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[whisperingdaze]

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[whisperingdaze]

THIS IS SO CUTE SOBBING

late night whispers

parings: dean winchester x reader

warnings: no smut

it was late, the motel room was steeped in quiet, thick and unbroken except for the occasional buzz of the flickering neon sign outside. sam’s snores filled the space in soft, steady waves, his face buried in his pillow, one long arm hanging off the bed like a forgotten puppet.

the bed you shared with dean creaked every time one of you so much as breathed, small protests from springs that were just as tired as you both. his chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, the kind that only came when he was really, truly relaxed—a rare sight. his arm was slung over his face, hand resting on his forehead as if he could block out everything—maybe memories, worries, the weight of the damn world—by sheer will.

moonlight slipped through the gaps in the threadbare curtains, pale streaks painting over his body. it caught on the faint scars that mapped his skin, old wounds faded but never forgotten. the lines of the tattoo near his collarbone stood out in stark relief, dark ink against his golden skin, a marker of who he was and the battles he'd fought. he looked—raw, unguarded in a way he never let himself be in daylight.

you turned slightly toward him, propping yourself on an elbow. "you know," you began in a whisper, voice soft but steady, the kind of tone that doesn't need volume to carry weight, "you really make me happy, dean."

you watched his jaw tighten slightly, a muscle ticking as if your words had snuck through his defenses and hit a nerve. if the room wasn't so dim, you'd swear his ears were turning red. his lips parted, but no reply came.

"you were so scared of me hunting with you two," you continued, letting the words roll out slow and careful, like handling a fragile truth. "but it's been—it's been a great time."

dean turned his head toward you, his green eyes catching just enough moonlight to glint. "great time?" he murmured, voice low and gravelly, like gravel under a worn tire. "getting shot at? clawed at? bleeding all over my baby?"

you laughed softly, the sound barely above a breath, but it was enough to make his lips twitch in what might've been the ghost of a grin. "yeah," you replied, "all that and more. with you, it feels worth it."

there was a beat of silence, the kind that stretched and thickened until dean shifted. his hand moved, rough fingers brushing your arm, sliding down to your wrist. his touch was warm, deliberate, grounding. "you’re insane, you know that?" he said, the words edged with his usual sarcasm but softened by something rawer underneath.

"maybe," you replied, leaning in just a little. "but you love it."

his hand tightened on your wrist, pulling you closer until your face was just inches from his. "don't go making me admit stuff like that," he muttered, voice thick, his breath warm against your cheek. "not here, not now."

but he didn’t push you away. his thumb grazed your pulse point, lingering, a silent confession in its own right.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze

[whisperingdaze]

this is perfect ���‍↕️🙂‍↕️ gimme more i beg 🫶🏻

SWEETSˎˊ˗

ᯓ dean winchester x angel .ᐟ reader | minors do not interact!!

* dean makes you clean baby, but it doesn't go as planned.

! unprotected p in v (please wrap it up) . nicknames. creampie. sex in the impala. dean has a thing for wings.

it wasn't unusual to find an angel in the bunker, castiel popping up out of nowhere sometimes. or the occasional hostage situation. but you were a new edition, having been found while dean was on a lone hunt. sticking towards him like glue, you wouldn't leave his side, so he had no choice but to take you back home with him. candy was what he called you. due to your obsession after coming down to earth and how sweet you were to him. your eyes lit up at the treat, immediately doing whatever you could to obtain it.

however, what dean didn't like was the wrappers left all around baby. the sticky residue hard to clean out, so today you would be the one to fix your mess.

you lay on deans bed, hair a mess and only his t-shirt on. body sore from last night's activities. you'd only just opened your eyes, when you saw him standing there. already covered in grease, black staining his hands and clothes.

“mm-baby, goodmornin’” you spoke as you stretched, letting noises fall from your lips at the feeling.

“c'mon candy, there's no time for all that–” he motioned to the bathroom, ignoring the sounds you made, “you got work to do, and by work i mean, cleaning baby.”

you stare at him confused, a pout forming on your plump lips. all dean wanted to do was pull you into a kiss and stay beneath the sheets with you, wasting the day away. but he knew he couldn't. he had to show you how to be responsible.

“but, baby, why do i have to clean your car?” you crossed your arms, annoyance laced in your tone.

it was early in the morning and you hadn't even had coffee, who was he to ask you something as dumb as cleaning his car.

“don't care, you made the mess, you clean it.” dean wouldn't take no for an answer, pulling you up and dragging you into the garage.

you still only had his shirt on, which he didn't notice. solely focused on getting his babys interior shining.

here you were, face down ass up in the backseat of dean's impala. his hands grip tightly on your hips. his hold bruising, but you liked it that way. his cock bullied your cervix, hitting it every time he would snap his hips into yours.

“such a messy girl aren't ya, candy–mm,” he groaned, his words going straight to your core. the seats were coated in sweat mixed with your arousal, a faint smell of fruitiness trickled into the mixture.

wings fluttering underneath your–his shirt. your fingertips grasp onto the leather material, trying to find some stabilization. moans spewing from your lips like sinful melodies, a melody dean couldn't resist.

he pushed the fabric decorating your body up with a greased covered hand. your wings fluttered out, ruffled and sensitive. the sight only fueled him further, he always had a thing for them. your hard nipples pressing into the slick, cool leather, added to your pleasure.

even more so when dean forced your back into a more profound arch, his thick cock hitting deeper–which you didn't think was possible. he filled you up completely, both in mind and cunt. he brought his thumb down to your clit, adding just the right amount of pressure to send you to cloud nine.

“my dirty girl, gettin’ my car even more messed up–” dean's thrusts became more brutal, each stroke of his cock in your tight heat hitting that sweet spot inside that makes your knees weak and mind fuzzy. 

“so fuckin’ dumb on my dick. atta girl. milk my cock dry.” he practically growled into your ear, incoherent babbles push past your lips into the air.

your orgasm came crashing down on you 10x more than any other. his followed soon after, your warm silky walls clenching down onto his sent dean over the edge. he spilled his seed into you in thick hot ropes, coating your inners. your cheek presses against the seat, panting–spent and used.

dean wrapped his arms around-caging you in his warm, sweaty embrace, kissing your temple with gentle care.

“you're so good f'me, candy..” he whispered to you, his hand rubbing soothingly along your wings. coaxing you to fall asleep.

while you slept dean let his thoughts wander, specifically on the fact that his car was even dirtier now and he couldn't blame you.

sunny talks! first smut!! comments are greatly appreciated, i rlly hope this is enjoyable. i am not the best at conjuring up and writing sex scenes 😿

[whisperingdaze]

this was sooo cute, i love this baby !!!

Please may I request some comfort from Sam when reader just has a really bad day for no reason and everything's overwhelming and then a dam just breaks and reader just kinda breaks down the moment he asks if they're okay? With established relationship, please

Tysm, I could really use some comforting sammy rn

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ soothing comfort,

summary. you had a rough day but lucky, sam is there for you. he always is.

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 507

notes. some days are just hard and they suck for no specific reason. hope this comforts you a little ♡ my messages are always open if you ever need

The bunker is unusually quiet when you trudge through the door, your bag slipping off your shoulder and landing with a dull thud on the floor. You kick off your shoes with a sigh, the weight of the day pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Nothing bad had really happened. No major catastrophes or apocalyptic events. But somehow, it was just too much. Everything—from the clinking sound of your coffee mug this morning to the endless chatter of strangers—had grated on your nerves.

As you step into the kitchen, the faint scent of coffee and the warm glow of the overhead light greet you. Sam is there, leaning over a book with his hair slightly tousled, wearing one of his soft flannels that practically screams comfort.

“Hey,” he says, his voice gentle as he glances up from the page. His brow furrows the moment he takes in your face. “Rough day?”

You manage a noncommittal shrug, hoping he’ll let it slide, but you should’ve known better. Sam’s eyes linger on you, concerned and thoughtful, and then he stands, closing the book as he crosses the room toward you.

“Hey,” he repeats, softer this time, his hand coming to rest lightly on your arm. “Are you okay?”

And that’s all it takes. One simple question, asked in that kind, steady tone of his, and something in you snaps.

The tears come fast and without warning, your chest heaving as the dam finally breaks. You cover your face with your hands, embarrassed and overwhelmed, but you can’t stop.

“Whoa, hey,” Sam murmurs, his voice full of concern as he steps closer. His arms are around you in an instant, pulling you into the solid warmth of his chest. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you manage to choke out between sobs. “Nothing even happened, and I—”

“Shhh,” Sam soothes, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. “It’s okay to feel like this. You don’t need a reason.”

You cling to him, your fingers clutching the fabric of his flannel as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. His other hand moves to cradle the back of your head, his touch gentle and protective.

For what feels like forever, he just holds you, murmuring soft reassurances into your hair. “Let it all out,” he says. “I’ve got you. Just let it out.”

Eventually, your sobs start to subside, leaving you feeling drained but a little lighter. Sam pulls back just enough to tilt your chin up, his hazel eyes searching yours with so much warmth and understanding it makes your throat tighten again.

“Better?” he asks softly, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

You nod, sniffling. “I think so. Sorry for—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts gently. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling things.”

His words wrap around you like a blanket, and you manage a small smile. “Thanks, Sam.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling you back into his arms. “Anytime.”

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze

[whisperingdaze]

this was perfection🥹

grumpy!bf!dean being overprotective of baby.

perhaps you’ll learn to not make a mess in his car again, huh? — FLUFF, MOODY DEAN, EST. RELATIONSHIP.

*°࿐

“no! no way, princess. you get back out there and finish cleaning that damn milkshake outta my car,” dean huffed as soon as you stepped into the motel room again, holding a bucket full of soapy water and a sponge.

you laughed at the look on his face and whined at him playfully, “dean, come on. i’ve cleaned it.”

sam, who was sat on the bed across the room, couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh at the whole situation.

you see, the three of you had been celebrating a successful poltergeist hunt, and on the way back to the motel, you had the bright idea of getting milkshakes to celebrate ‘properly.’

and somehow, your bright pink strawberry milkshake had ended up all over the backseat of the impala. and all over you too, not that dean seemed to care about that though, only about the leather interior of his damn car.

he was absolutely furious.

“like hell you have,” dean snapped and shook his head, “i’ve seen your so-called cleaning, sweetheart. that ain’t cuttin’ it. so get back out there and finish the job.”

sam snickered again.

“you think this is funny, sammy?” dean turned to his brother, “she spilt her damn milkshake! all over baby!”

sam shook his head and raised his hands in surrender, though he was definitely fighting off a smirk, “hey! i didn’t say a thing.”

dean narrowed his eyes at his brother, before turning back to you, “i’m serious. you leave even a drop of that milkshake in my car and you’ll have hell to pay.”

you laughed again, a grin spreading from ear to ear on your face.

“dean, relax! it’s clean,” you breathed out through your laugh.

dean’s face tightened as he stood a few steps in front of you with his arms crossed, clearly unimpressed and irritated at this whole ordeal and how blasé you were being.

“don’t tell me to relax. that car’s my baby!”

you pouted playfully, “i thought i was.”

“you know what i mean,” dean muttered and shoved past you, out of the motel room.

you looked at sam in amusement. he shrugged with a smile, before you turned on your heel and followed dean outside.

you found him with his ass hanging out the backseat of the impala as he inspected your cleaning. you tried not to laugh as you made your way over.

“see?” you raised your brows and waited expectantly for his snarky response.

dean climbed out of the car, a grumpy expression still splashed across his face.

“it’s sticky.”

“it’s not sticky.”

“no, it is. it’s milkshake sticky. and it smells of strawberry.”

you chuckled, which made dean’s face tighten even more.

“dean, i’ve been cleaning it for like an hour!”

“and still… it’s not clean!” he huffed, his green eyes tracing over your features.

you scoffed and walked over to him, putting the bucket on the ground and throwing the sponge in it.

“dean… c’mon,” you muttered softly and crossed your arms as you stood in front of him.

he looked down at you and sighed, “it’s still sticky, baby.”

you glanced past him to look into the car. truthfully, the inside of the impala was clean—perhaps cleaner than it had actually been in a long time. you didn’t understand why dean was biting your head off about it, though you were amused nonetheless.

“you’re being a princess about this, dean,” you laughed.

he didn’t find that funny. he stepped forward and cupped your cheek, an irritable expression on his face.

“no, you’re being an ass. you know how much i love this car and—”

“yeah, i know,” you muttered softly, leaning into his touch, “i’ve really cleaned it, dean. i promise. and anyway, you're always spilling like… burger juice and monster blood all over it, what's a little strawberry sauce too?" you giggled softly.

dean sighed and studied your face for a moment, before softening his expression and leaning down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“you’re right. i’m sorry,” he chuckled breathily, though he was still a little tense, “you're right, it's clean. i’m just… i’m just being a pain… i think today’s hunt just really took it out of me. you did a good job, babygirl.”

“course, deanie. it’s been a long day. and i do actually listen when you speak about baby. i know how much you love her,” you nodded along as you spoke.

“mhm… and i love you too, my sticky girl. your turn for a wash now i think,” dean smirked down at you, the tension having left his body almost completely.

you chuckled again. “finally,” you breathed out playfully in relief that he’d finally cooled off about the car, “i need to get this milkshake out of my hair. do you... maybe wanna help me, de?”

dean's eyes raked over your figure, “course, angel. let me clean you,” he spoke softly despite the smirk on his face.

he took your hand and guided you back to the motel room and into the bathroom, ignoring the amused scoff that came from sam as you both passed him. you stripped off each other’s clothes and hopped into the shower, proceeding to forget all about that damn milkshake…

A/N: i’m ngl, i found this WAY back in my drafts and it’s probably the stupidest thing i’ve ever written (i was high idk what goes on in my brain when i smoke) but slay ig?? i’m debating even posting this tbh ahhHhHH ANYWAYS happy late bday to my pookems,,, i didn’t write anything for his bday (i haven’t written in like two weeks oops) BYE

feedback and reblogs are welcome and appreciated!!!! thank uuu

✩ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @jackleslvr @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @floralscented @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla

↑ comment to be added!

[whisperingdaze]

fantastic, perfection !! gimme 14 more ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

SMALL TALKS

DEAN WINCHESTER X DEMON!READER

WARNINGS: nothing!! just pure, tooth rotting fluff that will also make you yearn for dad!dean

SUMMARY: with majority of their children being in school, little monster and dean have their plates full with keeping each of them out of trouble.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

the truck door slammed behind dean and his little monster in the passenger seat, your face turning to his as he heard a soft sigh leave your lips. what had just transpired at the school had been shocking, seeing that you and dean strived on the fact that your children tell you everything.

lily and milo had been picked up by sam and his wife the second you and dean got the call, knowing that this visit to the school was going to be one without a three and two year old attached to your hips. the car ride was silent, soft chatter filling the space when clara and lincoln were picked up from their middle school, but that was it.

there was a grace period in which the two of you could drop the eldest children off at home and wait until the little’s need to be picked up from their elementary school. it was mostly filled with you and dean talking about what course of action you’d take with the phone call, but it was also listening to clara talk about her day and how her history teacher was out to get her.

when the clock struck 3pm, the truck was rumbling back down the road, headed to an impending conversation that dean never thought he’d need to have in his life. he never thought he’d ever have children, better yet ten foster ones, so when his little monster got a call that one of their children had gotten in a fight, he knew that this was going to be a big moment in his parenting journey.

by the time it was 3:15, five out of six of his children were in the car. luke and sam were babbling to each other about pokémon or god knows what boys their ages talked about, sadie was showing you the drawing she made in art class, marley was eagerly listening to her sisters rambles while adding in her own little commentary, and then there was scarlett, sitting behind your seat and longingly staring out the window.

dean was watching her intently, seeing the remnants of sadness on her cheeks. it was evidentially clear that dean’s little scarlett was thinking about two things; the mean words that the cruel boy sneered at her today, and how bad of a punishment her twin brother thatcher was going to get for defending her.

that is what the call had been about. apparently, a boy a year older than scarlett had cornered her on the playground, spewing hurtful words about how she was taken in by you and dean like an unwanted mutt. the poor girl had already been in tears by the time the boy had said her real parents never wanted her, and thatcher had already been reaching for the boys shoulder from behind.

from what the principal explained to you and dean, the blows thatcher delivered to this boy were brutal, and a broken nose and severely bruised eye had been left in the wake of the nine year olds rage. no one talked to his siblings like that — heck, no one talked to his twin like that without hearing back from him.

he’d been taken down to the principal’s office, and the call had been made. this had all been around twenty minutes ago, and dean still remembered the view of thatcher’s arm around scarlett’s shoulder, her tiny hand clutching his tightly in the rearview mirror of the truck.

his son was fiercely protective, and dean couldn’t even be really mad at him for what he did.

but as the last of the children left the car, scampering up the gravel of the driveway, you and dean looked at each other, a look that spoke a thousand words. you two weren’t even mad at thatch; that little boy had it coming for what he said to scarlett, and someone had to teach him a lesson. but as parents, you needed to make sure your kids knew that violence was never the answer.

as much as the two of you resorted to it most of the time.

“dean i don’t know what to do,” you finally said, breaking the silence and scrubbing a hand down your face. “this has never happened before. and as much as i would love to tell thatch that i’m proud of him, i know as parents we can’t do that.”

a laugh tore from dean’s lips, rumbling in his chest as he grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth and running your knuckles across in a feather soft motion. “i know baby,” he breathed, holding your hand tightly in his grasp. “but as much as he should know that looking out for scar is important, he also needs to know that sometimes violence isn’t the answer.”

“this is really rich coming from us.” you chuckled, and dean couldn’t agree more. you were a demon for hell’s sake, he a hunter. violence was in your nature, and there was a gnawing feeling in dean’s gut that thatcher got his keen sense of violence from his daddy.

a smile graced dean’s lips, and in a feeble attempt to get to the conversation at hand, he leaned over the centre console and opened your door, leaving a lingering kiss on your cheek before he spoke softly in your ear. “cmon little monster, let’s go do some hard core parenting.”

thatcher had been sitting on one of the lawn chairs in the backyard, spine still and hands placed delicately in his lap as he thought about the days events. that’s where you and dean had found him, and it stirred a solemn feeling in your gut that your little boy felt so broken up when all he wanted to do was protect his twin sister.

it was his birthright to protect. he and scarlett had come into the world together — albeit thatcher three minutes earlier, and it would be a cold day in hell before he saw his sister cry at the hands of false words.

you and dean had been standing at the back door, waiting for a good moment to interfere when thatcher’s voice broke through the tense silence. “i would do it again y’know,” he spoke clearly, turning his head slightly so his side profile was on display to you and dean. “and not just for scar, for all of my siblings.” a lump rose in your throat, a sudden realization that you had raised your children to be kind and good people, someone who people could trust.

“i don’t care that majority of them aren’t my blood siblings,” thatcher continued, ringing his hands together as you and dean stayed silent. “they’re my family, you’re my family. you guys were there for me and scarlett when things got tough. so was clara, link — heck even milo and lily.” he giggled at the end of his statement, and you couldn’t help but let a teary giggle out as well.

“what i’m trying to say is that all of you mean the world to me, and i would beat up as many bullies as i need to just to make sure that my siblings are smiling.”

the pitter patter of your feet running over to where thatcher sat was the first sound to be heard, your sniffling the second. you lunged at the nine year old boy who was way too wise beyond his years and engulfed him in a hug from behind. kisses were planted on his forehead, and the idea to say violence was never the answer went completely out the window.

“you might not be biologically ours,” you spoke into his ear, ruffling his hair as you spoke. “but you will always be our son, always have a special place in me and your dads hearts.” your words were followed by dean’s hand resting on thatch’s shoulder, the boy in question turning his head to look at his father.

“you are mine and your mothers son through and through, thatcher winchester; and i’ve got some tricks to teach you if more bullies try to mess with scarlett or any of your other siblings again.”

thatcher just smiled, resting his head on dean’s shoulder as you nuzzled your face against his. “i love you mama, i love you too papa.”

and at once, dean winchester knew what peace was. he felt it in the loving embrace of his little demon, in the arms of his ten foster children. he felt it in the beautiful home you and him created as a safe space for your children, and he finally understood what normalcy felt like.

TAGS: @titsout4jackles @starzify @floralscented @deansbeer @bluemerakis @deanangel @haunteres @figthoughts @gibson-g1rl @foolinthera1n @whisperingdaze @honeyryewhiskey @misatxox @a-lil-pr1ncess

NAT BABBLES: i love post szn 15 dean having a litter of children and living happily on a farm with his lil monster☺️

[whisperingdaze]

BABY THIS WAS SO GOOD

﹏﹏ ࣪ ˖ pairing : dean winchester x mermaid .ᐟ reader

synopsis: on a hunt sam and dean find out mermaids are real and they have to end the mother of them all, which brings them to you.

warnings: mentions of death , alcohol mentions (!reader is most definitely an alcoholic!) , mentions of having like no clothes?? ...

word count: 1.3k

the oceans waves crash against each other in a frenzy. the sky is grey and rain falls harshly against the waters as a storm comes in. villagers run to hide, for if they didn't the sea would take them. forever letting them find peace – well, death – in the salty waters. creating ruckus and fear was a pass-time of your mothers, after years of being a goddess and worshiped for her help, a flip must've switched in her head.

shaping her with rough hands into the monster she was today. you were not one to lie, even you had sunken ships and caused floods, but those days ended long ago–unless you were ordered otherwise.

once you realized that it wasn't needed. for all you wanted was the walk amongst the people, yet you were bound to the seafloor as long as she was alive.

her control over you was suffocating, until you could muster up the courage to take her down you would forever lay beneath the deep blue waters. marine life swarming around you as all you could do was watch with tearful eyes.

sea witch was what those whose eyes caught a glimpse of yours called you. it was a name that you didn't mind because you found peace in spells and potions.

you found yourself engrossed in whatever book fell victim to the ocean's grasp, specifically witches spell books that were tossed away by careless hunters, even if it was wet and well-ruined.

being around for centuries had its perks, only those who were blessed by the gods, you'd say, would ever get to try a pirates rum. the taste was strong and lingered on your tongue for hours-just how you liked it. who said mermaids couldn't drink? it shocked you that such a thing was created by the hands of mankind.

often swimming away from your mothers presence, seeking that of a humans instead. their energy was uplifting, calming even. you never met a soul whose being didn't bring you into a state of relaxation, even the most horror filled person still had good in their heart.

and, that was enough for you.

it never occured to you that your mothers actions would attract the likes of hunters, her voice declared the urgency for their disposal.

forcing you to deal with them.

you reluctantly swam towards their boat, with minimal effort you pushed it over, bending the waters to wrap around their forms effortlessly drowning them in such a way they would feel no pain.

even though the crismon liquid was nowhere in sight you knew in the back of your mind that their blood was on your hands now.

you needed a drink after this, so you swam beneath the rocks and into your small cavern like area. which was filled with shiny iridescent shells, sand dollars, and of course your favorite alcoholic beverage.

with how many pirates whose lives you'd taken you had enough rum to last you 100 more years, that's if you didn't drink the remaining bottles to the last drop. for you hadn't taken a life in decades, even if you'd done it many times before it still took a toll on your mental being.

the golden liquid slides down your throat, the slight burn that comes after providing you that feeling that you never want to get rid of. your fingers clench around the bottle, plump lips wrapping around the top as your head swings back to take in more.

while you were off somewhere drowning in your sorrows for what felt like eternity, your mother was in a bit of a predicament.

two hunters had her pinned down on land, a blazing fire raised atop of her form. she would've called out to you, but the heat and dry air depleted her magic rapidly. for if she was near water with what little strength she had left she could make a call to you, her precious daughter–little servant in her eyes. she had chained you down to the sea, if it wasn't for her you could be walking amongst them, the filthy humans.

she was not all evil, she still cared for you, albeit in a sick and twisted way, but she still cared. her body went up in flames before she could even think, screams echo throughout the wind, eventually reaching you.

a weight had seemed to be lifted off your shoulders at the same time. pulling the long empty bottle from your lips, you dived back into the blue sea. following the sound as animals follow behind you.

sam and dean found themselves by the shore, awaiting any other mermaid that would attempt to attack them for hurting their mother.

eyes widening in surprise when they saw you emerge from the waters, tail turning into legs with shiny blue scales adorning them. a shell top decorating your breasts, nothing covering your bottom half.

your eyes were glazed over with tears, a bright smile etched on your features. you were finally free, and it was all thanks to them.

sam covered his eyes, not wanting to look somewhere he shouldn't, but dean kept his sharp gaze on your figure as it got closer. what he didn't expect was your wet body trapping him in a tight hug.

“thank you..” was all you said. your voice carried a hint of sadness, but the happiness overrode it. your mother being dead had upset you – wishing it was you who ended her life – but now you were free.

the boys brought you back to where they resided, a bunker. in which you lay on a couch now clothed, eyes looking in awe at the things around you.

you'd never seen anything like, rows of books that could be filled with endless spells and potions. this was a dream come true, dean had brought you food. it was fish.

you wondered if he was stupid, for who gives a mermaid what she is half of to eat. you stood up, feet pattering against the cool wood floors, fingers trailing down spines of books until you found the perfect one. wandering back to the couch you sat, opening the book and diving in.

every word, you took in. every spell, you memorized. it was everything you dreamed of and more.

when dean came back with sam in tow he found you with a pile of books surrounding your form. he could barely make you out with how many there were.

dean couldn't help but roll his eyes, you were a bookworm just like sam. one that was not fully human and drank more than anyone he ever knew, but still like his brother.

“looks like you were havin’ fun while we were gone, ariel.” he teased, standing in front of you with a wolfish grin.

the name stirred something inside you, that of irritation who was ariel and why was dean calling you that?

“who is ariel? that's not my name.” you spoke, confusion and a hint of annoyance laced in your tone.

you look up towards him through fluttering lashes, you didn't even realize how much time had passed and just how many spellbooks you'd read.

“don't worry your pretty little head about it, doll.” you heard him say as he walked away towards the kitchen, most likely for a beer. shrugging you went back to the pages in front of you, immediately engrossed in them once again.

to dean you looked so smooth and soft, just like a doll. he leaned against the counter, watching you with eyes filled with something one could only describe as love – an emotion both of you were not familiar with. anything he loved got hurt, and anything you loved would cease to exist.

leaving you to mourn for the rest of your life, but he could get used to you being here, especially if this is how you spent your days. cooped up without a care waiting for him.

authors note: after like A MILLION years its here, if its really bad SHHHHH dont even THINK that i wrote it 🤭 shes been on my mind forever and I finally decided to finish it!! I LOVE YOU ALL AND PLEASE SHOW HER SOME LOVE TOO!!

tags: @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @bitchykittenconnoisseur

[whisperingdaze]

perfect 😚

Hey, what if Dean gets hurt on a hunt and we help him? with sexual results

lamy's notes: yes yes yes!!!!!

the hunt had gone south fast, like the goddamn ground had opened up and decided to swallow dean whole. you sat in the impala, engine humming low under your hands, waiting with a gnawing pit of worry as sam burst out of the treeline carrying dean like a broken doll. even through the streaks of blood and dirt painting dean's face, his cocky smirk was a shadow of itself, and that was how you knew it was bad.

"he’s worse than he’s letting on," sam growled, voice tight as he hefted dean toward the car. dean grunted, trying for a joke—something about not ruining the upholstery—but it came out garbled, half-choked. the minute sam dumped him into the passenger seat, you were reaching over, hands brushing his bruised face, feeling the sticky warmth of blood that wasn’t supposed to be there.

"babe, the hell happened?" your voice cracked despite your best efforts. dean’s green eyes flickered open, lips quirking weakly.

"just… took a hit from something nasty," he rasped, voice rough like gravel as he winced under your touch. the sound of the back door slamming shut snapped your attention to sam, already rounding the hood with purpose.

the engine’s low growl filled the tense silence, your hands gripping the wheel tight enough to turn your knuckles white. the air hung heavy, laced with the metallic tang of blood and the sweat rolling off dean in waves. he groaned softly beside you, a sound that was more exhaustion than pain, though the way his fingers clung to his ribs told you he was hanging on by a thread.

"we’re almost there," you murmured, your voice steady but low, like you were afraid anything louder might break him. the flicker of a smirk teased the corner of his lips, faint but there—a fleeting ghost of the dean you knew.

"yeah," he grunted, shifting in the seat like he couldn’t quite get comfortable. "should’ve seen the other guy."

his words were a weak attempt at humor, but his voice cracked halfway through, leaving you biting your lip to keep your worry in check. you reached out, brushing your fingers over the back of his hand where it gripped his ribs. his skin was warm, almost feverish, but he didn’t pull away—didn’t say anything, just let your touch linger like it was grounding him.

"when we get back to the bunker, you’re letting me clean you up," you murmured, voice firm, but soft enough not to add to his pain. "you’re a goddamn mess, dean."

his chuckle was low, breathless. "never thought you’d… wanna see me naked that bad."

"asshole," you shot back, though the heat behind it was barely there. it was hard to muster anger when the man you loved looked like he’d been chewed up and spat out by a pack of hellhounds.

by the time you got him back to the bunker, sam had peeled off with a muttered promise of "pie" and left you alone with dean. getting him inside was a feat—he was stubborn, leaning on you heavily but refusing to admit just how much he needed you. once you got him to the bathroom, you were guiding him onto the edge of the tub, your fingers already working at his blood-stiffened flannel.

"sit. let me do this," you commanded, voice steady despite the way your chest ached at the sight of him, all battered and bruised.

dean groaned, leaning back against the cool tile as you peeled his shirt away, revealing the mottled bruises blooming across his ribs, the gash on his shoulder, the dried blood streaking his chest. he hissed as you dabbed at the wounds, your touch as gentle as you could manage.

"fuck, sweetheart," he muttered, teeth gritted. "you tryin' to kill me?"

"shut up," you shot back, though your lips curved in a faint smile. "you’re lucky i’m here to put you back together."

you filled the tub with warm water, the sound of it rushing into the porcelain drowning out the quiet grunts of pain dean let slip as you helped him strip the rest of the way. his jeans were a struggle, blood making the denim stick to his skin, and by the time you got them off, both of you were flushed and breathing hard. his boxers were next, and then he was bare, slumped against the wall like a puppet with its strings cut.

"you’re a sight, winchester," you murmured, shaking your head as you guided him into the tub. the water turned pink almost instantly, swirling around him like some kind of macabre baptism.

his head tipped back against the edge of the tub, eyes fluttering closed as he exhaled shakily. "you’re gonna spoil me."

"don’t get used to it," you teased, though the warmth in your voice betrayed you. "you’re not exactly making this easy."

he cracked one eye open, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "i’m wounded. you’re supposed to baby me."

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin that broke through. you lathered up a washcloth, running it carefully over his chest, his arms, his neck. every touch was deliberate, slow, meant to soothe as much as clean. he hissed when you passed over a tender spot, but otherwise, he stayed quiet, watching you through half-lidded eyes.

when you reached his thighs, his breath hitched, the muscles tensing under your touch. your eyes flicked up to meet his, and the heat there was unmistakable, cutting through the haze of exhaustion and pain.

"you sure you’re up for this?" you asked softly, voice steady even as your pulse quickened.

he chuckled low, rough around the edges. "sweetheart, i’d have to be dead not to be up for you."

you leaned in, your lips brushing his ear as you murmured, "then let’s get you out of here."

it took effort to help him stand, his body heavy against yours, but you managed to get him under the spray of the shower, easing him down onto the built-in bench. the water cascaded over him, washing away the last traces of blood and dirt, leaving his skin clean but bruised, raw.

"fuck, that’s good," he muttered, tilting his head back, the water streaming down his face. you stood over him, hands braced on your hips, watching the way his chest rose and fell, the way the tension seemed to melt from his shoulders.

"you good?" you asked, stepping closer, your fingers trailing along his jawline. "not too much?"

he caught your wrist, tugging you closer until you were standing between his legs. "not even close."

his hands slid up your thighs, rough and insistent, and when his lips met yours, it was anything but soft. it was need, pure and sharp, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he couldn’t get enough. you sank into him, your hands tangling in his wet hair, the water plastering your clothes to your skin.

"dean," you breathed against his lips, your voice barely audible over the rush of the shower. "you’re hurt."

"don’t care," he growled, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap. "just need you."

you hesitated for a heartbeat, your fingers brushing the bruises on his ribs, the cut on his shoulder. but the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing keeping him tethered, it shattered whatever resolve you had left.

"you’re impossible," you muttered, your lips curving into a faint smile as you reached for the hem of your shirt. you stripped it off, tossing it to the floor, followed by the rest of your clothes, until you were bare, the steam curling around you like a second skin.

his hands were on you immediately, sliding over your hips, your waist, up to cup your breasts. he groaned low in his throat, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, his touch rough but reverent.

"you’re perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with something that sounded almost like awe.

you pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "just sit back and let me take care of you."

you sank down onto him slowly, your body adjusting to the stretch, the fullness of him. he cursed under his breath, his hands gripping your hips, his head falling back against the tile. you set the pace, rolling your hips, keeping it slow, deliberate, mindful of his injuries. but every time he groaned, every time his fingers dug into your skin, it spurred you on, made you want to push him just a little further.

"fuck," he hissed, his voice strained, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. "you… you feel so good."

"so do you," you whispered, leaning in to press your lips to his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, the heat of him under your tongue.

his hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. the water beat down on you, drowning out the sounds of your gasps and moans, the rhythm of your bodies moving together.

you felt the tension coiling in your belly, the heat building until it was almost too much. "dean," you breathed, your voice shaking. "i’m…"

"me too," he rasped, his hands tightening on your hips, guiding you faster, harder. "fuck, sweetheart, i’m…"

when it hit, it was like the world dissolved around you, your body shuddering, your breath hitching as pleasure crashed over you in waves. dean followed seconds later, his grip on you almost bruising, his head thrown back, his mouth open in a silent cry.

you stayed like that for a moment, tangled together, the water washing away the evidence of what you’d just done. when you finally moved, it was to reach for the soap, your hands gentle as you cleaned him, your touch lingering on the places where he was hurt. "you’re somethin' else," he muttered, his voice hoarse but filled with warmth.

you smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "so are you."

when you were done, you helped him out of the shower, drying him off carefully, your hands lingering on every line and curve of his body. his skin was warm under the towel, the muscles beneath taut but trembling from exertion. every brush of fabric seemed to make him shiver, his breath hitching as you worked your way lower. even through his exhaustion, the evidence of his desire was impossible to miss—hard, thick, and heavy, pressed against your hand when you lingered at his hips.

"you don’t have to," he started, voice rough, words faltering when your fingers curled around him deliberately. his protests melted into a low, guttural moan as you dropped to your knees, the towel slipping from your grasp as your lips replaced your hands. his fingers gripped the edge of the bathroom counter, knuckles white, the tension rippling through him like a live wire.

"fuck…" he hissed, head falling back as you took him deeper, your hands braced against his thighs to steady yourself. the sounds he made were unrestrained, raw and beautiful, his hips jerking despite the care you’d urged on him earlier. his groans filled the room, reverberating in your chest, each one driving you further, faster.

when he finally came undone, it was with a choked gasp, his hands fisting in your hair as he spilled into your mouth. you swallowed every drop, not breaking eye contact as you pulled back, his chest heaving, his body trembling like he was moments from collapse.

"you… you’re gonna kill me," he muttered breathlessly, his voice tinged with a laugh that was more disbelief than humor.

you smiled, rising to your feet and brushing your lips softly against his. "you’re tougher than that, winchester."

you dressed him carefully afterward, your hands slow and soothing as you guided him into clean boxers and a soft shirt. he was pliant under your touch, half-asleep by the time you climbed into bed beside him. as his body instinctively curled around yours, his arm draped protectively across your waist, the steady rhythm of his breathing tickled your neck.

"you’re a damn angel," he murmured sleepily, voice rich with warmth and something deeper, more vulnerable.

you pressed a kiss to his forehead, your fingers threading through his hair, your other hand resting on his over your waist. "and you’re a damn fool," you whispered back, your words affectionate, soft.

his soft chuckle was the last sound you heard before sleep claimed you both, the tension of the day dissolving into the comfort of his presence, solid and unyielding, even in rest.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze

[whisperingdaze]

oh my sweet mar, this was so good. i love this idea😮‍💨😮‍💨

☾ 𝔖uper͡𝒏aturɑᥣ 𝜗𝜚 ྀི

road head

parings: dean winchester x reader

warnings: smut, m.receiving

the impala roared down the highway, tires slicing through the asphalt like a blade. the radio hummed low, a quiet rock tune crooning in the background, barely audible over the rumble of the engine. sam was stretched out in the backseat, long limbs tangled awkwardly, head tilted against the window. he’d passed out a while back, snoring faintly, exhaustion from their last hunt dragging him under despite the motion of the car.

up front, dean had one hand draped over the wheel, his other resting lazily on his thigh. the dim glow of the dashboard lit his face, the sharp cut of his jaw, the curve of his lips pulled into a faint smirk. his eyes darted to you, a flash of green catching the light as he caught you staring. “what?” he asked, voice low and rough, like gravel warmed in the sun.

“you’re tense,” you murmured, leaning closer, your hand grazing his knee.

dean huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “babe, when am i not?”

but there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze now, a glint of something darker, something intrigued. your fingers slid higher, slow and deliberate, tracing the seam of his jeans. his breath hitched, just barely, his hand tightening on the wheel. “you sure this is a good idea?” he muttered, his voice dipping, the words laced with warning but lacking conviction.

“sam’s out cold,” you whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, the warmth of your breath making him shiver. “and you need to relax.”

the smirk returned, sharper now, dangerous. “well, if you’re offering...”

without waiting for another word, you slid down, shifting onto your knees, your head dipping into his lap. his legs parted slightly, accommodating you, the denim stretched taut over his thighs. his breath came heavier now, each exhale brushing the silence between the songs on the radio.

with practiced ease, you unzipped his jeans, the rasp of metal loud in the intimate quiet of the car. your fingers brushed over the bulge in his boxers, firm and hot, already straining against the fabric. dean’s hips shifted, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. “fuck, sweetheart...” he breathed, glancing briefly at the rearview mirror to ensure sam was still out.

“you’re good,” you murmured, pulling him free, the weight of him heavy in your hand. the tip was flushed, slick with arousal, a bead of precum catching the light before your tongue darted out to taste it. salty, with a faint musk that was all dean.

the first pass of your lips over him had his breath hitching, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “fuck,” he hissed, one hand leaving the wheel to tangle in your hair, guiding but not forcing. “easy, baby.”

you hummed in response, the vibration making him curse again. you took him deeper, your lips stretched tight around his length, your tongue swirling over the ridge of his head before sliding down, tracing every vein, every ridge. the sounds were obscene—wet and sloppy, the slick glide of your mouth paired with the faint hitch of his breath and the creak of the leather seat beneath him.

each time you pulled back, your tongue teased the tip, swirling around it before you sank down again, taking him as far as you could. the weight of his hand on your head guided you, his fingers tightening just slightly when you swallowed around him, the pressure making him groan.

the impala swerved slightly, the wheel jerking in his other hand as you pushed him closer to the edge. “jesus, y/n,” he rasped, his voice tight. “if we crash, you’re explaining this to sam.”

you couldn’t help but grin, the motion awkward with him still in your mouth. pulling back just enough to speak, your lips shiny with spit, you murmured, “maybe he’d just be impressed.”

dean’s laugh was strained, his hips bucking involuntarily as you took him in again, deeper this time, your throat constricting around him. his grip on your hair tightened, and he let out a guttural moan, quickly biting it back, glancing nervously at the rearview mirror. “quiet,” he hissed, though his own voice betrayed him, rough and ragged.

the rhythm of your movements quickened, your hand joining your mouth, twisting and pumping in time with your lips. the car’s speed seemed to increase with his heartbeat, the engine’s growl blending with the slick, wet sounds filling the cabin. you could feel him twitch against your tongue, his breathing erratic, the muscles in his thighs tensing beneath your hands.

“y/n,” he warned, his voice low and strained, the syllables drawn out like a prayer. “shit, i’m close.”

instead of slowing, you doubled down, taking him as deep as you could, your nose brushing the base of him as your throat constricted. his hips jerked, his hand gripping your hair almost painfully as he came, hot and salty, spilling down your throat. he groaned low, his head falling back against the seat, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

you pulled back slowly, your tongue darting out to catch the last of him, your lips swollen and slick. “all better?” you asked innocently, settling back into your seat and wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

dean glanced at you, his eyes dark, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and arousal. “jesus christ,” he muttered, shaking his head. “you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

from the backseat, sam stirred, mumbling something incoherent before turning over and settling back into sleep. dean let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair before fixing his jeans. “you’re lucky he sleeps like the dead.”

“or maybe you’re just that quiet,” you teased, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. his skin was still flushed, the faint sheen of sweat catching the light as he shot you a look, equal parts amused and exasperated.

“yeah, keep pushing your luck,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk as he gunned the engine, the impala roaring back to life as it hurtled down the highway.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze

[whisperingdaze]

stop this was so good nat !! gimme 14 more of these please and thanks ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

BORDERLINE

SOLDIER BOY X SWEETHEART!READER

WARNINGS: soldier boy as a whole, mentions of drugs, crude language

SUMMARY: in a feeble attempt to thwart your crush on soldier boy, you decide to practice shooting a gun with him, realizing that the crush you have on him is on the borderline of obsession.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

the attraction you held for soldier boy was starting to become a problem.

it had been two weeks since you helped the boys rescue soldier boy from his cold induced sleep, and each waking second you were with him was getting worse and worse for your sanity.

although the man was a grade A jackass, he had this whit and charm about him that had you falling at his feet. it didn’t make it any better that he was totally hot. who cares if he was technically a grandpa, you were so far gone no one could bring you back.

you were gracing the borderline of obsession, and soldier boy would be a fool to have not noticed.

how could he not? you were always batting those pretty lashes at him, staring with those wide eyes when you thought he wasn’t looking, and always nervously biting your lip or stuttering over your words when he spoke to you.

ben thought you were adorable; with your glossy waves, short skirts and tight fitted tops. you were everything he found attractive, your personality just being the cherry on top.

so when he saw you, small denim skirt and tight tank top, making his dick harden, he realized that it was time to make a move.

you were staring down at butcher’s desk, looking at the gun he had given you to protect yourself. though there was a slight problem; you’ve never shot a gun in your life, and there was no way that butcher was going to teach you, even if you asked nicely.

“the guns not gonna bite ya’ babydoll,” the sound of soldier boys smug voice rang from behind you, making you stiffen. “c’mon, pick it up, i’ll teach ya’ how to use it.”

the apples of your cheeks reddened, slowly looking at the weapon and back at soldier boy. “you don’t need to do this ben, i don’t want to inconvenience you.” your words made his jaw clench. it wasn’t even the fact that you used his real name — a small gesture that made his stomach tighten. but it was the fact that you thought the mere idea of him helping you would be annoying to him.

you could never annoy him.

never.

you were the only person in this stupid group he could stand to be around.

“you could never annoy me, babydoll. now c’mon,” he spoke, reaching across you to grab the gun and stopping a breath away from your face, his nose basically touching yours. “you need to learn how to shoot, protect yourself from the fuckers out in the world.” he implemented his words with a sultry kiss on your cheek, the smell of weed and something distinctly soldier boy hoarding your senses as he pulled away and walked towards the shooting range in the building.

standing in place, your eyes were wide as you recounted what just happened. did he really just kiss you on the cheek? face so close to yours you could taste the earthy drug on his breath? it was all so intoxicating. so much so you didn’t even notice the man in question standing by the office’s entrance, a smug smile on his face.

“you comin’ babydoll? or do i need to haul you over my shoulder and carry you myself?” the imagery of your ass on full display as you were flung over his shoulder made the knot in ben’s spine stiffen, having mentally stop himself from getting a hard on as you walked sheepishly closer to him.

the walk to the secluded gun range was silent, your brain running ramped with how close soldier boy was to you; while ben tried to stop himself from pushing you against a wall and kissing you senseless.

as the two of you walked into the stuffy room, your eyes instantly roaming around to notice multiple targets with an onslaught of bullet holes in them. a long, stretching metal table to stand behind was glaring at you, glass panes dull without light reflecting off of them.

with a breeze of nonchalance and arrogance, solider boy walked over to the table and adjusted the gun in his palms. he fiddled with the clip, smacking it on the table and making sure all the bullets were in perfectly.

when he clicked it back into place, the man of the hour in your mind adjusted the safety off before aiming the gun upwards and shooting a couple of bullets at the target.

the loud sound made you plug your ears and jump in shock, but you also couldn’t help but notice how he landed his shots perfectly on the targets skull each time.

it was hot, watching him shoot a gun so effortlessly. yet you also couldn’t help but scold yourself at the thoughts twirling around your brain. how you wished he would kiss you senseless, be as reckless with you as he was with that gun while he pounded into your-

“get that pretty ass over here babydoll,” soldier boy grinned out, crooking a finger in a come hither motion. “gonna start our lessons nice and easy”

timidly, you walked over to the smirking man, gasping as his one arm snaked out and gripped your waist to pull you into him. your noses were brushing each other, breaths mingling as ben leaned forward and quickly nipped at your bottom lip.

no time to even react, soldier boy maneuvered your bodies so he was caging you in between the table and his body — his big arms wrapped around you in a snug and protective shield.

“first of all,” he started, whispering in your ear as you looked down at the gun in front of you. “this is how you grip a gun.” he showed you the proper ways to hold it, demonstrating and explaining through the proper technique as you tried to listen and not let your brain explode. “does that make sense, babydoll?”

his question caught you off guard, for you’d been staring at his veiny arms instead of listening.

with a sheepish nod, you grabbed the gun and held it in the same position he had. the feeling of his hands gripping tightly onto your waist made you coil tight in anticipation, and the ragged pull of his breath against your ear had yours catching in your throat.

“good fuckin’ girl.” he rasped out, the feeling of his smirk tickling your earlobe. “such a good listener for me, hmm?”

a sheepish nod filtered from your bones, leaving soldier boy to playfully kiss at your neck as his arms wrapped around yours. “now this is how ya do it.” he murmured in your ear, lifting your arms up while his big hands encompassed yours. “keep steady, aim straight at your target, and squeeze the trigger. though be careful ‘bout the recoil pretty girl. as much as i’m always here to catch you, i don’t want you hurting yourself.

nothing came from your parted lips as you focused solely on aiming at the target. nog even the feeling of ben’s hands gripping yours and his arms intwined around your body could shake the wave of concentration that coursed through your body.

with a shaky breath, your finger jumped to squeeze the trigger. a jolt thrummed up your arms, the ricochet from the shot jolting your bones.

you hadn’t even realized you’d closed your eyes until you felt ben’s hands untangle themselves from yours, palms going to your shoulders and squeezing tightly.

“look at you, babydoll!” he praised, lips brushing the shell of your ear as you peaked your eyes open. “that’s my fuckin’ girl! right on the money!”

it took you a while to realize that your shoot had pierced directly through the targets chest, hitting exactly where their heart would lie beating in their bones.

letting out a deafening squeal, you jumped slightly on the spot, turning around and throwing your arms around soldier boy’s neck. “i did it!” you squeaked, feet lifting off the ground as ben spun you around in his grasp. “holy shit ben i did it!”

“yes you did baby” he murmured in your ear, placing you down on the table and spreading your legs so he could fit in between your thighs. “and now it’s time for your reward.”

his skillful tongue dove into your mouth, lips mashing against each other as the both of you indulged in a heated kiss. whatever crush you had on this man turned into full blown obsession as he gripped your hair in one hand, using the leverage to pull your head back and leave trails of kisses down your neck.

this maddening lust you held for him wasn’t going away soon. especially after you learned what his tongue and fingers felt like exploring your pussy.

TAGS: @starzify @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @bluemerakis @gibson-g1rl @deanangel @whisperingdaze @figthoughts @honeyryewhiskey @haunteres @foolinthera1n @ilovedeanwinchester4

NAT BABBLES: first soldier boy fic. . . pls be nice to me🥹

DIVIDER CREDS: @adornedwithlight

[whisperingdaze]

i am literally screaming baby !! lai, sweetheart. i knew this was gonna be so good from the moment you told me about this. this is literally phenomenal (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

𓇼 SPELLS SEX BY THE SEA | 18+

﹏﹏ ࣪ ˖ pairing: dean winchester x mermaid .ᐟ reader | minors do NOT interact

synopsis: dean finds you in your element, on the beach making little potions by the water. he never did like witches, but you, his little doll, were an exception.

warnings: alcohol mentions | i mean she is a mermaid | , making out , witchcraft , unprotected p!v | WRAP IT UP!! | , creampie , cock-warming if you squint!! , !reader rides him like a cowgirl ...

word count: 1k

the sun was high in the sky, its rays beating down on your form. the heat was rather calming. you wore just a bikini, one that dean had bought for you. the beach was empty, only you, your spellbook, and a bottle of rum accompanying the waters.

dean wasn't with you – even though you nearly went everywhere with him – because he didn't know you had wandered out of the bunker. you needed a break, for the boys wouldn't let you practice potions or spells.

it annoyed you, it's not like you were going to burn the place down, you couldn't. it was a bunker for christ sake!

the sand stuck to your form, not that you minded. your fingers gingerly stirred the mixtures together, mind focused on the task at hand. so much so that you hadn't heard the sound of sand being pushed out of the way by someone.

dean sat next to you, his eyes trailing over your figure. his heart warmed at the sight of you so focused, it was cute. his hand came to rest at the small of your back, bringing you closer to him slightly.

“what'cha doin’ doll?” his breath tickled your neck as he spoke, which broke you out of your trance.

“dean?” you questioned quickly, turning to face him with furrowed brows. you didn't know how he found you – like you didn't leave a note just in case he wanted to look for you.

his fingers traced patterns on your skin, the smell of his cologne surrounding your senses.

“i'm doing my 'witchcraft’ over here since i can't at the bunker–” you pouted, about to start complaining again.

he brought his other hand to your chin, gently tugging until your lips met his, silencing you effectively. the taste of rum lingered on your tongue, in which he hummed at the taste of.

your body moved subconsciously, pushing yourself onto him. straddling his lap as your hands found his hair, tugging at his soft locks to deepen the kiss. tongues dancing with each other. his hands roamed your body, groping every inch until they rested on the curve on your ass, gripping the flesh roughly.

your hips grind against his, soft moans leave your lips. “c'mon doll, let's take this to the car, yea?” he murmured–lips still pressed against each other as he swallowed your moans.

you shook your head, pulling away. a string of salvia following the action. you stare at him with hooded eyes, forcing him to crane his neck to the side. swollen and wet lips trailing kisses down his neck, nipping and sucking at the skin. dean let out groans, which only fueled you to keep going.

he began grabbing your ass harder. grinding your body down onto his with force, hips bucking up to meet yours. the thin bathing suit doing nothing to hide the damp spot forming at the friction.

“dean..” you whined against his neck, hands now clawing at his jacket, pulling it off his body until he left in his shirt.

his hands left your bottom, pulling on the string of your top to let your chest free. dean bit his lip at the sight of your breasts. his hands covering both with care, gently tugging on the pointed nub with calloused fingers.

your head flew back, abandoning his neck. the feeling was too much, him playing with your nipples and the feeling on his jeans on your barely covered clit – it was all too much.

with your mind fuzzy and full of the oldest winchester, you didn't feel nor hear the sound of him unzipping his pants, and your bathing suit bottoms being pulled to the side. his cock teased your entrance–hard and leaking pre-cum, coaxing you out of whatever state you were in.

your hips had been raised by dean, his fingers rubbing smooth soothing circles along your hips.

“c'mon babydoll, you can take this alright.” you nodded at his words, sinking down into his length with a strained moan.

he flung his head back at the feeling on your cunt around him–tight and warm. your legs dug into the sand as you bottomed out on top of him, scales hidden beneath the grains and your work long forgotten beside you. you were nice and full, his cock stretching you out to the max.

dean began to move your hips, his dick hitting your g-stop with every little movement. you grasp on his shirt tightly, fingers digging into the fabric. you dug your head into his shoulder for a brief moment, muffling your moans somewhat.

once you began to move up and down, dean was done for. he lost all control–watching with lust filled eyes as you pushed his upper body down. placing a hand on his chest for balance. you reached over with your free hand to grab the bottle of rum, bringing it to your plump lips and taking a swig. all while riding him like a cowgirl.

dean swore he almost came right there at the sight of you–boobs bouncing, his cock slipping in and out of your dripping cunt, and the golden liquid dripping down your body mixing with the sweat that made you glisten. your body jerked against his, hips bucking and shuddering as your orgasm came crashing down over you like a tidal wave.

his followed short, cock stuffed inside you, filling you up and coating your walls with a warm white substance. your body fell on top of his, skin-to-skin. his hands moved up from the bruising grip on your hips to wrap around your form.

the bottle of rum still clutched between your fingers. sand clinging to both of you. panting softly as your eyes fluttered shut. dean watched, kissing the top of your head. he gently rubbed your back, whispering sweet words into your ear. he cooed softly, telling you to rest. his cock still buried deep inside you, keeping you full.

you wouldn't have it any other way, falling asleep as the sound of his heart beat replaced any lullaby you could think of.

dean on the other hand, was thinking of all the places to fuck you next, the beach crossed off his bucket list.

authors note: I AM NOT GOOD AT WRITING SMUT!! please do not come for me if this is rlly bad 😿 i figured why not write something and then BOOM it let to this. this is not proof read so if there's bad grammar or spelling, no there's not!! I LOVE YOU ALLL 💋💋