#rositaslabyrinthwrites

[rositaslabyrinth]

Miss possessive - Dean W

Dean x female!Reader

Seeing a girl flirt with Dean at a bar is insulting. You can only take enough of watching it before going over and dragging to the backseat of the impala.

Content warnings ; smut, sex in the impala, slight handjob, unprotected sex (don’t follow their example queens), eating out, lowkey sub!dean

Word count ; 1,901

Minors PLEASE do not interact!!

The bar is buzzing with low conversations, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. You and Dean are tucked into a booth with Sam, unwinding after a long hunt. Everything is fine—until she shows up.

She’s pretty, you’ll give her that. Blonde hair, easy smile, and confidence radiating off of her as she leans against the bar right next to Dean. The first time she touches his arm, you tell yourself to let it go. The second time, when she giggles at something he says—something that wasn’t even that funny—your grip tightens around your glass.

Dean, oblivious as ever, just smirks, giving her that stupid, charming grin you know way too well.

You can’t hear everything over the music, but you don’t need to. You see the way she presses just a little too close, the way her hand lingers on his forearm, nails tracing the edge of his sleeve. She wants him, and what’s worse? She doesn’t even care that you’re sitting right there.

“Be right back,” you mutter to Sam, sliding out of the booth before he can stop you.

You don’t hesitate. You stride over, slipping right between Dean and the girl with a too-sweet smile. You place a firm hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly before wrapping your other arm around his waist.

“Hey, honey,” you purr, eyes locking onto his. “You were gone too long.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, but the second he registers the sharpness in your gaze, the tension in your grip, the way your body is pressed flush against his—oh, he gets it.

His lips twitch, amusement flickering in his expression. “Was I?”

You don’t give him a chance to say anything else before pulling him down into a kiss—one that isn’t just for show. It’s deep, possessive, a clear statement for everyone watching. Your fingers tangle in the fabric of his jacket, making damn sure he feels just how much he belongs to you.

When you finally pull away, Dean looks dazed for a second before a slow, lazy smirk spreads across his lips. “Damn,” he murmurs. “What was that for?”

You don’t answer him. Instead, you turn your gaze to the blonde, who’s now looking anywhere but at you. “Sorry,” you say with a saccharine smile. “Were you saying something?”

She stammers out an excuse before grabbing her drink and retreating fast. You watch her go, satisfaction thrumming in your chest.

Dean chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Jealous, sweetheart?”

You huff, tugging him closer by the belt loops. “You’re mine, Winchester.”

Dean leans in, voice dropping to something rough and teasing. “Yeah? Maybe you should remind me.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Dean barely has time to react before you’re gripping his jacket, pulling him toward the door. He doesn’t resist—not even a little. In fact, he chuckles under his breath, like he’s enjoying this way too much.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he murmurs as you push open the bar door and step into the cool night air. “Didn’t know you liked an audience.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you march straight to the Impala, yanking the back door open before shoving him inside. Dean lands on the leather with a grunt, looking up at you with a mix of amusement and something darker, something needy.

You climb in after him, slamming the door shut. The second you’re alone, you straddle his lap, gripping his jaw and making him look at you. His hands settle on your waist, firm and warm, but you don’t give him the chance to take control.

“Mine,” you breathe, dragging your fingers through his hair. “Say it.”

Dean swallows, his smirk faltering for just a second before his voice drops, rough and sure. “Yours.”

That’s all you need. You crash your lips against his, pouring every bit of jealousy, every ounce of possession, into the kiss. It’s all-consuming, heat coiling between you as Dean groans into your mouth, hands sliding under your jacket, gripping tight like he never wants to let go.

“You get off on this, don’t you?” he murmurs between kisses, voice teasing but breathless.

“Shut up.” You tug at his collar, exposing the line of his throat, and nip at the skin there, hard enough to leave a mark.

Dean lets out a low, pleased growl, fingers digging into your hips. “That’s my girl.”

Damn right, you are.

And before the night is over, he won’t have any doubt about who he belongs to.

You grind down against him, a low, breathy gasp escaping your lips as you feel the pressure of him beneath you. The backseat of the Impala feels too small for the heat building between you, but you don’t care. You can’t—because all that matters right now is him, and the way you can’t stop wanting him.

Dean’s hands are everywhere, sliding under your shirt, pulling at your clothes as he pulls you even closer, his chest rising and falling beneath you with each breath. He groans at the friction, his grip tightening around your waist, fingers digging into the soft curve of your hips. The heat between you is suffocating, but it only makes you press closer, matching your movements with his.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he mutters, his voice ragged, a low growl beneath the words. “You want me this bad, huh?”

You smirk against his neck, dragging your lips along his jawline, sucking softly at the sensitive skin just beneath his ear. “I always want you, Dean,” you whisper, grinding down against him again, slow and deliberate this time, drawing out the sensation.

His breath hitches, and you feel the way his pulse quickens under your fingertips. But still, he doesn’t take control. Not yet. Not until you’ve had your fill of him. His hands slip under your shirt, skin on skin, sending shivers down your spine as he pulls you in deeper, closer.

“Say it,” you breathe, your hands trailing down his chest, fingers brushing against the waistband of his jeans before pulling them and his underwear down and off him. “Say you want me, Dean.”

For a second, he hesitates, but only for a second. Then, with a rough exhale, he grabs your face, pulling you close. “I want you,” he growls, eyes locked on yours with a fire you know all too well. “I fucking want you, I’m yours,

And that’s all it takes. You slide your hands up his chest, and you’re moving against him, slow at first. Teasing. The tension thickens, your pulse thrumming as you feel the heat between you rise, every inch of him pressing against you.

You can feel the way he’s holding back—holding onto whatever little self-control he has left. But you won’t let him. Not now. You’re the one in control, and you’re going to make sure he knows it. You push him back against the leather seat, leaning down to kiss him, all fire, all heat.

Dean’s hands slide to your hips, but this time, he’s not guiding you. He’s holding on, letting you set the pace, watching you with that look in his eyes—the same one he always gets when he’s completely lost in you. His thumb brushes against your skin, tracing patterns that make your heart race.

“You’re mine,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper as you pull back to look at him. “And don’t you forget it.”

Dean’s chest heaves beneath you, his hands tightening on your hips, pulling you down closer. He’s losing it, but he’s still trying to hold on, still trying to give you what you want—but you won’t let him.

You press down, and he gasps, his hands gripping the seat beneath him as his eyes squeeze shut. “God,” he growls, his voice low, guttural. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear. “You like it,” you murmur, fingers moving to his aching cock.

Dean’s breath catches. “Fuck, yeah,” he groans, his hands finally snapping to your back, pressing you even harder against him, thrusting up into your hands even more, the friction too much to ignore.

You kiss him harder, every movement slow and deliberate. You move against him, your body sinking down on him just a little bit more each time, every inch of him filling you, stretching you in the best way possible, while you continue ti lazily stroke his base.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Dean mutters, his voice shaking as you start to move faster, pulling him in, making him feel every inch of your need. His hands are now on your back, guiding you, but it’s not enough for you. You want to be closer, deeper.

“I want you so badly,” you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you press down against him again, feeling the way his grip tightens on you, pulling you down harder.

Dean’s hand grip your hips harder, hid other hand going to the one on his cock yo grab ahold of and hold down on his chest. His control snapping as he slams up into you, a sound between a growl and a moan escaping his lips. You match his rhythm, desperate, frantic, the heat of him almost overwhelming.

He’s possessing you now, every thrust bringing him deeper, harder, until the world falls away, and it’s just the two of you, tangled in a whirlwind of heat and desire. His name falls from your lips in a desperate whisper, and that’s when everything snaps—when the tension reaches its peak, and you both break together.

You collapse against him, breathless and shaking, but he doesn’t let you go. His hands are still on you, pulling you close, his lips brushing against your forehead as you both try to catch your breath.

He helps you off of him, the way both of your fluids spill out of you back into deans skin is like a watching a waterfall. He taps your back, signaling you to move up him, which you do after a few more seconds of catching your breath.

With you hovering over his face, he had the perfect view of you, your glistening cunt from both of your come. He waisted no time, pulling you down by your hips onto his mouth groaning into you.

“Of fuck Dean, just like that, yes!” You moan out dropping your head behind you squeezing your eyes shut as you can feel his tongue swiping up through your leaking folds.

He groans into you, the vibrations coursing through your body drawing you closer to your second orgasm. You move your hips against his mouth, the feeling too good not to.

All you could get out was broken moans mixed in with barely there yelps of his name.

Once you come again, Dean works your way through it continuing to drag his tongue through you until he made sure you were clean of come

Once getting off and falling back onto his chest once again Dean’s chest rose and fell beneath you as he holds you close, the scent of leather and sweat surrounding you both. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice raw.

The moment is broken a few moments later though with a knock in the widow, jolting both of you up, dean making sure to cover you.

“Guys seriously? This is a shared car.” You hear sam scoff, before retreating back into the shared bar.

Liz talks : all I’ve been doing my entire spring break has been writing and working LMAO so two posts in two days, I hope yall like this fun little dean smut, inspired by miss possessive by Tate McRae. I also came to the conclusion that I CAN write smut I just can’t write smut dialogue so! Whatevs! I will not be looking at it after this out of sight out of mind! Let me know what yall think any kind of interaction is great <3

Tags : @deansbbyx , @deanswidow , @nymphet-quenn , @multiversefanfics , @star-maker-rain-dancer , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel

To be tagged in any future works of mine please check out this post !!

[rositaslabyrinth]

Tough love - Soldier boy

Soldier boy x female!reader

You have been really pissing Ben off, disobeying orders, causing trouble, etc. Ben decides that he needs to use his frustration and anger towards your punishment.

Content warnings : Rough sex, punishment, emotional frustration, domination, degradation, overstimulation, raw intimacy

Word count ; 1,945

Minors PLEASE do not interact!!

You’ve been pushing Soldier Boy’s buttons all night.

You know it. He knows it. But you can’t help yourself. There’s something about the way he takes everything so seriously, so rigid, that makes you want to test him—just to see how far you can go before he snaps.

Tonight, though, you may have pushed him a little too far.

You’re sitting across the room, arms crossed, watching him pace, the tension thick in the air. It started with a simple disagreement—something trivial, really—but you don’t back down, and neither does he. His jaw clenches, his eyes narrow, and you know the moment he’s had enough.

“Are you done?” he asks, his voice low, dangerous.

You just smirk. “Not even close.”

That’s when his patience finally breaks. He strides toward you in a few long steps, grabbing you by the wrist, yanking you up off the chair. Your breath hitches, but you don’t say a word.

“Enough with the games,” he growls, his grip tight on your wrist, pulling you toward the bed. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, feel his anger rising with every step. But you’ve seen this side of him before—the side that needs to take control, to remind you of who’s in charge.

“You’ve been pissing me off all night,” he murmurs, a dark edge to his voice. “And you’re gonna learn that there’s a price to pay for that.”

Before you can react, he pushes you down onto the bed, his hands moving quickly to strip you of your clothes. There’s no tenderness in his movements—just frustration, urgency. It’s like he needs to erase whatever’s been building up inside of him.

He rips your shirt off, then your pants, leaving you completely exposed beneath him. His eyes darken as he looks down at you, but there’s something else there, something that’s not just anger—desire, need. The frustration he’s been holding onto for so long is finally spilling out.

“Maybe this will teach you,” he mutters, his voice low, dripping with lust. He grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand while the other moves down between your legs, feeling how wet you are for him despite everything.

You gasp as his fingers tease over your sensitive skin, moving slow, deliberate, making you ache.

“You think you can keep teasing me like this?” he asks, his voice rough. “Think you can keep getting away with it?”

You open your mouth to speak, but he silences you, kissing you hard, swallowing any words you might have said. His lips are hungry, almost desperate, as he kisses you harder than before, his tongue demanding.

“Answer me,” he growls against your lips, his hand still holding you down as his body presses into yours.

You whimper. “No… I didn’t think—”

Before you can finish, he’s inside you—hard and fast, filling you completely in one swift motion. You gasp, your body instinctively clenching around him as he begins to move, thrusting deep, each one harder than the last.

“Didn’t think what?” he demands, his pace relentless. “Didn’t think I’d put you in your place?”

You can’t even respond—your head is spinning, your body caught between the roughness and the overwhelming pleasure. The bed creaks beneath you with every thrust, and you can hear his breath, shallow and ragged, as he pushes into you again and again.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “You’re so damn tight. Don’t think I won’t remind you who’s in charge.”

He lets go of your wrists, his hands moving to your hips, slamming you down against him harder. You gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pounds into you, each thrust so deep you can barely breathe.

The room is filled with the sound of his skin slapping against yours, the air thick with desperation, frustration, and need. His grip on your hips tightens as he forces you to meet each of his thrusts, making you feel every inch of him.

“You think you can get away with messing with me?” he growls, his voice dark with pleasure as his pace never falters. “Think you can push my buttons and get nothing in return?”

His thrusts become more frantic, more desperate, and you can feel him losing control, just as much as you are. You’re already so close to the edge, your body burning with need.

“Tell me you’re sorry,” he demands, his voice sharp as he looks down at you.

You can barely form words, your breath hitching with every movement. “I’m sorry,” you manage to gasp out, your head spinning. “I didn’t mean it.”

He slams into you again, his body tense, but there’s a softness in his gaze now—almost like he needed this, needed to hear you say it.

“Good girl,” he mutters, his pace never slowing. The words only push you further, your orgasm building, that tight knot in your stomach growing.

Finally, with one last deep thrust, he comes inside you, his body jerking as he releases a groan of satisfaction. His grip on your hips loosens, and he collapses beside you, both of you breathless, your bodies still trembling.

You both lie there, trying to catch your breath, the weight of what just happened still hanging in the air between you. You’re both exhausted, but there’s something in the way Soldier Boy’s gaze lingers on you—something that tells you he’s not quite done yet.

You can feel it before he even moves. His hand grips your wrist again, yanking you into a sitting position, pulling you toward him with force. His chest is still rising and falling rapidly, but there’s no softness in his eyes, no sign of the tender side that had surfaced just a moment ago.

“You think it’s over?” he growls, his hand firmly gripping your chin as he forces you to look up at him. The edge of his anger is still there, sharper now, like it’s never fully been released. “You think I’ll just let you walk away after that?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you shake your head, knowing exactly where this is going.

He’s not done punishing you. He wants more. And somewhere deep inside, you know you deserve it.

Ben drags pulls you back up, this time pushing you onto your hands and knees, your body exposed beneath him. He takes his time, letting his hands roam over your back, your waist, your ass—teasing, but with that same, unrelenting energy.

“You want to push my buttons, huh?” His voice is low, deep, dripping with something dangerous. “Think you can get away with it?”

You don’t answer. You don’t think you can. But you don’t need to.

He slaps your ass—hard. You yelp in surprise, the sting burning into your skin, but it makes your body react in a way you can’t ignore. It feels right.

Another slap. Your breath hitches, but this time, you’re starting to feel the heat building in your core. You want more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his hand sliding between your legs, finding your sensitive spot again with a deft touch. He’s not being gentle now, his fingers pressing harder, rougher. “You want this, don’t you? Want me to break you.”

You bite your lip, trying to stay quiet. He presses harder, making your body tremble with the force of his touch. “Tell me,” he demands, his voice sharp. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you gasp, your head dropping as you feel the need building again.

He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating in his chest. “I bet you do.” His hand moves to your waist, pulling you up onto your knees, your back against his chest. His voice is low, almost a growl. “You wanted to test me, so now you’re gonna pay.”

He moves swiftly now, spinning you back around and pushing you back onto the bed. He hovers over you, his eyes dark with lust and something else—something that’s been buried beneath the surface, waiting for a chance to break free.

“You wanted me to teach you a lesson, right?” His hand moves between your legs again, but this time, he doesn’t let you feel any relief. Instead, he teases you, pushing you just to the edge, only to pull away.

“Don’t make me say it again,” he warns, his tone harsh, his hands pinning your wrists down above your head.

You moan, your body aching for him, for more. “Please,” you beg, your voice trembling. “Please, Ben, don’t stop.”

His smirk returns, and then he’s sliding into you once more, slow at first, like he’s savoring it, letting the tension build again.

“I’m not stopping,” he mutters against your ear. “Not until you learn what happens when you mess with me.”

The way he moves now is calculated—deliberate, punishing, each thrust deeper than the last, the power he’s putting behind it leaving you gasping. He grips your wrists tighter, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps as he picks up the pace.

You can’t think, can’t breathe—he’s taking everything from you, using you, and all you can do is feel.

Your body betrays you, though, betraying the act. The pressure in your core builds again, and this time, you can’t hold it in. You want this, you want him to keep going, even though you can’t keep your thoughts straight.

“I don’t think you’ve had enough yet,” he murmurs, and with that, his pace quickens, harder, faster, more brutal.

You come again, your body clenching around him, a mix of frustration and relief flooding through you. But even as you fall apart, he doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t stop.

His hand slides between your legs once more, rubbing at your sensitive clit, pushing you through it, overstimulating you until you can’t tell where one orgasm ends and the next begins.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice hoarse as his movements become more frantic. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe, your voice trembling from the intensity. “I’m yours, Ben. Please, don’t stop.”

With a final, almost feral growl, he thrusts deep, coming inside you as his body trembles with the release, his grip on you tightening as he holds you down.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. The tension in the room slowly dissipates, and the air is heavy with both relief and something else—something you both needed.

But instead of pulling away, he’s still there, his body still pressed against yours, his eyes dark and unrelenting. “You didn’t really think that was enough, did you?”

Before you can respond, he pulls out and flips you over onto your stomach, pushing you down against the bed, holding you in place. He’s not done. He’s not anywhere close to done.

“You’re gonna take this,” he growls, his voice rough, his hands moving between your legs again. “And you’re gonna remember who’s in charge next time you think about testing me.”

He enters you again, no mercy, his thrusts brutal and fast, making you moan loudly with every movement. The bed creaks under him as he drives into you, using you to satisfy his frustration, pushing you past any sense of exhaustion.

Your body can’t keep up with him, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care. He’s determined to make sure you never forget this moment.

When he’s finally done, his body still heavy over yours, you’re left breathless and trembling beneath him. There’s no softness in his touch, only the weight of his dominance lingering in the air.

“Don’t ever forget who’s in charge here,” he mutters against your ear, his voice cold but full of a possessive need that makes your head spin.

Liz talks : first soldier boy fic guys and let me tell yall this has been sitting in my tumblr drafts FOR WEEKKKSSSS but I’ve finally felt comfortable enough to post it lmaoo (me and my insane posting habits I need a schedule BAD) so here yall go!! Any and all type of feedback is appreciated <3

Tag list : @deansbbyx , @nymphet-quenn , @juicifeur , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel

If you want to be tagged in any future works of mine please check out THIS post !!

[rositaslabyrinth]

He’s your bf headcanons - Dean W

Dean Winchester x gn!reader

There aren’t any content warnings so everyone can enjoy <3

Headcanons and scenarios based on Dean being your boyfriend

Word count ; 997

── .✦ Protective to a Fault

⟢ Dean is intensely protective, and yeah, a lot of that comes from the life he leads. If you’re a hunter, he insists on watching your back, always putting himself between you and danger. If you’re not, then good luck ever getting him to let you out of his sight when things get even remotely suspicious.

⟢ But it’s not just about monsters and demons—it’s in the little things, too. The way he walks on the outside of the sidewalk, the way his hand finds the small of your back in a crowded bar, the way he instinctively reaches for you in his sleep, even when he’s dead tired. He won’t always say he’s worried about you, but it’s in the way he brings you an extra layer when it’s cold, in the way he subtly checks you over after a hunt, his fingers ghosting over your skin like he’s making sure you’re still in one piece.

⟢ “You get hurt, and I swear—” he grumbles, shaking his head. But the way his fingers tighten around yours tells you the rest of what he won’t say out loud.

── .✦ Physical Affection Is His Love language

⟢ Dean pretends he’s the tough guy, all gruff and distant, but in reality? He’s touchy. And he doesn’t even realize it most of the time. He pulls you into his side when you’re standing next to him, rests his hand on your knee when he’s driving, absently plays with your fingers when you’re sitting together in the bunker. When he kisses you, he does it like he means it—deep, slow, like he’s memorizing the way you taste.

⟢ And after a long day? He won’t say he needs to hold you, but you’ll feel it in the way he tugs you into his arms, letting out a long breath as his chin rests against the top of your head. It’s how he grounds himself—reminding himself you’re here, safe, his.

── .✦ He Loves to Make You Laugh

⟢ Dean thrives on making you laugh. He’ll do the dumbest impressions, tell the worst dad jokes, even break out ridiculous dance moves just to see you crack a smile. If you’re upset, he’s all sarcastic quips and exaggerated antics, nudging you until you roll your eyes and finally let out a little laugh. And when you do? He grins like he just won the lottery.

⟢ “See? That’s the face I like. Much better, sweetheart.”

── .✦ Cooking for You Is One of His Biggest Love Languages

⟢ Dean Winchester might not be the most eloquent guy when it comes to feelings, but he sure as hell knows how to put love into a plate of food. He loves cooking for you—whether it’s a greasy diner-style breakfast with extra bacon or a late-night burger when you’re too exhausted to eat anything else. And if you compliment his cooking? Oh, he preens.

⟢ “Damn right, baby, best cook you’ve ever had.”

⟢ That being said, expect him to be extremely opinionated about what qualifies as “real food.” If you bring home something remotely healthy, he just squints at it like it personally insulted him.

⟢ “What even is that? Kale? That’s rabbit food, sweetheart. You’re killin’ me.”

── .✦ His Jealousy Is Subtle, but It’s There

⟢ Dean’s the type of guy who trusts you—he’s not about to smother you or get insecure over nothing. But if someone’s too friendly with you? Oh, you’ll see the shift. His jaw sets, his arm finds its way around your waist, and his voice drops just a little lower. He won’t cause a scene, but the way he stares at the guy who won’t stop flirting with you? Yeah. It’s a warning.

⟢ And later, when you’re alone? He won’t admit he was jealous, but he’ll tug you onto his lap, kiss you slow and deep, and mutter, “Just makin’ sure you know who you belong to, sweetheart.”

── .✦ He’s a Wreck When It Comes to Losing You

⟢ Dean is terrified of losing the people he loves. He’s been through too much, lost too many, and the idea of something happening to you? It eats at him. He hides it well—makes jokes, pretends he’s got it under control—but when you’re hurt? That’s when the mask slips.

⟢ “Damn it, sweetheart—what were you thinking? You could’ve—” He stops himself, running a hand over his face, exhaling hard. Then he pulls you into his chest, his heartbeat fast and uneven. “Just… don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

── .✦ He Loves Falling Asleep with You

⟢ Dean’s never been the type to be good at sleeping. Too many nightmares, too many nights spent on the road, gun under his pillow, waiting for something to go wrong. But you? You make it easier. When you’re curled up beside him, tucked against his chest, his arm slung over your waist—it’s the closest thing to peace he’s had in years.

⟢ And if he wakes up in the middle of the night, restless? He just reaches for you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin, grounding himself in the steady rise and fall of your breathing.

── .✦ He’s Lowkey the Best Boyfriend Ever, Even If He Won’t Admit It

⟢ Dean Winchester will never call himself a romantic. He’ll roll his eyes if you say it. But the truth is? He is. He just doesn’t realize it. It’s in the way he remembers exactly how you like your coffee. In the way he brings you back little trinkets from cases because they reminded him of you. In the way he sings to you—badly, and usually off-key—when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

⟢ He’s not good at talking about feelings, but he shows them in every little thing he does.

⟢ And when you finally tell him, “You know you’re actually the best boyfriend ever, right?”—he just huffs, shaking his head with a smirk.

⟢ “Damn right I am. Took you long enough to notice, sweetheart.”

First headcanon post!!! Also I’m just going to be tagging all of my mutuals so if you don’t want to be tagged in my posts please please let me know!! I don’t want to be that person LMFAO

Tags : @daylighted @sunsettsam @clairiecidal @deerainy @emeraldcrs @deanangel @s4wdvator @morganwrites12672 @bluemerakis @bohemianblasphemy @velvetdandeli0n @sunsbaby @deanswidow @cherrygirlfriend @angelackless @figthoughts @deansbbyx @vmiina @deanspookiebear @aambearr @deansmisha @star-yawnznn @soldiersgirl

[rositaslabyrinth]

NSFW headcanons - Dean W

Dean Winchester x female!reader

Content warnings : teasing, kissing, dirty talk, rough, pinning, smut lol

Just complete smut in headcanon form, enjoy!!

Word count ; 921

Minors PLEASE do not interact!!

He’s an Absolute Tease

⟢ Dean lives for teasing you. It’s in the way his fingers graze over your skin, barely touching, in the way his lips ghost over yours but don’t quite press in for a kiss. He’ll smirk when you start getting impatient, dragging things out just to hear you whine.

⟢ “What’s the rush, sweetheart? You got somewhere better to be?”

⟢ He’ll take his time kissing down your body, murmuring against your skin, making you beg before he finally gives in. But once he does? Oh, he makes it worth the wait.

He’s All About Making You Lose Control

⟢ Dean wants you messy for him. He wants to hear you—wants you breathless, moaning, gasping his name. If you try to hold back, he’ll notice. And he won’t like it.

⟢ “C’mon, baby, don’t do that shy shit with me. I wanna hear you.”

⟢ If you’re trying to keep quiet? He’ll just work you over even slower, pressing rough, deliberate kisses to your neck, dragging his hands down your body, murmuring, “That’s better. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

He’s a Little Rough—But It’s Always Because He Knows You Can Take It

⟢ Dean’s not gentle. He’s not some slow, soft lover—not unless he knows you need it. Most of the time, it’s desperate, a little rough, full of heat and need. He grips your hips hard enough to leave bruises, drags his teeth over your skin just to hear you gasp, leaves marks on your thighs because he wants you thinking about him tomorrow.

⟢ “That’s it, sweetheart—take it. You can handle it, can’t you?”

⟢ But if you tell him to ease up? He will—immediately. Dean knows how strong he is, and the second he feels you hesitate, he’s pulling back, eyes searching yours. “Too much?” he murmurs, voice softer, thumb tracing over your cheek. If you shake your head, he grins. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

He Loves Using His Mouth on You—And He’s Good at It

⟢ Dean lives between your thighs. He loves the way you tremble under his tongue, the way you arch up when he sucks just right. But what really gets him going? The way you lose yourself, the way you completely come undone just because of him.

⟢ And he loves eye contact. The second you try to look away, he grips your thighs, keeping you in place as he stares up at you with that cocky smirk. “Nah-uh, sweetheart—keep your eyes on me.”

⟢ And when you get close? He can feel it. That little hitch in your breath, the way your fingers tighten in his hair. And instead of letting up, he just grips your hips, locking you in place as he finishes you off, groaning against your skin as he pulls every last drop of pleasure from you.

Dean talks. A lot. And it’s filthy.

⟢ “You’re so damn good for me, baby—look at you.”

⟢ “God, I love the way you sound.”

⟢ “You like that, sweetheart? Huh? Yeah, you do.”

⟢ And if you ever talk back—if you ever throw some attitude his way? Oh, he lives for that. He’ll pin you down, smirk against your skin, and murmur, “Keep that up, sweetheart. See what happens.”

He Loves Watching You Fall Apart Because of Him

⟢ Dean’s a visual guy. He loves seeing what he does to you—the way your body moves, the way your face contorts with pleasure, the way your fingers grip the sheets or claw at his back. He’ll watch you the entire time, eyes locked onto you, taking in every reaction. And when you finally hit your peak? That’s when he loses it, groaning as he buries himself deeper, completely wrecked by the sight of you coming apart for him.

⟢ “Fuck, baby, that’s it—just like that.”

He Loves When You Take Control—But Only for a Little While

⟢ Dean likes being in control, but when you straddle him, push him down, take what you want? Oh, he’s all for it. He’ll grin up at you, hands gripping your waist, watching with hungry eyes as you move above him.

⟢ “Damn, baby, look at you.”

⟢ But don’t expect to keep the upper hand for too long. Because the second he gets impatient? He’s flipping you over, pinning you down, showing you exactly who’s in charge.

⟢ “You had your fun, sweetheart—now it’s my turn.”

He’s Insatiable—But Only Because He Needs You

⟢ Dean’s appetite is relentless. One round? That’s cute. The second he’s caught his breath, he’s dragging you back in, lips on yours, hands roaming your body, already hungry for more.

⟢ “Think you can handle another, sweetheart?” he murmurs, grinning against your skin. And if you so much as hesitate? That’s it—he’s rolling you under him, smirking. “Too late. I need you again.”

His Aftercare Is Perfect

⟢ Dean might be all rough edges during the act, but afterward? He’s soft. He pulls you into his chest, pressing lazy kisses to your hair, running his fingers over your skin as he murmurs little praises.

⟢ “Damn, sweetheart. You okay?” He grins when you nod, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good. ‘Cause you were fuckin’ amazing.”

⟢ He’ll get you water, clean you up, maybe even pull you into a warm bath with him if he’s feeling extra sweet. And if you’re sore? He’ll definitely tease you.

⟢ “What’s the matter, baby? Can’t walk? Huh. Wonder whose fault that is.”

⟢ But at the end of the day, he’s there—tucking you into his side, kissing your forehead, whispering against your skin, “Get some sleep, sweetheart. I got you.”

Liz talks : this was also sitting in my drafts but once again I decided to post it now while I’m working on something else most likely will be posted tmrw night or Sunday!!! Hope yall think this is accurate LMAOO

Tags : @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @deansbbyx , @deanswidow , @nymphet-quenn , @multiversefanfics , @star-maker-rain-dancer

To be tagged in any future works of mine you can check out this post !!

[rositaslabyrinth]

Landslide - Sam W

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Years after walking away from hunting—and from Sam—you find yourself on his doorstep again. Some wounds heal with time. Others just wait.

Warnings : just slight angst maybe?? I don’t think there are any!!

Word count ; 2,591

You didn’t expect him to open the door so fast.

Maybe you thought you’d have a moment to change your mind—to run like you always do. But when the cabin door creaked open and you saw him standing there, tall and quiet and so achingly familiar, your feet stayed rooted to the ground.

He hadn’t changed much. A little older around the eyes, maybe. Softer in the way he held his shoulders. But his presence hit you like a memory you didn’t realize you still carried.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, like it hurt to say it out loud.

You swallowed. “Hey.”

There were a hundred things you should’ve said. A hundred more you wanted to. But neither of you reached for them. Instead, Sam stepped aside and let you in like no time had passed at all.

The cabin smelled like cedarwood and dust, like old books and something distinctly him. It was warm, lived-in, nothing like the motels you used to crash in after long hunts. There were throw blankets on the couch, boots by the door. A real life.

You didn’t ask if you could stay. You didn’t have to.

He made grilled cheese.

You stood near the window as he worked, watching the last light of the day fade behind the treeline. The mountains cradled the sky in silence, turning everything blue and gold.

“Still like it the same way?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

You smiled faintly. “Burnt edges, extra cheese.”

He smirked. “Some things don’t change.”

“No,” you said, quieter, “I guess they don’t.”

He handed you a plate and nodded toward the table. You both sat, the old wooden chairs creaking under your weight like they remembered more than you did.

It felt strange—this domestic calm between you, like a dream borrowed from someone else’s life.

“So,” you said after a beat. “Colorado?”

He shrugged. “Felt like the place to go.”

“Not a lot of monsters around here.”

He glanced up at you. “That’s why I picked it.”

You nodded slowly. Sam looked down at his food, then back at you, eyes full of the kind of silence that used to live between you. That familiar ache.

“I missed you,” he said.

Your breath caught. “You don’t even know if I’m still the same person.”

“I don’t care.”

Later, you sat on the porch together, a bottle of whiskey between you. The stars were so bright they didn’t feel real. The kind of night that makes the world feel untouched.

Inside, an old radio played—quiet enough to be background noise, until the chords of Landslide drifted through the open window.

Your chest tightened.

Sam shifted beside you. “You still like this song?”

You stared out at the trees. “Always.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then—

“Why’d you leave?”

You looked down at your hands, at the way your fingers were knotted in your lap like a child’s. “Because I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of what we were becoming. Of what I was becoming. The blood, the loss… the life. It was swallowing me whole.”

Sam nodded. His voice was soft. “I was scared too.”

You glanced at him. He was looking straight ahead, his profile lit faintly by the moonlight.

“I thought you’d chase me,” you said.

He exhaled. “I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But I figured… if you wanted to go, I shouldn’t stop you.”

“And if I didn’t?”

His gaze shifted toward you, slow and deliberate. “Then I was a coward.”

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?Can I handle the seasons of my life

The song played on, winding around the quiet like it was made for moments like this. You leaned back against the porch post, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Do you ever think about it?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. “About what we could’ve been?”

Sam’s answer was instant. “Every day

You looked at him then—really looked at him. His eyes were tired but kind, full of sorrow and something else. Something warm. Something still beating.

You reached for him, tentative.

He didn’t hesitate.

He took your hand, fingers lacing through yours like they belonged there. Like no time had passed at all.

Well, I’ve been afraid of changing

‘Cause I built my life around you…

“I still love you,” you said.

Sam turned toward you, eyes glassy in the moonlight.

“I never stopped,” you added, voice breaking. “Even when I tried to.”

He let out a shaky breath. Moved closer.

“Then stay,” he said.

And this time, you didn’t run.

You let him wrap his arms around you, let your face rest against his chest, let his heartbeat fill your ears like an old song you’d forgotten the words to. He kissed the top of your head like it was instinct, like his body remembered how to love you before his mind could catch up.

The wind moved softly through the trees. The record skipped, then continued.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt the weight of the past lift—just a little.

You had survived the landslide.

Now all that was left was to build something new.

You woke to birdsong and the rustle of wind through pine trees.

And warmth.

The kind of warmth that came from a body next to yours, from skin against skin. From peace.

Sam’s arms were around you, loose but protective. One hand rested at your waist, the other tucked beneath his pillow. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, slow and even.

It should’ve felt unfamiliar. But it didn’t.

You let yourself stay still for a moment longer, eyes closed, listening to the quiet hum of the morning and the rhythmic sound of his breathing.

You’d almost convinced yourself last night had been a dream.

But then his thumb moved, just slightly, brushing the soft fabric of your shirt. You didn’t move. You weren’t ready to break the spell just yet.

“You awake?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Your eyes fluttered open. “Yeah.”

He shifted behind you, pulling you in a little closer. “I thought I might’ve imagined you.”

You smiled, small and sad. “I thought I’d be gone by now.”

His arm tightened slightly. “I’m glad you’re not.”

You turned then, rolling to face him. His eyes were half-lidded, hair tousled, the kind of sleepy beautiful that made your chest ache. You reached up and brushed a strand away from his forehead.

“You look older,” you said softly.

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “Gee, thanks.”

You smiled. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just… life’s been happening to you.”

He nodded, eyes on yours. “Yeah. It’s been happening to you too.”

You looked away for a second, your gaze drifting toward the window, where sunlight filtered in through thin curtains.

“I never thought I’d come back,” you whispered.

“But you did,” he said. “And I’m not gonna ask you why. Not yet.”

You looked back at him. “Thank you.”

He reached for your hand beneath the blanket, linking your fingers. His touch was so gentle you almost didn’t feel it.

“I kept thinking,” he said quietly, “if I ever saw you again, I’d be angry. Hurt. I’d want answers.”

“Do you?”

He shook his head. “I just want you to stay.”

There was a long pause.

“I don’t know who I am without the road,” you said, voice thick. “Without the hunts. Without the blood. I don’t know how to be still.”

“You don’t have to know yet,” Sam said. “You just have to want to try.”

You looked at him then, really looked—at the way he watched you with that old, familiar tenderness. At the hope in his voice even when it was cautious. Even when he was scared.

“I do want to try,” you said.

His hand slid to your cheek. He leaned in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

The kiss was soft. Barely there. Nothing like the ones you used to share in motel rooms after hunts gone wrong—full of desperation and adrenaline. This was slower. Honest. A first kiss all over again.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too,” you said. “Every day.”

Later, you sat in the kitchen with two mismatched mugs of coffee between you and a blanket still wrapped around your shoulders. The morning sun poured through the windows, painting the floor in soft gold.

The old record player in the corner crackled to life again. You hadn’t realized he still had it.

He glanced up at you as it played, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I never got rid of it.”

You tilted your head. “The Fleetwood Mac record?”

He nodded. “You left it behind. Thought maybe you’d come back for it someday.”

You swallowed, something thick rising in your throat. “And if I hadn’t?”

“I would’ve kept it anyway.”

You laughed under your breath, brushing away a tear before it could fall. “You’re still such a sap.”

He leaned in and kissed your temple, just once. “Only for you.”

You looked at him then, really looked—at the man who waited, who never stopped making room for you, even in silence.

Mornings became your new kind of prayer.

Not the kind where you whispered names before stepping into danger. Not the kind where you begged the universe to keep him safe. But the soft, holy kind. The one that came with the smell of fresh coffee and the way Sam always ran his fingers through your hair before getting out of bed.

You started waking up earlier just to watch him go through his routine.

He was quiet in the mornings—always had been. Thoughtful. Kind. The sort of man who didn’t talk until you did, who made breakfast and passed you the first mug like it was instinct.

You didn’t talk much at first. It felt safer that way. Safer to just be.

But one morning, you reached for the cutting board before he could.

“I’ll make the eggs today,” you said.

Sam blinked like it had never occurred to him that you’d do something so… normal. “Okay.”

So you stood side by side in the tiny kitchen, shoulder brushing shoulder, as the skillet warmed and the morning sun painted his face in honey light. You felt like you were learning him all over again—not as a hunter, not as a legend, not as someone you lost—but as someone you could build a life with.

He handed you the salt. You passed him the bread. It was nothing and everything at once.

Later that week, you found the box.

It was buried beneath the stairs, beneath some old flannels and notebooks full of research that probably hadn’t been touched in years.

Your name was written on the lid in Sam’s handwriting.

You brought it upstairs quietly and set it on the coffee table, fingers hovering.

“You kept this?” you asked as he came in from the porch.

He looked at the box and paused.

“…Yeah.”

Inside: your old leather jacket, faded photos from your early hunts together, the silver ring you’d worn on your middle finger for years. A crumpled napkin from a bar in Austin with your number scrawled on it.

You looked up at him. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”

He sat beside you, closer than before. “I remembered everything.”

And then, his hand over yours.

You didn’t pull away.

That night, the ache shifted. The silence between you wasn’t heavy anymore. It felt warm. Comfortable.

Sam brushed his fingers down your spine as you sat together on the porch swing, your head tucked into the crook of his shoulder.

“You think we could make it work?” you asked. “For real this time?”

“I think we already are.”

You let yourself believe it.

And then you kissed him—really kissed him—for the first time in years. It was slow and sure and soaked in everything unsaid. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask questions. The kind that said welcome home.

You didn’t go back to your room that night. You stayed wrapped in his sheets, in his arms, in the warmth of something you’d both been too scared to hope for.

For the first time in a long time, you let yourself dream.

The house was quiet. For once.

There were toys scattered across the hallway—plastic dinosaurs and half-built block towers. The fridge was covered in construction paper hearts and drawings done in crayon, all crooked lines and backwards letters.

You sat on the porch, wrapped in a soft flannel blanket, a mug of tea resting in your hands. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the backyard in gold. The swing creaked lazily beside you. And from inside, there was the faint sound of Sam’s voice reading something aloud.

A children’s book, you guessed.

You smiled, sipping your tea, as the screen door creaked open behind you.

“She’s out cold,” Sam said, stepping outside, a soft grin on his face. “Took a whole three pages of Goodnight Moon tonight.”

“She’s growing,” you said, looking up at him. “Too fast.”

He sat beside you, reaching to pull the blanket over his lap. You tucked yourself into his side, like always. His arm settled around your shoulders with the ease of habit.

“She asked about monsters today,” he said quietly.

Your smile faltered. “What’d you tell her?”

“That they aren’t real. Not the ones she needs to worry about, anyway.”

You were quiet for a moment, your hand resting over his chest where his heartbeat still thudded strong and steady.

“You ever miss it?” you asked. “The road?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. His eyes were on the horizon, on the trees swaying in the evening breeze.

“Sometimes,” he said. “The clarity of it. The purpose. But not enough to trade this. Not even close.”

You reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

“I think about her sometimes,” you murmured. “The me that left. The one who thought she’d never make it back.”

“She came back,” he said softly. “She made it home.”

He looked at you then, really looked—eyes full of that same warmth, that same quiet knowing he’d always had.

Inside, something shifted. The front door creaked. Tiny footsteps padded across the floor.

You both looked over your shoulders just as your son—barefoot, hair sticking up—peeked out, clutching a well-worn blanket.

“Mama?”

You stood up, crossing to him in seconds.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

He shook his head.

You scooped him into your arms and carried him back to the porch. Sam reached for him instinctively, settling him against his chest as the little one yawned and nestled in.

You sat back down, brushing a hand over your son’s hair.

Sam looked over at you, eyes shining in the fading light.

“Can you believe this is ours?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at your boy, at Sam, at the house behind you and the slow, sacred stillness of the moment.

“I believe it,” you said. “Every day.”

And as the sun slipped lower, as fireflies began to flicker in the yard and your son fell asleep between you, Sam pressed a kiss to your temple.

The landslide had come. It had changed you. Broken you, even.

But it had also brought you here—to this porch, this life, this love.

And you had never felt steadier.

Liz talks : I think this is my first official sam fic? Outside of series!!!! I wanted to try something different I hope this is good I genuinely can’t tell LMFAOO I had this song stuck in my head all week last week so obviously I had to make this <33

Tags : @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel , @sunnyteume , @deanswifeyy , @tinas111 , @deanswidow , @nymphet-quenn , @multiversefanfics , @star-maker-rain-dancer , @juicifeur , @saltcxrcle , @mochiclouds , @kimxwinchester

To be tagged in any future works of mine please check out this post !!

Any engagement is greatly appreciated <33

[rositaslabyrinth]

Castiel “Castles crumbling”

Castiel x fem!reader

Helping cas recover after losing his grace

Words ; 943

The warehouse was unnervingly quiet now, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights flickering overhead. The metallic scent of blood and the acrid tang of smoke clung to the air, a suffocating reminder of the fight that had just ended.

Your legs carried you forward on instinct, the weight of everything that had just happened settling on your chest. Dean and Sam were a few steps behind, speaking in hushed tones about their next move, but their words faded into background noise as your eyes locked on Castiel.

He was slumped against the cold, concrete wall, his trench coat hanging off his shoulders like it was too heavy for him to bear. His head was tilted back, his eyes half-closed, and for the first time, he looked truly, utterly defeated.

It wasn’t just exhaustion. It was something deeper, something that made your throat tighten and your heart twist painfully in your chest.

You dropped to your knees beside him, hesitating only for a moment before reaching out. “Cas?”

His eyes cracked open at the sound of your voice, but they didn’t hold the piercing light you were used to. They were dull now, almost lifeless. He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head faintly. “You shouldn’t���” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “You shouldn’t waste your time on me.”

“Don’t say that,” you said quickly, your hand hovering over his arm, unsure if he would pull away. “You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

He let out a dry, bitter laugh that didn’t sound like him at all. “Help me? You can’t help what’s already broken.”

“Cas—”

“I’m nothing now,” he interrupted, his tone sharper, more biting. His gaze shifted away from you, fixing somewhere in the distance. “My grace is gone. I’ve fallen. I was an angel of the Lord, and now I’m…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“Now you’re human,” you finished for him, your voice soft.

His head turned sharply, and for a moment, his expression was one of disbelief—maybe even anger. “Human,” he echoed bitterly. “Do you have any idea what that means? I’ve lost everything. My purpose, my power, my… everything I was. My foes and friends alike have seen me fall.” His voice cracked, and he looked away again, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t even know how it could’ve ended this way.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you struggled to keep your voice steady as you reached for him again. This time, you didn’t hesitate. You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Listen to me,” you said firmly, your thumbs brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “You are not nothing, Castiel. Do you hear me? You’re still you. You’re the one who saved me, who saved Dean and Sam, who saved the world more times than I can count. You’ve fought for humanity, for people you didn’t even know, and for what? To tell me now that you’re nothing? I won’t let you say that.”

His blue eyes, so dull and lifeless moments ago, searched yours now, and you saw the cracks in the wall he was trying so desperately to keep up. “I’ve failed,” he whispered. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I’ve only ever caused pain. To Heaven. To you.”

“You haven’t failed,” you said, your voice trembling as you leaned closer. “You’ve done more good than you’ll ever know. And you’re not alone. Do you hear me? You’ll never be alone.”

His hands came up hesitantly, resting over yours as if grounding himself in your touch. “I don’t know how to be this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to be… human.”

“You don’t have to figure it out on your own,” you said, leaning your forehead against his. “You have me. You have Dean and Sam. You have us, Cas. And we’re not going anywhere.”

For a long moment, he didn’t respond, the weight of your words hanging in the space between you. Then, slowly, he leaned into you, his hands tightening slightly over yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words so quiet you almost didn’t hear them.

Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, the air between you shifting. There was a hesitation in his expression, a question he didn’t voice aloud. But when he leaned in, the kiss was soft, tentative, as if he were afraid you might break under his touch.

You kissed him back, your fingers threading through his hair, pouring everything you couldn’t say into that moment—your admiration, your affection, your love.

When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and for the first time since Metatron had stolen his grace, there was a faint light in his eyes.

“Uh, hate to interrupt your little moment,” Dean’s voice cut through the quiet, making you jump, “but we gotta get moving. This place isn’t exactly safe.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t move far from Castiel. His hand found yours, and when you glanced at him, his expression was soft but steady.

Dean raised a brow but didn’t comment further, leading the way out with Sam close behind.

As the four of you left the warehouse, Castiel’s hand remained in yours, his grip firm and grounding. He might have lost his grace, his power, and the castle he’d once built, but as you walked beside him, you silently vowed to help him rebuild—brick by brick, piece by piece.

And this time, he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

[rositaslabyrinth]

Call it what you want - angel grace vial!reader

How she gets her name ⭑.ᐟ

She wasn’t supposed to be human, and she wasn’t supposed to need a name—but Dean gives her one anyway.

Warnings : none, this just isn’t bunker accurate so pretend that the bunker has a living room !!

Word count ; 1,466

You didn’t know what to do with your hands.

That was a problem you’d discovered quickly about being human—there were too many little, insignificant things to keep track of. Breathing. Blinking. Hands.

You kept fidgeting with the sleeves of the hoodie Sam had given you, pulling at the fabric like it might make you feel more settled in your skin. It didn’t.

Dean was pacing. He had been ever since they sat you down at the Bunker’s map table to figure out what the hell to do with you.

“Alright, let’s go over this again,” Dean said, rubbing a hand over his face before gesturing vaguely at you. “You’re… what, exactly? A test tube bottle?”

You flinched slightly. Not at the words themselves, but at the sharp frustration laced into his voice. You weren’t sure what to do with emotions—not yours, not his. It was all too much, too close.

Sam shot Dean a look. “Dean—”

“What? We still don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Dean shot back. “We can’t just keep calling her—” He gestured at you, then frowned. “See? That’s the problem. We don’t even know what the hell to call you.”

Sam sighed, glancing at you. “Do you… have a name?” You hesitated. “I wasn’t given one.” Sam frowned. “Well, do you want one?”

Another pause. You curled your fingers into the sleeves of the hoodie, thinking. A name. It felt too solid, too permanent for something like you. Names were for people. You weren’t even sure you were real yet.

“I don’t know,” you admitted softly. Dean exhaled sharply. “Great. That makes this easier.”

You shrank a little, suddenly feeling too small under his gaze. You didn’t understand what you were supposed to do with all of this—conversations, questions, the expectation of being something.

Dean, still pacing, waved a hand in your direction. “Alright, look, we’re not gonna keep calling you ‘Grace Vial’ like you’re some kind of freaking science experiment. So, until we figure something else out…”

He paused for half a second, then shrugged. “V. We’ll call you V.” Silence.

You blinked at him. Sam blinked at him. Dean stared back at both of you like he didn’t see what the big deal was. “…V?” Sam repeated, unimpressed.

“Yeah, V,” Dean said, crossing his arms. “Short. Simple. Better than ‘Angel Test Tube.’”

You tilted your head slightly. V. It was nothing—just a letter. But it was yours, now.

It settled over you strangely. Not heavy, not suffocating—just… there.

V.

You looked up at Dean, unsure why, but he was already looking away, like he didn’t want to acknowledge that he’d done something weirdly significant.

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Real creative, Dean.”

Dean shrugged. “Hey, she didn’t have any suggestions. You want me to go with something like Celestianna or whatever the hell?”

You blinked again. “…I think I like V.”

Dean paused, glancing at you for a moment before quickly looking away again. “Yeah, well. Don’t get too attached. We’re still figuring out what to do with you.”

But the thing was—you already were attached. Because now, you weren’t just something broken. You were V.

Dean leaned back in his chair with a groan, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, now that we’ve got the whole name situation figured out, time to get back to the actual problem.”

Sam was already flipping open one of the lore books they’d pulled from the library. “Yeah, we need to figure out what V is and how she became human. There’s gotta be something in the records about a Grace turning into a person.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, because everything in this world makes sense.”

V shrank slightly, still curled up in the hoodie Sam had given her. She wasn’t sure how to feel about being the subject of a research session, but she understood why it was necessary. She didn’t understand herself, either.

Sam pushed up from his chair, already in full research mode. “I’ll start in the library. There’s gotta be something in the Men of Letters archives.”

Dean groaned. “Fantastic. So, what, you’re gonna be locked in there all night?”

Sam ignored him. “It’s gonna take a while, so you two just—” He waved a vague hand between Dean and V, like they were kids he was leaving alone for the first time. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, yeah. Knock yourself out, nerd.” Sam gave him an unimpressed look before heading toward the library.

Which left just you and Dean. Alone. In the suddenly too-quiet War Room.

Dean shifted, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Well. That leaves us with not a damn thing to do.”

You hesitated before asking, “What do you normally do?” Dean raised a brow. “What, when Sam’s off burying himself in books?”

You nodded.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair again. “TV. Beer. Occasional existential crisis.”

You frowned. “TV?” Dean blinked at you. “Oh, you’re serious.” You just stared back, waiting.

Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Right. You don’t know what TV is.” He pushed himself up, stretching. “Okay, well, buckle up, because this is important.”

You followed as he led the way out of the War Room and into the Bunker’s main living area. He grabbed the remote and turned on the massive TV, flipping through channels like it was second nature.

“So, here’s the deal,” he said, eyes still on the screen. “TV is basically human culture 101. If you wanna blend in, you gotta know the classics.”

You settled onto the couch next to him, watching the screen flicker. “What are the classics?”

Dean smirked, then selected something from the menu.

An episode of some old show flickered onto the screen.

He pointed at it. “This? This is Star Wars. Mandatory viewing. Pay attention.”

You did. You sat perfectly still, hands in your lap, studying the screen with an intensity Dean found slightly unnerving.

He wasn’t sure why, but it was kind of… funny?

“You, uh… you don’t have to watch it like it’s some ancient prophecy,” he muttered, grabbing a beer from the side table.

You glanced at him, confused. “I thought you said it was important.” Dean paused, then snorted. “Okay, yeah, but not that important. You’re allowed to relax.”

You frowned. Relaxing. Another thing you weren’t sure how to do.

Dean sighed and took a swig of his beer. “Alright, look. Let’s try this.” He reached over and grabbed the remote, flipping through more channels. “Instead of making you memorize pop culture like a test, let’s just—”

He stopped on a random movie. It looked… strange. The people on the screen were moving quickly, their voices louder, exaggerated.

“What’s this?” you asked. Dean glanced at the title. “Tommy Boy. Classic. It’s stupid, but in a good way.” You tilted your head. “Stupid in a good way?”

Dean grinned. “Yeah. Trust me.” So, you watched.

At first, you were still too tense, like you were waiting for something important to happen. But then the man on screen tripped over himself, knocking over an entire display of auto parts, sending everything crashing to the floor.

And Dean laughed. A real, genuine, easy laugh.

You glanced at him, startled. It was the most uncomplicated sound you’d heard since waking up in this body.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, you turned back to the screen. The man did something else—bumped his head, yelled dramatically. Dean laughed again.

And something strange happened. Your lips twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, not yet, but it was something.

Dean caught it. He didn’t say anything—he just smirked a little and took another sip of his beer.

Yeah. Maybe this wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening.

꩜

Sam frowned at the book in front of him, flipping through the pages. His eyes skimmed over every mention of Grace, vessels, celestial energy—anything that could explain what V was.

So far? Nothing.

With a sigh, he pushed back from the table, rubbing his temples. Then, faintly, from the living room—Laughter.

Sam frowned. He stood, making his way toward the noise. Peering into the living room, he stopped in his tracks.

Dean was slouched on the couch, looking completely at ease. Beer in hand, legs stretched out, smirking at the TV.

And next to him, curled up in an oversized hoodie, eyes locked on the screen—V.

Sam blinked. They weren’t talking. They weren’t doing anything important. Just watching a dumb movie together.

And V—who had spent not even the last 24 hours looking completely lost—actually looked… comfortable.

Dean must’ve caught Sam staring, because he turned, raising a brow. “What?”

Sam just shook his head, huffing out a small breath. “Nothing.”

He turned and went back to the library. He still had no idea what V was. But whatever it was? At least she wasn’t alone.

Note : and V has her nickname !! (Obviously Dean gave it to her because duh) I think it’s super cute hopefully you guys do too!! You can also send in any headcanons and whatnot you have for her if you’d like :)) I literally can’t stop writing for her I have so much cute things lined up like clothes shopping that may or may not include Charlie (not spn timeline accurate idrc) ANYWAYS I’m rambling so let me know what you think of her so far !!!

Tags : @daylighted , @wchswift , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @couturewinx

To be tagged in any future works you can check out here !!

[rositaslabyrinth]

NSFW headcanons - Ruby

Ruby x female!reader 18+

Content warnings : teasing, kissing, begging, talking you through it

Very self explanatory loll, pretty much smut just in headcanon form

Word count ; 891

Minors PLEASE do not interact !!

── .✦ She Takes Her Time Wrecking You

⟢ Ruby’s not just about rough, fast, desperate—she likes to take her time, dragging things out until you’re trembling under her touch. She’ll pin you down, straddle your hips, and smirk as she traces slow, deliberate circles over your skin.

⟢ Every touch is measured, every move designed to make you squirm. She wants to see how much you need her, how worked up she can get you before she finally gives in and gives you what you want. And even then, it’s only when she’s satisfied with how ruined you already look for her.

── .✦ She’s Wickedly Good With Her Hands

⟢ Ruby’s fingers are her favorite weapon. The way they tease, the way they press into your skin, the way she hooks them just right to make you gasp.

⟢ She loves pinning your wrists above your head with just one hand while the other slowly trails down your body, barely touching, making you shiver in anticipation. Her voice is smooth, teasing as she murmurs, “I could keep this up all night, sweetheart. You think you can handle that?”

── .✦ She Talks You Through It, and It’s Filthy

⟢ Ruby has a way with words, and she knows it. She’ll murmur in your ear while she’s working you over, voice low and sultry: “That’s it, baby—just like that. Let me hear you.”

⟢ She lives for your reactions, for the way your breathing changes, for the way you shudder under her. And if you ever try to hold back a moan? Oh, she notices. And she doesn’t like it. She’ll stop whatever she’s doing, grip your chin, and smirk: “What’s the matter, angel? You getting shy on me? That’s cute. But I want to hear you.”

── .✦ She’s Possessive in the Most Sinful Ways

⟢ Ruby doesn’t just want you—she owns you in the most intoxicating way. She needs to see the evidence of what she’s done to you the next day. She loves the marks she leaves—bites, bruises, scratches running down your back. And she definitely loves tracing them with her fingers afterward, grinning to herself.

⟢ If someone even looks at you the wrong way after a night with her, she just leans in close, lips brushing your ear as she murmurs, “They don’t even know who you belong to, do they?”

── .✦ She’ll Make You Beg Just Because She Can

⟢ Ruby relishes in power, and that includes having you completely at her mercy. She likes seeing you desperate, writhing under her, pleading for more. And she makes you work for it.

⟢ She’ll ghost her lips over your skin, barely applying pressure, teasing you with slow, fleeting touches until you’re breathless, frustrated, and maybe even a little teary-eyed from how badly you need her. And that’s when she smirks, tilting your chin up with two fingers and whispering, “You’re so pretty when you beg. Say it again for me.”

── .✦ She Loves Eye Contact, and She Won’t Break It

⟢ There’s something about the way Ruby watches you—like she’s drinking in every little reaction. Whether she’s got you pinned beneath her or she’s taking her time going down on you, she holds your gaze. It’s deliberate, intense, almost intimidating.

⟢ If you try to look away? She’ll grab your chin, tilt your face back toward hers, and smirk: “Uh-uh, baby. I want you to look at me when I make you fall apart.”

── .✦ She’s Almost Too Good With Her Mouth

⟢ Ruby loves using her mouth on you, and it shows. She’s slow, deliberate, teasing you with soft kisses before diving in like she needs to taste you. She takes her time, hums against your skin just to drive you crazy, grips your thighs like she never wants to let go. And when you get close? She knows.

⟢ She’ll slow down just to tease you, chuckling as you whimper, before finally picking up the pace again, determined to pull you over the edge in the most earth-shattering way possible.

── .✦ She Gets Off on How Much You Trust Her

⟢ Beneath all the teasing, the control, the smug little smirks, there’s something deeper in the way Ruby touches you. She’s a demon—she knows she’s dangerous—but the fact that you trust her, that you let her do this to you, that you want her like this? It drives her wild.

⟢ There’s something almost reverent in the way she touches you sometimes, in the way she murmurs your name against your skin, in the way her hands shake just a little when she pulls you close after.

⟢ She won’t say it out loud, but she loves you in a way that’s all-consuming, and this is how she shows it.

── .✦ Her Aftercare Is Rough Around the Edges, but It’s There

⟢ Ruby’s not soft, not exactly. She’s not the type to whisper sweet nothings or cuddle up like a lovesick fool. But after? When she’s completely wrecked you? She’s there. She’ll tuck you against her, run her fingers through your hair, maybe press a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

⟢ She won’t say much, but she does murmur little things under her breath—“You good, sweetheart?” or “Damn, look at you. You okay?” She’ll smirk, tease you a little “Didn’t think you’d last that long, but you proved me wrong” —but if you’re too tired to move, she’ll get up, bring you water, and crawl right back into bed beside you like she never left.

Liz talks : this has been in my drafts foreveerrrr lmaoo but I wanted to get something out tn and I lowkey haven’t felt like writing anything so here’s this!!

Tags : @saltcxrcle , @vmiina , @nymphet-quenn , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah

If you want to be tagged in any future works of mine please check out this post!!

[rositaslabyrinth]

The thread that pulled me - lacy!reader

First encounters ⭑.ᐟ

Sam Winchester isn’t the type to dwell on strangers, but when he locks eyes with a woman in a dimly lit bar, he can’t seem to shake the feeling that she’s more than she seems.

Content warnings ; none!! Enjoy 🌚🌚 Word count ; 2,375

The bar was the kind of place that barely existed outside of towns like this—dimly lit, half-empty, with a jukebox in the corner that hadn’t been touched in years. It smelled like spilled whiskey and cigarettes, the kind of scent that stuck to your clothes long after you left.

Sam sat across from Dean in a worn-out booth, a half-finished beer in front of him, but he wasn’t paying much attention to it. The case had his focus.

“So,” Dean started, leaning back against the booth, tapping his fingers against his glass. “Three bodies drained dry, no signs of forced entry, and all of them missing from locked rooms. Tell me that doesn’t sound like vamps.”

Sam nodded, flipping through the newspaper articles they’d gathered. “Yeah, but something’s weird. No signs of a struggle, no reports of bite marks before the victims disappeared. It’s like they’re being lured out instead of taken.”

Dean scoffed, taking another sip of his beer. “Right, because vamps don’t know how to play smart. Look, we check out the bodies in the morning, see if anything lines up, and after that, we track the nest. Easy.”

Sam hummed in response, but his mind was already drifting. He wasn’t sure what it was—maybe the low buzz of conversation around them, maybe the feeling that something about this town wasn’t quite right—but something in the air felt charged. Off.

Then, as if pulled by some unseen force, his gaze shifted toward the bar.

And that’s when he saw you.

You were sitting alone, your posture relaxed, fingers loosely wrapped around a glass. The dim lights of the bar cast soft shadows over you, highlighting the deep purple of your coat, the subtle lace peeking from your sleeves. You weren’t watching anyone, you weren’t trying to be noticed. But somehow, Sam couldn’t look away.

There was something about you.

You seemed unbothered, completely detached from the rest of the world. Yet, there was a stillness to you that didn’t feel accidental—like you were choosing to exist just on the edge of everything, watching without being watched.

Except, you were being watched.

By him.

Sam swallowed, his fingers tightening around his glass. He should look away, should go back to the conversation with Dean, but for some reason, he couldn’t.

And then—

You turned.

It was slow, almost deliberate, like you had felt his stare before you ever saw him. Your eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, Sam forgot how to move.

The air between them shifted, stretched.

You didn’t look surprised. Didn’t look away.

Neither did he.

Dean was still talking, but Sam wasn’t hearing a word. His pulse drummed in his ears, not because of anything obvious—nothing about her screamed danger, nothing about you said threat.

And yet.

There was something there.

Something he didn’t understand.

And Sam Winchester wasn’t the kind of guy who liked not understanding things.

You held his gaze for a second longer—just long enough for it to mean something—before turning back to your drink, as if nothing had happened at all.

As if you hadn’t just set his mind spinning.

As if you hadn’t felt it too.

Sam exhaled, blinking himself back into reality.

“…Dude?”

Dean’s voice pulled him back, and Sam turned his head, finding his brother watching him with a raised brow. “You still with me?”

“Yeah,” Sam said quickly, though his eyes flickered toward the bar once more—toward you—before he forced himself to focus. “I’m here.”

Dean narrowed his eyes slightly, but thankfully, he didn’t push it. “Good. ‘Cause we’ve got work to do.”

Sam nodded, but even as Dean started talking again, laying out the next steps, his mind was elsewhere.

That feeling, that something lingering in the air—

It hadn’t gone away.

And somehow, Sam knew this wouldn’t be the last time he saw you.

The county morgue was as cold and sterile as every other one Sam and Dean had walked into over the years. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting a pale glow over the metal exam tables. The whole place smelled like disinfectant and something faintly metallic—blood that had been scrubbed away but still lingered beneath the surface.

Sam adjusted his suit jacket as they stepped inside, flashing his badge at the woman waiting for them at the front desk. She was in her late thirties, dark hair pulled into a tight bun, eyes sharp but tired. Her nametag read Dr. Claire Holloway.

“Agents Tyler and Perry,” Dean said smoothly, tucking his fake FBI badge back into his pocket. “We’re here about the bodies from the recent disappearances.”

Dr. Holloway let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Right. You feds sure are interested in this case.”

Sam frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

She gestured for them to follow, leading them down a narrow hallway toward the exam room. “I mean I already went through this whole thing yesterday with another agent.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.

Dean cleared his throat. “Another agent?”

Dr. Holloway nodded as she pushed open the doors to the morgue. “Yeah. Woman, mid-to-late twenties, dark coat. Didn’t say much, just asked a lot of questions.”

Sam’s stomach flipped.

Dean beat him to the punch. “And you’re sure she was FBI?”

Dr. Holloway shot him a look as she pulled on a pair of gloves. “She flashed a badge, asked all the right questions. Seemed legit to me.”

Sam tried to keep his expression neutral, but his mind was already racing. A woman, dark coat, asking questions about the case. It could’ve been anyone. It should’ve been anyone.

But something told him it wasn’t just anyone.

Dr. Holloway pulled open one of the metal drawers and slid out the first body, pulling back the sheet to reveal a pale man in his mid-thirties, his expression frozen in something between fear and shock. Two thin puncture wounds marked his neck.

“Cause of death is exsanguination,” she said, slipping into professional mode. “No defensive wounds, no sign of struggle. Like the others, he left work and was reported missing that same night. Turned up two days later completely drained.”

Sam forced himself to focus, pushing aside the nagging thought creeping in the back of his mind. He studied the marks on the victim’s neck—too clean, too precise. Definitely a vampire’s work.

Dean exhaled, shaking his head. “And you’re sure there was nothing weird about how they were taken? No signs of being drugged first, no reports of strange behavior before they vanished?”

Dr. Holloway pulled off her gloves. “Nothing. It’s like they just walked out of their lives and never came back.”

Dean muttered something under his breath before turning back to Sam. “Well, that settles it. Classic vamp play—lure ‘em in, drain ‘em dry, dump the body. We just need to track the nest.”

Sam nodded, but his mind wasn’t entirely on the case anymore.

You had been here. The woman from the bar.

And now he needed to know why.

The cool night air hit them as they stepped out of the morgue, the heavy metal doors swinging shut behind them. The street was mostly empty, the dull hum of a streetlamp overhead flickering against the Impala’s sleek black surface.

Dean let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Well, that was weird.”

Sam, still lost in thought, glanced at him. “What part?”

Dean shot him a look. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the part where some random FBI agent already swooped in before us? Because last I checked, we were the only ones working this case.”

Sam nodded, but his mind was somewhere else. He was thinking about the bar. About her.

Dean noticed the way Sam was distracted, the way his expression had shifted. He narrowed his eyes. “Alright, what’s up with you?”

Sam hesitated, then shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “It’s probably nothing, but… did you notice the woman at the bar last night?”

Dean blinked. “The one in purple? Yeah, I noticed her. You noticed her, apparently.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “What, she get stuck in your head, Sammy?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, I’m serious. She was just… different.”

Dean scoffed, unlocking the car. “Yeah, well, maybe she was passing through, like us. Or maybe she’s into sad-eyed hunters who overthink things.”

Sam ignored that. “She wasn’t just there, Dean. She looked at me.”

Dean gave him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, that’s usually how eyesight works, Sam.”

Sam exhaled sharply, frustrated. “No, I mean—she looked at me. Like she knew something. Like she was expecting us.”

Dean’s amusement faded slightly, his brow furrowing. “And you think she’s our mystery FBI agent?”

“I don’t know.” Sam glanced down the street, like she might suddenly appear out of the darkness. Sam leaned against the car, thoughtful. “You think she’s another hunter?”

Dean shrugged. “Could be. Or she could be something else. Either way, we’re not the only ones poking around in this case.” He opened the driver’s side door and nodded toward Sam. “Come on. Let’s regroup at the motel. Figure out what’s next.”

Sam nodded, but as he slid into the passenger seat, one thought stuck with him.

If she really was the same woman from the bar, then she had gone out of her way not to interact with them. Not to acknowledge them.

And that meant she had something to hide.

The motel room was dimly lit, the only real glow coming from the laptop screen in front of Sam. He had maps spread out across the table, along with printouts of missing persons reports and case notes. He was trying to piece it together—how the vampires were moving, what their pattern was, why they were hunting so carefully.

But his mind wasn’t fully on the case.

It kept drifting. Back to the morgue. Back to the bar. Back to you.

Sam rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling. He wasn’t even sure why you were still bothering him. He’d seen plenty of strangers in his life—plenty of people who didn’t fit neatly into their world. But there was something different about you. The way you carried herself, the way you’d met his stare without a flicker of hesitation.

He shook his head and refocused on the screen in front of him.

Dean had gone out to grab food, which meant he had at least twenty minutes to try and make some progress. The quiet was almost nice—just the sound of the motel’s buzzing neon sign outside and the occasional car passing on the highway.

Then—

A knock at the door.

Sam tensed immediately.

It was too soon for Dean to be back. And no one else should’ve known they were here.

Slowly, he closed his laptop and stood, reaching for the gun tucked near the edge of the table. He moved carefully, his footsteps silent against the old motel carpet.

Another knock. Lighter this time. Steady.

Sam exhaled and unlocked the door, keeping his grip firm on the handle as he pulled it open just a fraction—

And there you were.

Standing there like you belonged, dark purple coat draped over her shoulders, eyes calm but sharp.

The woman from the bar.

The agent from the morgue.

Sam’s fingers tightened slightly on the doorframe, but his face remained neutral. “…Can I help you?”

You tilted her head just slightly, your lips curling into something almost like amusement. “You and your brother aren’t as subtle as you think.”

Sam didn’t react right away. He took a slow breath, then opened the door a little wider. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing to you.”

Something flickered in your gaze—not quite surprise, but a quiet acknowledgment. Like you’d been expecting him to put it together.

He stepped back, gesturing inside. “You might as well come in.”

You studied him for a moment, then walked past him into the room, moving like you had all the time in the world. Sam shut the door behind you, watching as you took in her surroundings.

“Not exactly homey,” you commented, glancing at the cluttered table full of research.

Sam crossed his arms. “Motel rooms usually aren’t.”

You gave a small, knowing hum, then turned back to face him. “You’ve been looking into the case longer than I thought.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “And you’ve been looking into it longer than we knew.”

Your expression didn’t change. “You caught on eventually.”

Sam exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Alright, I’ll bite—who are you?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you took a step closer, just enough for him to catch the subtle scent of something dark and warm—maybe leather, maybe faintly like smoke.

“I think,” you say smoothly, “that’s a question better left for later.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, watching you carefully. “That’s not an answer.”

You smirked slightly. “No, it’s not.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The air in the room felt heavier, charged. Sam wasn’t sure what it was about her—why you didn’t set off his usual alarms.

Why he didn’t want you to leave just yet.

Finally, he sighed. “Fine. Then at least tell me this—why are you looking into this case?”

Your expression shifted slightly—less amused now, more calculating. You glance at the files spread across the table, then met his gaze again.

“Because,” you say simply, “you’re not the only ones hunting them.”

Sam’s stomach tightened at the implication.

Before he could respond, the sound of a car pulling into the lot made them both glance toward the window.

Dean.

You step back toward the door, your movements just as smooth as before. “Looks like that’s my cue.”

Sam moved forward instinctively. “Wait—”

But you were already pulling open the door. You hesitated just briefly, glancing back at him, something unreadable in your eyes.

“I’ll see you around, Winchester.”

And then you were gone, vanishing into the night like you’d never been there at all.

Dean walked in a second later, carrying a bag of takeout. He froze mid-step, glancing at Sam’s face. “Uh… what the hell did I just miss?”

Sam exhaled, still staring at the door.

“…I have no idea.” But he was damn sure going to find out.

Liz talks : OMG OMG FIRST PART!!!! Guys I love her. I’m obsessed with her. I wrote this like all night last night + lowkey wrote some of it on my break at work LMAOO so I hope it’s good because I’m running in not much sleep :)) also longest thing I’ve ever written so lowk scared lollll

Tags : 🌈 @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @deanswidow , @nymphet-quenn , @multiversefanfics , @star-maker-rain-dancer , @samsblades , @saltcxrcle , @ohsc , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie

If you want to be tagged in this or any future works of mine please check this post !!

[rositaslabyrinth]

Burning between us - Jo Harvelle + Ruby

Ruby x female!reader x Jo

A night of tension, desire, and control unfolds as Ruby and Jo take turns with you.

Content warnings ; smut, little bit of boob play, threesome, fingering, grinding, masturbation, finger sucking, dom!ruby, multiple orgasms

Word count ; 2,467

Minors PLEASE do not interact !!!

The motel room is dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation. The only sound is the quiet hum of the AC and the occasional soft breath between the three of you. Ruby’s gaze never leaves yours, her body just inches away as she stands above you. She’s teasing, waiting for the perfect moment, knowing exactly how to make you ache with need.

“You’ve been so good tonight,” Ruby whispers, her voice low and full of command. Her fingers trace the curve of your arm, down to your side, testing the waters. “But I think you want more, don’t you?”

You nod, breath shallow, already feeling the heat build inside you. Every inch of her touch is electric, and you can’t help but want more.

Ruby’s lips curl into a slow, wicked smile. “Good girl,” she purrs. She doesn’t wait for you to respond, instead capturing your lips in a deep kiss, her tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you slowly, teasingly. Her hands are on you almost immediately, gripping you in ways that make your pulse race.

But before you can lose yourself in her, you feel the presence of someone else in the room. You turn your head slightly to see Jo standing in the doorway, watching. Her eyes are dark, hungry, taking in every detail as Ruby continues to kiss you, her hands moving lower. Jo doesn’t say a word; she doesn’t have to. You can feel the intensity of her gaze, the way she’s absorbing every moment.

Ruby pulls back slightly, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she notices Jo’s presence. “She’s mine right now, Jo,” Ruby murmurs, her voice dripping with mischief. “You can have your turn soon.”

Jo steps forward, her movements slow and deliberate. Her body is all strength, power, and control. As she nears, she doesn’t look at you—her gaze is fixed on Ruby, silently acknowledging the shift in power.

Jo’s lips curl into a smirk. “I’m not waiting,” she growls, her voice rough, thick with desire.

Ruby chuckles softly, her hands still teasing your skin. “Take your time, Jo. We’ve got all night.”

But Jo’s patience is thin. Without a word, she’s on the bed beside you, her hands moving to your clothes, tugging them off with urgency, her fingers leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

As Ruby watches, Jo’s lips descend to your neck, leaving soft, possessive kisses. You can feel her breath on your skin, the heat of her body against yours as she presses into you, her hands roaming with confidence.

“Tell us you want this,” Jo whispers, her voice hushed but demanding. “Tell us you want us.”

You gasp at her words, your breath quickening. “I want you both,” you breathe, your voice trembling. “Please.”

Ruby smirks, satisfied, and slides down your body slowly, her hands never leaving your skin. As she moves lower, Jo’s lips find yours, kissing you hard, her hands pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until your entire body responds.

Ruby’s hands find their way between your legs, and you can’t help but gasp as her fingers slip into you, teasing you with a soft touch. “You’re so fucking perfect, so wet,” Ruby whispers, her breath warm against your skin as she strokes you with careful precision.

Jo watches from above, her eyes dark, her body tense with need. She’s enjoying this—watching you unravel beneath Ruby’s touch, and the sight of it only stokes her own hunger.

Ruby glances at Jo, a wicked grin on her lips. “She’s almost there,” Ruby purrs. “You ready, Jo?”

Jo nods, moving with purpose, her hands slipping under your body, lifting you slightly as she positions herself, her lips descending to your ear. “We’re not done with you yet, sweetheart,” Jo murmurs. “Not by a long shot.”

Ruby’s fingers move faster, her movements becoming more urgent, but still calculated—she’s not letting you finish yet. Jo’s hands come down onto your chest, pinning you in place as she watches Ruby’s every move, kneading at your perky tits.

The pressure builds, and you can’t hold back anymore. You’re trembling under them, your body aching for release, but Ruby pulls away, leaving you gasping, needy.

“You’ve got to wait,” Ruby says softly, her voice commanding but almost sweet in its wickedness. “Patience, sweetheart.”

Jo’s hands slide lower, finding your waist, and she pulls you into her, her body hovering above you as she positions herself just where you need her. You gasp, the anticipation almost unbearable.

“You’re going to feel both of us don’t you worry,” Jo whispers, her voice dripping with authority as she moves against you, grinding slowly, deliberately. Your body arches toward her, desperate for the release Ruby is so cruelly denying you.

The room is thick with heat and tension as Jo continues to move against you, her rhythm slow at first, but she doesn’t hold back for long. Her hands grip your body, pulling you closer, her kisses becoming fiercer as she dominates the moment.

Ruby leans back, watching with hungry eyes, her fingers still trailing along her own body, waiting for her turn. The heat between the three of you is intoxicating, and as Jo’s rhythm intensifies, you feel yourself unraveling, your body betraying you with each movement.

Ruby slips her fingers into her own heat, wet from watching the both of you, from hearing the way both you and Jo’s skin sounded against each other as Jo grinned her clit down to yours. She leans down to kiss you, her tongue moving all throughout your mouth, moaning into it while she pushed her fingers into her at the same time as Jo was grinding down into you.

“She wants it,” Ruby murmurs pulling away from your mouth, her voice dark, thick with desire. “She’s going to come for us.”

And you do—your body shuddering beneath Jo’s, every inch of you trembling as the pressure finally breaks, and you give in to the release you’ve been aching for.

Jo’s lips are on yours again, claiming you with the force of her kiss as Ruby watches,her fingers still in her, but her gaze never leaving you as she comes as well.

And as you lie there, spent and breathless, Ruby leans over, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, sticking her fingers into your mouth to lick up all of the the sticky liquid that coated them. She tasted so good, sweet, which was ironic considering her personality but you didn’t care, you sucked it off all of of them.

“Not done yet, sweetheart,” Ruby growls, her voice low and commanding. She’s moving toward you with purpose, her fingers leaving your mouth and trailing lightly over your skin as she positions herself above you.

You’re still riding the aftershocks, your body still sensitive from Jo’s touch, but Ruby doesn’t give you time to rest. Her hands grip your sides, holding you in place as she lowers herself onto you. Her lips are on yours in an instant, a fierce kiss that makes you melt into her, her tongue claiming you as she deepens the kiss.

“You’re going to feel me now,” Ruby whispers between kisses, her words a command more than a suggestion.

You can barely catch your breath as Ruby moves her hands down your body, urging you to meet her every shift and grind. She’s in full control, her pace fast and unrelenting as she makes sure you’re reacting to every inch of her.

The tension between the three of you is never truly gone—it’s just waiting, simmering under the surface, ready to build again. Ruby watches you with dark eyes, savoring every second, every gasp that escapes your lips.

“Tell me you want it,” Ruby murmurs, her lips brushing your ear, her voice thick with desire. “Tell me you need me like this.”

You shudder, every inch of your body aching for her. Your head is spinning, and you’re losing yourself to her, to the way she makes you feel. “I want it,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. “I need you, Ruby.”

A dark smile curls at the corners of Ruby’s lips as she hears your words. She’s pushing you toward the edge, but not quite letting you fall yet. She wants to feel you squirm under her control.

“You’re mine,” Ruby says, her voice rough and filled with authority. Her fingers dig into your skin, holding you in place as she moves faster, deeper. The pressure is building, and you can barely focus on anything but her touch, her presence overwhelming you.

Jo sits off to the side of the bed, her hands resting in her lap as she watches Ruby take control. Her eyes are dark with desire, but she doesn’t rush in. She enjoys seeing the way Ruby makes you ache, how she forces you to feel every bit of her dominance. The atmosphere in the room is thick, electric, and Jo can’t help but admire the way Ruby owns the moment.

Ruby’s breath comes faster now as she drives into you with even more urgency. She’s relentless, pulling you into every moment, making sure you feel every second of her. Your body moves against her, desperate to find some release, but she doesn’t allow it. She’s in control, and you’ll get what she gives you—nothing more, nothing less.

“You’re doing so well,” Ruby whispers, her hands never leaving you, her body shifting in rhythm with yours. “You’re going to break for me, aren’t you?”

The tension is unbearable, and your body is on the verge of collapsing under the pressure. Ruby is so close, her grip firm as she positions you just right. And then, with a sharp thrust, the pressure snaps, and you come undone, your body trembling as the release floods through you.

But Ruby doesn’t stop. She keeps moving, pushing you past your limits, making sure you feel every inch of her as your breath comes in shallow gasps.

As you lie there, breathless and spent, Ruby leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re perfect,” she whispers, her voice a soft growl, before she pulls back slightly, her eyes locked on you. “But I’m not done yet. Not by a long shot.”

The room feels like it’s closing in, and every breath you take is thick with anticipation. Your body is still trembling from Ruby’s last movements, your mind hazy from the overwhelming pleasure she’s brought you. But she’s not finished yet. Her gaze never leaves yours, her eyes dark with hunger, full of that same possessive fire.

Ruby shifts down your body, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she moves. You can’t help but gasp, your body already reacting to her as she positions herself just where you need her. Her fingers trace the lines of your skin as she leans down, her breath hot against your body. You feel her movements before you even see her—slow, deliberate, but full of that same intensity.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Ruby murmurs, her voice low, almost rough with desire. She moves between your legs, her hands spreading you open as she hovers above you. Her eyes flick up to yours, dark and full of command. “Don’t hold back this time. I want to hear you.”

You nod, your breath shallow as you feel the weight of her presence, her dominance overwhelming every inch of you. Ruby’s fingers trace the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before she moves in, her lips barely brushing against your most sensitive spot, teasing and slow. Your body responds instantly, every nerve alive, and you can’t hold back the soft moan that escapes your lips.

Ruby’s grin widens, pleased with your reaction. She continues, her movements sure and controlled, taking her time to make you feel every inch of her touch. You’re so close to breaking, but she doesn’t rush it.

From beside you, Jo watches with dark eyes, her breath heavy as she steps forward, her own desire evident in the way she moves. She doesn’t interrupt, though. She watches Ruby work, the tension building with each movement. Jo’s gaze flicks from Ruby to you, hungry and possessive.

Ruby’s hands grip your thighs as she moves with purpose, her lips now pressing harder against you. You can’t think, can’t focus on anything but the waves of pleasure building inside you. Ruby’s pace is deliberate, driving you closer to the edge, but she’s still holding back just enough to make you ache.

Jo moves closer now, her fingers tracing over your body, exploring, teasing. Her hands move up to your chest, finding your breasts, and she caresses gently, adding a new layer to the sensations. Your body is overloaded with the touch of both of them, and the combination of Ruby’s expert control and Jo’s teasing is driving you to the brink of madness.

Ruby pulls back for just a moment, her lips curling into a teasing smile as she watches you, your body trembling beneath her. “Look at you,” she says, her voice thick with desire. “So fucking desperate. You want to come for us, don’t you?”

You nod, your voice barely a whisper as you answer, “Please, Ruby… I need you.”

Ruby doesn’t wait for a second longer. She moves back in, her tongue finding you again, deeper this time, her movements faster, more urgent. And just when you think you can’t handle it, Jo’s fingers slip between your legs, teasing just where Ruby’s mouth isn’t, adding to the tension, making sure you can’t escape the heat that’s building.

The pressure is unbearable. You’re on the edge, trembling, your body bucking against them as both Ruby and Jo take their turns, their touch relentless, synchronized in a way that makes you feel owned, claimed, and wanted. You can’t think—there’s nothing left but the way they make you feel, the fire they’ve sparked inside of you.

Finally, Ruby pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes filled with satisfaction. “Go ahead,” she whispers, her voice a growl. “Come for us. Let go.”

And with that, you break, your body shaking as you give in to the overwhelming sensation, the release tearing through you as both Ruby and Jo keep you held in place, making sure you feel every second.

As the room settles, your body still trembling, Ruby leans over you, her lips brushing against your ear. “You’re perfect,” she murmurs, her voice full of satisfaction. Jo leans down as well, pressing a kiss to your temple, and you feel the warmth of their presence surround you, holding you close in the aftermath.

Jo pulls you into her arms after, her body warm against yours, as Ruby settles beside you, both of them basking in the aftermath of the fire they’ve ignited within you.

Liz talks : this was definitely new for me to write LMFAO also it’s mostly Ruby MY APOLOGIES I also have no clue how accurate this stuff is so if anyone of this is wrong I didn’t see it. Also trust I’m gonna start writing solo stuff for Jo soon so this won’t be last of her🙏 I hope yall liked this and any kind of feedback is appreciated!!!

Tag list : @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel , @saltcxrcle , @vmiina , @nymphet-quenn , @samsblades , @multiversefanfics , @jesstherebel , @g0away-tate , @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth

To be added to my taglist to stay updated on any future posts of mine please check out this post !!

[rositaslabyrinth]

He’s your boyfriend headcanons - Sam W

Sam Winchester x gn!reader

No content warnings <3

All headcanons and scenarios based on Dam Winchester being you boyfriend !!

Word count ; 655

── .✦ Affection & Love Language

⟢ Sam is an incredibly affectionate boyfriend, but in an understated, intimate way. He’s not the type for grand public displays of affection, but in private? He’s all about the soft touches, forehead kisses, and lingering eye contact that says more than words ever could.

⟢ His primary love language is acts of service. He’s always looking for little ways to take care of you, whether it’s making sure you eat, bringing you coffee exactly how you like it, or wrapping you in his flannel when you’re cold.

⟢ That being said, physical touch is also big for him, though he doesn’t always realize it. When you’re near, he’s always grazing his fingers against yours, resting his hand on your lower back, or pulling you into his side when you’re sitting together.

── .✦ Protectiveness & Support

⟢ Sam is protective in a way that is more about empowering you rather than coddling. He’ll teach you how to defend yourself, give you the knowledge to stay safe, and always remind you that you’re strong enough to handle yourself.

⟢ But if something threatens you? That’s when his ruthless side comes out. Sam may be the more logical and level-headed brother, but when it comes to you, there is no hesitation—he will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

⟢ Emotionally, Sam is the most supportive partner you could ask for. He listens to you with his whole heart, offering advice when you need it and just holding you when you don’t. He remembers the little things you say, even if it’s just in passing, and brings them up later in ways that remind you how deeply he cares.

── .✦ Quality Time & Everyday Moments

⟢ Despite the chaos of hunting, Sam cherishes the quiet moments with you. Reading together in bed, taking early morning walks before the world wakes up, slow-dancing in the dim light of the bunker’s library—it’s the simple things that mean the most to him.

⟢ He loves sharing his interests with you, whether it’s recommending books he thinks you’ll like or teaching you new research skills. If you show interest in lore or history, he’ll light up, eager to have deep conversations with you about it.

⟢ On road trips, Sam will drive while you sleep, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. If you’re awake, he loves those long, late-night talks where the world outside the Impala feels distant and it’s just the two of you.

── .✦ Arguments & Making Up

⟢ Sam isn’t someone who fights just to fight. If you two argue, it’s because something genuinely bothers him, and he’ll always try to communicate calmly.

⟢ He values honesty and hates feeling like there’s tension between you, so he’ll be the one to initiate a serious talk if something feels off.

⟢ When making up, he’s incredibly gentle and sincere—he’ll apologize when he needs to, always making sure you feel heard and understood.

⟢ Expect soft, lingering kisses, whispered apologies, and him holding you a little tighter than usual afterward.

── .✦ Little Things That Show He Loves You

⟢ He’ll pull you into his lap when you’re reading, even if he has his own book, just because he likes being close.

⟢ Wakes up earlier than he has to just to spend a few quiet moments watching you sleep before kissing your temple and starting the day.

⟢ Always places himself between you and danger—whether it’s during a hunt or just walking down a sketchy street.

⟢ Writes little notes in the margins of books he lends you, just to see if you’ll notice.

⟢ Calls you by your full first name when he’s being extra affectionate or teasing

⟢ Holds onto every little thing you give him, from a random receipt with your doodles to a book you said reminded you of him.

This is so much shorter than the dean and ruby one I apologize!! I have more nsfw ones that I’m working on as well for everyone so hopefully that same headcanon post will be longer LMFAO. Anyone’s this is for all my sam lovers I hope yall like it <33

(Tagging people from my taglist and this who I think would appreciate it!! If you don’t want to be tagged please let me know and also if you haven’t already please check my tag list at this post!)

@daylighted @sunsettsam @s4wdvator @morganwrites12672 @bluemerakis @velvetdandeli0n @sunsbaby @deanspookiebear @aambearr @starzify @samsblades , @mxltifxnd0m , @ohsc

[rositaslabyrinth]

Oblivious - Ruby

Ruby x female!reader

Ruby’s patience is running thin. She’s been dropping hints, slipping in innuendos, and even lingering her touch longer than necessary—but you? You just smile, nod, and carry on like she didn’t just whisper filth into your ear. It would be frustrating if you weren’t so damn cute.

Content warnings ; smut, making out, fingering, eating out, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, pet names (baby, sweetheart etc) innocent!reader, somewhat soft!ruby

Word count ; 2,310

Minors PLEASE do not interact and please check my note at the bottom of this post, thank you !!

Ruby was used to playing the long game. She had spent years perfecting the art of manipulation, of planting seeds and letting them bloom exactly when she wanted. But this? This was something else.

You were something else.

Sitting across from her in the dimly lit motel room, your legs were tucked beneath you, a book in your hands as you absentmindedly nibbled on your bottom lip. It was adorable. And distracting. And if you had any idea what you were doing to her, she might have thought you were teasing her on purpose.

But you weren’t. That was the problem.

Ruby stretched out on the bed beside you, propping herself up on her elbow, watching you with a smirk. She reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, letting her fingers graze your skin just a little too long.

You looked up, blinking at her. “Thanks, Rubes.”

Oh, for hell’s sake.

Ruby exhaled through her nose, biting back her amusement. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She shifted closer, voice dipping lower. “You know, I could help you relax. If you wanted.”

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head in confusion. “Relax? I mean… I’m not really tense or anything.”

She bit her tongue. This was too easy. “Mmm, not yet.”

You blinked again, eyes wide and clueless, before nodding. “Okay! Thanks, Ruby.”

Ruby swore she could hear the universe laughing at her.

She tried again the next night. This time, she let her hand settle on your thigh, fingers tracing absentminded circles over your jeans. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t supposed to be.

But all you did was smile at her, completely unaware of the fire she was trying to start beneath your skin.

She tried dirty jokes—thinly veiled comments that should have had you blushing, shifting in your seat.

But no.

“That’s funny, Ruby!” you’d laugh, shaking your head, completely missing the point.

And yet, despite your innocence, your body was still reacting.

Ruby noticed the way your breath hitched when she touched you, the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt when she got too close. And, if her demon senses were right—which they always were—she knew what she was doing to you.

You just didn’t understand it.

That became clear one night when you sat beside her on the motel bed, eyes flickering down as you squirmed slightly.

Ruby arched a brow. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

Your lips pressed together, eyes darting away. “I don’t know.”

Ruby smirked. “Yeah?” She leaned in, voice a murmur. “Wanna tell me about it?”

You hesitated, fingers twisting together. “I just feel… weird.”

Ruby’s smirk grew. “Weird?”

You nodded. “Like, my stomach feels all fluttery, and I feel kinda warm. And, um…” Your voice trailed off, and Ruby nearly groaned at the way you bit your lip.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ruby cooed, brushing a finger beneath your chin, tilting your gaze up to meet hers. “You really are innocent, aren’t you?”

You swallowed, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

Ruby leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear. “I mean, you feel that way because of me.”

Your breath caught, and Ruby could practically hear the gears turning in your head.

She pulled back, watching the slow realization flicker in your eyes.

“Oh.”

Ruby grinned. “Yeah. Oh.”

She ran her fingers down your arm, feeling the shiver that followed. “And the wetness in your panties?” She tilted her head, eyes dark. “That’s me, too.”

Your lips parted, cheeks burning, but you still didn’t pull away.

Ruby chuckled, cupping your cheek. “So, tell me, sweetheart,” she murmured, thumb brushing over your skin. “Do you want me to teach you what it all means?”

You swallowed hard. And then, finally, you nodded. Ruby’s smirk was pure satisfaction.

“Good girl.”

She leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t demanding. She let you set the pace, let you melt into her. Her hands rested on your waist, warm and steady, as if she was letting you decide how far this would go.

And you wanted this.

You pressed closer, sighing into the kiss as your hands found their way to her shoulders, clinging to her like she was the only thing tethering you to this world. She deepened the kiss slowly, her tongue brushing against yours with the kind of reverence you had never imagined a demon capable of.

When she pulled back, her eyes searched yours. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“I won’t,” you whispered.

A small smile tugged at her lips. “That’s not the point. If you need me to, you tell me.”

You nodded, the weight of her words sinking into you.

She kissed you again, this time trailing her lips down to your jaw, to the hollow of your throat, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. You shivered as warmth pooled in your stomach, the feeling unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

Her hands slipped under your shirt, fingers tracing over your skin, slow and deliberate. You gasped at the sensation, at the way your body responded to her so easily.

“You’re so sensitive,” Ruby murmured, pulling your shirt over your head, letting her gaze rake over you. “Every little touch makes you shiver.”

You swallowed, heat rising to your cheeks. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”

Her hands slid down your sides, thumbs stroking over your hips as she pressed her forehead against yours. “You don’t have to do anything,” she assured. “Just feel. Let me take care of you.”

You exhaled shakily as she guided you back onto the bed, her hands never leaving your skin. She took her time undressing you, pausing between every article of clothing to kiss and worship every new inch of skin revealed to her.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered against your shoulder, her voice reverent.

You had never felt beautiful before. Not like this.

Ruby took her time, mapping your body with her lips, her hands, her tongue. She traced every curve, every hollow, learning you in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. And when her mouth moved lower, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, your thighs, your entire body tensed.

She noticed immediately.

“Relax,” she soothed, looking up at you from between your legs, her fingers tracing slow circles against your hip. “I’ve got you.”

You nodded, trying to breathe, trying to let yourself be here with her.

And then her mouth was on you.

You gasped, your back arching as a surge of pleasure shot through your body. Ruby held you down gently, her hands firm but comforting as she worked you open with agonizing care.

“You taste so good,” she murmured against you, the vibration of her voice sending another shock of sensation through your core.

You clutched at the sheets, your mind spiraling as she continued, her tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes. She wanted you to feel this. All of this. She wanted to make sure that when you came apart, it was because of her.

Every sound you made seemed to fuel her, her grip on you tightening, her movements growing more confident. She knew exactly when to slow down, when to speed up, when to curl her fingers just right to have you gasping her name.

“Ruby—”

She looked up at you, her mouth and fingers still working you over. “I know, baby. Let go.”

And you did. The pleasure built and built until it crashed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in sensation.

Ruby didn’t stop, not until your breath slowed, not until you were boneless beneath her, completely undone.

The world around you felt distant, blurred by the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your body. Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.

Ruby hovered over you, her body warm, solid—a grounding force in the chaos of sensation she had just pulled you through. Her lips ghosted over your temple, pressing a slow, lingering kiss there.

“You still with me, babe?” she murmured, her voice soft but teasing, her hands gliding up your sides.

You nodded, but words failed you. Your limbs felt heavy, your body spent—and yet, deep in your core, there was still a lingering ache, a quiet hum of want that hadn’t faded. If anything, the tenderness of her voice, the gentle drag of her fingers across your skin, only made it grow stronger.

Ruby smirked, sensing it immediately. “Oh, you’re not done yet,” she whispered, her lips trailing down your jaw. “I can feel it.”

Her fingers brushed against your thighs, spreading them again with ease. Your body jolted at the sensitivity, a whimper slipping from your lips as she touched you again.

“Ruby—”

She hummed in response, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone, working her way downward. “I told you I was going to take care of you,” she purred. “And I meant it.”

Before you could even process it, she shifted lower, sliding down your body, settling between your legs once more. Your breath hitched as her mouth found you again, her tongue flicking over the most sensitive part of you, drawing out every last aftershock.

It was overwhelming—too much and not enough all at once. Your hands flew to her hair, gripping tightly as pleasure bloomed anew, sharp and unbearable.

“I—I can’t—”

Ruby chuckled against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat through your core. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, her fingers replacing her mouth, stroking you with slow, deliberate precision. “You can.”

Your body arched off the bed as she slipped her fingers inside you again, pressing deep, curling just right, her tongue following in perfect rhythm. She worked you open slowly, methodically, building you up again before you even had time to recover from the first.

“Ruby—please—” You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore.

She smirked, pulling back just enough to look up at you. “You look so good like this,” she murmured, watching the way you writhed beneath her. “Falling apart for me.”

She moved suddenly, pulling her fingers from you, making you whimper at the loss. But before you could protest, she was shifting, guiding you onto your side, her body pressing flush against your back. One arm wrapped around your waist, holding you steady, while the other slipped between your legs again, her fingers finding you with ease.

You gasped at the new angle, at how much more you could feel. Ruby’s lips found the back of your neck, trailing slow, lazy kisses as she worked her fingers inside you, each movement careful and deliberate.

“You feel so good,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “So tight, so perfect—”

Your body clenched around her fingers, and she groaned against you, her hand tightening on your waist.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “Let go for me again.”

The pleasure built quickly this time, sharper, more consuming. Your body trembled in her hold, completely at her mercy as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally shattered again, Ruby held you through it—her lips at your shoulder, her fingers still working you through the intensity, drawing out every last tremor until you were gasping for breath.

She didn’t let go, didn’t pull away. Instead, she shifted you onto your stomach, her body pressing down against you, her knee sliding between your legs, pressing against the soaked heat of you.

“You’re shaking,” she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. “But you’re still so needy, aren’t you?”

You could barely form words, your mind clouded with pleasure. But Ruby didn’t need you to answer. She already knew.

She lifted herself slightly, pulling you back against her lap, guiding you to straddle her thigh. The pressure sent another jolt of sensation through you, and you gasped, your hands gripping her arms for support.

“Ride me,” she murmured, her hands resting on your hips, guiding you gently.

You hesitated, uncertain, still overwhelmed.

Ruby leaned in, brushing her lips over your ear. “You’re safe with me,” she whispered. “Just feel. Just let go.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, and slowly began to move. The friction was dizzying, the steady press of her thigh between your legs sending sparks through your core. Ruby held you steady, her grip firm but careful, letting you set the pace, letting you use her.

“That’s it,” she whispered, watching you intently. “Take what you need.”

Your movements grew more frantic, more desperate, and Ruby’s hands tightened on your waist, holding you in place as you chased your release.

And when it finally came, when the pleasure ripped through you for the third time, it was almost too much. You sobbed her name as your body locked up, shuddering against her, your wings trembling, your grace flickering wildly.

Ruby caught you as you collapsed, wrapping you in her arms, her breath warm against your neck as she whispered soft, soothing praises.

“That’s my girl,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You didn’t even realize you were shaking until she shifted you onto your back again, pulling the blankets over your exhausted body.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, her fingers stroking your cheek.

You nodded, dazed, completely spent. “That was…” You trailed off, still unable to find the words.

Ruby smirked, brushing damp hair from your forehead. “Yeah,” she murmured. “It was.”

She didn’t move away—not like you had feared she might. Instead, she pulled you close, her arms tightening around you, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.

“You did so well,” she whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’m proud of you.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion pulling you under. But before you slipped into sleep, you felt Ruby’s lips at your temple once more, her voice barely above a breath.

“You’re mine now, baby,” she whispered.

And you didn’t mind one bit.

Liz talks : So! This was a request, and I did see a few other Ruby authors get this request which kind of confused me but I didn’t see that until after I started to write it and I really didn’t want to scrap the whole thing because I genuinely did love the request plus it’s Ruby! But for future reference I do not take requests for the foreseeable future. I’m in college + I have two jobs and I feel that I wouldn’t be able to get through all of my requests in a decent amount of time to have that type of thing open!! (Not that I’m guaranteed to get a lot of requests but yk) so please be cautious about this. Thank you :)

Tags : @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @saltcxrcle , @vmiina , @nymphet-quenn , @samsblades

To get tagged in any future works of mine please check out this post!!

[rositaslabyrinth]

Mornings like this - Beau A

Beau Arlen x female!reader

Mornings with Beau are slow, golden, and full of love—the kind you feel in your bones.

Warnings ; smut (morning sex), fingering, implied condom use, aftercare, domestic fluff, established relationship

Word count ; 1,300

Minors please do not interact !!!

The sun filtered in slow and golden, slipping through the crack in the curtains you forgot to close last night. You stirred against Beau’s chest, his arm draped loosely over your waist, hand resting just under the hem of his shirt you’d worn to bed. His breathing was deep and steady, lips parted slightly, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

You didn’t move. Not yet.

These mornings were rare—no calls from the station, no cases, no interruptions. Just him and the warmth of the bed you’d never want to leave.

“Mm,” Beau’s voice came low and gravelly, still laced with sleep. “You starin’ at me again?”

You smiled. “Maybe.”

He cracked one eye open and grinned, hand tightening on your waist as he shifted, pulling you closer. “Can’t blame you, sweetheart. I’m a sight in the mornings.”

“You’ve got serious bedhead,” you teased, fingers sliding into his messy hair anyway.

He caught your wrist and kissed the inside gently. “Lucky for me, you seem to like it.”

“I like all of you.”

Beau hummed at that, his hand slipping beneath the hem of the shirt you’d stolen, fingertips tracing slow circles along your lower back. His voice dropped, a little rougher now.

“We don’t gotta be anywhere, right?”

“Nope.”

His smile turned lazy, wicked in a way that made your stomach flutter. “Then I’m thinkin’ we make the most of it.”

His mouth found yours in an unhurried kiss, one that tasted like sleep and sunlight and everything good. You sighed into it, your fingers curling against his chest, nails skimming the line of hair that disappeared beneath the sheets.

He rolled you onto your back, warm hands sliding beneath the fabric of the shirt you wore—his shirt—and pushing it up slowly, reverently. His gaze lingered on the soft skin he revealed, eyes dark and full of something tender and hungry all at once.

Your body arched slightly into him as his hand drifted lower, cupping between your thighs through the thin fabric of your panties. You let out a soft gasp, your hand grabbing his wrist lightly.

“Beau…”

“You want me to stop?” he asked, already knowing the answer. He nudged the curve of your ass with his hips, and you could feel he was already hard.

“No,” you whispered, tilting your head to give him more of your neck. “Don’t stop.”

That was all he needed.

His fingers pushed your panties aside with practiced ease, his touch featherlight at first—just enough to make you squirm. He groaned quietly against your skin when he felt how wet you already were for him.

“God, sweetheart,” he breathed. “You always this ready for me in the morning?”

“Only when you’re in bed with me.”

He chuckled, then slipped one finger inside you, slow and teasing. Then another. His rhythm was steady, patient, coaxing little moans from your lips with each curl of his fingers. Your hips rolled into him, chasing that pressure, needing more.

“Beau,” you gasped, turning your head to kiss him, messy and wanting. “Please.”

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured against your mouth, voice husky.

“You.

It came out like a plea. So he pulled back just long enough to tug your panties down and push his boxers off. You heard the rustle of the sheets, the faint sound of him reaching into the drawer beside the bed.

You turned to face him fully, pulling him between your legs. His body hovered over yours, one hand braced beside your head, the other cupping your thigh as he pushed in—slow, thick, deep.

You gasped at the stretch, the way he filled you so perfectly it almost hurt. He stilled for a moment, forehead pressed to yours.

“God, honey,” he groaned, breath shaky. “You feel like heaven.”

He started to move—long, slow thrusts that had your back arching off the bed. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together, pinning them above your head as he rocked into you, building a rhythm that stole your breath.

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer, over and over, and you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

When you came, it hit like a wave—your body tightening around him, mouth falling open in a broken moan. Beau kept moving through it, chasing his own release, hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom with a low, desperate groan of your name.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his skin warm and flushed.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. Just soft breathing and the distant hum of the morning outside.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he said finally, brushing hair from your damp forehead.

You smiled, sleepy and satisfied. “You ruined me first.”

Your body was still humming when it was over—warm, satisfied, and completely wrapped in him. Beau didn’t move right away. He stayed close, chest pressed to yours, hand smoothing gently along your side like he was trying to soothe every part of you back into stillness.

“You okay?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your damp forehead.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice quiet and full of something tender. “More than okay.”

He kissed your shoulder, your cheek, your lips—slow and lingering. Then he pulled back just enough to study your face, his expression serious in that gentle Beau way.

“Gonna get you cleaned up, alright?”

You nodded, letting him help. He moved with that quiet attentiveness he always had, slipping out of bed and grabbing a warm towel from the bathroom. You watched him through heavy eyes, completely undone by the way he cared without ever needing to say much. The towel was soft, the touch even softer as he cleaned you up, murmuring sweet things under his breath—you were perfect, you were beautiful, I’ve got you.

When he was done, he eased back into bed beside you, arms gathering you close again like he couldn’t stand being too far away. Your head found the curve of his shoulder, your fingers tracing lazy shapes across his chest.

“I love mornings like this,” you said softly, voice still sleepy.

Beau hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Me too.”

A beat passed before he shifted beneath you. “Stay in bed. I’ll make breakfast.”

You groaned. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said, nudging you down against the pillows. “You just relax, sweetheart.”

You heard him moving around the kitchen a few minutes later—drawers opening, the faint clatter of a pan, the soft buzz of country radio turned low in the background. The smell of coffee drifted into the bedroom, rich and comforting.

When he came back, he had a tray balanced in one hand—scrambled eggs, toast, a couple slices of bacon, and a mug of coffee with exactly the amount of sugar you liked. He placed it gently on the nightstand, then climbed back under the covers with you, letting you curl into his side again while you picked at the food.

“You spoil me,” you murmured between bites.

He smiled, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “That’s the plan.”

You ate in bed with the sheets still wrapped around your legs and Beau’s hand resting on your thigh. Everything outside the walls of the bedroom was quiet. Still. And for once, there was no rush to leave the warmth of this moment.

When you were finished, he took the tray away and came back just to pull you into his chest again, settling in like he belonged there—because he did.

You fell asleep with your hand over his heart and his fingers tangled with yours, the weight of his love wrapped around you like a blanket.

And in that moment, you knew—you could live a whole lifetime in mornings like this.

Liz talks : just a short little thing while I wrote something longer in the meantime !!! Beau is actually my fav character to write for so you all will def be seeing more of him TRUST!!

Tag list : @deansbbyx , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel , @sunnyteume , @deanswifeyy

To be added to my tag list so you don’t miss any future works of mine check out this post!!

[rositaslabyrinth]

Taglist!!

To keep me organized, and so that you guys will stay updated on my posts <3

Inspired by the lovely @bluemerakis tag list !!

Please comment the emoji(s) for the fic/works you’d like to be tagged in !!

Jensen ackles

- Dean Winchester : 🥧

- Beau Arlen : 🛻

- Soldier Boy : 🍺

- Alec McDowell : 💻

- Russell Shaw : ⏳

- All of the above : ⭐️

Jared Padalecki

- Sam Winchester : 🍏

Danneel ackles

- Anael/sister Jo (supernatural) : 🍄

- Rachel Gatina (One Tree Hill) : 👠

- tish (ten inch hero) : 💐

Supernatural characters

- Ruby (supernatural) : 🍟

- Castiel (supernatural) : 🪽

- Jo Harvelle (supernatural) : 🌹

- Charlie Bradbury (supernatural) : 🍁

My series

- Ruby x Angel!reader : 🌝

- angel grace vial!reader : 🌚

- Lacy!reader : 🌞

For my moodboards : 🪐

For all of my work : 🌈

[rositaslabyrinth]

Divine intervention - Ruby

Ruby x angel!reader (fem) 18+

Content warning : smut, mostly rough!ruby, fingering, eating out, literally just full smut, slight plot, dialogue is lowkey cringe so ignore that!

Ruby needing to let off steam, so she turns to you

Word count ; 1,152

Minors PLEASE do not interact !!

The room is dim, the tension in the air palpable. Ruby had been on edge all day—Dean’s constant comments had grated on her nerves, and her patience was wearing thin. By the time they were back in the motel, she was done. She needed to release the frustration that had built up all day, and you were right there.

Without saying a word, Ruby grabbed you by the wrist, dragging them into the room and slamming the door shut behind them. Her eyes burned with desire and irritation, and you could see that tonight, you weren’t going to get the usual sweet, teasing Ruby. Tonight, it was different. Ruby was taking what she needed, and there was no room for hesitation.

Ruby pushed you onto the bed, straddling you, her body pressing against yours. She looked down at you, her expression wild, hungry. There was no softness in her gaze, only the sharp edge of need.

“You’ve been so patient with me, haven’t you?” Ruby’s voice was low, her breath heavy. “Following the rules, always waiting. But tonight?” She grinned, her eyes dark with intent. “Tonight, I get what I need.”

Before you could even respond, Ruby’s hands were on them, ripping your clothes off, her movements frantic, urgent. She wasn’t interested in taking her time. Her fingers were rough as they traced down the your body, finding their way between your legs. She didn’t ask if you were ready. She didn’t care.

Ruby’s fingers brushed over your clit, pressing down in a way that made you gasp, your hips instinctively moving up to meet her touch. Ruby didn’t slow down. She kept going, teasing you, just enough to make your body squirm under her.

She slid a finger inside of you, her movement swift and deep, making you moan, your body shuddering beneath her. She wasn’t gentle—every thrust was deliberate, calculated to push you to their limit, to get them desperate for her.

Ruby’s lips hovered over theirs, her breath hot against their skin as she whispered, “I need you. I need you to fall apart for me.”

Your hands moved up to Ruby’s back, fingernails digging into her skin, but Ruby didn’t let you take control. She pinned you down with a brutal force, her lips crashing into yours as her fingers moved faster. She wanted to hear you beg for it.

“Please,” the you gasped, your voice shaky. “Ruby, I… I can’t—”

Ruby chuckled softly, her lips curling into a smirk. “You can. And you will.” Her fingers drove deeper, pushing you over the edge, but Ruby didn’t stop—she wanted more.

“Come for me,” Ruby growled, her voice rough with desire. “You want it. You need it. Don’t hold back from me.”

And with that, you couldn’t hold on any longer. Your body trembled, your orgasm crashing over you with violent force, your hands gripping Ruby’s shoulders as your back arched. Ruby’s fingers didn’t stop moving, making sure you had rode out the waves of pleasure, making sure you were completely undone beneath her.

She pulled her fingers away only when you were breathless, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. Ruby hovered above you, her breathing heavy but satisfied, as she kissed the angel’s lips softly. “You’re perfect.”

But Ruby wasn’t done. She wasn’t going to let you rest yet. Not when she still needed you.

She pulled away, her hands moving to your thighs, spreading them apart as she positioned herself over them once again. You barely had time to catch your breath before Ruby was sliding down between your legs, her mouth pressing to your clit, tasting you with a soft, greedy moan.

You gasped, your hands tangling in Ruby’s hair, trying to pull her closer, but Ruby wasn’t letting you control this. She was taking what she wanted, teasing you, using her mouth and fingers to bring you to the edge again.

“You’ve been so patient for me,” Ruby murmured between kisses, her voice teasing and rough. “Let me hear you beg again. I want to hear how much you need me.”

Your body was already shaking, your hips lifting to meet Ruby’s every move, your voice whimpering as you begged, “Please, Ruby… I need you so much.”

Ruby smiled against you, her eyes glinting with satisfaction as she licked deeper, making you cry out once more. Her fingers slid inside them again, curling and pressing, making you see stars. “That’s right. You’re mine. All mine.”

You couldn’t hold on anymore, your body trembling as you came again, shaking with the force of it as Ruby didn’t let up, drawing out the pleasure for as long as she could.

When she finally pulled away, Ruby kissed you softly, her lips gentle but still filled with the weight of what she had done. She was satisfied.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Ruby whispered, brushing a lock of hair from your face, her fingers tracing your skin softly.

You were still breathing heavily, your body soft and spent beneath her. They opened their eyes, looking up at Ruby, the expression in your gaze full of something deeper.

“You’re incredible,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. Ruby’s smile softened for a moment, her hand resting on the angel’s chest.

You wake to the smell of cheap motel coffee, your body warm and sore beneath the sheets.

Ruby is still beside you, stretched out on her stomach, smug as hell. You almost think you’ve gotten away with it. Until the door swings open

And Dean walks in.

You barely have time to grab the blanket, scrambling to cover yourself as he stares. He doesn’t look surprised. Just annoyed.

Ruby? She grins. “Morning, sunshine,” she drawls, propping herself up on her elbows. “Something you wanna say?”

Dean crosses his arms, his expression unimpressed. “Yeah. I wanna say that these walls are thin as hell, and I didn’t need a front-row seat to your little demon-angel porno last night.”

Your entire body burns. Sam appears behind him, looking equally exhausted and vaguely traumatized. “Seriously,” Sam mutters. “It was impossible to sleep.”

Dean levels you with a look. “Dude. I don’t need to hear you moaning like you just saw the face of God.” Ruby bursts out laughing.

You, meanwhile, want to disappear into the sheets and never resurface. Dean sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t care what you do, but if I have to hear that again, I’m exorcising something, and I don’t care what.”

He turns on his heel, marching out with Sam in tow, grumbling the whole way. The door slams shut. Silence.

Ruby smirks down at you, utterly delighted. “You really didn’t think about the walls, huh?” You groan, covering your face. “I hate you.” She chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, way too smug for her own good. “You love me.”

Note : Alright. Posting this is terrifying. Please tell me how you feel about this unless it’s mean LMFAOO. Also first fic (technically) with angel!reader and ruby although nothing really alludes to it because i lowkey forgot halfway through so my apologies

Tags : @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @mxltifxnd0m , @vmiina , @daylighted , @wchswift

If you want to be tagged in any future works of mine check here !!

[rositaslabyrinth]

Secondhand things - angel grace vial!reader

Shopping for clothes ⭑.ᐟ

With Sam away on a solo hunt, Dean volunteers—surprisingly—to take V shopping for clothes. What should be a quick errand turns into something quieter, softer.

Content warnings : none at all, just super cute stuff <33

Word count ; 528

The thrift store smelled like old books and worn leather. A little dusty, a little dim, but not unpleasant. A bell jingled softly as Dean pushed open the door, stepping inside ahead of you.

He hadn’t said much since you left the Bunker, just the occasional grumble about how he couldn’t believe he was doing this. But he’d volunteered—that was the part you still didn’t understand.

Sam was off on a solo hunt, and instead of going with him, Dean had offered—offered—to stay behind.

And now, here you were.

Dean glanced around the shop with a skeptical eye, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

You hesitated in the doorway, eyes sweeping over the racks of fabric, the shelves lined with folded shirts and jackets. There were too many choices—too many textures, too many colors. You weren’t used to this, to choosing.

Dean must’ve noticed your hesitation because he sighed, tilting his head toward the nearest rack. “C’mon, V. Just start looking.”

You nodded, stepping forward. The first thing you touched was a sweater—soft, thick. You ran your fingers over the fabric, frowning slightly.

“Too itchy,” Dean commented from behind you. You blinked at him. He gestured toward the other end of the rack. “Try one of those.”

You reached for another, softer sweater. When you pulled it off the hanger, Dean gave a small nod of approval, like you’d passed some sort of unspoken test.

You continued searching, picking things up, testing the weight of them in your hands. Dean never hovered, but he was there, keeping an eye on you. Once or twice, he reached past you to grab something off a higher shelf, handing it over without a word.

It was… quite comfortable.

Then you pulled a jacket off the rack—a brown, oversized thing, heavier than you expected. You turned it over in your hands, frowning slightly.

Dean eyed it, then huffed. “Try it on.” You hesitated. He rolled his eyes, taking it from you. “Here.” Before you could react, he was already holding it open for you.

You froze for half a second, caught off guard by the casualness of the gesture. Then, slowly, you stepped closer, sliding your arms through the sleeves.

Dean adjusted the collar, tugging the fabric into place over your shoulders. “Fits,” he muttered. The weight of the jacket settled over you. It was warm. Heavy in a way that felt… right.

You swallowed, glancing up at him. “It’s good?”Dean met your eyes briefly before looking away, clearing his throat. “Yeah. Looks fine. Something about the moment lingered, but neither of you said anything.

Instead, Dean stepped back, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Alright, is that it?”

You looked down at the jacket again. Your hands curled into the fabric. This was the first thing that was yours.

You nodded, barely whispering, “Thank you.” Dean just shrugged. “Yeah, well. Can’t have you running around in Sam’s old hoodie forever.” But you caught the way his voice softened, just a little.

And when you walked toward the register, he followed, still just close enough to make sure you were okay.

Note : shorter little thing for you guys <33 I actually love her sm I’m crying

Tags : @daylighted , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @wchswift , @soldierboysbeard

Anyone who wants to be tagged in this series or any other future works of mine you can check out here !!