#jealous!dean winchester x reader

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Guerriero

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Victor, Kevin and the rest of the band eventually, Bobby, Donna, and faceless Uber drivers

Word Count: 1978

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, hardcore jealousy, self loathing, funneling rage as productively as possible

Series Masterlist

It shouldn’t have bothered him. Hell, any other day and any other hand on the small of your back, he wouldn’t have even looked twice. But there was Donna and Jody’s manager guiding you out of the way of traffic, all smooth and handsome and available.

Dean couldn’t look away. He stood in the kitchenette on the bus, forgetting he was looking for some painkillers for his damn head when everything just stopped making sense. He watched as the both of you smiled and talked all the way up to the employee entrance, security passes in hand.

Goddamn Vic.

Instantly, Dean knew it was his fault. If he hadn’t let this thing with Bela go on this long, he might have been able to have a shot with you. If he hadn’t needed the reputation ‘Hail Mary’ that was dating Bela in the first place, maybe he’d have had the freedom to date whoever he wanted sooner. And maybe, if he hadn’t let Bela stay in his room the night before instead of bunking with you, you wouldn’t have been being chatted up alone by the opener’s manager.

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

Dean slammed the cabinet closed and dropped onto one of the benches surrounding the table. His head fell into his hands and he tried to get a grip.

Breathe, damnit. 

He needed to breathe.

He had no right to be this pissed. You didn’t owe him anything. Least of all your loyalty. But god had he gotten used to it. Had even grown to expect it.

He started humming ‘Enter Sandman’ and let his breathing match the off beat of the rhythm. 

Somebody cleared their throat. Dean looked up to see a saucer-eyed Kevin staring at him and then looking everywhere else once he got caught.

“You good, man?”

“No.” Dean rubbed his eyes and put his head back down.

He would not punch another keyboardist. He would not punch another band member. Not even Sam.

Sam.

Where was that overgrown hair commercial when he needed him, anyway?

Kevin, God bless him, was still there. “Do you need anything?”

Dean needed to just fucking get it together.

“Can you find my brother for me, please?” Dean wiped his hand down his face. “Just find Sam.”

“On it.” Kevin had his phone out and was walking off the bus before Dean could even mutter his thanks.

Dean stayed on the bus. He didn’t know why, but it felt safest to not be in public. And to not risk seeing you or Victor again and therefore lose the last semblance of sanity he had left.

Several murder plots and a discarded flannel later, Sam’s text buzzed in Dean’s pocket.

He wasn’t even fucking at the venue yet.

Dean threw his phone at the driver’s seat headrest and miraculously it didn’t break.

He breathed again. He counted them harder.

He had tools to get out of this spiral. Missouri told him he could do it on his own. Breathing wasn’t working. But he could put this energy to use, he didn’t need to let it win.

What he did need was to get out of there.

Dean had no idea what, if anything, was said during his Uber ride home. Whatever, he’d rate the guy a five later. He’d tip like the fucking millionaire he was. 

But right now he just wanted to hit something.

The speed bag was too flimsy, too annoying for what had been building inside him for over an hour. Something he had held back on a simmer as long as he could. He didn’t take the time to wrap his knuckles, but he did shove his hands into the first pair of gloves he found, cushioning the worst of potential injuries.

The slap of the punching bag against his gloves was a forgotten clarity.

One-two

One-two

One-two, jab jab

Uppercut

Dean fully exhaled and recentered. 

One-two

One-two-three

One

One

One-two

He knew the anger was at himself. At his past actions and their consequences. But that knowledge didn’t help the force or scope of the emotion dwindle. Dean had always been his worst enemy. And he was damn good at it.

One

One-two

One

One-two-three

He tried to bounce on his feet, his bulky boots weighed down more than he liked. At least his logical brain was rebooting.

One-two

One-two

One-two

One-two-three

Dean felt his phone buzz against his thigh. He ignored it.

One

One

One-two

One-two-three

One-two

One-two

One-two-three

Dean punched until his knuckles ached and his back screamed at his terrible stance. Eventually he dropped the gloves and moved to the free weights. The rage left him slowly and then all at once.

Exhaustion hit him sometime after six o’clock, when he sat down and braved looking at his phone.

He didn’t open his messages or listen to any of the voice mails. Instead he called Sam and told him he was on his way, without detail or apology and then promptly hung up.

The Uber back took twice as long.

He still tipped.

“The fuck you been, boy?!” Bobby said before Dean could clear the service elevator. “We got people going out of their minds looking for you.”

Bobby had to book it to keep time with Dean’s pace at his age, but he was pissed enough not to say anything about it.

“I know, I’m sorry. I had to get my head on straight.---- Uh, anybody rat me out to the suits?” 

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do I look like I have a death wish to you?” “Thanks, Bobby.”

Bobby huffed. “Yeah, well, you better kiss and make up with those girls. They were worried about your sorry ass, too. But first—”

“Dean Michael Winchester.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks and turned on his heels, better to face the firing squad than to wait for the first bullet to break the skin.

“Pammy.”

“Do not. No. Do not ‘Pammy’ me. Answer your damn phone, asshole.”

Dean didn’t answer, he just walked up to her, looked into her piercing eyes, and waited her out. She exhaled and then stepped back, while looking him over.

“You good?” She held up his right hand to show she saw his raised knuckles.

“I’m good.”

“And the other guy?”

“Hanging in the rec room at home.”

Pam pursed her lips like she was ‘oh’ing at him and grinned. “That could be very kinky, but I catch your drift.”

“Who else I need to make nice with?”

Pam dropped her chin and glared. “Everybody.”

“But I think you should start with Trouble— or Charlie. Then maybe your girlfriend? Remember her? She’s not happy with you either.”

Oh, joy.

“Wait— what time is it? Isn’t Charlie already in the booth?”

“Yeah, can’t you hear that? Jody’s girls are on stage, genius,” Bobby broke in.

“Okay, lemme check in with Sam and see if I can find Trouble before we gotta set up.”

Dean felt Pam and Bobby share a look as he walked away, but he didn’t have the time or the patience to overthink anything at that point. Christ, somebody better have a friggin’ energy drink or he was gonna crash, hard.

Show number two was off to an amazing start.

If Dean survived this tour, he was giving himself a vacation. 

If.

Dean rushed through his warm ups. He chugged a Gatorade because he didn’t want to pass out on stage and polished it off with a 5 hour energy he got off of Kevin. Everybody was surprisingly cool once he arrived and got situated. Something told him it was because he was stone cold sober, but they had seen him at his worst. Everyone knew this was just a bump in the road, not a pitfall. Or so he hoped.

Annie gave him a hug and warned him not to scare her like that again.

With Charlie in the booth, who got only a cursory update over the walkies, that left you. But you had Bela in the VIP for that night’s show, which saved him another round of explanations and apologies, for the time being.

The dressing room was filled with activity, from Sam doing his hair and Pam doing Kevin’s eye liner to Lee putting on deodorant and Annie doing vocal runs in the corner. Dean threw on a fresh shirt before making sure his earpiece was in and his personal mic was secured. His hair was still damp since he threw it under a ball cap after showering at home one last time before they hit the road.

He coated his fingers in gel and played with it until it was close to his usual subtle peak.

“You all pretty enough, yet? Need ya out there, yesterday,” Bobby bellowed and held the door as everyone scrambled to head backstage.

The sounds of the fans sending off SPS thundered above them. Dean inhaled against the familiar anticipation squeezing his insides. As they snaked through the crew and the equipment, the stadium hummed with people milling about, hitting the restroom, or grabbing more drinks before they took the stage.

It felt good to be the headliner. Dean didn’t take that for granted. And if in ten or fifteen years they're no longer relevant and they end up playing county fairs or opening for the next big thing, Dean thinks he’d still do it. Because it’s not about his ego, it’s about giving a good show. About sharing something he made with somebody, the exchange of art, the experience of it. 

Being seen and heard, even in small increments, was so necessary to who he had become.

Breaking him out of his thoughts, Donna shrieked in surprise as the two bands passed each other. Dean couldn’t do anything but give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I know— I’ll see ya later.”

“Oh, you!” She shoved him playfully and let Dean get up on stage. There was never any bad blood there, even if he had them worried too.

Everything was right where it was supposed to be, and Dean slipped his guitar strap on, and got ready to rock. Second night setlists were almost negatives of the ones they planned for first nights. Not that many people could afford to go to both shows, but nonetheless they switched it up even if it was for their own sanity’s sake.

The lights came up and Sam and Dean started the opening riff and just as Dean’s voice broke through the speakers, Charlie cut the lights. “Black” was a tune they had played with a lot over the years, but never something they’d opened with. The fans shrieked over the opening line and then spots shot out over each of them as the song pushed on, churning together into something darker.

Lee held the last chord and the lights all came back up to ruckus applause.

Dean exhaled and braced himself for the next song. He hadn’t spoken to you about it since he sent you the album files, months ago now. Charlie eased the lights back into something more pensive and he centered up on the stage.

“Alright, so you might have heard we shared some of the new stuff with the folks last night.” He paused to let the crowd reply. “But, this one is new to everybody, lemme know whatcha think, alright?”

They started off with Pamela’s count, everyone together, united for ‘Pushing Through’. He thought about all those nights you called him just to check in, with nothing to say, besides just being your caring, thoughtful self. He closed his eyes to the thousands of people in front of him, even to those in the pit whose phones were all glaring at his face, and sang like you were the only person who would hear him.

He just wanted you to listen to him and everything he couldn’t say.

Tagging:

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Chapter 29: Obbligato

[the-spicy-release-of-death]

Masterlist

House of the Dragon

Aemond Targaryen

A Study of Dramatic Irony

Summary: Y/n always had a crush on Aemond. Her close friendship with Helaena stopped her from crossing the fine line of friendship with Aemond, who silently returns her feelings.

Tropes: Jealousy, mutual pining, alternate universe (modern university setting), She/her reader

Fine Arts (i) Film Studies (ii) Drama Studies (iii)

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

“The thing about Dean was that he never said I love you. He always implied it, by his daily actions or loving looks, but he never truly uttered that three worded sentence. Instead, he always said: Don’t do anything stupid.”

Don’t Do Anything Stupid   

[moonlightspencie]

Hello! I was wondering if I could make a Dean x Readed request where he's jealous of her and Sam, thinking they're together when they're actually just good friends? Love your writing!!

i’ll write a little drabble bc i do think this is a fun concept BUT im happy to tell you that i already have a full-length fic about this exact thing!! here’s the link to that

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader, platonic!sam winchester x reader

—————

Dean stared at the pair chatting across the table from him in the library. His brow was set, and his eyes hadn’t been on the screen of the laptop in a couple of minutes, now.

They were incessantly talking. Since when did they talk this much? Or get along this well?

Granted, it had been a few months since they’d last all seen each other. But things shouldn’t have changed between them that much. Unless…

“Hey,” Sam said, snapping Dean out of his haze. “What’s up with the death-glare?”

Dean raised a brow. “I’m not glaring.”

Sam glanced at his conversational partner, a smirk on his face.

“I think he’s glowering, then. Maybe just… aggressively staring,” she said, voice a little quiet for dramatic effect.

“Maybe if you two would get some work done instead of… makin’ eyes at each other—”

“‘Making eyes’?” she exclaimed with a laugh. “What are you talking about?”

“Sitting there staring at each other like you wanna rip each others clothes off. It’s gross.”

Her eyes went wide. She looked over at Sam, and he stared back with a quizzical look, giving a shrug.

“Dean, we’re not,” Sam started, then let out a frustrated sigh. “We’re friends. That’s it.”

“Since when are you this close?”

“Since he actually responds to all my messages and makes an effort to talk,” she said pointedly. “Maybe somebody wouldn’t be so jealous if he didn’t ignore half my texts.”

Dean’s face dropped. “I’m not jealous.”

She quirked a brow, staring back at him. Sam cleared his throat, standing up.

“I think I’m going to catch a quick shower before we leave tonight.”

She nodded, still watching Dean as he followed his brother’s movements until he was out of sight.

“People who aren’t jealous don’t stare. Just so you know,” she said with a smirk.

“Annoyed people do.”

“What exactly are you annoyed by? Two people being friends?”

He sighed, shaking his head and staring down at the tabletop. She leaned in slightly, catching his eye again.

“Just for the record, you wouldn’t have to be ‘annoyed’ if you’d just make a move already.”

With that, she stood and walked towards the kitchen, leaving a shocked and blushing Dean stuck to his chair.

[supernaturalfreewill]

Dean x fem!reader “Promise you won’t laugh!” Your voice came from behind the door.

“What? Why would I laugh?” he asked, perplexed at the request.

“I don’t know... I feel—I feel stupid... I’m not used to this!” 

“Well, it’s just for the case... but I don’t know why you would feel stupid,” Dean said, pacing in front of your door impatiently.

“I’m just used to wearing flannels and jeans, I guess,” you said. You took one more glance in the mirror and sighed, nerves fluttering in your stomach. You turned and opened the door and stepped into the hallway, walking as carefully as you could in the high heels.  Dean’s eyes went wide and he not so subtly looked you up and down. “Whoa...”

Your face flushed. “Dean!”

“Uhh—” he laughed awkwardly. “No... I mean... I meant that in a good way, because... wow.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck nervously. “I’m a little jealous of this guy, even though I know it’s not a real date and all for surveillance...”

Your cheeks were warm and flushed. “Shush,” you scolded him, looking down at the floor length gown.

“I’m not kidding. You look—I—you look amazing. I—wow.” He laughed nervously again. Shit, why couldn’t he play it cool around you? “Maybe next time I could, you know, just go with you instead...”

You smiled at him a little abashedly. “That would be better. This guy gives me the creeps.”

“Yeah, on second thought—maybe this isn’t the best plan.”

“Well you and Sam will be right outside, right?” you said.

“Yeaaaah, but... I don’t like it. Wonder if I can find a tux by tonight...” Prompt: “Promise you won’t laugh!”

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 17

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, mentions of drugs and porn, fluff, pining, majorly jealous!Dean (*cackles* 😈), some angst, A+ parenting of a teenager, 70s disco & roller rinks

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Welcome back, babes! Batch #4 is a wild one, so grab your popcorn, settle in, and hold on to your seats! Jealous!Dean is definitely always one of my favorites to write, but I might have outdone myself with this one. We’re starting soft but prepare yourself for some major drama. Also, the women are getting more feisty and seeing through his shit. It’s quite hilarious. Enjoy! 😂🖤

<< 16 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

17. Voulez-Vous

The California sun is a hot, flaming orange ball in the blue sky, beaming as brightly as the shiny, black paint of the classic beauty and the green-eyed director’s grin as the Impala rolls into the parking lot of the old gym. Everyone’s been on break for a whole month, a nice end-of-summer vacation. Some girls left the motel, visiting family members and enjoying their freedom. Even Strindberg flew east for an entire week to see her parents.

Dean, on the other hand, kept busy, mostly coping with being a newborn father and managing a teenager with raging hormones. Claire’s up, she’s down, she’s sleeping a lot and simultaneously stays up all night. She hates school; she loves school. She hates Jack; she loves Jack. It’s a lot to handle, which is why he’s glad Y/N stops by as much as she can and micromanages the blooming family. Fatherhood ain’t so bad so far, though. Turns out it’s pretty damn hard to kill a teenager.

And lucky him, Claire invites the actress to dinner almost every night, which is beneficial for obvious reasons because Dean gets to hang out with her, too. Y/N cooks, even teaching the teenager a thing or two, and then they all eat at the dinner table like a goddamn family. No one says grace, though. Afterwards, they play fucking board games of all things or watch movies together. It’s textbook domestic bliss, and strangely, he doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, he hopes it never ends and wonders why he hasn’t done something like this sooner. For the first time in his forty-four years, he understands the curb appeal of the suburban family life. It’s quite nice.

Y/N also helps Claire with homework like the true nerd she is, and sometimes, when it’s too late to drive back to the motel, or she had too much wine – Dean religiously ensuring to refill her glass all throughout the evening – Y/N even stays the night, albeit she spends it on the couch, refusing his invitation to join him in bed.

It’s not even a sex offer, you know? It’s just a ‘sleep on a comfortable memory foam mattress and not on that filthy couch’ offer. He’s mainly concerned about her health and the state of her back. He bought that dirty thing back in ‘71, for God’s sake… But the young actress doesn’t want to give Claire the “wrong idea.” Can you fucking believe that shit?!

Dean spent a whole week apart from Y/N, however, while she was in Nebraska pushing fucking cows. He hates to admit it, but he has missed her like crazy. He barely slept, he barely ate (at least nothing healthy), he smoked a whole carton of cigarettes, and worst of all, Y/N told him to only call in emergencies because her mom always picks up the phone, and that woman is apparently goddamn nosy. The young actress called him twice from a pay phone at a gas station, though. But, to be fair, she just checked in to make sure Claire was doing okay without her around to supervise his parenting.

Truthfully, while Y/N might be glorious seventeen years younger than him, she’s surely more mature. She’s like a soccer mom – or an 80-year-old grandma knitting baby hats in a rocking chair and forcing you to eat broccoli and oatmeal cookies. She’s every little thing. Everything great. All at once – which, on a good day, is overwhelming at best. On a bad day, though, that knowledge is downright killing him.

She’s his Alma. There’s no goddamn way around it. He wants to eat fucking vegetables for her.

His apple green eyes then spot the actress who holds his heart hostage as she gleefully chats with a few of the other women in front of the gym’s entrance, probably catching up like schoolgirls after summer break. There’s a lot of giggling going on.

Y/N then spies the Impala and sends him a shining smile that causes his plastic heart to melt like ice cream in the sun, waving her hand all cute before hopping over to the car and crawling into the passenger’s seat.

“Morning, boss!“

Dean groans loudly, rubbing his temples. “Oh God, it’s too early for that much cheerfulness…”

“Why are you parked all the way over here?”

“I’m giving myself a minute, okay? Before I have to spend the next twenty weeks of my life surrounded by a bunch of people,” Dean grunts exhaustively.

“Wow, look at you. You look so handsome.”

That particular compliment makes him drop his hands from his freckled face, his eyes drifting to her. A smug grin curves his plump lips – his genius plan is working.

Dean’s been using the break to clean up a bit. Not just for Y/N but for Claire, too. They both deserve fucking better than him. He knows. However, he still can’t shake the coke, although he told both women in his life that he’s clean again. But before you yell at him, just let him explain, alright?

Dean can’t go through another cold turkey nightmare. He doesn’t want to be weak, especially since he has tons of work to get done and tons of pressure weighing on his broad shoulders. So, he sneaks a few dust particles every once in a while to maintain a steady addiction without going overboard, just enough to avoid withdrawals. He needs the bit of extra energy to survive in this jungle of wildcats. It’s not ideal, but it’s the best he can do for now without going completely nuts in this circus.

Hand on his red-blooded, beating heart, though, he swears he’ll get clean for good once this fucking show is over. Promise.

The good news is, however, for once, Dean comes to work clean-shaven, his hair a few inches shorter and less disheveled than usual, and freshly washed clothes clad his showered and nicely scented body. His heart soars as he watches Y/N’s eyes take in his new appearance, her teeth languidly tugging on her bottom lip. If he concentrates hard enough, he can even see how her breath hitches and her pulse accelerates. And God, Dean loves how her hungry eyes shamelessly devour him, bathes in the glorious feeling of her gawks.    

“Thanks.” He smirks cunningly and teases, “Is that a new pair of mom jeans? How was Nebraska?”

“Eh, it was…”

“Nebraska?” Dean offers knowingly. That’s why he hasn’t visited Kansas in more than two decades.

“Yep.” She gives him a heavy nod and sighs. “It was nice to see my parents, though. Speaking of parenting, how’s it going with our favorite rebel?”

“It’s, you know… going,” Dean replies, hearing Y/N’s little giggle next to him. God, he’s missed that stupid noise. It’s more addicting than the coke.

“So, what’s happening today? What are we doing? God, I’m so excited!” Y/N squeals giddily in the leather seat. “Oh, uhm, I also have a few notes for the pilot for you.” She produces a notebook from her purse and puts her glasses on. Of course, she does. “I really think we need a title card, you know? Something to draw the audience in… And can you punch up your graphics? We could use more pow. And that edit at thirty-six minutes and twenty-two seconds looked a little rough… Maybe you wanna write that down?”

Dean scowls at her, deeply, and lets out an exhaustive breath. “How about we dial back a little, huh? Let’s take it easy.”

“I’m sorry.” The pout on her plush lips is adorable, which drives him mad, wanting to kiss it away. She stores notebook and glasses back in her bag. “I’m just so thrilled! It’s our first day back! Are you nervous? Is that why you’re grumpy?”

“Yes, no… maybe,” Dean grunts, and then he’s the one that pouts, slumping back into his seat. “No pep talks, alright? This is not my usual thing, okay? I don’t plan shit months in advance. I even ironed this fucking shirt this morning. No idea why. I don’t even wanna do this fucking thing, you know?”

“It’s a big production. You’re gonna do great. And you’ve got me, boss. We’re in this together,” Y/N encourages him, smiling like she believes her own lie. “Hey, uhm, the girls and I were wondering if we could extend curfew tonight? It’s Meg’s birthday, and Charlie and Ruby want to go to the roller rink to celebrate and then do an after-party by the pool. You’re invited, too.”

“Uh-huh…” Dean rubs his mouth with two fingers to hide the grin, choosing to humor her. “And did they, by any chance, put you up to ask me because they know you’re my favorite, or am I supposed to believe this is a sheer coincidence?”

Y/N beams a thousand-watt smile, eyes twinkling and outshining the Hollywood sign. “I’m your favorite?”

Shit…

“What, no…” Dean shakes his head vehemently. “I meant that they probably think you are because we hang out the most, y’know?”

“Yes, but considering we do spend so much time together, maybe their assumption is correct,” the clever minx counters.

“Nope, I just find you less annoying than the others,” he dismisses her silly idea, which is essentially the truth, but she can’t know that.  

“But that would also mean–”

“Okay, can we stop this?” Dean cuts her off, grumbling, “Congrats, you’re making me leave my Baby, and that’s my favorite place to be.”

“Oh, wait!“ A palm on his bicep stops his escape and causes severe heart palpitations in his chest. “So, can we go?”

“Hm, what? Oh.”

“Because I really wanna go, too.” There’s the fucking pout on her pink lips again. The cute bat of her eyelashes is her finishing move.  

“Fine, I’ll allow it.”

The women have all gathered on the bleachers for Dean’s welcome speech – which won’t be that welcoming because he’s got a shitload of things on his plate. For once, there are actually other people in the gym, a whole production crew building a set as they transform the rundown gym into a luxurious ballroom.

“Alright, ladies!” Dean’s baritone shouts loudly over the irritating background noise of drills and hammers, clapping his hands together. “Feels exciting around here, right? And we finally got some men in this fucking gym, too…”

“Wooo! Hubba-hubba,” Ruby hollers and immediately winks at one of his camera guys, Kevin, who frankly seems intimidated. Who wouldn’t be? These wild women are practically cat-calling these poor men.

Horny fucking bitches… Except for Strindberg, of course. Can’t those girls just rub some of that sluttiness off on her?

“Okay, keep it in your pants, girls. They’re not here for you, so don’t distract them. They need to fucking work,” Dean warns them, although he knows it’s useless with that untamed pack. “The next few days are prep days, which means it’s about me, so stay out of my way, alright? Just start training at the motel. You know, cannonball into the pool… Alright, dismissed.”

“Don’t you wanna explain the plan to us, maybe?” Y/N prompts him, earning her a stern glare. She’s getting too fucking cocky, and he needs to keep his authority in check before she levels up and recognizes what kind of power she exerts over him.

“It’s not fucking rocket science, Y/N,” he snaps, feigning his impatience. “You guys do promos every week where you talk shit about each other, and then there’s a lot of wrestling matches. Got it?”

“What about the storylines?” Strindberg inquires next, eliciting a groan from him.

“Y/N!” The deep timbre of his voice is booming, a thundering stare serving as a warning to drop it, but she doesn’t cower like she used to. Apparently, now he’s dealing with sass and feistiness. Great. What has he done? Sometimes, he misses the obedient, compliant nerd she used to be, the days when she was all “Yes, sir,” and “How can I please you, boss?”. Nevertheless, his cock still twitches in his jeans, maybe even more so now.

“Fine,” the young actress huffs and holds up her palms in pretend surrender. He even recognizes a hint of an eye roll. Pure defiance.

Dear fucking God, if she doesn’t stop this soon, she’ll be in his office with her bare ass out and bend over his goddamn desk in less than five minutes.

Cas then hands the women their new contracts, which should basically be fucking slave agreements. Those girls are getting a shit deal, but neither the producer nor Dean can do anything about it. Crowley set up those terms of agreement, and the network only cares about making money. Capitalism and slavery are, after all, the backbone of this country.

As Dean is giving the sound team some clarifying instructions, his ears pick up a conversation between Strindberg and one of his camera operators, Benny. Admittedly, the guy is handsome and about ten years his junior, and the director is slightly sensitive around cameramen ever since his cheating second ex-wife.

Y/N, however, still isn’t interested in dating – or she would’ve already accepted his offer and knocked on his bedroom door on one of those many nights they’ve spent together. Duh. He’s sure of it. There’s nothing for Dean to worry about. Nothing. Zero, zip, zilch, nada. He knows she’s not ready yet.

“Hey… Y/N, right?” Benny approaches the young actress, and Dean can hear the goddamn ear-to-ear grin in the guy’s voice – even with his back turned. “Just wanted to tell you, uhm, you did a great job with the pilot. Seems like you’re multi-talented, cher. Actress, professional wrestler, and director... You’re quite an impressive person.”

“Oh, uhm, thanks.”

Jesus fucking Christ, shit… Dean can practically hear the heat rushing to her cheeks as she furiously blushes. Compliments are her kryptonite, and this was admittedly a good one. As he spies a glance over his shoulder, he can see she’s even a little weak in the knees as she tucks her hair behind her ears, almost urging the director to punch that guy’s lungs through his torso.

“You’re welcome, cher.” Benny smiles, more kind than flirtatious, but Dean knows men don’t give women compliments for no reason. There’s always an agenda behind it. In most cases, that agenda is sex. “Maybe we could go for a drink when I’m finished here?”

There it is! Dean loves to be right about stuff like that. And also: shit, shit, shit…

“Uhm…”

“Hey, Benny, you got time to set up camera B for me? I don’t think I’m fucking paying you to chat with my actresses,” Dean barks as he approaches the pair, saving Y/N from this awkward situation like a true hero, chest puffed and all. He plants his bow legs next to her, his shoulder blade pushing her behind his back like a wedge between the flirty couple. He’s the fucking Berlin wall, and the commie ain’t getting out.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, chief.” Benny nods and swallows with a bitter smile. Dean can read the irritation on the guy’s face, which pleasantly feeds his sadistic side.

“Oooh, Benny!” Ruby excitedly jogs up to the three and halts in front of the blue-eyed camera operator with a mischievous grin, twirling her hair between her red-painted fingernails. “We’re throwing a party at the motel tonight and were wondering if you wanted to come and bring the rest of those hulky boys with you?”

“Uh, sure. I’ll ask the guys, but it would be our pleasure, cher,” Benny chuckles, charm oozing from every defined muscle in that guy’s body, but Dean’s thread of patience rips when the bastard looks back at Y/N and drags his fucking teeth over his lower lip, blatantly gawking at his favorite. “Maybe I’ll see you there, too,” the asshole has the nerve to flirt.

“Yeah, maybe.” Y/N fucking blushes.

Dean can’t tell for sure if she’s actually interested in the guy or if she’s just politely humoring him. Either way, that’s the final straw, and the smidge of patience he possesses disintegrates into thin air. “Alright, you guys can party all you want, but just as a reminder, no fraternization between crew and cast members is allowed on this set. No funny business.”

“What?! Since when?” Ruby whines, puckering her brow. “But I’m horny!”

“Are you going to stick to that rule, boss?” Strindberg mockingly adds, both women dubiously cocking their eyebrows at him.    

Fuck… But Dean doesn’t have to stick to that stupid rule, okay? He’s the boss and can do whatever the fuck he wants. That’s the magic of it. Obviously, he doesn’t give a shit who fucks who. He’s lived through the 60s. For all he cares, they can fuck like rabbits in those motel rooms. This rule is only applicable to Y/N and other men who aren’t him. And don’t you dare call him petty – he saw her first and is calling dibs, alright?

“Enough of you two. I don’t need input from the peanut gallery,” Dean grits, looking at the girls sharply. “Didn’t I tell you to stay outta my way today? What are you still doing here? Get the fuck back to the motel. Pronto.”

“Fine, alright, we’ll go,” Y/N mutters with an eye roll, linking arms with Ruby as she drags her friend away. “You’re so grumpy today…”

Her words drift toward him in passing as she stalks out of the gym with the brunette, her hips swaying with pure temptation as he watches her leave, his dick straining against the zipper. Fucking tease.  

Spinning back to Benny, Dean lets out a long sigh, placing his palms on his denim-clad hips. “Ever worked with this many fucking women before?”

Surprisingly, the camera operator’s head positively bobs. “Actually, yeah. I used to shoot porn before this, so if you ever need an artfully framed crotch shot, I’m your guy, chief.”

Fucking shit… Why does this guy have to be so goddamn likable? What’s he supposed to do with that, huh?

However, Dean’s satisfied he has avoided a fucking disaster today. He had to stomp that teeny tiny flame between Y/N and Benny before it threatened to become a house fire that would’ve burned down the director’s carefully laid plans. Crisis averted. For now, at least. That camera guy better keeps it in his pants before Dean fires his ass.

The roller rink is a fucking nightmare.

It’s loud, there are annoying happy people everywhere, the 70s disco music is godawful, the lights are too bright and flashy, and Y/N has decided to wear the shortest skirt and tightest shirt in history. It’s all a swirl of baby pink and blue on legs that go on for miles, a sweet candy waiting for him to be unwrapped.

It’s not about sex, however. It’s just what Dean tells himself whenever he’s not in a pathetic enough mood to mull over love shit. Honestly, his plastic heart would take anything from her at this point like a goddamn orphan. A smile, a touch, a look, a fucking feeling.  

On the contrary, Dean gets to stand on the sidelines while watching yet another woman he loves perfect her flirting game with one of his camera operators. Of course, Benny has shown up. It just seems to be Dean’s luck. Unfortunately, the guy’s not an idiot and realized fairly quickly what a catch Y/N is. How fucking great…

Dean knows it’s not the same as his last marriage, though, because Y/N doesn’t officially belong to him. He hasn’t claimed her yet, not that it ever truly helps, but it’s not even his fault since Y/N’s ironically his cockblock, too. The fact that she isn’t his should make all of this better, but it honestly just feels worse. Whispered gossip among the women has already informed him that Benny actually asked her out on a date, and it rips Dean’s heart apart, knowing the cameraman is probably the better choice for her.

Maybe he needs to let go, let her go, stop holding onto her like an obsessed stalker. He shouldn’t try to tame and cage a wolf. They belong in the wild. They’re supposed to run free and not obey some master.

As Dean leans against the wooden railing and nurses a beer, watching the girls have fun in the rink, Y/N elegantly rolls his way, a beaming smile on her face as she halts in front of him.

“Hi, boss!” After her greeting, she swiftly kneels down, her skirt hiking up a bit and exposing more of her sun-kissed thighs as she fixes the laces on her skates.

Dean can’t help the smile that curves his lips. “Enjoying yourself, Alma?”

“Yes!” She beams brightly as she straightens on her skates again, resting her palms on the railing next to his. “And I think the better question is if you’re having a good time, boss?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles and sends her a warm smile. “Ruby shared her reefer earlier with me, so I’m good. Don’t worry about me, alright? Just enjoy yourself.”

“Alright,” Y/N accepts his answer, smiling, probably reckoning he’s in a better mood now than this morning.  

“Hey, uh, I heard from some of the girls that Benny asked you out,” Dean brings up and clears the obnoxious lump in his throat. “You know, I can talk to him if he makes you uncomfortable?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to. It’s fine, really,” she brushes him off.

“So what, you’re actually thinking about fucking that guy?” Dean’s brow furrows, throat tightening. Oh, he so doesn’t like this universe. Why would she even consider going out with that dirtbag if he’s right here and waiting for her?

Y/N narrows her eyes, the creases showing a bit of anger as she crosses her arms over her shirt. “What? No! No one said anything about sleeping with him. It’s just a harmless date,” she defends, averting her sour look to the parquet.

“Good,” Dean grits, trying his hardest to swallow all the furious jealousy down, and smacks his lips. “‘Cause it’s against the rules, y’know?”

“Right, the rules,” she scoffs a sarcastic chuckle and grimly meets his gaze, a few angry tears brimming in her orbs. “I’m not a slut, you know.”

Dean’s heart fucking free-falls to his boots, his pupils widening in shock. “Y/N, no, I never said-… Of course, you’re not,” he splutters, vividly shaking his head, and sees her shoulders lose a bit of tension, seemingly believing him. It hurts him that she’d even think that. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just-… those guys I hired aren’t exactly top-shelf. You can do a lot better than that. They’re all sleazy, alright? I mean, Benny shot porn before this. Did he tell you that?”

Her brow crinkles. “He did?”

Dean nods heavily. “Oh, yeah. You don’t wanna be porn girl again, do you?”

“No, guess not.” She pouts and lets out a deep sigh.

God, he’s a genius. Can you hear him triumphantly cackling on the inside? He can play her like a fiddle. Although Dean does feel a little guilty now. He doesn’t want her to be unhappy, quite the opposite actually, so he sighs as well and scratches the back of his neck. “But, hey, if you still wanna go out with him, I’m not gonna stand in your way, alright? Promise.”

He supposes he can endure one harmless date. They’re probably going to bore each other to death, anyway. It’s a test, a trust fall. Dean knows she’ll come to her senses and run into his arms eventually. Right? Right…

“No, it’s fine.” Y/N sighs and offers him a soft smile, soothing his heartache.

“You know, uh, Claire missed hanging out with you last week. Would be great if you could stop by some time again for dinner,” Dean mentions with a not-so-subtle clear of his throat. He probably shouldn’t use his kid like that, but Claire actually does miss her, so it’s only half a lie.

“Sure you didn’t miss me a little, too?” Y/N teases him, a mischievous smile adorning her bubblegum lips.

Choking lightly, he swallows, unconvincingly shaking his head. “Nope. Didn’t even notice you were gone, to be honest. Unlike you, I do have a life outside of this show.”

Y/N bites back a snort, nodding. “Yeah, I know. Well… I missed hanging out with you.”

“Oh.” Dean’s raised brow reaches his hairline, something she seems to find quite amusing, judging by her cute little giggle. “Well, hey, if you want, we can hang out tonight? The Griffith is putting on a Pink Floyd laser show. You always said you wanted to go. Pretty sure Ruby has some acid in her limo for a nice trip,” he proposes with a cheeky wink.

“It’s Meg’s birthday, Dean. We can hang out at the pool party tonight and go next week,” she suggests, and Dean knows she doesn’t want to leave her friend alone, which he sort of gets, although he wishes he wouldn’t.  

Jesus fuck, when did he become so soft and understanding? Caring is fucking annoying.

“C’mon, ditch the lame party,” Dean encourages her, his lopsided smile almost convincing enough as she hesitantly nibbles on her lower lip. “Come be a rebel without a cause with me, huh? Be the Judy to my Jim, Wood to my Dean.”

“Tempting,” Y/N laughs. “Especially since I played Maria in West Side Story back in Omaha. God, I love Natalie Wood.”

“Not the least bit surprised,” Dean chuckles. Why does she have to be so fucking adorable? It’s not fair.

“But we both know we can’t leave Meg alone with the wayward sisters, or she might tear them apart.”

“Y/N!” On cue, Meg clumsily rolls to her on skates and seeks balance on her shoulders, hazel eyes wide and frightened. “Charlie wants me to blow out candles. I don’t like fire.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N soothes and squeezes wolf girl’s hand. “We do it together, alright? I’ll be right next to you. It’s nice and fun. Promise.” As she shoos Meg back towards the other girls, Y/N spins around one last time and finds his waiting green eyes. “Uh, sorry, De… Raincheck, okay? We’ll hang out tonight, though.”

“Sure.” Dean nods resolutely and sends her an understanding smile.

The roller rink is so fun!

Y/N can’t remember the last time she was in one of these places, but it was surely back in high school. A night she probably spent talking and laughing with Jo because they were still thick as thieves back then.

God knows Y/N could use a real friend right now. While she’s certainly close with the other girls, Meg and Donna being her closest, she’s not sure if she can entirely confide in them – not about her night with Dean a month ago, at least. Jo had always been the one she talked to about her boy problems. And now, Y/N feels alone and lost in a maze of wrong choices and bad ideas.

Her thoughts have wandered back to that night with Dean many times since then, her mind always ending up more conflicted than before. The predominant fear of ruining everything she’s worked so hard for makes her stop in her tracks every time. Sure, it’s just one single fuck. Who gives a shit? Nothing bad can happen, right?

Ha, yeah, Y/N almost believed and fell for that old trick again, too.

What she truly needs is a cleanse. She needs to get the director out of her goddamn system, which is why a date with Benny would seem like a good idea. But he also works with her, which screams complications, especially since she’s not really interested in dating someone in all seriousness. She doesn’t want to date any guy right now, and if she did, her choice would still land on Dean, which is an insanely bad idea as well.

Dean’s not exactly Prince Charming, unless Charming was twice divorced and had a severe drinking and drug problem. Still, she finds herself attracted to him, to his body, his mind, and his entire being. Dean is a magnetic field she can’t fight or tear herself away from. One thing’s sure, though, nun life ain’t it. Nun life only leads to desperation, which leads to bad decisions. Bad decisions like the director.

Y/N believes all she needs right now is easy, simple peacefulness, not wild, passionate chaos. And Dean’s definitely a whirlwind of chaos.

Whenever she imagined her dream guy, the one she’d marry, he’d be some nice man, maybe managing a Radio Shack somewhere and tinkering on little inventions in the garage. He’d be more like her dad, who loves to listen to country music while driving his pick-up and openly shows kindness wherever and whenever he can. Her dream guy would’ve held open doors, known how to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ or ‘bless you’ when she sneezed.

Dean’s not exactly that guy. On the contrary, he’s actually the complete opposite. And yet, she’s never been more attracted to a man her whole life. But what would her life even look like with him by her side? Not to mention, she’s not even sure the director would ever want a real relationship with her that goes beyond sex. The idea alone even sounds silly. Utterly ridiculous.

After Meg reluctantly blew out her candles, the women chatted and laughed for a while. Missouri forced Y/N to eat two slices of red velvet cake while Ruby leaned against her shoulder and whined about being so constipated she wasn’t sure she could shove a dick up there, too. All in all, it was a pretty typical evening for the girls before they started to pack up and decided to move the party to the motel pool.

As Y/N slips into her white sneakers and ties her shoelaces on a bench, the opening notes of ABBA’s Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! begin flowing through the speakers, just as Get Down Tonight has run its course, and the flashy disco lights turn from pink to midnight blue. The scarred actress, on the other hand, refuses to make a little love and get down tonight, and please, for the love of God, don’t give her more fucking men…

But just as she thinks of her demons, one of them approaches her with a smile.

“Hi, cher.” Benny gives her a nod, his cheeks blushing and blue eyes sparkling. Honestly, no matter what Dean has tried to sell her, the camera operator still seems like a nice and decent guy. Besides, it’s a little hard to find a man in Hollywood without a few flaws. “I can give you a ride back to the motel if you’d like?”

“Oh, uhm–”

“Not necessary,” Dean cuts in like lightning with a sharp tone and an even sharper look as he suddenly appears next to her, startling her on the bench so much so that she almost jumps out of her skin. God, where did he even come from? Was he behind her this whole time? “I’m taking her,” the director announces, his scathing look ensuring he left no room for discussions.

“Why don’t we just let the lady decide for herself who she wants to ride with, chief?” Benny challenges his employer.

Y/N momentarily forgets how to breathe as she watches the two men. Are they fighting over her? That has never happened to her before, and she can’t understand for the life of her why it’s happening right now. She’s not that special, and frankly, she feels like she’s in the middle of a Mexican cock fight, only there are no actual chickens or roosters in this one. Yet, she can’t help the heat that spreads through her cheeks. Who wouldn’t feel flattered by two good-looking men fighting over one’s attention?

And admittedly, Dean staring Benny down, with a deathly glare that could murder entire villages, does unspeakable things to her, his defined jawline clenched and his throbbing muscles ripe with tension. She squeezes her thighs together, hoping the wetness that pools in her panties won’t trickle down her legs and draw unwanted attention. She doesn’t know if it’s raging jealousy or sweet protectiveness or whatever the hell it is that has the director so wound up, but it’s definitely a new form of kryptonite for her.

Think of your job, think of your career, think about the girls…

“You wanna ride with me, sweetheart?” Dean holds out his palm, an irresistible smile on his ample lips.

God, she wants to say yes to him so fucking badly. What the hell is she supposed to do? As her dad would say, “The Lord’s testing you today, baby girl.”  

“Hey, Y/N? Wanna ride back with me?” Jo’s heavenly voice pipes up as she appears out of nowhere, glowing like her guardian angel. Y/N releases the breath she’s been holding in, staring lost between the two men. “Figured we could talk a little,” the blonde smiles.

“Yeah, uh, I’d love to,” Y/N instantly accepts the life buoy and pulls herself back to shore, her lungs filling with fresh air.

“Don’t you have a fucking baby to go home to?” Dean bites and narrows his eyes at her former friend, whereas Benny has already given up completely and accepted it won’t be happening.

“Don’t you have a teenager to go home to?” Jo retorts, unfazed by Dean’s scowl.

“Nope, she’s right here,” Dean smirks triumphantly and thumbs to a dark corner of the rink where Claire is violently making out with her boyfriend, close to dry-humping each other in public.

“Oh, yeah, you completely seem to have that under control,” Jo deadpans with a roll of her hazel eyes and then links her arm with her former best friend’s, dragging her towards the exit. “Alright, we’ll see you losers later.”

Y/N sends Dean an apologetic shrug over her shoulder. He mirrors her gesture and licks his lips, his chest looking a bit deflated.

“Figured you could use the help. You looked the same way when Artie Ketch asked you to dance at our junior prom. You made that face again,” Jo lists her reasons for her heroics as the women reach the parking lot.

Y/N smiles gratefully, a familiar warmth she’s known since childhood spreading in her gut. “Thank you.”

Jo matches her smile and bashfully shrugs. “You’re welcome.”

Part 18 – I Hate Myself For Loving You

Hope you enjoyed the first part of this batch! Chapters are a little longer this time around, but then there’s only four either, so I guess it all evens out. See you tomorrow for the next one and please lemme know all your precious thoughts! 🤩🖤

Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration @jessjad @deans-spinster-witch @mrsjenniferwinchester @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @wayward-dreamer @foxyjwls007 @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @globetrotter28 @b3autyfuldisast3r @deansbbyx @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @eevvvaa @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @estelle127 @samanddeansannoyingsis @fictional-affairs @sarasolros​

[little-diable]

Mine to Claim - Dean Winchester (smut)

While I'm still wondering if I should write for James Beaufort, I decided to run with the enemies to lovers theme for Dean. I know y'all love jealous Dean as much as I do. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader wants Sam to have a nice birthday, but all she can focus on is Dean, the man she had always sworn to hate, the man who gets all possessive as soon as somebody else finds her interesting enough to chat her up.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, thigh riding, full on jealous Dean, Dean's a bit of a dick in the beginning, possessiveness, fluffy end

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (about 4k words)

“A party? And who should we invite, huh?” Dean’s voice filled the library. He had his feet placed on the table, arms crossed in front of his chest while nursing his second beer of the night. 

(Y/n) had her eyes focused on the laptop, typing away as she tried to pierce ideas together to celebrate Sam’s birthday. But while she was set on putting something special together, trying to trap the man she couldn’t stand into helping her, Dean could only give room to annoying comments. 

“How about some werewolves, vampires maybe or a wendigo to make this exciting!” Sarcasm dripped from Dean’s words, leaving her groaning as she finally looked at the handsome Winchester brother. The two of them had never been fans of one another, but while (y/n) generally tried to keep her distance, Dean was set on annoying her at any given chance. She had lost count of the dates he had ruined for her, the friendships she had tried to build but had been torn down by him, no matter what she tried to do, Dean was always right there to cross her plans.

“Have you always been such an asshole or have you just not outgrown your teenager phase yet?” She shifted her weight onto her forearms while staring at Dean as if he was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. His eyes had a twinkle to them as he mimicked her movements, taking his feet off the table to lean further towards her. 

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, we both know you enjoy our dynamic more than you let others believe. You have never been good at hiding your crush on me.” The angry scoff clawing through (y/n) forced a chuckle out of Dean, who looked at her as if he had just goaled a win. Whenever he managed to rile her up, to get her angrier by the second, his smirk would grow as if he was proud of himself for getting under her skin like that. 

“Fuck you, Dean!” She rose to her feet, unexpectedly to Dean who now studied her with confusion laced in his gaze. “I’ll just take Sam out for dinner, anywhere without you near will be good enough.” 

(Y/n) tried to walk past him with angry tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn’t manage to get far, forced to a halt by the hand clamping down on her wrist. Dean stared up at her with an unreadable expression, shooting shudders down her spine while she tried to rip herself free. Something inside of her told her that he was close to apologising, urged on by the guilt he may feel, but the moment passed within seconds, forcing his smirk back to his lips.

“Dream of me tonight, sweetheart. But first, tell me, do you still sleep in my shirt?” The angry huff clawing through her made Dean chuckle, watching her rip herself free before storming out of the room. Her heart was aching in her chest, pounding against her ribs while her feet carried her towards her room. 

With her laptop tossed onto her bed, (y/n) allowed her tears to fall, urged on by her anger and confusion, torn between the way she had always detested Dean and the silent longing for him and his closeness. God, she hated him, hated him more than words could ever express, and yet a small, fucked up part of her wanted him and every part of him. 

It was time to finally get over Dean Winchester and the confusing emotions he pushed through her. 

……

“Thank you for this, (y/n). This is by far the best birthday I ever had.” Sam squeezed her shoulder as she looked up at him with a proud grin. She shot Sam another smile before she let her gaze wander, finding Dean’s frame. Even though she had tried to lure Sam away from his brother, knowing that the night wouldn’t end well if she and Dean would have to spend it together, Sam had begged her to take his brother with them, ending up at this very bar.

“Let me get you another beer, birthday boy. I’ll be back in a second.” (Y/n) rose to her feet with an unwavering smile, pushing past a few people to reach the bar. Music rang in her ears, not loud enough to leave her body buzzing, yet just enough to distract her from her wandering thoughts. 

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice forced her attention away from the bartender, waiting for her to make her way towards (y/n). A guy was standing close to her, he was a bit taller than her, a handsome face she smiled at. “Is that your boyfriend?”

He tilted his head towards Sam, leaving her chuckling as (y/n) shook her head no. A relieved smile managed to find its way to the guy’s lips, he was visibly relaxing while taking a step closer. Even though her body begged her to chase the distance, her mind urged her to stay right where she was, reminding her of her promise to finally find a distraction from Dean Winchester.

“Are you from around here?” She kept her voice quiet as she studied the guy, the plaid shirt he wore and those dark jeans that had a similar touch to the ones Dean currently wore. For a second, she let her eyes wander, not paying attention to the words the guy spoke, but Dean was nowhere to be found, disappearing from her sight. 

“It’s my friend’s birthday today, so I’ll have to get back to him.” (Y/n) mumbled while she shot the guy another smile. She turned towards the bartender to speak her order before the guy could gain her attention again, with his phone in his hand.

“Give me your number, maybe I can take you out for dinner or something?” The soft chuckle leaving her made him smile, watching her type her number into his phone before reaching for the two bottles of beer. She took a step away from him, with her gaze still focused on him, but the second she turned away, (y/n) stumbled into a broad chest, having to tighten her grasp on the bottles before she could drop them. 

Wide eyes found a pair of familiar green ones, getting lost in the darkening pupils for a moment or two. Dean’s jaw muscles were ticking in anger as his gaze flickered between (y/n) and the guy she had been talking to. It took her a moment to rip herself out of her frozen state before she tried to push past Dean, though without any luck. 

“What did he want from you?” Dean’s voice had something to it she couldn’t pinpoint, something that left her insides churning; something that left her straightening her spine. Her eyes wandered over his angry features, allowing her to take in his handsome features. If he weren’t such an asshole to her, she would have instantly fallen hard for him, begging the man for a chance to love him like he deserved to be loved. 

“That’s nothing of your concern, Dean. Let me go.” But Dean didn’t give in, he tightened his grip on her arm to pull her even closer. 

“Oh, but we both know that it is, sweetheart.” She couldn’t find a reply, the words were stolen right from her as his lips graced her warm cheek with his eyes set on the guy who was still watching the two. And with another squeeze of her arm, he finally let go of her, only to gently push her into Sam’s direction. 

……

She woke with a groan, forcing her eyes open to take in the darkness surrounding her. Slowly, (y/n) rolled onto her side to reach for her phone, reading the time. It was in the middle of the night, only a few hours after they had found their way back home from the bar. 

Since that moment with Dean, (y/n) had been deep in thought, not understanding the way he had behaved at the bar. She crawled out of her bed with a sigh, set on grabbing a new glass of water to clear her thoughts. Still surrounded by darkness, she made her way to the kitchen, carried by tired limbs that begged her to make it back to bed. 

“I knew you were still stealing my shirts.” Dean’s voice left her jumping, ripping a squeal out of her as she turned towards him. He was leaning against the table, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes set on her frame. Heat rose to her features as she remembered that she was once again wearing a shirt of his, and nothing more. 

“You jerk, why do you always have to scare me like that?” He walked closer to her, allowing her to find his pupils. His chest was almost pushed against hers while he wordlessly stared down at (y/n). She was close to speaking up again, set on throwing another insult his way to get herself out of this situation before she could say or do something stupid. But the second his hands found her waist to heave her onto the cold kitchen island, she forgot every word she had planned to speak. 

“Did that guy call you?” His voice was raspy, making goosebumps appear on her exposed skin. (Y/n) could barely focus on his voice, distracted by the feeling of Dean lingering between her spread thighs and the way he grasped her hips with his big hands. 

“Maybe he did, so what?” His tongue kissed his teeth while he pondered over her words, staring at (y/n) with something she’d dream of for a while. It felt like heaven and hell were clashing, forcing them to balance a strong energy neither had felt before. It drew them closer with every passing second, growing between them while both could only endure its strength. 

“You’ll lose his number.” It was a simple command, words that drew a soft laugh out of (y/n) while she shook her head no. A laugh that lost its strength as Dean’s big hand found her throat, forcing her to quiet down. Her pupils grew wider at the touch, drawing a shaky breath out of (y/n). “He’ll never have you.”

“And you will?” She could only whisper her question, words that left Dean smirking as he dipped his head down. He was close to kissing her, lips ghosting over hers while her heart picked up its beat. 

“We both know that I already have you.” With one last squeeze of her throat, Dean pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips before letting go of her. (Y/n) was at loss for words, could only watch him take another step away from her with his teeth buried in his grinning lower lip, front still turned in her direction. 

(Y/n) needed a handful of seconds before she snapped into motion, jumping off the metallic kitchen island to haul herself into his space, lips finding his with her arms wrapped around his neck. Dean instantly replied to the kiss with one hand placed on her waist and the other cupping the back of her head to keep her close. Their tongues met to deepen the kiss, leaving both groaning at the new sensation. 

“I belong to nobody and if you keep on being such an asshole to me, you’ll be the last person to ever have me.” She mumbled the words against his lips before pushing him away, leaving Dean breathless while she walked back to her room with a smile glued to her slightly swollen lips. 

……

Music filled her room, cozying (y/n) along while she was reading. It had been hours since her kiss with Dean, a memory that left her buzzing with nerves whenever her mind took her back to those minutes. She was proud of herself for finding the confidence at that time, for pushing him away after a kiss she longed to experience again. 

His lips had felt all too soft, a perfect kiss she had always read of in books but had never experienced herself–until that very moment. He had tasted of beer and home, a strange sensation she hadn’t been able to shake so far. 

A soft knock forced her out of her thoughts, eyes flickering towards her door to watch Dean step into the room. They hadn’t shared a single word since that kiss, while she had hid herself in her room, Dean had given her enough space to sort through the chaos both were stuck in now. 

He closed the door behind himself before walking towards her bed. (Y/n) could only watch as he plopped down on her bed, gently taking her book to place it on her nightstand before pulling her into his chest. She could hear his heart racing as both were laying there in silence. 

“What are you doing, Dean?” (Y/n) shifted on his chest, eyes finding his while he kept his hand placed on her side. He stayed quiet, seemingly deep in thought with his eyes set on the ceiling rather than her face. 

(Y/n) barely allowed herself to properly look at Dean, to take in the beauty of the man who made her feel the most confusing emotions imaginable. She wanted to count his freckles, every single one of them reminding her of a galaxy million of lightyears away, each telling its own story. She wanted to get lost in the green eyes reminding her of a forest that had seen the most gruesome things and yet still managed to offer a home to those needing shelter. She wanted to kiss those plush lips again that made her feel more alive than she had ever felt before.

“I,” he cleared his throat as if he was trying to rip himself out of a trap, forcing his eyes back down to meet hers. “Somewhere along the way, since meeting you, I’ve realised that it’s much easier to rile you up, to annoy you and have you as an enemy rather than admit my feelings to you but also to myself. From the first day we met you at that diner, I knew I had found my match, the one who finally belongs to me. But fuck, my anxiety got the best of me, and I began spiralling. It was fucking immature of me, but I couldn’t stop, not as long as I couldn’t accept that I’ve loved you for years.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she pondered over his confession, the words that cut deeper than she liked to admit. Dean’s thumb wiped away her falling tear while tightening his grip on her. Both were choked up, struggling to keep on speaking as silence engulfed them once again. The seconds kept fading by, moments she desperately needed to sort through her confusion, the words she wanted to speak but was unsure of. 

“And you’re ready to accept it now?” (Y/n)’s voice trembled, buzzing through her body like lightning set on burning holes into her skin. Dean’s hand stroked up her spine until he found the back of her neck, pressing (y/n) close to kiss her softly. It took her a few seconds to let her lips move, tongues meeting much slower than they had for their first kiss.

“If you’ll let me love you like you deserve to be loved, I am ready to accept it and fight for it.” A part of her knew that she should leave his side, kick him out of the room, and curse him for thinking she’d ever give him a chance, but the other, bigger part, begged her to give in, to finally grasp this chance she had silently hoped for whenever her anger turned into desperation and longings. 

“Kiss me, Dean.” He didn’t need to be told twice. Dean dipped his head down to kiss her with one hand finding her cheek. It wasn’t a soft kiss, fuelled by unspoken emotions and longings, and yet both took their time to properly explore their newfound territory. Carefully, Dean pushed her off his chest to hover over her with one leg finding its way between her thighs.

They didn’t break the kiss as he softly pressed his thigh against her heat, drawing a moan from (y/n) at the sudden contact. Heat buzzed through her body, down her spine and straight to her pulsing bundle. (Y/n) tried to push herself closer, moving with just enough strength to moan once again. 

“Can you make yourself cum on my thigh, sweetheart? Show me how much you need to be touched.” Her eyes found his stormy ones, getting lost in the rich colour for a second before a shaky exhale left her. (Y/n) pulled Dean down for another kiss while she moved against his thigh again, supported by him as he met her movements with more urgency.

Her body was burning, shaking from the excitement she couldn’t let go of; the anticipation pushing her towards the edge she’d fall from at least two times that day. Dean kissed his way down her throat, sucking on the spots that made her arch her back off the mattress. Goosebumps covered her body while she lost grip on reality, allowing her body to move without her mind’s guidance while searching for that high she could already feel creeping closer. 

“Such a good girl, look at how perfect you look, fuck, I can’t wait to see you all done with my cock buried inside of you.” He rasped the words against her ear, forcing (y/n)’s hands to find his forearms to hold on, clawing her fingernails into his skin. She was close already, about to let go with his name rolling off her tongue as the fabric offered just enough friction to make her gasp. 

His name rolled off her tongue as she came, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, toes curled. Dean could only stare down at her, mesmerised by the sight he’d take to the grave, forever remembering the first time he made her cum. With his lips meeting hers again, he managed to rip her out of her hazy daze, forcing her hands to move as they tugged on his shirt. 

They parted for a moment, allowing Dean to get rid of his shirt and his trousers, while she mimicked his movements, undressing herself with trembling fingers. Her mind was racing, leaving her buzzing as it slowly began to dawn on her what was about to happen, that she was about to let the man she had hated for years fuck her. 

“Tell me you want this as much as I do. I won’t touch you otherwise.” Dean’s murmured words made a smile widen on her lips. Even though she struggled to reply, eyes and mind fully focused on his naked body, the muscles she wanted to kiss, the cock that grew harder with every passing second, she parted her swollen lips. 

“I want you, Dean, mark me up.” With his grin glued to his lips, he watched her reach for a condom, rolling it down his cock to draw a soft groan from him. They held eye contact as he positioned himself on top of her, letting his fingers brush through her dripping slit for a moment before finally pushing into her. 

Groans and moans left the two at the new sensation, with her walls fluttering around him and his cock disappearing further and further inside of her. Dean pressed his forehead against hers as a deep exhale left her as if she needed to relax, to tell herself that everything was alright. He moved slowly, careful at first, giving (y/n) enough time to adjust while their bodies kept meeting with every thrust. 

“Fuck, you feel so perfect.” Dean’s words drew a small chuckle out of (y/n). Her arms found their way around his neck, letting her fingernails scratch at his skin on their way up his neck. The second she found his roots to tug on them, Dean added more speed to his thrusts, set on leaving marks just like she had asked him to. 

She was about to moan his name, about to beg Dean to move faster, but the sound of her ringing phone forced her attention away from him. For a second, his pace began to falter, but then a smirk widened on his lips. 

“Who is it?” Her wide eyes found their way back to his. 

“The guy from the bar.” She was breathless, struggled to reply while a desperate whine left her. She needed Dean to move again, to push her closer to the edge with his cock buried deep inside of her. 

“Pick up.” Confusion was laced in her gaze as she watched Dean reach for the phone. He answered the call before he pushed it into her direction. They held eye contact as he began to move once again, fucking her even deeper than before.

“Hi, (y/n). I wanted to ask if you’re free tonight? I’d like to take you out for dinner.” (Y/n) struggled to stop her moans from leaving her, not wanting to give away what she and Dean were currently doing–even though Dean was clearly set on proving to the guy that she was now taken. 

“Hi, listen,” Dean’s thrust met her swollen spot the second she began speaking, drawing a moan from her she couldn’t bite down. Embarrassment was about to flush through her, widening her pupils while Dean’s smirk kept growing bigger. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Another moan left her as Dean met that spot again and again, letting the phone fall from her hands while hoping that the guy would simply hang up. No longer could she care about anything but the way Dean fucked her, letting his fingers meet her pulsing bundle to give her the needed push. 

“Cum for me, baby.” His lips met hers as she came, swallowing her moans while he fucked her through the sensation. (Y/n)’s body was buzzing, trembling beneath Dean as he searched his own high with fast thrusts that left her whimpering. He came with a groan moments later, thrown over the edge. 

“Fuck, that was something.” His husky words left her chuckling. She watched him roll off her to get rid of the condom before finding his way back to her bed. Dean’s warmth engulfed her, his arms pulled her against his chest as he pressed a kiss to her hairline. 

“We still have to talk about all of this.” (Y/n) whispered words drew a hum from Dean, who found himself being pulled back into his hazy thoughts. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness, I promise, sweetheart.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his, studying the unreadable expression he wore. 

“As long as you keep touching me like that I’m sure we’ll find a way.”

[em-ontv]

Eyes on you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: To get information for a case, you had to speak to a witness at a bar. However, the guy was way too interested in you for Dean's liking, and Dean could only watch.

Warnings: established relationship, bits of alcohol mentioned, the guy is sort of a creep, Dean getting jealous, neck kisses at the end. English isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, this was kind of rushed, sorry!

Word count: 974

It had been two hours. Two long, agonizing hours in this small town bar, and Dean was starting to believe that he was going to lose his mind.

It was just another case, but he wasn't sure if he was going to make it out alive. Not because of demons or ghouls—no, he was losing his sanity because he had to watch some cocky idiot openly flirt with you while you played your role.

You were leaning against a table, your fake smile wide and charming, while this guy—Rick or Ron, something with an 'R', some mechanic—was eyeing you up like he just hit the jackpot.

To be fair, you were stunning, and Dean knew that. Knew it too well, actually. But did this guy really have to act like that? Flirty smirk, voice dripping with innuendo, staring at you like you were the best thing to ever happen to his sorry existence. Practically undressing you with his eyes like he couldn't wait to get his grubby little hands on you.

And Dean, standing a few feet away, could only watch the whole thing unfold with an expression of absolute suffering.

He had to play it cool. Had to let you do your thing, ask the guy questions, get the information you both needed for the case.

But oh, the way Rick-whatever-his-name-was leaned in closer to you, that smirk on his face? Dean's hand twitched, his jaw clenched, and every fiber of his being was telling him to just walk over there, throw his arm around your waist, and glare the dude into oblivion if he was lucky. If he wasn't? Maybe he'll throw a left-hook... maybe two.

But no, he couldn't. Because professionalism.

His fingers drummed against the side of his glass, the cheap alcohol did nothing to cool him down. You were across the room, laughing at something Rick said—which was definitely not funny.

Dean took a deep breath, jaw tightening. His eyes narrowed as he watched 'Rick' give you a grin that was just a little too wide. His hand brushed against your arm. And Dean saw red. If he had to listen to one more word of this idiot’s weak attempts to flirt, he was going to lose it.

Because yeah, sure, you were undercover. Yeah, you had to pretend that you were nothing more than a waitress while Dean had to pretend like he was just some dude passing through. But come on. This guy? This guy with his greasy hair and his cheap cologne? The way he was looking at you like you were a steak fresh off the grill and he was starving?

Dean’s hands clenched around the glass, knuckles going white. He watched as Rick leaned in closer, his voice dropping into what was clearly his best attempt at a suave tone. Dean could almost hear it from where he was sitting.

"You know," Rick drawled. "You’re way too pretty to be just a bartender. Bet you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, though." He winked. He winked.

Dean’s head dropped back, and he mentally started banging it against the nearest wall. He could feel the frustration bubbling up inside him, fighting to escape in a snarky comment underneath his breath…

He risked another glance at you. You caught his eyes from across the bar and gave him the tiniest smirk.

Oh, you were enjoying this.

His patience hung by a thread as Rick leaned even closer—his gaze drifting over you like you were his to admire.

To Dean, this was torture. Pure torture.

Finally—finally—you wrapped up the conversation, you leaned back, giving the guy a polite smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "Thanks for the info," you said smoothly. "But I think I've got everything I need."

You turned and walked off, leaving Rick blinking, still stuck in whatever daydream he was having about you and eventually losing sight of you in the crowds of people passing by.

Dean exhaled hard through his nose as you slid into the booth across from him. You didn’t say anything at first, just sipped your drink, clearly enjoying the way his eyes were practically burning holes in the wall.

"You okay there, sweetheart?" you asked, pretending to be oblivious.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "Me? Oh yeah. I’m just peachy. That guy? Total professional. Definitely didn’t want to strangle him with his own shoelaces."

You raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. "Come on, you know we needed the information."

"Yeah, well, next time, maybe I’ll be the one doing the questioning," he grumbled, shooting another glare in the guy's direction. "So you can just stay put."

You just smirked, leaning across the table. "Dean Winchester, are you jealous?"

Dean’s eyes narrowed at you. "Jealous—? No. I just didn’t like the guy’s face. Or his voice. Or the way he was staring at you."

You leaned back, your smile turning softer. "Don’t worry," you said, your voice dropping just a little. "You’re the only one I’m thinking about."

Dean’s frustration melted away in an instant. His lips twitched up into a smile as he let out a breath, his body finally relaxing. "Damn right," he muttered, leaning back in the booth, his usual confidence sliding back into place. "Still, if he so much as look at you again—"

"I know," you rolled your eyes, smiling as you took another sip of your drink. "You’ll wrap yourself around me like a jealous octopus."

"You know me too well."

"Someone has to."

And when the two of you got back to the motel, Dean practically threw himself at you, arms around your waist as buried his face into your neck, kissing every inch of your skin like a starved man, smiling like a fool when you ran your fingers through his hair, earning a hum of content from him.

[walkinthrudaisies]

Primadonna Girl

dean winchester x fem!reader

1.1k | fluff

summary: you and dean couldn’t be anymore different. but that’s why he loves you so much.

*loosely based on the song Primadonna by Marina and the Diamonds

sam couldn’t help but smile anytime he saw you and dean together.

the two of you couldn’t have been anymore different. yet, you two somehow ended up in a relationship. a year and a half long relationship that is.

dean winchester had always been rough around the edges. even as a young boy, people would look at dean and know to not get in his way, to not get him angry or the outcome wouldn’t be pleasant. his wardrobe always consisted of leather jackets, flannels, and big boots. something some people would find intimidating.

that had followed him into his teen years, and most importantly, as an adult. growing up with a berating father who saw you as nothing but a soldier didn’t help, and dean was sometimes jealous of sam for how level headed he was.

the thing was, you couldn’t be anymore opposite. growing up, you were as bubbly as a shaked can of soda. always laughing, smile on your face 24/7, and a knack for anything feminine.

you were a girl after all, and you couldn’t help but love anything that had to do with lace or dangling bows from wherever you could place them.

the narrative that a girl being hyper feminine and — for lack of better words — girly in nature was dumb or didn’t amount to much always made you angry. a girl could do anything a man could do if she was wearing slouchy jeans and a flannel or platform shoes and a skirt. it wasn’t how you presented yourself, it was your integrity, and how hard your drive to help people was.

crossing paths with the winchester brothers was never on your bucket list. you had heard too many stories of how those boys started more than one apocalypse, how they had a way of ending up in hell every other month. with your knowledge, you didn’t want anything to do with that.

if it wasn’t for you running into them on a case, you would have never given them a second thought. but you’d realized how dedicated the two were, how kind and how they were all around sweet boys. so you stayed. bonding with sam over your love for books and how you were both severely lactose intolerant.

dean on the other hand, he was harder to crack than his giant of a brother. the first couple of months the man did nothing but berate you. finding any chance he could to make a jab in your direction. you honestly thought he hated your guts, only for sam to finally admit that this was how his brother acted when he really liked a girl.

that same night, you confronted him. spewing multitudes on how treating a girl like that just because you have feelings for her is something a middle schooler would do. what you were not expecting was for dean to wrap his arms around your waist and press his lips roughly to yours.

since then, you two have been inseparable. sam couldn’t help but snicker when he caught his brother carrying around your purse, or walking behind you like a lost puppy. dean was wrapped around your finger, and anyone with eyes and a brain could notice it.

sam most importantly didn’t hold back in telling dean how whipped he truly was. all the older winchester did was keep on going with a smile on his face. knowing he’d do anything to just be near you.

all of this lead you two to this very moment, a calm night in the bunker as you and dean sat in his so called ‘dean cave’. on the couch and watching some cheesy teen drama on the flat screen tv.

you were sat in dean’s lap, legs moved sideways over his as he played with the lace trimming on your black knee high tights. dean’s grey henley and dark, plaid pyjama pants were in no synchronization with your frilled, white skirt and your big, fleeced, dark pink sweater.

the two of you were sat in a serene silence, eyes averted to the tv while dean’s fingers travelled up your calf and your hands found purchase in the tuffs of his hair.

neither of you had noticed sam’s figure in the doorway until you heard startle of laughter. looking up, you both saw sam leaned on the door frame, shit eating grin forming on his face as he analyzed the scene playing out in front of him.

“wow,” he started, shaking his head and having a strand of hair fall in his eyes. “if someone told me you’d be all domestic like this five years ago dean i would’ve laughed in their face.”

all dean did was roll his eyes, pulling you impossibly closer and nuzzling his face in your neck. promptly ignoring his brothers annoying remarks while also being in close contact to you. what else could he possibly need at the moment?

you just laughed, shooing sam away and watching him turn around a giggle all the way to his room. when the younger winchester was out of sight, dean moved his head so he could plant multiple kisses all over your face.

a squeal tore through your lips as you jokingly attempted to push him away, only spurring dean to hold on tighter to your legs as his mouth placed two sloppy kisses on both of your cheeks.

somehow in the midst of loud laughter and entangled limbs, you had ended up on top of dean. legs straddling his waist as he moved his hands from the top of your stockings to hold on tightly to your waist.

your hair had created a curtain around his face, and all he could see at the moment was your radiating smile and gorgeous coloured eyes. with a slight tug at his lips, he moved his hands under your sweater to soothingly move his hands up and down your skin. “you are the best thing to ever happen to me, sweetheart.”

a smile broke out onto your face, pressing a quick kiss to dean’s forehead before lying down and cuddling up to his chest.

all the winchester could do was hold you tighter, relishing in the fact that he had you. you, the greatest thing to ever come to him. dean sometimes thought he didn’t deserve you, that you were too good for him in so many different ways. but when you let him hold you like this, kiss your face and see you in any way possible, he knew that pushing you away would be the stupidest thing he’s ever done.

“i love you, dean.” you murmured, eyes back on the tv as his deft fingers on your back was calming you down. if possible, dean’s smile got even bigger. moving down to put a soft kiss on your head as he whispered back, “i love you too, Y/N.”

[123passwort]

He does get jealous

You had resigned yourself to the fact that Dean simply didn't get jealous, that is until Garth being Garth hosts a get together for hunters and you run into one of your exes that you're still on good terms with.

Warnings: um cursing, mentions of sexual themes

So first and foremost you knew Dean loved you. There was not a sliver of a doubt in your mind to that man's devotion to you. You knew for a fact that he'd choose you over any other woman. Did that stop you from getting jealous? No.

No matter how hard you tried that little voice in your head would pop up rather it be on cases where witnesses would flirt a little too much or even just grabbing a bite to eat on the road where the waitress would let her eyes linger a little too hard on him.

Dean would always notice it of course. On cases he'd grab your arm to "pull you away and discuss the matter at hand" which normally consisted of a quick kiss and promises of what was to come later. Off of a hunt he'd have no qualms about pulling you into his lap in the middle of a diner to prove that he was taken no matter your blushing or Sam's groans of embarrassment.

The problem was he never got jealous. Ok yeah sometimes jealousy is a major red flag that you need to heed and run far away as fast as you can but a part of you started to wonder if maybe he just didn't register to be jealous over you?

You woke up and reached for Dean smiling to yourself when his hands met yours halfway pulling you into his arms. "Morning sweetheart" he mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep.

You placed a kiss to his chest "Good morning. Don't forget we have to leave here around ten to make it to Garth's in time" you couldn't help but laugh lightly when he groaned "Why are we doing this again?"

You pulled away from him just enough to lean up slightly to look at his face. A steady sprinkling of stubble covered his jawline and although his eyes were closed you knew he was tracking your every movement "Because hunters are always going to exist and its our job to make sure the next poor saps that get yanked into this life have a better system. C'mon baby Jody, Donna and all the girls will be there. Eileen is meeting us there, Kenzie is coming with Alicia and Max. It'll be fun. A weekend with people in the life just getting to catch our breath and catch up with people we haven't seen in a while"

When his response was a simple "mhh" you raised an eyebrow before adding "Bobby would be proud of it" he opened one eye to look at you but his gaze immediately went to where the sheet had slipped down off your chest leaving your breasts peeking out "If you weren't so damn gorgeous and right about this I may argue about going" a smile slipped onto your face "I love you too Dean"

He glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the nightstand and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head "It's seven thirty" you nodded slowly "Yeah" he reached out to gently grab your chin "We don't have to leave until ten?" You nodded again, eyes never leaving his. "So we have time"

"For what?" You asked innocently enough despite knowing exactly where his mind was. One of his hands dipped underneath the sheet and you gasped when you felt his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh "We have time for me to show my girl how much I love her" you pretended to consider it until his fingers went higher demanding your full attention when the first digit slipped through your folds "Fuck Dean" you whispered before a grin split his face "Exactly my idea"

"A lot more people showed up then Garth figured would" you leaned up at Sam's words because you knew him well enough to recognize a laugh being buried. What was so funny?

You looked at the cars parked around and about. There was Jody's suv, Donna's truck and the twins' car. There were more vehicles you recognized but weren't quite as familiar with. You were about to question Sam when you followed his line of vision and spotted Sawyer's bronco parked next to Eileen's car.

Sawyer was one of your exes. A hunter as well and someone you'd still consider a friend. You hadn't seen him in a few years but you felt a bit of excitement at getting to catch up. "Oh I didn't know Saw would be here" you spoke with a grin as Dean pulled baby to a stop. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek "C'mon. Let's go socialize"

----------

Dean had recognized that damn bronco the moment he turned into the clearing reserved for parking next to the cabins. Sawyer Monroe. A pretty decent hunter if he had to be honest and the only guy you'd ever dated before him that you wouldn't knock out on sight.

Thinking about it he wasn't sure you'd ever mentioned exactly why you and Sawyer had split. Hell you'd known him and Sam for years meaning he knew how you'd once felt about Sawyer. You'd even talked to Bobby about the guy.

Seeing the grin on your face when you spotted his bronco made something pull in Dean's chest. He wasn't jealous, no you were with him. You were a woman that knew what you wanted and wouldn't accept anything else. Yet trailing behind you towards the crowd that was gathered around and about he couldn't help but keep his eyes out for your ex.

There were tents around and about, a few grills going and a set up with speakers and a dance floor area. It looked almost like a wedding set up with the cabins being avaliable for anyone who needed overnights. Or a reunion of sorts.

"Kenzie!" You spotted her, Alicia and Max so you headed that way feeling Dean's hand resting at your lower back while you made your way through the crowd. Sam had already split off with Eileen and Donna so it was up to you to get the elder Winchester to actually enjoy the gathering.

She turned at the sound of your voice "Y/N!" She pulled you into a hug shooting a wink at Dean "Heya Winchester. I see you've actually managed to keep this one. I'm impressed. If you hadn't acted when you did I would've asked her out" "Very funny" he laughed watching as you went from Kenzie to Alicia to Max hugging all three of them.

----------

"So how have you been?" Alicia asked glancing towards where Max and Dean had headed in search of drinks. "Good. Dean's amazing of course. I don't think I've ever loved someone like I love him"

Before she could respond you heard a voice behind you say "Oh ouch. That hurt" you'd know that voice anywhere. You spun around to see Sawyer standing not even a foot away. "Hello to you too Mr Monroe!"

He stopped right before he got to you "A hug ok?" You nodded and he scooped you up into a hug. Sawyer was around Dean's height with chestnut brown hair that curled at a certain length and hazel blue eyes.

He was a sweet guy and one of the few you'd dated and stayed on good terms with. It'd been one those situations where you both knew the relationship had hit its end. When he put you back down on the dirt you laughed "I see you're still a fucking giant oaf" he shrugged one shoulder "Why change now Darling? Now where's this fella who you love more than anyone cause I wanna know where I'm ranked in the book of Y/N"

You felt an arm slip around your waist and laughed as you leaned back against Dean's chest "Sawyer I'm sure you remember Dean. Dean you remember Sawyer" the two greeted each other with a quick handshake "One of Bobby's boys" Sawyer commented and Dean nodded "Yeah. We met a time or two while you and Y/N were dating"

Sawyer cut his eyes at you "Well she was just telling Alicia how much she loves you so I'm glad to see she's happy" "We both are" you glanced back at Dean but he simply smiled at you "Anyways..what's on the schedule for this thing? Garth was pretty vague"

---------

Ok so maybe a small nip of jealousy hit Dean when he looked over to see you in Sawyer's embrace. It was a simple hug, that was all. Just as you'd hugged everyone else. Did it bother him seeing Sawyer hold you? Yeah. But it was just the fact that he wasn't sure if Sawyer knew you two were together. He didn't want him to get the wrong idea about the hug. That was all it was.

When he walked up behind you and slipped an arm around your waist he felt his heart flip a bit when you leaned into his embrace and did a quick reintroduction between the two men.

When you steered the conversation towards Garth's plans he stayed quiet keeping an arm around you and watching how Sawyer looked at you as you cracked jokes with Alicia and Kenzie. No, he wasn't jealous at all.

You were enjoying yourself. The banter and familiarity of so many hunters in one place was something nearly intoxicating. Most of your lives were lived in solitude. Hunting was a lonely life and being able to wind down with friends, people you considered family also that actually understood that? It was a beautiful thing.

Dean was talking to Garth, Sam and a few other hunters while you mingled with Donna, Jody and the girls. "I see Sawyer is here" Jody teased with a laugh. "Yeah we saw each other already" you replied.

"Who's Sawyer?" Claire asked and before you could open your mouth Jody explained "Y/N's ex before Dean. Her only real serious ex before him"

Claire's eyes widened "Ohhhh I bet Dean is jealous as hell" you scoffed with a roll of your eyes "Dean Winchester? Jealous? I've been with him this long and have yet to see it" Donna and Jody exchanged a look "We didn't just step into relationship issues did we?"

You shook your head "No. Me and Dean are happy, really. It just seems like at times he's incapable of getting jealous so I feel like a crazy woman when it perks it's little slimey head up in me" "I bet he gets jealous and just hides it" Alex offered but you shook your head then shrugged "Next subject? Something that isn't my relationship insecurities?"

Chatting and catching up had given way to a spread of food being laid out, a damn near open bar setting up and music playing through the speakers sat around and about.

You were sitting next to Dean laughing at Claire who'd nearly dropped Kaia when she attempted to dip her. "Think you can do it better?" Claire teased so you cut your eyes at Dean who shrugged one shoulder "Go for it sweetheart"

You glanced, spotting Max near the bar so you whistled "Banes?" When he glanced up you motioned towards the girls "Wanna teach these young ones how it's done?" He raised an eyebrow as he walked towards you and Dean "Am I leading or are you?" "Claire thinks I can't dip someone" a broad grin split his face "Oh its on then Novak"

----------

Dean watched as you spun Max around the dance floor. Several people had stopped to watch probably just from the height difference between the two of you. This was something you and Max had long since perfected, you both would take turns leading. When it came time for you to dip Max despite the height difference you successfully dipped him, spun him out then the two of you switched leads.

This was why he hadn't really gotten too upset when you'd spoken with Sawyer early. He knew you were his, you were happy with him. He had no reason to get jealous, right?

He heard Donna call his name and was quickly pulled into a conversation with her, Isaiah and Jody. "So how's things going?" Donna asked glancing back towards the dance floor. Jody smirked at him "Ya know Garth already has this set up..would be perfect for a ceremony of any sorts" he knew she was teasing but he also knew he'd be lying to himself if he hadn't already thought about a future between the two of you. He loved you and for some reason unknown to him you loved him too. "Yeah it would be" he replied causing a laugh to slip out of Isaiah at the look on the two women's faces.

Somewhere along the line you'd lost Max to David who cited he wanted his boyfriend back. You pulled Kenzie onto the dance floor next laughing when she insisted on leading.

You spotted Sawyer at the edge of the crowd, nursing a beer. You spun around with Kenzie a few times until Alicia cut in and you were left partnerless.

"On the off chance I may have a Winchester gunning for me, care to dance?" You turned to look up at Sawyer and shrugged. Dean never got jealous, so chances were Saw would be safe. "Well cmon then Monroe. Let's see if you've lost any steps"

He hesitated before touching your waist so you grabbed his hands with a light laugh placing them where both Max and Kenzie had touched you. "See? No harm, no foul" the two of you started to dance and you found yourself humming along with the song. It was one Dean played a lot.

"So you and Dean...can't say I'm surprised" you raised your eyes to look at him "Why is that?" He shrugged moving your arm that was resting on his shoulder slightly "He always seemed smitten with you. No other hunter compared to you, he was always talking about ya even when we were together"

"So what was that about calling him one of Bobby's boys?" You asked with a grin "Could I really say oh yeah of course I know Dean Winchester. One of the best hunters that's ever walked. The one man who I knew the first moment I saw you around him that we'd never last in the long run" "oh come on now Saw. We were good together for a while. We just got to a point.." you trailed off and he leaned down just enough to be eye level with you "That we both knew we'd be better as friends?" You nodded "Yeah cause if we'd dragged it out we would've ended up hating each other"

He smiled "I have no hard feelings love. You're happy with him. That's all I've ever wanted for you. Plus I'm seeing someone, her names Genya. She lives in New Orleans. I think you'd like her. We been together about six months now"

"Why didn't she come?" You asked and he smiled "Her coven had a ceremony she was presiding over" you could feel how wide your smile was at that news "She's a witch? Oh I love her already" he laughed loudly, the sound echoing around the two of you "C'mon now Y/N, you've got Dean. You can't have my girl too"

The sound of Sawyer's laughter hit Dean's ears over the music and conversations around him. When he followed the sound with his eyes he felt a flame flickering to life in his chest.

Sawyer's hands on your waist, your hands on his shoulders. Your faces close, laughter falling from him and a broad smile lightening your features.

"What the hell?" He meant to think it, not to let any anger slip into his voice or posture but it was clear to anyone who knew him and considering he was still fairly close physically to both Jody and Donna needless to say those two knew him pretty damn well. No, not quite anger. He'd felt that plenty in his life and this wasn't it. No this was jealousy, no other word could come close to the reasoning behind the flush to his skin or the torrent of thoughts running through his mind.

----------

One minute you were swaying to the music with Sawyer and the next you felt two hands on your waist pulling you away from Saw and causing you to collide with a broad chest.

Your hands flew out to brace yourself and the moment they collided with the body under them your eyes flew up to meet the green eyes staring down at you. When had Dean stripped out of his flannel? Why was he glaring at Sawyer over your head and when had this t-shirt gotten so tight across him?

"Baby, everything ok?" The thought occurred to you that maybe something was wrong but the look in his eyes didn't scream something was up, no he was jealous. No. Dean didn't get jealous, or did he?

"Dean?" Sawyer tried and you could see the muscles clenching in Dean's jaw as his hands gripped your waist firmly. "I need to talk to Y/N for a minute..that good with you?" Sawyer cut his eyes at you and you almost missed the slight twitch upwards his lips did before he said "Of course" before saying "Good night darling. It was good seeing you. I'm leaving bright and early but I'll ring ya once I hit Louisiana"

You could feel the heat radiating off Dean when you turned to give Sawyer a hug "Don't be a stranger and drive safe" the moment you released Sawyer Dean was leading you off the dance floor with a hand on your lower back.

"So what's the problem?" You asked once the two of you had cleared the crowd. Some of the cabins were already taken but there was enough for everyone. You saw the impala so you started to walk towards it, hearing Dean huff slightly behind you.

You made it to the impala and turned to face Dean. "Baby, do you remember your words?" He was silent but moved closer to you, he laid a hand on either side of your shoulders his palms flattening on the roof of the car and effectively trapping you between it and his own body.

"What's wrong with me?" He asked finally, leaning down close enough you could smell the scent of his cologne mingling with the whiskey he'd drank. You nodded slowly knowing he could smell the same brand of whiskey on your own breath from shared kiss and you stealing his drink earlier in the night. "Yeah, you pulled me off the dance floor and lead me out here into the dark. Now what are you planning to do to me Winchester?"

He scoffed, a smirk slipping onto his face "You get jealous if a waitress calls me handsome or if a witness asks to be interviewed by me yet you're asking what's wrong and what I plan to do?" You could feel your heart flip and heat rush into your lower stomach at his words. Oh, he was jealous

"Is it because I was dancing with Sawyer?" He didn't respond,instead he stepped even closer moving his lips to your neck to barely let them brush over the sensitive skin there.

"Is it because another man had their hands on me?" You asked when his hands went from the roof to your hips pulling you close enough the heat from his body had every inch of you feeling like it was on fire "Can we pick a cabin, head in and talk?" He finally spoke before connecting his lips to your neck sucking the skin right over your pulse, no doubt leaving a mark it his wake but you could've cared less considering it took every ounce of self control you had to not let out the moan trying to escape your lips.

You knew you were pushing it but also wanted to relish in the moment of finally catching Dean jealous. "Or do you only get jealous when you know it's someone who's had me under them? Someone who knows what I taste like?" You swallowed hard before leaning up to place a kiss to Dean's neck, feeling his pulse under your lips.

"Someone who knows what I sound like?" You whispered into his ear and couldn't help but feel your heart skip when his demeanor changed. You could feel the hard steel of the impala under your back when he pushed you backwards just slightly but considering he'd also chosen that moment to kiss you like a drowning man coming up for air you lost any sort of sense or control you'd had.

He moved from your lips to your jaw then down your neck. He went from kissing to biting the areas he knew would make you go weak. "I would rather do this in a cabin but you know I hold nothing against fucking you in baby" you let out a breathy moan when he hit a certain spot "Wait...stop for a second"

You knew that's all you needed to say. He froze in his tracks but for a split second you saw the uncertainty in his eyes. That small flash of self loathing that you always found buried under any sort of jealous streak. You'd never noticed it before on him. "Tell me why you're acting like this"

He took a deep breath letting his fingers slip under your shirt to tease at the waist of your jeans slightly. He wasn't trying to unsnap them or even reach under them, more so it seemed like he was trying to remind himself you were in his arms. "Sawyer knows you. He's a decent guy, you were happy with him. He knows what you look like under these jeans that I love on you, he knows what it feels like for your nails to cut into his shoulders when you're hitting that peak.." he groaned letting his head fall over onto your shoulder "I'm not some jealous, controlling asshole but I'll be damned if that didn't do something to me"

"You're jealous?" You whispered and he finally raised his eyes to meet yours again. "Yes sweetheart I'm jealous as hell. Rather you see it or not I get jealous a lot. Now please for the love of everything can I either climb into the impala with you or find a cabin and remind myself I'm the only one who gets to touch you, taste you, feel you. I just need to feel you clinging onto me, moaning my damn name and maybe just maybe I can fuck you good enough you won't get jealous as often either. I love you more than I ever knew possible but right now? I want to fuck you until neither of us can even remember another man or woman's name"

You swallowed hard at his confession, feeling your body react to the promise in his words. "In that case let's find a cabin"

@globetrotter28

[whimsyfinny]

Fix Your Attitude

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: (Y/n) is just like an other woman trying to function in this fucked up world - and she's starts her day with coffee. At least that was always the plan until Dean interfered.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fingering, PinV, slightly Dom! Dean, and if you squint there's maybe possessive/jealous Dean

MDNI! 18+

Word Count: 4470

A/N: So this is technically my first ever one shot! Woop! I've written this as part of my competition from a few weeks back, and this is for the wonderful winner @spookyysinsanity ! Hope you enjoyyy.

“Seriously, Dean? What the actual fuck!?” The audacity of the older Winchester brother had me throwing my hands up in frustration, my irritable tone bouncing off the walls in the kitchen and landing on ears that couldn’t possibly care any less.

“Should’ve got here sooner, sweetheart. You know how it is; first come first serve,” he tauntingly raised his coffee mug to my dishevelled figure standing over the empty coffee pot. The lack of caffeinated bean-water had brought a panic-sweat to my temples, knowing all too well how things would pan out if I didn’t get what I needed.

“How many cups have you had?”

“What?” He blinked frustratingly slowly - he knew what I’d asked.

“Jerk - I said ‘how many cups have you had’?”

“Hmmm…” he tapped his finger against the side of the mug, lips pursing over feigned thoughts.

“DEAN.”

“Maybe… three?” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly - although the nonchalant bubble popped when a sly smirk slipped through the cracks. My mouth opened and closed a few times, words forming and disappearing too rapidly through my mind to even make it past my lips as desperation sizzled into rage.

“You DICK!”

“Hey don’t yell at me - just make another pot,” he held his hands up defensively.

My eyes flitted over to the empty tin on the side - an empty tin left tauntingly in plain sight.

“You know damn well I can’t do that! We’re out of coffee, totally out. Zilch. Nothing. Empty.”

“Well,” he lifted his mug to his lips, “not totally empty.”

“What do you- oh…OH,” I felt my razor sharp glare zero in on the mug at his lips - there had to be at least half a cup in there with how little he had to tilt it up before taking a gulp. I took a step forward and jabbed my finger towards the prize.

“Give me that.”

He offered me nothing but raised eyebrows and a loud slurp.

“Dean.”

Again, silence only echoed back, however my frustration towards him started to buzz in my head as he slowly lowered the mug to unveil a slap-worthy grin.

“DEAN.”

He gently placed the mug on the table and turned to me, large arms crossing over his broad chest as he settled in his chair, thighs spreading wide for comfort.

“Wow, I thought I was grouchy in the mornings before coffee but damn, sweetheart you’re really claiming first place with that one.”

I took a step closer, my eyes practically burning a hole in the cup next to him on the table. His grin widened as he noticed me stalking forwards, like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. However my prey was incredibly suspecting and, in all honesty, not really prey at all. My bare feet padded quietly towards him, each tentative step raising more suspicion in Dean as my desperation for caffeine became all-consuming and my honed hunting skills became sloppy. I gave myself away when I tore my gaze from the mug and glanced over at Dean, catching his amused smirk and playful eyes before I lunged forward, hands grasping at air where the liquid-treasure should have been. Spinning on my heel after almost colliding with the table I turned to face Dean, now standing a few steps behind me with one hand wrapped around the ceramic and the other dipping lazily into the pocket of his jeans.

“Come on darlin’ you’re better than that.”

“Fuck you.”

A low whistle floated in the air between us before he tutted at me, shaking his head slowly.

“So mean.”

“Says you!”

“Hey I got here first - I'm the victim here. You're the one trying to rob me.”

“Don't play that game - you are not the victim here. All of your bullshit has been calculated,” I narrowed my eyes up at him as he traced his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Maybe it has been. Not much you can do about it now though is there?” His eyes glinted like the tricksters before he took another gulp of his coffee. I could feel my palms growing sweaty in apprehension, knowing all too well that the coffee level was dropping inside that cup.

Time to try a different approach. Something more… tactical.

“You know…” I pulled a lock of hair between my fingers, twirling it around, “you're my favourite Winchester.”

I paused and he raised his eyebrows, suspecting yet silently urging for more.

“Sam is just so nice and tall but…” I quietly stepped towards him, inwardly cheering when he made no attempt to move away.

“But?”

“But I mean look at you, so ruggedly handsome… and with that authentic ‘tough guy’ personality to make all the ladies swoon. And don't even get me started on these broad shoulders and big arms of yours…” I padded around him, tracing a single finger delicately up one arm, over the back of his shoulders and down the other arm. I almost missed the small shiver that ghosted over his skin and raised the hairs on his exposed forearms.

“Oh, so you like what you see?” He raised an eyebrow, his voice subtly dropping to a deeper tone.

I chewed my bottom lip slightly before stopping in front of him, a hair's breadth away. From here I could smell the masculine scent of his cologne - the same one I'd only ever known him to wear - and the subtle, intoxicating scent of leather and gunpowder. Combined, those three items were the very essence of Dean, the warmth of it all clinging to his clothes and practically seeping from his pores. I couldn't stop myself from taking a deep breath and letting the hypnotic scent travel straight to my brain. He’d always smelt divine, but I was never going to give him the satisfactory access to that information.

Upon tilting my head up to lock eyes with him, I could feel his coffee-scented breath fan over my face, the smell of what I wanted most almost making my mouth water. I couldn't let myself become enveloped in the addictive haze around him - I needed to remember what I was here for without letting myself become distracted.

Evergreen eyes flitted between mine, unsure of my next move. But the more I looked into them, the more dilated his pupils became. I couldn't help but grin a little to myself, relishing in his reaction.

“Come on Dean, just hand over the coffee. I know deep down that you really want to…”

He hummed, the sound a little gravelly as it emanated from his chest.

“You see sweetheart,” he smirked a little as he gripped the mug, lifting it to his lips. The action immediately caused me to take an urgent step forwards, a part of me truly believing that he would drain the cup right there and then. He must've seen the panic jolt through me as he released a small, breathy laugh.

“I see what?”

“You see… I don't think it's coffee that you need to stop being such a bitch in the morning.”

My eyes immediately narrowed towards him at his choice of words. He can make it so easy to look past his good looks when he acts like such an ass.

“What the actual fuck does that mean?”

“Oh I think you know what it means.”

“Fuck you, Dean.”

“If you want.”

“Go to- wait what?” I felt my heart leap in my chest, my mind unsure if I wanted to have heard him correctly.

His smirk spread across his face as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his mossy green gaze dragging over my figure as though I were totally naked.

“You heard me,” he took a step forward, his boots heavy on the hard kitchen floor. My cheeks burned, and I wasn't sure if it was from whatever scandalous thoughts of him I'd pushed to the back of my mind that I never intended to humour, or the rage bubbling to the surface at the sheer audacity from him, thinking I'd just accept this sort of shitty attitude.

“You’re crazy if you think that I’d let you in my pants,” the bewilderment in my voice was evident, and so was the growing frustration. This conversation had taken a wild turn and it’s safe to say that I didn’t like the direction it was headed. It was a rocky path of buried desires and a cocky male ego - a male ego that somehow knew what buttons to press to get my temper sizzling.

“Oh but sweetheart I could make it so good…” his voice was like caramel, becoming harder to ignore as he took another step forward, backing me into the table. I swallowed the almost nervous lump that had started to form in my throat, my heart rate quickening with every second he looked at me with those darkening eyes.

“And why would you want to do that?” I did well at hiding the slight nervous wobble in my voice. He chuckled slightly before breaking eye contact and looking down at his boots, thinking for a moment before shooting his eyes back to me, his intense gaze burning into mine.

“Because for once, I’d love to see that smart mouth of yours moan my name.”

I couldn’t stop that small gasp that escaped between my parted lips at his sudden bold statement, and that small gasp seemed to be all that it took to invite Dean in. In one fluid movement he drained the remainder of the coffee into his mouth and took a final step forward, closing the gap between us and wrapped a single strong arm around my waist, pulling me firmly against his body. His other hand quickly discarded the mug before grasping my face, his thumb pushing into my cheek and urging me to open my mouth. Before I was able to conjure a single thought he’d pulled my mouth to his, his plush lips covering mine before transferring that mouthful of coffee over to me. My eyes widened at the sudden appearance of warm liquid gliding over my tongue, the flavour of coffee, sweetened with sugar, would have soothed my senses if it wasn’t for the way it was administered. I hurriedly swallowed it down, not caring for the trickle that escaped the corner of my lips, now more preoccupied with Dean Winchesters mouth pressing onto mine. He allowed one… two… three heated kisses before pulling away, leaving me gasping and gripping the edge of the table for dear life. As he pulled away, he released his grip on my jaw, spotting the trickle of coffee and catching the droplets with his thumb. I didn’t intend to dwell on the action too much, at least not until he pushed his coffee-coated thumb past my lips and into my mouth, pressing lightly on my tongue. Still taken aback by the kiss, I stared up at him dumbly, my mind simultaneously racing whilst emptying itself of all logical thoughts. On instinct, I licked the coffee from his thumb, hearing a gruff hum of approval from him.

“Look at you - quiet for once.”

Before I could retaliate to his comment he pulled his thumb from my mouth and grasped my jaw again, a little softer this time as he guided my face to his. His lips grazed mine as he spoke.

“Have you finished acting like a bitch?”

I nodded.

“Are you sure? Because I think I should fuck you on this table here - just to be sure.”

The involuntary shiver that shimmied down my spine gave my innermost thoughts away when Dean noticed it; another smirk gracing his lips as he pulled himself between my knees and grasped under my thighs to lift me onto the table. I hissed slightly as the cold surface bit at my bare rear, the oversized Metallica t-shirt doing nothing to shield me as it rode up on my hips. There was a short moment, like a breath taken and held as we paused to look at each other. His eyes darkened like a forest at dusk, piercing into my own before studying my lips. I found myself doing the same to him, watching how his gaze darted up and down, frantic to find a focal point on my face whilst his lips parted, tongue poking out to wet them. We shared each other's hot coffee-scented breath, my heartbeat starting to echo in my ears as my blood began to run hot at the thought of him taking me right here on this table. He chewed slightly on his bottom lip, the fantasies of my own prurient mind running rampant at what that mouth was capable of doing to me. What I undeniably wanted it to do to me. Before another thought appeared he hastily leaned in and planted a searing kiss on my neck, his stubble tickling my ear whilst one large, strong hand planted itself just below my shoulder blades; his whole arm crushing me against him. Everything he did made me want to purr. His lips exceeded expectations as he kissed red-hot paths up and down my neck; my skin prickling when he pressed his lips below my ear and jaw, pulling pathetic whimpers from my lungs. He kneaded the silky-soft flesh of my thigh with his other hand, eventually causing me to gently hook my legs around him to ease the desperate need to writhe at his every touch.

“Dean…” his name left my lips as an airy gasp when the hand on my thigh travelled up, his thumb hooking under the waistband of my panties.

“What happened to that big, tough girl persona? Can’t really take it huh?” His taunting words went straight to my brain when he spoke them with his lips pressed right to my ear.

“Fuck, Dean… I hate you.”

He chuckled, placing a kiss on my cheek before uttering over my lips:

“Of course you do, sweetheart.”

As his sentence ceased as his mouth claimed mine, muffling the moan bubbling in my throat as his tongue pushed against my own. I reached one hand up to tug on his hair, dragging my nails across his scalp when the strands at the base of his skull were too short to grasp. He groaned into the kiss, lips moving faster at the sensation of my fingertips. His broad chest became a resting spot for my other hand, the taught muscle flexing beneath soft skin as I glided my delicate fingers up to clutch his shoulder. It was like being in a trance; the only thing I was capable of thinking about was him. Dean. The strength of his hand on my back contrasting the tenderness of the one on my thigh. The heat of his mouth, his tongue on mine, consuming my gasps and ragged breaths. His devouring reduced me to naught but lustful putty in his arms, especially when an assured hand slid from my hip to my ribs and a gentle thumb smoothed over the softness of the underside of my breast. The feather-light touch caused goosebumps to erupt on my skin, the warmth of his palm doing nothing to soothe them away. When a groan passed my lips at his actions, he gripped tighter, my legs instinctively pulling him closer. This time it was Dean that groaned, as pulling him towards me had pressed the ever-growing bulge in his jeans against the soft cotton of my panties. The sensation was electric, igniting the fiery ache between my legs as my thighs twitched when he didn't pull away - instead pushing himself against me harder. I sucked in a breath where I could, his lips refusing to leave mine, even to let me breathe. He was hungry. Animalistic. Dominating. I don't know what I'd been imagining when I was alone in my room in the depths of night, but this… this was something I'd never fantasised about. How commanding he was, how he pulled me in with stern words and an air of authority. Gone was the boyish charm and playful pickup lines - this was something that could easily suck me in and pull me under. He could drown me in sharp comments and tantalising games.

And I would let him.

“Look at you, twitching like a virgin,” he pulled away enough to huskily speak against the corner of my mouth. I moaned slightly, biting my lip when his thumb moved from the underside of my breast to my nipple, delicately toying with the perky skin.

“Who's to say I'm not?” My voice was more breathy than I'd anticipated, my head lolling back when he started to trail kisses down my neck again. My comment pulled a laugh from his chest, the sound almost cutting through the sexual haze.

“Oh darlin’, don't think I don't know about your motel room escapades - I was always in the room next to yours,” he finally pulled back slightly to look at me, the cool air flooding between us in his absence. As my eyes met his, my heart hammered in my chest at the raw blackness of his irises - pupils blown wide with hot arousal and leaving no soft greens in sight. I could feel my cheeks heating up with embarrassment, realisation creeping in. Dean took it all in with a grin on his lips.

“That's right sweetheart - I heard it all. Every little noise you made when those jerk-offs touched you. When they tried to make you feel good,” his smile faltered slightly before he leaned in a little closer, “but you know, I never heard any of them make you cum. I only ever heard you finish when they were gone and you were all alone.”

He pressed more of those red-hot kisses just below my jaw, the hand on my breast descending, trailing a path down the soft skin of my abdomen before disappearing down the front of my panties. A moan tore from my throat when he slid his skilled fingers through my folds to gather my pooling wetness, his hum of approval ringing in my ears when my mind emptied at his fingers tracing circles around my clit. My grip on him was vice-like, whimpers already tumbling off my tongue.

“You know (Y/n), you should've just come to me. You should've told those useless bastards to fuck off and let me do everything you needed me to do,” his breath was hot against my neck as he spoke, and he finished his sentence off by finally pressing a rough finger against my clit. I whined like a bitch in heat as he went around and around and around, making me clench around nothing and crave him in his entirety.

“I would've done this to you every night - made you forget everything but my name.”

“Dean…”

“Thas’right sweetheart. Never would've left you unsatisfied.”

“Please, Dean… please… I need you to fuck me,” my words were desperate and I could tell he relished in that, suddenly plunging two thick digits inside me without so much as a word. My hands flew to his back, nails digging into broad muscle as I leaned into him, burying my flushed face into his neck and breathing in his intoxicating scent. He curled his fingers up and pushed against the pleasure-cushion inside me, knowing exactly what to look for and what to do with it. My legs tightened even more around him as I was unable to stop the euphoric twitches jolting through my limbs. He removed his hand that was pressed below my shoulder blades and lifted it to my hair, unclipping the claw-grip to let the unruliness tumble out. He practically chucked the plastic clip to the table before threading his fingers through my hair, grasping close to my scalp before tugging my head back to make me look at him.

“Now that you've dropped your attitude and asked nicely, I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk.”

He pressed his fingers inside me one final time, drawing another pathetic whimper from my lips before pulling his fingers out and lifting them to his lips. I watched, mouth agape and breaths ragged as he licked my slick from his digits, savouring the taste of me with a satisfied groan.

“That’s the best shit I’ve ever tasted,” his deep, gravelly tone had me reaching desperately for his belt buckle as Dean claimed my mouth again, his own eagerness starting to show. As I finished unzipping his jeans I pushed them down his hips just enough to dip my hand into his boxers and pull his cock free. A deep moan pushed its way into my mouth as I curled my fingers around his length, his size already intimidating as his cock rested hot and heavy in my palm. I wasted no time on gripping him tight, starting gentle motions going up and down again, and again, and again, causing Dean to move both hands to my thighs - his grip on me threatening to leave bruises. I dragged my thumb over his tip, urging a blissful shudder to surge through him as I smeared the gathering precum up and down his length. His lips never once left mine. I could feel him becoming breathless as I slowly increased the speed of my hand, so I caught his bottom lip between my teeth as a means to pull away for a moment. As I breathed in his contented groan, I pulled back slightly further to get a look at his face.

“Dean… Dean please - I need you inside me-”

“Stop fucking around then and c’mere.”

I squeaked a little at his harsh tone, unable to stop the next words from tumbling out.

“Yessir.”

I watched his brows knit together and his eyes almost roll before he dropped his head to my neck, grabbing the underside of my thighs and dragging me right to the edge of the table. With one hand he grabbed his cock and used it to move my underwear to one side before lining up and sinking in. The lascivious moans that spilled from our lips were almost harmonious, Dean pushing in to the hilt and forcing me to wrap one arm around his neck and the other to prop me up behind me - both stopping me from losing my balance under Deans intensity. Dean looked as though he was getting lost in a sexual haze as he crushed me against him again with one arm, having the decency to remain still for a few moments so I could adjust to his size as he eye-wateringly stretched out my insides - the sensation almost burning.

“Jesus- fuck-” his breath was slightly strained as he groaned into my neck, “now I’m mad that you decided to fuck lonely jerk-offs instead of me - with a pussy like this- shit- I would’ve been crawling back for more.”

He started to move slowly, pulling out gently before slipping back in - easing me into it with sexual expertise.

“Oh fuck- Dean- you don’t mean that-”

“(Y/n) you’d have to shoot me to stop me - you feel too fucking good.”

He started to up the tension - dropping every ounce of softness as he lost control of that part of him. He fucked the same way that he hunted monsters: raw, skilful and always in control - my mind racing with the knowledge of how dangerous this man actually was. He was Dean fucking Winchester, and here he was - fucking me over the breakfast table whilst I wore nothing but a band t-shirt. As he pounded into me and the intensity grew I was unable to stop the lewd noises tumbling from my lips. Such lewd noises however seemed to spur Dean on, the power of his thighs and hips inching the heavy wooden table across the floor.

“How are you still so fucking tight-” his words were almost slurred, his sexually inebriated mind seemingly becoming obsessed.

“Shit- Dean, I’m getting close already,” my eyes squeezed shut as I began to feel that familiar knot in the depths of my core. With every thrust he dragged over every over-sensitive nerve ending, unravelling me quicker than I’d even been unravelled before.

“Oh yeah? You wanna cum?”

I nodded my head vigorously, loose strands of hair falling around my face as tears started to well in my eyes. Dean glanced down at me without so much as a stutter in his hips, a slight grin playing on his lips even in a moment like this.

“Tears?”

“Fuck-fuck- you Dean, it's not my f-fault you're the first one to fuck me properly- oh God-”

“Well I'm glad it was me sweetheart,” he tried to keep up the slightly playful tone but I could see in his eyes that he was on the brink as well. Without another word he moved one hand to push lightly on my lower belly, his thumb dipping down to rub soft circles over that oh-so-sensitive bundle of nerves. I gasped at the contact, Dean taking the opportunity to plant uncharacteristically soft kisses on my parted lips before whispering:

“I need you to cum for me - I need you to let go. I've got you darlin’.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The circles drawn with his thumb increased in speed and as did the pounding of his hips against mine.

“Dean- Dean please-”

I could feel him winding that knot tighter, and tighter, and tighter; lifting the euphoria coursing through my veins to its highest peak before the white-hot heat of orgasmic bliss erupted inside me. Wave after wave after wave of pleasure cascaded down, drowning me in the most earth shattering climax I'd ever experienced. I could feel myself tightening repeatedly around Dean, his thrusts becoming frantic before his own release rolled through him.

“Oh Fuck- (Y/n)-”

His guttural groan into the crook of my neck sent a shiver down my spine and goosebumps across my skin, the sound of him cumming making me clench even tighter around him.

“You squeeze me any tighter darlin’ and you're gonna kill me,”

“I-I’m not- I mean- I'm sorry?”

He groaned again when I twitched slightly, this time he pulled back to look me in the eye, taking note of the drying tear-tracks and smudged mascara.

“You good?”

“Y-yeah, I'm good,” I huffed out a deep, contented sigh, "I am so, so good.”

He grinned, the assertiveness from earlier seeming to dissipate and the good ‘ol Dean was returning.

“Best you've ever had?” His green eyes twinkled mischievously.

I playfully slapped his shoulder, not impacting the smirk on his lips whatsoever.

“Easy there cowboy - if your ego gets any bigger there'll be no living with you.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

I chewed on my bottom lip slightly, making him wait a little for the answer before I replied with a grin of my own.

“Yeah, definitely the best I've ever had.”

————————————————————

Taglist: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200

[adrienneleclerc]

Jealous

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles gets easily jealous when his girlfriend fawns over her fictional or celebrity crushes

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: all the characters and celebrities mentioned are people I find attractive. If you don’t have a crush on them, that’s fine, to each their own

Y/N and Charles were watching American Assassin because Charles wanted to watch an action movie and he has never seen it.

“Ugh, Dylan O’Brien could get it.” Y/N said and Charles turned so fast to look at her.

“What?” Charles asked.

“Dylan O’Brien could get it, he is so fine, I already thought he was cute as Stiles but as Mitch Rapp? Ooh, so fine, I’d let him choke me.” Y/N said, eating chips and Charles just looks at her. “What?”

“Were you always this unhinged?” Charles asked.

“A little, but have you seen his veiny arms when he was being held at gun point? I wanna bite them.” Y/N said and Charles looked at his arms and back at the screen.

“Mon ange, my arms are veiny, you could bite mine.” Charles said.

“I bite yours all the time when we’re not in public. There’s just something about Dylan O’Brien playing Mitch Rapp that does something for me. Like look at those abs.” Y/N said and Charles immediately retaliated with

“I have better abs than him!” Charles exclaimed, making a point by taking off his shirt and standing next to the TV to compare him and Dylan O’Brien

“Ay muñeco, Im teasing, don’t take it too seriously.” Y/N said, pulling him back to the bed and kissing him.

The next time Charles got “jealous” was when Y/N was on TikTok and she saw a video of The Drivers Era performing.

“Ross Lynch es tan guapo, no wonder when he performed in Mexico, todos le estaban diciendo que se encuere.” Y/N said and Charles was brushing his teeth in the bathroom. Charles poked his head out to see Y/N in bed. “What? Ross is 6’1, our height difference is literally perfect.”

“Are you trying to hurt me, Mon ange?” Charles asked before spitting into the sink.

“Of course not muñeco, he’s just a celebrity crush, it’s not like anything will happen.” Y/N commented.

Then it happened again when Charles and Y/N were out with Pierre and Kika. They saw a movie poster for the ministry of ungentlemany warfare.

“We should see this movie, the trailer looks amazing.” Kika said.

“And so does Henry Cavill, I love how curly his hair is.” Y/N commented.

“Just once I would like to go out and not listen to you talk about other men.” Charles said.

“Whats happening there?” Pierre asked

“Charles gets butthurt when I talk about my celebrity crushes.” Y/N said.

“What do they have that I don’t?” Charles asked.

“Well Ross and Henry are 6 feet tall, Ross plays hockey and I LOVE hockey boys, Henry played field hockey, but you’re taller than Dylan O’Brien, I’ll give you that.” Y/N said and Charles stared at her.

“You weren’t supposed to give me a list!” Charles exclaimed while laughing at how ridiculous this conversation was.

“You literally asked!” Y/N exclaimed. “But I also want to see the movie for Eiza Gonzalez, totally support her making it big in Hollywood.”

“Yes! Loved her in Baby Driver!” Kika said and her and Y/N started talking about movies.

Y/N was watching Supernatural and eating ice cream.

“God I love this episode, he looks so good.” Y/N said. Charles looked at the screen and back at her.

“Really? The Winchester brothers in prison? Isn’t the guy who plays Dean like 50?” Charles asked.

“Um, he’s 46, and he looks good for his age considering he’s white.” Y/N said.

“Cant believe you love Dean Winchester. Why not Sam?” Charles asked.

“I love both Winchester brothers, I just relate to Dean more. And in the later seasons, I don’t like Sam’s hair. But Sam’s hair in season 1 and 2? LOVE.” Y/N said.

“What about my hair?” Charles asked.

“Muñeco, you know how much I love to pull on it when we’re kissing and other stuff.” Y/N says, kissing Charles, running her hands through his hair to make a point, he pulled away.

“Mm, I love when you do that.” Charles said smiling.

“I know you do.” Y/N said, continuing to play with his hair. “There’s no reason to be jealous of my celebrity crushes, okay?“

“I’m not convinced, how about you show me that you’re mine and mine alone.” Charles said, hand wrapped around Y/N’s throat, not applying pressure.

“It would be my pleasure.” Y/N said, holding Charles’s hand to run to their bedroom.

The End

Hope y’all like it!

[kristaloohoo]

Jealous

Dean surprises you by denying something you thought he would find fun.

Dean Winchester x Reader Note: Hello hi it's me again. This is from a big Word document of shorts I wrote. I would like to post a Supernatural long fic but super nervous about posting it. Just happy to post these. <3 Also thank you to everyone who liked my previous post. Made me super happy <3

Dean stood at the register, pulling his wallet out as the cashier rang everything up. She kept looking Dean over and he glanced towards her as she was eyeing him. Once she rang everything up he handed her cash, and her fingers caressed his hand. He perked an eyebrow, but she said, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before handsome.” He gave a simple nod and pointed his thumb out to his car. “Just driving through. Needed to restock on some things.” She licked her lips and counted the cash, pushing buttons on the register, but added, “If you wanna stick around I get off soon. Show you around the town…” He could pick up on her tone, and he gave a chuckle. “Well, thank you for the offer but I don’t think my girlfriend would be a big fan…” She made a face and now he was aware of a set of eyes drilling holes in the back of his head. She pouted and murmured, “Who’s your girlfriend?” He heard footsteps nearing them and he added simply, “It’s the woman walking up behind me…” “Hey, baby. You got everything?” You questioned, grabbing his arm and hugging it. He smiled at you and nodded, but you both glanced at the cashier. She glanced between you to see your happy face, trying to make her oblivious that behind your eyes you were saying, I will shoot you in this store. She then gave you a sly smile and your mind blanked with confusion. She leaned forward a bit as she pushed the bag of items towards you both and whispered, “I don’t mind showing you both around. The more the merrier.” Your face blanked and you could feel Dean tense. His face wiped clean as he took the bag and spoke simply, “Sorry. I don’t play well with others.” Her face fell and with your arms still locked onto his you walked out together. You both walked to the car and you got in, but he was silent and unpacked the snacks you were watching him. He handed you the bag of chips you picked and you questioned, “Dean Winchester turning down threesomes? Are you sick? Do you have a fever?” He snorted as you took the bag of chips and he grabbed his jerky, putting the bag in the back. “Okay yes in the past I would partake, but not with you.” A small smile graced your lips as pulled his seatbelt on and started the car. “Like I said, I don’t share.”

[hintsofhoney]

Don't Forget It

Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: While working a case with Dean, he gets jealous of the way you interact with a suspect and decides to remind you who you belong to.

Tags: 18+, p in v, unprotected sex (be smart), rough sex, jealous dean, spanking, light dom/sub dynamics, sex in a public place, begging, voyeurism if you squint

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Just another finished work that's been sitting in my drive, collecting dust. Beta'd by my loves @makeadealwithdean and @wayward-dreamer; love you both to the moon and back 🤍 GIF is mine. Enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST |  SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST |  MAIN MASTERLIST

You don’t miss the way Dean’s eyebrow raises when you lift one leg to sit on the man’s desk, twirling your hair and batting your eyelashes as you try to get him to confess. You’re fully aware of the way your pencil skirt is riding up, revealing more skin than you care to show to this douchebag probably-murderer, but it’s clear that he’s way more interested in speaking to you than Dean. If it helps move the case along, you can turn on the charm.

Dean’s watching you from the corner of the room as you flirt with the sleazebag, his jaw clenching as he reminds himself that you’re just doing your job, but it doesn’t make him want to remind you who you belong to any less. Especially when you look like that . Tight skirt, the top three buttons of your blouse undone, and then when you lean over pretending to laugh at something this guy had said, he catches a glimpse of your black lace bra, and he finds himself trying not to think about ripping it off of you. Not that it was working.

“You know, you’re a pretty little thing, Agent,” the man smirks, and then he’s reaching for the exposed part of your thigh and you’re wishing he wouldn’t , and Dean clears his throat so loudly it startles the both of you. You hop off the desk as the suspect turns around to look at him.

“I think we’re done here,” Dean says, walking over to the desk and pulling a fake business card with his real phone number on it out of his inner suit jacket pocket. “If you remember anything, Mr. McAnn, give me a call.” He tosses the card carelessly onto his desk.

Mr. McAnn huffs. “Yeah, alright, Agent.”

You and Dean both know the phone call isn’t coming; you’re going to need to find another way to prove the dickhead sitting in front of you murdered his wife — possessed or not.

“Let’s go, Y/N,” Dean grits out, his eyes not leaving Mr. McAnn’s as he walks to the door. You follow suit, and the anger in your boyfriend’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Dean’s already ten steps ahead of you by the time you’re fully out of the office.

“Dean!” you call after him, speed-walking to match his brisk pace down whatever corporate building hallway you were in. “Slow down, I’m in heels!” 

You catch up to him and grab his wrist, spinning him around. 

“The hell’s gotten into you?” 

He huffs in disbelief, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he tongues the inside of his cheek, thinking of how to answer that question. 

“You can’t be serious,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest and raising your eyebrows, realizing what’s gotten his panties in a twist. “I was trying to get him to confess , Dean.”

“I’m not — I know. Okay? But —” he pauses, beginning to stalk towards you, a hunger in his eyes that tells you exactly where this interaction is heading. You nearly trip over yourself as you walk backwards, a soft gasp leaving your lips when your back hits the wall. “Doesn’t mean I like watching you slutting it up for the asshole.” 

He’s got you fully caged in between his arms now, one hand on either side of your shoulders, his face inches away from yours. 

“You’re mine .”

You roll your eyes. As hot as he is when he’s jealous and possessive, it’s not like he can fuck you in this hallway. Plus, he’s being ridiculous anyway. 

“Your point ?” you prod, probably further than you should. 

“My —” he huffs again, his hands back on his hips, shaking his head before looking around. “Oh, I’ll show you my fucking point, sweetheart.”

He grabs your wrist, ignoring your squeal, and drags you a few feet down the hall, turning into the women’s bathroom and locking the door behind him. His eyes quickly scan underneath the three stalls before he determines the two of you are alone. 

“Dean —”

He cuts off your protest with his hands on your waist, walking you back into the nearby sinks before hoisting you up onto the counter. 

“Dean!” you yelp in surprise. 

He pays it no mind as he reaches for your blouse, tearing it open in one quick motion, plastic buttons clattering to the floor.

“Dean!” you scold, and Jesus, how many times can you say his name in different ways in one minute?

He remains unphased, focused on two things and two things only, both of which he reveals as he pulls down the cups of your bra.

“Christ, Y/N,” he breathes, cupping your breasts in his hands as he stares at them like it’s his first time ever seeing boobs. His thumbs flick over both of your nipples at the same time, and you arch your back as a moan escapes you.

“Mm, fuck.”

He leans in, his breath fanning over your earlobe as he continues tweaking your nipples. “Might as well have shown that dickhead in there these fuckin’ tits, the way your shirt was hanging open. Left really fuckin’ little to the imagination, Y/N,” he whispers, drawing more sounds from your throat. “He was probably sitting there thinking about doing all the things I’m doing to you right now. And I don’t like that. That’s my fuckin’ point.” He pinches one of your nipples, a yelp leaving your lips. “Understand?”

You nod, unable to form words.

“I can’t hear you.” He pinches the other peak and pulls a little. 

“Oh — fuck! Yes, I understand,” you answer. “I’m yours, I’m yours.” 

“And don’t forget it.” 

His lips find your breasts, and soon he’s sucking bruises into your skin and teasing your nipples with his tongue. He’s everywhere at once, everywhere but where you really need him, and you’re not sure how much more of this torture you can take.

“Dean, please,” you gasp, and he lets out an irritated grunt as he pulls his mouth off one of your breasts, seeming annoyed that you had interrupted his fun with your begging. You can’t blame him – he’s a boob guy. Especially if they’re your boobs. 

“I’m not done yet,” he states, before resuming his attack – for lack of a better word – on your breasts.

You groan in protest, the heat between your thighs building, and you spread your legs as far as your skirt will allow. The cool air that hits your core reminds you that you had chosen to forego underwear today, and you reach down to shimmy your skirt up to your hips while Dean’s still focused on your breasts. You’re able to spread your legs a bit further now, and you can’t help but chuckle at the fact that your boyfriend still hasn’t noticed you fully on display. 

He pulls away an inch or so when he hears your giggling. “Somethin’ funny?”

“You really are a boob guy, huh?” You shake your head in disbelief, biting back a smile. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, and you use the opportunity to lean forward, simultaneously pulling him towards you by his shoulders so you can whisper in his ear. “You’ve been so focused on them you haven’t taken the time to look down yet, have you?”

He pulls away, still confused, until his eyes dart down to your core. “Jesus – wait – did you –”

“Was debating between those panties you really like or just foregoing them altogether,” you shrug.

“Fuck,” he breathes, staring at your dripping core for a few moments before a second wave of feral hunger hits him. “ Fuck .”

Before you can even process his movements, you’re bent over the counter instead of sitting on it, your legs kicked apart with two fingers plunging into your heat. 

“Oh my – Dean !” you squeal at both the abruptness and the roughness of it all.

“Don’t know what you expected, sweetheart, walking around with everything on fuckin’ display.” He crooks his fingers at just the right angle, and you bite back a scream.

“I – fuck – nothing w-was on display – oh God !” 

“Might as well have been. This tight little skirt of yours doesn’t leave much to the imagination, either. And then to find out there’s been nothing underneath it this whole time?”

“Ow!” you exclaim, as a loud smack fills the air, courtesy of Dean’s hand landing on your bare ass. 

“ Louder ,” he growls. “I want the whole fuckin’ building to know they can imagine whatever they want, but I’m the only one who gets to act on it.” He pulls his fingers out of you and spanks you again.

“De – oh, fuck !” you choke out. “Please, Dean.”

“Please what?” he asks nonchalantly, and you can hear his belt buckle clinking behind you.

“Fuck me. Please, I need you to fuck me.”

“ Need me to, huh?” You hear the zipper of his slacks, and you shift your weight in anticipation, your ass squirming. He lands another smack on your left cheek – the hardest one yet.

“DEAN!” you yelp, and you’re certain the entire building heard that one.

“There you go. Now beg that loud and I may just give you what you want,” he chuckles, grabbing a fistful of your hair and bringing your face up from the counter while he runs his cock through your soaked folds. 

“Please!” you groan.

“Mm-mm, not hearin’ you, sweetheart.”

“Deaaaan!” you whine, pushing your hips back, trying to force him inside you. 

“You know what to do, Y/N.” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath – there’s only so much of this you can take. You focus on his cock teasing your folds for a few moments, and that’s all the encouragement you need.

“Please, Dean! Please, fuck me!”

“That’s better. Louder.”

“Jesus fucking – FUCK ME, NOW!”

You’re rewarded immediately, and he bottoms out inside you with ease. 

“Was that so hard?”

“Fuck me,” you reply through gritted teeth, “or I’m gonna go get Mr. McAnn to do it.”

That is both the very wrong and very right thing to say. 

You yelp as he yanks up harder on your hair, your chest leaving the counter. His hand moves to rest on your neck – not choking you, simply holding you in place – and then he pounds into you harder than he ever has before. 

“You are something else, you know that?” he hisses, his thrusts hard and fast. “I know you were only acting like a slut for Mr. Douchebag back there, but it just comes so – fucking – easy – to you, doesn’t it?” He punctuates his words with more thrusts. “And not wearin’ any underwear – that wasn’t for the act, hm? That was because you were hopin’ to end up like this, yeah?” His hand moves from your throat to grip underneath your jaw when you fail to answer. “ Yeah ?”

“Yeah – oh m-my God – fuck , D-Deaaan.”

He smirks, watching you in the mirror above the counter as you slowly come apart on his cock. “No, you don’t have to act like a slut for me, sweetheart. You just are one, hm?” 

You nod to the best of your ability. 

“Open your eyes, look at yourself,” he orders, his grip on your jaw tightening as his thrusts speed up. You do as you’re told, meeting your reflection in the mirror. You’re not sure if your mascara is smudged because of sweat or tears, your hair looks like a bird has made its home in it, and you can’t remember a time that you’ve looked this fucked out. “See what I mean?” Dean questions. “Sluttiest you’ve ever fuckin’ looked. Not that I’m complaining.” 

You feel the dam inside you about to break, and you let out a whimper in warning. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, almost out of breath, his tone laced with pity. “Are you gonna cum?”

“Mm-hm,” you nod, whimpering again.

“You like being my slut that much, hm?”

“Dean, please,” you beg, squeezing your eyes shut, stalling your release as much as you can. You’re not sure why – it’s not like you have to wait for his permission – but you find yourself wanting it. 

“Christ, Y/N,” he breathes, quickly realizing what you’re asking for. His thrusts are becoming erratic, and you know he’s close too. “Hold it, baby. Can you do that?”

“I don’t –”

“Mmm, I think you can. I’m – fuck – I’m close. Be a good little slut and hold it. Want you – shit – want you to cum with me, sweetheart.”

You find yourself nodding, focusing on Dean’s pants in your ear instead of the precipice of your release, and a few seconds go by before expletives are falling from his lips and you know it’s safe for you to let go.

Your dam breaks. “Oh, God – fuck – Dean!”

“Fuuuuuck,” he moans, filling you up. He lets his forehead fall to your shoulder as he catches his breath, post-orgasmic shivers running through him as you ride out your high, your walls clenching around his cock. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he pants, lifting his head to press a kiss behind your ear. “Such a perfect fuckin’ slut.”

You manage a soft giggle as your body settles. “Only for you, babe.”

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder as he stares at your reflection in the mirror. 

“And don’t you forget it.”

[supernaturalistthings]

Earlier

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean flirts with another girl to make you jealous.

Warnings: +18 contains smut

You watch from across the bar as Dean shamelessly flirts with the bartender before him. She’s loving it and leaning into every word he says. Your hold on your short glass tightens as Sam mindlessly sips his beer while seated at the table with you. He looks over to you and does a double take then follows your eyes and sighs

“Okay, this is torture” Sam says while tapping his hands on the table

“What?” you snap your head in his direction questioningly

“This..” he gestures his hands at you and Dean, frustrated with the situation before you both. He continues “He's doing this to make you jealous, you know?”

“What?” you say again without taking your eyes off Dean

“He devised this whole plan i wasnt supposed to tell you about …to get your attention… but this is just torture”

“You're lying… trying to be nice” you say, sneaking a quick glance at the younger Winchester trying to get a sense of his sincerity. Ultimately your attention gets laser focused back on the “happy couple”

“I'm not, I swear” he says laughing, putting his hands up in surrender. Truthfully it sounds exactly like something Dean would do, but what was in front of your eyes clouds all sense of rationale or logic. “You know i've always rooted for you guys” he continues

“There's no “you guys”, there’s absolutely nothing between us” you say with an eye roll as you start gathering your jacket and bag from the back of the chair.

“You’re right, this is torture. i’m turning in have a good night sam” he shakes his head and waves you off as you start making your way through the crowded bar. You look back only once at Dean and the bartender and find them in the same exact form they had been previously. She could care less about the aggravated bar patrons looking for drinks and refills, she only wants Dean. He looks over just in time to catch your gaze and his smile falters. You snap your eyes back towards the exit but he continues to watch as you make your way through the bar when the next thing he sees is the exit door closing behind you. He abruptly ends the conversation with the overly flirty bartender and scans the bar looking for his brother. He finally finds Sam who is already waving to get his attention and makes his way over drink in hand.

“You struck out?” Sam says pointing in the direction dean just came from

“I'm not interested” Dean retorts, setting his drink on the table “Where’d she go?” he continues

“Ah you mean the real reason you didn’t take that bartender back to the room? She got sick of your show and went back to the motel” Sam replies, taking a swig of his beer.

Dean's eyes fall to the drink in his hand while contemplating whether or not this will be the night. The night he rushes to your side and confesses how he really feels, how he has felt for a while now. How you’re the only one who can bring him to knees and lift him up at the same time. How he can’t actually be with anyone else without being utterly consumed by the thought of you. All of a sudden The music in this bar seems too loud, too many people are way too drunk, nothing good is on any of the TVs. All of a sudden it seems to be too much for Dean and he realizes this is the night, he can’t take this anymore. He’s yours and he wants you to know it, to give him the chance to have you too.

He says nothing and simply smiles, grabs Sam's shoulder, and laughs and disbelief at what he was about to do. He stands and starts hastily making his way towards the exit and to his car. The engine roars to life and he peels out of the parking lot and starts the short drive to the motel. The rundown and very reasonably priced place enters his vision and he finds a parking spot nearest your room.

He throws open his car door and nearly runs to your room to knock repeatedly, until you answer. You slightly open the door and make eye contact with a smiling and breathless Dean. You immediately groan and go to shut the door in one swift motion, he jams his boot between the door and its frame preventing you from shutting him out.

“Well hello to you too” he says still breathless and with a smile as he shoves himself through the opening and past you so he’s safely in the room and it’s not likely you could force him out

You sigh and shut the door behind you, latching it, and then turn to face the man you had fallen for. Who had no idea. The man you were trying your hardest to stay annoyed at. You cross your arms over your chest and plainly ask

“What are you doing here Dean? You looked plenty occupied last time i saw you”

“I was trying to get under your skin..” he retorts

“Well congratulations Dean. you succeeded. You can get back to whatever or whoever you were doi-“

“Will you stop talking and listen to me? i’m not going anywhere until you do” he interjects leaving you agape. His bluntness has always stirred something inside you. It makes you shift on your feet. You’re nervous for what he’s about to say but still give him a look that grants him permission to continue.

“I've cared about you for a long time…” he says, taking a few steps forward until you're face to face. He continues, “and I'm tired of pretending that I don't… I'm tired of pretending like your laugh isn't my favorite sound, like i don't want to run my hands through your hair everytime you look at me, like you talking to other guys doesnt send me into a damn spiral… and most of all i'm tired of pretending that i want anyone other than you”

You're in shock and silence fills the room. Your arms are now uncrossed and the intense eye contact that's happening right now is making you feel like you could pass out. You don't know if you've ever seen his eyes look this green. You try to muster any of the million thoughts that are racing through your head but the shock has completely taken over your ability to actually speak them. All you can say is

“But earlier..”

“I was just trying to get your attention…” he brushes some hair out of your face, and gathers your face in both hands. He holds you in that moment like you might break. He looks desperately into your eyes for some sort of answer, some future. “I'm sorry..” he continues while leaning in even further so his lips feel like a whisper against yours. All of a sudden you could care less about earlier and can only think of what his lips would feel like moving against yours. You slowly bring your arms up and wrap them around his neck. You're looking deeply into his eyes while he scans your face for any signs of doubt. There isn't any.

You both lean in and seal your lips together. Your mouths move slowly and hesitantly, wanting to savor every second. It feels like you're both breathing for the first time in years, it comes easy to you both, natural even. He pulls back slowly and almost painfully as his eyes flutter open and meet yours.

“I've waited so long..” you say while keeping his gaze. He softly smiles and readjusts his hands on the sides of your face before sealing your lips once again, but this time it's different. This kiss is passionate, possessive even. You're his and he's yours, and he wants you to know that without a doubt. Every single second with his lips on yours reinforces that. His hands travel down to the sides of your waist and he pulls you flush against him. Your hands trail to his broad chest and every touch from him is electrifying your body. You desperately need to feel him, all of him. But you can't help but to think

“Are we moving too fast?...” you say breathlessly between kisses

“Probably…” he whispers back into the kiss “should we stop?” he continues still without breaking the kiss

You pull back in shock and look at him with a smile “absolutely not” His lips turn into a jackpot grin of his own and you both collide again.

HIs hands tighten on your waist and he effortlessly pulls you up to wrap your legs around him. His hands move over your rear to the back of your thighs and without breaking the kiss he walks you over to the bed. He leans himself forward and lays you gently on the bed. He steadies himself over you and says “I've waited for this for so long too” while looking deeply and passionately into your eyes.

You can't help but roll the both of you over so you're straddling him beneath you. You take the sides of his face into your hands and say “You have no idea” before taking your top off over your head, you swear you could have seen literal hearts in his eyes from the way he was looking at you. He relishes this moment and runs his hands up your half naked torso until he reaches the bra clasp on your back. He expertly undoes it and slides your bra off your shoulders he runs his hands over your now bare breasts and starts breathing heavier at the touch. “Even damn better than I'd imagined.”

He leans himself forward and puts a hand on the back of your neck to reconnect your kiss. It only breaks for a second while you pull his shirt over his head. It joins yours on the floor and your hands move down his toned chest to the button on his jeans. At the friction of pulling his zipper down he takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and pulls possessively. Its taking everything within himself to restrain himself from taking you and fucking you dirty. He wants this to be perfect, he never wants you to think about another man but him ever again.

He flips the both of you so once again you’re beneath him and he gazes down at you like you're the only woman on earth. Like you’re a dream that's about to come true. He starts slowly taking your pants off and your panties with them and as soon as he gets them past your ankles he throws them to join the rest of your clothes on the ground. He's staring again but this time you are completely bared in front of him, he can't help himself really. You're way more beautiful than any dream he's had. He stays there for a second and you don't know whether to feel self conscious or not, he notices and softly grabs your thighs.

“You're so beautiful…”. You smile in return and lace your fingers through his. Your hands fit perfectly together. You pull him down onto you and whisper against his lips

“You know this is starting to feel a little unfair” you say as you flick your eyes down to his jeans and then back up to those beautiful green eyes. He smiles brightly and kisses you while bringing one hand to push his jeans and boxers down while you help them the rest of the way down and he kicks them off. Your lips reconnect and you're both smiling into the kiss.

Your hands are all over each other's bodies and you're moving yours down to where he wants you most. He's already fully hard and is shaking at any form of contact. He's big, bigger than you've ever had and this only pools the wetness between your thighs. The room is filled with both of your moans and praises. You're pumping him steadily and he's loving every second. His breathing is starting to get labored when he says

“If i'm not inside you soon this is going to get really embarrassing, really quickly…” It comes out as a whisper against the nape of your neck. You throw your head back in laughter. You can see his cheeks flush as he smiles sheepishly. You kiss him once again and help him align himself with your entrance. He thrusts deeply and it has you gasping into his mouth and clawing at his shoulders. He buries his head into your shoulder and breathes deeply to steady himself.

“Fuck this feels so good” he groans out. He starts moving slowly, all the way out and all the way in. This lasts for a few minutes until he begins fucking you feverishly. He's absolutely ravishing you. It feels euphoric and you can't stop screaming his name while he kisses your neck. You wrap your legs tightly around him and he starts thrusting deeper and harder if that's even possible. He's looking directly into your eyes and moaning over your lips. His hand is running all along your thigh.

“Are you close?” he grunts out

All you can manage is a enthusiastic nod and a string of reassuring moans and pants. You’re hanging onto his shoulders for dear life when you finally feel him spilling out of you which is enough to send you over the edge. You cum hard and fast around him, your walls tightening around his long member.

He kisses you quickly and then pulls back and says

“How could you think I would ever want anyone else other than you?” You both smile simultaneously at his words and you lean up to place a loving kiss on his lips. A kiss that held years of unspoken words and missed conversations and Dean feels it, every syllable.

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 18

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, mentions of underage drinking and stuff (it’s the 80s and a runaway teen, so calm your tits, mm-kay?), jealousy, major angst, heartbreak, hurt

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Y/N’s too eager, Dean’s too harsh, they’re both oblivious idiots, and it all ends disastrously. You’re welcome? *hides away in one of her soundproof safehouses* 🥸🖤

<< 17 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

18. I Hate Myself For Loving You

The pack of women is celebrating their first official day back at work, although most of them are still hungover from last night’s birthday bash by the pool and have barely slept, too busy hooking up with crewmen. Needless to say, no one takes the director’s silly rule seriously.

Y/N, on the other hand, solely chatted with Dean by the pool the whole night, their legs dangling in the refreshing, turquoise water as they sipped on beers before he carried a passed-out Claire home, who’d fallen asleep on a sun lounger shortly after midnight. Dean allowed his kid one beer, not noticing Ruby secretly sharing her reefer with the girl all throughout the night. Like father, like daughter…

Y/N already noted down to have a chat with both of them at their next dinner together and remind them of the house rules. God, why does she always have to play the villain?

While there’s still no wrestling on the schedule, Dean needs all the women in their costumes and make-up for screen tests today. The girls are bustling in the locker room of the gym, chatting vividly as they help each other get ready. Y/N has to admit it feels good to put her scarlet leotard back on. She honestly missed it a little over the past month during their break.

“Holy shit, I’m so excited to get into full make-up and hair, only for the boss to look at me for two seconds through a camera lens and yell, ‘Next!’,” Ruby complains sarcastically as she puts on a set of false eyelashes in the mirror.

“Well, you know him.” Y/N shrugs it off as she fixes the choker part of her costume around her neck.

“Not as well as you, Captain,” Ruby sings teasingly and shoots her a cheeky wink.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Y/N chooses to ignore the comment. She’s received more of them recently, ever since the rest of the women have caught on to her close relationship with Dean, although most of it is just kindergarten-level teasing. So, she’s trying not to take them too seriously and panic. Y/N and Dean are sitting in a tree…

The chatter suddenly quiets, Y/N turning to the door in confusion with everyone else as an unfamiliar young woman innocently strolls into the changing room. She’s gorgeous, in her mid-twenties, and sports an adorable curly haircut. She smiles warily at the wolf pack and waves her hand.

“Hi, uh, who are you?” Y/N inquires first as the other women look at her expectantly as if she’s the Speaker of the House.  

“Oh, uh, I’m Cassie. I’m the new girl,” she introduces herself, smiling.

“Dean didn’t tell us he was hiring someone new.” Kaia cockily folds her arms over her costume and puffs her chest out as she eyes the newest addition.

“She smells nice. I like it,” Meg notes after sniffing the air. Y/N swears you really get used to that girl’s quirks.

“Uh, well, since Claire’s back in school and can’t do the show anymore, Dean probably needed someone new,” Y/N swiftly scrambles for an explanation and tries to keep the peace. The director’s the worst communicator ever. A little preparation would’ve been appreciated. “But this is great! Welcome to the wayward sisters, Cassie,” she announces warmly, knowing the others will follow her lead.

The room’s still full of crickets, though, some women pursing their lips and averting their eyes, others crossing their arms and downright scowling. Y/N sighs internally. The usual…

“Guys, Cassie is not the enemy,” Y/N reminds them and sees the girls nod in understanding, a few sighs of acceptance bouncing off the locker walls.

“No, Dean is,” Kaia corrects her with a grim look, and Y/N has to admit that argument is a little harder to deny.

Y/N exhales a frustrated breath and turns to the new girl with a smile. “Well, uh, Cassie, did Dean and Cas tell you what kinda character you’re playing?”

“Uh, yeah, they want me to play a rapper called Doll Slayer,” Cassie replies and meets a room full of judgmentally raised brows.

“I’ll make you a great costume, honey,” Missouri assures her and warmly rubs the girl’s shoulders. Y/N is grateful at least someone is making a first step.

“Yeah, just a heads-up–,” Billie chimes in as she strolls past Cassie with a smirk, “–your costume is gonna smell like beer and racism after a match.”

Cassie simply shrugs her shoulders, unbothered. “Oh, that’s not so bad. I’m used to it. I worked at a strip club before. At least here, no one touches my pussy and grabs my ass, aside from you girls,” she says and winks, smirking.

Ruby stalks closer and circles her, musingly pursing her pink-painted lips. Party girl has found a new prey – or it might just be the leopard print on her costume that gives it that illusion. “So… How did you get this job? Did you audition, or was it more of a… personal connection?”

See? This is why Y/N is scared to death that her blood sisters could potentially find out what really happened between her and Dean. She’s lucky they think she’s too anal and prude to fuck the boss and still buy that it only ever has been pure, innocent friendship between her and the director.

Sometimes Y/N seriously wonders what the fuck happened to her over the past year, nay, months. Not too long ago, she felt uncomfortable undressing in front of someone else at the gym, including women. The first time she had sex with Sam, she kept her bra on and was relieved the lights were off, for crying out loud.

Now, she doesn’t have that fear anymore. She likes herself when she stares into the mirror, loves it even when she peeks at her perky and bouncy buttcheeks, the muscles that clad her body after weeks of training, the strong thighs that could squeeze a whole head between them, or the good heart that pumps in her chest. These days, Y/N doesn’t need a guy to pay her a compliment or give her attention. She does it all by herself every day now.

Fuck, Dean has been right all along. Not giving a shit has power. It’s truly fucking freeing.

Cassie sighs and confidently holds her stance, shoulders straight and tits out as she faces Ruby. “Look, your director came to my club last week, I gave him a lap dance, and he offered me a job,” she replies coolly.

“Of course,” Jo scoffs sarcastically and rolls her eyes, muttering, “First open slot, and he hires a stripper.”

“Is anyone surprised?” Ruby snorts her rhetorical question, eliciting a row of laughs as the women start spewing a tirade of jokes on Dean’s dime.

Oh boy… Not even Alma can help the director here.

But Y/N’s heart twinges slightly, wondering if it was more than just a lap dance at a club. Did he take Cassie home? Kiss her the same way? Touch her the same way?

And why does she care if he did? She figured it would happen eventually, sooner rather than later even. At this point, she should be happy he’s staying away from teenagers and relatives, at least.

“Hey, uh, Dean? Can I talk to you for a second?”

Dean’s in the middle of telling the sound department what to do for the third goddamn time when Y/N’s sweet voice bleeds through the nonsense and noise. This time, it barely calms him, though, his nerves through the roof as he tries to prepare everything as best as possible before Crowley struts into the gym at any minute. The network manager announced a surprise visit to check out the set today, but Cas has informed him the network actually considers switching directors. “Someone with more experience in network TV,” they’d explained. So, Crowley will naturally be accompanied by the network’s go-to director, Cain, who’s shooting for his fucking job. Hence, Dean has planned to piss all over this set and mark it as his. He’s going to fucking wow them, albeit he hates groveling and schmoozing.

They want to replace him, want him to jump through humiliating hoops and beg on his knees for their acceptance. And Dean? He wants to fucking strangle someone…

Yet, he still forces a rushed smile to his lips for Y/N. “Yeah, uh, sure. Just make it quick, sweetheart.”

“Well, uh, since you really didn’t answer any questions at yesterday’s meeting, and now with the new girl and the contracts… maybe you could set aside some time today to address the collective anxiety, put people at ease, make them feel seen and heard,” Y/N explains carefully, causing him to groan in annoyance, his head lolling back between his shoulder blades.

The director shakes his head vehemently. “No, nuh-uh, absolutely not. I don’t wanna do that. I don’t want them to feel seen and heard. I want them to be invisible, so I can do my job in peace.”

“Dean!” Y/N frowns deeply.

“Look, Crowley’s coming over because the network is trying to get rid of me,” Dean shares and runs a palm across his face. “I’m under a lot of pressure, alright?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t wanna stress you out more,” Y/N says genuinely and shoots him an apologetic smile, chewing on that plump bottom lip. “They just wanna feel special,” she adds with an innocent shrug of one shoulder.

“You wanna be my Alma?” Her head bobs vigorously up and down in response. It’s cute. “Then you go do something to make the girls feel special, so I don’t have to, alright?”

God, these fucking women…

Y/N’s face lights up with a gigantic beam, outshining every single studio lamp on set. “Okay, I have an idea, boss.” She nods ardently and gives him a thumbs-up.

Oh boy, Dean doesn’t have a good feeling about this as he watches her hop to the changing rooms, but as he’s hauled back by more burning questions of crew members and the huge to-do list on his clipboard, he doesn’t have the time to mull some more over it and hopes for the best.

Y/N decided to shoot a main title sequence with the girls to raise morale among the group and create a fun bonding experience. The women were already in their costumes and make-up for Dean’s screen tests, and Benny was off for the day as well. It seemed like the perfect opportunity, so she grabbed a cameraman and went to the closest mall with the girls, having a blast as they shot silly scenes.

She had a clipboard with her scene notes, writing everything down she wanted to shoot – locations, perspectives, action sequences… She even made certain every unsuspecting civilian in the background signed a network waiver, ensuring she thought of everything Dean had taught her so far. Y/N wanted to make him proud and hoped he would be. She wanted to surprise him with something cool to take some of the stress off of his broad and heavily weighted shoulders.

After helping direct the pilot, she really understands the many responsibilities of his job. Honestly, being a director is fucking exhausting, and she’s glad she doesn’t have to do it full-time. Every once in a while, it’s quite fun, however.

When they finished shooting all the necessary scenes, Benny even offered to edit it for her, and they almost stayed up all night to finish a one-minute clip as the two of them looked at over four hours’ worth of footage.

Jesus fuck, like she said, it’s tiring and really not that rewarding until the premiere.

So, the next morning, Y/N called a little meeting just for the girls before any other crew member arrived at the gym. The women have all eagerly gathered around the small TV screen, having borrowed one from the motel after Sergei was nice enough to lend it to them. The Russian has grown quite fond of the girls since their stay.

Everyone is so excited to view their collaborative project that their beams are barely containable as the girls giddily jump in their training shoes on the concrete. Y/N then pushes the VHS tape in but suddenly hears voices echoing through the gym and immediately recognizes Dean’s unmistakable timbre. Shit. She wanted to show it to the girls first, deciding it was better to surprise the director privately later, and quickly halts the video before it even starts.

Fortunately, Dean’s only accompanied by Cas, the two of them in a chipper mood. The director looks surprised when he spots all the women in a cluster in front of a TV and questioningly cocks his eyebrow, finding Y/N’s eyes in a heartbeat.

“Oh, uh, Dean, you’re just in time. We have a surprise for you,” the young actress smiles nervously and takes a deep breath.

It’s not the worst, Y/N reminds herself. If he doesn’t like it, then they simply won’t use it. No harm, no foul. He even seems a bit intrigued as a lopsided smile forms on his plush lips, joining the group as an audience member. Cas, on the other hand, is just thrilled at this point and almost climbs onto Billie’s shoulders, trying to get the best view.

Y/N shoots the director an insecure smile and swallows, hoping he isn’t mad at her. But her heart flutters when Dean smiles back and subtly nods, telling her to go ahead.

But suddenly, the smiles drop from both their faces as Crowley sneaks up behind her from the hallway and joins her side with a smile. Her heart stops, and Dean’s apparently does as well, if his shocked facial expression is anything to go by before he catches himself and recovers.

“Crowley! Didn’t know you were stopping by today,” Dean greets him with a broad and fake smile, successfully hiding his disdain.

“Just wanted to come by to collect the contracts and say hello.” The network manager smiles and sends the group a friendly wave. “I wanted to check in and see how things were going. Still looked a little… dicey yesterday.”

“Great.” Cas smiles through his teeth, fingertips digging into Billie’s shoulders. “So many surprise visits…”

“So, what’s going on here? That looks interesting,” Crowley notes, eyes curiously studying the TV.

Shit, shit, shit… What is Y/N supposed to do now? Right! Improv class!

“Oh, uh, just a little something we put together for fun. We can totally do this later if you guys are bu–,” Y/N tries to deflect and scratches her throat, sharing nervous glances with Dean, but gets interrupted by Crowley.

“No, no, no… Don’t let me keep you from doing anything differently. I’m just a fly on the wall,” the manager attempts to soothe her and ushers her to continue, but it only makes her panic even more, her heartbeat hammering loudly in her ribcage.

One last look back at Dean tells the young actress she doesn’t have much choice left anymore and bravely starts the video, praying everyone will like it.

Dear God, Y/N can barely breathe or even discern any sounds except for her own pounding heartbeat that’s ringing in her ears. But the nervousness starts to leave her body once she watches everyone’s excited expressions, her shoulders losing the built-up tension. They all love it, including Crowley and Cas. She shares a smile of respect with Benny, both of them proud of the work they did, celebrating their achievement. And when the video ends, the room cheers, claps, and whistles loudly.

“Wow, fantastic.” Crowley’s smile seems both impressed and happy. He then looks at Dean, taking his imaginary hat off. “This is great work, Dean. Now, I’m excited to see the rest of the show!”

This is good, right? Dean gets praise, the girls are thrilled, and Y/N feels relieved the network seems to like what she filmed, even though they don’t know it was her. But she doesn’t need the credit as long as everyone is happy with the end result. But then she notices Dean’s stance – his strained muscles, his tightened jaw, and the subtly creased brow line. He seems pissed, and Y/N doesn’t know if it’s because of the video or because of Crowley’s presence, but she hopes it’s the latter.

“Well, what can I say? I know what H-ELLTV wants.” Dean’s smile is full of bitterness. “That’s why you hired me, right?”

Y/N’s sure she’s not imagining his anger when even Cas seems to take note of it and hurries to Crowley’s side, quickly scurrying the manager away by his shoulders. “Hey, Crowley, why don’t I accompany you back to the parking lot, and we can go over some business?”

As soon as the two men are out of earshot, Dean saunters into the middle of the viewing circle, a quiet storm rolling in from the wild sea. He halts in front of her, shooting Y/N a disappointed look that makes her swallow harshly and almost pass out before he gives her the cold shoulder and faces the rest of the room, turning his back to her as if she doesn’t exist at all.

“Okay, who here is confused about who the director is, huh?” Dean throws rhetorically into the group, knowing full well who the culprit is. Y/N’s sure he knows it’s her.

Fucking shit.

“No one?” Dean arches his eyebrow when he’s still only met with silence. “‘Cause I’m fucking confused. I don’t remember sending anyone out to a mall to shoot a fucking main title sequence. So, who shot this?”

Okay, just tell him what you’ve done, Y/N. You can do this. He may bite your head off, but he’ll also forgive you once you’ve explained yourself…

But Y/N doesn’t get a chance to step forward when Benny raises his hand and says, “I did, chief. I cut it, too.”

Fuck. Y/N knows she can’t let Benny take the blame for her mistake. This is bad. Really, really, really bad.

“Hey!”

Oh God, is that her squeaky voice? Is she really doing it? But apparently, she is as she pushes past Dean and protectively positions herself in front of Benny, shielding the camera operator from the director’s wrath.

“It’s not him. I did it. I told him what to shoot.”

Dean’s death stare then fully lands on her, making her weak knees quiver in fear. She’s witnessed a few of Dean’s outbursts before, but she’s never seen him this goddamn angry. His look is so dark that his usually gorgeous green eyes are just two black holes, his jaw clenched so sharply it could cut through diamonds. He’s not just fuming – he’s a goddamn California wildfire.

“Interesting,” Dean notes as he studies the pair in front of him, clicks his tongue, and sneers, “So, lemme guess… You two stayed up all night, cozied up in front of a screen… to throw this fucking garbage together? How cute.”

“Dean, I was just trying to help,” Y/N explains meekly, but he only scoffs condescendingly in response. “The girls needed a boost.”

“I don’t need your help, sweetheart. I need you to be a fucking actress,” he bites harshly, his deep voice booming, razor-sharp words slicing through her arteries. The way he looks at her hurts the most, though. It lets her know she’s fucking worthless in his eyes. “You’re not a fucking director just because you take a camera into your hands, Y/N.”

“Well, if we’re being honest, I thought the show needed a little something to pull the audience in,” Y/N states bravely and bites the insides of her cheeks bloody, swallowing some of her own anger down with the metallic taste in her mouth. Maybe she went a little overboard, but she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this by him. She doesn’t deserve to be humiliated again. This punishment is unjust.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I won’t pull the audience in with this cheap shit,” Dean snaps. “What the fuck were you thinking, huh? Are you trying to make a move on my job, Y/N? You think you can do better than me?”

Her brow furrows wildly at his accusation. “Dean, what? No!”

“Because I’d never put my name on something I didn’t direct, sweetheart,” he grits, nostrils flaring. “Let alone on some girly as fuck bullshit.”

“You put your name on the pilot.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and her entire body freezes, every limb and every muscle going numb when that muttered sentence reaches her ears. Fuck. She’s pretty sure it was Kaia who said it and knows it was the final nail in Dean’s rage coffin. He’s going to explode like an atomic bomb. Fat Man.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to me?” The director’s head snaps to Kaia as she bravely steps forward.

“You heard me,” Kaia says and courageously faces his thundering glare. “You know Y/N directed the pilot. She saved your ass. You should thank her.”

How the fuck do you breathe again? Because Y/N seems to have forgotten how as her heart stops and incinerates in her ribcage till only a pile of ash remains. She’s sure her lungs will follow soon, too.

Dean smacks his lips, head bobbing in a rhythm like the clock of a time bomb. It’s the calm before the storm. And then, when he meets Kaia’s defiant stare, he simply says, “You’re fired,” and the whole room gasps before falling into shocked silence.

“What?” Kaia’s jaw drops to the floor, not expecting the director to go as far as he did.

“You heard me,” Dean repeats with a cunning smirk, clearly getting sadistic pleasure out of the fact he gets to throw those words back at her. “Pack up your shit and get the fuck off my set.”

Kaia takes a final look at each of the women, nodding her goodbye with tears brimming in her chocolate eyes before she sends Dean one last glare and storms out of the gym. Y/N flinches at the jarring sound of the heavy metal door, her heart filling with guilt. And as Dean finally glances at her again, his look says it as well, “This is on you. You made me do this, Y/N.”

“So, anyone else got something to say? No?” Dean challenges the group and nods in satisfaction when no answer comes. “Good.”

And then, it all becomes too fucking much. Y/N wanted to do something nice for him, help him, make herself useful. By no means did she want this. She didn’t want to disappoint him. She didn’t want to anger him. She didn’t want to get humiliated in front of all her friends, her family. And for crying out loud, she definitely didn’t want some innocent bystander to get fired over her mistake.

This is worse than getting humiliated by Dean during her audition. It hurts infinitely more. They hadn’t known each other back then. They weren’t friends. A stranger, some random asshole, had degraded her and taken her pride back then. Now, it was her fucking best friend that did it. A guy she has trusted, a guy she lo–

Y/N chokes and can’t hold it in anymore, even though she wants to. She doesn’t want to be weak in front of him, but a tear still escapes her eye and slips down her cheek. She quickly wipes it away with her sleeve but notices that Dean caught it nonetheless.

“Get back to work,” he mutters and shoulders through the crowd as he averts his green eyes and tries not to look at her, stomping up the stairs to his office without a glance back. “Hey, Y/N? If you wanna help so bad, why don’t you grab a rag and clean up a little? It’s fucking dusty in here…”

As the office door slams shut with a bang, Y/N finally allows herself to break down, the sobs wracking freely through her body. But she doesn’t fall – a pack of ten women quickly huddles around her and catches her in their arms.

“He gets like that sometimes,” Billie assures her and hugs her tighter as Charlie wipes some of the tears from her face. “Just let the ass cool down a little.”

Y/N nods with a sniffle and hopes the stunt woman is right.

Dean’s the villain, and Benny’s the fucking hero, the one that tried to save the damsel in distress from the unbearable and ferocious monster and turned Cinderella into a princess. That’s the story you’ve decided to tell, isn’t it?

Doesn’t matter that Dean’s hurt, too. Doesn’t matter that he feels fucking betrayed by the woman he loves. That, maybe, seeing a handsome camera operator bonding with his girl triggered something deep and broken inside his heart. He couldn’t control the spewing dragon fire that came out of his mouth. All he saw in his mind was Benny fucking Y/N while they edited this little video together, sharing flirtatious laughs and wanton looks all throughout the night.

And while Dean still thinks he had a right to make a point and draw a line in the sand, showing the young actress where the boundaries are, where her goddamn place is, he knows he went too fucking far when he saw the first heartbreaking tear trickle down her rosy cheeks.

It fucking broke him.

Y/N never cries, truly no matter what. Getting beat up in front of strangers after fucking her best friend’s husband? Nope. Getting humiliated by her boss? Still holding the dam. Unwanted pregnancy? Not a single tear shed. Dean wasn’t sure if anything in this world could even make that girl cry at this point. It seemed like an unfathomable impossibility.

Yet, Dean seems to be exactly that exception. He made her cry. He broke her. And he hates himself for it, hates himself for loving her so much that it fucking hurts.

And then, he catches himself thinking, Maybe that tear meant she feels something for me after all.

“Hey, just wanted to drop by and give you this.” Jo strolls into his office and drops a thick stack of papers on his desk. Dean’s eyes only begrudgingly skim through the contents, not in the mood for the blonde’s theatrics right now. “It’s my new contract. Crowley already signed it. I have to look out for myself now. I know what I’m worth, and I’m not going to apologize to you or to anyone for it.”

The director rolls his eyes and lets out a small sigh. Apparently, her lawyer ex-husband is smart enough to negotiate a better deal for his wife, meaning he doesn’t have to pay her as much spousal support if she can provide for herself. What a frustratingly clever dick…

There’s a knock on the open door, his green eyes immediately recognizing Y/N. While his heart flutters upon her sight, it’s still boiling, too, the pain, anger, and jealousy still simmering below his stoic surface. It’s even hard for him to look at her right now without breaking down. All he sees is the image of her protectively jumping in front of Benny, the smile she shared with the cameraman over their successful project, wondering if truly all they did was work. Did he kiss her? Did he touch her?

“Look, don’t fire Kaia,” Y/N charges in, a pleading look etched into her features. Her eyes are still puffy from crying, her little nose still red from sniffling. “If you wanna fire someone, fire me. It was my fault.”

Dean sternly meets her gaze and challenges her, “Is that really what you what, hm?”

Fuck, the director doesn’t know why he even suggested it. He wouldn’t know what he’d do if she actually accepted this deal. While he’s momentarily angry and hurt, he doesn’t want to lose her, either. She just needs some boundaries. Clear-cut boundaries. Just like his kid. God, these women are trampling all over him.

Fortunately, Y/N was only bluffing, too. She hesitates and shares a helpless look with Jo, who’s not in a hurry to jump to her frenemy’s defense and just awkwardly averts her gaze to the floor.

Y/N then finally looks into his eyes and gives him a defensive shrug of her shoulders. “I-I had ideas, okay?”

Dean sighs loudly and grunts, “Yeah? Put ‘em in your fucking diary next time and keep them away from my set. I can’t direct this show, Y/N, when they’re all looking to you for answers.”

He knows the girls have crowned her the pack leader, even if Y/N has never asked for that title. He knows they respect her and listen to her, knows they like her more than him. Hell, the women probably love her just as much as he does. On top of that, Y/N actually did a good job directing this stupid sequence, and Dean would be proud of her if it wasn’t all overshadowed by his wrath and envy. He’s not only jealous of Benny, no, he’s jealous of her as well, and it makes him hate himself even more.

She was a good girl. She did a great job. She deserves to be praised and not punished. She did what he taught her, but he just always figured she’d ask him for help on a project and not the goddamn camera guy. And now, he can’t stop his inner sadist and master of self-sabotage from hurting her like she’s hurting him by not wanting him back.

“I know. I’m sorry. I get it.” She bobs her head in genuine understanding and sorrow, pouting her pink lips. “It’s just-… We take care of each other. We’re a family.”

“Nah, you’re really not,” he bites with a sneer as he drills his knife into her heart, knowing precisely where it would sting the most. “This is a job. You’re colleagues, Y/N. If I fire one of you, I can just pop into the next strip club and hire a new actress to replace you, sweetheart. Says more about your job than mine, doesn’t it?”

Y/N is speechless, the first few tears pricking her beautiful eyes again, but Dean can tell she won’t let them escape this time as she balls her hands into fists by her thighs and tightens her jaw.

“Now, get the fuck out of my office,” he orders her sharply and watches the defeated actress reluctantly leave. He then turns back to Joanna’s contract on his desk, hoping he can finally be left in peace soon.

These fucking women…

“You wanna be a fucking producer?!” Dean gapes at the paper in front of his green orbs before his shocked stare drifts to Jo. Even Y/N has halted her exit on the deck outside upon overhearing the news and blinks at her former friend, slack-jawed.

“No, I am a producer,” the blonde corrects with a triumphant smirk.

19. Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Phew! So much drama has entered the gym 👀 Welp, let’s see if Y/N can win him back in the next chapter, if Dean calms down a little, or if even more disaster is waiting for you tomorrow, babes! Can’t wait to hear your throughts and screams for this one! 🤓🖤

Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration @jessjad @deans-spinster-witch @mrsjenniferwinchester @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx​ @wayward-dreamer @foxyjwls007 @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @globetrotter28 @b3autyfuldisast3r @deansbbyx @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @eevvvaa @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @estelle127 @samanddeansannoyingsis @fictional-affairs @sarasolros @iamsapphine

[holylulusworld]

A new life - Flufftober 8

Summary: Dean and you have a new life.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: a/b/o, fluff, pregnant omega, scenting, cuddling & snuggling, domestic bliss

Trope: Nesting (a/b/o)

Catch up here: One autumn night - Flufftober 10

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Watching you roll over on your nest, Dean smiles fondly.

It’s been almost three years since you quit hunting. Your old life seems so far away. He can’t imagine going back to hunt the things that go bump in the night.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” he calls your name, smirking as you immediately lift your head to look at him. “What’s that?” Dean points at the new blanket you wrapped around your growing body. “That’s new…”

“Oh, that’s my new blankie,” you coo and snuggle into the new blanket. “It’s so soft and warm. Sammy got it for me.”

“Sam bought it for you?” Dean cocks a brow. Sam is his brother, and he’d die for him, but Dean can’t help and let his jealous streak win the upper hand. Your alpha doesn’t like seeing you wrap a blanket his brother bought around you and your unborn pup.

“Huh?” You glance at your alpha. “No, Dean. He picked it up for me from the post office. I forgot to tell you I ordered it.”

Dean nods. He visibly relaxes because Sam only picked the package up for you. “It looks soft. Where did you get it?” Your alpha steps toward the bed to tug at the blanket. “Is that a burrito?”

“Yes, it’s a burrito blanket,” you giggle. “Do you like it? It’s big enough for two. I ordered the biggest burrito blanket.”

You lift the blanket to offer the free spot to your alpha. “I got the food, sweets, and pickles you wanted,” he says, trying not to give in to his need to snuggle up to you. “Let’s eat first, sweetheart.”

“I want to snuggle with you and the new blanket,” you whine. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

Dean cocks a brow. Not an hour ago, your cravings drove you up the wall, and you begged him for pickles. Now you’re suddenly not hungry anymore.

“What did you eat?” He asks, glancing at the empty plate on the nightstand. Dean lifts the plate, sniffing at it. “That was…my pie.” He whines now. Dean saved the last slice of pie for himself, hidden in the back of the fridge.

You roll to your side, patting the empty spot on your nest. Dean is pouting and sniffs at the plate again. His eyes dart from your swollen belly to the empty plate and back.

“I got hungry,” you pucker your lips. “Very hungry, Alpha. There was nothing in the fridge but the pie.”

Dean knows you’re lying. The fridge is filled with everything you like, but you have to steal his pie.

“It’s only pie,” he places the plate back onto the nightstand. Dean kicks his shoes off and strips his clothes off to crawl onto the bed.

You smile when he presses his ear to your belly to talk to your baby.

“Hey, pie stealer. Did you get hungry? Like father, like son.” He purrs low in his throat when you run your fingers through his hair. “I got pickles, ice cream, and all the naughty things your mommy loves to eat.”

“Aw, did you hear, Dean Jr.?” you coo. “Your daddy got us all the nice things. He’s the best alpha ever.” Dean’s heart swells at your words. “Do you want to tell him we got him pie too?”

“Pie?” Dean lifts his head to look at you. “You got me pie, sweetheart? When? How?” He asks.

“Sammy delivered it,” you giggle and pat your alpha’s head. “I called him, asking for help. He got my package and pie for you.”

“My omega got pie for me,” Dean sighs happily before resting his head on your belly, nuzzling you. “She’s the best omega ever.”

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