#spn dean

[angel-e-v-a]

[wetsocksinbed]

no words just 2005 Dean Winchester

[anntova]

rodeo with Castiel

[gleafer]

Me, using my god given talent to capture likenesses as a way to make as many fictional characters kiss as possible.

And no one can STOP ME! Mwahahahahahahahpower! POWER!

Excuse me a cruel chuckle! Power mmhmmhmmyes-Prince John, probably

[raindropxoxo]

Whenever I’m sad or stressed I watch supernatural bloopers, my boys always make me smile 💕🥹

[-hiddlesdweeb-]

"Back on my Destiel bullshit"

- Local who has never, in fact, left the bullshit.

[jasvtsc]

just come kiss me and bite me

you were a vampire.

sure, it took some time for dean to get over it and deal with the fact that he fell in love with a bloodsucker.

was it against his morals and family values? absolutely.

did he give a shit? not at all.

and it’s not like you were a real vampire—well, you were in the matter of drinking blood. however, for some unknown reason, you reacted pretty badly to human blood. it made you sick, your throat burning, your fangs itching and your tongue swelling.

a vampire allergic to blood? yeah, pretty pathetic.

that’s why you could only drink blood from supernatural creatures—werewolves, witches, wendigos, hell even fairies. everything unusual and that had powers or whatever, was your dinner. so dating a hunter? a dream come true.

not only were you helpful, hunting down the threat with him but also you got your food intake. you weren’t harming anyone—just those who deserved it. and sure, maybe it was a bit hypocritical, a vamp going after its own kind but then again, you’d do anything to keep yourself alive.

however, there were times were you couldn’t help dean or you had to do something. so he came up with an idea that’d ensure you wouldn’t possibly starve to death.

he learned how to draw blood and now carrying a blood bags whenever he went, he’d take his time in an alley after killing a monster, getting as much protein for you as he could.

and honestly? you found it adorable.

today was no different from the others. you went back to the motel he was staying at after running some errands, and immediately made your way towards the bed, falling on the soft mattress with a sigh. dean watched you, noticing the way you looked even paler than usual, your slow blinking, and the way even your breathing was close to concerning. with a worried frown etched on his face, he helped you sit up on the bed, making you rest against the pillows, and then he grabbed a few blood bags out of the mini fridge.

“here. drink this, baby. it’ll make you feel better,” he said with a soft voice and a small smile, gently threading his fingers through your hair. you nodded and wrapped your lips around the straw, beginning to feed yourself.

dean watched you intently, and sure, he must’ve been disgusted by it, right?

wrong.

he knew there was probably something wrong with him and that he must’ve been insane, but he couldn’t help that he found you immensely attractive like that. not only, but he also got a massive boner as well.

there wasn’t a more beautiful sight to him than the one in front of his eyes right now. the way your skin was getting its less fair color back and the familiar sparkle in your eyes calmed his worries down. however, the way your lips were wrapped around the straw as you sucked, the way the blood trickled out from the corners of your mouth, going down your chin and throat to ultimately drip down between your breasts, and how your fangs were covered in crimson liquid, now in full display, as you let out a soft moan of pleasure with the prettiest blissed out expression he’d ever seen?

yeah, it was enough to make him cum in his pants.

he watched you intently as your chin was dripping with red, the way everything was falling on your slightly exposed chest. he licked his lips, absentmindedly palming his erected cock through the fabric of his jeans. he wanted to whimper because of how badly he wanted to bury himself inside of you right now, in hopes that you’d get that blood all over him.

you noticed him staring and quickly shied away. you turned around, your head tilted down as your hair covered your face—sometimes you felt ashamed that he had to see you like that. you had these thoughts that maybe he found you disgusting and in the end, you felt like you didn’t deserve him. he was too good for a bloodsucker like you. you were a monster—at least that’s what you thought.

as soon as dean noticed your attempt at hiding away from him, he blinked a few times and moved to kneel in front of you. he placed his hands on your knees, rubbing them soothingly with his thumbs, a loving smile on his face as he tried to look into your eyes.

“come on, don’t hide from me, baby. you don’t have to. you know that i love you. you’re my hungry little mosquito,” he chuckled as he moved your hair behind your ears, admiring your pretty face.

god, how could anyone say that you were an evil creature or a monster? you stared at him with those big eyes, looking so innocent despite the blood covering your chin and chest.

“you’re such a messy eater, sweetie,” he hummed, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb and letting you lick it clean. you put the bag away, now focusing on him.

and that only made him want you even more.

soon enough, he stood up and cupped your face, connecting your lips in a needy kiss. you widened your eyes at first and pulled back, trying to wipe the blood off of his mouth in panic.

“dean—”

“stop. you’re so hot right now,” he panted breathlessly, driven by desire. he grabbed your wrists and moved your hands away from his face, pinning you to the bed, and kissing you again.

he groaned into your mouth as you kissed him back, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. that was enough for him to start grinding his erection against your clothed core.

and in a matter of seconds, he was already thrusting into you, letting out a wave after wave of ungodly sounds, pathetically close to spilling his cum deep inside you.

[sammyluvr]

broken, fine for tonight — sam & dean winchester

cw : gn!winchester!reader, hurt/comfort, some angst, reader's the youngest sibling, injury/pain, nicknames (kid, bud, sweetheart), 1.3K words. requested !

summary : you break your ankle but your older brother's are convinced it's just a sprain and leave to finish up a hunt.

dean sounds all gruff and almost annoyed when he says you’ll have to stay in the motel while they take down this nest of vamps. “you’ll be no help with a jacked up ankle,” he grumbles, because it’d be easier with three than two. but his eyes are a little soft as they flick down to your injury and you know it’s just because he’s no good at dealing with being worried about you.

sam comes back from the bathroom, giving you a sympathetic smile as he sets another pair of pain pills on the bedside table next to your half empty plastic water bottle. “you’re good to take these in half an hour,” he says, “and we’ll grab you a proper brace on the way back, alright?”

you give him a tight smile, your breathing measured so it doesn’t come across as labored. “sure,” you agree, still fighting against the pain in your foot in order to appear as composed as you’re expected to be. when you twisted it earlier today, sam and dean brushed it off as a sprain and haven’t stopped to think otherwise since then. 

dean had hauled you back up with strong hands and a comforting pat to your back. you’re alright, he insisted, ‘s just a little sprain, you’ve dealt with worse. he wasn’t trying to be dismissive, but you’ve felt a sprain before, and you’re sure that this is worse.

it must be a pretty bad sprain, sam said with a soft frown when you let out a pained gasp after trying to put just the slightest bit of pressure on it. he looped your other arm around his shoulders, and the two of them practically carried you back to the motel room. they set you down on the bed, and you know that sam normally would’ve checked your ankle with a bit more precision and care most days, but you’re all pretty sure that the vamps have caught on to you, which means the faster they get into the nest, the better. so he simply propped your foot up on all the spare pillows in the room with gentle hands, cringing each time the movement made you wince in pain. he wrapped it in an ace bandage, and you nearly cried out loud as he did. mind otherwise occupied, he’d just told you the pain would fade soon enough.

you think that somewhere in the back of their minds, both of your brothers know that you’re in enough pain to understand that this is worse than they want it to be. their concern is easy to read, but sometimes they hate the prospect of you being hurt so much that they’ll focus that energy onto a different problem until they have to face this one. so they’re out the door before you know it. 

hopefully they’ll give you a longer look when they get back. you’d very much like to go to the hospital to get checked out and hopefully return to the motel with a cast and pair of crutches.

the pain only gets worse and the minutes just drag. time flows so slowly that you start to worry, just like you do every time they’re off on a hunt without you. if they’ve been gone this long, something must’ve gone wrong, right? you check the time and realize it’s been less than a full hour. the ibuprofen you took a bit ago does nothing to help. 

your ankle hurts so badly that you’re teary and sniffly and even though no one’s here to witness it, you’re embarrassed by it nonetheless. but you might as well get the tears out of the way before they come back.

you’re convinced that it’s broken, and by the time the headlights of the impala shine through the half-closed blinds of the motel, you’re in too much of a haze to notice the door unlocking and the boys tramping into the room.

sam’s through the door first, and the second he lays eyes on you, he knows something’s not quite right. he says your name, soft of course, but still loud enough for you to hear. you don’t look over, and he drops his bag on the floor to rush over. dean immediately picks up on the tone of sam’s voice, following close behind.

sam’s big hand on your forehead rouses you. “hey. you with us sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice quiet and clearly concerned. your eyes flutter open and the only thing you can think to do when you register the worry on his face is give him a rueful smile.

“i think it’s broken,” you mumble, voice quiet and tired. you’re somehow numb and still hurting so much at the same time. dean gives a little scoff, more so out of affection than frustration, and rounds the bed to look at your ankle. you wince when he moves it, this time not bothering to hide just how much it really hurts.

“you think?” dean repeats back to you, “jesus, kid, why didn’t you say something before?”

“you didn’t give me a chance,” you retort, frowning deeply but too tired to actually sound upset. “you both said it was sprained.” before dean can make some comment about how it’s your ankle, not theirs so how would they know, sam intervenes.

“we’re sorry, bud,” he murmurs, “we should’ve paid you more attention.” you don’t see the pointed look he gives dean not to argue with you right now, or the way dean puts his hands up in frustration, then softens when he looks back at you. he knows that sam’s right, it’s not fair to get all snarky with you. he’s just fueled by worry and he forgets that his worry very easily turns to anger and irritability. dean’s not upset with you at all, but he is at himself for not noticing just how badly you were injured.

the way that he gently carries you to the back seat of the impala is his apology, plus the promise to find your favorite food after you get checked out from the hospital. sam sits in the back with you to keep you steady. steady and held. his hand holds your head softly, his other keeping your leg still as the car rumbles down along the road.

tonight, everything will be fine. your ankle will heal and once properly treated, it’s true that the pain will fade. sure, they won’t pay the medical bills with real credit cards and the doctor might be impressed or concerned, or both, by your pain tolerance. because this certainly isn’t the first time you’ve been cooped up in the back seat of the impala, hurting and maybe even a little scared while sam holds you and dean drives.

he always steals glances back at you through the rearview mirror, making eye contact with sam to be sure you’re awake and well. but he has to be the one driving because he feels like that’s the only thing he has control of when you’re like this. he just absolutely horrified by the thought that there might be a dark night on empty roads after a hunt or a nearly world-ending event where his can’t drive fast enough. what if, someday, you die in his car and your blood stains the leather, because how could he wipe your blood from the seats like that?

and sam’s the one who’ll be holding you, staunching your blood with his jacket, whispering assurances that you’ll be alright. he’s terrified by the thought that there might be a night where, in the backseat of this car, the place you all silently call home, you’ll die in his arms.

those are the sorts of things they think about. they know that you think about your own nightmares of them dying too. but in this life, the only thing you can do is tuck those thoughts away, somewhere deep and hidden, because tonight, everything will be fine.

[angel-e-v-a]

[iamthejam]

spn as tweets pt 3

pt 1 and 2

[dean-every-day]

Dean (and Cas) everyday

Day (4)

Based on this

[wetsocksinbed]

something that’s never talked about: Dean “My Trauma Makes Me Stronger” Winchester having a full blown panic attack when he though he’d lost his car, thing he viewed as his home, the last connection he had to his father. It’s supposed to be a silly, quirky moment, but it’s actually so much more than that

[anntova]

I will cry

[dirigibleplumbing]

happy birthday, Castiel and "Lazarus Rising"

[tetragonia]