Watching you dying was more than I could take. I wanted to make you leave, so you could find someone you deserved, someone you could be with that didn’t risk your life every day. Honestly, I deserve to lose you. Like I told, Sam, I break everything I touch, and I broke you with my words. And when I said I didn’t need you to fix me, I lied. I need you, sweetheart. I need you like the air I breathe. Y/N, I’m so sorry. I can never take those words back, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but can you please forgive me?” he pleaded, whispering the last three words, “I love you.”

He stood at her door waiting to see if she would open the door, but nothing. Complete silence. He’d done it. He had broken her heart and hurt her beyond repair. With a sigh, he placed his hand on her door, trying to commit her to memory.   

Y/N was on the other side, listening to what he had to say. Her head told her to make him leave, but her heart told her to open the door and let him apologize. She heard a pitiful sound come from the other side of the door, and that made up her mind. She flung the door open to see him standing there, tears falling down his face. 

“D-Did I break us?” he managed to choke out through his sobs. 

“Do you mean it?” she asked, her red-rimmed eyes boring into his. 

“Yes! I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t deserve you, but if you’ll have me, you’re all I could ever want. I let the fear of losing you get to me, and I know I can’t take back what I said, but I’ll try to make it up to you every day for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he rambled through his tears. 

“No, not that. The last thing you said.”

“That I want you to forgive me? Of course, I meant it!” 

“That’s not the last thing you said, Dean.” 

“I’m lost, sweetheart. That’s the last thing I remember saying.” 

“Never mind. You obviously didn’t mean it if you don’t even remember saying it,” she sighed, stepping back to shut the door, when it hit him what she was talking about. He grabbed the door before she closed it on him. 

“Yes, I meant it. I love you. I love you so much that it terrifies me. That’s why I lost my mind when you almost died. The thought of losing you made me sick with grief. And I know I tried pushing you away, so me saying that doesn’t make much sense, but after I thought about living the rest of my life without you in it, I realized I can’t. I can’t live not knowing where you are, or if you’re okay. I need you, sweetheart. I need you to be there with that beautiful smile when I walk into the kitchen every morning. I need you to give me hugs like you do when I’m having a bad day, and most of all, I need you to fix me when I get so broken that I don’t even know how to begin to fix myself. I love you, Y/N. And I want to spend the rest of my days proving that to you if you can forgive me,” he sniffled, reaching to cup her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs as they streamed down her cheeks. 

“I forgive you,” she whispered, placing her hand on his cheek, him leaning into her touch, “I never wanted to leave you.”

Hearing that she forgave him, made his heart swell. He smiled, leaning in to kiss her. He tried to pour everything he felt into the kiss. How guilty he felt, how sorry he was, and most importantly, how much he loved her. The kiss was soft but passionate. One of those kisses that don’t lead to anything sexual, but still toe-curling. Once they had to part to take a breath, he couldn’t contain his smile. She really forgave him. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” he repeated the sentiment, realizing how good it felt to say it to her. 

“I love you, too, Dean. I have for a long time,” she admitted, her declaration making his breath hitch. 

“Really? You love me, too?” he whispered in astonishment. Even though Sam had told him that she loved him, he didn’t truly believe it. He never thought he would be worthy of love from someone as good as her. 

“Don’t be so shocked, babe. Contrary to what you believe, you’re a good man, Dean Winchester, and I’m a lucky woman to get the chance to love you,” she stood on her toes, kissing him softly, “You just have to start believing it yourself.” 

“Did I tell you I love you?” he chuckled, her words meaning more to him than she’d ever understand. 

“I think it’s been said once or twice,” she laughed, him joining her. She loved to hear him laugh. It was music to her ears. 

“Just once or twice?! Well, I think we need to fix that, don’t you?” he beamed, cupping her face once again to kiss her. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, kissing her between every declaration. 

“Dean Winchester, one might think you’re secretly a hopeless romantic,” she cackled, joy filling her to hear him say he loved her. 

“Only for you, sweetheart. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.” 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Dean. I know you’ve loved other women,” she sighed, not really liking to think about Cassie and Lisa. 

“I’m not lying. I have loved two other women, but sweetheart, it’s nothing like what I feel for you. I mean it. What I felt for them doesn’t hold a candle to the love I have for you.” 

“I love you,” she said in awe, seeing in his eyes he was serious, “More than I can ever describe.” 

“Well, that’s good. ‘Cause if I have my way, you’re stuck with me for a very long time.” 

“That sounds perfect,” she giggled, pulling him down to her for another kiss.

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[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Pretend You're Mine

This is my first entry on my 2024 @jacklesversebingo card. It will fill the "I don't like people touching what's mine." square. The quote will be bolded in the fic.

Summary: Y/N knows the person standing in her bedroom isn't really Dean, but it's hard to keep that in mind when he's so close.

Pairing/Characters: Demon!dean x Y/N

Warnings: Mostly all smut. Oral (f. receiving). Overstimulation. Light bondage. Use of a belt (no spanking). Brief, light choking. Edging. Rough, unprotected PinV sex. Slight breeding kink. Slightly Dom demon!dean. Slight dub-con. (Warning out of an abundance of caution.) Angst.

Word Count: 3,673

A/N: This is my first entry for jacklesversebingo 2024! I'm so excited to participate again this year. So much fun last year. Hope you guys enjoy my naughty little demon!dean offering. 🥰

A/N 2: Edit: I'm a doofus, cause I also meant to mention that this fic was filling this request I got from the lovely @viviwatchestv I hope you feel like this fic captures the feeling in that song of the inescapable pull of the bull towards the Matador, even when you know it's no good for you.

These lines especially inspired me for the beginning:

Your stare is steely and your tongue is sharpened Can carve me like a steak knife

Hope you like it, hon! ❤️

Y/N walked through the door to her bedroom in the dark, tossing her sweater onto the chair in the corner as she flicked on the light. As the room lit up, a movement across the room caught her attention and she gasped and cut off a scream as she realized who it was.

But then her heart started beating triple time as that realization sank in.

Dean stood just in front of her open window, the curtain blowing lightly behind him in the soft October breeze that blew through. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt over his gray t-shirt, and well-worn, dark blue jeans. 

He looked so cozy and soft and so much like himself that Y/N almost ran into his arms immediately, but she stopped herself. No matter what he wore, or whatever he looked like, this was not Dean. His eyes were green and shining at her from across the room, but she knew they could blink black in an instant. 

This was not Dean.

As she stood silhouetted by her doorway with her hand on her chest, still breathing heavily, Dean smiled lazily. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Scaring the shit out of you wasn’t really how I’d planned on making you gasp and pant tonight.” His expression was warm and teasing, and his voice had butterflies pirouetting in her stomach.  

Y/N forced the feelings of elation and desire down where they belonged, and dropped her hand from her chest, closing it into a fist at her side. Her voice was still breathless, though, as she spoke. 

“What are you doing here? Get out.”

“I missed you.”

Y/N shook her head. “No you didn’t.”

Dean tilted his head. “Sure I did. Haven’t you missed me?”

Y/N gritted her teeth against the pain that shot through her when she thought about how much she missed him. No, how much she missed Dean.

Dean stepped towards her a bit and she took a step back before realizing that retreating was pointless. There was nowhere she could go to escape him, nowhere he couldn’t follow. So, she looked him in the eye and let her anger show. 

“No, I haven’t missed you.” Her voice was still weaker than she’d like. “Get out.” She repeated.

He drew closer, barely three feet separating them, and shook his head slowly. “I know that isn’t true. I’m the love of your life. You told me the last time, remember?”

Y/N’s chest tightened further as she remembered the last time she’d seen Dean, how she’d begged him to come back to himself, kissed him desperately as though true love’s kiss could somehow wake him up, or force him to shed the monster of his twisted soul. But the demon had just laughed as she told him how much she loved him.

That had been almost a month ago, and every day since had been torture; she did miss him, so much. She spent her empty days remembering him and her empty nights aching for him. She craved him like water in a desert. Looking at him now, all long limbs and tall, solid strength, the pull towards him was magnetic and irresistible.

She shook her head again, trying to gather her scattered wits. This is not Dean. She reminded herself. She nodded slightly.

 “I do miss Dean, every day. But you aren’t him.”

He tilted his head slightly, an action so reminiscent of her Dean that it felt like he was reaching inside her and crushing her heart in his fist.

“Like I told you before, sweetheart, it’s still me.” He shrugged. “Or mostly anyway.”

Y/N closed her eyes. “You’re a demon. You’re not Dean.”

He chuckled softly and her eyes popped open again to watch him. He shrugged one shoulder. “Actually, I’m both.”

He moved to stand right in front of her, and she dropped her eyes to his chest; looking at his beautiful face so close up was just too much. But he wouldn’t let her look away, tipping her chin up with his knuckle as he spoke soft and silky.

“The Dean in me misses the way I could make you smile, and the demon in me misses the way I could make you scream.” Y/N’s eyes bulged as another seductive smile slid onto his face. “I came here for both.”

Dean slipped his hand up to cup her cheek, pressing his thumb against her lips and then slipping the tip of it into her mouth. She gasped and turned her head away, closing her eyes, desperately hoping against hope that he would leave, while deep down her soul was begging him to stay.

When she turned away from him, Dean let out a questioning hum. “Hmm, interesting.” He said quietly. “Maybe you don’t miss me anymore. Maybe good ol’ what’s-his-name is taking care of you these days.”

Y/N snapped her head back to face him, fear filling her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Dean’s expression turned calculating. “I’m talking about you and loverboy out and about earlier.” His voice dipped to a sinister whisper. “I saw you.”

Y/N felt a drop of dread slip down her spine when she thought of the sweet guy from work, who’d taken her to coffee this afternoon. Her voice wavered as she asked the question that terrified her. “What did you do to him?”

Dean’s expression shifted, becoming slightly mocking. “Nothing permanent.” He shrugged. “I don’t need to draw more of that kind of attention.”

Quick as a flash he had her by the throat and twisted them both so he could drive her back into the wall. His grip was not tight, but it was binding, ensuring she couldn’t move as he bent his head, skimming his lips up her neck and then nuzzling his nose behind her ear and making her tremble.

He pulled back slightly so he could look her in the eye, his gaze unwavering and scarily focused as he warned her.

“But I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”

His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her throat as he continued to stare at her and in spite of her fear and heartache, she could feel her stomach tighten, and her panties get damp.

She shook her head slightly. “I don’t belong to you.”

His gaze hardened. “Yeah, you do.”

She opened her mouth to argue further, but he slammed his lips down on hers, immediately thrusting his tongue into her mouth and swallowing her protests. She brought her hands up to grab at his forearm, trying to pull it away from her, but he let her throat go, so he could grab both her wrists in a vice-like grip and slam them against the wall on either side of her head.

He shoved his knee between her legs and rubbed against her soaked center. She couldn’t stop the whimper that slithered its way out of her mouth, making Dean chuckle. His voice was knowing and triumphant as he spoke against her lips. 

“You want me to go, baby? Just tell me. Want me to stop?” 

He let go of her wrist to slip his hand under her t-shirt and cup her breast in his big hand, squeezing hard enough to send a pulse of need straight to her cunt. He smiled wickedly as though he felt it too. 

“Just tell me to stop then, sweetheart. That’s all it’ll take.” He taunted her in deep, silky tones.

He let go of her other wrist and she dropped both hands onto his broad shoulders. With his free hand he flicked open the button at her waistband and lowered her zipper. Y/N was shaking her head back and forth, trying to convince herself that she wanted him to stop. 

He was moving incredibly slowly, giving her ample opportunity to refuse, to push him away, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t put a stop to the pleasure coursing through her veins as his hand slid down her pants and into her panties to find her clit and swirl around it softly.

Instead, her head fell back against the wall with a hard thump as she tried to press down harder against his gently probing finger. But he wouldn’t let her, pulling his hand away whenever she tried, and making her whimper some more. He laughed outright at her neediness, licking her lips open to claim her mouth again.

After a few minutes, he pulled both of his hands off her body and braced his palms against the wall, one on either side of her shoulders, trapping her within his solid, unbending frame. He breathed against her lips, and she chased them as he pulled away from her. He shook his head. 

“Uh uh. Stay or go, baby, what’s it gonna be?”

She stared into his burning green gaze and tears filled her eyes as she capitulated. “Stay.” She whispered.

It wasn’t Dean. But it felt like him, smelled like him; he kissed her the same, his touch hadn’t changed, and she missed him so much. Her body never stopped aching for him, her heart never stopped breaking over his loss. But now he was here, and her body didn’t care about what was different, and her heart could pretend for a night.

So she nodded and repeated herself as she frantically pushed the shirt off his shoulders. “Stay. Don’t leave me.”  

Dean growled at her surrender and as she slipped his t-shirt over his head, he ripped hers off her body, followed quickly by her bra. In one smooth motion he grabbed her by the waist, twisted to face the bed, and then tossed her onto it. He reached her in two strides and grabbed her jeans by the cuffs, yanking them down and off of her.

She trembled under his gaze, with only her panties still on. She watched him unhook his belt with his right hand as his left reached out to rub against the wet silk of her panties. They completely flooded as he slowly pulled his belt off; the leather made a soft whoosh over the denim as it slid through the loops. He dropped it to the ground and Y/N jumped at the sound of the metal buckle hitting the floor with a loud thud. 

He rubbed harder along her slit, causing her to moan loudly and throw her head back, pressing it into the mattress. She looked up again as she felt the bed dip as he climbed on, kneeling between her legs. His torso was bare and beautiful as he towered above her and she reached up to run her hands across his wide, broadly muscled chest and down over his flat stomach. 

He lifted her further up the bed and then bent her in half as he pushed her knees into her chest, sinking down slowly and kissing a path down her leg as he pulled her panties off.

Almost as soon as they were off, he was on his belly with his mouth buried in her cunt. He wasn’t gentle; he wasn’t teasing. He sucked her clit into his mouth and drew on it deeply. Her knees locked against his ears, and she screamed out her immediate climax. 

He let her legs stay clamped around his head as he continued to fuck her with his mouth -  through that climax and into another, and then several more.

Each subsequent climax was more drawn out than the last. Every time she came, he slowed everything down even further so that he could tease and torment her for longer, even as her nerves became more and more shredded with pleasure. So that by the end, all he was doing was kitten licking her over-stimulated clit, but she was so sensitive that it felt like white hot fire licking her, and it made her scream and beg for him to end the torturous pleasure. 

Eventually he pulled away, and Y/N was almost too woozy to notice that he was shedding his jeans and underwear. He came back to her and flipped her onto her hands and knees without effort, but her muscles were exhausted, and she was wobbly on all fours. 

Dean reached over her to grab a pillow from the head of the bed. “Put your face in the pillow.” He instructed roughly as he tucked it into her arms.

Y/N pulled it to her gratefully and sank her upper body down onto the bed, laying her flushed cheek against the cool pillowcase, and pushing her hips back towards him so he could claim her body.

But instead he stood up. Her blood started pumping hard and fast when she saw him pick up his belt and walk back to the side of the bed. He climbed back up and got in position behind her again. The belt was folded in half and he slid the cold leather slowly up and down her pussy making her shiver.

“Dean.” She whimpered. “Please.” 

“Please what, sweetheart? What are you begging for so prettily?” He asked.

She felt her cheeks flame brighter, but she was beyond trying to be demure or coy. “Please, fuck me.”

Dean chuckled lightly. “You sure about that, baby? You didn’t seem too happy to see me earlier.” He set the belt down beside her and started to move off the bed.

”Maybe I should go like you told me to.”

Y/N sat up quickly and grabbed his hand as he stepped onto the floor. “No, I told you to stay.” 

Dean shrugged. “But first you told me to get out. That was practically the first thing you said to me. Hurt my feelings. I should go.”

“No, don’t!” Y/N cried out and she was humiliated by her desperation. But still she sat on the side of the bed, clinging to his wrist and shaking her head. “Don’t leave, please.”

Dean leaned down and kissed her softly, sweetly. “Okay, I won’t go if you tell me that you want me.”

“I want you.”

“Only me.”

“Yes, only you.”

“Tell me what you want me to do to you, Y/N?” 

Dean’s voice was soft and seductive as he reached out his big hand to squeeze her breast. Y/N bit her lip against the pleasure spike as he pinched her right nipple and she quickly breathed out her answer. 

“I want you to fuck me.” She admitted again.

“Do you want my cock, Y/N? Do you need me to fill you up with it? Pound into you endlessly till I prove I fucking own you?”

Y/N nodded, but Dean shook his head. “No, baby. Tell me.” He picked up her hand and wrapped it around his dick. “Pump me fast and tell me what you want me to do.”

She began pumping, but he tapped her fingers. “Use your slick to slide better.” She reached down to scoop up the wetness that coated her pussy, and began pumping him again with her wet hand.

Dean grunted. “Fucking yes. Tell me, sweetheart.”

“Yes, I want…I want you to fuck me with your cock, fill up my pussy.”

“And pound you till I fucking own you?” He reiterated.

Y/N nodded. “Yes.” Shame burned in her heart as she begged him. This wasn’t Dean. She should be letting him leave, telling him to go. But it felt like she’d explode into a million pieces if he walked away now.

Dean nodded and immediately manhandled her onto her hands and knees again, facing away from him, but this time he stayed standing, at the side of the bed behind her. 

Directly across from her was a large standup mirror and she could see them reflected in it. Dean smiled wickedly and she knew he’d manoeuvred her into this position on purpose, so she could watch him fuck her senseless.

He pushed the pillow over to her and she laid her head back down on it. Then he picked up his belt and pulled her arms behind her back, wrapping the leather around her wrists so they were bound at the small of her back. 

He stepped up close behind her and she felt the tip of his cock teasing her entrance. He slid into her excruciatingly slowly. When the head of his cock was notched inside her he stayed like that, without moving for what felt like forever to Y/N.

She was whining at him, desperate for him to push further, but every time she tried to push back against him, he'd pull back out a little.

“Dean!” She cried out, frustrated and needy

But he just laughed and landed a swat to her hip. “Don't be greedy, sweetheart. Take what I'm giving you. If you want more, ask me nicely.”

Y/N shook her head even as she whimpered. “Please, Dean, give me more. I need more of you, all of you.”

He gave her another teasing half inch and then another as she begged him. 

Finally when she was weeping with need and achingly tense muscles, he fisted his hand in her hair and yanked her head up so she was watching in the mirror. With one hand in her hair and the other on her belted hands, he slammed himself to the hilt inside her clenching walls. 

Y/N screamed in pleasure at the sudden invasion, even though it stretched her to the limit. Dean pulled back until he was almost out of her body before wrenching her back against him as he thrust deep and rough.

He continued to fuck her, pound into her as she'd begged him to, pushing her through countless more orgasms. He angled his cock in such a way that every single, brutal thrust, hit her g-spot perfectly. 

“Dean.” Y/N's voice was weak with exhaustion. “Please, I can't take anymore.”

Dean's answer was a particularly deep, hard thrust and a growl. “You're gonna take everything I give you baby. I told you, you're mine.” 

He pulled out and slammed back in again, making her scream out another moan as she came on his cock again, having completely lost count of how many orgasms he'd fucked out of her.

As he slammed into her again, he bent over her to grunt into her ear. “I'm gonna come, sweetheart. Want me to come inside you? Fill you up, make a little demon baby?”

Fear exploded in Y/N’s brain as some of the fog of want and need lifted and she shook her head. 

“No, please don't do that.” She whispered. 

Dean just laughed again and rutted into her deeper than ever.

She was shaking her head. “Please, don't.”

But before she'd even got the plea out, Dean was pulling out of her and pumping his cock fast. Thirty seconds later he threw his head back with a ragged roar and spurted his cum onto her ass and up her back. She watched him in the mirror and her cunt was clenching again as she saw his muscles tense and go rigid as he thrust into his hand. 

As she watched, his eyes popped open - slick like oil and bottomless black. The sight made her start to cry, partly because of the reminder that this wasn't really Dean, but also because, in spite of that, she knew she wanted him again, still; she knew she didn’t need him any less. 

There was still a part of her heart that clenched pleasantly at the idea of carrying Dean's child, even if she knew it would be a monster.

I'm sick. She thought, and as Dean let go of her hair, she laid her head on the pillow to weep quietly. 

Dean was shuddering with the end of his climax, groaning deeply. He let go of her arms too and she sort of sank onto her side. Reality and realization was beginning to flood back into her mind and with it came regret and shame. 

This wasn't Dean.

She looked over at him as he pulled his boxer briefs and jeans up over his hips. He buttoned and zipped them up before reaching behind her and unwinding his belt from her wrists.

He grinned at her as he slid the belt though its loops and buckled it. 

“Looks like I followed through on my promise.” His voice became hard. “You won’t forget who you belong to now, will you?”

He leaned down and squeezed her cheeks lightly as he sank his tongue deep into her mouth, making want and need begin to stir once again, starting to tighten that coil in her lower belly.

He pulled back, his expression triumphant and smug. “So, who do you belong to, sweetheart?” 

Y/N looked up at his beautiful face, black eyes receded back to shining green and felt her chest tighten; she thought of the way she'd begged him, the way she was coated in his cum, the way her body still responded to his simple touch, and she could only answer truthfully. 

“You. I belong to you.”

His eyes widened slightly, as though he didn’t think she'd actually give him the answer he was looking for. 

“Fuck yeah you do.”

He kissed her again, and it was slow and gentle and it was playing tricks with her mind, making her think that it was her Dean kissing her so sweetly.

He pulled away and his gaze was more intense than smug as he studied her. “Maybe I should come by more often to remind you. What do ya think?”

Something stirred in Y/N's stomach. Was it possible, or was she only deluding herself again? If she was with him more often, could she coax her Dean back to her, at least enough that the demon would agree to the blood cure?

Fuck it, she thought. Delusion is where I'm living now; it's worth trying.

So she nodded. “Yes, Dean.” She smiled at him lazily. “I think that's a very good idea. But next time, use my door.”

The grin that crossed his face was all Dean and almost no demon.

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