#fuckboy dean

[overactiveprefrontalcortex]

dean looks at you like this after you tell him you wanna fuck

[jellybracelet]

b&w dean: wendigo 

[blacknidstang]

It's been a long day, pass the weecest

[poognthebrainbois]

SHUT THE FUCK UP

Everyone talks about how Jackles absolutely bodied Dean but no one talks about when he was

Michael

I am ill.

[19catsncounting]

I can't find any reason why Bela Talbot couldn't have been the righteous man who breaks in Hell to set off the apocalypse so you know what that's how Jessifer might speedrun the first four seasons.

Bela Talbot sold her soul to kill a child predator. Bela was a child whose first act of autonomy was saving and condemning a child - herself. Bela steals, lies, probably kills - none of these are disqualifiers for the title of righteousness. Bela does bad things to bad people, she puts herself in a very dangerous underbelly where she has nothing but her wits, charm, and a few goodies she's scrounged up. And she put herself there. She doesn't have to live in a world full of monsters, but that's where she believes she belongs. That's where she tries to save herself. She has more agency and autonomy and more of a space to define herself as righteous than Dean can when a year out from John's death, he is still living in his shadow.

And the tragedy of the righteous breaking under the weight of the rack is how undeserved it is. How the world should have stopped to fight against it. And Bela Talbot Didn't Fucking Deserve It.

[missmisdemeanor]

the most embarrassing thing about dean being such a fuckboy is that it would work on me

[jellybracelet]

Check it out.

[solarsturniolo]

ÈVÈR¥WHÈRÈ Ì GÖ // Ç.§. // Ìñ†RÖ

Ð̧ÇLÄÌMÈR: I highly recommend you listen to the song I put at the end of this while reading this story.

§ÚMMÄR¥: President of the Beta Theta Pi fraternity house, where their mission statement is 'Developing men of principle for a principled life', Christopher Sturniolo only has three goals in mind: Throwing the best parties on campus, passing his classes just enough to fly under the Dean's radar, and getting him and his fraternity brothers laid. Three fairly simple goals that he typically has no issue fulfilling. That is, until she shows up to his party one night.

WÄRñÌñG§: Fratboy!Chris / Manipulative!Chris / Fuckboy!Chris / Posessive!Chris / Fem!Reader / Cursing / Pure filth / Smutttt / Unprotected sex / Drug use / Oral (m receiving) / Oral (fem recieving) / Handjobs / P in v / Petnames / PDA / Titty-fucking / Dumbification kink / Spanking / Lots of dirty talk Suggestive cheating trope / Creampie / Facial / Mentions of exploitation / Breeding kink / Mentions of threesomes / Blackmail / Like I said, this story is pure filth.

©Solarsturniolo 2024

Whêñ Ì §†år† Ðrïñkïñg, m¥ Ðï¢k Ððê§ åll m¥ †hïñkïñg Hðê§ wåñ† †ð ßê §êêñ wï†h mê åñÐ Ì lïkê †hêïr ßïg, fåkê †ï††ïê§ Ð ¢µþ§ wï†h êx†rå fïllïñg, †åkê ï† ðµ†, lê† mê lï¢k ï† qµï¢kl¥ Çålm Ððwñ, ï†'§ jµ§† å hï¢kê¥, Ì'll ßlåmê ï† ðñ †hï§ whï§kê¥ §ïþþïñg Gꆧ mê †ïþ§¥, Ðrïñk f姆 åñÐ êñj𥠥ðµr ßµzz †åkê ßå¢k §†rêꆧ †ð åvðïÐ †hê fµzz Ì wåññå †åkê ¥ðµ hðmê ßµ† ¥ðµr frïêñЧ wðñ'† lê† ¥ðµ Ì gð† å 40 ïñ m¥ fðrÐ fï꧆å ßµ¥ ßêêr ðr þå¥ †hê rêñ†? M¥ §ïgñïñg ßðñµ§ wå§ qµï¢kl¥ §þêñ† §ð Ì'll ßêå† m¥ mêå† lïkê Ì'm å fµ¢kïñg ßµ†¢hêr ÄñÐ Ì'll þµñk †hê þµ§§¥ lïkê Ì'm ħh†ðñ Kµ†¢hêr

Lê†'§ gê† †hï§ þår†¥ §†år†êÐ Lê†'§ kêêþ †hêm 40'§ þðþþïñg §ð jµ§† gê† ßµzzêÐ åñÐ §†å¥ fµ¢kêÐ µþ Wê'll kêêþ †hêm þåñ†ïê§ Ðrðþþïñg

Everywhere I Go - Hollywood Undead

September 15, 2024

There was a time when I cared about my education; Hell, it’s how I landed a scholarship for one of the best colleges in Massachusetts. But why would I bother caring about physics and calculus? Being head of a major fraternity house is a full time job within itself, I don’t have time to study and blaze through my classes. These parties aren’t going to plan themselves, and these sorority chicks surely aren’t going to fuck themselves. Someone’s gotta take one for the team, and if it’s gotta be me, so be it.

Not that I’m complaining.

Would be nice if Lars would text me back. These coke whores are bleeding me dry, can’t get the shit fast enough to keep up with the demand. Guess I could start some iou’s. Or my fucking dealer could pick up his god damn phone.

What the fuck even is this? You’re really gonna read all this? Didn’t think you’d be into that shit, but who am I to kink shame? Enjoy the fucking story, I know I will.

ÄÚ†HÖR'§ ñÖ†È: Once again, HIGHLY recommend that you listen to that song while reading this story.

†ÄG§: @flowerxbunnie @megamett44-lover @xtravrgnoliveoil @mattsturnswife @mbbsgf @meerkatzthings @soursturniolo @oversturn @sturnioz @luverboychris @soupuurr @gemofthenight @sturnsforlife @hi-7-hi @blahbel668 @mattspleasure @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @sturniolosreads @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chriss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @querenciasturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @m4ttslvr @mqttittude @bewtyschooldropout @lovelybrokenheal @h3arts4harry @riowritesitall

[overactiveprefrontalcortex]

i have such a thing for s1!dean you guys dont get it

made by @ghostgirluna 🫶

[roosterforme]

The University of Sugar | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You take Bradley to a work happy hour, but nothing about it makes him happy, since your boss is clearly flirting with you. Was that man blind? Could he not see your engagement ring? Bradley was ready to fuck some sense into you. And you were so willing to let him.

Warnings: Fluff, swears and smut

Length: 2700 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time! This was written for a request. Banner by @mak-32

Check my profile for my masterlist

Bradley was exhausted. He'd had such a long week, stayed on base late almost every day. He was ready to get undressed, take you to bed, and pass out for at least twelve hours. But when he unlocked his front door and walked into the living room, you were standing there in a cute little dress, all made up. Maybe he could squeeze in a quickie before he passed out. 

"You look like you're ready for me to take you to bed," he said with a smirk as he started to untie his boots. But then he remembered something that you had said... about... a happy hour? Fuck.

"You need to get changed. I don't want to be late," you told him, checking the time on your phone while he groaned. Now he remembered. He promised you weeks ago that he'd go to the happy hour with your coworkers from the math department at San Diego State University. But right now, he was dying to get in bed and stay there.

"Sugar," he whined, "Baby, I'm exhausted. Can't we just stay home?"

"No!" Now you didn't look pleased at all as he made his way closer to you. "Go get changed, Beer Boy."

He wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you snug against him. "Come on, Baby," he crooned. "Doesn't our bed sound better than happy hour? I promise I'll make you cum. Twice."

You kissed him and smirked devilishly. "I'll hold you to that. After we get back from happy hour."

"Fuck," he groaned releasing you and heading to the bedroom to get changed. There was no way he was getting out of this one. He was going to have to chat with your coworkers all night. A bunch of boring math nerds. Because there was no way there was more than one hot, interesting math nerd at your school. You were an anomaly. You'd cornered that market. 

Plus, Bradley just knew he was going to feel like an idiot all night. You were smarter than anyone he knew, and it would be like a bunch of clones of you walking around sounding extremely intelligent. He didn't even know what he was going to talk about. 

"Ready?" you asked with a smile when he reemerged from the bedroom. You took him by the hand and led him out to the driveway. "I can't wait for you to meet everyone."

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

It was worse than Bradley thought it would be. Apparently the median age of college math professors was eighty. He held tight to his bottle of beer while you introduced him to way too many people whose names he would never remember. He tried to smile, but he had to stifle a few yawns while he followed you around the small auditorium on your campus.

Everyone knew you. Everyone liked you. Everyone wanted to talk to you. Which was all fine and dandy until Bradley got cornered in conversation with Professor Rosenthal while an extremely handsome man walked up to you and gave you a lingering hug. 

"Who the hell is that?" Bradley asked, completely cutting off Professor Rosenthal.

"Oh," he sputtered, turning to see where Bradley was looking. "Oh, that's Professor Philip Harding. The department dean." 

Bradley's brain was buzzing now as he watched Professor Philip Harding put his hand on your lower back while you laughed. You had mentioned him before. Many times. You told Bradley that you frequently ate lunch with Phil on the benches outside your building next to the rose garden. Bradley was the one who lovingly packed those lunches for you.

He watched as you slowly took a step out of Phil's reach. "That's a good girl, Sugar," he muttered, now completely ignoring Professor Rosenthal. 

But Phil closed the gap and was already next to you again. Was this guy blind? Or just stupid? Did he not see the engagement ring on your finger? Could he not comprehend that you were in a relationship?

"Fuck," Bradley growled, glaring at him as he set his empty bottle down and tore across the room. Phil was tall, dark and handsome, and Bradley knew you liked that kind of thing. Plus, if he was the department dean, he was probably as smart as you were. 

Jealousy pulsed beneath his skin as he came up behind you and wrapped his hand around your perfect hip. "Hey, Sugar," he rasped, leaning down to kiss your neck. He loved the way you melted into his touch, but Bradley kept his eyes on Phil who cleared his throat loudly. 

"Hello," Phil said, looking at Bradley with a thoroughly unimpressed expression. But he could just fuck right off, because Bradley wasn't impressed either. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Dr. Philip Harding."

You smiled up at Bradley. "Phil is the department dean. And his office is next to mine." Then you turned to Phil, and Bradley had to watch his gaze dip down to your chest as you said, "Phil, this is Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw."

"Her fiancé" Bradley added, rather too loudly. 

Phil just smirked at him. "Ah, yes. I believe I've heard mention of you before. You work on submarines or something?"

Bradley clenched and unclenched his fist. "I'm an aviator," be ground out. "A pilot. I fly an F/A-18."

"Right," Phil replied cooly before turning back to you and asking you a question about your calculus lecture. And then Bradley had to stand there and listen to you laugh while he felt like a complete idiot. 

After a few moments of listening to Phil's annoying voice, Bradley pulled you a little closer and said, "Please excuse us," effectively cutting off the conversation and luring you back toward the refreshment table.

"What's wrong?" you asked. "You're acting so weird."

Bradley's eyes bugged out. "I'm acting so weird? Sugar, what the fuck, Baby? That guy is flirting with you right in front of me."

"No, he's not," you replied with an eye roll. "He's always like that."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he growled. "Because it does not. In fact it makes me feel worse."

"He's harmless, Beer Boy. I eat lunch with him all the time."

Bradley managed to speak through clenched teeth. "The way you described him, I pictured a geriatric nerd with a receding hairline and fucking dentures!"

You burst into laughter, planting your hand on his chest as you cackled and gasped for hair. 

"He's not old at all!" Bradley complained.

"No," you said, trying to reel in your laughter. "I think he's forty."

"He's handsome!"

"So are you." Your hand slid up to the back of Bradley's neck as you grinned at him.

"He wants to fuck you!" 

"So do you," you replied calmly. "You're jealous."

Bradley took a few deep breaths. He would never, ever admit to that out loud. "He touched you," Bradley growled. He didn't even care if he was causing a scene right now. You were going to be his wife, and he would be damned if Phil didn't leave here tonight knowing damn well where he ranked with you. 

"I told him to stop," you said sincerely. "I don't think he'll do it again."

"He better fucking not."

You leaned up and kissed Bradley's chin. "I can't believe you're jealous of him. You have no reason to be." You searched his face and sighed, that needy little sound you made when you were ready to go. "I love you. And you look so hot right now."

Bradley's cock twitched for you, and he pulled you snug up against him so you could feel that he was hard. You moaned softly, and Bradley glanced over to see that Phil was looking this way. 

"Let's go fuck in your office," Bradley told you, possibly loud enough for someone to hear. And then he kissed you hard, slipping his tongue into your mouth until you were pulling him toward the door. 

"I don't know what's gotten into you tonight," you whispered, ducking your head as you led him out into the hallway. "But I'm not mad about it." 

Bradley followed you down the hall to your office as you clicked along in your high heels. He was very familiar with this room, and when you unlocked the door, he pushed you inside but not before he noticed Phil was also in the hallway. 

Bradley winked at the other man before he slammed the door shut behind him. You had a smug, needy look on your face as the fluorescent lights started to warm up and brighten the small room. 

"You're mine, Sugar," he stated simply, caging you in against your desk. "And next time you eat lunch with Phil, I want you to think about this," he whispered, reaching down so his hand was underneath your dress, grabbing the back of your thigh and making you break out in goosebumps. "And this." 

You moaned softly as he gently pressed his lips to yours in the sweetest kiss. "Bradley," you whined as his hand slid up to the front of your underwear. "I thought you were exhausted from work."

"I got my second wind," he promised, leading his gentle kisses along your jaw and to your ear. "Now pull your underwear down, bend over, and tell me how hard you want it."

The strangled noise you made had him laughing before he sucked on your neck. But sure enough, you started yanking down your own underwear, and then you turned your back to him. 

You looked up at him over your shoulder, smiling sweetly as you said, "Hard."

Bradley was working on his own button and zipper as quickly as he could. "That's my sweet Sugar," he crooned, and you bent over your desk, moaning his name. He carefully pulled your dress up so your ass was beautifully on display for him. His cock was gliding through your wet pussy as he gently kicked your legs a little further apart. 

You wobbled a bit on your high heels as Bradley ran his big palm along your ass, cupping and squeezing you. "Bradley," you gasped, wiggling yourself back against his hand. 

"You want it hard, Sugar? First, you need to promise me that if that asshole Philip Harding ever touches you again, you tell me immediately." Bradley knew his tone was a little rough, and when you met his eyes over your shoulder, you nodded. 

"Okay." Your voice was soft, just like your skin beneath his palm. Bradley squeezed you before spanking you one time. "Bradley!" you screeched, biting your lip and moaning. 

"Promise me," he demanded. "He never touches your lower back or any other part of your body ever again." His fingers skimmed up along that exact spot on your back.

"I promise!" you groaned, still pressing back against him. Bradley thrust into you, hoping like hell that Phil was still out in the hallway. He wouldn't mind one bit if the department dean heard everything he was doing to you. And if your current volume was any indication, then perhaps everyone else in the small auditorium would be able to hear you, too. 

"You wanted it hard," he grunted, absolutely slamming into you. "You're mine. Gonna be my wife."

"Yes!" you screeched, grabbing along the top of your desk, trying to hang on as he fucked you. Bradley ran his hand along the spot where he spanked you feeling the warmth there. 

"You're smart, Sugar," he praised, slipping his hand around to your clit and bending so his front was pressed to your back. "Now tell me who you belong to."

"You!" Your voice sounded a little hoarse, and he could hear it quiver as his fingertips spanked your clit. 

He growled next to your ear as he alternated between tapping and rubbing. "Say my name."

"Bradley!" 

"Good girl," he praised, pinching your clit until you screamed. And then he spanked your pussy through your orgasm, tapping just hard enough that your legs started shaking. 

"Fuck," you groaned, the single syllable loud and drawn out as Bradley took you by both hips and fucked you so hard, you were whimpering. 

"Mmm," he hummed, palming your ass. "I'd love to cum all over your pretty face right now, but you'll get that when we get home. I'll spread it all around. Mess up your makeup and let you lick my fingers clean."

"Bradley, please?" you begged, but he spanked your ass and shook his head, fucking your harder as he got close. "On my face!"

"No. You insisted we come to happy hour, and it's already going to be obvious what we did without my cum all over you, Professor Sugar."

"I love it when you call me that," you crooned, clearly enjoying this entire interlude. "Now fuck me until you come."

It didn't take long after that. He came inside your tight pussy, painting it up and chanting your name. His hands were tight on your hips, and as soon as he withdrew, Bradley knelt down behind you. He kissed along your ass and your thighs as you tried to stand upright on your unsteady legs. 

"Easy," he crooned, watching his cum drip out of you as he eased your cute underwear back up your legs. You spun to face him as he pulled your dress down. Your hair and makeup were a mess, your lips were a little puffy, and you couldn't stand up straight. You looked down at him, still kneeling before you. "I love you," he promised as you let your hands rest on his shoulders. 

"I know, Beer Boy," you whispered, voice hoarse from screaming. "I love you, too. And I love when we fuck in my office or the study rooms on campus. It's kind of our thing."

Bradley stood and kissed you softly. "Academia really suits me. I went to the University of Sugar."

You bit your lip and giggled as he led you toward the door. He took your left hand in his and spun your pretty engagement around on your finger as you made your way back to the happy hour. When Phil exited the men's bathroom a few doors down from your office and wouldn't make eye contact, Bradley smirked. 

"You were loud as hell," Bradley informed you just before rejoining the group. "And you look so fucking dissheveled, I can't wait to bust a nut on your face later."

"Beer Boy!" you gasped, following him with wide eyes as Bradley made his way back to Professor Rosenthal with a fresh drink. He had accomplished what he set out to do, and now Phil would think twice before he touched you again.

"So sorry we got interrupted before," Bradley said to the older man. "What were we talking about?" Then he listened to Professor Rosenthal talk about the politics of the math department, his upcoming retirement and his hip replacement. And all the while, you kept eyeing Bradley with a very satisfied look on your face. 

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

"Okay, Beer Boy," you muttered to yourself, sitting on a bench in the rose garden next to your building on campus. You were unpacking the lunch Bradley had made for you, which included a note with huge handwriting.

Sugar, Can't wait to get my hands all over you later. Love, Beer Boy

You snorted and tucked the note into your pocket. This is what he did now. Every day since he met Phil, Bradley wrote you a dirty lunchbox note. The first note last week had been about how Bradley wanted to fuck you in the Bronco when he picked you up from campus. And sure enough, he had done just that, in the parking lot behind the student union building. 

Of course Bradley knew what he was doing, because Phil had accidentally seen that note. And he hadn't eaten lunch with you since then. But now you were waiting for your new lunch pal, Professor Rosenthal.

"You win, Beer Boy," you whispered, texting him a photo of the note along with a little message from you.

I want your lips and tongue, too. 

You smirked and ate the lunch he packed you, excited to get home later. Excited to marry Bradley. Excited for everything. 

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

Love checking in with Beer Boy and Sugar from time to time! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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[buckevantommy]

https://www.tumblr.com/buckevantommy/757878657756872704/btw-i-dont-think-we-need-to-worry-about-buck-and

Agree 100%. But, to further expand that, and going outside the world of the show.

From a GA perspective, or the audience full stop, how many partners are we willing to watch before we lose interest? By this I mean - if the writers are spending screen time / several episodes introducing a new character and a new relationship, usually we get invested. And when that person disappears, it can be frustrating, and the introduction of a new person (thus the start of the cycle again), can feel a bit tiring. Every time they need to find something that makes the audience go: okay, it’s worth for me to care about this character.

Buck’s case is a bit particular, because his relationships haven’t been all that well received (until now). Either it was an ‘okay’ situation, without much interest, or an okay reception but controversial at times (for me, Taylor - I do think the GA was okay with her, but ultimately the couple was not good). Tommy has been imo the first relationship that truly has brought in lots of positive and good reviews and a good investment of attention from fans and even GA. Tommy’s clips in any social media are usually the ones with most views, and in things like IG it goes to talk about the GA more than a focused fandom.

This to say - if Buck was to break up with Tommy, I think a lot of the audience would be frustrated or even grow bored of the constant change of partners. Even, they would be less receptive to a future new partner, because if Tommy (so well received) is gone, who would even stay?

Not to say this means Tommy is Buck’s endgame, because no one knows. But at some point the constant change of partners gets old, and we know Tim agrees when he expressed wanting to get Buck off the hamster wheel (something Oliver agreed on), and Tommy is a really strong character to have Buck settle with.

Long story short: not only from a SL perspective, but Bucktommy being long lasting makes sense for the overall image of the show.

You're absolutely right nonny.

bc if we think about bucktommy in terms of it being Buck's relationship aka. a main character's relationship, enough is enough on dragging him from illfit to illfit - that guy deserves to be settled, at ease in himself, as Bobby once told him, and we've already seen Tommy help make that happen for him.

and if we look back at Buck's relationship history: we're 7 years into poor matches for a guy who has always wanted to love and be loved - and Tommy can be that for him! he has been that for him so far and could so easily fit into the narrative as Buck's significant other moving forward indefinitely. Tommy already feels like the missing piece to Buck's story the same way Karen was for Hen and Maddie was for Chim and Athena was for Bobby - and he's a fleshed out character in his own right just as those partners are.

enough screwing around with Buck's relationships. sometimes it feels like just bc he started out as a fuckboy he somehow doesn't deserve a stable, healthy, loving relationship, like the narrative is going out of its way to ruin any chance he has at that for the sake of drama (but again: none of his previous partners were the right match for him).

i'm going to mention dear dean winchester again bc he has so much in common with Buck, and these kinds of characters (male, strong, macho, attractive, swagger, charming, sexually active, presumably bisexual) always cycle through relationships that never pan out - bc they're not the right fit, but moreover bc these partners seem written in just to be eventually written out, there to help the main character's plot along, aid in some personal growth and add drama, maybe attract more viewership for those interested in seeing more (temporary) female characters.

but it is.. *sigh* tiresome, indeed. let Buck have a stable partner - like Hen, and Chim, and Bobby do - and let their relationship be woven into the narrative to create a richer tapestry like those other pairings do. that is so much more satisfying in terms of storytelling and character growth, than trying to insert drama snags that threaten to unravel things. you can still have drama with committed pairings - every other committed pairing in the show is proof of that.

and if we take off the shipper googles: Tommy is good as Buck's partner, he makes sense, and he has great potential in the longrun both as Buck's boyfriend/husband and as his own character within the wider narrative of the show. he's a natural fit, but he's also entertaining and he has history with most of the main characters already.

i really do see Tommy as Buck's endgame btw, bc they work so well together as a pairing but also as independant characters. BUT i wouldn't be mad about them breaking up/taking a break (as i mentioned in that post: uncertainty about having kids; a potential permanent job position out of state) and then come back together stronger for it. we saw it happen with Henren (but i don't want to see cheating with our boys bc it doesn't fit who they are) so we know if they do breakup it doesn't have to be permanent - and i actually would love the mirror to Buck's first serious relationship where Abby leaves him - only Tommy comes back to him.

[shinelikethunder]

the Impala has an automatic transmission, but can Dean drive a manual if he has to?

propaganda i came up with on the spot

yes: John might well have considered it an essential life skill, esp given how habitually they steal cars

no: ok hear me out..., this would literally be sooooo fucking funny

(secret third thing: there may be an objective answer here, i don't remember if one of their temporary rides was a manual and spn wiki's vehicle articles don't specify, so someone could potentially come along and drop a definitive answer in the notes idk. but until then i'm just sitting here pitting "i mean, realistically..." against the possibility of an exquisite dunk on my favorite fuckboy loser)

[mintwithchoco]

mint's monday muse #12

greetings fellow livings, your favorite plant is back with the first installment of mint's monday muse of 2025 :D

update-ish; haven't been writing a lot, but i'm confident that i can release at least ONE fic this month. but if i don't, then uhh strike me with lightning until i dissipate into a million pieces-

DRINK SMOKE DRINK SMOKE DRINK SMOKE POUR UP 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

this song instantly makes you feel like you're some fuckboy that gets all the ladies in one night. dean's vocals are no joke, and zico's rap are straight bars. so if you wanna get laid, just put on this song and you'll get +9999 rizz no cap trust

have a floofy woofy yubin!

[lomlhwa]

you're so sweet (p.sh)

pairing: highly experienced!sunghoon x virgin!reader

preview: you've been dating sunghoon for almost a year. he decides that for your one year, he wants to give you the best first time you could possibly ask for.

warnings/tags: fem reader, slight corruption kink on sunghoon's part, lots of pet names (baby, my love, pretty girl), taking of reader's virginity, sunghoon the king of consent, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), implied big dick!sunghoon, creampie

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 2.8k

song recs for this fic: reason by kai, bambi by baekhyun, prism by the boyz (heavy on this one), love by dean

a/n: i've never written smut before so i hope this goes okay lmfao.

“soooo” sunghoon says as he walks into the living room of your shared apartment. he plops down on the couch across from you. “tomorrow’s our one year.” you gulp. of course you remember that that’s tomorrow. not only is it a big milestone, but it will also be the culmination of everything sexual sunghoon had been promising you for the past week. just his words had been enough to have your thighs clenching.

when you told him you were a virgin, his eyes just about fell out of his head. his beautiful, irresistible girlfriend was a virgin? he couldn’t believe it. he thought you were lying to him. but when he found out you were serious, he realized that just meant more fun for him.

“yes, it is” you nod, giving him an awkward smile. he scans your face for discomfort or nerves. he definitely finds nerves. he gives you a small, reassuring smile. “are you sure you still want to sleep with me for our one year anniversary, y/n?” he moves closer to you on the couch, grasping your hand. he gives it a little squeeze as if to say ‘you’re allowed to say no.’

“yes, i’m sure hoon” you give his hand a squeeze back. you trust your boyfriend to give you an unforgettable first time. he had done nothing but make you feel good about yourself since you started dating which made you all the more confident in his abilities to make you feel the same in bed.

“okay, good. i’ve been thinking about it all week” he sighs out of relief. as if you didn’t know he’d been thinking about it. you roll your eyes, removing your hand from his. “i have one question that you need to answer right now so i can finalize my plans” he says, giving you his biggest and best-est puppy dog eyes. “what is it?” you give him a weird look. what could he be asking you that required his puppy eyes?

his eyes turn dark and he smirks a little. “baby…” he pauses, mostly just for effect. “condom or no condom?” your face immediately burns bright red. you fan yourself, turning away from him. like, props to him for being less vulgar about asking but if he had straight up asked you if wanted it raw, you would’ve had this exact reaction. 

“i uh, um. n-no condom?” of course you had to stutter through your words. you hear your boyfriend curse under his breath. it was so breathy and low that you could feel your thighs aching to press together.

“okay, thank you, baby” he gets up and walks away. he leaves you flustered and aching. unfortunately for you, that’s exactly what he wanted. building up the tension and excitement for tomorrow was his plan from the moment he walked in. 

the next night…

sunghoon had bribed your friend to take you shopping for the day so he could prepare the perfect environment in your apartment. he had even given you his card to spend his money. 

well, your shopping spree had come to end and now here you were. standing outside the door of your apartment. nerves had taken you over when you got in the elevator. it’s not that you didn’t want to sleep with him, you do. but having zero experience compared to your ex-fuckboy boyfriend scared you. 

you debated turning around and putting it off a little longer but the voice in your head told you to just trust him. if anything, him having so much experience might just be better.

you knock on the door as he had instructed you to do this morning. you heard some shuffling and what you assumed, based on his pained groan, was your beloved boyfriend running into something. 

your heart beats loudly in your ears as you hear the lock open and see the knob twist. you’re met with your impossibly beautiful boyfriend greeting you. he’s wearing a white dress shirt that’s slightly wet from what you assume is baby oil based on its glistening sheen. his black dress pants hang low on his hips, his belt having been long discarded. his brown hair is disheveled as clear evidence of his hard work through the day. 

he stands in the door, taking in your nervous frame. your friend had managed to borderline manipulate you into buying and wearing a dress that barely left anything to the imagination. you could feel his eyes undressing you. 

“h-hi” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “c-can i come i-in?” your arms are aching from all of your bags filled with your many unnecessary purchases from the mall. he moves out of the way, gesturing for you to come inside. 

you place your bags down on the floor, leaning down to take your heels off at the same time. you turn back around to face your boyfriend. the air around you feels impossibly heavy as you look up at him. 

you just stand and stare at each other for a moment before sunghoon says his first words to you since you got here. “are you ready, baby?” his eyes scan up and down your body for the millionth time.

“yes, i am ready” you nod. at that verbal and physical confirmation, sunghoon’s self restraints immediately fall away. 

he grabs you by the waist, pulling you flush against him. he ghosts his lips over yours. his tongue licks over your top lip teasingly. he only teases you for a short time before pulling you further into your home. 

“i’m going to cover your eyes and help you walk. there’s one last surprise” he says as his hands obscure your vision completely. he helps you walk carefully towards your bedroom, kicking the door open from behind you. 

you hear the door click shut as he gets you fully into the room. his hands fall away and you open your eyes slowly.

your bedroom is decorated beautifully. fairy lights of different sizes hang on the wall, all on their red light setting. sunghoon had bought brand new, maroon colored bed sheets for tonight and they are gorgeous. he has towels on the side table just in case. unbeknownst to you, he also has a stash of condoms just in case you change your mind about him going in unprotected. a couple candles rest on your shared dresser. as your nose fills with their aroma, you find out they’re all cherry blossom scented. 

sunghoon’s hands come up to rest on your hips. his mouth hovers next to your ear, making you shiver. “i’m gonna ask once more before we start” he blows lightly on your ear before placing a small kiss on the lobe. “are you ready?” a chill runs up your spine as he squeezes your waist. are you ready? are you really? you contemplate one last time before giving your final answer. "yes."

sunghoon spins you around and attaches your lips to his for real this time. you’ve kissed him many times before but something about this one felt… different. the way his fingers drew small shapes on the small of your back made you feel tingly. 

he slowly backs you up towards your bed until he could safely lay you down. you shuffle your way all the way onto the bed, sunghoon’s lips chasing yours as he hovers above you. he does nothing but smash your lips together for a few moments.

when he finally pulls away, a string of saliva remains, leaving you connected. he takes in your appearance. your hair messed up from shuffling around, your lips swollen from kissing him so harshly, your dress riding up in the most delicious way. “can i take this off?” his fingertips graze the hem of your short dress. huffing out a deep breath, you nod. “yes, you can.” 

he pulls the hem towards your head. you sit up slightly so he can slide it all the way off your body. you mentally thank your manipulative best friend for getting you to buy lingerie to wear under such an already sexy dress.

when sunghoon’s eyes meet with your lace-y, deep red bralette, he just about drools. his girlfriend had really gone through all this trouble to get all dolled up. for him. the tent in his pants grows every second he stares at you. you squirm under his lustful gaze, a silent beg for him to do something. anything. 

“hoon, please” you whine out. he gives you a fake pout in response. “please what, my love?” he ghosts his fingers down your sides, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “you have to use your words.” you shift around, trying to move enough to close your legs for some friction. sunghoon stops you, however. he grabs your legs and pulls you back against him, pressing into your clothed core.

“touch me, please” you whine again, your hips lifting to grind against him. your sudden movement shocks him, a low groan slipping from his lips. the sound goes straight between your legs, making your panties stick to you uncomfortably. 

his hands slide down to the safety shorts you’d worn under your dress. his fingertips dip under the waistband. he looks up at you for permission. you nod, licking your suddenly dry lips. he slides the shorts down and all the way off your body. 

his eyes immediately fall to your panties which match your bralette. he shifts uncomfortably, cursing his choice of pants. he really just wants to rip the rest of your clothes off and take you immediately, but he reminds himself to take it slow. 

your hands come up and fumble with the buttons on his shirt, being too shaky to actually undo any of them. he gently moves your hands away and gives you a questioning look, knowing exactly what you want but wanting you to say it out loud. 

“off, please” he giggles at your cuteness. he undoes all the buttons and slides the shirt off, dropping it onto the floor. you slide your hands over his toned torso, taking in his figure. you were right about the sheen on his shirt being baby oil. his skin has a slippery feeling. you’ve seen him shirtless many times, but this time it’s different.

“my love…” his voice is breathy and sexy, a whisper in your ear. you sigh as he presses kisses onto your neck, just under your ear. “won’t you let me taste you?” your back instinctively arches at the thought. he licks a stripe up your neck, kissing back down the trail of saliva he left on your skin. “yes, please, taste me” your own voice is unstable and full of lust. “please, hoon” your chest rises and falls faster by the minute. you think you might die if he doesn’t do something to you soon.

he kisses his way down your torso, leaving a few dark love bites in places no one else will see but him. high pitched moans get stuck in your throat the closer he gets to your wetness. he pushes your legs open as he settles between them. he places small pecks up and down your inner thighs, teasing just a little more. he kisses your heat over your panties, drawing a sharp gasp out of you. 

he opens his mouth to ask for your permission to take the final barrier off and you glare at him. “yes, sunghoon, do it, please.” he chuckles a little before dragging your panties off of you painfully slowly. he drops your final garment onto the floor of your bedroom. you waste no time to close your legs, embarrassment only just now hitting you. sunghoon drags his fingers up and down your legs, pouting at you. "i can't taste you if you close your legs, baby." 

shakily, you reopen your legs, splaying yourself open for your eager lover. he begins kissing your thighs again before placing a kiss on your folds. you shiver at every touch of his lips on your skin. he licks a stripe all the way up, his tongue coming to rest on your swollen clit. he wraps his mouth around it and sucks lightly, knocking the wind right out of you. he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer to him.

he eats you like you’re his final meal and he’ll never be able to eat something as delicious as you ever again. your legs shake around his head as his tongue ducks in and out of your weeping hole. 

out of nowhere he shoves his index finger into you, slowly moving it in and out. it’s a stark contrast to his desperate sucking on your sensitive nub. you whine, shifting to try and get away as you become more sensitive. he grants you the gift of another finger, beginning a merciless pace with his hand and mouth. he whines into you, the vibrations sending a shiver through your spine.

your hands tangle in your boyfriend’s soft brown locks and tug slightly. he releases another whine at the sensation. “h-hoon i’m gonna-” he looks up at you with a knowing look. he keeps his exact ministrations going, watching as you come undone for him. you cum with a loud cry of sunghoon’s name, your grip on his hair falling away.

he pulls away from you, moving up to make eye contact with you. he admires your fucked-out expression. the after orgasm effects still wash over you by the second. “are you ready for the next part, pretty girl?” he brushes your hair out of your face gently. you lean into his hand and nod. “yes, please, sunghoon” your words are breathy and desperate.

he wastes no time in stripping from the remainder of his clothes, it all being discarded on your plush carpet. “no condom?” he asks, stroking himself in preparation. he didn’t allow you to look down in fear of intimidating you out of wanting to let him fuck you. 

“n-no condom” you repeat. he’s gripping your chin to keep your eyes locked with his. you’re really trembling now, but it’s anxious nerves now. he momentarily looks down to line himself up. his tip brushes your hole and a low moan escapes his throat. he looks back into your eyes and slowly pushes into you, bottoming out between your shaky legs.

“s-sunghoon fuck” you pull him down to wrap your arms around his shoulders and dig your nails into his shoulder blades. you don’t press down too hard, though. just enough to ground yourself.

for a few moments, you remain like this. fully connected. his chest pressed against yours, skin meeting with each breath you each take. his hands rest on your hips, his light grip feels so loving.

“please move” you whisper, breaking the silence just a little. he rises from your grip on his back. he angles himself better before drawing all the way out to the tip before slamming back into you. you gasp, your breathing immediately picking up.

he sets a steady pace, his tip prodding at the gummy spot inside of you repeatedly. you reach out to hold his face in both your hands, his sweat dripping onto your fingers. your thumbs caress his cheeks, admiring how his face contorts with his movements. you look at him with so much love he could cry. 

he leans down to kiss your neck, licking droplets of your own sweat off of you. “fuck, baby. you’re so good for me” his voice booms in your head, his words bouncing around. “letting me take your virginity? fuck, baby i’m so happy right now” he rests his face in the crook of your neck for a moment before coming back up. 

your back arches deliciously, his pounding reaching into at a different angle. you clench around him suddenly, almost sending him over the edge. however, he manages to keep himself together. his goal is to get you to finish first.

he reaches down and rubs your clit, high pitched moans escaping your mouth. you reach down to hold his wrist, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment. “gonna cum, please give me cum” you whine, clenching again. he nods his head vigorously. “cum for me baby and i’ll give you what you want” at his words, you fall apart, twitching and squirming as he chases his own high.

his hips still, spilling his seed into you, painting your walls white. he pants, brushing his hair out of his eyes. your mouth hangs open as you come down from your second orgasm of the night. he slowly pulls out of you. he marvels at the sight of his cum spilling out of you. he gets up and grabs a towel to wipe you off. he puts his boxers and a shirt on before passing you your own underwear and one of his shirts to wear. 

he helps you get under the blankets and holds you close to him. he strokes your hair, yawning. “so, how was it?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your waist to bring you closer. “amazing, hoon. beyond my expectations” you kiss his pouted lips softly, smiling at him. he gives you a bright, toothy smile back. 

“happy anniversary, baby.”

© lomlhwa 2023

[a-crazy-fangirl]

SPN posting ahead!

This might be a controversial take, but I am firmly of the opinion that Dean full on settled for Lisa and didn’t really love her like he thought he did.

NOTE: I SAY THIS WITH ALL THE LOVE AND RESPECT FOR LISA!! My hand to God, I’m not trying to be a hater or anything like that. Lisa’s perfectly fine, I just think she and Dean aren’t compatible.

I think he stayed with her because she checked a lot of the boxes of what he thought he wanted. Like on paper, Lisa should be perfect for him. Lisa and her lifestyle embodies what Dean thought he wanted— a picket fence life away from hunting with a hot, down to earth woman and a good kid that idolizes him. It was what his Dad was fighting to avenge, so I think Dean internalized his dad’s desires and goals and saw it as the be all and end all of what someone should want. And again, like he was taught from a very young age, achievement of “goals” and “tasks” as defined by his dad should supersede whatever “””fantasies””” he had for himself (aka his own desires, thoughts, and feelings).

So in that light, maybe his emotional connection with Lisa wasn’t as good as he had experienced with other women, but she was supportive enough and offered a lifestyle that he thought he wanted, so he made due with her fully expecting the rest of the pieces to fall into place. I think he expected that, based on what his dad taught him, if he was a good partner and did what he was supposed to do, the love and happiness would inevitably follow.

I think the fact it didn’t was a part of the reason he went back to hunting with Sam so readily.

Above all, I think the failure of his relationship with Lisa was a moment of serious growth for Dean.

I want to preface this by saying I don’t think he settled intentionally like some kind of fuckboy. He truly cared about Lisa and Ben, without a doubt, and I fully believe he went into that relationship thinking he was right where he wanted and needed to be. I don’t think he went into it lightly or casually by any stretch of the imagination.

But I think his relationship with Lisa, and the way it failed over the course of season 5/6, taught him that a relationship has to be more than just your idealized concept of what a partner (and a relationship) should be. It also involves the connection and truth, no matter how messy or vulnerable that maybe. That, and that it doesn’t always match up with what you expect it should be.

What cements my theory for me is the relationships he had with people that were fully a part of his entire life, warts and all. He loved Cassie. He was on his way to loving Jo. He loved Benny. And he loved Castiel.

His connections with those who truly saw and understood him for who he was in his entirety were far deeper than what he got from someone so far removed from his life.

Looking beyond what’s textual and more into my spitball, head canon opinions, if the show had been fair to Dean, he would have ended up with a fellow hunter— I think that would have been the only way Dean could have had a “real” love interest. Dean is a very emotional man and I think he would need someone who really fully understood him. He never really got that in any long-term fling that was well depicted in the show, which sucks. I think, after everything, he deserved that. I wish we had had at least one lady that matched his freak

(It would have been Jo but the fandom motherfuckers in the mid/late 00s fucked that up for us 🤬)

TLDR!! Lisa strikes me more as someone who John would have liked Dean to pursue rather than someone Dean would have organically sought out on his own. For that reason, the relationship failed because it was what Dean thought he wanted rather than what he actually wanted.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Pomposo

Chapter Fourteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam, Dean/Jo, John/Kate, Adam, Ellen, Garth/Bess (in passing), Cas and Mary (mentioned)

Word Count: 4559

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining. MORE BACKSTORY AHEAD, story takes place currently in Dec 2017, flashback to Jan. 2004 in italics, talk of Sam's past use of hard drugs, hangovers, vomit, car accidents, injuries, character death, guilt, John was not so great a parent or husband, some paraphrasing of last chapter unbeta'd

Special shout out to @thoughtslikeaminefield who helped immensely on sorting out the backstory for this chapter too, way back when I started outlining this thing.

Series Masterlist

Sam settled on some old school soul music to start their road trip and Dean couldn’t even come up with a reason to complain. Aretha sang in the background and they headed east, the world was their oyster and all that. Dean held onto the small bit of smug satisfaction from the interview with Meg as the city disappeared behind them. She really wanted him to crack, but he hadn't and that gave him some hope for going home.

They veered north for a bit and continued on I-40 until they hit Flagstaff. Dean liked the mountains, the air was infinitely better than LA and there was something about spending the holidays where it got cold that made sense. Unfortunately, it was just an overnight stay. How they managed a room in the first hotel they tried, he’d never know. He just shuffled in with his duffel bag and his ball cap over his now sleep-sloppy hair. There was a player-piano in the lobby and Dean had the fleeting thought about how Cas was spending the holidays.

Maybe he’d try and leave him another message, it had been months.

Sam called Madison after dinner and Dean decided to check out the amenities in order to not have to watch Sam get all goopy. Dean hadn’t packed a bathing suit, but a gym’s a gym even if it’s just three treadmills, a stair climber and free weights. So, he jogged for a little bit, watching whatever passed for news. He forgot his earbuds in the room and it really wasn’t worth going back for, he was finding his groove even without music as a buffer to the world around him.

After a solid 5k, Dean stepped down to stretch. Which worked out because a couple in their fifties came in just as he started some curls, leaving the treadmills open for their evening stroll. They talked about their family, the wife explaining what she got each of their grandchildren and where they were supposed to be on which day. Perfectly normal people conversation, but something about it made Dean sad, so he tried to tune them out and focus on his reps.

Part of his life after Cain and Alistair was a loss of gym time. Sure, he could work out at home or even do laps around the neighborhood, but it wasn’t the hours in the ring or at the bag or with a jump rope full-body-punishment that he had worked himself up to. It was also a lot more peaceful, less reactionary. And Dean decided he would find a balance between stagnation and self-destruction. Twenty eighteen was just around the corner afterall.

Dean got back to the room in time to shower and crash. If they wanted to push it, they could make it to their Dad’s place the next day. But neither of them were in a hurry, even in Sam’s fuckboy Charger it was nice to be on the road together. Dean took the first stretch towards Albuquerque, but Sam called it in Santa Fe. He had thought ahead and booked them a hotel instead of chancing it again, which surprised Dean for some reason. Sam had gone and gotten to be responsible while Dean was busy fishing himself out of professional purgatory.

“You talk to Bela?” Sam asked as they waited for their pizza to be delivered. 

“Uh, she texted me that she landed at Heathrow, but not really. Why?” Dean asked after taking a sip of his beer.

“Wasn’t sure if you guys were doing the whole gift exchange thing,” Sam shrugged. “Madison made me wait until after we get back to give her hers.”

Dean chuckled. “I don’t want to know what you’re giving her, alright?”

Sam rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the innuendo. “Won’t people be asking about what you got her?”

Dean hadn’t really thought about it. “I guess I could ask Trouble for some ideas, see if she thinks it’s necessary we post about it. I don’t know, I was kind of hoping of forgetting about the whole thing until New Year’s at Elizabeth’s, you know?”

Sam leveled Dean with a glare. “You know Dad is gonna ask to meet her.”

Dean set down his beer. “Well it’s a good thing she’s halfway across the world then.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Mom loved that show,” Sam said thoughtfully.

He was right. Dean had completely forgotten about why he’d recognized Bela the first time they’d met at your housewarming party way back when. But, yeah, Mary had watched ‘Red Sky in the Morning’ every Tuesday night after she put them to bed. Once Dean reached junior high, he was able to persuade her to let him stay up and watch too.

“I can’t believe it was on as long as it was, it was fucking awful,” Dean said playfully.

“Yeah, but it was her escape,” Sam added gently.

Dean took a long pull off his beer. “I guess so.”

When Sam went to meet the delivery driver, Dean turned on the television, banking on some sort of Christmas special to take his mind off memory lane. They ate quietly, letting last minute sales commercials drown out their thoughts. Tomorrow they were going home, or as close to it as they had outside of LA. Dean felt lopsided over getting to see Adam, having to navigate his dad, and tiptoeing Kate’s well-meaning but invasive nature.

But that’s family for you, nothing more important than that.

Dean rolled over on the couch, something had woken him up and he was too hungover to let it win. But it didn’t stop, a trilling sound coming from his pants pocket, fuck, it was his phone. He cracked one eye open and checked the caller id.

He closed his eyes and answered. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Dean Winchester?” a harried voice asked, decidedly not Jo.

“Ellen?”

“Yeah, listen— there’s been an accident. Jo and Y/N were T-boned on Hound Drive last night. Can you come to the hospital? I just came home for a change of clothes, but I’m heading back there now.”

Dean sat up, liquor and a headache dulling his reflexes. “Ellen? What are they saying?”

“She’s in the ICU. I— we need you there.”

 Terror flooded Dean’s system, churning with a relentless guilt. Jo wouldn’t have been out so late if it wasn’t to see him. He swallowed. “Uh, of course. Do you want me to drive you? I can be there in ten minutes.”

“I’ll pick you up. I’ve got my truck, the roads are still a mess.”

“Right, okay, I’m at Dad and Kate’s— do you–”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Ellen? Be careful.”

“Don’t you start young man.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Ellen hung up.

Dean stumbled into the bathroom and threw up. He didn’t have time for a shower. Instead he grabbed his shaving kit and threw on a fresh layer of deodorant and brushed his teeth. He pounded three Advil with the water from one of those flowery Dixie cups Kate kept in a plastic dispenser on the counter. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, he knew how bad he must look. He stomped back into the living room and swapped his sweaty flannel for one that smelled neutral from his duffel. Adam showed up as Dean was shoving his boots on.

“Dean? Can I put on cartoons?”

He didn’t jump, Dean didn’t get scared of six-year-olds in footie pajamas. He was just on edge, was all.

“Knock yourself out,” Dean said.

“Where are you going?” Adam asked, stealing the afghan Dean had left on the floor.

“Uh, friend of mine had an accident, so I’m heading to the hospital. Can you tell Dad? I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“You can tell me yourself,” John’s voice pressed in behind Dean as he came in from the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand.

“Dad—,” Dean looked at his father, a man who had been on the road cheating on his mother for years. The same mother who died in a fire because John couldn’t bother to make sure to keep the electrical in their shitty double wide up to code. “It’s Jo. Ellen’s gonna take me to the hospital. Dad, I—”

John’s entire stance changed. “Go. Call when you know something. I’ll send Sammy when he’s up, he’ll know what to do.”

They both knew Sam couldn’t stop whatever was happening, but he’d keep Dean from causing a scene.

A car honked in the driveway.

“I gotta go. Thanks,” Dean brushed past his dad without even a glance at Adam.

Dean wouldn’t let Ellen drive, even hungover he trusted himself behind the wheel more than a desperate mother. She only pretended to argue before sliding across the bench seat and letting him in. The roads were a mess. In the thirty minute drive to the hospital, Dean saw another two cars in the ditch. Though, it was clear now in the morning sunshine, everything was blinding in its whiteness.

“Listen, you shut up and keep your head down. Let me do the talking,” Ellen warned him as they approached the reception desk.

“Hi, I’m Ellen Harvelle, I’m here to see my daughter Joanna? This is her fiance.”

Dean squirmed, but nodded at the nurse who looked at him like she wanted to reach over and hug him. “Of course, right this way.”

She led Dean and Ellen down a hushed hallway, the beeping of machines and huffing of ventilators the only sounds escaping the doorways as they passed. Dean looked around for a trash can, the painkillers in his stomach threatening to come back up. Ellen took his hand and pulled him into a room. 

Jo was hooked up to more machines than should have fit in the tiny room. Her hair was matted with blood and she was drowning in the hospital gown. Her beautiful face was swollen and red, the bruises still forming where she hit the passenger side window— or maybe that was the dashboard, Dean couldn’t tell she was so misshapen.

“Oh, Jo,” Dean’s voice broke. He stopped himself from saying anything as the nurse talked, but all he wanted to do was sob.

 He didn’t realize he had let go of Ellen’s hand until he was clenching the rail along Jo’s bedside. Ellen stood on the other side of her, carefully brushing the hair out of Jo’s beaten face. Her one arm was framed in a metal fixator, skin angry from where the bone sliced her open from the inside. Her leg was in a brace, but at least that meant those bones were more salvageable.

“What happened?” Dean said eventually, unsure of when the nurse left. He eyed the machines tracking Jo’s heart rate, but he wasn’t sure if the readings were good or bad.

“Someone was driving on the wrong side of the road— couldn’t see the lines and Y/N swerved to miss them, they spun out and the other car didn’t stop. They took her to surgery– her right knee was shattered.”

“Jo took the brunt of it,” Dean stated the obvious, still too terrified to reach out and touch Jo. She was suddenly so very fragile.

Ellen sniffed.

“They are watching for internal bleeding before they’ll operate. Her brain—," Ellen couldn’t finish.

“Hey,” Dean rushed around the bed and pulled Ellen against his chest, finally giving his hands something to do. “They’re doing everything they can.”

“It’s not enough,” Ellen argued.

“I know,” Dean agreed, squeezing her tighter.

Ellen pulled back and wiped her eyes, muttering to herself about going soft. Dean needed to give her a moment, hell, he needed a minute to catch his breath. He told her he was going to find coffee and she told him they had a waiting area down the hall. He nearly ran out of Jo’s room.

He checked his watch, it was just after ten o’clock. And as exhausted and hungover as Dean felt, he was pretty sure Ellen hadn’t slept at all after closing the bar. He wondered if she’d even made it home before getting the call. He found the coffee maker and pushed a button for something hot and thin and caffeinated. He wondered if Y/N had passed a breathalyzer, knowing how much Jo had been drinking didn’t make him certain her driver was much better off.

He was gonna be sick again.

He left the paper cup on the grate and fell into one of the stiff plastic chairs around the small table. He put his head between his knees and breathed, resting on his elbows. Dean counted the flecks in the white linoleum squares beneath his feet.

Nothing made sense. They were just getting started. Last night there was the impossible giddiness of seeing her in person after so long and now the unabashed horror of her mother sneaking him into the hospital as her fiance so he could see her before…

She was eighteen-fucking-years-old and he was going to lose her.

And it was all his fault.

He stared at the floor until he couldn’t anymore. The coffee was nothing more than a passing burn on the way to his knotted stomach. But he couldn’t stop the tears and he wouldn’t go back to Ellen until they were dry, she needed him to be better than that. When he couldn’t cry anymore and after he used his last single for a pack of peanut M&Ms, Dean went back to Jo’s room.

Ellen was asleep in an ugly mauve chair with her hand clutching Jo’s good ankle over the thin hospital blanket. Dean found another blanket from a CNA and tucked it around Ellen’s shoulders. He stood guard, through Ellen’s brief nap and the three o’clock shift change, even after Sam came by with lunch but left because he wasn’t allowed on the ward.

The seizures started around five and Ellen and Dean were asked to wait outside. Before six, she was wheeled away from them into emergency surgery and by seven she was gone. Dean had to hold Ellen back from slugging the surgeon. He caught her when she finally sank into reality, and somehow Dean found more tears.

Nothing felt real, least of all Dean himself.

Adam looked Dean in the eye and grinned.

“Get over here you little shit, I told you to stop growing the last time I saw you didn’t I?” Dean hugged his youngest brother hard, thumping him on the back as he rocked from foot to foot. “Good to see you, man.”

“You too,” Adam grunted out before Dean could release him.

Then came John, waiting for Dean as he walked through the front door. They didn’t say anything, just gave each other the once over and went in for the hug. John held him tight until he cleared his throat, stepping away from the vulnerable moment. Sam came in with his bags and hugged Kate first, who had been waiting in the hallway to the kitchen.

“Sammy,” John said, holding out his arms.

“Hey Dad,” Sam hugged with genuine warmth on his face, Dean never thought he’d see the day. But time does things to a person, and forgiveness was always Sam’s superpower.

“You boys hungry? I can reheat dinner, I know you’ve been on the road, wasn’t sure when you’d get in,” Kate offered as Dean went in for the obligatory hug. She had colored her hair, instead of her natural blonde it was a mature auburn, covering the gray and giving her a different air.

“Don’t worry about us, we can scavenge for something later,” Dean assured her. “I like your hair.”

That startled her. “Oh! Thank you, yeah I just figured I’d do something different for winter, you know.”

“Don’t she look good? I told her redheads are feisty,” John teased, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Gross,” Adam called on the way to the basement, where Sam had headed down to watch him finish his game.

“Beer?” John offered and Dean gladly accepted.

Arriving three days early was pushing their luck, Dean knew that, but there was nothing keeping him in LA. And after the novelty of catching up and last minute shopping in the tiny downtown of Mills’ Crossing, there wasn’t much more small talk to be had. 

Naturally, John started it. But it was over Sam that had Dean’s hackles up first. They were sitting down for a late lunch, having gone to church as a family for the first time since Kate and John got married when John made a comment about it was good to see Sam’s forearms ‘healthy’. 

What he meant was he was proud of Sam for kicking his habit, for staying clean. What John didn’t know was that Sam was so good at hiding it, Dean had to check between his toes before he finally got him into rehab the last time. Seven years since Sam had kicked it and John still needed to point it out.

The jam session that night seemed to clear the air. Adam had decided he was a drummer sometime after Dean and Sam’s first platinum album so John built him an entire soundproof room in the basement to go wild. Which meant the Winchester men were a full four piece, if they got to pick their parts. Dean abstained from playing lead because it was John’s house after all, but the old man’s hands weren’t what they used to be. And that gave Dean a little bit of satisfaction.

They rolled through the classics, even playing a couple of Phantom Traveler’s songs that didn’t rely too much on the keys. Dean made John sing though, laughing when he made up his own lyrics.

They ended the night with a drunken, almost punk rendition of Jingle Bell Rock after which Kate shut the lights out on them and told them to go to bed.

Christmas Eve was boring, Dean had gotten stir crazy and kept checking his phone. He knew you had gotten in the night before, but he couldn’t justify trying to hang out while you had such little time with your family as it was. Sam gave him a look and they started playing poker, teasing Adam that he needed to know every version of the game if he was gonna hold his own one day. 

Kate wiped the floor with them all.

They had eggnog and exchanged one round of gifts before going to bed, no expectations of Santa Claus or any set wake up time scheduled. It was just another day. Dean barely slept, anxiety churning inside him. He tried meditating. He even prayed, but God, who was understandably busy that night, didn’t save him. Because he woke up with a bug up his ass and, naturally, his father was the first one to point it out.

“You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?” John asked after Dean cursed at Adam’s obnoxious ringtone.

“Do a lot more with it than that,” Dean muttered before he could stop himself.

“Dean Winchester,” John snapped as if Dean was still sixteen, still living under his roof.

“Oh, come on, kids in college, he’s heard worse,” Dean griped, going back to his coffee.

It all went downhill from there. Naturally, Adam got the lion’s share of gifts. Sam and Dean didn’t need anything, but it was so uneven it looked like John and Kate didn’t even remember they were coming to visit. Meanwhile, John’s plasma screen had arrived two days earlier and Sam and Dean were tasked with installing it in the living room midmorning.

Nothing says family time like manual labor and micromanagement.

Dean started drinking before Kate had taken the ham out of the oven. And while Sam wasn’t exactly keeping track, Dean felt like he was asking for whatever bitchface he got next. He just couldn’t stop himself once he started snarking.

Adam was telling them about the musical composition class he had finished and how he had written something for a string quartet. 

“Our new keyboard player went to Julliard, you should send it to him,” Dean said off the cuff, before shoving some venison sausage in his mouth from the snack trays Kate put out.

“So you upgraded from Cas officially now?” John asked suspiciously.

“Dad, Cas left the band last spring, of course we made it official,” Sam cut in. John already knew this.

“I know, I just hoped you boys would work it out.”

Dean laughed darkly. “Nothing to work out. Dude left, we moved on.”

“And why did he leave exactly?” John goaded Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes, John was one to talk. He had pissed off half of all musicians between the Rockies and New Orleans before he hung it up.

“Let’s call it the Winchester temper and leave it at that,” Dean smiled without teeth, then popped more snacks into his mouth.

“Yeah, cuz the Campbell blood held only saints,” John muttered.

“Dad!” Sam admonished.

“That’s fucking rich! Talking about her when she’s not here to call you on your shit. I fucking punched Cas, alright?! You happy?! And who, DAD, taught me how to do that? Huh? Winchester temper. Not Campbell. That one was all from you.”

John stepped into Dean’s space, but spoke to Sam. “Sam, take your brother outside for a walk to cool down before dinner.”

Sam grunted in confirmation.

“Watch how you talk to me in my own home, Dean. Or I’ll show you a Winchester temper,” John said lowly. “You understand?”

Dean rolled his shoulders and looked his father in the eye. “Who exactly paid for this house again, Dad? Yeah, I’ll talk to you how you deserve it. I’m out of here.”

Dean felt Adam watching from the corner as Kate pulled John out of the kitchen and into their bedroom to give him a piece of her mind. Sam nodded at their younger brother, silently thanking him for holding down the fort as Dean stormed out the front door.

The Roadhouse was blissfully the same, with only a handful of beaten down cars in the parking lot. Dean had spent enough Christmases at bars or taverns throughout his life, but now he just wanted something that felt like home to get through this tightness in his chest. What they found inside was something altogether more special.

Ellen’s entire face lit up as they walked in, an empty plate in front of her and Garth manning the food line. Dean got his hug in first, but Sam took his time asking about what was going on. Then you were there, and Dean felt a hot shame creep up because he was this close to falling into old patterns. And that wasn’t how he ever wanted you to see him. He zipped his lips, pleading with himself to get a handle on his temper already.

He felt you breathe him in, the truth was never hard for you to suss out. And yet Dean held on, needing you close, being stupid and selfish as ever.

They took their free meal and ducked into a corner, watching as Ellen played angel to the downtrodden of Boone county. Slowly, Dean was able to set his shit aside. With Sam talking about anything and everything across from him; he accepted his resentment for his father, his frustration at himself and the stupid fucking feelings he had for you. It all seemed much more manageable when faced with people who had to get over much bigger obstacles with so much less. There was one more thing he promised he’d do while he was home, now that he’d visited Ellen. And he double checked that Sam was still good to go with him, to be his chauffeur.

They helped clean up, though Ellen moved a mile a minute and did tasks faster than she could explain them. And then Ellen was handing you off like a Christmas present, one that Dean couldn’t ever accept. 

Ellen said her goodbyes and left Dean standing in the parking lot without much of a guess on what you wanted to do next.

“I guess we better get going,” he said, asking Sam more than anything.

Then Sam reminded Dean about the cemetery and a new wave of guilt seeped into Dean’s stomach. When it came to Jo, you had first dibs. She was your best friend and Dean’d be damned if he’d visit her without you getting a chance to too. As macabre as it was, he felt he owed it to you.

You looked like you were going to be ill.

“Maybe we should ask her if she wants to go,” he told Sam, searching your eyes for permission at the very least.

You took your time with the idea, but turned him down. “If it’s okay, would you mind dropping me off first? I know it’s in the other direction.”

Dean felt you sinking behind a wall the further they got from the Roadhouse, you asked questions and made conversation, but you weren’t really in it. He probably shouldn’t have brought up Jo, but with Ellen and Christmas and the Roadhouse, she was already everywhere anyway. 

They let you out at your parents’ and headed back across town. The streets were almost empty with the sacredness of the holiday. The cemetery was decorated in pine wreaths and cheap red ribbons. The narrow paths were  silent beneath their feet. Dean had thought he knew what he wanted to say when he decided to take this little side quest to see Jo.

What he said once Sam was safely back inside the Charger was something else entirely.

“So, I’ve been better. Not like I’m bad now, but I’ve been doing actually better. I was a mess for a long time. And not just from you, but a lot of shit. And last year, I guess earlier this year really, I kind of imploded. I started hurting people, like actually hurting them and justified it to myself somehow. Then I pushed Cas away from helping me, after breaking his nose. And well, the bands a lot different now. But we’re still doing it. 

Look, Jo, I know you wanted me to live my dreams and see the world. Things I always wish you could have done. But sometimes dreams are regular everyday things, like bringing home pie or having somebody to say goodnight to. And I haven’t let myself have dreams in a long, long time. But I think maybe I’m starting to again.

And I just need you to know that I’m gonna be okay. And I am gonna do what I can to keep your people safe, because they’re my people now too, you know? You gave me another mom and a best friend without even meaning to. And we all miss you like crazy. But, we’re okay. Merry Christmas, beautiful. I  hope the angels pull out all the stops up there.”

Dean exhaled, his nose thick and eyes stinging in the cold air. He wiped his face and looked at Jo’s name one more time before turning back towards the road. Sam waited until Dean was buckled in before asking, “you good?”

“Yeah, man. Let’s get back before I cause more of a sensation,” Dean said, not meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Okay,” was all Sam said.

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Chapter 15: Rubato