#eventually Dean just waits to feel the intense staring

[heliotrope155]

Thinking of the ways DeanCas find each other in crowds. Dean bemoans the one inch height difference and seeks out a trenchcoat even if it has been years since Cas consistently wore that, and Cas automatically seeks out Dean's bright soul, even if it's been years since he's been able to do that.

[wandering-winchesters]

Under the Stars

Summary: you share a quiet, intimate moment in the woods, where a simple hand-holding leads to a deeper connection under the starry night sky.

Word Count: 607

The evening was quiet, the kind of stillness that settled over the world just before twilight gave way to night. The air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth as you and Dean Winchester walked side by side down a winding path through the woods. The only sounds were the soft crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant call of an owl somewhere deep in the forest.

You had been walking in companionable silence for a while, both lost in thought, when you felt Dean’s gaze on you. You turned your head to meet his eyes, and the intensity in them made your heart skip a beat. There was something unspoken in that look, something that made the moment feel charged with electricity.

“Can I hold your hand?” Dean’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure what your answer would be.

For a second, you didn’t respond, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his tone. This was the same Dean Winchester who had faced down monsters and demons without flinching, yet here he was, asking you something so simple, so human, with a kind of earnestness that made your heart ache.

Without a word, you reached out and took his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. His grip was warm and firm, grounding you in that moment. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you standing there, connected by that simple touch.

Dean let out a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding, and you saw a flicker of relief in his eyes, as if he had been afraid you might say no. He squeezed your hand gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t a big smile, not the usual cocky grin you were used to seeing, but something softer, more genuine.

As you continued walking, hand in hand, the silence between you felt different—more intimate. Every step you took seemed to sync up, the rhythm of your footsteps matching perfectly, as if you were both moving to the same unspoken beat. The connection between you felt natural, like it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to be acknowledged.

The path eventually led to a clearing, where the trees opened up to reveal a stunning view of the night sky. The stars were out in full force, twinkling like tiny diamonds scattered across a velvet canvas. You both stopped, taking in the beauty of the scene, and you felt Dean’s hand tighten slightly around yours, as if he were anchoring himself in the moment.

“I don’t do this much,” Dean admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “The whole… letting someone in thing. But with you, it feels different. Feels right.”

You turned to look at him, your heart swelling with emotion. “It feels right to me too, Dean.”

He smiled at that, a real smile this time, full of warmth and something that looked an awful lot like hope. You both stood there for a while, just holding hands, staring up at the stars, and enjoying the peacefulness of the night. It was a simple thing, really, but in that simplicity, there was a kind of magic—proof that sometimes, the most powerful connections are forged in the quietest moments.

And as the night deepened, you knew that this was a moment you would both hold onto, a memory that would stay with you no matter where the road took you next. Because in that moment, under the vast expanse of the starry sky, you both found something you hadn’t even realized you were searching for—each other.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— LIVIN IN YOU

SUMMARY : dean actually loves reading. it should have been obvious what he’d enjoy reading the most. he doesn’t hate all books. he likes fun ones, ones with spice and romance.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS : nsfw(18+), smut, smutty thoughts, fluff, sub!dean, dom!reader

WORD COUNT : 4.9k

A/N : title from a song by radio company. I was doing research on erotic novels for this and Bared to You by Silvia Day was the first book that popped up so I started reading it as research and planned to read only one chapter. It was all I was gonna include but I ended up liking it, and finished it lmaooo X

Dean couldn’t sleep. His bed was too empty, too cold. He moved around trying to find a comfortable position to finally fall asleep in, before he groaned and stared up at the ceiling thinking of what to do to put himself to sleep.

Y/N was out really late with Cas and Jack getting dinner since Cas and Jack went out on a hunt together and succeeded. Dean had just showered and eaten when they came back and Jack was starving so Y/N kissed Dean goodnight and went to take Jack and Cas for a late night dinner.

He chuckled shyly to himself as his brain suggested something. He looked around for his headphones and then searched in his box where he had his porn. Y/N didn’t look inside because she wasn’t interested in it—having him and all that was her reasoning. He hasn’t looked at his porn in years but he still liked collecting it anyway and Y/N didn’t mind that he did.

He finally found what he was looking for at the bottom of the box, beneath the Busty Asian Beauties magazines he had. He was paranoid and embarrassed about the thought of Y/N finding this out. It was a book he hadn’t read when he first got it. He and Cas had gone to the library years back and he was looking for something to teach Cas about sex while Y/N and Sam stayed back at the Bunker, cooking.

Dean led Cas to the erotic novels sections at the bookstore in town and he started to pick random books for him to read, from LGBTQ+ to heterosexual couples, monogamy to polyamory, BDSM, and more. Even Dean learned a few new things and they made him realise how right Rowena was when she said he was “sheltered”.

Dean sat, cross-legged, in the middle of his bed and kept his sheets on his lap to keep him warm. He plugged his headphones into his phone and let Led Zeppelin play quietly as he tried to focus on the words of the book. He was shy about reading it, so he was barely on chapter six of the book titled Bared to You. It was intense and straight to the point while all at once being a slow burn.

The main character, Eva, reminded him a little of Y/N with her wit and stubbornness, while the love interest, Gideon Cross, reminded him of himself if he were rich and more intense.

He wanted to skip straight to the sex scenes, but since it was surprisingly good, he decided against it. Once he’d started reading it—thinking he’d fall asleep quickly a few days ago, he found himself enthralled and captivated page after page as if he hadn’t had much more intense and creative sex with Y/N at least every night and morning.

He enjoyed the book more by imagining it was him and Y/N as Gideon and Eva. It could at least explain the blush that flared up his neck to his ears and cheeks, and the way his cock stiffened and swelled inside his black boxers.

He never touched himself, he just kept reading the fucked up relationship between Eva and Gideon, grateful that—as fucked up as he and Y/N were, they didn’t have something as complicated or toxic as them.

He wasn’t very good at talking about his feelings or his troubles, but he got there eventually as he processed events. Y/N didn’t push, she was just there—waiting for him, and never complained. She trusted him and she was kind, which helped to make her trust him. It was easier since she knew how to handle her own emotions despite how powerfully she felt them. So much about her made him feel safe enough to feel whatever he was feeling without being judged, invalidated, or forced to talk about it.

He didn’t always tell her he loved her in the traditional sense—through words, but he hoped—when he kissed her, when he made love to her, when he cooked for her, when he held her hand, when he smiled at her, and everything else he did—that she knew it was his way of saying it when it was too much to say out loud.

The book wasn’t very long and it was occasionally real to him. He sometimes related to Gideon and Eva, to their trauma, the feeling of being undeserving of love, the fear of vulnerability and intimacy, the inadequate feeling self-hate caused, disgust, and using sex as a coping mechanism. Now, when he had sex, it was because of surges of love and lust from how kind and tender Y/N was with him.

He didn’t feel used or objectified by her, he didn’t feel good about himself only during sex. He felt loved, worshipped, beautiful, and worthy with every press of her lips on his freckled skin, with every movement of her hands on his body, with the adoring words whispered into his mouth, against his skin. He felt it outside of the bedroom when she gazed at him lovingly when he talked about anything at all—and there was a special little glint when he gushed about cowboys. He felt it when he ate and caught her looking at him already with warm and amused eyes, when she cooked and fed him, praising him and complimenting him for looking cute as he ate. He felt it when she listened and kept her eyes on him like he was the only one in the room worth looking at, the way she hung on his every word, and how she was kind to him despite all the hurt she’s felt. She was everything. There wasn’t a single moment he’s spent with her where he hasn’t felt it.

So, even though the story did stress him out sometimes, he liked comparing Gideon and Eva to himself and Y/N. It made him feel proud of their relationship and good about himself because Gideon was really frustrating to him—and yes, Dean was aware how he keeps stuff to himself as well. However, he had never inflicted such anguish on Y/N by doing so, and he can’t keep it inside very long when Y/N makes him open up like a flower when it’s kissed by the sunrise. It’s not forced, he’s not pressured, it's just natural that he does so, bending to her tender will.

He already knew, years ago, when he started to love her. But the moment he actually let it take him over was when he was fresh out of hell, when they stood by his car in the cold, outside that barn where they hid Anna from Uriel and Cas. And he knew he was done for when she looked at him like he was everything, even as she confessed to knowing what he’d done in hell, when he realised that it didn’t alter or affect her feelings for him.

His walls were obliterated as if they were hit by a meteor when she kissed him, when she stole his breath for the first time, when she touched him so tenderly. When he felt her naked skin against his for the first time, and she quietly chanted his name over and over when he claimed her inside the backseat of his car. He was devastated by the gentle caress of her touch, by her soft panting breaths as he teased her, by the taste of her, by the way she tasted him. He felt beautiful—like a star after its death—when he was inside her that night for the first time, when he’d made love to her like he’d never loved anyone else.

He’d always known she was the only person he’d truly love after that Djinn made her his girlfriend in the wish-dream many years ago. When he told her he loved her in that dream-state and as he said them, he thought to himself that those words were only for her, he swore to himself that he’d never say them to anyone.

He’d gotten to chapter thirteen in a breeze and he was still invested in the story. There was so much drama going on between the characters and he was blushing—not just from how hot the sex was, but because he was embarrassed that he actually liked the book.

Just as he got to another sex scene he shuddered when he felt a little draught and he jumped when he looked up and saw Y/N standing with the door open. She looked like she’d been caught, she was frozen and blinked at him with confusion and surprise.

Immediately, he closed the book and turned it onto its back to hide the cover, then removed his headphones. She relaxed and smiled softly at him, “I thought you’d be asleep.” She stepped forward, her eyes filled with love as she reached out for his face. He stared up at her with a deep blush on his face, he was anxious to be discovered by her, but he closed his eyes when her fingertips gently brushed across his cheeks.

“Couldn’t sleep without you,” he murmured and opened his eyes, glancing up at her through his thick lashes. Her smile widened slightly and she cupped the side of his jaw, letting him rest his breathtaking face in her soft palm.

“I’m here now,” she whispered. He smiled softly, lifting his hand to hold her wrist and moved it to his mouth so he could kiss her pulse. “Let me get cleaned up, I’ll be right back.” He nodded gently, closing his eyes when she leaned down to kiss his forehead. He leaned into her with a content smile, then offered his lips to her when she pulled away. A single press of her warm mouth on his made his lips tingle, but he let her walk away, and licked his lips as he watched her leave his room. He let himself bask in the aftermath of her tenderness for a few seconds. He just stared at the door she exited from, his eyes drifting away little by little as he bit his lip, deep in thought. Thinking of her—naked, mostly.

Shortly after, he made quick work of hiding his book where it had been and returned his headphones to where they were before as well. He sighed and threw his phone on the wooden bedside table carelessly. He felt a bit of adrenaline at the thought of being discovered and arousal from having been fantasising sexual encounters with Y/N.

Still, he innocently returned to his spot on the bed. He moved beneath the warm sheets of his bed—sitting, and rubbed his eyes when he heard his bedroom door opening again. Y/N was standing there for a while, smiling at the way he rubbed his eyes before she entered. She quietly closed the door behind her and walked towards him, “what were you doing before I interrupted you?”

He stared at the black shirt she wore. It was his Led Zeppelin shirt with a grainy black and white image of a zeppelin and orange coloured words. He smiled at how big it fit her—like a minidress. His adoring, honeydew eyes fell to her bare legs and her blue ankle socks with white clouds, to the grey slippers on her feet.

She climbed onto the bed and he bit his lip, shyly looking at his hands, “listening to music and reading some book about wraiths. It was interesting, so, uh, I couldn’t fall asleep after all,” he lied and she chuckled. She still raised a brow as she inspected his flushed state, and moved the sheets to straddle him, unaware that he was hard. He exhaled shakily when she sat back on his thighs and his hands flexed on her legs as she rested her arms on his shoulders. “How’d it go with Jack and Cas?” He cleared his throat and held her hips, hoping to change the subject even though he only wanted to pull her onto his cock.

“Good,” she murmured, “Jack wanted a burger, milkshake, and some fries.” She smiled down at him, then kissed his lips softly oblivious to the way it only fueled his lust. His eyes fluttered shut and he hummed softly. “Cas was just sitting there all stiff, but he relaxed a little when Jack started to ask questions about how all of the food they served was made.” She cupped his face in both of her hands, feeling his ticklish stubble on her palms and the heat of his blush. “You’re warm, are you okay?”

She sounded concerned and she brushed her lips against his forehead to see if he was sick. He only nodded to reassure her he was fine and captured her lips with his in a needy kiss. He brought her hips forward, finally letting her know what was going on down south. She gasped against his mouth at the friction against her clit and he groaned softly at the sound of it, tightening his grip.

“A book on wraiths made you hard?” She teased breathlessly, her eyes fluttering shut when he kissed the corner of her mouth. Her heart rate picked up with excitement and her skin started to get warm with the rush of blood through her body.

“Shut up,” he murmured, kissing across her jaw, nibbling gently on her jawline. He trailed his opened mouth down her neck, his tongue sliding against her soft skin, tasting her and breathing in the fruity scent mixed with the aroma of flowers in her soft hair. “I was thinking of you,” he told her, his voice deep and husky, it made her pussy quiver.

“What about me?” She whispered, her fingers buried in his short hair. He slowly moved his hands up her back beneath the shirt she wore and brought his mouth up to her lips, but he didn’t kiss her.

“The first time I was inside your tight, hot, wet little cunt,” he growled, taking a moment to see her reaction.

“Dean,” she gasped, her stomach fluttering with excitement. Pleased with her response, he pressed his lips against hers, passionate and thrilled with a newfound confidence. He pulled the shirt up and off her body quickly. Her hands returned to his hair to tug at the short strands, drawing out little grunts from him that went straight to her clit. He didn’t give her much time to catch her breath, instantly returning to her lips once he removed the shirt, not that she needed air as she robbed him of his own oxygen with the depth and passion of her returned kiss.

He gently prodded at the seam of her lips with his tongue and she opened up to him swiftly, a sudden neediness controlling their actions. He could taste chocolate on her tongue when he licked into her mouth, savouring the flavour of the milkshake she must have ordered as his fingers toyed with the hem of her panties. He felt his skin electrify when she moaned at the gentle strokes of his hot tongue.

“I wanna make you come,” he whispered against her lips. He pulled her closer, her breasts squeezed against his broad chest which was covered in a black Henley. The cotton rubbed against her breasts deliciously and made her nipples tighten. He turned her over onto her back with his arms around her waist and he watched her chest rise and fall with each breath she took.

He looked down at her, seeing her shiver now that she wasn’t warmed by his body heat and took a moment to admire as she laid naked beneath him. His eyes drifted away from her pink cheeks to look at her full breasts, down her slightly concaving stomach, and finally her pink underwear. His hands flexed on her thighs, slowly rising to her hip bones where her underwear was resting.

“Take me,” she whispered, reaching over to lift his shirt up off him as well, “however you want,” she told him quietly. He groaned softly at her words, quickly taking his shirt off to do as she clearly wanted him to. She stared up at him with wide eyes that swallowed him whole like beautiful, hungry black holes.

“Whatever you say, angel,” he murmured, looking away from her blushing face fro a few seconds just to remove his boxers. Like him, she’d looked away from his face to watch him strip completely, her little tongue dipping out to moisten her dry lips at the sight of his stiff cock. He looked up at the right moment, caught her quite literally salivating at the sight of his dick leaking at the tip. “Wanna taste?”

That was usually her line, when he’d stare at her glistening folds debating on whether to fuck her already or eat her out. Unlike him, she’d say it bashfully. She’d move his attention away from between her legs because she was just like that sometimes. He adored her to pieces with every fibre in his body.

As she crawled over to him, he sat back on his legs, his hands stretched out behind him as his cock bobbed with excitement. His eyes were on her, right where they belonged, watching her lower herself slightly and very teasingly dipped her tongue into his slit, tonguing away his precum. His breath hitched and his hands fisted the sheets, his hips instinctively moving upwards.

“Yummy,” she said playfully, moving up his body. He stared at her with parted lips, panting as his cock ached for attention, but her hands slid up his thighs and stayed there.

“Please,” he moaned impatiently. She blinked at him once, a little smile on her face making her even more irresistible. She shifted slightly, but his eyes were glued on her as she slowly trailed her fingertips up his cock. She became flustered and averted her gaze to his lips, leaning forward just a bit when he became a little too intense to stare at. Dean felt his lips tingle as they brushed against hers, but he let her have control, let her tease him by refusing to just kiss him senseless.

Her touch was teasing, light and slow as she moved her hand up and down at last. Her thumb swiped over the slit, spreading the warm precum that had started to bead out, her mouth watering at the sight. But instead of continuing to tease him, she moved onto his lap, pulled away from his face to guide his cock to her soaked entrance. And just with the sensation of her warmth around the tip, he whined.

The sound made her insides quiver and she cursed under her breath, a little smirk tugging at her lips. His hands clasped her thighs painfully, the tortuous way she slid down the length of him made him roll his hips up impatiently. The breath she took had caught in her chest at how good it felt to be this close to him once again.

Her lips were on his again, at last, swiftly aiding the passion that made her tummy warm, that made his body burn with so much heat he felt like a sun had started to burn inside of him. He loved it. Being loud on purpose. Losing himself in her completely and giving in, letting her take control and please him the way only she knew how to do.

A loud moan slipped past his lips, into her loving mouth when she sat fully on his lap. The way she tightened around him after each sound spurred him on. His hands moved up her sides, grasping tightly at her hips, hoping to mark her skin as he tugged her forward, fervently giving himself pleasure.

“Just wait,” she murmured against his lips, pulling away to push his shoulders until he was lying down on his back. He whined in response, bratty—cutely refusing to stop. His head tipped back, letting his body relax into the bed while he lifted his hips up, his lips parting to vocalise more of his pleasure. “You’re so fucking pretty,” she chuckled breathlessly, staring down at him—utterly enraptured by his impatience and his determination to make himself feel good.

“Need to cum so ba-Fuck!” He screwed his eyes shut when she lifted herself up and roughly slammed back down. She smiled and laughed, slightly amused and then leaned forward to kiss him, his eyes barely starting to open, only to flutter shut again when he got lost in her kiss.

“You’re so fucking desperate, D,” she teased, her lips brushing against his hairline. A whine from him at her words showed her that he liked it and she moaned in response, continuing to ride him as eagerly as he wanted her to.

His eyes were fixated on hers, heavy with lust, pupils dilated with both love and desire. The way she lifted herself with such agility tore more sounds of pleasure from his throat, deep and rumbling groans that came from within his chest and made her smirk smugly at him. It was so hot, it drew so much arousal from her that lifting herself up and down was embarrassingly smooth, the squelching sound of her pussy being filled by his cock echoed around his room and made his moans get louder.

His grip on her hips tightened, blunt nails digging into her flesh, his back arching from how rough she was fucking him, giving him so much pleasure he thought he’d explode. “Fuck, baby, ‘m so close,” he moaned. His mind was hazy, his skin burning hot and sensitive so that even the way she dug her nails into his chest added to his pleasure. He loved being on the bottom, more than he’d like to admit.

“I could cum just listening to you, Dean,” she panted, leaning over him slightly, one of her hands clutching the pillow his head rested on. She changed the angle of her hips, her clit rubbing against his pelvis, her other hand slid up his chest, wrapping around his throat and squeezing gently.

“Shit,” he gasped, his hips bucking upwards.

“You’re so kinky,” she chuckled, “how about you just cum already, D?” She clenched around him, a gasp slipping past his lips. He shook his head, his teeth digging into his plump bottom lip to hold back another moan, his stomach tightening as he tried holding back his orgasm. “Fine,” she chuckled, grinding down on him to stimulate her clit until he was whining, bringing herself closer to the edge as he squirmed beneath her.

“Oh… fuck,” he moaned loudly, his orgasm washing over him before he could even stop it. An arousing look contorted his face as he came, quick curses and whispers of her name puffing past his parted lips that left his mouth and lips dry, making him look so beautiful.

“That’s right, D,” she chuckled, biting her lip to muffle a moan when she felt the warmth of his cum inside her. She started to lift herself up and down again, hard and fast until she reached her own orgasm, her velvety walls squeezing him tightly, and he took it despite how sensitive he was starting to get.

He let her finish, his fingers bruising the flesh of her hips until she stopped shuddering completely. Her entire body turned to jelly, a little smile growing on her lips, gazing at each other in the slight darkness of his room. Only one lamp allowed him to see the state she was in, flushed and a little sweaty like him.

Her gentle eyes swept over his face, watching neutrally as he sat up tiredly, a languid smile on his face when their breaths became normal again, “I didn’t expect that,” he murmured hoarsely, brushing her hair to the side and kissing her cheek. She relaxed in his arms, placing a little kiss on his lips before resting her cheek on his shoulders.

“Y’know I don’t believe you, right?” She mumbled against his shoulder, smirking when his hands stilled on her back. He recovered quickly, his hands continuing to venture up and down her spine, ignoring the feeling of their cum oozing out of her.

“What do you mean?” he chuckled deeply, “I didn’t plan on us having sex tonight.” He knew he sounded unconvincing, but mostly he knew that she wasn’t talking about that at all.

“What were you reading?” She asked, pulling away to analyse him. He swallowed nervously, licking his dry lips as he thought about what to say, but he still felt dazed from his orgasm that no lie to get himself out of the situation came to his mind to rescue him. “Tell me, if it gets you this worked up, I might have to give it a read,” she teased, lifting herself off him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, smacking her ass when he saw she was purposely lifting herself up slowly. She plopped down next to him, rubbing her thighs together as her pussy continued to throb with. He bit his lip gently and admired her, dragging his hand up her soft and warm thighs to reach between her legs where she was completely soaked. “I’m too embarrassed to tell you,” he chuckled, gently massaging her sensitive clit.

“That’s okay because I already know,” she whispered, moving his hand away from between her legs so she could return to his lap. His lips parted, a look of confusion and embarrassment turned his face red, his lips parting with no words being formed. “I clean your room, D, it’s not just magically without dust all the time.. Plus I’m curious about your porn, okay? Some of those ladies are crazy fine,” she chuckled, kissing him passionately.

He pulled away from the kiss, giving her a dirty look that made her laugh. “I’m going to throw them out if you say that again,” he pouted, his fingers mindlessly caressing her thighs.

“Don’t be jealous of them, you know you're my only girl, Dean,” she teased, burying her fingers into his hair and tugging him forward to give him one of the best kisses of his life. He moaned softly, his hands flexing on her thighs, instinctively bringing her closer so her body was pressed against his. He whined against her mouth, pouting at again. Her teeth dug into his plump lower lip, seductively pulling it before she let it go and smiled down at him.

She snickered when she saw the confused look on his face. “I don’t even know what that means,” he mumbled cutely, tracing a few freckles on her legs. She sighed dramatically and grinned at him, getting up to clean herself with a random hand towel he had in his drawer.

He watched her naked body move itself away from him with another pout on his face, waiting for her to look back at him. She did eventually, smirking and shaking her head. He blushed, becoming a little shy, he turned over onto his side to watch her but also to stop himself from doing things to get her attention.

She turned the water on in the sink and leaned against it to clean herself up, letting him see his work. He held his breath, heat spreading over his face like a fire in the forest, his hands clutching his pillow. His eyes were fixated on her every movement, inspecting the way she spread her folds open to clean herself thoroughly despite the sleepiness that made his eyes heavy.

“Enjoying the show?” She smirked, glancing up at him. His eyes snapped up to her face and he shrugged with a little laugh.

“Always.” She stood normally and walked towards him again, into his soft bed until she was right next to him. The towel was slightly wet, and she folded it to use a clean part on him, carefully taking his soft cock to clean him. He hissed quietly, watching her face at first, and then watching how gentle she was with her hands, reaching down to his balls to clean where their cum and her arousal had dripped down. “Round two?” He whimpered and she smirked, pulling her hands away from his dick.

“As horny as I still am, you need to sleep, baby.” Her shoulders shook with silent laughter and he nodded, a lazy smile growing on his lips. He loved this. She moved out of bed to place the dirty towel somewhere to remind herself to wash it tomorrow, and then to wash her hands before she made her way to his drawers to pick a clean pair of boxers for him and clean panties for herself.

She slipped the Led Zeppelin shirt on again and handed him the Henley he’d been wearing, but he childishly put it on the nightstand, “no, I want easy access in the morning,” he whined, stopping her from taking his boxers to him. She laughed softly, then returned their underwear to the drawer neatly.

“Does that mean I’m the little spoon tonight?” She asked, amused, taking his shirt to fold it neatly and placed it back in place. He nodded, fixing the blanket so she could join him beneath them. “Okay, pretty boy,” she murmured, smiling as she made her way to him beneath the sheets, kissing him softly and mumbling goodnight against his lips before turning around. His arm slung over her waist, a happy smile growing on his lips, snuggling closer to her warm body as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

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[casdeans-pie]

Did somebody say snippet from my current wip?? Misuse of prayer anyone????? I just wish I could get to the part where Cas says, "I really don't think you would want to be doing this with your brother in the room." because Dean is inadvertently doing the angel equivalent of whispering intimately straight into Cas's ear. Angels are so goddamn weird and I cannot wait to write this whole thing.

---------

Boredom itched under Dean's skin. He hadn't even registered most of what he'd read on the last few pages, just turned over onto a new one every minute or so. His head sat heavy in his hand, elbow planted onto the table next to his book, and he had to resist the urge to yawn as he turned another page.

Dean glanced up at Sam, sat further down the table, with his nose pressed down close to his own book. If Dean had any hopes that Sam might be struggling to concentrate as much as him, he didn't see any evidence of it.

Cas, of course, looked as interested as he always did. He sat directly opposite Dean reading a huge book with an intensity in his expression that would be the same whether he was reading apocalyptic scriptures or nursery rhymes. A fond warmth settled in his chest.

Dean tried to follow their example and return to his own research, but after only a few minutes his leg began to bounce.

Eventually his mind wondered to the book that he'd been writing himself. It had been difficult to think of how he could write a book on Angels and get the information that he needed out of Cas without telling him about it. But a silent room, with all of Cas's focused attention on something else, felt like a perfect opportunity to get some material on prayer...

Dean tried to clear his mind (easy enough, not like he'd been paying any attention to his book) and had to resist the urge to physically clear his throat before starting.

"Cas," Dean thought, trying to make it loud inside his own head.

Dean peeked up, but Cas had had no reaction. Dude didn't even blink.

Huh.

Either his poker face is just that good, or it hadn't worked.

Thinking it loudly wasn't the same as praying, Dean supposed.

He breathed out slowly and stared at Cas, drinking in every detail of him. Praying meant faith, right? He had that. He absolutely had that. More fucking faith in Cas than anyone in the whole world.

"Cas..." slipped out of Dean's mind in a whisper, a plea, a declaration of that unwavering faith.

Cas gasped and jumped so violently that his knees slammed against the underside of the table.

"Cas? You okay?" Sam called over, concern pinching his eyebrows together.

Cas stared intensely at Dean, eyes narrowed, and he didn't even look away as he replied, "Fine, thank you, Sam. I... read something shocking in this book."

Sam looked unconvinced and switched his attention to Dean.

Dean shrugged in a you-know-what-Cas-is-like way, and eventually Sam returned to his book with a long suffering sigh and a small shake of his head.

Cas looked like he was trying not to react, but Dean knew by the hard line of his mouth that he was deep in thought, probably unsure if he'd heard anything at all. Dean had to smother a satisfied grin.

The prayer worked!

"Cas!" Dean prayed again, digging even deeper into the well of faith he had in his best friend.

This time Cas's eyes snapped open and his whole body jolted, as if he'd been struck by an electric current.

"Cas, this feels really weird and I'm not even sure I'm doing it right - but uh, this is a prayer to you, blink twice if you can hear me..."

Cas bowed his head, took a deep breath, and gripped the edge of the table.

Maybe he hadn't heard that time? Dean settled himself into his chair and tried to really think about what Cas meant to him - and how despite everything they'd been through he wouldn't hesitate to trust him with his life.

Amongst the certainty of his belief there was something tangled up in it all that felt much warmer and softer and sweeter. He tried not to examine it too closely, but some of that delicate warmth leaked into his internal voice when he prayed, "Castiel, Angel of Thursday, best buddy - breaker breaker, come in, can you hear me? I feel kinda dumb doing this, but... just give me a sign you're even getting any of this? Over."

For a second nothing happened, and Dean wondered if he'd screwed it up by throwing in the two-way radio stuff.

Dean placed his palms together under the table, wondering if that would help too. "Oh, right. Uh- amen."

Suddenly the lights above them buzzed and flickered dramatically, while a lamp in the center of the table popped and went dark.

Cas bent over even further, touching his forehead to the table, and let out such a long, loud breath it was almost a groan. He stood up from his chair so quickly it clattered backwards and he rumbled a quiet, "Excuse me," as he swept out of the room, before either Winchester could react.

Sam looked at Dean sharply.

Dean threw his hands in the air. "What?"

"Whatever you've done, go fix it."

"I haven't done anything!" Dean said on impulse, but his heart raced in his chest and the back of his neck burned just remembering that low, tortured sound Cas had made before his swift exit. The lights had returned to normal, but the casualty of the lamp bulb lay in shiny shattered pieces on the table. "Okay. Maybe I did do something. I'll go check on him."

[captain039]

PART 4 Craving the wild side

Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: AOB, mentions of medical things, mentions of needles, mentions of abuse, feral alphas, light swearing, angst, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, sexual things, eventual smut, death

Summary: after being rescued from a police raid feral alpha Dean Winchester his placed in the rehab process where he’s a struggled case till you come along. Having his feral ness cloud over his emotions and stop him feeling it’s hard to get through till him till dreams enter his mind and yours connecting you both and doctor/patient becomes more and harder.

Last part <-

The dreams didn’t stop, they kept happening your life with Dean, more intense more real as the week went by, every time you’d ask him about nightmares or how he slept he’d turn the question on you like he knew. Did he have the dreams too or could he just sense a change? Whatever the case you were showing progress with Dean you had conversations, well his side was more simple sentences and one word answers but it was still a form of speech.

Today was your report day, you started fresh on the office letting the other Dr talk with Dean. You worked with Dean Sunday to Thursday and reported Friday. Saturday was your day off, usually you helped your mum on those days or laze about.

You typed away on your laptop before you heard alarms. Your office was relatively close to Deans room so you knew it was from there. Your stomach churned and anxiety filled you as you ran out and saw Dean charging at a guard and knocking them both to the ground. He was out of his room teeth bared eyes dark, he’d gone feral for the first time in a week.

“Wait!” You yelled as more guards tried to attack him. Dean was punching the life out of the guard, before choking him.

“DEAN!” You yelled but it didn’t get a response and you cursed softly.

“Alpha!” You yelled and his head snapped. He panted drool coming down his chin, he looked like a wild animal. He stood and the guards stopped as he approached you. You felt yourself began to shake as he stalked to you. He towered over you eyes menacing as he stared you down. A guard went to approach but you held your hand up slightly stopping them. You took a deep breath as you lifted a hand up and cupped his cheek.

“You’re ok” you whispered stroking his cheek gently. The guards began to help the ones attacked and helped them to medical bay while a few stayed. His eyes seemed to ‘clear’ and he frowned staring at you. He went to look behind him but you lifted your other hand and forced him to look at you. You shook your head softly and you saw the realisation hit as he began to panic. His scent went sour and you cursed your implant. He began to shake and you tugged him closer. He almost fell on you as he buried his head in your neck. You gently ran your fingers through his scalp as you shooed the guards away. Other doctors were there too, looking at you. You knew this was against company policy but he would’ve killed that guard. You felt a drop on your shoulder and your heart clenched, he was crying, he was doing so well with you each day. You wrapped your arms around him every cell in your body wanting to comfort him and take him away to be safe. Screw it if you got fired, your alpha needed this. You frowned when a few doctors got close a collar in their hand.

“No-“ you spoke but it was too late and Dean shot up.

“No” you muttered touching the collar and glaring. They began to move Dean back to his cell while another held your arm. Dean frowned looking back to you before he was in his room.

“A word” one of the head officers said. You nodded simply following them down the hall numbly.

“Your behaviour was highly inappropriate and goes against our rules, you know any interaction outside of medical is forbidden!” She snapped and you just nodded. You felt a pit in your stomach, he was collared now, like some dog who misbehaved.

“Dr Y/L/n I don’t think you realise how serious this is” she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I do” you muttered staring at the floor.

“What’s the matter with you?” She asked frowning and you shrugged. You felt exhausted like you were the one who just tried to kill a man.

“Have you taken the test?” She asked suddenly and you frowned looking to her.

“What test?” You asked.

“The true mate test” she said and you froze.

“I won’t” you said sternly.

“He is my patient Rowena! I’m going to get him better and he will be a man again” you said standing up.

“Y/n” she sighed.

“Or fire me” you muttered sitting back down awkwardly.

“You know I have a soft spot for you” she smiled.

“Continue your work, let’s just not have another accident ok?” She said and you nodded relief flooding you.

You went home early that day, you wouldn’t see Dean till Sunday now. As you got home you were quick to fall on the couch and huff. You heard your mum in the kitchen making a hot drink.

“Tea?” She asked and you groaned a yes in response. It was one of her better days, able to move around. Your mum was ill no cure kind of ill, doctor gave her months but she’s still here after a year of that appointment.

You heard her shuffle and place down the drinks before she sat down herself.

“Geez you smell like alpha” she commented huffing and you sighed sitting up.

“What happened?” She asked worried as she saw your face.

“He almost killed a guard I was able to pull him out of his feral state, I didn’t know what to do I comforted him and he cried on me mum” you felt tears in your eyes.

“I couldn’t comfort him properly like a good mate would!” You blurted and she frowned.

“Mate?” She asked quietly.

“I didn’t-“ you quickly took a sip of your drink.

“He’s your mate?” She asked again.

“I don’t know” you muttered.

“I’m having dreams of him, after the fight I felt so drained like I was punching with him, I don’t know, he only speaks to me too” you sighed nursing your drink. Your mum smiled though, not the reaction you were expecting.

“Why’re you smiling?” You asked.

“Because you found your mate! Even if he’s in rehab” she shrugged.

“We all know your father needed it” she scoffed and you rolled your eyes.

“Dad wasn’t that bad” you chuckled softly.

“You’ll be able to get through to him quickly, fix him up, but it’ll also come at a cost, he’ll go feral easily around you, to protect you” she stated and you nodded.

“Got your hands real full, hopefully I can meet him before I hit the dirt” she smiled and you saddened.

“Yeah me too” you whispered.

Next part ->

Tags

@spnfamily-j2

@globetrotter28

@deans-spinster-witch

[saltandburnheathens]

Till the road runs out.

Characters: Dean Winchester (Mentioned Castiel, Sam, Jody, Jack)

Pairing: None.

Summary:

Dean is diagnosed with cancer and he's uncertain about telling his loved ones.

Notes:

Am I channelling my own trauma into this? Maybe. Will I continue this if it proves popular? Also maybe. If I did it would eventually be Destiel, more than implied.

Title from Swim Good by Frank Ocean.

The waiting room was clinical and cold and smelled of cleaning solution. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with greying hair and a welcoming smile, tapped away at the computer, pausing to answer phones and chat with patients. A few other people sat spotted around, some slipped through magazines while others talked in hushed whispers to companions brought along for comfort.

Dean was alone nursing a cup of coffee picked up in a nearby Starbucks. His knee jerked up and down as he tapped a rhythm onto the wooden arm of his chair. He’d never felt nerves quite like this. Sure, he’d faced off against hellhounds and demons and fucking Gods, but this was a completely different ballpark.

It’d all started a few months ago when he’d felt a burning pain in his stomach. In the beginning, he thought it was indigestion. He wasn’t twenty anymore and his diet and drinking habits weren’t exactly taken from Men’s Health Magazine. But soon it grew more intense and then it got harder and harder to keep things down, his throat feeling much too tight to the point of choking some days. While he hated anything in the way of medical procedures, something had to give when he had to punch a hole in his belt for the third time in eight weeks.

So here he was for the second time in just over a week, waiting in a stuffy hospital in Hastings, waiting to talk to a stuffy doctor about what the fuck else could possibly be trying to kill him. Deep down he knew the answer wasn’t good when she’d called and asked for him to come in for the next available appointment. She’d advised he bring someone with him, but of course, Dean hadn’t told Cas, or Jack or, God-forbid, Sam. As far as they were aware, he’d been feeling under the weather with a stomach bug and nothing else.

“Mr Mustaine?”

Dean looked up to see his doctor waiting by the reception desk. She smiled at him, her eyes creasing at the corners. With a sigh, he went to greet and follow her back to her office, past a wall of certificates and several other doors leading off into several other rooms.

“How have you been?” She asked, swinging open the door to her office.

Dean stepped inside and took a seat. “The same.”

“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” The door shut, and Dean turned to stare at the desk as she crossed to sit behind it. “You didn’t bring anyone.”

Dean shook his head. He wanted to be snarky, make a snide remark like, ‘Sure, I brought Mr Invisable, you can’t see him?’, but he thought better and chose instead to chew on the inside of his cheek.

“I see.”

“Give it to me straight, Doc. How long I got?”

She leaned back in her chair, her hands coming to rest in her lap. His file lay forgotten on the table.

“Now, Mr Mustaine -“

“Call me Dean.”

“Dean. We don’t need you thinking like that.”

“But it is cancer, right? Throat, or possibly stomach?” He sniffed, bringing his knuckles up to brush against the stubble on his chin.

“Stomach cancer, yes. Stage one, so it’s treatable. But it is one of the more aggressive cancers in the book. I won’t lie to you.”

Dean chewed on his lip and glanced out the window, watching the birds flutter in and out of the maple trees. She continued talking, providing more information than anything, so Dean took the time to digest the diagnoses before being bombarded with the nitty gritty. He thought about getting sicker and skinnier and Castiel worrying and Sam and Jack. About where he’d end up when he, inevitably, died and how fucking horrible it was going to be leading up to that. He damn near moved on to cursing himself out for getting himself there when the doctor leaned forward and gently shook his shoulder.

“Dean? Dean, can you hear me?” She asked softly.

He shook himself, “Yeah - yeah. Sorry. I just...needed a minute.” Clearing his throat, he straightened up in his chair. “So, stage one. Where do we go from here?”

“Well, there are a few more tests to do, just to verify a few things. But with the position and size of the cancer, you will be eligible for surgery after a few rounds of chemotherapy.”

“Can I still work?”

“That depends on your job in the early stages. But after surgery, you will need to rest for upward of three weeks. Is your profession particularly strenuous?”

Dean chuckled, thinking back to a few of their more challenging hunts lately. He rubbed at his wrist that had just left plaster a month ago after a bad run-in with a skin walker in Iowa.

“Could say that.”

“You can work during chemotherapy as long as you’re comfortable. It’s common to experience exhaustion, nausea accompanied by vomiting, muscle weakness, dizziness -“

“Yeah, I get it. I’m gonna feel like hell. Doesn’t matter, I’ve gone to work after drinking a bottle of whiskey. You ever go to work after a night on the brown? Not pretty.”

“I respect your ambition.” She smiled and lent forward to flick through his file, “I’d like to see you back here tomorrow morning for some scans and blood tests, and then we can get you started on chem as soon as Monday."

That was less than a week away, Dean thought. He had less than seven days to figure out how to work cancer into his schedule. Worst of all is that he had to find a way to tell the trio back at the bunker, and his mom, and possibly Jody, and the girls. Honestly, there were too many people in his life that ought to know but that he couldn’t imagine telling. Of all things to finally take a Winchester out, it was cancer. Even if he wasn’t dead, he’d still eventually be just as useless.

He arranged to come in at eight the next morning and took all the pamphlets going, despite declaring that he’d never read them. But when bringing a support companion with him, he shouldered the question and excused himself. She sighed and walked him to the door in silence.

The walk to the car and subsequent journey home melted together in one long string of thinking about his life and everything that’s possibly led him to this point. He’s been drinking since he was old enough to get away with it, smoked for over twenty years and ate worse than most teenage boys. It was a miracle he was in such good condition, besides the obvious. Maybe it was none of those factors at all, but the unrelenting stress and grief and mental anguish that sent his stomach twisting that was the catalyst for those little abnormal cells to multiply. Maybe it -

And then he was home, pulling up Baby in front of the bunker and turning off the engine. He sat stalk still, knuckles white from his grip on the wheel, and contemplated his next move. The rain started, that dull mist that wasn’t quite water but wasn’t quite wind, and he listened to the small spits sounding off the car roof. It was over before Dean decided to put one foot in front of the other and just go the fuck inside.

[sterekotypes]

WIP Wed - Now On Whichever Day Because Deadlines Are Fake Social Constructs To Make Me Feel Bad About Procrastination

Fresh from the keyboard here is another chunk of the Cowboy AU:

Stiles saw him at the edge of the bar. The man with the dazzling chain. His hat was pulled low, but not low enough that Stiles couldn’t make out the brush of stubble along his jaw or the pretty curves of his lips as they caressed the glass he was drinking from. He was covered in a layer of travel dust that he hadn’t bothered to shake off. The man looked up. His eyes devoured Stiles. Skated over his face, down his neck, over his shoulders, and his chest where Stiles was still clutching his jacket close. When the man was done with his inspection; his eyes, so clearly full of secrets, met Stiles’ again. Then he glared and turned away. Stiles blinked. That’s the fastest he’s ever angered someone. He didn’t even get a word out this time. Stiles wasn’t in the business of letting potential marks daunt him. They all fell for his charms eventually. Stiles walked with forced casual steps until he was standing in front of the patron. Then he placed his forearms against the bar and leaned into the man’s space, until the man was forced to lean back or find his face pressed into Stiles’ chest. “Howdy.” Stiles smiled even as his heart kicked up the pace. The man just glared at Stiles again. “We don’t get many gentlemen like you in town,” Stiles tried again. The man didn’t even open his mouth. “What’s got you traveling all alone?” Still nothing. “The silent type. More satisfying when I get it out of you.” Stiles winked. “Let me guess. You’re …  Logan! The oil baron, come here to tell Old Man Gridle that parcel of land he’s holding onto is worth millions in black gold.” Nothing. “You’re Dean; a fourty-niner who got rich on his last excursion to California. I’m sorry to tell you Dean, I’m not fond of men who mistreat the natives.” Somehow the glare got more intense. It had to be the eyebrows. “Go away.” “He speaks! I must be getting close. You are… Peter! The banker. Oh! The bank robber, and you’ve just finished a heist and are hiding from the law.” Stiles watched as the man’s eyes went panicked. “Stay away from me,” The man growled, pushing back from the bar. Stiles reached across the bar to grab his wrist before he could rush from the room. “Wait.” Stiles was nearly yelling. Rushing to get the words out. “I won’t tell anyone about your bank heist, Peter. You don’t have to-“ “Derek.” The man stopped staring at where Stiles was holding onto him long enough to look at Stiles. “What?” Stiles blinked. “It’s – Don’t call me Peter. My name is Derek.” “Derek, then,” Stiles smiled and released Derek’s arm. “You don’t have to go.” Whatever loquacious spirit had flooded Derek earlier had vanished. He seemed to shake himself briefly before slamming his drink back. He turned on his heel and moved from the room at just too fast a pace to be a walk. “Nice talking to you, Derek!” Stiles called at his back. Stiles was rewarded with one final glare before Derek disappeared up the stairs.

Tagged by @dear-massacre

If you see this and want to join, please do! Tagging is hard

[sastielsfandom]

Not only do I feel like my blog needs some joy in it, but I need it for my sanity. 

So here's a jumble of my random thoughts I've had these past few months that I haven't been able to share since I've been busy. Also, I'll throw in some fic ideas cause why not. 

One fic I've had that I'm still trying to flesh out a bit. Sam lives in a fishing town, and he's a diver. He spends a lot of time in the water even outside of his job. 

On one of his days off, he finds himself face to face with a mermaid. But days before this he kept seeing these blue eyes everywhere and when he finally faced them, they were more  captivating than he ever could have imagined. 

He doesn't tell anyone, and instead, the next day, looks for the mermaid again. Away from the docks. And it meets up with him again, but this time, they talk. 

Sam finds himself in a routine, no matter what, every day he meets up with this mermaid, Castiel. 

The thing is it's getting harder and harder to walk away when he sees Castiel's disappointment when Sam leaves. 

When Sam does eventually miss one day, due to things out of his control, the next day, Castiel doesn't show up. Sam waits there until nightfall, still no appearance. 

The next day, even with doubt, Sam visits, and he finds Castiel and someone casting a spell. A spell on Castiel who's screaming in pain as he transforms into a human. 

There's a lot more to this AU, but I don't want to give away the whole story, it's one of my favorite AUs to work on even though I don't have anything published for it yet. 

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Another fic I've been meaning to work on is my soulmate's AU. I have a cool idea of when Sam and Castiel meet, Castiel being fully powered, still connected to Heaven, and Sam, still being in tune with his powers, there's even more of a magnetic pull between them. And it hurts to touch, but in a way that is hard to let go of. That mixed in with the fact that both of them can now see every color they missed before, the feelings must be intense in that scene. 

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Just in general though for Sastiel, the idea that the two have trouble identifying reality, and end up becoming each other's grounding anchors is a neat idea. Especially as they spend more and more time together, they know each other so well, it's easier to separate their minds from messing with them and what's reality. 

I've written about this for Sam, and Castiel helping, but I haven't had Sam be that anchor for Castiel yet. 

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A step away from romance, my headcanon that Dean loses his hearing from Castiel using their true voice, I've added onto it. I think the idea that both Sam and Dean learn ASL because it's necessary, and it gives them an advantage when they can't say anything, but can sign something. 

So when they eventually meet Eileen, it's funny to think that Sam gets so flustered he just messes up ASL despite using it all the time with Dean, but also, Dean and Eileen communicating in ASL is everything I need. 

Especially because they'd be able to bond over losing their hearing from something supernatural, and adapting from it. That's something that I eventually want to write someday. 

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Oh, another AU is where Kevin doesn't die. And instead, ends up being a brother figure for Jack because Kevin knows for a fact that the Winchesters and Castiel know nothing about raising a child. And so someone has to make sure this poor child isn't completely screwed and traumatized. (He is well aware that he is also screwed up and traumatized but it's no mystery why he is, stares pointedly at the Winchesters.) 

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Oh, a very old idea I've had is Jack, Magda, and Elijah finding a stray animal, and promptly sneaking it into the bunker. That one is such a fun prompt, I just haven't been able to do it justice. 

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Returning back to some romance, I have to spread the saileenstiel propaganda of course. I do think it very much starts off as a, we both like Sam, and Sam likes us both. But when they can see Sam has plenty of love for the both of them, they are able to see that they like each other as well. 

Oh, I'd also love to write something with them having a day out with Elijah, Madga, and Jack. Maybe at the beach or a nature hike. That would be fun to write. 

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I was also brainrotting a lot for Dean and Cassie, and what if Dean did go back to see her. Or what if he didn't go to Lisa but to Cassie. Which I'm unsure if I've talked about before. Either way, I'm talking about it again. I still very much want to write a fic about their first date or the first time they just lounged around doing nothing but it felt like everything. 

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Also, I really need to finish my Debriel fic, it's written but not written. The dialogue is there, as well as rough, very very rough, actions, it just needs to be edited. And some motivation to return to it. 

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I would love to do more crossover fics, especially like Marvel and Supernatural. I have a few started, I just never finish them. Apart from the one with Jack and Peter which was based on a textpost. 

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Switching to Marvel, Interwebs, I want to write about them again. One of my fics made me miss them which was rude because it's unfair that my writing can make me miss my writing. 

I want more cuddles and dates and just overly sweet fluffy fics for them. And maybe some more bittersweet ones as well. I don't know why but I like the bittersweet idea for them.

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I've been meaning to write a winterfalcon fic for ages, even just based on a text post or something, I just tend to forget I can write about them. 

Same thing for thunder science (Bruce and Thor), any ideas I have for them I forget I'm a writer. 

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Kind of want a fic of Valkyrie too, no idea what though, I just think she'd be fun to write about. 

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I had some minecraft ideas too, like for Hermitcraft, but once again I feel as if I can only write for Supernatural and sometimes Marvel for some reason. 

I have an idea that I do return back to go quite frequently, where it's Phil, Kristin, Technoblade, Wilbur, and Tommy going to visit Phil's brother, Grian. In Hermitcraft season seven. That idea I've chipped away at for a while. I have a good intro but haven't worked out a good plot. So it hasn't gone anywhere. 

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I've also had some fics for Wilbur's characters but they're all pretty depressing/dark so they usually get put on the backburners. 

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I wrote a Spider-Boo fic once, and I'd like to return to that idea again, especially because I had Aimsey in it, and I liked writing their dynamic. 

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Stranger Things is interesting to write for, I haven't tried anything complicated yet, just different dynamics and characters, but they're really fun to explore. I really enjoyed writing Lumax, I owe them a happier fic. 

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I think that's all my thoughts for now. I mostly just talked about my fic ideas and what I want to write eventually. I just have so many ideas and not enough time to write them all. This was a nice break and refresher for me. I miss talking about fandom things. Alrighty, good night! I hope you all have a restful sleep yourself.

[alexsoenomel]

In The Air Tonight (Sub!Dean Winchester x Reader smut)

Summary: You like Dean but you are too shy to tell him until one night...

Pairing: Dean x Reader 

Warnings: sexy times with  Dean, teasing and bj :)

Word count: 1782

Note: Wrote it in the first person, it’s an old one. Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

You know when your crush is so intense you find yourself not being able to function properly? Well, that’s how I felt every freaking day for the past 10 years ever since I started working with The Winchesters. After my parents died in an “unexplainable” fire (like their mother did) I had nowhere to go. I was 17 and hunting was still new to me. My parents never wanted me to live this life, we kind of got dragged into it by vengeance after we found out my aunt was murdered by a nest of vampires. After that hunt, there was another and another until we stopped counting and accepted our new life. At times it was exciting the adrenaline and traveling but other times I felt like giving it up. It was a love-hate relationship. My father told me if anything bad happens to them, to just call John (old friend of his), he will help. And after the fire I did, only to be greeted by Dean’s voice and the sentence “John is dead”. They took me in and the rest was history. After a while they learned that they could trust me and eventually I became family.

After few years of hunting with them I became quite skilled and found myself looking at the older Winchester more than usual. In fact at times I couldn’t stop staring. There was something so mesmerizing about him and his whole being I couldn’t put my finger on it. I don’t know if it was because of his piercing green eyes, his charm, and humor or overall just his heart, but I was head over heels for that dude. I managed to hide it at first, from him and from Sam, but I knew it wouldn’t last. My face was like an open book, you could read me easily. That’s how Sam found out.

One night after a hunt Dean came out of the bathroom in just his towel around his waist (Yeah…) to the library for whatever reason. Sam and I were deep in the books because we couldn’t sleep. When I saw him my cheeks went completely red and I refused to look at him until he went to his room.

“Oh no…” Sam then came to a conclusion not whipping a huge ass grin off his face.

“Oh no what Sam?” I tried to play along.

“Oh no you have a crush.”

I gave him a typical harsh NO for an answer. I was lying my ass off and Sam could see right through it.

“Liar.”

And after denying it for like two minutes I finally gave up. “Okay fine I like him.”

“Since when?”

“Don’t know.” I mumbled. “You can’t tell him Sam.”

“Oh I won’t he will find out soon enough.” He laughed.

“What do you mean?”

“(Y/N) when he walked in you were red as a beet and practically drooling.”

“Hmm, good point.”

After that we never spoke about it again. I pretended like everything was fine and normal, but we all know how that shit always fails. And it did thankfully one night after me and Dean went to the bar we would always go after a successful hunt. Sam said he would go take a walk to the bunker saying he wanted some me time. I knew he just wanted me to spill my feelings to his older brother. Well after two glasses of whiskey I almost did. We talked about childhood, good and bad times, confessed stuff that was on our minds in that moment…We had a pretty good time. When clock hit 2am we knew it was probably best to go and get some rest. We were both tipsy but Dean was still capable to drive. When he finally pulled up in front of the bunker and as I was about to unbuckle my seatbelt when…

“Wait!”

“Yeah?” As I turned to look at him he leaned in and kissed me. I was taken aback for a second before I kissed him back. It was like swallowing something sweet with lots of alcohol. I undid my seatbelt and leaned in slamming him against his seat before moving on his lap. I could barely fit but I managed somehow. We stayed like this for a while; kissing and groping each other like a couple of teenagers before breaking the kiss to finally face each other.

“Well then…” I broke the ice not really knowing what to say. He brushed his thumb against my cheek not taking his gorgeous eyes off me.

“Yeah one word, wow.”

“Did you know I would kiss you back? Was I that obvious?” I asked him remembering Sam’s words.

“Yes and no.”

“How though?”

“I just felt like there was something more between us. I can’t explain it.”

“There was something in the air tonight, huh?” I remembered that song my dad used to play in the car while traveling.

Dean smiled because he caught my reference. Phil Collins never gets old.  “Yeah you could say that.”

“Since when?”

“Since when what?”

“Since when you see me more than a friend?”

“It has been so long at this point I don’t even know.”

“Same here.” I cupped his head with my hands and kissed him, this time hungrily telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. Now that secret was out, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We barely made it to his room without waking Sam up. We pushed each other against the car, front door and hallway walls until we finally reached Dean’s bedroom. I was pretty sure we will end up with bruises tomorrow.  I slammed the door shut and locked it just in case Sam wakes up.

I kissed Dean as I pushed him against the door making him gasp. When I couldn’t breathe anymore I broke away and started unbuttoning his flannel.

“Jesus (Y/N) what has gotten into you?” Dean smirked.

“I think you know my answer.” I responded. “You.”

Taking off his flannel I pulled him by his belt telling him to follow me to his bed and that was exactly what he did. He sat down and like a puppy watched as I undressed myself scanning every inch of me. I liked the attention he was giving me which was strange because I would usually shy away whenever he would look at me. Leaving only underwear on I sat on his lap and kissed him again as I slowly moved my lips on his jaw then on kiss neck leaving bite marks in the process. There was just something I liked about biting.

His hands were on my hips and as I started to grind his grip tightened. I could already feel how hard he really was.

“Are you actually trying to kill me?” He said almost out of breath.

“Kinda.” I smirked pushing him onto the mattress.

“How are you so…?”

“What?” I asked him undoing his belt. “Dominant?”

“Yes, that. And you’re always so shy.”

Taking off his pants I laughed and gave him the answer he wanted. “Shy girls are always full of surprises, Dean.”

“So far, I’m loving this surprise.”

“Good to know.” I climbed on top of him feeling his hard dick teasing me through my underwear. I started slow, kissing his lips, neck and going lower as his breathing became more apparent. He was slowly losing his mind and I loved it. When I reached his boxers I didn’t want to take them off right away. Instead I kissed the skin around where the hem was, licking ever so slightly just to drive him mad. I was succeeding because he was groaning and begging me to do something.

“Please.” Was music to my ears. I loved the control I had.

“Shhh don’t let Sam hear you!”

“Then stop torturing me.”

“Okay, okay.” I took off his boxers finally setting him free and stroked him a couple of times before licking his shaft slowly. A light moan escaped from his lips as I started to lick the tip of his long dick not breaking eye contact. He was on cloud nine as I took him whole and started to move my head up and down. My pace was slow at first but when he grabbed a chunk of my hair and started pulling me down I knew he wanted more. I decided to be good to give him just that.

“Jesus (Y/N).”

I felt his dick hitting the back of my throat with each and every move before he told me he was close and I stopped.

“Why?” He asked frustrated.

“Not yet.” I just winked at him. I took the bra and panties off before I let him touch me.

“You’re brutal.” He said trailing his fingers over my hips and stomach.  

“And you’re wonderful Dean Winchester.” I said positioning myself on top of him and slowly sat down. He was big but felt so freaking good. “Fuck.”

Slowly I started to move as my mind went on him. I was enjoying the sight beneath me and he sure as hell was enjoying his. We were both moaning each other’s names desperately trying not to get loud and wake up Sam. The bed was squeaking as I sped up my pace seeing he was slowly falling apart. His grip on my hips hurt, but I liked it. It was a different kind of pain.  

“Are you close?” I managed to ask him between breaths.

“Y-yeah.”

“Look at me Dean.”

“W-what?” Poor guy was so lost in me he didn’t hear what I said.

“I said, I want you to look at me when you cum.” I said locking my hands with his. “I wanna see you fall apart.”

“Jesus (Y/N).”

My pace became faster and faster and I could feel my orgasm approaching. I was falling apart just like him and I think he could see it.

Finally, and quite unexpectedly I came and few seconds later so did he. My body was stiff; waves of pleasure went through my whole body as I was moaning his name over and over again. Him, on the other hand, was clenching my hips with eyes shut, biting his lower lip not wanting to be too loud. I finally collapsed next to him covered in sweat and panting.

“Wow!” He said.

“Not bad for our first time, huh?” I asked him feeling proud. I just made Dean Winchester fall apart under me.

“Best sex I had, hands down.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I still can’t believe you’re like that.”

“Oh you haven’t seen anything yet.” I said and kissed him. “I really like you, Dean.”

“I like you too, (Y/N).”

[twdsunshine]

Heaven (One-Shot)

Summary:  Dean Winchester arrives in his Heaven, the Heaven that he deserves.  You have been waiting for him for what feels like forever.  

Fandom:  Supernatural

Pairing:  Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings:  None

Word Count:  616

Check out my bio for a link to my Masterlist!

Author’s Note:  My first Supernatural one-shot and it’s super short and fluffy.  Dean arrives in Heaven after his death, only to find that it’s the reader waiting for him, and not Bobby Singer.  Hope you enjoy!  Supernatural is my current major obsession so it’s likely there’ll be more little fics like this coming your way...

*****

You felt it the moment he arrived, sensed his presence in the same way you sense the coming dawn, or the shift from winter into spring.  A hum of contentment sprang to life somewhere deep inside your chest and, of course, when you turned around, setting aside the beer that you'd been sipping from on the front stoop of The Roadhouse, there he was, staring around him in wonder.

He'd aged.  You supposed that was to be expected.  Fine lines crinkled around his eyes, his skin roughened and scarred by the years, though he was no less handsome for it, and your breath caught in your throat when his gaze landed on you.  There was a beat of hesitation as he absorbed the reality of you, standing there, watching, before he was striding towards you, his bow-legged walk so familiar, unchanged, that it made your heart ache.

Your name was whispered on the breath of an exhale as you found yourself locked into the solid cage of his arms.  The button at his collar dug into the soft skin of your cheek and you shifted, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and letting his scent wash over you, a heady combination of leather and engine oil and gunpowder that would always, always, remind you of home.  His chest was firm beneath your palm as your hand crept up to rest over his heart, reassured by the steady rhythmic thrum through the layers of cotton and flannel, though, of course, it was a beat that was not strictly necessary.  Not here.

It belonged to you.  You knew that now.  In this place there was no uncertainty, no doubts, no words left painfully unspoken until it was too late and you were gone.  And so you knew, were barely even surprised, when he eventually released his tight hold on you so that he could pull back and seek out your lips with his own, velvety soft and warm, so warm.  You wondered then whether it would have felt the same back on earth, this first kiss between two people too stubborn to give in to their seemingly fated love and desire: dizzying; consuming; earth-shaking; life-affirming.  The overwhelming tidal wave of emotion that came crashing down over you, setting every nerve ending alight in the most delicious and satisfying way: was that because this was Heaven?  Or because it was Dean?

Long moments passed as you lost yourself in each other, in the sweet moment of reunion and acceptance and silent declaration, and the sun seemed to swell, mirroring the intensity of your happiness and bathing the world in golden light.  When he finally broke away, panting hard, peppermint breath ghosting over your face, his eyes were sparkling, vivid green that had haunted your dreams for longer than you could remember.  For a near lifetime you had found your entire existence centred around this man, this impossible, intoxicating human being, who fit so perfectly against your rough edges that you only felt whole when he was by your side.  And now, here he was, once again, and Heaven, your Heaven, was, at long last, complete.

'Well, Dean Winchester,' - hearing your voice speak his name had him smiling and, damn, you'd forgotten just how beautiful he was when he smiled - 'what are you going to do now?'

You already knew the answer, had vaguely registered the sleek black Impala blinking into existence beside the road, its pull magnetic, irresistible, even to you, as his awareness of it solidified it in this place.  Calloused fingers laced through yours, pulling you forward, towards a future, a forever that you had waited for through life and death.  

'Let's go for a drive.'

*****

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Feedback is always appreciated and reblogs are heavenly 🖤 Thank you for reading 

[serasvictoria]

I've Got Dreams To Remember

Pairing: Incubus Hvitserk/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 8244 (yeah, I don't know what happened either)

Summary: A certain young man keeps showing up in your very x-rated dreams.

Notes: I fully realise that the contents of this might not be for everyone, so I’ll just say that according to some stories Incubi are capable of shapeshifting. A certain aspect of this has been inspired by @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie's absolutely brilliant fic, Take Me, so if you've read that you'll know what I'm talking about. And if you haven’t read it, what the hell are you doing? READ IT.

There is another moodboard all the way at the end of this to provide a visual for something that I describe in this so have a look at it at the end.

Tagging: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @vikingstrash @quantumlocked310

He only ever came to you in your dreams.

The dreams were interesting to say the least and he always played a very big part in them. You often wondered what deep and dark recesses of your brain had conjured him up, because you would definitely remember if you had encountered someone like him in real life.

It first started about a month ago. You’d gotten out of a particularly nasty relationship a few months before. You were still trying to navigate your way through this new life that you now had and while your friends were busy with trying to get you back onto the dating scene, you persisted in that regard. You weren’t looking for a new man in your life, but you still had needs. Sure, you had your toys, but they were a somewhat poor substitute when what you really wanted was for someone to grab your ass, lift you up and fuck you up against a wall.

Maybe that was where he had come from. Because that was exactly the scenario that you got the first time that he showed up.

It was a fairly generic one where dreams were concerned. You were in a bar with some people, a wide assortment of people that you knew in real life, when you could feel someone’s eyes on you. You looked up and stared straight into the half shaded face of a young man whose eyes you couldn’t actually make out, but you saw the smile that graced his lips and boy was it hungry. You only glanced away for a second and when you looked back again, he was already gone. You’d resigned yourself to missing your chance, when a hand suddenly grasped your wrist, dragged you outside to a nearby alleyway and gave you exactly what you’d been thinking of during your waking hours.

When you woke up, you had never found yourself feeling so satisfied before. You threw the blankets over your head, rolled over and tried to fall asleep again, but sleep didn’t take you for a second time that morning sadly enough. Later that day, after getting out of the shower and glancing in the mirror before combing your hair, you stared at your reflection in confusion or to be more precise at your bare skin. In your dream, your mystery lover had bitten your shoulder and there, right there on your shoulder, were teeth marks. But that was impossible, right? Maybe the dream had been that intense that it had somehow tricked your body into believing that it had been real? Did things like that even happen?

You didn’t dream of him the next night. Nor the following five nights. Not that you were keeping track or anything. He eventually put in another appearance though. The setting for that dream wasn’t particularly inventive either and you were almost embarrassed that your mind was even coming up with stuff that gave you the impression that they should be storylines in bad porn movies. It was a department store this time and you were looking at underwear. Your fingers continuously ran over the lace trims of various bras and touched the silky panties that came with them.

Again, you felt eyes on you and it was the same young man as from your previous dream. Apparently, dream you was in a frisky mood so you held up various bras in front of your chest, most of which he disapproved of, until you came across a bright red lace number that he seemed to like. When he finally found you in the fitting room shortly after, you were wearing the set that he had wanted to see you in before tearing it off your body and fucking you up against the full length mirror.

That was the first time that you’d gotten a good look at his face. Frankly, you were impressed with what your mind had come up with. He had long dirty blonde hair that he wore in a ponytail and that you longed to see loose. His eyes were green one time and when you looked again they seemed brown. That was one of the parts about him that mystified you. That and the part where you constantly wanted to kiss the tip of his nose and his ears. That was definitely an odd experience to say the least.

He was tall and lithe of build, but with surprising strength in his arms. The way that he would hold you was intense, like he never wanted to let you go. When his shirt came off, you found yourself staring at the intricate tattoo that covered most of his left bicep and part of his chest. It was some kind of Viking design and it looked old, but it was probably meant to look like that. You found yourself tracing it with your finger a number of times, something that seemed to amuse him.

Whenever you woke up, you were annoyed that you had been torn out of this perfect little dream world. The dream world where you were fucked six ways from Sunday. You were so thirsty for this young man that you had created that he was in your nighttime fantasies pretty much every single night now. In your dreams he left you so satisfied that you had no idea why you ever wanted to leave. If only you could stay asleep and feel this bliss forever. What would make them even more amazing was if the fantasies were better. You always swore that you were one dream away from having him come round to your house so he could have a closer look at your plumbing.

“What are you thinking about?”

Rolling over on your side, you looked at the man next to you in the bed. Despite the fact that you had been dreaming about him almost every single night for the past two weeks, you had never actually heard him talk. You’d heard him moan and groan several times, but to hear his lips form actual sentences was a new thing.

“Nothing,” you replied with a smile.

“I can read your thoughts, you know.”

“You can?”

“Yeah, I never told you?” He grinned at you and ran his fingers up and down your bare arm. “Maybe I could have told you if you’d wanted to talk, but you only want me for my body.”

“What? I don’t… I never…” You were flustered and looking for words after being so brutally called out. “It was never like…”

“It’s okay,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t mind. It’s what I do.” Since he saw the obvious confusion on your face, he continued. “I’ve been feeding off you this entire time.”

“Feeding off me? But I never feed you anything.”

“Your orgasms.” A frown creased your brow and he started laughing again before leaning in and pressing his lips against your forehead. “It’s what I need to sustain myself. I can eat other food as well, but it never quite fills me up the way orgasms do.”

“So the reason that you made me come multiple times is…”

“Because it fills me. Not my belly, mind you, but on a deeper level.” He cupped your chin and brushed the tip of his nose against yours. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I suppose a thank you is in order.” His hand slipped down, gently gripping your neck, applying just the slightest bit of pressure, before moving down to it’s destination and plucking at your nipple almost idly. He was gearing you up for another round and you found that you couldn’t actually remember how many times he had made you come already. “Can I thank you with this body that you can’t get enough of?”

“Wait.”

“So now you want to talk?” He continued his ministrations on your chest as if you hadn’t been talking at all. You caught the playful smirk on his lips before he leaned in and started sucking marks on your neck. “What do you want to know?”

“You say you feed off me, but doesn't that mean that you want to eat me?”

“And why would I want to do that? I like to use my mouth for other things,” he said with a low chuckle. You hissed through your teeth when he sank his teeth into your skin suddenly and then licked the spot where he had bitten you. “Would be a waste to eat you anyway.”

“So the reason that you’re able to…”

He pulled away so he could look you in the eye. He grinned as he pushed his hand against your shoulder and he got on top of you as soon as you were laying on your back. “Are you getting shy on me now? After everything that we’ve done?” He nudged your legs apart and you could feel his erection pressing into your thigh. “But yes, that’s why my erections last so long. The aim of the game is not to come myself, but to make sure that you do.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“I beat myself off when you wake up. It’s not like I can’t climax myself, but I can make sure that I stay hard for as long as I need to.” You could feel his tip pressing against your entrance, ready to slide in at any second. “It’s a dream. Anything can happen in a dream.”

“Anything?”

“Sure. Wanna see?”

You didn’t know what he had planned, but you nodded anyway. His eyes lit up, his irises practically glowing green right now, and he started grinning, eager to show you what else he could do. He snapped his fingers and all of a sudden you were sitting on a red velvet sofa in what appeared to be some kind of high end bar. Your legs were wide open with him on his knees in front of you, his lips already on the inside of your knee and slowly working his way up.

“So you can change locations?”

“Honey, I can change everything.” You felt his teeth on the inside of your thigh, nipping at your skin playfully, mere inches away from the top of your legs. “Is the setting not to your liking?”

“How did you even come up with this place?”

“Experience?” He briefly looked up at you and shrugged. “I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

“How long?”

“Not telling.” He stuck his tongue out at you and then dipped his head down to lick a stripe from your entrance up to your clit. “I can never get enough of how you taste.” He moaned against your core. He spent most of his time with his face between your legs in your dreams. With what he’d revealed earlier, about how he fed on your orgasms, maybe that was the place where he could taste it the best? “Not really.” You moaned loudly when he spoke, because his voice was adding vibrations to what he was doing. You’d entirely forgotten that he had mentioned that he was able to hear your thoughts. “You just taste real good.”

A single finger slid inside of you, your walls instantly clenching around him, trying to pull him in deeper. When he adds another, you start whimpering and you know that you’re going to come soon. If you could, you’d have him in this position all the time. There had never been anyone in your life who had been this good at eating you out and who was so clearly enjoying himself as well. Your last boyfriend had been a disaster on that front, more often than not he would skip foreplay entirely, but he’d still expect you to suck his dick whenever he felt like it. Figures that you’d only be able to find an enthusiastic lover in your dreams.

Guys like that simply didn’t exist in real life.

You reach down to thread your fingers through his hair. The gesture makes him suck at your clit harder and thrust his fingers in deeper than before. He was practically devouring you at this point, lapping up your juices and making sounds that told you that he hadn’t been lying when he told you that he liked how you tasted. It was almost as if he didn’t want to waste a single drop. You keened out a noise as another orgasm positively engulfed you. You’d push him away and close your thighs if you could, but he had wrapped his arms around your thighs and was using all his strength to keep them wide open. Your muscles were tight as a bowstring, your back arched and pushed you up into a position that would start to hurt if you stayed in it for too long. He was relentless though, ignoring your discomfort and continuing his assault until he had managed to pull yet another climax out of your shuddering body.

When he finally released you, you collapsed onto the sofa, your entire body sticky with sweat. You blinked a few times to stop yourself from seeing stars and when you heard him chuckle, you swatted your hand in his general direction without actually hitting him. It took you a couple of minutes, but you eventually managed to sit upright again when your lungs stopped burning. He was still on his knees in front of you with an incredibly smug impression plastered all over his face. You nudged your foot against his shoulder and he fell backwards dramatically. Your face twisted when you felt the velvet against your sweaty body. It had felt pleasant on your bare skin before, but not anymore.

“I can do something about that,” he said cheerily and snapped his fingers again. When he saw the look on your face when you noticed where you were, he couldn’t hide his amusement. “No good?”

“This is terrible,” you replied with a wide grin. “I mean. Honestly.”

The flashing light underneath you made you laugh. He’d pulled this one from your bad sex fantasies again. A piece of paper slid into the tray on the side. He picked it up, looked at it with a frown before turning the piece of paper over so you could see it.

“I think there’s something wrong with this printer.” He shook his head and pressed a few buttons underneath your leg. “It really needs fixing.”

“Think you can fix it?”

“I can try.” He pushed his hands underneath your ass just as the light flashed again and a few seconds later he showed you the black and white printout of your behind with his fingers shoved in between you and the glass that you were sitting on. “That’s beautiful. Think I might have to frame that.”

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“I think that it’s funny.” He pressed his lips on yours hungrily and you could still taste yourself on his tongue. “I got this from your mind, remember? I really think we might have to work on the state of your fantasies though. They really could be a lot more inventive.”

“Maybe I’m just not very original.”

“You’re just not giving yourself enough credit, sweetheart.”

“Maybe.” You nipped at his lower lip and then pressed a kiss on the tip of his nose which was probably a little too gentle considering all the other stuff that you’d gotten up that night, but you hardly cared anymore. “You can probably come up with something a lot better.”

“I can try, but you’re probably going to be disappointed.”

One snap of his fingers and suddenly you were in the dark. You could also tell that you were alone. The other two times, you could always feel him around you, but not this time. You hugged your arms around your torso, feeling cold for no reason at all. All of a sudden a couple of lights switched on, bathing the room in red light, and you realised that you were standing on a stage. When you glanced at the side, you could see a pole right next to you. You instinctively reached out for it, feeling the cool metal against your palm and you held it as you walked in a circle around it. There were full length mirrors all around you and you briefly looked at your reflection.

The outfit that you wore left little to the imagination which was probably the point when you took the location into account. You were wearing a red triangle bikini top and a black pair of shorts that half your ass was hanging out of. The shoes, the infamous stripper heels naturally, had plastic, see-through straps and the platform heels had a iridescent sparkle to it.

When you had done a turn, your eyes scanned the place and you could see him sitting on a chair right next to the stage, looking up at you expectantly. He obviously wanted a show so why not give him one? Holding onto the pole, you slid down until you were on your knees and then you started skimming your hands up and down your chest. He was completely enraptured and kept reaching down to readjust himself in his trousers. Given how he usually remained rockhard throughout these dreams, the skinny jeans that he was wearing right now were probably incredibly uncomfortable.

You crawled over to where he was sitting. When you had reached the edge, you reached out to grab him by his shirt and pulled him up out of his seat. His eyes widened for a second or two before he composed himself again. He couldn’t resist leaning in when your face came closer to his, but you merely ghosted your lips over his before pushing him back into his chair.

“No touching the stripper,” you chided and then wagged a finger at him. “Or I’ll ask security to kick you out.”

“But you���re allowed to touch me?”

“Are you trying to tell me you’d have me kicked out?”

“No way.” He leaned back in his chair, arm hanging over the back and he started sipping at a cocktail that suddenly materialised in his hand. “Keep going.”

The only problem there was that you had no clue what strippers even did. Sure you’d seen a video, but those women were a lot more athletic than you were. You’d also seen Showgirls once, but that movie probably wasn’t the best example about what to do. The only thing that you had learned from that movie was how not to have sex in a pool and that licking a stripper pole wasn’t particularly sexy, just incredibly unhygienic. You swung your legs over the edge of the stage and put your feet on the arm rests of his chair, practically daring him to touch you. Having caught your intent, he didn’t move and then he had the audacity to feign indifference.

Sliding off the stage, you climbed onto his lap instead and started gyrating your hips against his. You reached up to grab a handful of his hair, pulled his head back and dragged your lips down the column of his throat. When he grabbed your ass, you slapped his cheek with your free hand.

“No touching,” you whispered in his ear. “I’m not telling you again.”

“Damn, baby.” He sounded impressed by how well you were taking control of this new situation. “That is such a fucking turn-on.” You pulled on his hair harder and since your mouth was still close to his ear, you took his earlobe between your teeth and gave it a gentle tug. “Holy shit. You’re a fucking natural.”

“Oh yeah?”

You leaned back so you could look him in the eye. His eyes sparkled with obvious excitement and a deeper, more animalistic need. Like he could grab you at any moment, throw you onto the stage and fuck you right there if you pushed him too far. Very tempting. Reaching to the back of your neck, you pulled at the bow that held the strings of the halterneck together and when it was loosened, they fell down your shoulders. You pushed the cups down until they hung loosely around your chest. The only thing that was keeping the top on was the string that tied together around your back.

His eyes flitted down to your chest and then back up to your face again. You wanted him to touch you, but after telling him off a few times, you weren’t sure if he was going to. So you placed your hand on the back of his head and pressed him against your chest instead. You felt him smile against your skin and then his lips started moving, shifting in the direction of your nipple.

A shiver ran down your spine and you looked up suddenly. You had the odd feeling that there was another set of eyes on you, but that was impossible since the two of you were the only people here. Looking up at the bar, you saw a young man who was leaning against the bar and watching the two of you intently. He was smartly dressed in a dark blue suit, his long hair loose and hanging down over his shoulders. Even in this odd red light, you could tell that his skin was too pale, so white that it was almost translucent and when he grinned at you, you could see that his canines were too long, too pointy. Without realising it yourself, you had frozen entirely and the young man underneath you had sensed it, looking up at you in confusion before following your eyes.

“What the fuck, man!” He suddenly shouted at the other guy, anger flashing behind his eyes. “The hell are you doing here? Fuck off!” The man at the bar shrugged and disappeared just as suddenly as he had appeared. “Sorry about that.”

“Who was that?”

“My brother.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah, he’s a dick,” he said with a deep sigh. “Our mother would keep tabs on us when we were kids to make sure that we didn’t get into any trouble. You have any idea how weird it is when your mother enters the dreams where you’re trying to get off with a girl? Fucking embarrasing.” He raised his eyebrows at you when he noticed that you were trying to suppress a laugh and pinched your side. “I don’t know how the fuck it works, but my mother taught the little shit how to do it as well and so he just… I dunno… shows up sometimes like the little creep that he is.”

“Does that mean that he’ll come back?”

“No. He just likes to remind me that he can do it from time to time.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his head against your chest. “But fuck that. I don’t want to talk about my asshole brothers.”

“Brothers?”

“Ah shit. No. Not talking about them.” He pulled at the string on your back, pulled the bikini top from your body and threw it on the stage. “So this particular fantasy is ruined now. Let's start again, shall we?”

“Can’t we salvage it?”

“I’ve got something better.” The look on his face told you that this had the potential to be really good. “Do you trust me?”

“How bad is this going to be?” He tilted his head to the side, that wasn’t the answer that he had wanted to hear. “Yes.”

“I don’t do this a lot so bear with me alright?”

Another snap of the fingers and the strip bar starts to fade away. You were sitting on a bed now and you were wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that looked old. The new location was just as red (he really did seem to like that colour), but it didn’t look that special to you. In fact, it looked like a fairly cheap love motel, one where lovers would retreat to so they could enjoy each other's company for about an hour before going their separate ways again.

You got up from the bed and walked over to a table by the window to look at what was set out on it. There was a big bowl of strawberries and a bottle of ridiculously expensive champagne right next to it. He’d really pulled out all the stops, even in a dream. You were giggling to yourself when the door to the bathroom opened and someone appeared in the doorway. It took you a short moment before you realised who it was, but when it all clicked into place your mouth fell open.

Because leaning against the doorframe was a woman. Her dirty blonde hair was loose and still slightly wet, hinting at the fact that she’d been taking a shower moments earlier. She was wearing a silk bathrobe that was tied together by the waist with a big bow and you could see her hard nipples quite clearly through the thin material. The smirk was damn near unmistakable however. When she approached you, you instantly got the impression that you were her prey, there was just something very predatory in the way that she moved. She came to a standstill right in front of you and her mischievous eyes flashed bright green briefly.

“Feed me,” she said with a grin. You took one of the strawberries from the bowl and when you presented it to her, she held her mouth wide open, ready to be fed. You felt her tongue swipe over your fingers when you fed it to her and then she let out a single moan when she started chewing. A few seconds later you felt a finger against your chin so she could push your mouth shut. “Surprised?”

“Very.” You looked her up and down. The bathrobe barely covered the tops of her thighs and she reached down to play with the hemline, to make sure that your eyes stayed focused on her legs. “I didn’t know you could turn into a woman.”

“It’s a dream,” she stated simply. “Anything’s possible.” She leaned in to you and you closed your eyes, anticipating a kiss, but then her lips brushed against the shell of your ear as she talked. “I don’t do this a lot though. So consider yourself special.”

“All this to make up for your brother interfering?”

“Guess you could say that.” She took your hands and started pulling you along to the bed. When you reached it you thought that she was finally going to kiss you, but then she spun you round and made you sit on the bed instead. She pulled on the bow that held the bathrobe together and brushed it open, revealing herself to you slowly, like one might unveil a priceless painting. “Like what you see?”

Your throat had gone dry and you found that you had lost the ability to form words. He was beautiful when he was a man, but now that he was a woman, his toned torso had given way to soft curves and skin that looked so smooth that you wanted to do nothing else but reach out and touch it. She took a step closer and stood in between your open legs, a sweet smile on her lips as she looked down at you.

“You’re not talking.” There was a slight teasing tone to her voice as she spoke. “That bad?”

“No.” She took your hand and moved it up until it was covering her bare breast. You gave a quick experimental squeeze. “Just surprised. Takes some getting used to.” Your other hand moved up of its own accord so you could cup her other breast as well. “I mean, I’ve never been with another woman before.”

“You can. If you want to.”

While you had only ever been with men, the thought of being with a woman wasn’t something that you weren’t entirely opposed to. Especially not with someone as beautiful and seductive as this. She shrugged out of the robe and dropped it to the floor. The tattoo that was usually on his left arm had changed into something more delicate and feminine, pink cherry blossoms with green leaves and branches in between them that curled up her arm and covered part of her clavicle. You moved your hand up and started tracing them with your fingers, gently caressing her skin, her green eyes following your every move.

When you heard a soft giggle, you looked back at her face and before you could say anything, she’d pushed you back onto the mattress. She was on top of you a split second later and then you finally felt her soft lips on yours. You could still taste the sweet strawberry on her lips and on her tongue when she slipped it into your mouth. Your hands ran down her back, following her spine and then settling on her ass. Whenever you squeezed, she ground her hips down against yours and you were suddenly overcome with the urge to see her on her back with her hair fanned out over the red sheets.

Grabbing her hips, you flipped her over and since she’d just read your thoughts, she reached up and made sure her hair was spread out just the way that you had just imagined it. She started pushing your shirt up and you almost ripped it off in your eagerness to get naked for her, even if she’d seen you like that many times before. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and shoved her hand into your sweatpants roughly. Her fingers started rubbing at your sex, finding you very wet and very willing.

Pulling her hand out, you leaned back and pushed your pants down, kicking your legs to get them off entirely without moving too far away from her. When you were completely naked, her hand settled back at the top of your legs, her movements more hurried and urgent now. With your hands on her breasts, you started licking and nipping at her neck, moaning against her skin when one of her fingers started circling your clit.

“I want to make you come,” you groaned into her ear. “Never made you… fuck… come before.”

“But you give me so many other things,” she purred back. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” You skimmed one hand down her stomach and slipped your hand between her legs. “Jesus Christ. You’re so wet.” You were rewarded with a moan when you tried touching her the way you liked to be touched. It was almost as if you were moving on autopilot, like you instinctively knew what to do. “Please.”

She didn’t reply so instead you pulled your hand away from her, making her let out a displeased whine, and you pulled your face away from her neck so she could watch you suck your fingers into your mouth. You twirled your tongue around your fingers, making sure that she could see exactly what you were doing and then moved your hand down again. You pressed them up against her entrance first, teasing her with the slightest bit of pressure and then slipped them inside. She started tilting her hips up against your hand and the way that her face contorted in pleasure really was something that would be etched into your mind forever.

“Can I?” You repeated the question since you still hadn’t gotten an answer. “I really want to.” Pressing your lips down on hers again in a searing kiss, you murmured against her lips. “Please say yes.” You pressed your fingers in as deep as they could go, all the way down to the third knuckle. Since he had seemed to like it quite a bit when you did it earlier, you tangled your fingers in her long hair and gave a forceful tug. She gasped into your mouth and you knew that you had her. “I’ll just keep doing this until you say yes.”

“Fuck.” She shifted underneath you and you reluctantly pulled your lips away from hers. “I love it when you do that.”

“I know.” A triumphant grin formed on your lips and she was so obviously into it that it was hard to drop this act. Dipping your head down, you bit her neck suddenly and she squealed with obvious delight. You decided to thrust your fingers into her harder and she was so wet now that you could hear your digits moving in and out of her. “I want to make you come so bad.”

“You’re pretty good at this,” she moaned breathlessly. “Want to take this a little bit further?”

“How?”

“I’ll give you what you want, but not like this.” She wrapped a hand around your wrist and gently pulled your hand away. She then brought your hand up to her lips and started licking her own juices off your fingers with such fervour that she could have been mistaken for a starving animal. Seeing that was so arousing that you couldn’t stop a moan from escaping from your lips. “I want you to do something else.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Check the drawers.”

You scrambled off of her, probably a little bit too fast, in your eagerness to see what was in there. You were expecting a vibrator, a buttplug even, but you must have pulled a particularly funny face when you saw what was in the drawer instead because she started laughing as soon as she saw your expression. You hooked your fingers in one of the straps and lifted it up, probably looking very much afraid to even touch it. Your eyes were wide as it hung from your fingers and you turned back to fully face her.

“You want me to wear...” You gestured at it with your free hand. “...this?”

“Well, yes, sweetheart.” She got on all fours and crawled over to your side of the bed. “That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

“Right.”

“You’re not sure.”

“It’s just… this is very much virgin territory for me.”

“You were doing fine just now.”

“That’s kinda different though, isn’t it?” You looked down at the strap-on that was still dangling from your fingers and she started poking at it playfully. It looked so silly that you couldn’t help but laugh. Truth be told, you were kind of curious about this kind of thing. “Are you sure about this?”

“Positive.” She pushed herself up on her knees and hooked her arms around your neck, pressing her entire body flush against you. “So. What do you say?”

“This is definitely one of the weirdest dreams I’ve ever had.”

“Yes or no.” She started kissing you, nice and slow, and then sucked your bottom lip into her mouth. Your hands snaked down her back and when she nipped at your lip, you gave her ass a hard slap. “Baby!” She started giggling, her fingernails digging into your shoulder blades when you grabbed her ass and squeezed her roughly. “I love it when you manhandle me.”

“That’s new for me as well.”

“I really am pushing your boundaries, ain’t I?” She pulled away suddenly and got on all fours again, turning her ass in your direction. She wiggled her hips and peered over her shoulder until you slapped her again. “Keep doing that and I’ll climax before you’ve shoved that thing inside of me.”

“Yeah right.” But you slapped her on the other cheek just for good measure. She pushed back until her ass was pressed against your hips and then she started moving backwards and forwards like you were already thrusting into her. “I need some help… with this thing…”

She faced you again in a flash, obviously excited by your willingness to do this. The harness was on you fairly quickly all things considered and then she lowered herself, gave you a quick wink and started sucking the large dildo into her mouth. So that’s what it looked like from that angle. You stroked her hair in very much the same manner like your previous partners had always done with you whenever you went down on them. Come to think of it, you suddenly realised that you had never actually had his cock in your mouth. That probably wasn’t all that weird considering this no climaxing thing that he appeared to have going on, but whenever you’d even attempted to kiss your way down his chest, he always stopped you.

You felt her tap her fingers against your hip and then she released the dildo with a pop. “You’re overthinking this. This isn’t about me. Never was.” Sitting up on her knees again, she stroked the side of your face almost lovingly and you eased into her touch for a few seconds. “Like I said earlier, the aim is to make you come.” She flashed you a big, predatory smile and then continued, “Speaking of. You do this right and afterwards I’ll push myself into you balls deep and fuck you until your fucking alarm goes off. How’s that for a tradeoff?”

“The way that you usually are?”

“Depends on what you want.” Her hand settled on your chest and she twisted one of your nipples between her fingers. “If you want me to wear that strap-on afterwards, I can do that. No problem.”

“You’ll probably be able to tell exactly what I want when I’m done with you.”

“You bet your ass, baby.” She winked at you and then a bottle of lube magically appeared in her hand. “I know that this is a dream, but I still need to use this.”

“Do you have any idea how weird it is when you do that?” She looked at you with her perfect eyebrows raised as she squeezed some liquid into her hand, applied it liberally to the silicone shaft and then the tube disappeared again when she was done. “Magicking things up out of thin air.”

“That’s what you think is weird about all this?” She rubbed her hands between her legs, applying some more lube on her pussy and started pushing her hips up against her hands. “I can change everything about this dream, even my gender, but when I make stuff appear in my hand that’s taking it one step too far?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” She turned her back on you and pressed her ass against the sex toy. “Now get it over with and fuck me already.”

“That really wasn’t necessary.” You grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled hard and twisted her head back. She laughed breathlessly and pushed her hips back again. “I’m just going to have to fuck this attitude out of you.”

“Fuck yes! Teach me a lesson.” She was practically purring the words at you. When you pushed her forward roughly, she loudly voiced her delight. You pressed one hand firmly between her shoulder blades, making sure that her face stayed down. Grabbing her hips, you made her raise her ass in the air and then positioned yourself in front of her entrance. “I’ve been such a bad girl.” With one thrust of your hips, you slipped inside of her and she let out a long stretched out moan as you watched the dildo disappear inside of her. “You’re so fucking big.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that sudden admission. For some reason she was playing the part that loads of women seemed to play in porn movies and when you started pumping in and out of her, she wouldn’t stop moaning about how good it felt and how well you were fucking her. This really was something else and whenever you glanced down at how her ass rippled whenever your hips connected with her, you couldn’t help but be completely fascinated with how it looked, practically unable to tear your eyes away from her.

Her noises started increasing and you kept slapping her already reddening ass in between thrusts. Pulling out almost entirely, you pushed back in so hard that her moans were starting to sound muffled. Never once pausing what you were doing on her, you slid one hand down over her hip so you could touch her clit. You ran the other one up her spine, tightened your fingers in her hair and yanked her up, pulling her against your chest.

“I wanna hear you,” you groaned in her ear and she started whimpering instantly. “You gonna come for me now?”

“Almost,” she mewled back. “I’m so close.” You speeded up the motions against her clit and she let out a loud cry, reaching back with one hand to wrap it around the back of your head. You were barely able to move your hips at this odd angle, but she didn’t seem to care from the way that she was bucking up against your hand and panting. When she started whimpering and rubbing her back against your chest, you could feel the muscles in her thighs constricting against your hand. “Fuck.”

A grunt of pleasure was torn from her throat and she arched her back, all her muscles going rigid all at once when her orgasm tore through her. You kept her pulled against you, absolutely delighted that you appeared to have done this right despite being slightly weirded out about it at first. When you released her, she dropped down onto the bed, completely out of breath. You lay down on your side next to her and studied her face closely. Her eyes were squeezed shut and you ran your fingers up and down her jaw as she caught her breath.

“Gimme a sec…”

You saw her swallow hard, her throat no doubt having gone dry. You got up off the bed and giggled when you looked down. Seeing that huge silicone dildo swaying about with every step that you took really looked hilarious. When you reached the table, you were ready to struggle with attempting to open the champagne before noticing that she’d already taken care of that. There were two glasses filled with the sparkly liquid standing right next to it.

When you turned back around, you saw that she was gone and that he was now laying on the bed in her place. You briefly frowned, sad that you hadn’t gotten a chance to say goodbye before realising that they were one and the same person. You heard him laughing from the bed when you walked back with the glass in your hands.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are.” You sat down next to him and waited until he’d pushed himself up into a sitting position before handing him the glass. He emptied the glass in one big sip. “Wanting to say goodbye.”

“I just forgot. Until earlier I thought that you were nothing but a figment of my imagination.”

“Oh no.” He threw the glass across the room and it bounced off the wall before rolling onto the floor. He looked down at your lap and flicked his fingers against the strap-on. “I’m very real.”

“Can you help me get this thing off?”

“Or you could keep it on.” He flashed you a quick and very dirty smile. “I’d let you peg me.”

You almost choked when you tried to imagine what that would look like and blurted out a quick, “One thing at a time please.”

“Spoilsport.” He tapped a finger on the harness and then it was gone. “You’d be pretty good at it, you know. Pull my hair a couple of times and I’m yours to do with as you please.” Before you could reply to that, he put an arm around your waist and pulled you back onto the bed. Moving you onto your back, he knocked all the air out of your lungs when he suddenly got on top of you and pinned your hands up above your head. “But I promised to do something else anyway. So I win anyway.”

He kept true to his word and fucked you with such ferocity afterwards that when you finally woke up the following morning, it was a damn miracle that you were even able to walk at all. And all that just because of a dream. In the many more dreams that followed afterwards, the woman made an appearance on more than one occasion. On some nights you would just get her and other times he would turn into her while he had his mouth on your pussy. You were never entirely sure about how the entire thing even worked. He wasn’t merely something that your horny mind had come up with one night. No, he was indeed very real.

A couple of months into this very odd arrangement, where he would satisfy your every desire while you were asleep, you were at the beach with your friends. They were convinced that you were seeing someone even if you always said that you weren’t. Maybe this little weekend getaway was a ploy to get more information out of you, but how could you possibly tell them that you’d met someone in your dreams? You’d sound like a bloody lunatic.

When the four of you were looking for a spot to spread out your beach towels, you passed two guys. One was sitting underneath a parasol, dressed in a black t-shirt and black shorts, making sure that no part of him even got out of the shade that was provided by the large umbrella over his head. He was scowling at another young man with long blonde wavy hair who was sitting next to him, strumming a blue ukulele.

Your small group settled down a couple of feet away from them and stripped down to the bathing suits that you wore underneath your clothes. You were wearing a red triangle bikini, somehow now also favouring the colour since your dreams were constantly bathed in it. Your friends headed down towards the water while you sat down on your towel and started reading the romance novel that you’d brought with you.

After a couple of minutes, you realised that you had completely stopped paying attention to what you were reading but were instead focusing entirely on the young man a couple of feet behind you who had started singing. You instantly recognised the song that he was singing. It was the song that the sirens sang to Odysseus in the Odyssey. You were so hypnotised by the song, that you’d completely forgotten about your surroundings. It wasn’t until something slammed into your upper arm that the spell was broken. Your head whipped to the side and you saw a frisbee laying next to you in the sand.

“My bad!” A voice called out to you and you picked the piece of plastic up to hold it out to whoever was approaching you. “I am so sorry! I should have caught that.”

“No problem. Not like I’m…” As soon as you looked up the words died in your throat and you instead stared at the young man who was now standing next to you with wide eyes. “Wait…”

“Well, this is a surprise.” He dropped down onto his knees next to you in the sand, a huge smile plastered all over his face, and he took the frisbee from your hands. “Definitely wasn’t expecting this.” For some reason, you reached out and poked a finger against his chest. You half expected that your mind was playing some kind of trick on you, as if your finger was going to pass right through him, but it didn’t. “See? Real.”

“Serk!” Another voice called out and he tore his eyes away from yours to look at whoever it was that had called his name. “Stop hitting on girls and toss the frisbee back!”

“I’m done playing!” He threw the frisbee back which the other guy effortlessly caught. “Tell Sigurd to play with you before he drowns someone with his singing.”

“Fine! But you owe me.” He winked at you and turned around to join the other two guys that you had passed when you had just arrived. Your eyes were drawn to his back or to be more specific to the long braid that swung back and forth as he walked away.

“Stop checking out my brother.” You blinked and turned your attention back on him. “You want me to introduce you? I mean, if you’d rather want to spend time with him than me…”

“What? No!” He chuckled when your words came out louder than you intended. “Not funny.” He ran a hand down your arm, mirroring the same thing that he’d often do in your dreams. “He called you Serk. Is that your name?”

“Short for Hvitserk.” He held out his hand to you. “And what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you replied when you took his hand in yours. He repeated your name with a warm smile. “I erm… this is weird…”

“Is it?” He let your hand go and got to his feet. You panicked slightly, thinking that he might leave, when he suddenly extended his hand to you. “Come on. I wanna buy you a drink.”

“And then what?”

“I dunno,” he said with a shrug when he pulled you up off the ground. “Sit with me. Talk. I know you, but that’s the dream you and now I want to know the real you. That okay?”

“Sure.” He started pulling you along to the beach bars a short distance away. “I’d like that.”

*****

And this moodboard is based on when I described female Hvitserk coming out of the bathroom.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

All That I Ask

Sam x Reader

Word Count: 6990

Warnings: Smut. Smut, feels, and Sam Winchester being wonderful. There’s a brief moment of post-traumatic dissociation, but the traumatic event itself isn’t discussed or really even named. Otherwise, it’s about as gooey and sweet as a fuckin marshmallow. This is like... fix-it fic for life-canon. 

A/N: Whether it was rape or coercion or just a partner who didn’t care enough to make you feel comfortable, I think almost every woman knows what it’s like to feel powerless or unsafe during sex. This is about agency and trust and hang-ups and recovery, and how partners should handle those things.  

This was inspired by a request from @the-departed-patato. Thank you for trusting me with this one. I didn’t realize until I started typing that this was something I really really needed to write.

Also, major thanks to the Slack squad for edits and support and trying to curb my comma habit: @rockhoochie, @icemankazansky, @fangirlxwritesx67, @stunudo​ y’all are amazing.

Here’s my heart, don’t break it.  It’s all that I ask, nothing more.  - “Moonlight,” Future Islands

1.

This is so stupid. 

This is Sam. This is sweet, kind, gentle Sam, and I’m head over heels for him. 

I want him. How could I not? I’ve wanted to do this since I met him, and now I can. He tugs his shirt over his head, and I can run my hand up his side, down his chest, tracing the ripply contours of abs, and god dammit, I want him. 

He rolls me onto my back, hips slotting in against me. I can feel the drag and catch of denim, I can feel where he’s hard against the crease of my thigh, and I can feel his weight on me, holding me, pressing into me, trapping me, and I can feel myself start to shut down. 

This is so stupid. 

I remind myself that I’m safe. He’s being gentle, I tell myself. He’s not holding my wrists, he’s not pinning me, he’s not doing anything that should make me feel unsafe. 

I’m still shutting down. I stare at a point somewhere over his shoulder as he kisses my neck, and I remind myself that I’m being stupid, and I can’t fucking breathe. 

“Hey,” he whispers, and then he’s looking down at me, rolling onto his side again, and I try to focus on him but part of me is seeing someone else. 

“Sorry,” I whisper, voice small and tight around the lump in my throat. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, so fucking sweet with his sunflower eyes wide and concerned. I shake my head. 

“No, it’s stupid,” I squeak. “I’m being stupid. I’m sorry, it’s not your fault, you didn’t — we can — I’m fine.” 

“Do you need space, or — how can I help?” 

“Don’t go,” I breathe. “Please don’t, I’m okay, just come… come here?”  

“Okay, sweetheart,” he whispers, putting an arm around me, kissing my forehead. “Hey, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m right here. Take your time.” 

I burrow into his chest, tears stinging my eyes as I start to break the grip of whatever cold thing has been clutching at my ribcage. 

This is so fucking stupid. 

I remember to breathe, and Sam waits. He strokes my hair, whispers soothing nonsense, cradles me close. 

“I’m sorry,” I choke out eventually. I can’t look him in the eye; I look at his neck instead, the steady flutter of his pulse under the skin. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says, soft but fierce. “Nothing. You hear me?” 

“‘Kay.” I swallow hard and try to shake it off. “We can — it’s not that I don’t want to. Do you want—” 

“Stop,” he interrupts. “There’s no rush, okay? If you’re doing this because you think you should… for my sake? That’s not how it works.” 

He curls a gentle finger under my chin, tilting my head back until I meet his eyes, and I feel hot all over at the tenderness in his expression. I blink away tears and give him a tiny nod. 

“This is about the guy you told me about?” he asks, tentative. “Was it… it was more than you made it out to be, wasn’t it?” 

I nod again. I don’t trust myself to make words. My heart is racing, and I can feel the panicked beat of it in my throat, choking me. 

“We need to talk about this, at some point. Okay? You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, but I need to know what not to do. I don’t ever want to scare you.” 

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling raw and exposed and so goddamn crazy about him. 

“We don’t have to do that now, though. Just rest. You’re safe with me.” 

2.

 “Good morning, gorgeous,” Sam whispers when I stir. He’s spooned up behind me, one big solid arm around my waist, and I settle myself more comfortably in the cocoon of his embrace. Then I remember. 

“About last night—” I start hesitantly. 

“If you’re going to try to apologize again, stop right there,” he says, and I can hear the wry smile in his voice. “But if you want to talk about it…” 

We didn’t close the curtains, and the morning sun is filtering through the blinds of the motel room, making everything feel clean and bright and fresh. It’s easier like this, too, with my back to Sam. I don’t have to feel his eyes on me. 

“There hasn’t been anyone else, since,” I admit. My voice sounds very small in the quiet of the room. “So… I don’t really know what causes it. Not for sure.”  

Sam exhales slowly, his breath tickling the curve of my neck. “What happened last night, to set it off?” 

“Having you on top of me, I think. It’s not — you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Neither did you. That’s all on him,” Sam says. The faintest hint of a growl in his voice takes me by surprise. “No blame, okay? I’m not going to take it personally. Not ever.” 

“Okay. Um. Feeling… held down, or trapped. And you shouldn’t — don’t grab my wrists?” 

“I can do that. What else?” 

“I think… just, not too rough?” I ask, cheeks burning. “I don’t think I could handle… too much. The first time, at least.” 

“Okay,” he agrees calmly. “And what else? What does work for you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“This isn’t about, like, just making it manageable for you,” he says, low and earnest, kissing the curve of my neck. “I want to make you feel good.” 

“Oh,” I say breathlessly. “Oh. Um.” 

I’m suddenly very conscious of his hand splayed over my lower abdomen, his palm warm through the thin cotton of my tank top.  He must feel the way my belly tightens, because he slides his hand a little lower, thumb tucking under the hem and stroking back and forth, tickling deliciously. 

It’s such a light touch, a barely-there brush, but it’s sending sparks down my spine. I wriggle back against Sam, wondering if the sudden crackle of tension in the air is just my imagination. 

“I want to know what gets you off.” Sam’s voice is husky and heated, and my breath hitches. It’s not just my imagination, then. “I want to make you come. It’s not just about… penetration, or whatever.” He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, and I wonder if that’s the first time someone has made the word penetration sound sexy. “Do you want me to touch you? Do you want my mouth?” 

I shift, and I can feel him getting hard through his pajama pants. 

“Yeah,” I whisper.  

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I want that. Sam… want you.” 

His hand slides lower, until the tips of his pinky and ring finger are dipping under the elastic of my shorts. 

“When you touch yourself,” he says quietly. “What do you do? Can you show me?” 

“I don’t—”

His hand finds mine where it’s curled loosely on the mattress, slides under it so that my palm rests on the back of his, and he laces our fingers together, bringing our joined hands back to my stomach. 

“Can you show me?” he repeats, and the warmth of his hand is burning through my shirt, pooling in my core, making me want like I haven’t wanted another person in a long time. 

“Oh.” I take a deep breath. 

I guide his hand lower, flush against my skin, under my waistband and down until his fingers cup my cunt. When I press my middle finger down against his, he moves with me, one long finger parting my lips and stroking through silky wet heat. He follows my lead, waiting for me, his knuckle bending when mine does, nudging against my entrance. His finger is so much longer than mine. When I curl it, pressing in, it’s him sliding into me, his fingertip, shallow and easy. 

I exhale slowly, not pushing, and he stays, chest rising against my back as he sucks in a deep breath, waiting for my direction. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?” I ask. 

“Yeah,” he says, low and gravelly. 

“Good.” 

I’m shaky and wet and aching with how much I want him, and I’m not sure where this is going, not sure I’m ready for more than his fingers, but I need him to understand: none of this, none of my hesitation, is because I don’t want him. 

I draw his hand up, showing him where to stroke with one slick fingertip, circling my clit, and I can feel him trembling too, all down my back, his cock hard where it presses against my ass. This torturous drawn-out intensity, the way he’s waiting for me… it’s almost unbearable, but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to move any faster. 

We breathe in sync, both our chests heaving at the same time as the zing of it ripples out through me, and —

Someone bangs on the door. 

“Up and at ‘em!” Dean shouts. “C’mon, let’s hit the road.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, as Sam lets out a low groan. It takes every bit of my willpower to pull away. When I roll to face him, he’s just as wild-eyed as I feel, flushed and panting and gorgeous. 

We’re both paralyzed for a second, staring at each other, until he lets out a long sigh. 

“Later,” he husks, and it sounds like a promise. 

“Later.” 

3.

Later, when we fall into bed, I’m shaking for a completely different reason. 

It wasn’t a bad hunt, in the end. It’s just one moment that keeps replaying in my memories on a sickening loop. There was so much blood, all down the side of his face and neck, and he went still in a way that made my heart stop for a second. 

Apparently ears bleed a lot. 

I felt a little embarrassed when I saw the injury, a barely-there slice through the cartilage, but I couldn’t shake the sight of all that blood. There’s still traces of it on his skin, dried in his hair. My stomach churns whenever I catch a glimpse of rusty red. 

He pulls the comforter up over us, lying on his uninjured side, and I kiss him, deep and starved, my entire body vibrating with the tension of lingering adrenaline, like my skin is sparking up with the reminder that we’re still alive and we should enjoy it while we can. 

I can feel it in his muscles, too, the way he’s holding back, holding himself stiff like he has to restrain himself. He rolls onto his back and takes me with him, arms strong around me, body warm and ready under me. 

I choke on a quiet sob, trying to hold it in.

Sam freezes, big hands cupping my cheeks as he breaks the kiss. He looks at me, eyes deep green-gold in the lamplight. 

“It’s not — it’s not that. You scared me.” 

“I know,” he says. “I know. It’s okay. I’m here.” 

“Want you,” I say fiercely, watching the way his swollen-red lips twitch into a bittersweet smile. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not when you’re already on edge. If your fight or flight system is still all revved up…” 

He’s right, but I hate it. He brushes hair back from my forehead and kisses me again, chaste and quick. 

“Okay,” I whisper, against his mouth. “Just… god, you scared me, Sam.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and I kiss one corner of his mouth, then the other. 

“I need a shower,” he says. 

I frown, feeling childish as I confess, “I don’t want to be alone.” 

“I didn’t mean — come with me,” he suggests. “Shower with me. Not — no sex.” 

I raise an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Really?”

“You don’t have to,” he backtracks gently. “If you’re not ready to—” 

“Sam, I’ve wanted to see you naked since I met you,” I say flatly. “Believe me, that is not the problem.” 

He laughs, dimples flashing as he grins up at me. “Then… yeah. Come shower with me. I don’t want to let you out of my sight either.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

He only turns on half the bathroom lights, keeping it dim. The harsh fluorescents would be too much. It’s easier to pull my shirt off when I feel like I can still hide in the shadows. 

I try not to stare as he strips down matter-of-factly and steps in, but it’s not easy. It’s not easy to look at myself, either, when I compare my body to Sam’s. I get my clothes off before I can talk myself out of it, tripping clumsily out of my jeans. 

He must see something different than I do when I look at myself, because the way he stares at me when I step into the shower… he looks at me like he never wants to stop looking. 

I’ve never felt like this before, shaky and vulnerable and open but in a good way, because somehow I’m sure I’m not the only one feeling like this. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust Sam. That trust is what stops me from covering myself with my hands, stops me from doubting myself as I step under the spray with him and stand up on my tiptoes for a kiss. 

One kiss turns into more, syrupy-slow, water streaming down our skin as we melt into each other. Sam licks and sucks and nibbles at my mouth until my lips feel puffy and bruised. I adjust, slowly, to the feel of his body against mine, the way my soft curves mold to the muscled planes of his chest, the way his cock twitches against my stomach as he gets hard, and even though I can feel the length of him hot and heavy between us, he doesn’t press for more; he kisses me like this is all he’s ever wanted to do. 

By the time he pulls away, I’m light-headed. He looks down at me with water beading in his spiky eyelashes, and he smiles. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says simply, and somehow, I believe him. 

I don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He grabs his shampoo from the edge of the tub and turns me around, my back to his chest. 

He massages little sudsy circles into my scalp and combs his fingers gently through the tangles. He shields my eyes when it’s time to rinse, tilting my chin back gently into the spray. Nobody’s done this for me since I was a child. It makes me feel innocent and serene and fucking treasured, the way he takes care of me. 

Sex has always felt like the height of intimacy to me. I always feel vulnerable, like that’s the closest I can get to another person, the most exposed. 

Sam’s fingers in my hair feel like a better expression of trust than anything I’ve ever done in bed. Sex has never felt this intimate. I’m not sure anything has ever felt this intimate. 

Everything starts to fade, the leftover adrenaline draining out of me, the outside world ceasing to matter. It’s just Sam and me, completely bare, wrapped in our little steamy cocoon. I feel safe. I feel exhausted, heavy-eyed and heavy-limbed, muscles aching, but I don’t feel pressured and I don’t feel nervous. I just feel safe. 

4.

Maybe it’s the booze talking, but I want to lick Sam’s arms. 

He’s stretched out over the pool table as he lines up his shot, eyes laser-focused, hands curled around the cue. He has his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and I can see veins standing out under the skin, corded muscles rippling, bunching and shifting with every twist of his wrist. 

Yeah. I want to lick Sam’s arms. 

Dean spits out a sip of his beer, spluttering out a vehement, “Ew, I don’t want to hear that shit!”  

So apparently I said that out loud. 

Dean stalks away, muttering to himself, and I chirp a quick “Sorry!” to his retreating back. 

He’ll get over it. 

Sam’s done with his game, and he’s walking toward me, grinning in that slow easy way of his as he tucks his hair behind his ears. He’s so fucking gorgeous. I can’t handle not touching him any more. 

“Can we get some air?” I ask breathlessly, and his eyes sparkle with amusement as he lets me tug him outside. 

There are a couple people smoking by the door, so I pull him farther away, down to the end of the building, where a tacky wooden statue of a bear stands between us and the door. It’s close enough to privacy. 

Sam slouches back against the brick, and I stand up on my tiptoes to kiss him, leaning against him and trusting him to keep me upright. He goes with it, opening up for me as I take control of the kiss, his lips pillowy, and I can feel him smile. 

“What was that for?” he asks, when I give him a second to breathe. I nuzzle into the side of his neck and nip at his pulse, and his fingers tighten on my hips. 

“Just want you,” I say bluntly. I kiss him again, a deep filthy kiss that I can feel down to my toes. “I was watching you, and… yeah. Want you. Can we go back to the motel?” 

“You’re drunk,” he says, mock-admonishing, but he’s still smiling. 

“‘M not drunk, you’re drunk,” I mumble sulkily. 

“Yep,” he says, popping the P, and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay,” I concede. “Tipsy, maybe.” 

“Which is still too drunk,” Sam says gently. 

I let out a tiny frustrated sound as he kisses me again. “Fine.” 

He laughs, shifting his weight, getting one knee between mine, and when I settle closer, I can feel the blunt pressure of his thigh right between my legs. 

“Believe me,” he whispers, between kisses, “I would really, really love to take you back to the motel right now but… it’s not a good idea.” He shifts, and I whine at the friction. “I’m not going to have sex with you tonight. I want us both to be sober for that. When we get there… I want to remember every second of it.” 

“Kinda worried I’m gonna combust before then.” The drag of denim on denim pulls at the seam of my jeans, almost painfully good, and I shiver. 

“Oh,” he says quietly, like he didn’t realize that he was torturing me. He rocks forward experimentally. It feels like fireworks. 

“Don’t oh me,” I grump, except it comes out more breathless than grumpy. 

“It’ll be worth the wait,” he whispers. “Don’t want to rush it. Want to take my time with you. I want to watch you come for me, want to taste it —” 

I whimper, rolling my hips helplessly, clinging to Sam so tight that my fingers must be bruising his biceps. 

“Do you like thinking about that?” he asks, growling low against my ear. “My mouth?” 

“Please,” I bite out. “Fuck, Sam, I need — something. Anything.” I tilt my hips down again, trying to make my point. 

He hesitates for a split second before rocking up to meet me, and I let out a ragged sigh. 

“I won’t — not tonight, not more than this,” he says hoarsely, stumbling over the words. His hands grip my hips, holding me still as he asks intently, “Are you sure this is okay right now? If you really want —”

“Please,” I say again. I meet his eyes, embarrassed by how much I want him but steady in spite of it. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol making me feel like this, loose and relaxed and reckless, or maybe it’s just Sam, the way he’s letting me take the lead, the way he groans when I shudder against him, the way I trust him with my life and trust him enough to let him see me fall apart like this. 

And I am falling apart. I work my hips in little circles, feeling the dull burn of it clench in my gut with every tiny movement, pushing myself closer to the edge. 

Sam just lets me, chest heaving, murmuring filthy-sweet things in my ear: “I’m all yours. Anything. Don’t care how long I have to wait, just — want to make you feel good. Want you on top of me, want you to just — ride my mouth, rub yourself all over my tongue, want —” 

I let out a tiny, bitten-off whimper, hiding my face against his shoulder. My muscles spasm as I come, jerking against him, feeling it thud through me all at once like a punch to the gut. 

I’m almost surprised by it, and by the wave of relief that washes through me. It’s not the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, but it’s the easiest by far. I never realized I could get off like that. 

Then again, any experience I’ve ever had with dry-humping was with the guy on top of me, hipbones bruising my thighs, and… yeah. No thank you. 

“Jesus,” Sam breathes, arms around me, supporting my weight as I collect myself.

“That was… unexpected,” I blurt out, and I giggle helplessly as I pull back to look at him. He grins back, and there’s something so dazed and beautiful in his expression that I lose my breath all over again. 

“I —” Sam starts, but he catches himself, shutting his mouth abruptly.

I’m falling in love with you, I think, heart pounding, but I know I can’t say it now, can’t say it like this. 

Sam and I look at each other in silence for a second, and then the moment passes. I flush, self-conscious, an apology on the tip of my tongue. 

“Don’t apologize, that was one of the hottest things that’s ever happened to me,” Sam says preemptively, before I can form the words. “You should go inside, before Dean comes looking for us. Just… give me a second?” He adjusts himself in his jeans, making a face, and I giggle. 

“See you in there.” 

5.

“That was easy,” Dean comments, as we buckle our seatbelts. “Where to next? Sammy, did you find anything in the paper this morning?” 

“Actually,” Sam says. “I could really use an evening off. Can we grab some food and go back to the motel and just… chill for the night?” 

He and Dean exchange one of those Winchester looks that don’t mean anything to anyone else but the two of them. 

“Sure,” Dean says easily. Sam smiles at me in the rearview, and I think, oh. 

My brain is my worst enemy. By the time we pull into the motel lot, I’m panicking, and I’m not even sure why. 

Sam’s laughing at something Dean just said, bathed in gold late-afternoon light, and he’s incredible, and I should want nothing more than to get him in our room and jump him, but my chest feels tight and I’m convinced that I’ll freeze up, freak out, mess it all up, and he’ll give up, he’s already been so patient — 

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asks. The driver’s side door slams behind Dean, breaking me out of my trance. 

“Fine,” I say, too brightly. “I’m fine.” 

He studies me for a second, head tilted, and I try to smile at him. It doesn’t work. 

“I’m not fine,” I amend, and feel my face crumple. 

“Hang on one sec?” Sam asks, and I take a second to compose myself as he jumps out of the car. He and Dean have a whispered powwow and then Sam returns, key in hand, sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“Come sit up front,” he says easily, without explanation. “Let’s go for a drive.” 

“We can —” I try, but he cuts me off. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like there’s pressure,” he says firmly. “I just want to spend time with you. Let’s just… go for a drive.” 

So that’s what we do. When we leave the strip mall hell that surrounds the motel, Sam gets off the highway and we’re in the woods, driving up a winding mountain road. Sam seems to know where he’s headed; he mutters “Think it’s around here somewhere,” at one point, and then eventually he turns onto the Blue Ridge Parkway. 

He drives slow, easing into the sharp curves. I can breathe again. It’s hard to feel panicky out here, up in the open air, close to the pink-tinted sky. When the trees open up there are views of sprawling valleys, just starting to turn orange and yellow in the first hints of fall. 

There’s a wide pull-off for a scenic overlook, “Rocky Knob,” and Sam parks. The sun is setting behind us and the clouds are lined in deep pink now. 

Sam spreads his coat out on the scratchy grass, right in front of Baby, and we sit next to each other, watching in easy silence as the light fades and dusk falls. 

“Thank you,” I say quietly, tilting my head onto his shoulder. He slips an arm around me and I shift, turning to settle more comfortably against his side. A sliver of moon is just visible on the horizon. 

“You know you don’t —” he starts. His voice sounds choked and strange. “There’s nothing to thank me for. I just like seeing you happy. That’s more important to me than… any of the rest of it.” 

“Thank you,” I repeat, firmly, and he lets out a laugh that’s more of a sigh. 

I twist to kiss him, intending to make it a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, but he turns to meet me, tongue flickering over my lower lip, teeth scraping ever so carefully. One hand finds my cheek, and his fingers are so long that I feel dwarfed by the way they cradle and caress and pull me closer. 

I crawl into his lap, straddling him. He has one hand on the small of my back and the other between my shoulderblades, steadying me. I trace the hard lines of bones under skin, running my fingers along the jut of his jaw and stroking the hinge of it with my thumb, sliding the other hand back to cup the shape of his skull, and for all his size and strength he feels fragile under my fingers. I brush over his pulse and rub the soft hollow behind his ear, and I can feel how fragile this is, this thing between us and the way it makes him shake when he breathes. 

We’re both shaking, I realize, as I rest my forehead against his. The tip of my nose nudges against his. The curve of his lower lip brushes mine, barely, not intentional enough to be a kiss, just… close. 

Not close enough. Never close enough. 

“Sam,” I start, voice wobbling dangerously, but I don’t even know where to begin. His fingers twist in the back of my shirt, fisted in the fabric like he’s afraid to let go. He exhales — inhales — trembles. 

Somehow I never considered that I might not be the only one here who’s scared. 

I kiss him one more time, trying to tell him how I feel even if I can’t say the words yet, and then I pull away to look at him. His eyes catch and reflect the moonlight, glittering in the dark. 

“Let’s go,” I say, and my voice isn’t shaking any more. 

6.

Sam’s nervous. He doesn’t know what to do with himself once the motel room door clicks shut behind us; he turns the desk lamp on and just stands there, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight uncomfortably. 

“We could watch a movie?” he offers. His hesitation makes it easier, somehow, to take the lead; I go up to him and tug at the hem of his shirt as I kiss his jaw. 

“I don’t want to watch a movie,” I say firmly. I slide my hands under his shirt and run my thumbs over the ridges of his hipbones. “Take this off?” 

He strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side, smiling, shy and happy. 

We kiss and shed layers and kiss again, stumbling back toward the bed. When the backs of my legs hit the mattress, we’re down to our underwear, and even though I’ve seen Sam naked, now, the sight of him takes me by surprise. It doesn’t seem fair, how beautiful he is. All the bare golden skin throws me off-balance. 

He moves slowly into my space, running his hands up my arms to cup my shoulders, and when he kisses me, my head spins. I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed, feeling clumsy and stupid. Sam just folds to his knees in front of me, smiling up at me patiently. 

“Can I?” he asks softly. He runs his hands up my legs and hooks his fingers in the elastic of my panties. When I nod, he tugs, and I lift my hips to let him slide the fabric down until it’s out of the way. 

He moves closer, kneeling between my spread legs. He doesn’t look shy any more. He looks hungry, pupils huge in kaleidoscope blue-gold irises as he watches me through his lashes. 

I nod again, silently giving him permission, and his lips curl into a smile. Sam hooks his hands under my thighs and pulls me forward, until I’m right on the edge of the bed. 

“Give me your hand?” he asks, and when I do, he brings it to his head, tangling my fingers through his silky hair. I lean on my other hand to brace myself and the position opens me up for him even more. “You’re in charge,” he reminds me. 

The first lick is slow, just a smooth wet curl of heat tracing up my center, good in a way that’s easy and sweet even if it’s not the ‘god more now’ kind of pleasure. I run my fingers through Sam’s hair idly, trying to relax. He does it again, dipping down and dragging up, before swirling his tongue over my clit, and the friction coils up and rolls out through my core. The next lush swipe of his tongue has more pressure behind it, and he lingers on my clit, flattening his tongue, massaging. I let out a little sigh, and he hums approvingly. 

“Want you to tell me what feels good, okay?” he asks, mouthing at the crease of my hip. “Or show me. Hold me where you want me.” 

How does he just say those things? 

Sam buries his face between my legs again, not just licking but working me over with his open mouth pressed to my cunt like he’s kissing me. He gets my clit between his lips and sucks gently, and it’s so good that I tug him closer helplessly, giving in to the pleasure before I even have a chance to hold back. 

“Sorry,” I gasp, relaxing my grip when I realize how hard I’m pulling. “Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to —” 

“I like it,” Sam growls, the words vibrating right up against me. Then he’s doing that thing again, slick pulsing pressure, and I give in, twisting my fingers in his hair and tilting my hips up to meet his mouth as my eyes roll back in my head. He moans low in his throat.

Every wave of suction feels more intense. It’s sharp and bright and perfect, building so fast I’m not sure what to do with myself; all I can do is hold on and arch up and shudder. I can feel it pulling up from my fingers, my toes, an inevitable swell of pressure under my skin until the wave of it finally crests and I come with a shout, long and drawn-out, one shock of pleasure after another. 

“Fucking — fuck, Sam,” I whine, my voice coming out embarrassingly high-pitched and cracked. He flicks his tongue over me again and I twitch, jerking away from the raw-nerve feel of it. 

When I drag my eyes open he’s looking up at me, smiling, a dimple just visible as he turns his head to kiss my inner thigh. 

The fuck am I supposed to say to that? 

Apparently I can’t say anything to that. I think my brain has gone permanently offline. 

Sam sort of scoops me up and deposits me farther back on the bed, where I’m not at risk of falling down on my ass, and I grin dazedly as he stands up. His mouth is red and swollen and it looks like sin. 

“Still with me?” he asks, and I nod. “Be right back.”  

I scoot back until I can get under the blanket and sink into the pillows. I hear Sam rummaging in his shower kit, then the water running, but I don’t have the mental capacity to pay attention. My eyes are half-closed by the time he comes back. 

He sets a bottle of lube down on the nightstand and I avert my eyes uncomfortably, taking the glass of water he offers before he slides into bed next to me. 

“Why did that just make you get all shy?” he asks softly, correctly interpreting my expression. I shrug and twist away to set the glass down, but when I turn back to him, he’s still waiting for an answer. 

I cuddle close, tucking my head under his chin, listening to him breathe for a moment. He’s naked, hard against my hip, and I’m almost surprised by the way my body responds to that; my stomach flips, hot and eager, in spite of my racing thoughts. 

“It’s like… all of this,” I say hoarsely. “It just makes me feel like I’m being a pain in the ass. Because it’s supposed to be simpler than this. It means I’m not wet enough, and… I want you, and that should be the only thing that matters, and instead we have to go through this whole process of talking about my issues and… it’s supposed to be easier than this, and it’s my fault.” 

Sam is very still, muscles stiff, and for a moment I’m afraid he’s angry. 

“It’s not ‘supposed to’ be anything other than good for you,” he says sharply. “Look at me for a second.” 

I pull back, taking in the fierce, raw expression on his face. My chest feels tight. 

“Everybody’s different,” Sam says, quiet and intense. “Everybody has shit they like and don’t like, places they like being touched… it’s not an issue, and it’s especially not your issue. You’re not being difficult by telling me how to help you enjoy yourself. I want that. I want to know how to make you feel good. Okay?” 

“Okay,” I whisper. 

“And if I ever meet any of your exes —” he says, jaw clenching, eyes stormy. I let out a nervous little giggle, and his expression melts from thunderous to soft before he continues, “It makes me happy knowing that you feel safe. It’s hot, watching you get off on it… your reaction is what turns me on more than anything.” 

My stomach swoops. I slide closer, running a thumb over the soft swollen curve of his lower lip. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes, voice dropping down low. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He rubs his palm over the curve of my hip like he can’t get enough of my bare skin. “When you were pulling my hair and just — the way you were shaking —” 

I cut him off with a kiss, melding my body to his, and he smiles against my mouth before opening up easily, kissing me back with these slow, sultry swipes of his tongue. I can feel him everywhere: bare all down my front, hands roaming like he can’t help himself, close and feverish under the blanket. I push it down, shivering at the cool air on my sweaty skin. 

When I tangle a hand in his hair and tug slightly, Sam makes a gorgeous needy sound, and his cock twitches, hard and thick against my stomach. I push him onto his back and he goes easily, pliant under me, looking up with a flush on his cheeks and a smile on his lips as I straddle him. For a moment I feel paralyzed by the sight of him. The moment stretches and I just stare. 

Sam runs his hands up my hips, sliding one hand up between my breasts before tracing the curve of one with his knuckles, dragging his thumb over my nipple and circling as the skin pebbles under his touch. My shivery sigh of pleasure breaks whatever spell we were under. 

I duck down to kiss him again, and the movement presses the ridge of his cock right between my legs, silky skin hot where it slots up against me. When I roll my hips, we both groan. 

I reach for the lube. His smile goes smirky at the edges. 

“If you say ‘I told you so’ right now, I swear to god —” I blurt out, and we’re both laughing as I touch him, slicking him up messily. 

It’s the laughter that erases the last of my doubts. My nervous giggle bursts like a bubble in my chest, releasing whatever tension I was holding there. I just feel light and giddy and happy as I wipe my hand on the blankets and position myself. 

Then I’m sinking down, opening up around him, and the sudden aching stretch turns my laugh into a breathy moan. Sam is watching me as I work my hips down, taking him in. His eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

I understand, now, what Sam meant: your reaction is what turns me on. Because if I’d wanted him before, it was nothing compared to how I feel now. He tilts his head back, arching up and exposing his throat, tendons shifting under the skin as he strains under me and gasps out my name, and the clenching wave of need in my belly is blinding. 

Fuck. 

I shift, lean forward, sparking up some new kind of friction deep inside where I’m so full of him, and I’m whimpering as I kiss him gently. 

“Okay?” he asks. I cup a hand to his jaw and he brings his own up to cover it, an oddly tender gesture. 

“So much better than okay,” I tell him. It’s the truth. 

I take it slow. We kiss, mouths clumsy with need, and I take it slow. 

It takes a few minutes to adjust to his size. I rock my hips in tiny little movements, circling, twisting, feeling all the different ways there are to just feel him. Every movement brings some new sort of sensation as he drags against every sweet spot deep inside me. 

I’m barely moving. I know he must want to fuck up into me, thrust, but he holds back, holds himself steady, lets me take what I need while he whispers sweet bits of nonsense against my lips. He tells me I’m beautiful, tells me I feel incredible, tells me I’m safe, and I trust him. 

Then I grind down harder, and something flares up inside me, quivering out from where his cock is pressing deep in my belly. I do it again. The low dull throb of it has me trembling, panting against his mouth as I brace myself to get more, harder, clenching around him desperately. 

Sam slides a hand down between us, flattening his palm over that spot, and I can feel the pressure building right there, but I need more. 

“Sit up for me?” he asks raggedly. “Lean back, it’ll —” 

He grits his teeth and cuts himself off, but I do it without questioning, sitting back on my heels and bracing my hands behind me. I would feel exposed if I wasn’t distracted by how good this feels. I’m barely moving, still, but Sam presses his palm down and tilts his hips up, and it’s like I can feel the molten force of it everywhere, like it’s going to split my skin. 

Sam looks as close to the edge as I feel, eyes glazed, and I can feel him jerking up to meet me. 

“Do it,” I hiss, and when he thrusts up for real, the surge of pressure makes me cry out, loud and shameless like I never am. 

One last urgent grinding roll, one last surge of pressure, and I’m gone. I let my head fall back and let go, trusting Sam to keep me tethered to the earth as everything else goes brilliant white and sends me flying. 

I’m distantly aware of the way he curses and twists up, the way he swells and twitches inside me, but there’s so much sensation that I can’t separate what’s him and what’s me; it’s all just one hot slick rhythmic pulsing rush as we ride it out, together. 

When I start to go shaky and useless, Sam tugs me so that I flop forward onto his chest. I melt against him, face buried in the sweaty crook of his neck, skin thrumming with satisfaction. I kiss whatever bit of him is close to my mouth, and he tastes like salt. 

“So that’s what that’s supposed to feel like,” I mumble. 

“I don’t think it’s ever felt like that, with anyone,” Sam says quietly, like he’s telling me a secret. “But… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, so.” 

I can tell he’s holding his breath. I put my palm on his chest. His heart is pounding, racing in counterpoint to mine, and I want to tell him that he’s safe; he can trust me with this. 

“Me too,” I whisper, and he exhales. 

.

.

.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or leave me a message? It means the world. 

Thanks for reading. 

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—   KEEP THE LIGHTS ON

SUMMARY : “Hi!! First time requesting a fic so if this is dumb.. well yeah. A fic where Dean and the reader are about to do it (😏😏) and hes very focused on her thighs/hips area and she's got stretch marks there and he traces/kisses/grabs them? It's rough, intense, and passionate? 😳😶 okay love you and your writing byeee 🏃‍♀️” — anon

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), smut, as always unspecified skin colour and weight (lol), 

WORD COUNT : 2.0k

A/N : close your eyes song title. I loved this request as soon as I got it, and that’s why it didn’t take long! I’ve seen some stretch marks are lighter than the skin and others are darker than the skin and also that they feel like grooves so, I hope this is okay! *insert Scott Pilgrim and the L-word scene bc I can’t say ILY* AND HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY Xx

You’d never been so comfortable and confident with a man before. Comfortable with yourself. Confident in your own skin.. Every insecurity you had in every other aspect of your life, sex-releated or not, flew out the window because you knew Dean. 

He had a way of making you feel beautiful all the time. Either with his facial expressions when you caught him staring, his words when you were alone, his actions at any chance he had to get his hands on you. He was very expressive, wordlessly so, and gesticulating. 

You had to get to know the real him to understand him and, you know… he’s complicated. He’s guarded, but beneath all that there’s a soft centre to him, like a brownie. And overall, he’s sweet and good and soft. Perfect. Like a brownie. 

Eventually, getting a read on him gets easier, but not entirely easy. Which is why he was currently taking your breath away with his lips moving down your neck and his hands tangled in your hair as he guided you down the hallway to his room. But only after admitting he’d been wanting to get you in his bed for years and you’d be damned if you let your fears and worries get in the way of getting your first taste of him after pining for him almost as long as he’d carried a torch for you. 

You had to be stupid to believe that Dean was shallow and cared only about a woman's appearance or attractiveness. You never thought you weren’t enough all those times Dean left with or hit on any women but you. All you thought was that he simply didn’t see you that way, which was only half of the truth. He wanted something more than one night with you and he just didn’t have the guts to tell you so. 

But tonight, after a sleepy hangout at the Dean Cave, after watching a variety of movies that Dean liked—movies he excitedly wanted you to enjoy as well when you said you’d never watched them before. And then going to the kitchen to get more snacks for the next film… 

Well, you don’t really remember what led to it, maybe you said something in your exhausted state. Or maybe he did. You had a feeling that if you made the first move and confessed something you wouldn’t have in the right state of mind, he’d hold it over you and tease you about it—if everything went well. 

Or maybe it was just a buildup of every little thing that the two of you shared with each other and all the history and all of everything else that you were. 

Now that you had his mouth on yours, quick and firm and desperate for attention and for a taste of you… You had a feeling making your stomach flutter. To some extent, the two of you were very aware of each other’s feelings and still decided to do nothing about it. 

What a waste of fucking time. 

Still, something about waiting made this much more intense. Your skin ignited at his touch when his fingers snuck up into your shirt. Your flesh became warmer and warmer after each rapid heartbeat, excitement from his wet, breathy kisses. The air in your lungs failed to escape correctly, failing to reach the full capacity of oxygen the more thrilled you became. 

You wanted to devour him whole. But all you could do was kiss him back with as much passion and fervour as you possibly could. Your palms smoothed up scarred skin, flushed and warm and taut. Your nails scratched and your fingers tugged at anything of his that you could hold onto. 

When you got to his room, he’d made your head spin more than it already was from his kiss when he pushed you into his bedroom door to shut it. 

“Sweetheart,” he moaned against your mouth and your breath audibly hitched. The sound of his voice, the way he spoke that pet-name to you made your stomach clench and your clit throb. Or maybe it was the way he pinned your lower body to the door with his hips and the way he held your gaze when he flexed his hand beneath your shirt, his fingers spread across your ribcage.

His other hand moved back up to your cheek and his thumb brushed against your cheekbone. Your lips parted at first when he did that and your eyes searched his curious eyes longingly, but he seemed to be on his own mission. You bit your lip anxiously instead as you attempted to maintain eye contact, your cheeks burned when his green eyes dropped down to your lips. All you could feel was his erection pressed into your soft skin through the flimsy layers of his pyjama pants. 

And then his cock twitched. 

It was driving you crazy.

Being this close to him felt like a chemical reaction. You bubbled as he came into contact with you and you could probably evaporate into nothing if you were just a reactant. You never thought you’d feel consumed entirely by a person as if they were a reagent. You’d be embarrassed if it were anyone else but Dean who made you feel this pathetic. 

Your eyes reacted faster than your body when Dean dove back down to capture your bottom lip. He sucked on it softly and rolled his hips into you and you breathed shakily against his mouth at the combination of pleasant sensations that occurred simultaneously. 

You buried your fingers in his hair and then you felt his own gripping your hips tightly. God, you wished he’d dig into you and mark you permanently, but instead your thoughts ran through the imaginary engine of a plane and turned into smithereens when his tongue entered your mouth.

He lifted you up and his hands slid roughly from your ass to your thighs. You clung to him and kissed him hard, pouring yourself wholly into the kiss until he drunkenly stumbled to his bed and dropped you into it. All the while, he was still completely attached to you and getting more desperate now that you were as malleable as dough in his expert hands.

He pulled away from you breathlessly, lips parted and wet and red and perfectly kissed. His cheeks puffed a little and he had a tiny smile that shined mostly in his eyes when they fluttered open. You thought you’d be sucked right into his dilated pupils as he admired you beneath him, but he went right back to your neck and your cleavage while his hands pushed and pulled away at your clothes to get you naked.

For the fraction of a second, your body snapped out of the trance he’d placed you in when you felt his fingers trace and dip gently into the marks on your skin. The magic was gone only for a few moments when you opened your eyes to him between your bare legs, he looked up at you in surprise. Surprised at your reaction.

“What?” He frowned at you. The cute pout made your eyes brighten and your body relaxed once more as you smiled down at him. 

You were hesitant and he was patient. And then his expression mirrored yours, smiley. But he was so soft, with those crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and those dimples above his pillowy lips. He didn’t even make a big deal out of it and that made you release a soft breath and with it, the tension disappeared from your body. 

“Are you sure?” You asked him, pressing your teeth into your bottom lip. He lifted a brow at you before both brows came together in amused confusion. He slowly pulled himself up your body and shamelessly dropped his hips at your centre, practically grinding his covered erection against your bare, wet core. 

You inhaled sharply and he smirked at you. He slid his forearm up beside your head to balance his upper body above yours and continued to brush his thumb against the lines you were more than familiar with that resided at your hips. 

“Wanna hear it explicitly, is that it?” He murmured, his tongue dipping out to pull his lower lip into his mouth. Then he planted his teeth on the shimmering, plump flesh. What a journey. 

You were amused when your eyes flickered back up to his and you pulled your own lip between your teeth. He was cocky and maybe it didn’t help that you were a mess beneath him, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

“I’m gonna fuck you hard in my bed,” he told you. Your eyes widened slightly and you breathed unevenly as he rocked his hips against your heat. “But first, I’m gonna memorise every inch of your body and I’m gonna make you wait ‘til I’m satisfied. And only then,” he whispered, dropping kisses along your cheek and jaw, “I’ll give you what you want.” 

You licked your lips and allowed Dean to move lower to pepper kisses along your breasts until he slowly made his way back down between your legs. Part of you wanted to whine when he brushed his fingers over your stretch marks again, but there was something about how casual he was about them that made you want to see where this was going.

“What do I want?” You grinned down at him just as his lips made contact with the lines in contrasting colour to your skin. He smirked and looked at you through his lashes. His warm breath tickled your thighs when he chuckled and you shivered, bumping his bicep playfully with your knee. 

“Me, I hope,” he answered, almost bashfully. He buried his fingers into your hips and pulled at your skin, following the lines that decorated your body while keeping his eyes on you. You squirmed as he continued to touch and mouth at your stretch marks. “But mostly, my dick.” 

You laughed, “what?” And Dean nipped at your hip, along a few lines on either side of your body and your body shuddered pleasantly. 

“You asked what you wanted. I said: me and my dick,” he recapped for you playfully. You rolled your eyes at him, but you couldn’t help smiling. Dean went from playful to sexy and dragged his lips down your pelvis. Your hips wiggled in anticipation and your breath became shallow, but Dean only breathed against your soaked cunt. “If… all ‘a this proves anything.”

The warm air slipping between his lips aroused you to the point of wanting to pull his face between your legs and trap him there with your thighs. You felt yourself turn hot at his words, both from embarrassment and from lust.

“Dean, please,” you begged with a whiny laugh. 

Instead of replying with something witty, he swirled his tongue around your entrance with a moan. You felt his spit and you held your breath when he flatted his tongue and dragged it up to your clit. You closed your eyes and arched your back when he sucked and flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit. 

And then it was all gone and your body became loose once more. You opened your eyes to Dean pulling his shirt over his head, exposing the freckled skin you’ve always wanted to kiss and mark with your mouth when you patched him up on hunts. 

Before you could get your hands on him, he got out of bed and pulled his pants and boxers down his legs swiftly. He barely gave you time to see, to admire what you came to accept as the prettiest cock you’d ever seen. 

“I told you,” he smirked, slipping between your legs and lowering himself on your body to kiss you. “I’m takin’ my time.” You groaned in protest against his lip, but eventually every complaint you had on taking it slowly dissipated from your mind as he pushed and pulled at your body in ways you didn’t think you’d liked until he began working your body. 

You didn’t want to admit it, but dammit… Sex with Dean was better and more satisfying than the sex you had with any other man. 

You couldn’t tell Dean that. Never. It’d go to his head. Rightfully so, but still. All you could think about is the embarrassment he’d cause you to feel by reminding you, every chance he had—with that smug smirk of his—about how good you said he makes you feel. Better than any other man. 

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[loserchildhotpants]

Another destiel prompt from Twitter; say they’re dancing together, still trying to hide their feelings for each other, and because of that, avoiding eye-contract, the best the can, to ensure that the other character doesn’t notice how attracted they are to them (from this prompt list)

“Did you just turn her down?” Dean asks incredulously; Sam is busy sipping champagne next to him, but his eyebrows convey that he would also like clarification on whatever social interaction it is that Cas just had.

They’re all dressed to the nines, stuck at a posh wedding service until they solve this rogue Cupid case; it’s a low-risk case, but a case is a case, and they’ve got it well in hand.

Dean’s not been this dressed up since Bela stuffed him in a monkey suit, and he’d wager the same applies to Sam, but this is certainly the first either of them have ever seen Cas in anything other than his cubicle-life uniform.

Cas’ suit is sharp, pressed, striking, and he’s wearing a cerulean blue tie that has everyone meeting eyes with him coming up short. Predictably, he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, so he mostly apologizes awkwardly for those he seems to startle and thanks the handsy old ladies that liken him to long dead husbands.

With two flutes of bubbly meant for Dean and himself, Cas crossed the great hall, seemed to be stopped by a gorgeous young woman with dark hair, in a low-cut dress and a very promising smirk, but whatever exchange happened left her dejected.

“She asked me to dance,” Castiel tells Dean, passing him his flute, “I regretfully informed her that I don’t know how.”

“You can’t manage a simple little box-step for that hot piece? She was practically drooling, lookin’ at you!”

“We’re on a case,” he says, as though it’s a valid excuse.

“Nuh-unh,” Dean answers, shaking his head and putting his drink down on a nearby table, “That’s - that was a travesty, what I just witnessed. Babes are fuckin’ wasted on you, Cas.”

“She’s a fully grown woman, Dean,” Castiel corrects him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he brings his glass to his lips, “Besides, I’d only be wasting her time. I cannot dance, and I’d not be amenable to having relations with her, so it’s better I -”

“Not amenable?” Dean chokes out disbelievingly, “Who the fuck are you holdin’ out for?! Angelina Jolie?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“It’s a shame you don’t know how to dance, though,” Sam interjects, seeing by the vein throbbing in his forehead that Dean is about to start shouting about beautiful women and Cas’ ineptitudes, “I could teach you, if you want.”

Castiel slants his mouth at Sam, and Sam smiles gently back at him, “I know it doesn’t sound like fun, but, honestly? It’s a good skill to have, and worst case scenario is that you brighten someone’s evening.”

Appealing to his kind nature is the right call; Cas can’t argue that point, so he puts his champagne down and walks up to Sam.

“Very well. Where do we begin?”

“Oh - we’ll probably wanna go somewhere more private, so we can move a little more freely.”

At Sam’s behest, Dean and Cas follow him across the great hall, out onto a spacious balcony, out of the way of most everyone. Double glass doors lead out to it, and flowers line stone railing; no moon is visible from where they are in the mansion, but the sky is bright with stars, and that’s light enough.

While Sam does a fine job of teaching Castiel, and Castiel is a very quick study, they struggle with their height difference while Dean tells them about their height difference, unhelpfully and repeatedly.

Eventually, Sam turns to Dean, and says, “you should step in, man.”

“What? I’m not short,” Dean pouts grumpily.

“No, but you’re at least shorter than me - it’ll make leading a little easier for him.”

Rolling his eyes as though he’s actually put out, Dean peels himself from the French window he’d been leaning on, and takes Sam’s place.

Even and paced, Castiel and Dean take a few turns around the balcony, and Sam is impressed, informing Castiel that it took him a full week of practice to stop tripping over his own feet.

“To be fair, you were still growing into them at the time” Dean jokes.

In a rare moment of familial levity between them, Sam laughs, and Dean smiles at him - all of that makes Cas smile too, and then Sam’s phone rings.

“Oh - it’s Natalie,” Sam lets them know, “She wants eyes on the dance floor for a minute - I’ll take care of it - Cas, you’re doing great, don’t stop practicing!”

To both Dean and Cas’ surprise and humor, Sam appears genuinely bereft to leave the lesson. They both seem inclined to respect Sam’s wishes, though, so they take another turn.

“You gotta stop glancing down,” Dean commands.

Flashing his eyes back up at Dean, Cas mutters, “it’s reflexive. I apologize.”

“Nah, it’s fine, man. You’ve got it,” Dean assures him, “Now that you know how to, you gonna ask that girl to dance?”

“Perhaps,” Cas tries to shrug, determinedly keeping his eyes up, “I feel certain she has moved on in her pursuits, but if I pass her again, I will offer a dance.”

“You know how?”

“Now, yes.”

“No, I mean do you know how to ask a girl to dance?”

“Is there a particular ritual involved?”

Exhaling a laugh, Dean brings them to a stop, and explains, “okay - I’m gonna show you how it’s done, alright? Then I’ll lead.”

“Understood,” Cas tells him with serious conviction, studious and militant.

Dean steps back and away, and they wait for the band’s dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight to end before proceeding.

As The Book of Love begins, the live orchestra swells from inside the hall, Dean bows just a little at the waist, with his right arm crossing his chest, but his head up, and he inquires politely, “Castiel, may I have this dance?”

Tilting his head curiously, Castiel needlessly replies, “yes, Dean, of course.”

Smiling his most winning smile, Dean straightens up, offers his hand, and nods approvingly when Castiel all but glides into step with him.

He keeps the tempo slow, but incorporates making circles, turning them ‘round and ‘round the stone and marble balcony, up and down it’s length; Cas follows him easily, trusting Dean’s direction, and always operating on a similar wavelength - Dean thinks that maybe they dance together well because they fight together well.

“This is nice, Dean,” Castiel remarks softly.

A dusting of rosiness rises up in Dean’s face; he pulls Cas a little closer to better obscure his face from scrutiny, clears his throat and makes some noncommittal noise that could be agreement or indifference.

“You’re the one who taught Sam to waltz,” Castiel surmises conversationally.

“Yeah,” Dean answers.

“How is it that you came to learn it?”

“Eh, you’d be surprised what you learn on the job,” Dean replies easily, pulling away enough to spin Cas, and then move close in again.

“... you just spun me.”

“Yeah, I was there,” Dean jokes, smirking proudly down at Cas; “Don’t worry, when you get to be a seasoned pro like me, you can snazzy up your waltz too. Maybe next you can learn to salsa or tango.”

In a moment of silence between them, Dean follows Cas’ eyes to their clasped hands; Dean’s not sure what Cas is seeing, but whatever it is, it’s making Dean nervous.

“See now what that lovely lady wanted? Feel bad yet?” Dean prompts.

Castiel’s electric eyes refocus on him, startling him with their intensity just as they had the wedding guests that were strangers to Cas, “I do understand now. However, perhaps it’s the soldier in me, but I find I much prefer following than leading.”

“Ah, that’s just ‘cause I’m a great lead,” Dean teases playfully.

“Yes, you are,” Castiel reinforces, eyes flickering between Dean’s, “You do know I would follow your lead anywhere, don’t you?”

“Christ, Cas,” Dean swears, trying to politely move his too-warm face out of view.

“Really, Dean,” Castiel adds, squeezing Dean’s hand where they’re clasped; when that doesn’t work immediately, he takes advantage of a circling turn to near their faces - their noses almost bump, and Dean has no choice but to look into Castiel’s eyes, “I want you to know. You do know, don’t you?”

Swallowing roughly, feeling possibly feverish, Dean down, then away, “... you gotta stop saying shit like that, Cas.”

“Why?” he wonders, “It’s only the truth.”

Clearing his throat again - a nervous tic he didn’t realize he had until right then - he mumbles back, “yeah, well… I talk big, but I’m flyin’ blind, so maybe don’t follow me everywhere.”

“I’m a soldier, Dean. A Commander, actually. When I delivered you to the convent where Sam and Ruby were against the wishes of Heaven, I chose you. I pledged my allegiance to an Earthly King over an absent God, and I knew what I was doing when I did,” their steps slow down as Dean takes that in, “All I knew was that… I had faith in you.”

At that, Dean stops moving altogether, his hand slides down from Cas’ shoulder blade to the cinch of his waist, and he allows their joined hands to wilt a bit lower, but he doesn’t let go.

It seems then that Cas is the one having trouble keeping Dean’s gaze.

He looks to some faraway place over Dean’s shoulder, and rasps, “I still do. So, yes, Dean. I will follow you everywhere you lead, for however long you allow me to. I don’t mind flying blind if I’m flying with you.”

“Cas…”

With difficulty, Castiel looks back into Dean’s eyes, and Dean feels his heart thud in his ears. He wonders to himself if Cas can hear it, or feel it, but all Cas does is stare intently back at him, maybe waiting for Dean to confirm or deny something.

“Guys!”

Dean practically jumps away from Cas, frightened as if he’s been caught doing something untoward, but Cas is unbothered.

“I think I found our guy,” Sam announces, none the wiser, “And I think he brought a friend.”

“Yeah,” Dean affirms gruffly, “Got it.”

Sam turns back around first, through the glass doors, back into the busy hall, and Dean starts after him, a hand already twitching toward his holster, sparing Cas a look from over his shoulder.

The Angel is standing there alone, unmistakably ethereal with a backdrop of twinkling stars and lazy fireflies illuminating him; he’s examining his hand as though Dean may have left a mark or a message on him somehow.

“You comin’, Swayze?”

Cas’ eyes snap to attention again, and his forehead wrinkles, “... I don’t understand that reference,” but he follows after Dean anyway.

He doesn’t seem to notice how Dean clenches and unclenches his corresponding hand, but Dean wouldn’t be able to explain it if he did.

[lokis-little-kitten]

Teaching Assistant 3

Title: Teaching Assistant Writer: Lokis-Little-Kitten Pairing: LokixReader Rating: Mid Warning: spankings, mentioning of masturbation, ED, college, teacherxstudent Summary: You get a job as a teaching assistant for you professor Loki Laufeyson. Quickly the relationship takes a turn when Loki offers to teach you the robes of BDSM.

Good girl. 

Those two simple words make your core fire up with need. Never was anyone able to do that with just two little words. 

Loki his hand creeps up until it's in your hair. He pulls making your head fly back so you can look at him. ‘’Rule number two, always say please and thank you.’’ ‘’Yes master,’’ you whisper again. 

‘’Three, always obey master.’’ ‘’I understand.’’ He lets go of you and takes a step back. ‘’Well then, kneel before me.’’ Slowly you get up from your chair not completely sure of what to do. You walk towards him and lower to your knees. 

Loki lowers himself to your level and looks at your attempt. Knees close together and your palms on them. Not bad, but not good either. 

‘’This is what I mean, little one. Part your knees and lay the back of your hands on your knees.’’ You do as he says while staring at the ground. Hopefully, you did well this time. ‘’Better,’’ he mumbles while straightening up. 

Loki walks towards his computer and looks some things up until you suddenly hear the printer again. ‘’You have clearly never heard of a contract in this industry so I guess I will have to teach you that as well.’’ He takes it from the white machine and walks towards a chair. He sits down and asks you to come to him. 

He hands you the few papers. You take a quick look but Loki already takes up the attention. ‘’Sit down and read through it carefully. Everything you don’t accept, cross it out. This will make sure you are safe, understood?’’ ‘’Yes… master.’’ ‘’Good. Go then.’’ 

Quickly you rush to the chair you just sat in and start reading. Most things sound fine- thrilling even- to you but there were one or two things that went too far for your liking so you took a Sharpie and crossed it out as Loki said. When you are done you return it to Loki. 

‘’Good,’’ he mumbles as he looks at what you got rid off. He walks to his desk again and commands you to sit down again. The whole time you just stare at him with large eyes. Loki also crosses some things out and then goes to the final page. He writes his own full name and then yours. A signature is required afterwards. He puts down his and then gives you the pen. 

You put down the simple signature before returning the professor his pen. ‘’Thank you,’’ he sighs putting it away. ‘’This will be binding then. You are my submissive and will do as I say. Understand that if you leak any of this I will go to the dean and make sure you are ruined, understood?’’ ‘’Yes of course,’’ you quickly reply bowing your head. 

‘’Good girl. You can go to your class now. I do expect you after class,’’ he groans putting away the contract in a safe space. ‘’Yes, I will.’’ Loki gives you an expecting look. ‘’Yes who?’’ 

‘’Yes master,’’ you quickly adjust your answer, ‘’I will.’’ ‘’Within these walls I am your master unless I tell you otherwise. Now go!’’ You nod again and rush out of the room. 

Well, that was an experience! 

You rush to your class where you find Dimitri waiting with your coffee. ‘’Oh my God, where have you been,’’ he whispers since the class has already started. ‘’Professor Laufeyson needed me.’’ Dimitri frowns deeply at your answer. 

‘’Why?’’ You bite your lip and look at your desk. ‘’I forgot to disconnect my laptop from his printer so I accidentally printed out a shit load of papers…’’ He chuckles a bit and gives you the latté that must be almost cold now. ‘’Of course, that happens to you. I assume he wasn’t happy about it?’’ You let out a fake laugh. ‘’Not really…’’

The day goes slow and fast at the same time. The classes seem to pass you in a haze but you can’t wait for this day to be over. Second seem like hours at a time but eventually, there it is… The end of the day. 

 You knock on the hard wooden door that leads to Professor Laufeysons office. ‘’Come in,’’ you hear him call. You clutch the papers you started grading for him to your chest as you open the door. You walk in and close the door behind you. 

‘’Lock it, pet,’’ Loki speaks without looking up. You do as he asks and walk to his desk. ‘’I got these for you…’’ You lay the papers down for him and then take a step back for me. ‘’I don’t react without proper adressmend,’’ he mumbles while reading a letter.

You take a deep breath before speaking again. ‘’Master, I have the papers you asked for.’’ You bite your lip while waiting for his answer. ‘’Good girl,’’ he speaks putting away his things. ‘’Come here.’’ He holds out his hand for you with an intense stare. 

With shaking knees you walk around the desk towards him. Gently you lay your hand into his. Loki is swift to pull you closer to in between his knees. ‘’Kneel, little one.’’ Quickly you obey and drop to your knees not taking your eyes off of him. 

‘’I need you to relax around me,’’ he gently speaks while laying his fingers around your chin, ‘’do you trust me?’’ ‘’Yes, master.’’ ‘’Well then, I’ve noticed that you are nervous around me. Why is that, my pet?’’ You take a deep breath before answering. 

‘’I’m scared to do something wrong, master.’’ He runs his other hand through your hair and pulls up his brows. ‘’No need for that. If you do something wrong I’ll let you know and give you time to redo it or adjust. It is, however, a good thing that you want to please me, isn’t it.’’ ‘’Yes master.’’ 

He smiles. 

The first time you ever saw him smile! You give him one in return while staring up at him. He keeps petting your head to relax you and soon it starts to work. ‘’We need to make sure you feel comfortable around me, pet,’’ he mumbles and gets up. 

He walks towards his fireplace and takes the spirit that is placed on top of it. The professor takes a quick sip without offering you. ‘’Come here,’’ he commands again. You bey him once more being quiet. 

Loki closes in on you and lays his hands on your hips. Your breath stops for just a second. He never touched you there before… His hands travel to the seem of your shirt and start to pull it off. ‘’Arms up.’’ When you do he completely pulls the shirt off of you leaving you in your bra. 

His arm snakes around your waist to unclasp your bra. He slowly lets it slide down your arms and your breast. The clothing article is dropped to the floor as well. Loki his hand grazes your collarbone while studying your half-naked body. 

Loki then lowers himself to one knee and starts to open your trousers. You swallow thickly feeling nervous. You only had one or two relationships before of which one included nudity- usually in the dark. 

He pulls the fabric down your legs. Your muscles tense up at the contact as you try to hide yourself a little with your arms. Loki his right-hand slithers around your ankle and lifts your foot. He pulls the last bit of fabric from your legs and straightens up again. You are only wearing pants now and slightly hope to keep those. 

‘’There.’’ He takes your wrist and pulls your hands your body. ‘’Don’t hide, little one, not for master.’’ A wave of excitement goes down your body straight to your core. ‘’Yes, master.’’ He smirks a bit at you and lays his hand on your cheek. ‘’Good girl.’’ He kisses your forehead and then leads you towards the fireplace. ‘’We don’t want you to get cold now, do we.’’ He lets you sit on the warm carpet and even gives you a book to read. 

No blanket or clothes to cover up, however. 

You honestly try to concentrate on reading the book but Loki is just too big a distraction. Add the nervous and excitement of the whole situation and it results in you being a wreck. You put the book away biting your lip unsure of what to do. Should you just ask for something to do?

You suppose so? 

‘’Master,’’ you breathe out. ‘’Yes, pet.’’ ‘’I can’t concentrate…’’ He looks up at you and grins a bit. ‘’What do you suppose I do about that?’’ Tickly you swallow and shrug. ‘’I don’t know… I’m sorry.’’ He stands up and rushes towards you. 

‘’Don’t be. How are you feeling? Comfortable?’’ Shorty you nod. After being naked in front of him for such a long time your barely notice it any more ‘’Yes.’’ ‘’Good girl.’’ He takes your hand and has you stand up. 

He takes his coat and wraps it around your shoulders. ‘’Back to your duties then.’’ He then just has you grade papers and other things. Eventually makes you get dressed again and leave. 

When you get home you sit down on your bed. What just happened? He barely touched you but you feel like you’re on fire. You pull your knees up and then simply lay down… thinking. 

All kinds of things fly your head until your phone buzzes. You take a look and see that it’s a text from professor Laufeyson. Quickly you open it to find a simple question. 

Professor Laufeyson. Have you eaten dinner yet? 

You. No, I haven’t

Professor Laufeyson. No, master. Make sure you do before eight!

You look at the clock. Seven thirty already! You have been home for an hour? You hadn’t even noticed. The professor had occupied your mind so much the time had slipped from you. 

You.

I try my best, master.’’ 

Professor Laufeyson. Don’t try. Do it. I expect a photo before eight.

You jump up and run to your kitchen. When your right in the middle of getting pots and pans your phone buzzes once again. You grab your phone and look. 

Professor Laufeuson. It better be healthy, little one! 

Your eyes widen at his demand. Is he really asking a broke college student to make a healthy meal within half an hour? Is he joking? What is he going to do if you don’t? You scoff and put all of your stuff away again. 

You eat breakfast, you promise yourself and then go to watch a movie again. It is too late in the evening to still cook or eat! At precisely eight your damned mobile phone buzzes again.

Professor Laufeyson. Times up. What are you eating?

You don’t react. You’ll just say your phone died or something. He can’t force you to eat! 

Professor Laufeyson Pet?

Answer me!

You’ll pay for it if you don’t obey!

That’s it, chances are up.

The messages flood in every few minutes until you turn your phone off. Geez, this guy is intense… Something about it gives a pleasant tingle deep in your chest but your head tells you to ignore it. So you do. 

The next day you turn your phone back on and see that Loki send you some more angry messages. You ignore it again but start to feel a little nervous about seeing him this afternoon. 

You go to your classes and slightly hind behind your large best friend when walking in. He frowns deeply when he notices. ‘’You okay,’’ Dimitri asks heaving his bag a little more onto his shoulder. ‘’Yeah, fine.’’ 

‘’Is the professor getting too much for you already,’’ he chuckles after passing the stern man. You did notice his angry glare at you but then again, his face is always angry… ‘’I might have pissed him off a little. I didn’t finish some work even though I had the whole weekend.’’ He laughs loudly at you. ‘’I’m sorry, babe,’’ he screeches when he arrives at your seats in the back. 

‘’It isn’t funny! He’s going to kill me after class.’’ You lean against his arm and bury your face in his sleeve. ‘’What are you doing this afternoon,’’ you ask, ‘’wanna meet up?’’ ‘’Oh no,’’ he calls out with a smirk, ‘’you are not using me to escape his wrath! Even if I wanted to do that, I have football practice.’’ You groan and cuddle up close with him. He wraps his arm around you and gives you a smile. 

You love Dimitri. He is your best friend of four years now and if anyone saw you that didn't know you they would swear you’re a couple. You’re not, however, just very close and touchy. Probably because the both of you have been touch starved all your life and now try to make up for that. 

‘’Just remember that he isn’t allowed to touch you, okay?’’ ‘’Yeah.’’ Yeah… No. 

‘’Miss Y/L/N,’’ Professor Laufeyson then suddenly calls out. ‘’Would you like to join me on the first row, please? Maybe you can pay attention to me then instead of your boyfriend.’’ Your eyes widen when he asks that. Oh no…

You sit up and look at the front row that is- as usual- empty. You grab your bag onto your shoulder and walk up to the front row at- of course- the middle seat. You quickly obey before you get into even more trouble. ‘’He’s not my boyfriend,’’ you mumble while sitting down. ‘’I certainly don’t hope so,’’ Loki whispers back and then finally starts his class. 

At some point, you manage to get your phone out and in front of your book so you hope Loki won’t see it.

You. Help me! He stares at me the whole time!

Dimitri. You really pissed him off, didn’t you? Sorry that I can’t help you. Maybe he’ll go easy on you from now on?

The moment you want to start typing again a large hand grabs your phone. ‘’Miss Y/L/N, can I conduct from this that my classes are so boring your last option is a mobile phone? No note making or reading can keep you suited?’’ You bite your lip again and quickly apologize. ‘’You get this one back when you go home.’’ He puts it in his back pocket and then continues his lesson. 

You’re so screwed… 

[mymoonagedaydream]

Home (Part 1)

Summary: Two years ago, you’d left behind your hometown and the love of your life to pursue your dream career, but returning for Christmas really made you start to second-guess that decision.

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: A Christmassy one for ya’ll! This story is inspired by the requests above from @shawnie--jo, thank you for those and for the inspo! I couldn’t fit everything into a oneshot, so this may end up being three or four parts.

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You stuffed your bag into the overhead locker and collapsed into your seat, completely exhausted.

Some chaos was to be expected when travelling so close to Christmas, but still, you really could've done without the three hour check-in queues and the chorus of screaming babies.

Leaning back in your chair and pulling on your headphones, you squeezed your eyes shut and just tried to think about all the things that would make this journey worth it, all the things you’d missed about Christmas with your parents.

The excitement on their faces as they greet you at the airport, your mother’s incredible home-cooking, your father’s insistence on playing charades three or more times a day. It was your first time visiting home since moving away two years ago, and you wanted the whole cosy, corny nine yards.

There was just one teensy little caveat to your relaxing family holiday- two years away from home meant two years since you'd seen Bucky.

You were childhood sweethearts, head over heels in love with each other for as long as you could remember and best friends for even longer. When you were offered a job across the country, you wanted so much for him to move with you, but he’d already promised his father that he’d take over the family car-repair business. 

It was the most difficult decision of your life, but eventually the two of you agreed there was no choice but to separate. 

Being away from him tore you apart for the first few months, but now you'd finally gotten back on your feet, and you were ready to come face to face with your past again.

Or so you thought.

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Your parents pulled you into a tight bear-hug as soon as you walked through arrivals, taking your bags, talking your ear off and quickly ushering you to the car.

Amongst all the excited babbling, you just about managed to discern that they’d planned a welcome home party for you that night with half the neighbourhood, an announcement which triggered a mix of dread and excitement to begin churning in your stomach.

You were looking forward to seeing your oldest friend again, you just hoped to god that things wouldn’t be weird or awkward between the two of you.

After a short drive, the car pulled up outside your childhood home. Just seeing it from the outside made you feel all warm and cosy but, as soon as you glanced through the door, those feelings were amplified off the charts. 

The place looked incredible. Your mother had obviously put so much effort into making it look cosy and festive, you even felt yourself tearing up a little when you stepped inside. It was so elaborate, you had half a mind to interrogate her about a possible Christmas with the Kranks scenario going down prior to your arrival, but you decided it was probably best to just keep your mouth shut.

After you’d looked around properly and unpacked, it was only a matter of hours before the first guests started arriving.

You downed two beers to loosen yourself up a little. Each time the bell went, your eyes snapped towards the door, the sound making your heart leap out of your chest. It felt like you were waiting to find out whether that hard mass in the bottom of your stocking was a big-ass diamond or a lump of coal. 

When Bucky finally appeared in the doorway, your jaw almost hit the shag carpet. The last two years had been unreasonably good to him, he looked like James Dean but somehow even more buff. 

The boy you'd left behind had become a man in your absence and sweet Jesus it was really making you feel some kind of way. 

His eyes were frantically scanning the room but he hadn't spotted you yet, so you took the opportunity to sneak up behind him and tap him on the shoulder.

‘Hey, stranger.’

He swivelled round, his eyes lighting up when they met yours. Before he said a word, you were pulled into a tight hug, audibly gasping when you were lifted clean off the ground.

‘Where the hell you been, Lilypad?’

You burst out laughing, remembering falling into a pond on your seventh birthday and him never, ever letting you live down. A wave of happy memories flooded your mind, making you smile widely as he set you down.

‘Still the same old Yucky.’

‘Hey, we agreed you wouldn't call me that anymore.’

‘I'll stop calling you Yucky when you stop calling me Lilypad.’

The corners of his mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. ‘Never.’

And just like that, it felt as though you'd never left.

You were excited to be with your old friend again, you were happy that there seemed to be no awkwardness between the two of you, and you were really doing your very best to suppress all the other intense feelings that had surfaced as soon as he’d walked through the door.

‘Come on, I'll get you a drink.’ You grabbed his arm and dragged him through to the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge while he leant against the counter next to you. ‘Are you still working for your dad?’

‘Yep. He's hoping to retire in the next few years, so I'll finally be taking over.’

‘That's so great, you're pretty much set for life with that place.’

He nodded faintly, burying his hands in his pockets and flicking his gaze down to the floor. ‘So how, uh- how long are you back for?’

‘I'm flying back early on the 31st.’

‘You’re not even staying for New Year?’ The hint of disappointment in his voice made you immediately stop what you were doing and look over to him, his face going a little red as he shifted around awkwardly. ‘Ah, I bet you got loads of invites to big, crazy city parties.’

‘If you call staring at a computer screen until 3am and slowly spiralling into madness a party.’

You passed him a beer, his eyes staying fixed on the bottle as he mumbled. ‘All the work will be worth it one day though, right?’

‘I hope so.’

Your eyes locked, a heavy silence falling between you. This was exactly the kind of uncomfortable atmosphere you were dreading.

Panicking a little, you vaguely gestured towards the living room. ‘I should probably, y’know, mingle.’

‘Sure. I'll find you later though Lilypad, we gotta catch up some more.’

You gave him a warm smile and nodded, turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

The next couple of hours seemed to blur together. You made meaningless small-talk with people you barely knew, all the time just thinking about Bucky, about how quickly things had gone from fun and light-hearted to incredibly tense.

You just hoped you could get things back on a good track before you had to leave, losing him completely was the very last thing you wanted.  

Shuffling into the kitchen to grab yourself another drink, you noticed him duck out the back door. He must've hit his socialisation limit. The two of you used to reach that point around the same time at parties, so you'd slink out together and share a cheap cigarette.

Abandoning your freshly opened beer on the counter, you followed him out, finding him tucked away around the side of the house.

‘Right on time.’

His head snapped towards you, the cigarette almost falling from his mouth as he shot you a wide smile. ‘Am I that predictable?’

‘I just know you too well.’

You leant against the wall next to him, hugging your arms tight as you felt yourself start to shiver, cause you were the kind of idiot that went outside in December wearing short-sleeves. Bucky noticed straight away, letting out a gruff chuckle as he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and wrapped it round you.

‘That cushy city life has made you soft.’ He rubbed your arms a little, trying to warm you up, before eventually bringing his hands to rest on your shoulders and fixing his gaze to yours. ‘I'm really glad you're here, Lilypad. I've missed you.’

‘I've missed you too, Buck. I've missed a lot of things about this place.’

‘So why don’t you stay longer?’

‘Believe me, I was lucky to get this much time off.’

His eyes narrowed slightly, a concerned frown spreading over his face as he folded his arms across his chest. ‘Is everything alright? I haven't heard much about this job but so far it's pretty much been all negative.’

‘Oh, I do love it, honestly I-’

‘Why would you even try lying to me? You know I can always tell.’

You couldn’t help cracking a slight smile at his smug expression. He was right, the last time you’d managed to successfully lie to him was in first grade when you told him you didn’t know where his crayon sharpener had gone, knowing full well it was stashed in your pocket.

‘It's just a lot.’ You rubbed your forehead exasperatedly. ‘Apart from the few hours of sleep I get each night, I'm pretty much constantly working. You asked earlier if it was worth it and, to be honest, I really don’t know.’

He nodded faintly, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his foot, before opening his arms towards you.

‘C'mere.’

You didn't hesitate. Launching yourself towards him, you let him enclose you, squeezing your eyes shut and wrapping your arms around his neck.

‘You'll figure it out.’ He mumbled into your neck. ‘You always do.’

‘Thank you, Buck.’

After a minute or so, you both pulled away slightly, stopping when you came face to face. A lot of things about home had slipped your mind whilst you’d been away, but you’d never forgotten how gazing into Bucky’s piercing blue eyes made you feel. 

That feeling had never changed, and you were sure it never would.

You dropped your hands to rest on his shoulders, your eyebrows shooting up when you noticed how rock-hard they were. ‘Jesus, Buck. I’ve only been gone for two years, have you been at the gym that whole time?’

‘Nope, just been working hard at the garage.’ What absolute bullshit. ‘But feel free to keep the compliments coming.’

You smirked and feebly shoved him away, turning to head back inside but stopping suddenly before taking a step. ‘Oh, you better pick that cigarette butt up or my mom will go ape shit.’

‘Good call.’

You slipped through the back door, passing his jacket back when he followed you in. The two of you couldn’t have been out there for more than a few minutes, but it seemed as though the crowd inside had really started thinning out.

Bucky’s parents strolled over when they spotted him, informing him of their intent to leave pretty soon too, so he gave you a long hug goodbye and made you promise that you'd see each other again before the end of the holidays.

The two of you had parted on a good note, which was all you’d wanted going into the party, but now you found that you were pretty keen to squeeze as many more good notes out of these next few days as you could. 

It was probably best not to delve too deeply into the feelings behind that sentiment. So you didn’t. 

You helped your parents tidy up, your eyelids drooping as the exhaustion from a long day of travelling and socialising finally set in. Just as you were about to head upstairs, your mother piped up, using her expertly crafted trying to appear casual despite being really very invested in what I’m asking tone.

‘It must've been nice seeing Bucky again.’

‘Oh yeah, definitely.’

‘He must've changed quite a bit since you were here last.’

You chuckled to yourself. ‘Physically, yeah, but he's still the same goofy dumbass he's always been.’

‘It's always a treat when he pops round, he's such a nice boy.’ A suspicious eyebrow crept up your forehead. ‘And he's still single y'know, he hasn't-’

‘Alright. That's my cue to go to bed.’

Your dad strolled over and gave you a firm pat on the back. ‘Good idea, sweetheart. Get out while you still can.’

‘Thank you. It's nice having one sane parent.’

‘Although, I do have to say, he has been very good to us since-’

‘Dad!’ He raised his arms in surrender, using one hand to zip up his mouth. ‘Lord help me. Goodnight, crazies.’

You quickly escaped up the stairs. Stumbling into your room and pulling on your pyjamas, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in the pillows and letting out a long, exhausted sign.

As you drifted off to sleep, all the stress of the day melted away, leaving a single thought to echo around your mind.

You’d really overestimated how over Bucky you were.

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Part 2

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