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riboism · 1 month ago

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tear you apart

》 mob boss! p.sh x fem. ballerina! reader

》 wc: 3.3k

》 plot: a powerful mob boss becomes dangerously distracted by a captivating ballerina, leading him to abandon an important business deal because of his new obsession. Determined to regain his focus, he confronts her one night after a show, only to find himself even deeper entangled in his desire—and a conflict that could jeopardize everything.

》 content: swan lake ballet, ballerina!reader, mob boss! seonghwa, dom! seonghwa, gloved finger-fucking?? eventual smut

🎧 tear you apart- she wants revenge, sour switchblade- elita, into the woods- bragolin

It was now the final act of the show. Rothbart was defeated, his dark powers broken, and the swan maidens were free at last. In the soft glow of the stage, you and Siegfried danced together, your movements light and delicate, like drifting feathers. Each step felt weightless as you floated through the scene, surrounded by the gentle swell of the orchestra and the dreamy, pearlescent backdrop that bathed everything in a soft, otherworldly light. This was the most serene moment of the entire performance—yet your heart raced wildly in your chest.

Throughout the entire show, a sense of unease gripped you, following your every movement on stage. No matter where you turned or what role you played, you felt his eyes on you, that same piercing, unrelenting gaze that had been following you all season.

Park Seonghwa always sat in the same seat, just a little off-center in the orchestra, ensuring he had the best view of you. Like clockwork, he was here every Saturday night, with his hair slicked back with precision, dressed in a long, black coat that skimmed the floor, and his leather-gloved hands resting motionless on his knees. His eyes followed you all over the stage, studying your every move, every tweak of your brow, his plump lips parted in fascination. His unblinking, stone-cold expression sent shivers down your spine, and yet, you couldn’t deny the intrigue it sparked in you. His observance of you, so focused and ceaseless, made you feel powerful—seen. As if, in his eyes, you were the only ballerina on that stage, the rest of the world fading into irrelevance. You almost looked forward to seeing him in the audience every night, that is, until some whisperings from the other ballerinas during dress rehearsal rattled you.

"A mobster? Really? I thought those only existed in Scorsese movies," one ballerina laughed softly, her eyes darting nervously to the corner where he sometimes lingered after performances.

"It's true!" another whispered eagerly. "He's part of the Park crime family. Remember when they started cracking down on drug trafficking? Then they suddenly dropped all charges. I heard he paid off half the force. And now—well, I hear he’s eyeing the theater as a front for money laundering."

There was more truth to their rumors than they realized. After his father’s sudden departure, Seonghwa had inherited the mantle, becoming the head of the Park family business—a role he’d taken on with cold, unerring resolve. He was trusted to be the new, pragmatic decision-maker, one who wold keep the family business running smoothly. Everything had been going according to plan, right down to choosing an old, run-down theater on the outskirts of town as his next investment.

It was a simple acquisition, one that should have been handled quickly. But one evening, he found himself sitting in the darkened theater, watching intently as you stepped onto the stage in your pearly white tutu, your sculpted legs covered in thick stockings, twirling on your experienced tippy toes, forcing him to wonder how you can move so gracefully while doing something that seemed so painful.

Seonghwa never thought much of performance art; it simply wasn’t his world. His world was dark, brutal, and unforgiving. But from the first graceful movement, and the beautiful melody from the live orchestra, he was captivated with the world of the Swan Lake. You moved with such elegance and emotion that he couldn’t look away, each gesture leaving him more entranced than the last. From that night on, he returned every evening you performed, ignoring his obligations just to see you dance. He became infatuated with the beauty and artistry he hadn’t known could exist.

The original plan was simple: aquire the theater, reshape it into something profitable, and then use the profits to conceal earnings. But now, the thought of disrupting your world was unbearable. Reluctantly, he abandoned the deal, his priorities now twisted by an enchantment he resented.

From that very first performance, you unknowingly unraveled the careful fabric of his plans. Seonghwa found himself slipping away from his duties week after week, drawn back to that same old theater. His associates began to worry, questioning his judgement, but he couldn’t help it. He told himself it was just a curiosity or distraction—anything but the truth. You had enchanted him, woven yourself into his thoughts so deeply that he couldn’t bring himself to go through with the acquisition. Every time he saw you, he was reminded of what he stood to lose.

His associates were quick to notice his shift, whispering about his lack of judgment and uncharacteristic indecision. They urged him to reconsider, to stay grounded—but he felt himself slipping. Trouble was on the horizon; he could sense it. Part of him loathed you for the hold you had over him, for making him slack off from his responsibilities. Yet, night after night, he was drawn back, helpless against the spell you’d cast, unable to break free, and unwilling to let go.

Seonghwa knew he couldn’t keep living like this. His soul was burning hopelessly, and he needed to put out this fire fast.

—

It was quiet now, the theater emptying as the final notes of the orchestra still seemed to hang faintly in the air. You slipped into your dressing room, exhausted yet exhilarated, the glow of the performance still warming you as you changed out of your costume. Carefully, you removed your stage makeup, wiping away the traces of the Swan Queen. The transformation always felt strange, trading feathers and grace for the ordinary routine of going home.

You packed your things slowly, placing each item into your bag with a practiced rhythm, already looking forward to the calm of your apartment. But as you reached for your coat, a prickle of unease returned. It was that lingering feeling, the sensation of being watched, that had haunted you all night.

The silence shattered with a sudden, firm knock on the door, catching you off guard. Your heart raced, and before you could even gather yourself to respond, the door creaked open, slow and deliberate. His face appeared in the dim light, and you caught your breath. It was him.

Seonghwa stepped in just enough for his figure to fill the doorway, his familiar dark coat draping around him like a shadow. His expression was unreadable, the same cold, composed look he always wore, yet his eyes held a strange intensity that made you feel hot.

Your heart pounded as he stood there, with his gaze fixed intently on you. You felt a flicker of fear—a quiet, instinctive warning. Everything about him radiated power, a kind of quiet danger that you couldn’t ignore. Yet, having him so close to you now felt exhilarating, almost like you were waiting for him to knock on your door.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” He apologized, his sharp features now softening in your presence, hoping to disarm you.

“I’m sorry, c-can I help you with something?”

He paced around your small dressing room, his eyes lingering on the little details—your stage makeup scattered across the vanity, the photo frames of other ballerinas lining the walls. Anxiety twisted in your stomach as you watched him, still unsure of why he was here. Then, he turned to you with an unreadable expression, extending his gloved hand. "I just wanted to introduce myself properly," he said, his voice smooth but distant, “Park Seonghwa. I’m from a private equity firm. I know the owner, Hongjoong.” Shakily, you reached out your hand, the leather of his glove feeling cold and unnatural against your skin. You suppressed a shiver as his grip lingered just a second longer than you expected.

“I’m Y/N.”

"Y/N...Congratulations on being this season’s Swan Queen," he continued, his voice low and deliberate. "You’ve done very well. You must be very pleased with yourself."

You managed a quiet thank you, though the words felt strange on your lips, your usual confidence faltering under his watchful gaze. His praise should have flattered you, but instead, it left you feeling oddly exposed, like he saw more than you intended to show.

He released your hand, but the strange, lingering sensation stayed with you, leaving you both captivated and nervous.

Feeling faint, you sat down on your vanity chair. "So, you know Hongjoong?" you asked, searching for some logic behind his sudden presence.

"I do," he replied smoothly, though there was a slight glint in his eye that betrayed him. "We’ve been discussing a potential business venture together."

The truth, however, was a little more complicated. Seonghwa had met Hongjoong only once, barely enough to call him an acquaintance. From the start, Hongjoong hadn’t seemed eager to hand over his only asset to a man of Seonghwa’s reputation, especially not when rumors swirled about his intention to repurpose the theater into something as mundane as a car wash to serve as a front for his family’s business. But Seonghwa knew how to persuade, and when he named his price, Hongjoong’s reluctance began to waver.

That first night, they’d arranged to negotiate the deal, and Seonghwa had come prepared to secure the theater with his usual finesse. But Hongjoong was running late. Growing tired from standing in the lobby all evening, Seonghwa decided to sit in an empty seat during the show only to rest his feet, but your elegant movements captivated him, and made him forget who he was and why he was there.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you in a way that made the small room feel even smaller. Your breath hitched as his intense gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. The air between you felt charged, the warmth of his presence mingling with the lingering cold from his leather gloves.

“But I’m not here to talk about that,” He said, towering over you, “I could actually use your help in something.”

There was something odd yet inticing about his request. What could he, a possible mob boss, want from someone like you?

“And what might that be?” You asked, your throat suddenly feeling dry.

He was so close to you now that you could pick up the warming notes of his cologne— spices, sandalwood, and a hint of citrus. You’d seen his face a thousand times before, always shrouded in the dim lighting of the audience, his expression always stoic and muted. But now, with the light catching the sharp angles of his cheekbones and his plush and perfect lips just inches away from you, he was utterly captivating. You couldn’t look away.

"You see, I have this problem," he said, pacing slowly around you, his voice steady but laced with something unspoken. The air shifted each time he moved, the chill of his absence replaced by an intoxicating warmth as he drew near again.

"A problem?" you echoed, your voice a little breathless, trying to focus as his reflection loomed behind you in the mirror.

"Mm." He stopped directly behind you, lowering his head closer to the nape of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "It’s you," he admitted, his tone dropping into something dangerously intimate.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me?"

Seonghwa straightened himself, meeting your wide-eyed gaze in the mirror, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smirk. "You’re making it very hard for me to focus on my job," he said. His words were as smooth as they were direct. "And when a man like me gets distracted… it causes complications."

He moved again, standing to your side now, his hand resting lightly on the back of your chair. The closeness was almost unbearable, every nerve in your body hyper-aware of his presence.

"So," he continued, his eyes locking onto yours, "I thought perhaps you could help me resolve this little… issue of mine."

Your mind raced to comprehend the suggestion wrapped in his words. The way he looked at you left no room for misinterpretation, his meaning clear without being crass. You felt a sudden pulse between your legs, forcing you to squeeze your thighs tighter.

"And how exactly would I… help?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seonghwa tilted his head, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "You’re a clever woman," he said, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your shoulder with deliberate care. "I think you already know."

—

You sat perched on your dressing table, forced to see yourself reflected in the mirror. There was a nervous flutter in your stomach as Seonghwa loomed behind you, his broad shoulders and low eyes making your breath hitch. You watched as he parted your thighs before eagerly ripping at the center seam of your stocking, revealing your glistening cunt to you both. Before you could react, he brought down his gloved hand, tapping on your pulsing clit a few times before pressing down in slow and small circles.

The coldness of the leather made you gasp, your heartbeat spiraling in excitement. You could see your slick coating his fingers, bringing a faint shine to his black gloves.

“Such a fat little pussy,” he breathed into your neck, the sudden warmth making a few hairs stand at your nape. He lightly slapped your cunt again, his mouth watering at your chubby, wet folds. “Didn’t think such a sweet little ballerina had something like this between her legs.”

You couldn’t help but feel vulnerable as you took in your reflection, hardly recognizing the scantily clad woman before you. You pressed your eyes shut as he continued pulling a string of shaky, breathless moans from your lips.

“Let’s see how well this little pussy can take me, hm?” He challenged, refusing to wait for your response before inserting a leathered digit into your wet walls. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, struggling to wrap around the thickness of his glove. Seonghwa chuckled at your tightness.

“Please,” You begged, tightly holding onto his working arm. But the desperation in your voice only egged him on. He thrust in a merciless rhythm, the squelching sounds from your arousal sending blood down to his groin.

“Please what dear? You want more?” Seonghwa grinned devilishly before stuffing in another finger, the sudden stretch sending a mix of pain and pleasure to your core. He worked you open at a brutal pace, soaking in your sweet moans as you gripped onto him tighter.

You were slowly coming undone, your knees quivering and threatening to cave in. You felt his hand grip onto your inner thigh, holding you open as much as possible for him. It was then that you fluttered your eyes open, only to find his gaze already locked onto yours in the mirror. You felt a twist in your stomach like he’d caught you doing something you shouldn’t be doing. You quickly realized that Seonghwa had been watching you in the mirror, his gaze unwavering as he took in every tear tracing your scorned red cheek, the delicate furrow of your brow, and the way your plush, pouty lips let out the softest, most beautiful whines he’d ever heard. Just as enchanting as your expressions were on stage, they were even more alluring here as he ravished you at his will.

His fingers were so much deeper now, hitting you in all the right places, until the tension inside of you snapped and you finally let go all over his gloved fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You sputtered, watching your wetness drip down his gloves. Exhaustion suddenly took over you, forcing your head to fall against his chest.

“I hope you don’t think we’re finished here,” He whispered, his soft, full lips feathering over your ear lobe, “There’s still a lot of things I need you to do.”

—

You were sprawled out over the table now, your top completely discarded, leaving you in just your ripped stockings. Seonghwa liked the stockings you wore on stage. They were so pearly and smooth, and he almost felt bad for ruining them this way. He leaned down and peppered a trail of kisses under your ear, down to your collarbone, lingering over your hardened peaks briefly, before continuing down to your pelvis.

You felt a wave of heat spread over you as he kissed around the outside of your cunt before spreading your lips with his fingers, reuniting you with the coldness of the leather. He dragged his long, warm tongue over your hot slit, groaning once your essence reached his tastebuds.

“You taste just as sweet as you look,” He praised, before wrapping his lips over your swollen clit. He sucked and pulled, swallowing every bit of juice you offered him hungrily.

Your back arched in bliss, your hips rolling as he gleefully lapped away at your cunt. He pressed his strong hands down your inner thighs to keep you still, your puffy pussy now spread completely open for him to devour. He savored every drop of you, like a predator that spent weeks catching its prey.

Seonghwa told himself he’d finally be rid of this infatuation after tonight and return to his duties with no more distractions, but how could he now after seeing you like this? With your body so willing, the sheer afterglow hitting your face and collarbones, the uneasy rise of your chest, and those lustful, messy moans? It all enticed him even further, and he worried he’d never be able to stay away.

Seonghwa was at his peak now, and he couldn’t hold out any longer. He quickly sprang up at his feet, the sounds of his belt unbuckling making your core throb with anticipation. His angry, red tip pressed against your slit, making you gasp at how hot and hard he felt.

Seonghwa pushed himself in slowly, inch by inch until his shaft was completely sucked in by you. He cursed at your tightness and moved his hips slowly, allowing you to adjust to his girth.

“Fuck!” You cried out, curling your toes as he plunged deeper into you. He fucked you hard and rough, determined to take all his anger and frustrations out on you so that he could return to his stoic self. He hated you for throwing him off his game, and he still held onto that hope that he’d finally let go of all his pent up emotions once he finishes fucking your brains out. He just needed to get it out of his system.

You winced at his tight grasp on your hips. His pace was brutal, the sounds of your dressing table rocking against the wall overpowering your desperate screams, yet you refused to open your eyes. You didn’t want to see his face while he thrusted into you with an unspoken vendetta. His gaze alone made you feel even more hot and frazzled.

Suddenly, you felt his hand creep to the back of your head, pulling your head up by a fistful of strands. You took in a sharp breath, the pain of your pulled hair forcing you to open your eyes at last.

“Look at how good you fucking take me,” He grunted, pushing your head down farther to help you get a good look at his cock stretching out your swollen cunt. “ ‘Take me just like a good girl.”

Your face grew hot as you watched yourself take him in, eyes bulging at his thick cock that was decorated with pulsing veins and twitched inside of you so deliciously. So drunk off his cock, you found yourself rambling nonsense as he fucked you into oblivion. “Yes, yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me so good!”

You felt you both were melting into each other, your breathing growing erratic and unsteady until you finally lost your composure.

Seonghwa pulled out of you, spilling himself over your wet cunt as he sucked in a breath, making sure to milk out every last drop of his seed. You couldn’t help but watch as he spread his thick, white cum over your swollen pussy lips, your body twitching from the sensitivity.

When you looked up at him, you found his face flushed as red as yours, his mouth slightly agape, with an expression that caught you off guard. The moody, confident alpha male who had entered your room now seemed unsteady, his composure cracked, leaving him looking utterly broken and confused.

He leaned down, his breath mingling with yours for a fleeting moment before his lips finally pressed against yours. The kiss was seamless, as though the two of you had been meant to move together in this way all along. The warmth of his touch ignited something between you, a spark that quickly became a flame, and a flame that would soon become a raging fire that could never be put out.

Seonghwa's desire for you only intensified in that moment. Whatever his plans had been before tonight, they now felt irrelevant, tangled up in the web of feelings he could no longer suppress. He didn’t know what this meant for his current predicament—how this would complicate everything—but one thing was certain: he wouldn’t be letting you go anytime soon. He’s marked his destiny by letting himself be engulfed in the flames.

#ateez smut #ateez fanfic #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #seonghwa scenarios #park seonghwa smut #park seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader

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ultravi0lence14 · 1 month ago

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Only Angel

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.9k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: dean winchester needed a little clarity in his life, and you were just his only angel to do it.

dean watched as you sat on the sidewalk in front of the motel, back hunched and eyes raking over the passages in a book sam had given you. he could see the angelic side of you clear as day, but that could’ve just been dean admiring your pretty features.

around a year ago, when dean was taken out of hell and met the angel castiel, he and his brother learned that cas wasn’t the only angel who decided to touch down to earth. you followed behind cas like a confused puppy, looking at earth and all the things you’d only heard about in passing from different angels.

you were always catching dean’s attention. whether it be the way you just sat and stared sometimes, hands placed in your lap and eyes vacant like there was no thought behind them. but somehow, dean knew that you were thinking about heaven. you had rebelled just like cas, and he could see it on your face that those human emotions were starting to take a tole on you.

when he found you one night sitting per usual, dean couldn’t stop himself from gently grabbing your arm and leading you to the small field behind the motel. there, he instructed you to look up, showing you all the stars in the sky and telling you that whenever you missed heaven, just look up, and you can imagine all your brothers and sisters as those little beams of light.

he even tried to tell you that when lightening struck, you could envision it as your brothers and sisters bowling. but all you did was stare at him funny, informing him that angel’s didn’t play any recreational games in heaven.

since that night, you felt drawn to dean. always going to him when you had questions, staying close to him when you and cas were around. dean noticed it too, but he couldn’t find any place in himself where he wanted you to stop.

so the night you appeared to dean in his motel room, not saying a word as you quickly strode over to him and planted your lips on his, dean couldn’t find it in himself to push you away. he tangled his hands in your hair, bringing you close by the small of your back and drinking in the addictive feeling of your lips on his.

the movement of your lips were small and tentative, but dean didn’t seem to care. you being shy and inexperienced added more to the charm you already exuded, and dean loved every bit of it.

you later told him that the reason you kissed him was because that’s what sam told you to do when you felt fluttery feelings in your stomach around someone. dean swore to himself that he’d be owing sam for the rest of his life because of that.

that was all a couple months ago, and now, dean watched as you shifted a strand of hair behind your ear. the black and white striped tank top, alongside the dusty pink skirt that flowed around your thighs made him want to pick you up and take you right there in the back of the impala; but dean didn’t want to rush you, so he fought his self control as best as he could.

a soft sound of feet shuffling against gravel rang through dean’s ears as he leaned over the impala’s hood, tinkering with the gears and wires to make sure everything was okay. he didn’t think much of it, but since his back was facing where you were initially sitting, he had no idea that it was your ballet flat covered feet making all the noise.

“hey dean?” your voice rang from somewhere in front of him, not sparking any questions as he gravelly called out a ‘yes baby?’ in response to your ribbon like soft voice. “when are you going to teach me how to use this?”

he lifted his head in surprise, a quizzical look dawning on his face. when he turned and noticed you weren’t sat behind him anymore, he slowly moved his head towards the boot of the impala and watched with shock as you held a shot gun full of rock salt in your arms.

eyes wide, he quickly moved his head from under the hood and rushed over to you with breaths of ‘woah’ under his lips. in an instant, he took it from your hands, ignoring your adorable pouty lips as he placed it back in the trunk. “jesus feather’s, be careful. could’ve taken an eye out.”

you frowned as he simply just walked away, ignoring your original question and moving to the front seat of the impala. “you didn’t answer my question dean.” your feet planted themselves by the opening of the drivers side door. left foot tapping impatiently as you stared intently at dean’s side profile. “i want to learn how to use it.”

dean just chuckled, turning to plant his feet on the gravel and staring into your stoic eyes. instead of dangling by your side, you had your arms crossed over your chest in a defiance of anger. though dean couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you looked.

“i’m not kidding dean!” you basically whined, sending thoughts to dean’s head that he probably shouldn’t be thinking at the moment. “i want to be helpful. my grace can only take me so far.”

with a sigh leaving his lips, dean held back his immediate rebuttal to your argument. he wanted you to feel useful. feel how important you were to him and sam. he just selfishly didn’t want you to be corrupted by all the things that ruined him. you were so pure in your own sense. being able to use your grace to fight was one way you held onto that angelic side of you. he couldn’t bare do that to you.

dean also knew that you wanted to do this. all he could muster to do was grip your waist tightly in his hands and drag your body in between his legs. his arms went up to wrap around your lower back and torso, head tilted upwards so he could look at you through his lashes. you knew he was trying to use his charm and looks to sway you towards his ideas. you felt like a lovesick follow for following his bright green eyes so easily.

“you are helpful in your own ways baby, i hope you know that.” with a grin on his lips, dean stood up and rested his hands low on your ass, giving it a firm tap before kissing your cheek. “though if this is what you want, than get in the car. i have an idea.”

a light squeal left your lips as you reached on your tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on dean’s lips. your feet shuffled around the impala and into the passenger seat, watching as dean slammed the hood of the car down and situated himself behind the wheel. in an instant, he was backing out of the parking lot and speeding down the street.

he turned onto a desolate side street, fields and dirt roads in every direction as the smell of fresh grass wafted through the windows. you looked quizzically out at the scenery, wondering what dean had in mind as his hand rested gently on your upper thigh.

slowly stopping beside an open field, dean got out of the car, watching idly as his angel sat stiff and still in the car. grabbing one of the many hand guns from the trunk, dean opened the passenger side door and chuckled as you stared up at him with wide, curious eyes. “c’mon sweets. i’m gonna teach you how to shoot.”

with an eager and excited smile on your face, you scampered out of the car and flung your arms around dean’s shoulders. peppering many kisses around his face, you joyously mumbled thank you’s into each of your kisses. dean’s laugh reverberated off his chest as you ran off towards the middle of the field, waving him over when you found a good spot.

meeting you where the field took a decline to a hill; showing acres of grass and trees at the bottom, dean slowly handed you the gun as he situated himself behind you. “the first and most important thing to know is how to hold it.” dean snaked his arms around your body as he spoke, arms positioning your own as his hands clutched yours in the perfect position.

“there ya go angel. just like that, you’re doing amazing.” dean’s praise fell deftly onto the shell of your ear, his breath hitting a spot on your neck that made a deep sigh erupt from your throat. dean’s explanation on how to aim and the recoil of some gun’s fell deaf to your ears. all you could feel was his arms wrapped around you, his solid chest pressed to your back as his chin rested on your shoulder. this was too much. and you were starting to wonder if asking dean to fuck you, right now, in the impala’s back seat, was such a bad idea.

“now just put your finger on the trigger.” dean’s words started to register again in your brain, and when you felt him back up a bit and allow you to get into position, you felt the desire you had moments ago be replaced by the overwhelming feeling of learning something new.

dean watched you as you got into position. squaring your shoulders and lifting your arms up in aim as dean relished in how you looked at the moment.

you looked so out of place. so out of your element as you held one of his guns, skirt billowing around your upper thighs in the wind. you looked out of place, but so ethereal. so beautiful in dean’s eyes that he couldn’t believe you chose him.

“is this okay?” your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as you questioned the placement of your arms. dean couldn’t help but move closer to your back again as he looked over your stance.

“yeah lovely, that’s perfect. you’re doin’ amazing.” his words encouraged you to pull the trigger, a loud pop ringing through the air as the bullet whizzed right into the lone beer bottle that dean had grabbed earlier for target practice.

an excited squeak tore from your lips, legs jumping up and down as dean’s arms wrapped around your middle. he swung you around, exclaiming in happiness as you laughed with joy. you did it on your first try, and dean couldn’t be anymore proud.

“look at you baby, that was amazing.” dean’s excitement could be heard through his voice. when he spun you around, the glimmer of pride even sparked in his eyes. “i’m so proud of you, angel, you’ve come so far.” no words came from your mouth. all you could manage was a feeble hug to show your love. dean knew what you were implying, hugging you back twice as hard as his hand smoothed down your hair.

his mouth was by your ear, whispering sweet nothings as you held onto him tightly. with a gentle kiss on his collarbone, you pulled away and grabbed his hand, dragging him back to the car with a happy skip in your step. “c’mon! i wanna go back to the motel and tell sam and cas!”

how could dean say no to his perfect angel? his only angel.

#supernatural #dean winchester #imagine #sam winchester #supernatural x reader #fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fanfiction

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u213-art · 2 years ago

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