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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months ago

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@zepskies

Hello my lovely friend! I am so happy to hear that you liked this chapter🥰. I was also very excited to read your chapter of "The Honorable Choice" today!

I love how you describe NYC here as Ben tries to figure out between his memories and what he's seeing. It really must've been so discombobulating for him, painful even, to know how much of his life has been eaten away and how the world has moved on without him.

This is exactly what I was going for! I really love that scene in the show where Ben is walking through NYC, but Jensen does such a wonderful job of showing how out of place Ben feels in that moment. Everything he's seeing is brand new with shades of the old world he used to know and he's gotta feel alone. Everyone he knew has either died or tried to stab him in the back. 😬

This feels very Ben, and it's heartbreaking really. He has that hope deep inside, almost immediately by the instinct to stamp it down for the sake of perceived "femininity," as if that equates with weakness. (Obviously for him it does.)

I know 😅😭 I wish that he wasn't this way, but Ben is so conflicted about expressing his emotions and he's not comfortable with those kinds of feelings. But at the same time it's what makes him so interesting to write for and also another thing that the reader can make him comfortable with. I really love that trope, when the reader is the only person that the grumpy guy can open up to and not feel judged by saying what they're really feeling.

And Yes! I always write Ben's mother as the softer parent that comforted Ben when he was a kid. It makes sense in the time period he grew up in, and maybe I'm also thinking a little bit about how Dean Winchester's mother was to him when he was a kid 😂

LOVE the gif of Shaq lol

Also, I love how you described how she's the "amalgamation" of every woman Ben's ever been attracted to, even comparing her to the women he noticed in his youth, and who he hasn't seen ever since. It's a special kind of timeless feeling that gets to the heart of him in what feels like a realistic way. 👌🏽

Thank you!! That is actually one of my favorite bits in this chapter. To me, Ben seems like the kind of guy who really likes a classic look and women who embody the characteristics of "the good old days." I mean, the dude complains so much about how things "used to be" that he's gotta be missing the way women acted when he was a kid lol 😂

Bruh could've at least talked to her and explained himself before he ran away, but nooo. Granted, he's going through a lot coming back to the U.S., and he's already gone through so much and has so much hate in his heart, it's probably for the best that he leaves her for now.

It broke my heart for him to turn his back on her too! But you're right, he should have tried to just be like "I'm your soulmate, tell me your address, I'll be right back." Unfortunately I feel like Ben would have said "I'm your soulmate. Tell me your address. I'll be back in a few days I just gotta kill some people first" LMFAO lol

I also can't stand minimalism. I mean I like things clean, but I need furniture that is actually comfortable lol

Yeep, precisely what I thought would happen, but the self-reflection is good, and the break from frivolous sex lol. Though to be fair, this means he hasn't gotten any since before the Russians got him. Also on-brand that he'd call it "pussy-like" to be pining for his own soulmate lmao.

I was really on the fence about Ben having a problem being with other women, because he is so sexually forward and comfortable with casual sex. In Take A Chance On Me, Ben is having sex with other women, but he's confused why he keeps thinking about the reader, but this felt different because it's his soulmate. So for me it feels right that no one else holds any appeal. Self-reflection is good lol. You're right he hasn't gotten any since Russia, but maybe it's easier for him now because he hasn't been having sex regularly or hasn't in the past forty years? 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also yeah, dude is simping over the other half of his soul and he still thinks that he shouldn't be feeling any emotion lol. The man is perplexed lol.

I had to throw in the Lorena Bobbitt 😂 If anyone had a freaky soulmate it had to be Legend. I love him, but he's got the same vibes as Barry's uncle in Bee Movie who is talking about the cricket with "crazy legs" 🤣🤭

Thank you so much friend! I always love hearing what you think 🤗 Oh and next chapter is going to be... different. Maybe even a little heartbreaking. 😅😬

Chapter 2: I'll Never Let You Go Again Like I Did

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Little bit sad, DENIAL, Homophobic Comments (Soldier Boy), Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of using drugs, Sexism, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of torture (Soldier Boy's Time in Russia) Loneliness, Longing (I mean… as close as Soldier Boy can get to it), Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.4K

Song Inspiration For This Chapter: Until I Found You (chapter title is lyric from this song) and Coming Back For You

Note: Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

Playlist for Series (Spotify)

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: Oh my goodness I'm so excited about this series and thank you so much to everyone for all the wonderful love and support so far! It really means the world to me 🥰

One Year Ago: Ben POV

Ben squinted his eyes as he stepped out into the brilliant sunshine of the early morning, shouldering the strap of his worn backpack with a huff. The people on the crowded, gum covered sidewalks shot him odd looks and gave him a wide birth as he made his way down the path, but he didn't care, in fact he didn't notice them. His mind was somewhere else.

He wasn't sure where he was going, just that something in the pit of his stomach was pointing him in this direction. Ben had started walking in what he thought was the way to Legend's apartment, but the streets looked so different than the last time he was in New York and he was a little turned around, but he wasn't going to admit that to anyone.

And there was something in the pit of his stomach, some instinct or gut feeling, that was telling him he needed to go this way.

It was an odd feeling that prickled on the back of his neck, as if he'd forgotten something. Ben wondered what exactly it was that he'd forgotten. He hadn’t spoken aloud to anyone other than the scientists who kept him locked in a cage so he didn’t exactly have a social calendar to follow up on.

I've been locked in a lab for forty fucking years, what is there to forget?

But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed just out of reach.

Ben raised his eyes from the sidewalk with a sigh to look at the people passing by, taking in their new clothing and different hairstyles to distract himself. He frowned at the bizarre groups of people to him that flit by on their merry way, muttering little things under his breath about how things used to be.

Ben had a feeling that he was going to be doing that a lot.

New York City was different, the same, but different. Even though Ben had been gone for forty years, it still felt like the center of the universe. There were still hot dog vendors on every street corner, still magazine stands with freshly printed newspapers that smelled like ink and were warm to the touch, still coffee shops that lined the streets and caffeinated the masses, and there were still cab drivers who wove through traffic as if they were unstoppable shouting at pedestrians as they went.

The memories he had of old New York City merged together with what he was seeing around him and felt himself slipping into the past only to be jolted back into reality by the strangeness of the future.

He didn't like feeling disoriented, but it was there, brimming just under the surface. His body was tense as he walked prepared for anything, unable to relax as he continued on his way to wherever the hell it was he was going.

The morning sunlight reflected off the glass windows of the skyscrapers that worshiped the rising sun and the sounds of the city vibrated against the brick and mortar. There was a buzz of electricity in the air, the low hum of power that Ben could always hear beneath it all. Cars honked sharply, people shouted in colorful language to one another, and the wind rustled through the long strands of Ben's hair crinkling against his ears and scratching against his neck.

He hadn't had time to cut it or his beard and it didn't seem to be as important as finding Legend and getting his affairs in order.

The smell of hotdogs, earth, cologne, and heavy perfume wafted up with the breeze that tugged and pulled at his sweatsuit. The same stained sweatsuit he had found in a rust covered locker before hiding in the cargo hold of a plane headed back to the U.S that was probably almost as old as him. The plane ride had been long, but when he'd been in a lab for the past forty years it seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. He spent the whole time stewing in his thoughts. He'd slept enough and like hell he was going to drift off and let those Russian fucks take him again.

Ben sighed when he felt his memories begin to unravel on the edge of his mind, unfurling and asking to be relived. It wasn't unusual or unwelcome. Ben was using those memories to justify what he was going to do to his old team. As long as the rage continued to burn against his skin, Ben would have no problem breaking each of them down piece by piece.

Ben didn't understand how his team could have done that to him or why they'd done it to him. He thought that he'd been a good leader, a good American, a good soldier, a good hero, and yet they'd all stabbed him in the back. Sure, maybe he'd been a little rough on them, but Ben saw it as the only way to toughen them up. They needed thicker skin if they were going to survive in a world like this.

All I've done is give my fucking life to this country and what did they do? They gave me to the fucking reds.

His hand tightens on the strap of his backpack as he weaves through the crowds, trying his best to keep to himself when all he can feel is his anger and frustration building and burning hot under his rib cage. His new power stirred beneath the surface, energy beginning to travel through his body, tracing his veins and pulsing in the center of his chest.

I should have seen it coming. I should have killed that entire fucking bunch of pussies the second I had the chance. Especially that bitch.

His frowned at the thought of Countess.

Truthfully, when the two of them started messing around it was only because Countess's soulmate had died a few years before and Ben knew he wasn't going to meet his soon if anytime. He'd messed around with plenty of other women for the same reason and well…

Ben's frown deepened as he stepped around a couple that was walking arm and arm, the dates on their wrists flashing gold in the sunlight. He ignores the feeling that comes when he sees them, pushes it down into the deep recesses of his mind as he has done his whole life.

Since he was a kid, Ben wasn't sure that he believed the "soulmate thing." Sure he'd seen hundreds of other people around him find "the one," but Ben wasn't sure that he was made to be a soulmate. Especially not with a birthdate on his wrist so far in the future. He assumed that it meant he wasn't going to get a soulmate and he'd spent the better part of his life pretending that he didn't care about that. He was a man after all, and Ben didn't want to need anyone. At least, that was what he told himself.

Ben had lived long enough to see other soulmates find one another, witnessed the goofy looks on their faces when they locked eyes for the first time, and had the super hearing to listen to what came next.

But instead of focusing on the impossibility to meeting his own, Ben focused on the lie he told himself, that it seemed ridiculous to be intertwined with someone as soon as he was born. Not to mention that Ben wasn't sure that he wanted to be with someone, not when he didn't age and not when he'd have to watch whoever it was, if anyone turn to dust.

Yes, he could see himself settling down with someone, having a few kids, but Ben wasn't sure that whoever was supposed to be his other half was within reach anyway so why care? Ben knew that he didn't age, but he didn't actually think he'd ever get to meet you or that you would actually ever exist. Not when you were born so far away from him and not when he'd been trapped in that lab.

But that didn't stop a part of him from thinking about the possibility of meeting you. When things were quiet in the lab and he was left alone for a few precious moments, he felt his mind begin to slip into the question of what if?

What if you existed and what if you came for him?

He knew that it was a long shot. The only people that knew he was there were the people who stabbed him in the back. And Ben didn't want to cling to some fantasy, it felt feminine to fanaticize about the person who was supposedly meant for him breaking down the thick metal door and pulling him from the lab.

Again, Ben was trying not to believe in the "soulmate bullshit."

Countess had been a way of passing the time as had the numerous other women, but with them were moments when he'd feel something odd settle in his chest, something that he never could put a name to. In those moments he would raise his right arm and look at the birthdate printed on his wrist, the same one that Ben had kept hidden for most of his life, the one that when he was a boy people mocked him for, and the one his father chastised him for having as if it was Ben's fault that some celestial body had decided to single him out.

All of his childhood friends had found their soulmates and Ben had spent the better part of his life covering it up to avoid the conversation that always happened when someone saw the date. No ones soulmate was born so far in the future and Ben’s father had spent a lot of money making sure that word didn’t get out his son was a freak.

His father already made Ben feel like a disappointment and a fuck-up, but Ben was already thinking it himself every time he looked at the date printed on his wrist that seemed impossible. When his mother was alive she would try her best to make Ben feel better telling him that it wasn't impossible, that one day it would all make sense, but after her death Ben stopped feeling comfort, joy, and anything warm. All he felt was the cold shoulder from his father and the words that Ben pretended didn't hurt when his father was halfway through his second bottle of scotch with a third prepped and waiting on the kitchen table.

It made Ben feel like a pussy every time he looked at the mark and thought about his future soulmate, but he did it in private, usually after he'd had a few glasses of something and a few puffs or snuffs of something else to numb his mind. And he'd allow himself a single moment to think of you, wonder if he'd ever meet you, and wondered if you'd ever actually exist. In those few fleeting moments he believed in soulmates, but then he'd snap out of it and wake up the woman in bed next to him to distract him for another hour or so.

Ben's eyes flick to his right wrist covered by the gray and maroon tracksuit, his brow furrowing together. He was trying not to think about you or rather the possibility of you today. He didn't have time for that, not when all he wanted was to make his old team pay for everything they did to him.

But there was a little whisper of something in his ear, a small wisp of hope that he had finally made it to you, the one thing he didn’t think would ever happen, that he lived long enough to be alive the same year you were, and that you were out there somewhere waiting for him.

No. Ben tenses. I'm not going to think about her, not when those butt fucks need to be dealt with. I'm going to go to Legend's and then I'm going to-

He didn't see you in front of him until it was too late to move out of the way. Your body hits his full on in the chest, sending the bagel between your lips tumbling into the street, but Ben barely feels the hit, what he does feel is the dam he built forever ago burst open and warmth soaks into his body. Electricity skitters along his skin, crackling in the air as his eyes lock with yours only for a second. He feels like he's caught fire, as if the pieces of himself deep down inside are overheating and vibrating until there's nothing left, but you and him.

Any thoughts he had of his team and revenge are lost in the flood of emotions that fill the hole inside he tried so hard to ignore with the lie he continued to tell himself: “I don't believe in soulmates.”

And yet, there you were.

He can hear his heart and yours beating together as one, his own pounding so hard under his ribcage as if it wishes to break free and cross the space between your bodies. Seeing you for the first time feels like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp jolt backwards when it lands and the pinch of flesh against Kevlar. It was worth the bruise if looking at you was the same way each time.

Ben can feel the world slipping away, going silent, and in that silence Ben is lost in you.

Holy Fuck.

You were the perfect amalgamation of every single beautiful woman that Ben had ever seen and fantasized about in his entire life. And yet you weren't what he was expecting. Over the years Ben had bedded many women, the ones who captured his attention for a night, but none of them were anything like you.

In all the ways those women were bold and dramatic you were confident, but not boisterous, beautiful but not haughty, respectful but not prude, and there was a kindness reflected in the warmth of your eyes that Ben had never seen before, but there it was staring back at him unblinkingly.

You reminded him of the women that came arm in arm with men to his parents lavish parties when he was a boy, the ones who were classically beautiful and reserved with the golden dates on their wrists catching in the light. The exact kind of woman he hadn’t seen for the better part of eighty years and the opposite of the women who had thrown themselves at his feet forty years ago.

Your hair falls forward into your face from the force of your body hitting his and Ben itches to push it back, to touch you, to feel his skin against yours to quench the burning that he can feel in his soul.

All of his instincts are telling him to pull you against him, that you're too far away even though you're standing only inches apart. That he needs to breathe the same air and feel the warmth of your skin against his rough fingertips.

The birthmark on his right wrist sears his skin and he knows what it means, that you're the woman he's been looking for his whole life, the woman that always seemed just out of his grasp, the woman that was made just for him, and the woman he thought would never exist.

He watches your eyes widen with the same realization about him behind your round glasses, eyes that are the perfect color and eyes that Ben can imagine staring in to every day for the rest of his life. He'd never wanted to spend more than one night with a woman, never wanted more, but all of that fades into you.

The idea of a soulmate no longer seems ridiculous, no longer seems like something he’d never have, not when he’s looking into your eyes and nothing else seems to matter.

Not when looking at you is like seeing the sun sink into the earth at the end of the day and feeling the hope that it'll rise the next morning.

The lie he told himself for so long is slipping away the longer he stares at you, because although he never wanted to want anyone he knows that he needs you. It's an odd feeling for him. He's never once cared about anyone, told himself that it was weak to, that having a soulmate was a stupid idea and not for him, but all of the things he ever thought about soulmates is evaporating in the heat that is consuming his body by being in your presence.

Why now?

The thought makes the world come back into sharper focus.

I've lived decades without her and now the moment I come back to the U.S I just run into her?

It was laughable .

The moment of clarity allows the fantasies of his revenge to come creeping in and Ben feels the anger and rage ebbing on the edge of the wonderful feeling building in his chest when he looks at you.

You weren't a supe. Ben could tell that just by looking at you. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone so soft and yet someone that he wanted to possess so badly that it almost hurt to stand inches away from you.

I don't want her to be apart of this.

The thought is immediate, stirring some primal urge within to protect what's his. Because you were his. You were the missing piece that he pretended not to need and the woman who always seemed to slip into his mind when he was alone and all was quiet,.

The thoughts of what he's about to do to his teammates come surging up and he didn't want you involved in any of that. Not when he knew that he needed to protect you, that he'd drag you along, and you'd see all the ugly parts of him and see the horror of what he was about to do.

He didn't want that for you, he didn’t want the first time that he met you to be like this, him looking like he'd crawled out from under a rock and full of so much anger, rage, and frustration it felt like he was going to explode, him having a new uncontrollable power that meant he might hurt you, and him being unable to give you his full attention when all he could think about was the team that stabbed him in the back.

What he was, was selfish, he knew that about himself.

But I won't be this selfish.

Ben had made many mistakes his life, he knew that, had done some things that he wasn't proud of, but you wouldn’t be one of them. He didn't want to put you in danger and realized that there was only one way to protect you, because after all, he was the only one who knew that you existed.

His eyes trace your face one more time, memorizing it before he does what he thinks is right. Ben turns away from you and forces himself to keep walking. Each cell in his body is screaming at him to turn around, to run back to you, but he can't. He doesn't want it to be like this and he knows that you deserve better.

I won't do this to her.

“Wait-“ He hears you shout over the sounds of the street.

The sound of your voice is a soothing melody, a warm soak in a hot bath, a steady hand against his back, and a salve over the gaping hole where a piece of him was missing for so long, the hole that he tried to ignore his whole life. He grits his teeth and continues to walk away from you, each step feeling like he's walking through tar the further he gets.

And deep down Ben is hoping that he did the right thing and makes a promise that he'll come back for you.

Present Day Ben POV

Why the fuck am I coming to this thing again?

Ben thought to himself standing outside the closed apartment door holding an expensive bottle of scotch. The same bottle of scotch that he was going to break open as soon as he crossed the threshold to get through this. He didn’t think that Hughie would appreciate it the way he would anyway.

Probably drinks those fucking fruity drinks with the umbrellas.

Ben didn’t understand why Hughie had invited him to this party or why Annie would let him invite Ben to it. Ben knew how much she hated him and the feeling was mutual.

Ben sighs as he stares at the door thinking about walking back to the elevator.

Invited was a strong word. Ben had overheard Hughie talking about it in the break room with MM and when Ben walked in, Hughie felt the need to fill the awkward silence by inviting Ben to the housewarming party.

Ben didn't know why anyone needed a housewarming party, but he chocked it up to another thing about the 21st century that he didn't quite understand.

He thought about all the people inside that he saw at work everyday, the ones that he tried to avoid all shoved in the apartment in front of him and groaned to himself.

Fuck, I should just go home.

Ben frowned at the thought of going back to his extravagant penthouse apartment downtown. The one that was two stories with a private balcony, six bedrooms, five bathrooms, a study, a media room, an exercise room, and overlooked Central Park with a view that would make anyone else salivate. His real estate agent had been surprised when Ben hadn't batted an eye at the price, but Ben didn't think about money the same way everyone else did.

He didn't have to, not with the money he'd earned over the years and not with the money his father, grandfather, and great grandfather in his accounts.

When he'd first bought the apartment he had been happy to get out from under Butcher's eye, who had a tendency to watch Ben like a hawk whenever he thought that Ben wasn't paying attention. But the apartment was large and cold, furnished with furniture that Ben had hired some twenty year old interior designer to buy, who charged him an outrageous amount of money to do absolutely nothing. She'd called it "minimalism," Ben called it "a fucking rip off."

Not one piece of furniture was comfortable to him and being there never felt like home. Then again, Ben didn't have a "home" to compare it to. His family mansion back in Philadelphia after his mother died had been cold and most of the rooms were closed off and the apartment he had in New York before he went to Russia was almost as big as his new one, but it never seemed like home. It always seemed like a way station, a place for Ben to entertain women for a short while before he went to a commercial shoot, a party, or on location for a film.

Even his cleaning lady and housekeeper would comment on the little things about his apartment that Ben tried to ignore. Honestly, Ben thought that she was fucking nosy, but she did her job well so he kept her on.

That and because he couldn't seem to remember her name no matter how many checks he wrote.

Ben didn’t like being in his apartment at all, but he knew that it wouldn't change if he moved. It wasn't where he lived that was the problem, it was that you weren't there with him.

It had been an entire year since he'd seen you and every day Ben walked the same path he had the day he met you for the first time hoping to run in to you. He didn’t have your name or your address or anything that he could have someone at work plug into a computer to find you. He'd tried to "google" you, but there was only so much he could do with the little information he had and he didn't understand how to find you other than the old fashioned way.

So he was back to sitting home alone every night trying his best not to notice how empty the apartment was, the one he bought that was more than big enough for two people. Sometimes he tried to stay out as long as he could to avoid going back to it, but each time he went through the front door it only emphasized how empty it was.

Ben's life was empty. He hadn't realized that before, but nowadays he was hyperaware of it. In the past he would have filled his life with women eager to warm his bed, but ever since he saw you Ben hadn't been able to think about anyone else.

Ben couldn't remember the last time he felt this frustrated and it only made everything harder for him. And as much as he tried to relieve the tension it never seemed like it was enough. He needed you.

And after he spent twelve months trying his best and he was tired of feeling restless he tried to pick up a woman in a bar.

Every cell in his body screamed wrong at the top of its lungs when he spoke to her, using lines that he'd perfected since he was a teenager. Ben knew he was good at that, but he fumbled the ball each time he opened his mouth. He tried to shake off the ghost of you, but when he spoke to the woman leaning against the aged wooden bar with a martini in her hand and wearing a dress that left little to the imagination, he got a flash in the corner of his eye of someone coming in through the door and he'd thought it was you.

He hadn't been expected to feel so ashamed, guilty, and embarrassed at the thought of you catching him with someone else. He'd been sleeping with women longer than you'd been alive and he'd never felt that way, but now that he knew you existed and knew there was a possibility of you running in to him, it was all different.

Ben's outlook on soulmates being "ridiculous" had evaporated on the spot the moment he locked eyes with you. He couldn't pretend that he didn't care anymore and couldn't pretend that you didn't exist.

How could he when you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen? How could he when a piece of him was with you? How could he when you were always on his mind?

He'd never had a woman have a hold on him so completely in his entire life, but you did.

She fucking does and I only saw her once.

It only made him feel worse. He wondered if he'd made the right decision when he turned his back on you.

Sometimes he liked to think back to the moment of when he first saw you when everything was quiet and he was sitting up in his bed staring down at the mark on his wrist that shone a brilliant gold. His mind would slip into those few moments of bliss and he would wonder what would have happened f he just said "fuck it" and didn't go after Payback, if he'd stopped and asked for your name, and allowed you to let him forget everything that happened in the past forty years so he could start his life with you.

Unfortunately, those moments were usually followed by the same self-deprecating thoughts that Ben had, the chauvinistic ones that he'd carried with him over the years, and the ones that his father had impressed on him from the moment he could walk and Ben couldn't seem to shake.

He'd berate himself about how it was stupid and pussy-like to pine over a woman.

Because that's what he was doing, he was pining over you and he didn't like it.

He didn't want to think of you as much as he did, but he couldn't help it. Now that Ben knew you existed he didn't want to miss out on another moment of your life.

Of course, he couldn't find you and that was the problem. Sometimes he wondered if you were looking for him as hard as he was looking for you, if you walked the same way each hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

The dreams didn't make it any better. He'd never heard of someone living the memories of their soulmate when they slept, but every night he was subjected to watching your life and it only made him want to find you more.

He'd never knew that someone could feel so lonely surrounded by people, never knew that someone could feel so out of place, and never knew that someone could be as sad as you were, but each time he relieved a memory of yours at night Ben could feel his heart twinge.

Ben watched the lonely birthdays you spent with a cupcake and a beer for him, saw the jeers of the people in your hometown and the pitying looks from your parents, felt your shoulders shake when you cried alone in your room and stared at the birthdate on your wrist, and he felt you losing hope as each year passed.

Ben didn't usually allow himself to feel emotion like that, but watching you go through it all hurt him more than anything those Russian fucks did to him. He wasn't used to that and he wasn't used to thinking about other people as much as he thought about you.

But something about him felt different after meeting you.

Ben had asked Legend about soulmates, specifically the dreams, but Legend had muttered something unintelligible under his breath and took another snort of cocaine from the mirror on the coffee table instead of answering. Their relationship had been a little awkward after Ben slept with Legend's soulmate forty years ago, but Legend didn’t seem to be too upset about it… anymore. Mostly because Legend's soulmate tried to pull a Lorena Bobbitt one night and Legend caught her before any permanent damage was done.

She was in prison, and Ben didn't understand why Legend still went to see her for conjugal visits, but he figured that she was as much of a freak as his old handler.

Just rip the bandaid off you fucking pussy.

Ben thought staring at the clean white door in front of him.

Truthfully, Ben was tired. He'd been running himself harder for the last month, throwing himself into his work because he was starting to believe that he was never going to meet you again, and it seemed like work was the only thing that could distract him long enough. But he couldn't escape sleep.

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had avoided sleeping the best way he could and he got through a few days before he collapsed. The first dream he'd had of you had come on suddenly, but clear as day.

You reading on your bed in your apartment smiling down at the pages as if it the book was telling you a secret.

Ben wasn't a reader, didn't see any merit in it if it wasn't a western or a war book. The most he could tolerate was Ernest Hemingway, but he could have sat there and watched you read forever. You looked so peaceful, content, and happy that Ben was afraid to interrupt you even though it was just a dream.

But whenever he thought about you dreaming his memories, something dark settled in the back of his mind, because what were you seeing? He'd done a few things he wasn't proud of and Ben didn't want you to think that he wasn't a hero or that he was a bad guy.

Ben sighs and raises his hand to knock hard against the door with his free hand, trying not to open the bottle preemptively before entering the apartment.

"Ben?" Hughie says it like a question when he opens the door, eyes wide with the same stupid look on his face that always grates on Ben.

Ben forces his signature tight lipped smile that he flashes around the office. "Hey there sport."

"Hey. Wow, you're here." Hughie clears his throat and looks over his shoulder as if he's nervous about something.

Ben raises an eyebrow. "I was invited."

"Well yes but-"

"But?"

"Um-"

"Spit it out dipstick."

Hughie clears his throat. "I didn't think you would come."

Fuck I should have stayed home. He doesn't want me here, neither does his fucking beard.

Ben frowns listening to where Annie groans under her breath further inside the apartment and talks low under her breath to someone that Ben can't see.

"Well surprise and congratulations or whatever." Ben rolls his eyes holding out the bottle of scotch. He was hesitant to lose sight of it, not when talking to Hughie for less than five minutes made him want to down the whole bottle.

"Oh wow this is really," Hughie's eyes widen as he takes in the label and realize how much money Ben spent on the bottle. "Expensive stuff, thanks Ben."

"It'll put some hair on your chest." Ben claps Hughie hard on the shoulder as he pushes past him into the foyer of the apartment.

The entire apartment could have fit in Ben's living room and kitchen. It was made in a similar fashion to his, sleek white walls, sterling silver appliances, large glass windows that let in the light-

Ben stops so suddenly inside the area that leads into the kitchen that Hughie plows into his back, but Ben doesn't feel it.

He can't move, can't breathe, because he's noticed the person talking to Annie is you. This was the last place that he'd expected you to be, but he doesn't care, because you're here and you're more beautiful than he remembers.

You're standing there pouring ice from a large bag into a pink acrylic bucket with an adorable amount of concentration for such a simple task wearing the same sweater you were the day he first saw you. You're also wearing a little more makeup and your hair is longer, and not pulled back into the messy bun as it was that day, but you’re still you and you’re here.

His fingers twitch with the urge to run his hands through the tangled tresses, to feel if they're as soft as he imagined for so long.

Ben's body swells with emotion, goosebumps flicker over his skin, and all other sounds in the room vanish, because seeing you was like watching the sun rise and feeling the world hold it's breath as it basks in the early morning rays.

And Ben wanted to bask in everything you were, every day for the rest of his life. Now that he found you again he wasn't going to let you out of his sight.

Your soul sings to him as he nears you, the cells in his body vibrating so fast that he can feel every single one begging him to touch you.

You turn into him by accident, sending the bag of ice tumbling to the floor, but feeling your body against his sends him into overdrive and he can't hold back anymore. He reaches out to grab your shoulder as gently as he can without hurting you.

Hurting you was the last thing he wanted to do. And because you weren’t a supe he knew how fragile you were.

You gasp under your breath at the contact from his hand, but to Ben it sounds thunderous in his ears. Ben trails his hand across your shoulder, up your neck, to cup your chin and raise your face to look at him. He feels like his whole body is igniting as he makes contact with your skin.

He can feel an odd vibration in his chest as he does so, energy crackling and pulsing around the two of you, but the rest of the room falls silent. He can’t look away from you, not when seeing you again is like staring too long at the sun and he's left with the imprint of your light and beauty on the inside of his eyelids.

Ben can't focus on anything else, doesn’t hear the awkward chatter, doesn't feel the discomfort he had upon his arrival, doesn't notice the way everyone has turned to stare at the two of you, and doesn't feel the air conditioning turn on and blow cool air against his warm freckled skin.

All he knows is you.

Your eyes are wide and he suspects his are as well, pupils blown but still beautiful and hypnotic as they were one year ago. Ben feels a smile pulling at his lips and he lets it go, because standing in front of you, feeling like this, it’s impossible to do much else.

Your skin is warm to the touch beneath the roughness of his fingertips and he touches you with a reverence that he has never graced anyone else with, because you were his. Every part of you was made for him just as every part of him was made for you.

The your soul was calling out to him, weaving a golden cord of energy in his mind that snagged in the center of his chest and made him feel whole for the first time in life.

You reach out to touch him, the soft palm of your hand falling just over his heart and it makes something inside him break open to flood the space between the two of you.

Hope stirs in his chest with your gentle touch and your unblinking gaze, warmth trailing from where your hand lays against his shirt. His eyes drop to the wrist to see his birthdate, a glowing ember against your skin where the sleeve of your sweater has fallen down an inch.

Your eyes lock with his once more, full lips slightly parted, and breathless.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." Ben murmurs, trailing his thumb across your cheek with a gentleness that he's never possessed.

Ben was not a gentle man, but for you he would try. He would be anything you wished him to be, for as long as he lived, because now that he found you, he was never going to let you go.

And he welcomed the challenge of anyone who tried to stand in his way.

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are not required, but are always welcome and appreciated! I really love hearing what y'all think. ❤️ If you'd liked to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know :)

Taglist:

@reidtomewinchester @livya99 @pascal-rascal424 @xaviersgifted @zepskies

@bagpussjocken @bitchykittenconnoisseur @kamisobsessed @goldenmaknaes @ophennie

@infinityonhighhhhh @modiddys-blog @globetrotter28 @roseblue373 @tulipsvanilla

@annoyingrebelsoul @soldiergrimes @megara0224 @zpandaqueen @ladykitana90

@corruptedcruiser @podiumackles @criminalyetminimal

@deangirl96 @kr804573 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn

@52ndstreeet @mrsjenniferwinchester @impala67stellawinchester

@bookchik26 @anna6307

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy #lovelyreaders

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truesymphony · 5 years ago

Photo

Happy birthday to the wonderful @improbatus-venandi! Love you Steph.

#mun has too much time on her hands ( mun edits )#walking sex appeal ( dean winchester )#snapshots ( gallery )#[ here is a dean thing for you ]#[ hope you love it ]

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nonasuch · 4 years ago

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as you may know, reading tumblr posts about Dean Winchester is an experience surprisingly akin to auditing classes on gender performance and masculinity at a graduate level media studies program. at least if you read enough of them.

which unfortunately I have! and now I have some thoughts.

see, there are character archetypes that crop up over and over again, and particularly often in 90s and 00s genre TV shows. I am vastly oversimplifying, but let’s boil them down to the Three Main Kinds Of Dudes you are most likely to see in these shows.

Let’s start with the Guy Who’s Not Cool, And Knows It. he’s all over the place: he’s Xander on Buffy, and later Wesley. he’s Julian Bashir, Rodney McKay, Seth Cohen and (at least early on) Alec Hardison. he’s usually not the main character, but he’s up there in the main credits.

and he’s textually, overtly anxious about his masculinity. this is something that other characters comment on, and sometimes he admits to it himself. his long-term character arc is — at least in part — about resolving that anxiety, confronting it and growing past it over time.

(he’s also, often, a self-insert for the guys in the writer’s room. but we don’t have time to unpack all of that.)

our second category is a bit more of a grab bag, because in some ways it covers all the guys who don’t fit into categories 1 or 3. but, broadly, we can call him the Guy Who Doesn’t Need To Make A Big Deal Out Of It. he’s the guy who comes across as quietly secure in his masculinity, who has nothing to prove on that front and whose story doesn’t need to be about proving it. Sometimes he functions as a foil for the Anxious Guy, sometimes he’s just quietly ticking along in the parts of the story that aren’t about Proving anybody’s Manliness. He’s Giles and Oz and Gunn, Eliot Spencer, Ronon Dex, Benjamin Sisko.

and then there’s the Cool Guy.

the Cool Guy is a main character, or he has top billing in an ensemble cast. the Cool Guy is a walking, talking grab-bag of heroic mannerisms. He’s tough and strong and he doesn’t talk about his feelings. he’s a ladykiller. he’s a flirt. he has the popular imagination version of Captain Kirk’s personality, and the popular imagination version of Han Solo’s sex appeal. he kills bad guys and drops a witty one-liner afterwards. he can fly a plane, or a spaceship, or drive a cool car or ride a motorcycle. he walks away from explosions without flinching. he’s not doing this ironically. he’s not performing. he’s just Cool.

as written, he has the depth of a cardboard standee.

but he’s played by an actor who’s, you know, a real human person, and wants his character to have some kind of interiority. so this weird alchemy happens, over and over again.

here’s the thing about that grab-bag of Cool Guy traits and mannerisms: there are real men, in real life, who do most of those things. and most of them probably aren’t overcompensating for anything! but also? none of them have the whole grab-bag. They have, like, two at most.

no one does all of them unless they’re doing them on purpose — unless they’re putting on a performance. but the Cool Guy as written isn’t performing. and the actor playing him has to embody that impossible character while giving him some kind of depth.

So what happens? Dean Winchester. John Sheppard. All the Cool Guys who are meant, textually, to be Effortlessly Performing Masculinity... and subtextually read as desperately overcompensating for their queerness.

whoops!

and somehow tv writer’s rooms keep doing this! they think that if they just pile on more Cool Guy traits, they’ll make the performance convincing, when they’re actually just undermining him more and more.

(sometimes the Cool Guy isn’t even meant to be heroic! the writers of Smallville tried, as far as I can tell, to make Lex Luthor come across as a suave, worldly, sophisticated ladykiller. what they got was a man who makes way-too-intense eye contact with a buff farm boy while suggestively drinking fancy bottled water.)

(also I didn’t watch Teen Wolf but I am given to understand that Derek falls in this category? and Stiles is for sure an archetypical Anxious Guy.)

the thing about the Anxious Guy is that because his anxious masculinity is textual, it can be addressed and resolved in the text. Because the Cool Guy is not textually performing, not textually anxious, he just has to keep on being that guy without the text ever acknowledging that there’s anything weird about it. and all the while the subtext is screaming that this! man! is! trying! too! hard!

and we as viewers with eyes in our heads can see that tension, between what’s said and what’s shown, and tbh most of the time the simplest and most obvious way to resolve it is to say “ah. okay. that man is Not Straight.”

so that’s why Dean Winchesters keep happening. thank u for coming to my ted talk.

#long post #meta #dean winchester #i think Eliot Spencer is the closest any TV show has ever gotten to a successful Cool Guy #but he lacks the internalized homophobia which is a key element of the Cool Guy #also speaking of thing we don’t have time to unpack right now:#did you notice that the Cool Guy is always white? and the Anxious Guy usually is too but not quite as universally #so yeah. also there’s that #media studies #the Cool Guy #the plato’s allegory of the cave version of the cw’s supernatural

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deanwithscissors · 3 years ago

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Cas-Appearing

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 989

Summary: Cas catches [Y/N] and Dean during intercourse

Warnings: Banter, cas being cas, sex, getting caught

A/N: i just found this piece on an old laptop i’m having to use. i’ve just re-written it this morning because it made me chuckle and i’m quickly posting it before work. this is the first time i’ve ever written cas as well lol *feedback is welcome, but be nice, not just to me, to everyone!*

Having a Winchester, specifically Dean, on top of her was not only becoming a nightly event but a whenever possible occurrence. The sexual tension kept climbing despite the pair getting their release, multiple times. No matter how much Dean gorged of [Y/N], or how much [Y/N] inhaled of Dean, it wasn’t enough. Desperation engulfed them and followed like a loyal dog that never strayed.

[Y/N] lapped Dean as he sat on the edge of the broken bed in the shabby motel room, her knees barely supported her as she bounced on Deans rock solid hard on. The room was small and dilapidated, in no way appealing but it didn’t matter, the motel was just a backdrop for their lust to consume them in fiery passion.

His hands were planted on her hips for extra support as he leaned back allowing his dick to push in deeper. She moaned and her head fell back as pure bliss escaped her mouth.

Dean wanted to stay in this moment forever, or at least make it last longer than ten minutes, but with Sam only popping to the store that’s all the time they had, so it’d have to be enough. For now.

“Fuck Dean, I’m close,” [Y/N] muttered breathless as the frayed rope threatened to tear in two. Her walls suffocated his dick in a terrifying death grip as she quivered in his arms.

Both fast approaching an explosive climax she clutched his shoulders and buried her face into his neck. With each thrust she was jolted with euphoria, edging her closer to the cliff and pulling him along too. Her thighs tensed and Dean rocked harder, he could no longer contain the volume of his own grunts of pleasure.

“Why are you hurting her Dean?”

Blown away with utter shock at the voice in the room, Dean lost all connection with his body, his firm embrace of [Y/N] vanished and she went tumbling to the floor in a stormy sea of red hair and pale limbs.

Cursing under his breath he instantly helped her onto the bed, wrapping her in the loose bedsheet and then gathering a sufficient amount of fabric around his crotch to keep their dignity intact.

In tandem both hunters turned to the decaying brown coloured sofa to see a well-suited, paired with a long tan trench coat angel denting the cushions. He leaned forward squinting while tilting his head.

“Cas what the hell?” Dean roared. “Were you watching us have sex?!”

“Is that what that was,” Cas replied with a raised eyebrow.

“How long were you there?” [Y/N] asked flabbergasted.

“A few minutes,” Cas replied in his monotone voice.

“Jesus Christ Cas! You don't watch people having sex!” Dean yelled throwing his hand in the air. “Well I mean, unless you’re watching porn, or y’know getting a little kinky,” he said grinning, his eyebrow cocked as he looked at the ceiling .

'Dean!' [Y/N] swatted his bare shoulder.

“Yeah right, Cas don't watch people having sex.” Dean tried to berate the angel.

“So do I watch or not?” Cas asked confused.

“If you walk in on someone you walk back out.” Dean told him.

“But I didn't walk in?” Cas questioned further.

“God dammit Cas if you don't leave right now I will use the angel blade on you.” Dean said, fists clenched and jaw taught.

“Cas just give us a minute, y’know to get dressed,” [Y/N] said.

“Why not just get changed? I've seen it all,” Cas replied.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” The beefy hunter flew off the bed, making sure to grab the heavy silver blade as he dashed towards Cas.

In the blink of an eye they were left naked and angel-less in the motel room. “Angel of the lord my ass, angel of bad fucking timing more like. I was so close!' Dean yelled as he threw the blade on Sams bed.

“It’s okay, c’mere let’s finish,” [Y/N] cooed him over with a bent finger.

A small grin flashed across Deans face as he descended on her like prey. Their tongues instantly tangled like a discarded necklace.

The familiar roaring of the Impala rocked the room.

“Fuck Sams back,” Dean hissed as he looked out the window.

“Go get in the bathroom, hurry,” she ordered while pushing him off her.

Leaving Dean to take care of himself she darted around the room fumbling into clothes and collapsed onto her stomach on the bed just as Sam walked through the door with a smile on his face, carrying a stuffed paper bag.

“Please tell me you have something stronger than beer in there?” She asked.

“I do. Whiskey,” Sam assured her.

“Good, give it here, I'll crack it open,” she said climbing off the bed as the bathroom door creaked open.

“Did someone say whiskey?” Dean asked.

“Are you guys alright?” Sam asked his brows furrowed as he eyed them wearily.

“Yup, good, fine,” Dean confirmed immediately as he took the whiskey from Sams hand, ripping off the top and swigging straight from the bottle. Without a word he pushed the bottle towards [Y/N] and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

[Y/N] took the bottle and repeated Deans actions.

"Are you guys really alright?” Sam asked clearly not convinced. He eyed the pair suspiciously.

“Yeah man y’know, just frustrated,” Dean admitted to his brother, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Both of you?” Sam quizzed.

[Y/N] silently nodded.

“Alright, whatever.” Sam said letting it go. “I uh seen a sign in the garden of the house across from Mr Peters and I was gonna check it out, see if anyone would talk about him, you guys coming?”

“Can you manage on your own?” Dean asked.

“I mean yeah,” Sam said.

“Cya later dude, we’ll be here chilling.”

“No we’ll be at the bar,” [Y/N] corrected.

“What she said,” Dean pointed at the short redhead.

“Fine whatever, I’ll do all the work, you guys do all the play,” Sam huffed as he left the motel room.

Dean instantly turned to [Y/N] and said, “now we can finish.” He was on her faster than a moth to a flame.

#dean winchester x reader #cas #light smut #fan fic #spn fan fic #dean winchester #banter

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truesymphony · 6 years ago

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@improbatus-venandi

Jensen being super adorable on Live With Kelly and Ryan [x]

#walking sex appeal ( dean winchester )#snapshots ( gallery )#[ so cute ]

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sofreddie · 4 years ago

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A Good Fit (Part 1 of 2)

Summary: Jensen really wants to land this role.

Characters: Jensen x Producer!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Implied Smut

Word Count: 1,496

A/N: There will be a part 2. This story came outta nowhere and I just had to write it down. Let me know what you think.

Jensen took a deep breath as he stood in front of the closed door, his hands clutching the script to the role of a lifetime - an upcoming show called Supernatural. He wanted this role, bad.

The only thing that stood between him and the role was the producer, Y/N Y/L/N.

She - yes, she - was the producer, the top of the food chain, the one that made and unmade careers.

Taking on an air of confidence that was mostly acting, Jensen knocked firmly on the door. Hearing a feminine voice call out to him, he opened the door, closing it behind him. He stood, script held tightly in his hands, and took several confident steps towards the stunning woman behind the desk.

"Ms. Y/L/N," Jensen stated, "I'm Jensen Ackles and I wanted a chance to talk to you about this role," he stated, more confidently than he felt. He gingerly set the script on her desk and patiently waited for her response.

She sat back in her chair, legs crossed, her expression unchanging as she just stared at him. He felt like he was coming unglued under her gaze. Finally, she looked away, clearing her throat as she sat forward and grabbed for the script. She barely gave it a glance before she tossed it back on the desk and casually leaned back in her chair.

"No."

"N-no?" Jensen repeated quietly in shock. He expected they'd at least have a professional conversation about it. I mean, there's a certain level of courtesy to these sorts of things. Usually.

"No," she repeated, "I don't think you're a good fit for this role," she shrugged, then sat back straight, returning her attention to her computer.

Jensen needed this role. And Y/N's clear dismissal of him just…pissed him off. But what could he do? Gaping like a fish and unsure what to say when she made him feel three-feet-tall, he reluctantly retrieved the script and left the office. There had to be some way to convince her.

He just knew he was perfect for this role.

Jensen sighed as he relaxed back onto the couch, accepting the ice-cold beer Jared handed to him.

"So, how'd the meeting go?" Jared asked with barely restrained excitement. He knew his friend was perfect for the role.

"She said no," Jensen breathed out, taking a healthy gulp of his beer.

"That's it?" Jared asked with a furrowed brow.

"That's literally it," Jensen nodded, "I walked in, introduced myself, said I wanted to talk about the role. She just stared at me all cold and said 'no'," he shrugged, but Jared knew he really, really wanted this role.

"I heard she'd gotten a bit brusque after her divorce a few months ago, but I didn't realize she was letting it affect her work. That's so unlike her," Jared said, suddenly concerned. He had known and worked with Y/N a lot over his blossoming career, which is why he encouraged Jensen to talk to her, to begin with.

"Probably needs to get laid," Jensen scoffed with a roll of his eyes. He wasn't usually so callous, but he was seriously pissed.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in Jared's head and he flashed a grin at his friend.

"So…show her you're made for the role," he suggesting, grinning lewdly and wiggling his brows for emphasis. Jensen huffed a laugh, shaking his head at the obvious nonsense, "I'm serious," Jared elaborated, "You're right, she probably does need to get laid. And Dean Winchester is a ladies' man. So…show her how Dean would handle the situation."

Jensen listened to his friend's words, letting them settle in his mind. He wasn't so sure about the 'getting laid' part. But he could definitely walk in there, in character, and introduce her to the real Dean Winchester.

Y/N rummaged through her handbag looking for her keys as she exited the office building. She began walking the familiar steps towards where she parked her car when she saw him.

Jensen Ackles - who had visited her a few days before - was leaning against the side of the building. He had one leg propped against the building, his back leaning against the wall casually. As soon as he spotted her, a bright and boyish grin split his face. It was almost blinding.

He had a swagger about him that wasn't there before. He exuded a confidence that made him seem even bigger and broader than before - and he was no small man, to begin with.

Her eyes trailed over his attire. It was as if he'd walked out of a concept sketch: boots, jeans fitting just right, black t-shirt with an open button-down, and a worn leather jacket. As she met his eyes once more, she couldn't help clenching her thighs.

"I thought I told you that you weren't a fit for the role," Y/N managed to find her voice, surprised at its strength. When she first met Jensen, she thought he was too pretty, too heartthrob for the role of the rugged bad-boy Dean Winchester. Jensen was still handsome as ever, but now he looked rougher around the edges, more worn and world-weary in a way. Yet that bright, child-like innocence still sparkled in his eyes with a hint of mischief.

"If you give me the chance," he spoke for the first time, deepening his voice for the character, leaning into her personal space enough to be flirtatious without being pushy, "I'll show you just how good I fit," he smirked, before licking his lower lip into his mouth and biting down.

His confidence grew as he watched her, first entranced by his eyes, then staring at his mouth. Her breathing picked up a little. She had to admit, he was suddenly oozing all the confidence and sex appeal the character called for.

"You really think you're a good fit?" she purred, trailing a finger down the front of his shirt before giving him a challenging smirk, "Prove it, Dean."

"Dean doesn't work that way, Sweetheart," he leaned in teasingly, seeing that he had her hooked, neediness flickering in her eyes, "You don't get me until I get the job," he breathed out, his lips hovering over hers teasingly.

"Who says I'm convinced you're the man for the job? There's plenty of others," she tried to sound confident, but her words were breathy despite herself. It had been so long since someone made her feel this way.

"Sweetheart, there ain't no other men like me," he growled lightly, his hands wrapping around her lower back and tugging her up against him. He was worried that maybe he was pushing a little too far - getting a little too into his role - but the desperate whine she let out when he pressed her body against his let him otherwise.

"Jensen-"

"Say it," he interrupted her, his lips hovering millimeters from her skin as he ghostly trailed along her jaw and neck, his breath panting against her skin.

"Come up to the office," she breathed out, "We'll sign the contract," she offered, looking into his mesmerizing eyes, "I-I'm convinced," she swallowed hard, pulling from his grasp, "Y-you're Dean."

He smirked, staring at her lips before flickering back to her eyes, "After you," he grinned, stepping aside and gesturing for her to lead the way. She took a deep breath, gathering her bearings, before standing tall and striding back into her office.

She was all too aware of his eyes on her as she walked through the lobby of the building, and as they rode silently up in the elevator - an obvious tension building. As she heard her office door click shut behind her, she grew tense, not knowing what to expect.

Clearly, he was flirting with her before. But that was for the role. To convince her he was Dean Winchester. Well…it worked. She was most definitely convinced. She felt a little better having confidence in the fact that soon, millions of women would most likely be squirming, just like her.

His eyes remained trained on her as she readied the contract, passing it over for him to review. The minutes seemed to stretch on forever, the silence deafening.

"You know," she said as he signed the contract and passed it back to her with a winning grin, "You don't have to - I don't expect -" she sighed, shaking her head.

Jensen was surprised. She was this confident, intimidating, powerful woman. But at that moment, she was a stunningly gorgeous woman who was clearly affected by his routine. Feeling a little bold, and letting Dean guide him, Jensen stepped around the desk, slowly so she could anticipate his approach. When he reached her, he gently pulled her to her feet.

Her eyes were locked on his, wondering what he was going to do. He smiled kindly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"That's a shame," he breathed out, "I was hoping I could show you how good a fit I am," he smirked devilishly.

PART 2

Forevers:

@winchesterprincessbride

@iamcmims

@roxyspearing

@reigningqueenofwords

@mogaruke

@ellen-reincarnated1967

@speakinvain

@atc74

@sterekloveaffairs

@mrs-meghan-winchester

@chook007

@growningupgeek

@goldenolaf25

@esoltis280

@hobby27

@sis-tafics

@arryn-nyxx

@x-waywardaf-x

@shann-the-artist-moon

@sandlee44

@lucywinchester2000

@emoryhemsworth

@time-travel-bouqet

@buckysbrat

@calaofnoldor

@spnbaby-67

@miraclesoflove

@lyarr24

#a good fit #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #reader insert #spn #spn rpf #supernatural #rpf #part 1 of 2

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jawritter · 4 years ago

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The Art Of Letting Go

Summary: You though you were searching for Demon!Dean to help Sammy cure his brother. When you do find him, Dean shows you just exactly what you’ve been looking for.

Created for: @spndarkbingo

Square Field: Dub Con

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Smut, fingering, Demon!Dean (yes, he has his own warning), slight angst, dub con, language, spn level violence, I think that’s it...

A/N: This fic was beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks hun! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my MASTERLIST! Still want more? BECOME A PATREON, and get exclusive fics and make request!!

People are affected by things differently. No one processes trauma the same way. Some people close up completely. They refuse to talk about what they’ve been through, and shut themselves off to everyone around them. Some people chose therapy. They choose a professional stranger as a way to vent, or get it off their chest. Some people get violent and want to seek revenge for whatever happened to them, whether that be to a person, group of people, or just the universe in general.

You’ve seen it all. This life, it had very few secrets left for people in your line of work. You’ve seen them cry, kill themselves, go bat shit crazy and murder everyone they were ever attached too. You’ve seen them lock themselves in the house and refuse to come outside again.

You often wondered what had happened to that girl. She was such a good hunter. She had finally come across the one thing she couldn’t handle mentally. You were pretty sure it would happen to you one day as well.

In all the things you’ve seen, in all the horrors you’ve experienced, in all the shit you’ve hunted, you’ve never seen anything that held a candle to Dean Winchester. He once was a damn good hunter, a friend, but had now turned demon. You know it was the mark that had turned him, and what it was doing to him that made him who he was today, but to say he was handling the trauma from his past life as a human to now swimmingly was bullshit. He literally took all the trauma he’d been through in his life, channeled the anger, took on the fucking mark of Cain and died and became a demon. You didn’t give a shit what Sam said. Dean had done it on purpose.

At least he was creative?

You and Dean had never been very close, but in all fairness, Dean was only ever close to a handful full of people. You? Hell, you were just another hunter. Not someone he was ever attached too. Not that he had time to even really get to know you anyway. You grew up in one of the many hunting compounds, and you joined about a month before Dean became the beast you were currently hunting.

You had always idolized Dean in a way. You had heard all the stories over the years growing up, and you always wanted to work with him, meet him. Now? Fuck, now you were hunting the very man you swore that one day, you’d work along side him to save the world. Funny how that shit turned out.

Sam swore he could cure Dean. You remain unconvinced. Either way, the problem at the moment was finding the bastard. Years of hunting when he was human made Dean damn near impossible to find, and you were pretty sure he was leaving the pair of you a trail of breadcrumbs that literally had you going around in circles.

“What, Sam?” You growled in the phone that wouldn’t stop ringing on the seat next to you. It had been ringing almost non-stop for the past thirty minutes, and you didn’t know how to tell him that you still hadn’t found his brother, and were pretty sure you were never going to find him.

“Y/N, listen, I just got some video footage from a convenience store about 30 minutes north of where you are right now. Dean was seen there.He beat a man to death with a skin mag. Can you check the local bars and strip clubs, see if you can find him?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, thankful that Sam was unable to see it. This was a first. Dean in his demon form, decided to beat the poor ass hole to death with a fucking porn magazine. He had a knife that was very capable to do the job for him, but this just proved there may be more of the old Dean still in here than you wanted to admit out loud. It took all the self control you had left in you not to burst into hysterical laughter, or ask Sam to send you the footage so you can laugh, and not be judged for it later.

“I’ll check it out Sam, but I’m starting to think we’re not going to see Dean again in person unless he wants to be found.”

The resounding silence on the other end was hard to read. You couldn’t tell if you were actually getting through to him with reason alone, or if he was just as done as you were looking for Dean.

“Just… Just try, okay?” Sam pleaded, and you could literally hear the fucking puppy dog eyes in his voice through the phone, damn him.

“Okay, there’s a bar about five miles from me. I’ll start there and If I find anything I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks Y/N, I really couldn’t do this without you,” he says, letting go the breath he was obviously holding.

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it Winchester,” you tell him before hanging up on him. He’d said enough for tonight, and a few strip joints and bars were all you were willing to do before finding a place to crash for a while. Dean may be a demon, but you were still human and needed at least another four hours before continuing this wild goose chase.

You couldn’t deny as you pulled up in front of the old dive bar, that it was just the kind of place the Dean you know would have chosen to hang out in. You could hear the crappy country music blaring even outside in the parking lot, and there were plenty of blondes walking around in cut off shorts to choses from, adding a nice Backwoods appeal to the place that would have drawn the elder Winchester in like flies to horseshit.

Human Dean was predictable, and you missed that. The only question that remained was just how much of the man was still inside the monster.

As soon as your boots hit the gravel outside your car, a cold chill shot down your spine, throwing your hunter instincts into high gear. You didn’t haven’t even have time to grab your angel blade before your body was pinned to the outside of your Mustang with enough force to knock the wind out of you. The smell of sulfur assaulted your senses, and a scent you knew all too well… Dean.

You could feel the cold steal of the first blade pressing into the thin fabric of your flannel, and you shivered involuntarily at the hot breath that smelled of beer, sulfur, and spearmint gum fanning over your face, Dean’s strong calloused hand had a tight grip around your throat, while the other held your hands behind your back as if you were nothing more than a blowup doll. No form of shaking, kicking, or moving at all seemed to be able to break his inhuman hold.

“You know sweetheart, you and my little brother are getting on my last fucking nerve. I told you both to let me go, and what do you do? You chase me across the country like a fucking bitch in heat, all at the request of Sammy.”

You swallow around the lump that was in your throat as best you could with Dean’s hand holding your neck, tight enough to leave a bruise. You knew he’d been leaving a trail for you, you weren’t an idiot, but you didn’t expect him to be so… well, Dean. You expected a stupid demon, like the hundreds you’d sent back to hell before him. Boy, were you wrong.

“Then why don’t you just fucking kill me, Dean?” You asked him, knowing that if he wanted you dead you’d already would be, especially if he knew you were tailing him. “If I’m that much of a fucking pest, why didn’t you just handle it three states back?”

An inhuman growl sounded close to your ear, and you felt his solid chest vibrate on your back, his hand tighten around your neck, cutting off most of your air supply.

You could feel your body responding to his administration, even though you knew it was wrong. The sheer, raw power that seemed to be pouring from his grip on your hand had slick gathering in your underwear and there wasn’t shit you could do about it.

“Why should I do you that favor hun, Y/N, when you and I could have so much fun together.”

Dean’s hot breath fanned over the shell of your ear, closely followed by his teeth, sending a shiver of disgust down your spine, and to your horror, more arousal pooling between your legs.

“Fuck off, Dean,” you gritted back at him, determined to fight against this senseless attraction to the very thing you were trained to hunt and kill from birth.

This is wrong, this is wrong…

No matter how much you repeated it to yourself, the fast growing bulge in Dean’s jeans against your ass had your cunt squeezing around nothing, begging the fucking demon to fill you up, stretch you in a way you’d only fantasised about. Knowing the human Dean was packing, and a god of man that seemed to drip sex on bowed legs? What woman with a pulse wouldn’t think about it?

“See, your lips are saying fuck off, but that little pussy of yours? Well, it’s saying come to Daddy.”

Dean’s hot tongue licked from the shell of your ear to your jawline, and you had to bite down hard on your lip to stifle the moan that was right on the edge of your lips. His hand that had been holding your throat slipped down your body, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping into your panties with ease, wasting no time in slipping two thick digits into your soaking folds, toying with your entrance.

A deep chuckle ripped through his throat when he felt just how wet you were, and damn it if his fingers didn’t already have you on the edge of oblivion as they slipped into your cunt, pumping and curling slowly. You fought against the overwhelming urge to grind down against his hand to get the friction you needed from him.

This is wrong, this is wrong…

“Look at you,” the demon said, grinding his full denim covered erection against your ass as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, hitting your G-spot with terrifying precision. “So fucking wet and needy. How many times have imagined these dirty little fingers of yours were mine, baby? How many times have you cum moaning my name, like your doing right now? Better keep it down or you're going to get us caught, and you won't get to cum.”

You hadn’t realized all the noise you’d been making until he’d pointed it out, but here you were, all but saying his name like a prayer as your legs began to shake, the coil in your stomach winding painfully tight.

“Dean, please,” you begged him, unsure if you wanted him to stop, because you knew this was so fucking wrong. You didn’t fuck demons, this wasn’t you, but be fucked if it didn’t feel so fucking good. Dean was playing your body like a fiddle, and you were helplessly grinding down on his hands as he increased the speed of his fingers.

“Please what, Y/N?” he said, chuckling as you did all you could not to fall over the edge he had you teetering on. “It’s all you sweetheart, all you gotta do is let go.”

You shook your head no as he laughed again, sinking his teeth into your pulse point hard enough to make you almost cum right there, but you refused to do it, you just couldn’t do it.

This is wrong, this is WRONG!

“You know what your problem is Y/N? You are always SO FUCKING TENSE! All the fucking time. You walk around like you got this big stick up your ass, and a chip on your shoulder. I did the same for a long fucking time, but you know what baby girl, I’m gonna do you a favor. I’m gonna teach you the art of letting go, and we’re gonna start right here in this parking lot. Now, cum.”

Dean added his thumb against your throbbing clit, and as if on command from some invisible force, you came hard enough to blur your vision. The coil in your stomach snapped as your pussy clenched around his thick digits, your juices running down his hand and soaking your panties further. He worked you through your release until your body fell lax against the car, and your breath came out in short pants as you tried to stand on shaking legs.

“Hope you're not too tired yet bitch, that was just lesson one.” Dean said, turning you around to meet cole black eyes, and a smirk carved by the devil himself.

You knew this was wrong, but there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to get away from him now, so you might as well sit back and learn how to let go and enjoy the ride.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @hearteyes-j2 @miss-nerd95

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emisanemu · 4 years ago

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Crashing to the surface.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Rating: R

Word count: Roughly 2000

Warning: All smut, plot is barley visible, language/curse words, sexy Dean Winchester

To say you were nervous would be an understatement. You were practically panicking. Tonight was the night, after knowing the Winchesters for about five years, you were going to make it happen. It being a spark with Dean, well, you hoped it would be more of a fire.

You two often would tip toe around the line of what was friendship and what was a relationship. Shy glances when you thought Sam and Cas weren't looking, dirty thoughts you kept until the night, but the seal had never been broken. You were both still beneath the surface of the water on the verge of drowning beneath the tension.

Tonight, you hoped to forget the line, to come crashing to the surface in a blaze of entangled limbs, to put it bluntly, you are going to fuck Dean Winchester.

You had a plan. You set candles up around the room, lights dimmed, bought a black silk nightie and a matching red lace pair of panties and bralette. The way the ensemble fit your curves was almost sickening and could make any man drop to his knees to please you. You sat on your bed which fave the door to your room, legs spread open on the bed, hand between your legs teasing you from outside of your panties.

You picked up your phone and sent Dean a simple message, "My room, SOS." You knew you'd regret working him up for a fight but the message was already sent and you knew he was bouncing from what ever corner of the bunker he had shoved himself in.

Not even two minutes later he came stumbling through the door, gun in one hand, angel blade in the other. "What's wrong, are you oka-" His words feel short, his eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. His best friend sprawled out along a bed, legs open, lingerie on as you teased yourself. So many thoughts went through his mind, but the one most prominent was shock.

"So is the emergency that we have a witch that put some sort of sex whammy on you, or..."

You giggled lowly at Dean's, sitting up so you were perched on your knees on the bed. Hands running up and down your plump thighs. You started unbuttoning the nightie as you spoke,

"How about you close the door and find out Dean."

The words fell from your mouth like dripping hot honey. A smirk found its way onto Dean's face finally realizing he had been set up. He set the gun and blade on your dresser, closing the door with his booted foot, before looking up at you again. This time, you were only in your lace panties, bra and nightie thrown somewhere in the room, bare breasts fully on display for him, you felt so exposed but you loved it. Dean walked forward slowly, undoing the buckle of his belt as he made his way toward the waiting bed.

"You don't have to tell me twice doll."

The looks on his face had you clenching your thighs together, a light pool of slick filling your panties. Dean is the definition of sex appeal, there is no denying it, in every way he makes you melt.

"You look so fuckable sweetheart, so ready for me."

At this point Dean was standing by the end of the bed, brown leather belt in his hands. Your breath practically caught in your throat as he snapped the belt to attention, the cracking sound flowing through the air and straight to your aching entrance. He smirked reaching out his hand grabbing your neck, right below your chin and pulling you roughly towards him.

"So dirty and sweet, getting all caught up thinking about my belt."

He emphasized his words by dragging the cracked leather belt up your bare plump thighs. It scratched pleasantly against your skin as its way up to your aching pussy. He rubbed the belt roughly against the outside of your panties causing your hips to buck forward. He yanked your face up at your movements crushing his chapped lips roughly against your glossed one. His stubble was rough against your face, his grip on your chin tightening, smushing your lips closer to his.

You jumped as you heard the belt that was once in your hand hit the floor giving him a moment to push his tongue into your mouth. Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head as his tongue moves through your mouth. His tongue had the distinct taste of whiskey and peppermint. A taste that you loved immediately.

Your plump lips sucked at his, a thin line of combined drool running down your chin collecting at the top of your breasts. Your teeth nipped at his bottom lip pulling it roughly. His hand came up your neck tangling in the back of your hair yanking it roughly. You were gasping, barely able to catch your breath, you'd cum through your panties if this didn't move along.

Dean was brought back to the reality surrounding the two of you when you slowly slid your warm delicate hand up his chiseled torso. All your momentum was lost as he shoved you down onto the back, you landed hard on your back, tits jumping up a bit as you landed.

"You've got me so hungry sweetheart, can't wait to get a taste."

He said his large calloused hands up the insides of your thighs causing you to clench them shut on instinct. His face changed with the movement, lips quirked, green eyes darkening. He grabbed your thighs roughly, he pulled you towards him causing a surprised gasp to leave you mouth.

"These stay open, or you make yourself cum on my thigh, understood."

His voice was deep and gravely, he showed no signs of exaggeration. You nodded you head at a loss for words, swallowing the lump which had formed in your throat. A smirk finding its way onto Dean's face. He reached forward with no hesitation, he cupped your pussy mound, it was astounding the amount of wetness that leaked on to his hand. It only fueled him more, the desire to destroy you. He grabbed your legs by your thighs and pushed them up to your stomach.

"You are going to hold your legs, I want to watch you shake while I devour you, drop them and I shove my cock down your throat."

With no second thought you grasped you plump thighs holding them in place. The smirk Dean wore had never left his face until now, his expression changed to determination. Your head popped up when you heard a tearing noise, he had torn your lace panties from your body, he licked his lips as he stared down at tithe body, throwing the now shredded fabric behind him. He wasted no time, lowering himself down to your heat, he breathed in deeply, you smelled of lust. He couldn't control himself as he stuck two fingers between your lips collecting your slick.

He brought his hand to his mouth sucking and lapping at those two fingers, sucking up your juices like a man starved. You taste so sweet to him, Dean had never tasted something as good as you. Nothing could ever top how you tasted. Dean was done teasing, done waiting. He brought his face down, nosing at your clit as he lapped between your soaking wet folds. Your waiting hole clenched around nothing as your vice grip on your thighs tightened. Dean's barely there scruff felt rough against your pussy. Quiet moans and whimpers slipped from your lips as your head fell to the side as it suddenly felt heavy.

Dean was crazed, mouth going at a pace he didn't think was possible, tongue fucking in and out of your entrance, fingers rolling your clit as he would bring his mouth up to suck the ball of nerves between his lips. You felt a familiar coil form in your stomach as your legs began to shake in your hands. Dean brought a free hand up sliding his fingers against your calve enjoying how you trembled. He pulled away his face shining with your slick.

"You wait and cum on my cock like a good girl."

You whimpered, half from the loss of his delicious mouth, and from the way the words fell from him mouth like hot wax. You watched as he sat up on his knees taking his time to fully undress, flexing every muscle as he did so. His arms were such a turn on for you, strong, tan, and ready to pin your hands behind your back and bend you over.

Almost as if he could read your thoughts he smirked just as he pulled his boxers down revealing his hard upright cock. He was girthy, his head an angry red colour, slight veins running up the underside, the length was even more impressive as it stuck up almost against his stomach. He was glorious, had to body of an adonis and you could not wait to feel his weight on you, his hard member plunging in and out of you. You finally dropped your legs as he crawled on the bed towards you. An unreadable look on his fave, somewhere between lust and what looks like pure affection. He later in between your legs gently rubbing your thighs up and down.

"Get ready for a ride baby."

He slowly positioned his head at your entrance, pushing in as you both took a deep breath. The surface of the water had been breaking, you guys had come crashing to the top gasping for hair with the sun in your eyes and soaking wet. It felt so right as he bottomed out within you, you fit together so well, so made for each other. He gripped your hips rightly snapping his hips forward, pelvis nearly slamming against yours. Your scratched your nail down his back and your bodies moved in sync, lips messily moving against each other.

This moments was perfect, no wrong moves to be made. Body against body molded together on perfect harmony, even when his movements began to falter, hips stuttering everytime his cock plunged inside of you.

"Cum for me sweetheart, please, need to feel you drip down my cock."

His words tipped you over the edge, you bit down on his shoulder, feet clamped around his hips and you came hard. Slick leaking out and down your thighs. The clenching of your fluttering pussy lips was enough to set him off. Dean saw stars as he came, you name falling from his lips and he buried his face in between your breasts.

Heavy breathing filled the room as you came down from your highs, holding each other tighter then ever. This was perfection, everything in the moment felt right. You and Dean were perfect.

@forgetthisbull Here is what you requested, good you like it.

@melannie77 Here is something to read while I get yours typed up.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean x reader pwp #dean x reader smut #supernatural requests #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #supernatrual oneshots #dean winchester x plus size reader

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years ago

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3x06: Red Sky at Morning

Then:

Sam wasted a bullet on brodepency

Now:

A woman jogs along a lonely marina at night. She stops for a drink of water and sees an old timey ship flicker into existence and then disappear. It’s a little weird so she runs home.

While taking a slightly male-gaze shower, a shadow lurks in the background. A hand then appears on the outside of the shower. She pops her head out to look around her HUGE bathroom only to find nothing. Too late! The noise was coming from inside the shower stall. She’s attacked and strangled.

Sam and Dean are on the road. Sam’s getting a lecture from his big bro about using the Colt on the crossroads demon. It didn’t get Dean out of the deal, but Sam had to try.

And jumping right into the case without exposition or anything, we find the brothers interviewing the aunt of the victim, Sheila. She’s 100% pervy towards Sam, but HAHAHA, amirite? She found her drowned in her own shower. She asks if they’re “working with Alex?” And Dean agrees right away. The aunt also mentions the mysterious boat (did Sheila call her aunt on her run home? When did she have time to do this?) “Do you think it could be a… ghost ship?”

Yes. Yes, it is.

She then touches Sam unnecessarily and GURR.

Later, Sam and Dean discuss the case and the fact that ghost ships have been seen in this town every 37 years --and with it dryland drownings.

So they’ve got to find what boat appears to people before they die.

They head back to where the Impala was parked, to not find it where they left it. Dean freaks out and has a panic attack. UGH. I have that feeling when I forget what lane I parked in at Target so BBY DEAN I HEAR YOU AND SEE YOU.

Bella appears and tells them she had it towed. So kind. Sam guesses right away that she’s the “Alex” that the aunt mentioned. She tells them to back off, and wanders away.

A dude, getting ready for bed, finds his tub filling with gross, green water. He turns off the faucet and stares into the black water for a second before a hand reaches out of the depths and strangles him.

Later, we find Bella interviewing the brother of the deceased. Sam and Dean interrupt and tell her to stop bothering the grieving man. They ask about the ship his brother saw, and the man describes it and admits that he saw it too.

Bella shows up again to further antagonize the brothers.

Later that night, the brothers watch the grieving brother box up his brother’s stuff. And I haven’t watched this episode enough to see the parallels before, but there they are! The guy sees them watching him and gets upset, realizing they’re not cops. He insults Dean’s car and tells them to stay away from him. He tries driving away but then his car dies. A drowned rat of a ghost shows up in his car. Before Sam and Dean (and their shotguns) can get there, the guy drowns.

Later, while driving, Dean tells Sam, “You can’t save everybody, Sam.” (And, HAHA, certainly not his brother is who destined to die because what’s the fucking point of rebar anyway?)

Bella, once again, finds the brothers. They’re laying low in an abandoned house researching shipwrecks. She knows what ship they’re seeing before they die. It turns out the ghost was a traitorous sailor that was hanged on this ship, but not before his hand was cut off and made into a hand of glory. They need to find that hand, and Bella knows where it is.

We’re next treated to a little Dean objectification when he walks down the stairs in a tux. He hates it, but Bella is impressed. I can’t help it. Dean’s a cutie here.

For We’re Going to Objectify Him Anyway Science:

They arrive at the soiree accompanied by a swanning musical score. Sam wriggles away from his handsy Gross Old Lady ™ companion to complain about his decoy duties. Dean and Bela show no inclination to give him any reprieve and slink off to pull their heist. Every door is guarded by an off duty cop, so Bela swoons in Dean’s arms.

He explains that she’s imbibed a little too much. A guard escorts them upstairs to a secluded den and leaves them to “recover.” Bela casually insults Dean’s intelligence yet again and then sends him off to complete the heist.

Sam continues to experience non-consensual touching by Grabby Gertie. UGH SAM we’re so sorry.

Dean, meanwhile, cracks a safe - a scene which I find HIGHLY APPEALING. While he’s hard at work, Bela deflects the guard from discovering that Dean’s missing from the room by pretending to have a romantic interlude. Dean’s return is comically timed, and the guard leaves happy thinking he’s just witnessed a cuckolded husband and clandestine affair. I guess whatever floats your boat?

Dean brandishes the hand of glory at Bela and they prepare to leave the party. Downstairs, Sam is DRENCHED in discomfort, but Grabby Gertie contributes something at last to the case. She reveals that the two dead brothers were rumored to have killed their ultra-rich father. And her niece had been involved in a fatal car accident as a teen where her cousin died.

Dean and Sam head off in the Impala, only to discover that Bela once again pulled a fast one on them. She replaced the hand with a model ship in a bottle, which she stole while she was waiting for Dean in the den.

Elsewhere, Bela fondles her money in a convertible until she sees DUN DUN DUN a ghost ship in the distance.

In their room, Dean rants about Bela’s theft to an unsympathetic Sam, only to have Bela pound on their door. The ship’s after her now and she already sold the hand to someone across the ocean. As one does.

Sam drops more case details: the captain of the ghost ship was the brother of the hanged sailor. “Very Cain and Abel,” Sam notes while I grind my teeth. The targets of the hauntings: people who have spilled their family’s blood. Dean taunts Bela while she sits in haunted turmoil. Dean, babe.

Sam and Dean insist that Bela reveal her dark emotional secrets to them before they’ll help her which is some real trash behavior. Sam finally relents, and tells them there may be one thing they can do to save her.

In a darkened cemetery, Sam lights candles around a pentagram.

It starts to pour. Sam starts an incantation which reads “Azael, Castiel…” and I’m about to lose my goddamned mind. Sam continues to invoke the arrival of his brother’s husband in the following season like he doesn’t have any clue about Dean’s epic love arc with the angel Castiel.

The ghost appears, flings Dean across the cemetery, and starts to drown Bela. Sam frantically reads and as he finishes the incantation, the ghost’s brother appears. The captain apologizes for killing his “own brother” and I chew my own arm off.

The two ghosts...cancel each other out, or something? Thanks for the symbolism, Chuck.

The next day, Bela tosses some cash at the Winchesters as a thank you. “Ponying up ten grand is easier for you than a simple thank you? You’re so damaged,” Dean says. Bela calls Dean on his bullshit projection.

Dean decides to take the money Bela gave them to go on a holiday to Atlantic City. (Amara, is that you?) Dean assures Sam that he’ll be fine once he’s dead. “You’re stronger than me,” Dean tells him. I shriek at levels so high it’s practically undetectable.

“I’m a big boy now. I can take care of myself,” Sam retorts (not helping his case, let’s be honest). He tells Dean that the important thing is to SAVE DEAN. He wants Dean to care that he’s dying!

Dean stares at the road with the eyes of a drowning man, slipping helplessly under the water. “I think I’ll play craps,” he decides while Sam gives his best grouchface to the passing streetlights.

Shipping Quotes:

“How do you sleep at night?” “On silk sheets, rolling naked in money”

You know when this is over, we should really have angry sex

Don’t objectify me

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 3x06 #red sky at morning #supernatural season 3

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truesymphony · 7 years ago

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Important people tag dump; updated

#a real ray of sunshine ( visage )#america's sweetheart ( steve rogers )#the real sugar daddy ( tony stark )#hawkguy ( clint barton )#mad scientist ( bruce banner )#the big guy ( hulk )#goldie locks ( thor )#he's adopted ( loki )#bloody ballerina ( natasha romanoff )#voice of reason ( charles xavier )#he never shuts up ( wade wilson )#ms perfect ( jean grey )#walking sex appeal ( dean winchester )#he's so tall and handsome as hell ( sam winchester )#too much heart ( castiel )#sinning is winning ( crowley )#the good son ( michael )#cutie with a sweet tooth ( gabriel )#absentee father ( chuck/god )#tall dark and deadly ( james 'bucky' barnes )#lionhearted ( grubitsch 'grubbs' grady )#sympathy for the devil ( lucifer )#littlest avenger ( peter parker )#earthshaker ( lance alvers )#bubba ( carlos mendez )#the good witch ( allison maki )#the sunglasses don't make him cool ( scott summers )#moon maiden ( luna roth )#fly guy ( sam wilson )#grumpy magician ( stephen strange )

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cestlestial-beings · 4 years ago

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Desire

Summary: Sam finds a prostitute that can shapeshift to take Dean's form. Loosely based on @wincestdailyheadcanons‘s Headcanon #32 Part of my Unrequited Wincest series

Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Sam Winchester, Original Shapeshifter Character, Dean Winchester Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester Word Count: 2000 AO3: Link

Excerpt:

Sam rests a hand on Dean’s chest, curls his hand into a fist around the soft fabric of Dean’s shirt, searches Dean’s eyes. Not Dean’s eyes, he thinks but he pushes away the thought. They’re enough like Dean’s eyes. The same emerald green. The same depth. The same softness, as they focus on Sam. He takes a deep breath to lose himself to this again, and finally his head’s cleared enough to think this is real, for a moment.

It’s just Dean in front of him now, familiar but still so beautiful that he takes Sam’s breath away.

Full Fic:

It had taken a while to find this person. He’d heard a rumor, and it took a lot of asking around to get the details he needed. And it had taken longer to find a hunt close enough for Sam to be able to make an excuse about going to see a girl so he could meet up with them late at night, without raising Dean’s suspicion.

Sam meets her at a nice hotel with a king-size bed and slightly dimmed, romantic lighting—her choice.

She’s wearing a black dress and knee-high black boots, her curly hair loose around her shoulders. Classy, yet suggestive. The two of them sit on the room’s crisp, white couch to work out terms.

“So,” she says after she finishes counting the cash he gave her. “Who will it be?”

Sam pulls a photo out of his wallet. Dean, grinning at the camera, his green eyes sparkling. And something of Dean’s, too, like she’d asked for over the phone—a small amulet Sam had dug out from Dean’s bag. Sam passes them to the woman.

“Hm. And how do you want me to play it? Sweet and romantic? Rough? Kinky?”

Sam swallows. This is so fucked up. Why is he doing this? He considers standing up and walking out, right now, but he knows he’ll regret it if he does. This is a rare opportunity. “Romantic, I guess,” he finally says. “But we can play it by ear.”

“Sure,” she says. She stands up and grabs the small suitcase she’d brought along. “I’ll be just a moment.” She disappears into the bathroom and he hears the shower turn on.

Sam bounces his leg while he waits, feeling nervous. His desperation is pathetic, but this past year of working with Dean… Sam’s not sure he can take it much longer. He had to do something.

Finally the shower shuts off. A minute later the bathroom door opens, and Dean steps out. Black t-shirt, jeans, bare feet. His hair is slightly damp and untextured from his shower. Dean smiles at him, a soft, warm smile that makes Sam’s breath catch. “Hey, little brother.”

“Hey,” Sam says softly, standing up. He approaches Dean. He doesn’t have to hold back this time, he thinks, he can do what he wants to—needs to—do.

He’d thought about a moment like this a thousand times. What would he say, when he confessed to Dean? What would he do? How would Dean react?

He rests a hand on Dean’s chest, curls his hand into a fist around the soft fabric of Dean’s shirt, searches Dean’s eyes. Not Dean’s eyes, he thinks but he pushes away the thought. They’re enough like Dean’s eyes. The same emerald green. The same depth. The same softness, as they focus on Sam. He takes a deep breath to lose himself to this again, and finally his head’s cleared enough to think this is real, for a moment.

It’s just Dean in front of him now, familiar but still so beautiful that he takes Sam’s breath away.

“Dean…” He feels tears prickle at the back of his eyes as he finally, finally says what he’s been holding back for so long. “I’m in love with you. So, so in love with you. God. I want you so much.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth turns up. “Come on, man. Don’t get all sappy on me.”

Sam pulls him in and kisses him, the way he’s wanted to for years, desperate and hungry and hard. Dean matches the intensity, sliding his tongue against Sam’s lips, pushing into Sam’s mouth, claiming him. His lips are soft against Sam’s, his taste minty, and Sam’s surprised that up close he even smells like Dean. Let that go, Sam tells himself. He needs to get caught up in this, or it won’t be worth it.

Dean unbuttons Sam’s flannel while they kiss, pushes it off his shoulders.

Dean pulls away, his lips still close to Sam’s. “Sammy. Bed. Now.”

Sam laughs softly. “Sure.” Bossy big brother taking the lead. It’s reassuring.

Sam climbs onto the bed and lies back. Dean crawls over him, resting his hands on either side of Sam’s head and bending down to kiss Sam again.

Dean pulls away and sits back for a moment.“Come on,” he murmurs. “I want to see you.”

Sam pulls off his t-shirt, climbs out of his pants and boxers, tosses all of it over the side of the bed. Dean looks him over. “Beautiful,” he whispers, running a hand down Sam’s chest. “I’ve been missing out, huh?” he says, cracking a smile, and Sam’s heart flutters.

“You have me now,” Sam says.

“Yeah, I do,” Dean says.

“I want to see you too,” Sam says, but he takes the lead this time, pulling off Dean’s shirt, unbuttoning Dean’s pants. Dean finishes undressing in front of Sam and, as Sam looks at him, it’s suddenly hard to breath. Does every part of this Dean look like the real deal? No—don’t think about that. This isn’t like Dean, this is Dean.

Dean bends down, slides a tongue up Sam’s abdomen, up to his nipple. He swirls his tongue around it and Sam gasps. Dean’s hand finds Sam’s dick. He jerks it slowly, his grip soft and just light enough that Sam shivers.

“You like that?” Dean says, his voice low.

“Yes,” Sam says.

Dean runs his tongue up a little further, sucks on Sam’s skin by his collarbone. Dean strokes a thumb around the tip, and Sam stifles a moan. “It’s okay, baby brother,” Dean says. “You can let it out.”

His hand runs down Sam’s cock, and this time Sam lets himself moan “Dean” as his hands grasp helplessly at Dean’s back while Dean pleasures him, kisses him, marks him.

Dean pauses to look at Sam through his eyelashes.

“Do you want to be inside me, Sammy?” Dean asks, and then bites his lip, already pink and tender from the kissing.

Sam pauses. He’s thought about this, the first time, for so, so long and he knows exactly what he wants. But he’s always wondered what Dean would prefer, if this situation ever happened. How is the real Dean in bed? Would he want to top or bottom? Would he act like the shifter is now?

Don’t think about that, Sam tells himself, and out loud he whispers, “Yes.”

Dean smiles and reaches over to a small bag on the nightstand, pulls out a condom and some lube. He leans back to straddle Sam’s legs and keeps his eyes fixed on Sam’s while he opens the condom, unrolls it down over Sam’s length.

Sam licks his lips. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been this turned on before. All the times he’s fantasized, actualized in front of him now. The long lashes over Dean’s fiery eyes, filled with lust. His smooth chest, his soft stomach. His impish grin as he squirts some lube into his hand, rubs it onto Sam’s dick.

Sam can’t stand it anymore. He rolls them both over so Dean is underneath him, looking up at him.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Control freak.”

“You like it,” Sam says, and he’s kissing Dean again before Dean can dispute it. He slips one finger into Dean, two, to open him up.

Dean breaks away for a moment. “Quit teasing,” he murmurs. “Come on. Fuck me.”

“You want me that bad, huh?”

“Always have,” Dean says, and Sam feels a thrill go through him before he remembers but he doesn’t.

“Something wrong, Sammy?” Dean asks, a hand coming up to stroke Sam’s cheek.

“Huh? Oh. No, sorry. I was just… Thinking.”

“Well, don’t,” Dean says. He smiles softly at Sam. “Relax, okay? Let it go. Whatever you’re thinking about.”

“Okay,” Sam says, and he’s only able to offer up a wavering smile. He pulls back just enough to line himself up with Dean’s hole. Dean tilts his hips to make it easier for Sam, and Sam slides in.

Dean lets out a long exhale, his fingers digging into the back of Sam’s thighs, pulling him closer. Dean is warm and tight and as Sam starts to rock into Dean, he looks down at his brother’s face. Dean’s eyes are squeezed shut, his head pressed back into the pillow, his mouth wet and open as he breathes hard.

Sam feels an unexpected pang of jealousy. Dozens of girls got to see Dean like this, hot and worked up and turned on and so, so beautiful, and Sam never had, never would, see Dean—the real Dean—like that, even though Sam had been with Dean his entire life and those girls had only been in it for a night.

Sam only notices that he’s stopped moving completely when he feels Dean run a hand down his cheek. “Hey. Be here,” he says. “Be with me.” His voice is soft, and Sam closes his eyes at the words, at the feel of Dean’s warm fingers on his face, and Dean’s words work, a little bit. Sam feels like he’s a little bit outside of himself while he starts to move against Dean again, like this is a little unreal, but he manages to clear his mind enough to lose himself in the pleasure, the bliss of having Dean beneath him, kissing him, listening to him moan out Sam’s name when he comes. Hearing his name on Dean’s lips pushes Sam over the edge too, and he comes a second later.

Sam pulls out and lies down next to Dean, the only sound in the room coming from both of them breathing hard.

Sam rolls onto his side to look at Dean. Coming down from his orgasm-high, it feels even more clear that this Dean isn’t Dean, that this sex didn’t mean anything, that in a few hours, things would go back to how they were—Sam hiding his feelings from Dean, because he wants something from Dean that Dean could never give.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Sam asks softly. It still doesn’t feel right, but spending the night wrapped in the arms of not-Dean sounds so much more appealing than spending the night in the same room as but still distant from the real Dean, sleeplessly staring at the ceiling and feeling guilty and alone.

“Yeah, baby,” Dean says. He gives Sam a light kiss. “Me and the room are yours until morning. We can go again, if you want.” The words of an escort to a john, not from a man to his lover.

Still, Sam says, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

———

Sam lets himself back into the motel room the next morning. He’s still in yesterday’s clothes, but he’s cleaned up and looking like his normal self. He wishes he felt like his normal self, too, not filled with this guilt and shame from spending half the night and a good part of the morning fucking a shifter that looked like his brother.

Dean is up and showered and dressed and drinking coffee.

“Ha, I know that look. The walk of shame,” Dean says to Sam. “How was she?”

“Don’t be gross, Dean,” Sam says, as he walks to his bag to get a fresh change of clothes, but the real disgust he’s feeling is with himself. He can’t even bring himself to look at Dean—this Dean, the real Dean.

“I’m just glad you’re getting yourself out there again,” Dean says. “It’s been a long time for you, man. I worry about you sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, turning away to hide the look on his face. If Dean knew why it had been so long, he’d have something else to say. “Yeah, I worry about me sometimes, too.”

#wincest #fic #wincest fic #unrequited wincest #my writing #top!sam #pining!sam #guilty!sam

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sammysmaddy · 4 years ago

Text

Jealous (Sam x Reader)*

Summary: You've been on the road with the Winchesters for a while now. You're a bit flirtatious, a little too risky, but it's all fun and games until someone wants to take you up on your offer. What the brothers don't know is that you're all talk, you're still a virgin.

Characters: Frustrated!Sam x Virgin!Reader, OMC!Evan x Reader (briefly)

Rating: 18+

Tags and Warnings: Flirting, swearing, Embarrassed!Reader, loss of virginity, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, pls), p in v, semi-confused Sam idk lmfao, frustrated Sam, a bit of degrading (not really), flufffffyyyyyyy, fingering... that's about it, purely fluffy vanilla smut.

W/C: 6,100+

A/N: Something about one of the Winchesters going back in time and taking my virginity is very... appealing. Enjoy lovelies x. Not beta’d, not even sure what that means lmfao.

Masterlist

•••

You were a flirt. Not only that- you loved to admit it. You loved the power you held when you were confident and cocky, only to let down all of those men. You did it at every bar, even when you were hunting with the Winchesters. You flirted with anybody who would listen and most played the game back. It was satisfying to let them down every time.

You were different than Dean when it came to flirting and much different than Sam. Dean tended to pick the girls who seemed like they were up for a good time, taking home whatever he could get. Sam was smarter. Sam chose the girls that didn't throw themselves at him, but even if he did choose them he seemed to always let his feelings get in the way. As for you- you often found yourself across the bar from the Winchesters flirting it up with any man who bought you drinks. You weren't smart with it like Sam was, you weren't as carefree as Dean was, you were a load of trouble for anyone who took the bait.

You didn't mind being a let down to all of those men who looked at you like Dean looked at every girl. You loved seeing their faces when you turned them down. Even if it was simple. They would offer you a ride home, another drink, simple things like that and you knew when it was time to stop. You had a perfect method. Reeling them in, watching the lust in their eyes grow as you had simple conversations with them, and then cutting the line. You watched their lust grow into desperation, begging even, and it inflated your ego. But you knew. You knew that you could never give into just anyone. You weren't saving yourself for anyone special, and no one ever suspected that you were a virgin, but the truth is, you were just waiting for the right time. And it felt like it was never going to happen. You thought about lowering your walls, biting the bullet, then maybe you'd be able to do what Dean did. Your virginity wasn't sacred. You wanted to have meaningless sex with all of the men that you found attractive, you just could never bring yourself to do it. Plus, every time you were at the point where you thought maybe you could lose it, you would already be too deep in. You were cocky so it would be embarrassing for you to let them down like that. What if they didn't want you because you had no experience? Or worse? What if they only wanted you to ruin you, to take your virginity and run? You couldn't do it, no matter how badly you wanted to. You could do other things though. You would let their hands linger for too long on your thighs, let them kiss you, but you would never let them get far past that. You were scared. You hadn't done anything dirty other than flirting, touching, or kissing. You hadn't even let a man see you naked or seen a man naked.

You did the same with Dean. He was more cautious, of course, but he loved the chase nonetheless. You would work him up only to let him down, treating him like every other guy. You wouldn't let him kiss you or touch you like everyone else, you were scared that he'd treat you like every other girl. Or maybe that he'd make fun of your for being a virgin, but of course he didn't know that part. He just assumed that you weren't and so did Sam. He didn't understand, and maybe Sam didn't either but he definitely noticed. As for Sam, he didn't bother to try. He knew that you wouldn't give in to just anybody, but what he didn't know is that you had a weak spot for him. You were waiting for him to try anything and then you might actually give in. Sam saw that you didn't go home with anybody and he knew that within the few months that you had been hunting that you hadn't had any sex. And neither did he, but you knew that he wasn't a virgin. His alibi was Jess, a serious, committed, and long term relationship. As for you, you were a loner before you decided to hitch with the Winchesters. You never talked about your past, especially relationship wise because there just wasn't much to tell.

Things tonight were no different than any other night. Sam and Dean were sitting on the opposite side of the bar, drinking beer and watching pointless sports that they never paid attention to any other day. You had been on a hunt earlier, so going to the bar was a great wind down for all three of you. You took a shower, throwing on your most casual clothes. The black jeans hugged your curves perfectly and your loose, blue and satin camisole, more of a night shirt really, showed just enough cleavage to get anyone's attention. You covered yourself in a black jacket to help aide with the cold night and you did your makeup before you left. Then you found yourself in some hole-in-the-wall bar of Dean's choosing and found your next victim. A very handsome man, named Evan, that had light brown hair. He was fit, being a personal trainer was his career of choice, and you wondered if he were so healthy- then why was he at a bar? You didn't care much though, you weren't going to make it out of the doors with him so why did it matter. His blue eyes flickered at you and you could tell exactly what he wanted, and for the most part he was a jerk. But it was typical for you to find yourself with someone like him. Someone that only cared about himself and tended after his dick with random sluts. You didn't mind, you were going to rip him apart slowly by telling him no. As his ego deflated, yours would only grow and that was the point of the game.

"Can I get you another round?" The bartender asked and you shook your head 'no', sipping on your half-full drink of choice.

"She'll have another one," The personal trainer said and you rolled your eyes playfully, smirking at him. He flashed straight, white teeth back at you as the bartender went back to making you guys another round.

"So, what's your plan?" You raised an eyebrow at him and he looked at you with confusion- or at least that's how he tried to play it off.

"My plan?" He asked in return, chuckling lightly. You nodded your head, letting your eyes travel from his to his lips and back up- men seemed to love that, you had found through your several nights of training. "Take a pretty girl home with me."

"Guess you better find a pretty girl then. It's getting late," You smirked at him and he let out a cocky laugh.

"Already did," He replied simply and you shook your head at him. "You don't want me?" He asked playfully, resting his hand on your knee and snaking it up a few inches.

"Not really," You smiled cockily at him, but he didn't sense that you were actually being serious.

His hand continued to trail up your thigh and you let it until it rested lazily on your hip. You bit your lip and he watched carefully as he brought his face closer to yours until his lips landed on yours. You succeeded easily as you tasted the different alcohols swim around your mouth as his tongue easily dominated yours. His hand stayed steadily on your hip while his other hand reached up to grab your face, deepening the kiss. The human contact alone sent a wave through your core, but it wasn't unusual. You let a light moan escape your lips as you heard both of your mouths in sync and he smiled into the kiss.

"I haven't even touched you, babygirl," He said breathlessly into your mouth and you shut him up by taking control of the kiss. Your hands ran up his body, no doubt giving him chills along the way, and you ran your fingers through his soft hair. Your lips lapped over one another for a few seconds before you pulled back and he smiled at you. You smiled back, looking at your drink and downing it.

"I've got to go, Evan," You gave him a small smile and he slumped his face. You stood up from your chair, planning to leave him with something to think about, as you advanced towards him.

The front of your legs rested in the free space in between his as you towered over him and cupped his cheeks in between your small hands. His hands trailed up and down your body as you lowered your face on to his, bringing him into a deeper kiss than before. You pulled back before you could even begin to think about letting him take you home, patting his cheek lightly before turning around to grab your purse. You fished your wallet out of the small bag, leaving some cash to pay for your drinks and his on the bar counter top. You gave him a small smile when you turned around and began to head for the other end of the bar.

"Where are you going?" He asked as he lightly grabbed your wrist, making you turn back to face him. He stood up, this time towering over you and you lazily draped your hand on his chest.

"I told you. I have to go," You looked up at him, batting your eyes innocently as if you weren't just making out with him.

"Stay a while. I promise I can make you feel good," He said in a low voice, looking down into your eyes. His pupils were dilated with lust and you silently patted yourself on the back.

"I'm sure you can," You grinned and he smiled down back at you. "But I have to go," You smirked, watching his face fall flat. He let go of your wrist and you began making your way towards the Winchesters. You loved watching the look of seduction drained from his eyes as you walked away with your head held high. You reached where they were sitting at, taking a seat next to Dean and they both turned their heads towards you.

"Done for the night?" Dean asked you and you nodded your head. "Yeah, I'm still pretty tired from earlier," He agreed and Sam didn't say anything, he just looked back and forth between you and his brother. Dean looked past you at the man that you were flirting with and smirked, "Pretty fit. Sure you don't want to go home with him, sweetheart?"

"Maybe I want to go home with you," You smirked back and he laughed lowly. You looked to Sam and he didn't seemed bothered because at this point he was used to it. It was kind of disappointing though, some part of you wanted for him to be jealous.

"What do you say, Sammy? Ready to head out?" Dean asked, looking at his younger brother.

"Yeah, I guess," Sam muttered and Dean nodded his head. Normally, Sam would be itching to leave at this point.

He was the one who usually prompted for the night to end, but it was different. You noticed immediately that he wasn't in one of his normal- happy moods that he's usually in. Maybe he was upset, you thought to yourself. Dean paid out both of their tabs and the trio left, making their way back to the motel. It was a decent place for the price that it cost, so you were able to pull some strings and get your own room. Normally, Dean and Sam would insist that you save your money by staying with them but you paid for it behind their back.

"I'm not really tired," Sam said, sighing and putting his book bag on the floor. You watched him carefully, knowing that he was in a bad mood. "I'm going to stay up and read a little."

"Hope you can read in the dark 'cause I'm determined to get some actual sleep tonight," Dean said, plopping down onto his queen bed and you smiled at him.

"I'll see you guys in the morning?" You asked, and Dean hummed in approval while Sam shrugged his shoulders.

You gave him a small frown and found yourself out of their room, walking to yours next door. You stripped yourself of your bar clothes, keeping your shirt on and opting for some simple, black shorts and you lied in your bed, overanalyzing Sam's mood. It didn't feel good to be around him when he was upset because a part of you would get upset too. It was no different with Dean for the most part, but tonight it was extra unbearable. You could tell he was frustrated with something, whether it was the hunt or himself you couldn't tell. Sleep wasn't going to come easy for you and you knew that. Instead of fighting your wide-awake brain, you decided to feed it by reading some cheesy novel you picked up at a random coffee shop.

•••

It was an hour before you heard a knock on your door. You got up, cautiously looking through the peep hole before opening the door to see Sam standing there.

"I knew you'd be awake," He gave you a small smile before entering your room and you closed the door behind him. He walked a short distance before seating himself on your bed and you walked to the other side, crawling back to your cozy spot. You picked your book back up and began to skim the chapter, before Sam broke your concentration, "Why'd you get your own room if you weren't going to bring anyone home?" He asked, turning his body to look at you.

You frowned at his question, not exactly sure how to respond. "Oh, I don't know. I guess I just wanted some space of my own," You replied and his face stayed straight.

"I mean, this is your one chance, Y/N. You could have brought that douchebag here," He said and you felt guilty for loving the words that came out of his mouth.

"Are you upset because I didn't bring a guy home?" You asked, a small smirk plastered on your face.

"No," He scoffed immediately and you grinned widely at him. "It's just, if I had my own room I would bring someone along."

"No you wouldn't," You smiled and he rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," He muttered, still seemingly frustrated like he was earlier.

"Why are you upset, Sammy? Did you need the room to relieve some tension?" You asked jokingly but he didn't seem to find it funny.

"Don't talk like that," He said in a low voice and his eyes diverted to looking at the bed.

"Don't talk like what?" You asked innocently and he looked back up at you, an all too familiar look in his eyes.

"I'm not doing the flirty thing," He said bluntly and you frowned to yourself.

"I forget you're not Dean sometimes," You rolled your eyes, a little annoyed that Sam was being so negative.

"Okay," He huffed out, also seemingly annoyed with you.

"Okay," You nodded your head, reaching down and picking your book up again. Your fingers ran through the pages to your bookmark but when your eyes scanned down to read, you knew Sam was upset and you couldn't ignore him. "Sam, seriously. What's wrong?"

"Don't act like you care," He replied, his voice almost low enough to be a growl. You set the book on the nightstand and crossed your hands in your lap.

"Of course I care," You said to him and he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't like seeing you upset." You said in a small voice and he continued to stare at you.

"Whatever, Y/N," He huffed out and you frowned at his reaction.

"I'm being serious, Sam. If you need the room I'll just go sleep in the other one. You're having, um, problems and I don't know how to help." You tried to compromise, but the tension that radiated from him only seemed to grow.

"Problems?" He asked again with a frown on his face.

"Yeah, ultra aggressive Sam is not the Sam I like to be around," You shrugged your shoulders, deciding to tell the truth.

"I'm not trying to be that way. I'm just tired," He said, no apology following after.

"It's fine. I'm tired too and I don't want to argue, you know?" You asked, hoping to find a common ground.

"Yep, got it," He replied and the room went silent. Your eyes peered down again, trying to find where you left off, and you began to read. "You really didn't like him?" He asked not even ten seconds later. You raised your eyebrow at him and he shrugged his shoulders, seemingly carefree, but you knew that he was more than upset if he brought it up twice.

"He was alright, I guess," You said in a sigh, placing your book down once again.

"I mean, he was your type, so why not?" He asked, curiosity flooding his eyes.

"Sammy, why do you care so much?" You asked with a small smile and he slumped his face.

"I don't," He answered nonchalantly, liar.

"Obviously you do. You jealous I can pull and you can't? Maybe Dean can help you find someone." You offered for Dean, there was no way you were helping him yourself- you were far too jealous and you would get in the way.

"Why don't you help me instead?" He asked in a low voice, it almost seemed like more of a demand than a question.

"What?" You asked in return, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"You heard me," He muttered, his eyes staring back into yours, and it left you speechless.

"No, they're called wingmen for a reason," You frowned, trying your best not to blow your cover.

"That's not what I meant, Y/N," He said, turning his body fully towards you. "I mean, only if you want to." The tension snapped and was replaced with a new tension, sexual tension from Sam. You didn't reply, you just sat there shocked, so he continued to ramble, "It's gotta be frustrating not getting to come home with anybody and I just figured that maybe you could help me and I could help you and-" His words trailed off as you tried to wrap your mind around it. The entire conversation was like a fantasy to you, but you never thought it would actually become reality.

You looked down, not exactly sure how to respond. You dreamt of the day where this might happen, but you didn't actually prepare yourself for it. You felt the bed dip closer to where you were sat and you looked up when you saw Sam's hands pressed into the bed just beside either of your legs. Your eyes landed on his and you felt your heart beating through your chest. His eyes were needy and lustful and you probably looked like a scared doe as his lips collided with yours.

"You okay with this?" He asked reassuringly. Still, no words came out, but a nod up and down confirmed his answer.

His lips were soft and forceful as they raced with yours, like he was deprived of touch. It was aggressive and you hadn't ever felt that from Sam in this way before, but you didn't mind. You whimpered slightly when his teeth tugged on your bottom lip and he let out a devilish laugh as soon as he heard it. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up and you let him. You heard your shirt hit the floor as his lips began to attack yours again. His hand ran along your thigh and your abdomen and then it landed softly on your breast. It wasn't soft for long as he gave it a harsh squeeze before reaching behind you to undo your bra. The straps dangled on your arms and he quickly got rid of the left over fabric on your top half. He looked down for a split second, hungry like he's never done anything like this before, and then looked back at you as he began to attack your neck. His tongue lapped around certain spots, sucking harshly, as his mouth trailed all the way down to the middle of your chest. He held one of your breasts in his hand, tweaking the nipple in a satisfying way and an uncontrollable moan left your mouth. He didn't seem to care, and if he did it was even more motivated as he placed the other one between his lips. Your hand lazily ran its fingers through his hair, pushing slightly, so that he could give you the pleasure of sucking a little harder.

The pleasure faded quickly as your doubt came running across your mind. You couldn't help but think that Sam was treating you like everyone else did that you flirted with. He was needy, just like them, and he only seemed to care about himself. Panic set in as he continued to pamper your breasts and you shifted uncomfortably, whining slightly. "Wait, Sam," You said and he looked up to you, his eyes not shifting from their lustful state.

He gave you a small smirk before resting his forehead on yours, "What? You don't want me to treat you like the slut that you are?" He asked cockily and once again, you didn't know how to respond. He dove in for another kiss and you let your lips part for a second before closing them shut. Sam noticed immediately as he pulled back and looked into your eyes. The look in his began to transform into concern and he looked confused. "What's wrong?" He asked in a quiet voice, letting his hand rest on your cheek.

"I'm a virgin," You blurted out, not knowing how to put it any other way. You shut your eyes closed, scared for his reaction. Maybe he'd be how you thought Dean would react- maybe he would make fun of you for it.

"Is this some sort of role play?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows and smiling in disbelief. The look in his eyes returned as he leaned closer to your ear, "You trying to turn me on more, Y/N?" He whispered and it sent shivers down your spine. "I'm already hard enough, baby," He whispered, grabbing your hand. As soon as he placed it on his confined no doubt hard-on, you pulled your hand back. He looked at you with confusion and you stayed silent as his eyes peered into yours. "You're being serious?" He asked, realization flowing through his words. You nodded your head and his face turned pale. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I-I didn't know. I just figured 'cause-"

"It's okay, Sam," You said in a small voice, cutting him off because you didn't want him to explain further. His face backed off a little bit from yours, but he stayed hovered over you not really knowing what to do with himself.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have came onto you like that. I don't know what's gotten into me." Sam admitted, looking down.

"It's okay, Sam," You said, using your hand to lift his chin up to look at you. His lost expression intoxicated your mind as you leaned forward to kiss him, this time much softer than before.

"Are you sure?" He asked, pulling back and you gave him a small smile. "I don't want to take it away from you if you don't want me to."

"Sammy, I'm sure. I've been waiting for you to get jealous," You let out a small laugh and it was met with laughter of his own.

"Well, it worked Y/N," He smiled before placing his lips on yours. His lips were less hungry this time, less selfish, and you felt your worries melt away under his touch. He pulled back gently, leaving you wanting more, "Are you really sure?" He asked carefully and you nodded your head eagerly. "We'll take it slow, okay?" He asked and you continued to nod your head. Your hands reached out boldly, pulling his shirt up to reveal his toned abs. He smiled at you and began to help, pulling the shirt off and throwing it on the ground. "Can I?" He asked, holding the bottom of your shorts in between his thumb and index finger.

"Yes," You replied quietly and lifted your hips as he pulled the thin fabric, excruciatingly slow, down your legs. That too was thrown on the floor. He held onto your hips, looking down and admiring your body, and a blush rose onto your face. "Your turn," You said and his eyes snapped back to yours as you bit your lip nervously.

"Want to help?" He asked, sitting up on his knees.

"Uh, I-I don't know," You stammered, not exactly sure of what even to do. Well, you were sure, but you were worried that you would do it wrong. He smiled down at you and you immediately felt eased. You changed positions so that you were sat on your knees as your shaking fingers rose up to his jean button. He ran his fingers through your hair in approval and you undid the button, using your fingers to pull the zipper down. His hands reached down to help you as he pushed his jeans down his hips, kicking them off. Now, it was just you and Sam in your respective underwear.

He sat down next to you, back against the headboard and you looked at him, unsure of what the hell you were doing. "Come here," He said, motioning for you to straddle his hips and you nodded your head. You placed your knee on the other side of his body and slowly lowered yourself. A whimper escaped your lips as your clothed heat landed on his clothed erection. He smiled at you, pulling you into a kiss as he sensed your nervousness. You melted onto him, easing down as much as you could, and the both of you took your time. He kissed you tenderly, holding your face with his hands and you gripped onto his biceps. It was sweet and your lips moved perfectly in sync with one another before your core ached for movement. You moved your hips slowly, not sure of what you were doing but you figured it was good because Sam groaned into your mouth.

His hands trailed up your thigh before slowly dipping his fingers past your underwear. You moaned as his fingers smoothed back and forth between your lips, collecting the wetness that was gained over the past ten minutes. "You're so wet for me, princess," He pointed out the obvious and you blushed, gasping as his middle finger easily slid inside of you. "Does it hurt?" He asked, pulling back from the kiss and you shook your head 'no'. "How about now?" He asked, a hint of cockiness in his voice, as he slides his index finger in. You jumped a little bit at the new sensation, putting a smile on Sam's face, but it didn't hurt. You had put your own fingers in there before, not really thinking much of it, but Sam's were much larger- thicker and longer- so it was a different feeling. You moaned as he began to move his fingers in and out, curling slightly as he reached as far as he could. You had always heard that there was a g-spot in there somewhere but you never really found it before. Sam easily hit your sweet spot and you never knew how good it felt or else you would have done it yourself. His thumb reached up and began to rub your clit in circular motions. You tried your best to suppress your moans by crashing your lips onto his and he smiled, fully aware of the control he had over you.

Your breath was shaky as you felt the familiar pressure in your core begin to build. He pulled his head back, resting on the headboard, and he stared into your eyes as his fingers unrelentlessly attacked you. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders, barely able to contain yourself as you looked down. "Sam," You whimpered out and he used his other hand to tilt your head back up.

"Look at me, Y/N. I want to watch you when I make you cum," He said in a low and demanding voice and you had no choice but to nod your head eagerly. You looked into his eyes, trying your best to fight the feeling that Sam was giving to you, and he smiled at you. You didn't know why you were trying to fight it, but you were. His mouth parted slowly, licking his lips, as he watched your body began to shudder under his touch. You let out small moans of pleasure, still trying to fight, and Sam began to pick up his pace. You rested your forehead on his, your breath shaky, as you began to moan uncontrollably around his fingers. The feeling began to intensify and soon enough you found yourself cumming around his fingers, trying your best to be as quiet as possible. Sam hummed in approval, but he didn't stop. He kept going until you gripped onto his shoulders hard enough, whining, and then he pulled them out. "You're so beautiful Y/N," He whispered and you tried your best to control your breathing.

His hands rested on your hips before pulling the fabric down your thighs. You helped him and threw them to the side as your hands landed on his chest. He looked down at your soaking wet centre and eagerly reached in his underwear. You looked down with him as the fabric began to slowly leave down his thighs, watching as his member sprang up happily, slapping his abdomen. You gulped down, wondering how the hell that thing was supposed to fit inside of you, and you heard him laugh lightly. Your hand that rested against his chest was being moved by his as he placed it on his length. It was softer than you imagined and he groaned as you grasped onto it. You curiously swiped your thumb over the tip of it, collecting precum that had escaped, and he let out a low moan. "I don't know what I'm doing," You admitted, looking up at him with embarrassment.

"You're doing just fine, baby," He said, the confirmation making you ease immediately. He tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you into a kiss, and rested his hand on the small of your back. You let go of his member and before you knew it, he was on top of you. "Are you ready, Y/N?" He asked and you held onto his face, nodding your head and biting your lip. He reached above you, grabbing a pillow, and motioned for you to lift your hips. Placing the pillow at the bottom of your back, you relaxed down and raised an eyebrow. "It will feel better, trust me," He smiled, pecking your lips and you nodded your head. He looked down, grabbing his length in his hand, not needing to pump it because he was so eager, and he placed it in your folds.

Sam looked back up at you and planted his lips on to yours. You gasped as he slid inside of you slowly. The burn was nothing that you've ever felt before and it was painful, but you knew that it was going to be. He was taking his time, giving you time to adjust to every inch of him, and it felt like you were being stretched open. Your body wanted so badly to reject him and push him out, but you weren't going to give in or back off. He stopped for a second and looked down at you, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. "Are you all the way in yet?" You asked in a breathless voice, your eyes wide.

"Only halfway, sweetheart," He grunted, scrunching his face, and gave you a sympathetic smile as you nodded your head. You figured he was already fully inside because you could feel him intruding into your stomach, but you guessed you were wrong. He was nervous about hurting you and he wasn't exactly sure what to do, so he figured it was like ripping a bandaid off. Sam slid all the way into you at a much faster, but not too harsh, pace until you felt his skin on your clit. You whimpered and his body shuddered as he reached as deep as he could. He gasped for air, feeling how tight you were around him, and sat like that so that you could adjust. "Are you okay?" He asked, looking down at you.

"Move," You forced out and he looked down into your eyes cautiously. "Please, Sam," You whimpered and he nodded his head, slowly pulling himself out. He left the tip in and began to slide back into you, the burning feeling returning. He groaned loudly and you bit your lip to coerce your cries from leaving your lips.

"You're so fucking perfect, Y/N," He said, kissing you, as he began to move in and out of you at a slow pace. You tried your best to focus on the pleasure, feeling him hit your g-spot every time he thrusted, and soon enough the pain began to fade away. His hand snaked down your body, letting goose bumps rise, and his thumb landed on your clit as he began to move it methodically.

"Fuck, Sam," You moaned into his mouth and he hummed in return. He began to move a little faster and you began to feel less and less pain. He groaned into your mouth as you felt the infamous pressure in your core and you knew you weren't going to last much longer. The stimulation from his fingers and hitting your g-spot every other second was a lethal combination. Strings of moans and Sam's name escaped your mouth as the pressure became unbearable.

"Cum for me, Y/N," He pulled back from the kiss. You wanted desperately to force his lips onto yours again, but you knew that he would want to watch you come undone around him. You nodded your head and the smell of sex wafted into your nose as you began to moan uncontrollably. Sam looked so good above you, even the vein that popped out in his forehead, it made your orgasm come much faster than you expected. You felt the familiar snap inside of you and your legs began to shake as you moaned Sam's name loudly.

Just like earlier, he didn't stop, he kept going and he rode out your high as you felt yourself clench tightly around him. He brought his hand up from your clit and rested his weight on his elbows, burying his head in the crook of your neck. His movements became sloppy and erratic, but he didn't go faster to the point where it felt uncomfortable. He moaned your name as he pulled out one last time, slamming back into you, and you felt his dick twitch inside of you. Sam stayed inside of you as his lips went back to attacking yours in a soft, slow, and passionate kiss. The sweat on his forehead made his skin glisten and you smiled into the kiss, thinking about how perfect Sam was.

"Thank you," You whispered into his mouth and he smiled in return.

"Anytime, Y/N," He said, pulling his face up. He reached down and you felt him leave your core, making you feel almost empty. You both were dirty, sweating messes, but you didn't care. He lied down next to you, pulling the covers over him and you. You rested your cheek on his bicep and cuddled up close to him, your leg lazily draped over his. Sam stayed there the entire night and sleep came easily for the both of you.

#sam winchester #supernatural #fanfic #jared padalecki

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fairlyspnfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

The Secrets We Keep - Part 7 - Finale

Summary: You met the Winchester’s a little less than a year ago when they came to town for a case. You’d had one or two moments of, shall we say, closeness with the youngest Winchester, and more than your fair share of arguments, too. But this time may just be different.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, angst, all that fun stuff.

Words: 2,887

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

His relieved sigh as he breathed out my name pulled at me as I closed my eyes and attempted to clear my head, shake off my anger.

“Are you okay?” he asked, anxiety dripping from each word. I nodded before realizing he wouldn’t be able to see the action. My hair fell over my face as I all but whispered “Yeah.”

“You’re at Jules’?”

“Mhm.”

I could hear Dean murmuring in the background.

“Are you going to stay there?” Sam asked, desperately.

“She’s gonna bail again, Sammy.” Dean chastised him from the driver’s seat. A quick sigh forced its way out of my mouth as the rage emanating from his accusation dug at me. But I knew he had good reason to say what he did.

“I’ll be here.” I murmured as I attempted to hide my guilt, wrapping my free arm around my torso.

He was silent for a beat. Dean jumped at his opportunity to speak again. “If you’re gone when we get there Y/N, I’ll kick your ass myself.” His voice was loud, full of vitriol and bubbling over with rage. I pushed my eyes closed again.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sam.” I reassured him. “Please…” I begged. “Please get here.” The line disconnected and I set my phone down gently on the couch cushion next to me. I hung my head in my hands, wrapped my fingers around the back of my neck and attempted to massage the stress out of it.

All I could think about was Sam and what was going to transpire when he arrived. Would he wrap me in his arms and kiss me like he had in my fantasy? Would he go back to giving me the silent treatment, frosty and distant? Or could it be worse?

Dean’s words echoed in my head. I couldn’t blame him for his anger. I hadn’t just abandoned his brother but him as well. We had been close. He was the closest thing to a best friend that I had ever had. And I had left him as well. Wordlessly and without explanation.

I had no idea how much time had passed but suddenly, there were loud knocks on the front door. Jules hadn’t gotten back yet, so I pulled myself to my feet, “Coming,” I sang out as I walked over to the door and grabbed the handle.

I barely had the door cracked when Dean shoved it wide open, his eyes boring holes into me as he walked in and stomped past me. “Dean!” I called after him, but his angry stomping feet were already making their way upstairs. Sighing and turning back to the door, my eyes locked on Sam’s. His hands were in his pockets and his hair was disheveled. I’d never seen him looking so unkempt. “Hey,” I greeted him and waved my arm, welcoming him into the house. He hesitated but finally walked over the threshold and towards the couch.

“Sam, I-“

“You can’t do this shit.” His words were firm and non-negotiable. His steely eyes were locked on mine again and his brow was tightly creased, showing me his seriousness. He raked his fingers through his hair as he walked in a circle, beginning to pace.

“Do what?” My relief at his arrival was beginning to fade as I felt the signs of past arguments coming back to haunt us. “You mean hunting?” The incredulity in my voice was tangible.

“This!” He yelled. “Fuck, Y/N.” His pacing had slowed and his breathing seemed more labored as I watched his chest heaving in front of me.

“All of this. Running. Avoiding people. Leaving them behind... Leaving me behind” His tone went from enraged to hurt in a matter of words. I pushed my hair back behind my ears and swallowed hard, hoping to take my apprehension along with it.

“Sam,” I began explaining. “I’m sorry.” My eyes began to well with tears and I did everything I could to hold them at bay. “Running from you, all of it. It’s not what I wanted. I never meant to-“

“To leave me?” he asked accusatorily.

“Yeah.” I whispered back. “You’re what I want. You’re all I want. Damnit, Sam, I’ve been in love with you since the first time we met.” He began walking towards me, his hand outstretched as if he was about to wrap it tenderly around my arm. I quickly took a step back, blocking him from doing so. “But hunting? Saving people? I’m good at this.” My dedication and desperation were clear. “Don’t ask me to choose.”

Every part of me yearned for his touch. I wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his embrace and to lose myself in him. But we’d been down that particular road and it never ended well.

“If you’re out there,” he said pointing towards the door. “how am I supposed to keep you safe?” His eyes were glistening now, matching my own.

“You can’t,” I answered with a sad smile. He turned around in response, again running his hands through his hair, pulling on the ends as he did so. When he turned back to face me, his eyes were piercing. “The same way I don’t ever know if you’re safe.” The truth of my words seemed to get through to him as his mouth fell agape and he dropped his arms, defeated.

I shrugged and gave a sad chuckle. “This is where we always end up, isn’t it?” His lack of response affirmed my question. “Neither of us win. We both lose.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

“No.” He whispered so quietly that I half believed that I was hearing what I wanted to.

He was shaking his head now as he walked towards me, his steps deliberate and hastened. My mind had no time to process. His lips wound themselves with mine, dancing together as they always had. Firm and all encompassing. Taking my breath away. I kissed him in return, hungrily and desperate for more. I could feel his hand on the small of my back pulling me closer to him as his other palm cupped my face.

His tongue grazed my lower lip, begging for the entry that I was quick to grant him. I had missed the feel of his mouth on mine. The sensation of his tongue exploring my own. No dream could compare to this. I allowed myself to let go and relished myself in him.

“Sam,” I moaned as our lips parted all too quickly.

“I won’t lose this. I won’t lose you,” he demanded, crushing his mouth back onto mine. His arms were solidly wrapped around my waist as I cradled his face in my hands. His lips were demanding, drawing the resistance out of me like so much venom. Everything in me wanted to fall apart; to lose myself in him. Forget all the fights and issues that had brought us to this point.

Sam’s fingers were beginning to creep up my back, underneath my t-shirt as they caressed my skin, sending shockwaves through me at his touch. I broke our kiss, taking a deep breath and attempting to steady myself. He took the opportunity to lower his head, nuzzling himself into my neck as he placed tentative kisses and an ever so slight amount of suction to the sensitive divot just above my clavicle.

I groaned, relishing myself in the sensation of him. My breath hitched in my chest, my want for him overwhelming me. The grunt that came from his throat as he lifted me and wrapped my legs around himself sent goosebumps through me. I pawed at him, feeling the strain in his neck with every moan, and each flex of the muscles in his arms.

“Sam,” I panted, leaning my head back again.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” He asked, his eyes fixed on me with dilated pupils, full of lust and burning straight through to my core. My capacity for thinking was far from functional. I forcibly broke eye contact with him, taking a deep breath to steady myself as I pulled my legs from his hands and stood. “Wait,” I muttered, breathlessly. His arms relaxed as he started to back away and I could see the confusion on his face as his eyebrows creased. I placed my hands on his arms, pulling him back towards me.

“No, don’t. I just need a breath.” I sputtered. “Sam,” I began. “We can’t solve this with sex.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, but he didn’t back away. “I know.”

“Are you ever going to be okay with me hunting?”

“Probably not.”

“Are you going to stop me from hunting?” Ever so slowly, he shook his head. “No.”

I let out a breath of relief.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to be happy about it,” he said as he reached out, placing his fingers on my chin and tilting me ever so gently so that I was looking at him directly. “Doesn’t mean I won’t worry, and it doesn’t mean I won’t end up following you and pissing you off.”

A smile graced my face. “Oh yeah?” I goaded him.

He nodded, that devilish and desirable look in his eyes that made me weak.

“But I’ll make it up to you, too,” he whispered, bringing his lips to my ear and brushing my hair back with his adept fingers before placing a single chaste kiss against my neck, eliciting a soft whine from my lips.

“I think I can be amenable to that,” I answered him.

I watched as Sam walked over to the couch across the room from me. He wrapped his hand firmly around the handle of my duffle bag, lifting it from the floor and walking back towards me, all strength, determination and pure sex appeal.

My face must have displayed my confusion.

“We’re leaving,” he answered me with a sly smile; that dimple that I loved so much making an appearance. His free hand outreached towards me. I happily took it and allowed him to lead me to the front door.

“Your car or mine?” I asked him.

“You take my car; I’ll kill you both!” Dean’s voice rang down from upstairs earning chuckles from both of us.

“Mine then.” I reached into my pocket, pulling my car keys out and following Sam out the door.

“Good,” he answered. “I don’t think Dean would appreciate us doing the things I have planned in the impala.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, suspiciously. “And what is it that you have planned?” He reached out and pulled the car keys from my hand in response, pushing me lightly towards the passenger side.

“Get in,” he ordered, all confidence and commanding. I acquiesced.

His long frame folded itself until he was sitting in the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition and all too quickly backing out of the driveway. The open palm of his right hand laid in the space between us, and I scooted over, setting myself as close to him as possible within the constraints of the seatbelt.

He pointed the car towards home, looking over at me every few seconds as if he was convinced that I was about to disappear. “Can I help you?” I asked, jokingly.

His fingers snaked themselves out of mine as he maintained eye contact for longer than was probably safe as he cruised down the back country road. Eyes that were full of lust. His fingers found their way to my inner thigh, gently moving towards my center. Instinctively, I squeezed my knees closer together, undoubtedly warming Sam’s hand as I gasped. I felt his index finger rubbing against the zipper of my jeans, sending shockwaves through me and instantly diverting all thoughts I may have had to one central location.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowered my zipper, exposing my red and black boyshort panties to his hands. I tossed my head back on to the short headrest behind me as his digits massaged my entrance through the fabric. Fabric that now seemed to be far too thick for my liking. “Sam,” I panted out.

He unhurriedly pushed the fabric to one side and ever so proficiently began rubbing circles around my clit. Slow, torturous circles that succeeded in simultaneously making me wet and making me wish that we hadn’t left the house and the advantage of the bedroom upstairs.

His movements quickened and my breathing followed suit. He turned his hand over, quickly plunging his middle and ring finger into my entrance while keeping his thumb pressed firmly against my nub, rubbing in that same way. My panting had quickly turned to moans and my hand had reached over to his side, my fingers desperately grasping his knee as I searched for my release.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his eyes fixated on the road ahead of him. “Come for me.” His thumb worked me over while he continued to insert and remove his fingers from me repeatedly. I could feel my peek approaching. My breathing was ragged, and my back began to arch without my instruction. The cries and gasps coming from my mouth became shorter as I crested that wave, being overtaken by it as I found myself reaching my pinnacle of pleasure.

The car had stopped. As my breathing returned to normal and I could finally open my eyes to take in and process my surroundings, the engine turned off. Sam withdrew his hand from me and grabbed my arm. He pulled me towards him, pushing my jeans down off my hips and to the floor before throwing my legs over either side of him. “Fuck, Sam,” I muttered feeling how hard he was through his jeans.

Instinctively, I reached down, frantically unzipping his pants and freeing him from his boxers. His mouth was on my neck, kneading the sensitive skin with his lips and ever so slightly his teeth. “Look at me, Sam.” I ordered. He obliged instantly, locking his gaze with mine. Primal need had possessed us.

“You okay?” he asked, the same way he’d always asked for my consent before we ever went any further. I nodded instantly. “God yes,” I told him before pushing my lips to his own and lowering myself onto him. I could feel the glorious stretch within me as I became re-accustomed to the size of him. The feral grunt that pushed through his mouth as he hung his head back, closing his eyes shut, urged me on.

His large, rough hands wrapped around my waist, guiding me as I grinded myself against him. My hair was draped over his face, and our lips, still connected, grew hungrier and more demanding with each passing second.

I broke my lips apart from his, tossing my head back behind me as I allowed every part of me to relish in the heady rapture that was Sam. All of him. I increased my pace, finding the urge inside hungrier by the moment. “Slow down, baby,” his voice crooned at me as he grabbed my face, pulling me down to him. “I want to last,” he finished, before locking his lips to mine. I slowed the roll of my hips, going against the deep seeded ache in my core that longed for relief.

My hands snaked down his chest, feeling the definition of his muscles beneath his flannel shirt. My nails dug in slightly, eliciting a hiss from his lips. The sound drove me closer and closer to the edge. “Sam,” I moaned his name into his mouth, begging him. His hips that had been matching my pace slowed to an apparent stop. My desperation rocked me as I moaned. “I’m so close, Sam.” My words were rushed, a trace of panic laced in them.

I opened my eyes, locking my gaze to his and taking in the devilish smile that spread across his face. “Come on, baby,” he said. “I want to go all night long.”

I lowered my forehead to his and kissed him as I raked my nails down his abdomen before finding my hand lingering at our juncture. My fingers swirled up making rough contact with the extremely sensitive nub. I watched as Sam’s eyes flicked down, taking in my motions, his mouth hanging open. “Fuck,” he groaned as his hips resumed the punishing pace. He sped up, faster and faster, as we both barreled towards our climaxes. It was a matter of moments before I was again reaching my peak, spasming as I did so. Sam had wrapped his arms firmly around my waist, pounding himself into me as he found his own release, screaming my name as he did so.

We sat there long enough to catch our breath, still connected in every way we possibly could be. Sam’s lips pursing and layering kisses down my neck and shoulder. Wordless and breathless, I pulled myself off him, righting myself and replacing my clothing as I did so.

“That was...” he trailed off.

“Incredible.” I finished for him. He chuckled in response, nodding his head. With one last deep breath, Sam sat himself up and began the process of fixing his own jeans.

“Shall we?” he asked, turning the ignition once more and bringing the car back to life.

I nodded at him happily. “Let’s go home.”

Tagging from previous like-age:

@vicmc624@waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy @carissime72 @deans-baby-momma @formulafun @woodworthti666 @yetanotherreader @crashlyrose @hobby27 @gabby913 @jxackles @polina-93@supernaturaladdictsblog @fandomoverdose666 @deans-baby-momma @deanwanddamons @tazzi-baby @acertainhero

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