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Most of my stories are about Jensen Ackles and the characters he portrays.
Most of the stories are 18+.
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Hi, hope you're doing good 🥰 Since requests are open, could I ask for a Garrett x reader one where she's behind the school's hockey social media account and has to do fun interviews with the guys during practice/before games etc and both have been pining after the other for ages and everyone can tell in the comments until finally he does something about it! Have a lovely day!!
Admin's Favorite - Garrett Graham
Blurb: Running Briar hockey’s social media account was supposed to keep you behind the camera, but Garrett Graham keeps finding ways to make himself impossible to ignore. The comments notice, the team makes it worse, and somewhere between cut clips and postgame interviews, you start to wonder if being admin’s favorite goes both ways.
Garrett Graham had a talent for ruining perfectly good content, though technically, every video he appeared in performed better than anything else you posted. The views climbed faster, the comments doubled, and the Briar hockey account gained followers every time he leaned into frame with that easy grin like he knew exactly what to do with a camera in his face.
The problem was not that Garrett was bad on camera. The problem was that he rarely looked at it.
He looked at you.
You had noticed it weeks ago and blamed it on the angle at first. You were the one holding the phone, so obviously his attention drifted toward you when he answered questions. That was normal. It did not mean anything. Then the comments started noticing too, which made it a lot harder to pretend you were imagining it.
Your job was to make the team look good online, not accidentally become half of Briar hockey’s favorite ongoing subplot.
You were standing near the boards during practice with your phone in one hand and your notes app open in the other, scrolling through the list of short-form videos you needed to film before Saturday’s game. Rapid fire. Guess the teammate. Pregame rituals. A few behind-the-scenes clips. Maybe one clean transition if the guys could behave long enough for you to record something usable.
That last part was already looking unlikely.
A puck hit the glass in front of you hard enough to make you jolt, and when you looked up, Garrett was skating by with an apology that did not look very apologetic. He circled back with his stick loose in one hand, face flushed from practice and hair damp under his helmet, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who had nearly shaved five years off your life.
“Sorry,” he called through the glass. “Didn’t see you there.”
“You absolutely saw me there.”
His grin widened, which was answer enough.
Since he was already hovering, you lifted your phone and started recording. “Rapid fire, Graham. Favorite pregame song?”
Garrett stopped on the other side of the glass and seemed to consider it for half a second before giving you the least helpful answer possible. “Depends on the game.”
You gave him a look over the top of your phone. “Boring answer. Favorite snack?”
“Also depends.”
“Try harder.”
His laugh carried through the glass, warm and easy, and he finally gave in. “Fine. That granola bar thing you had last week.”
You lowered the phone a little without meaning to. “You made fun of me for eating that.”
“I noticed it, didn’t I?”
That was the problem with Garrett. He could say something simple and make it feel like there was more tucked underneath it, especially when he was watching your reaction like he cared more about making you smile than getting through the question.
Behind him, Logan skated past and let out a dramatic cough that sounded suspiciously fake. Garrett did not even turn around. He only lifted one gloved hand in Logan’s direction, dismissing him without taking his attention off you.
You raised the phone again and tried to get back on track. “Favorite part of game day?”
This time, Garrett actually answered. He said something about the crowd, the energy, and the way the locker room felt right before the team stepped out onto the ice. It was a good answer, the kind you could actually use, and you were already thinking about where to cut the clip when his gaze slipped from the phone to your face.
“And the account’s gotten better this year,” he added.
You kept the phone up, though your thumb twitched near the stop button. “That wasn’t the question.”
Garrett’s mouth curved. “Still true.”
You stopped recording before your expression could betray you too clearly. He must have known exactly what he had done, because his smile softened, but instead of pushing it, he tapped his stick against the boards and skated backward.
“Make sure you get my good side, admin.”
By the time you posted the clip that afternoon, you had cut it down to the safest version. Garrett talking about game day, Garrett laughing when Logan nearly crashed into him in the background, Garrett saying the account had gotten better in a tone you convinced yourself sounded normal enough to leave in.
It took exactly eight minutes for the comments to become insufferable.
@ briarhockeyfan: he looked at admin more than the camera btw
@ campuscrushwatch: no because why did his voice get softer at the end
@ grahamcracker88: this account is now a slow burn and i support it
@ briarupdates: admin please blink twice if garrett graham is flirting with you
@ briarstudentsection: he said “still true” and i folded from my dorm room
You stared at the screen with your thumb hovering over the comment section, your face warm enough that you turned the brightness down as if that would somehow make it less obvious.
People online exaggerated everything. You knew that. They could turn a five-second clip into a full conspiracy board if they were bored enough between classes. Garrett was charming with everyone. He smiled at professors, dining hall workers, fans in the stands, and random students who stopped him on campus. He could probably get a vending machine to apologize after stealing his dollar.
That was just Garrett, you told yourself.
You repeated it later in the week when he showed up beside you before an early practice with two coffees in his hands.
The rink was still half-empty, the air cold enough that your fingers ached around your phone. You had arrived before most of the team to film quiet shots of the arena, the kind of soft, cinematic clips that made game day posts feel more polished. You were crouched near the bench, trying to get a clean shot of the logo at center ice, when a coffee appeared in front of you.
Garrett stood there in sweats and a Briar hoodie, one strap of his bag slung over his shoulder, his hair still messy like he had barely made it out of bed.
“You said the café line was crazy before eight,” he said.
You took the cup and stared at the label, realizing he had somehow gotten your order right. “I said that two weeks ago.”
“I have a decent memory.”
“You remembered my coffee order?”
“I did.” A sly smile spread across his face.
“Thank you,” you said, quieter than you meant to.
He nodded toward your phone. “You filming this morning?”
“B-roll.”
“Sounds fancy.”
“It’s literally just empty rink footage.”
“Still fancy when you say it.”
Dean’s voice carried from down the hall before he could say anything else, loud enough to make Garrett glance over his shoulder. Before he left, he nodded toward the far end of the rink where the doors always let in a brutal draft.
“You should film from this side today. Better lighting.”
You knew very well that lighting had nothing to do with it, but you looked toward the warmer side of the rink anyway. “Better lighting?”
“Definitely.”
He left you with the coffee and a smile you thought about for the rest of practice, which was embarrassing because the coffee was good, the lighting was not noticeably better, and Garrett had still somehow gotten exactly what he wanted.
The worst part was that it did not stop there.
When the rink air left your fingers stiff around your phone, Garrett started steering interviews closer to the tunnel instead of making you chase the guys along the boards, and he acted like it was only because the sound was better there. When you stayed late after a game to pack away the small tripod and mic equipment, he always seemed to come out of the locker room slowly enough to walk toward the exit at the same time. When you asked the team who was most likely to survive on a deserted island, Garrett gave your name because you “looked like you could organize everybody into staying alive,” and Dean immediately yelled from off camera that Garrett was not on the island, he was just trying to get invited.
That clip performed disgustingly well.
The comments were worse than ever.
@ briarbluecrew: dean is us and we are dean
@ rinksidebabe: garrett saying admin’s name like that. okay. okay!!!!
@ briarhockeyofficialfan: can someone make a compilation of him forgetting this is a team account
@ hockeyhousegossip: he is down horrendous
@ deansburner: admin cutting the camera every time she laughs is my favorite genre
You should have ignored it, and you really tried, but the more people commented, the more aware you became of every little thing. Garrett leaned closer when you asked him a question. Garrett found you before you found him. Garrett smiled at your laugh like he had been waiting for it. The guys snickered whenever he volunteered for segments he used to pretend were beneath him.
At first, it was funny. Sweet, even. Then one night, while editing a mic’d up practice video in the media office, you found a clip that made your chest go tight.
Garrett had been standing near Logan at the bench, helmet pushed back, mic still live on his shoulder. You were in the background of the shot, reviewing footage on your phone, unaware the camera had caught any of it.
Logan’s voice came through the audio first, amused and far too pleased with himself as he pointed out that Garrett was not exactly subtle. Garrett shoved him without looking away from where you stood, and Logan kept going, saying he could always ask you out like a normal person. Garrett told him to mind his business, but there was a laugh under it, quieter than the one he used for the camera. Then he looked down, tapped his stick once against the floor, and admitted he was working on it.
You sat very still in the glow of the computer screen.
The clip was only seven seconds long, but it would have made the internet lose its mind. You could already picture the comments, the edits, the captions, the flood of people acting like your almost-something with Garrett was public property just because it had happened near a camera. After watching it one more time, you cut it from the video and posted the final version without it, keeping that small, private moment out of everyone else’s hands.
No one knew the difference, except maybe Garrett.
The next day, he watched the edited version while sitting on the boards after practice, phone in his hand and brows lifted just enough for you to notice. You were filming a few players taking shots at an empty net when he came over, quieter than usual.
“You left out Logan being annoying.”
“Logan is annoying in every video. I have to ration it.”
Garrett studied you for a moment, and something in his expression changed into something warmer than humor. “Thanks.”
You shrugged, trying to make it casual. “It wasn’t really hockey content.”
“No,” he agreed, his voice softer around the edges. “It wasn’t.”
The way he said it made your stomach flip.
After that, you started filming him less. Not obviously, at least you hoped it was not obvious, because you still included him in team videos. Leaving Garrett Graham out of Briar hockey content would have been ridiculous, and everyone would have noticed immediately. Still, you stopped seeking him out first. You asked Tucker for more answers. You filmed Logan goofing off with Dean. You captured wide shots, team huddles, game day skates, and anything that made the account feel like the account again, not a weekly episode of everyone waiting for Garrett to finally do something.
He noticed by Thursday.
Practice had just ended, and you were packing your bag near the tunnel when his skates stopped beside you. You did not look up right away, mostly because you already knew it was him. Garrett had a way of taking up space even when he was silent.
“Did I do something?” he asked.
That made you look at him. He had changed out of his gear but not into his usual post-practice ease. His hair was still damp, his hoodie half-zipped, and there was a slight crease between his brows that made your chest squeeze.
“No,” you said quickly. “No, you didn’t do anything.”
He nodded once, but he did not look convinced. “You’ve barely pointed the camera at me all week.”
“I’ve pointed it at you.”
“For work, yeah.” He paused, glancing toward the rink, then back at you. “You stopped teasing me.”
You tightened your hand around the strap of your bag and looked past him, where a few of the guys were still lingering near the bench. They were far enough not to hear, but close enough to remind you why you had been trying to be smart about this.
“The comments were getting weird,” you admitted, and when his expression shifted, you hurried to explain before he could take it the wrong way. “Not bad weird. Just a lot. People notice everything, and I don’t want it to look like I’m making the account about you, or like I’m unprofessional, or like I’m using the team account to flirt with you.”
Saying it out loud felt worse than thinking it.
Garrett was quiet long enough that you had to look back at him.
“You’re not,” he said.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” He stepped a little closer, not enough to crowd you, just enough that his voice could stay between the two of you. “You’re good at what you do. Everybody knows that. The account is better because of you, not because I occasionally make an idiot out of myself on camera.”
You tried not to smile. “Occasionally?”
His mouth curved, but he did not take the bait. “If I made you uncomfortable, I’ll stop.”
That softened something in you immediately.
“You didn’t.”
“Good.” He looked relieved for half a second before he added, “I like making you laugh. The camera just happens to be there half the time.”
Your breath caught a little, and Garrett noticed. You could tell by the way his eyes dropped for one brief, devastating second before he looked away like he was trying not to push too much at once.
From down the hall, Dean shouted something about Garrett moving before the bus left without him. Garrett ignored him for another moment, his attention still on you.
“Film me tomorrow,” he said. “For real. I’ll answer the questions properly and everything.”
You let out a quiet laugh. “That sounds fake.”
“It probably is,” he admitted, and there he was again, warm and teasing and Garrett. “But I’ll try.”
You smiled despite yourself, and his face did something unfair in response, something bright and pleased that made you want to hide behind your phone even though you were not recording.
“See?” he said. “Worth it.”
Friday night was the big game, and the arena felt alive long before warmups started.
You moved through the familiar chaos with your phone in hand, capturing laces being tied, sticks being taped, jerseys pulled over pads, and the blur of the student section filling in beyond the glass. The team was loud in the way they always were before a game, all restless energy and shouted jokes and rituals they pretended not to take seriously.
Your segment for the night was simple. Good luck charms.
Tucker showed you the same tape job he swore he did not care about but recreated exactly every game. Logan claimed he did not need luck because he had talent, which immediately got him shoved by two teammates. Dean gave a deeply dramatic explanation about his lucky socks that you knew you would have to cut down before posting.
Then you found Garrett near the tunnel.
He was leaning against the wall with his stick in one hand and his helmet tucked under his arm, looking calmer than he had any right to be. When he saw you coming, his face changed in that familiar way that made the comments feel a little less ridiculous every time.
You lifted the phone. “Good luck charm?”
Garrett glanced at the camera, then at you. “Are you posting this?”
“That depends on whether you say something usable.”
A few weeks ago, he would have made a joke immediately, something big and easy for everyone around him to hear. Instead, he took a second, and the pause felt different enough that your grip tightened around the phone.
His eyes stayed on you.
Then his mouth curved softly, like he had decided against whatever answer had first come to mind.
“Routine,” he said. “Same tape, same warmup, same playlist. Nothing exciting.”
You knew there was more. He knew you knew.
Still, you nodded and kept your voice steady. “Very inspiring.”
“I do what I can.”
You stopped recording, and the noise of the hallway rushed back in around you. For a second, neither of you moved. Garrett shifted his stick to his other hand and leaned a little closer, his voice dropping beneath the sounds of the team behind him.
“Ask me again after the game.”
Your heart stumbled. Before you could answer, someone called his name from the locker room, and Garrett backed away with one last look at you before disappearing through the door.
You posted the pregame clip a few minutes later, and the comments started before puck drop.
@briarhockeyfan: he almost said admin. i know he almost said admin.
@studentsectionbabe: “are you posting this?” SIR WHAT WERE YOU ABOUT TO SAY
@grahamcracker88: the tension has escaped containment
@campuscrushwatch: this is my stanley cup
@briarupdates: admin cutting the clip there is criminal behavior
You did not check them again until after the game.
Briar won by two.
The last five minutes were loud enough to rattle the glass. You filmed the student section losing their minds, the team spilling over the boards, the flash of helmets and gloves, and Garrett getting tackled into a hug by Logan hard enough that both of them nearly went down.
By the time the players made it back toward the tunnel, your cheeks hurt from smiling.
You caught Garrett just outside the locker room, still breathless from the game, hair damp and face flushed, looking like he belonged to every bright, roaring part of the night.
You lifted your phone. “Three words for the win?”
For once, Garrett looked directly at the camera.
“Worth the work,” he said.
It was a good answer. Clean, simple, easy to post.
You lowered the phone with a laugh. “Who are you and what have you done with Garrett Graham?”
He smiled, softer than usual. “Told you I’d try.”
Around you, the hallway was crowded for another minute, players pushing past, coaches talking, someone yelling about food from inside the locker room. Garrett waited until the noise shifted away from you, until no one was close enough to turn the moment into a performance.
Then he nodded at your phone. “Still recording?”
You checked the screen even though you knew you had stopped it. “No.”
“Good.”
Your pulse jumped.
Garrett took one step closer, just enough to make the rest of the hallway fade into something distant. “Then I’m asking without the account, without the comments, and without Logan making faces behind me,” he said. “Let me take you out.”
For all the time you had spent wondering, all the comments you had pretended not to reread, all the coffee cups and little looks you had tried to explain away, the words still managed to knock the air from your lungs.
Garrett Graham, who could handle pressure in front of a packed arena without blinking, looked nervous. Not dramatically, not in a way anyone else would notice from down the hall, but you could see it because you had spent too much time watching him through a lens and not enough time admitting you knew his face by now.
“You want to take me out?” you asked, softer than you meant to.
His smile tugged at one corner. “I’ve wanted to take you out for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“Long enough that Logan has become emotionally invested.”
You laughed, and the relief that crossed Garrett’s face made your chest feel too full.
“Yes,” you said. “You can take me out.”
Garrett’s grin broke wide, bright and boyish in a way that made him look less like the captain everyone yelled for from the stands and more like the guy who remembered your coffee order because you had complained once before eight in the morning.
“I had a better speech planned,” he admitted, looking down for a second with a smile he could not quite hide.
You smiled too, because the idea of Garrett Graham planning anything to say to you felt almost too sweet to handle. He had spent weeks turning every camera pointed at him into an excuse to look at you, and now that he finally had your full attention with no phone between you, he seemed a little less sure of what to do with it.
“I don’t think you needed one,” you said.
Garrett looked back at you then, his expression softening in a way that made the noise from the locker room fade behind him. The win was still happening all around you, in the shouts from down the hall and the dull thud of doors opening and closing, but he was standing close enough that the rest of it felt distant.
“Good,” he said, voice quieter now. “Because I’m pretty sure I forgot half of it.”
You laughed, and that seemed to settle whatever nerves he had left. His hand lifted slowly, giving you time to move away if you wanted to, but you stayed exactly where you were as his fingers brushed lightly against your cheek.
When he leaned in, the kiss was soft. Sweet enough that it caught you off guard, even though you had spent weeks pretending you had not thought about it. His hand settled at your waist, gentle and warm, and you smiled against him before you could help it.
Garrett pulled back just enough to see your face, but not enough to let go.
“That was better than the speech,” he murmured.
You felt your smile grow. “Definitely better than the speech.”
He laughed under his breath, and this time, when he kissed you again, it was quicker, lighter, like he could not quite resist doing it once more now that he knew he was allowed.
A shout came from inside the locker room, followed by Logan’s voice calling Garrett’s name, but Garrett only closed his eyes for a second like he was trying to convince himself not to ignore all of them completely.
blurb: The morning after should have been simple, but secrets have a way of finding daylight. When everything finally comes out, you and Garrett are forced to decide whether what happened between you is something worth hiding, or something worth fighting for.
warnings: angst, Dean’s sister!reader, brother’s best friend trope, secret relationship, mentions of past smut, overprotective brother, confrontation, yelling, physical tension/altercation, hurt feelings, guilt, Garrett trying to do the right thing badly, sibling conflict, mild injury, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending.
Garrett woke up with your leg over his and sunlight cutting across your bedroom floor.
For a few seconds, he stayed still. Your face was tucked against his shoulder, your breathing soft, your hair messy from sleep. It would have been easy to pretend the house was quiet because the world had given both of you a break.
Then a cabinet slammed downstairs.
Dean’s voice carried up through the floor.
Garrett opened his eyes. “Shit.”
You stirred against him. “If he’s making breakfast, don’t eat the eggs.”
“This is not the time.”
“Relax.”
“Your brother is downstairs.”
“I’m aware.”
Garrett sat up, dragging a hand through his hair. His shirt was on the floor near the mirror, his swim trunks were half under the bed, and your bikini top was hanging off the chair like evidence.
You followed his gaze and huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t start.”
Garrett shook his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Not starting anything.”
You watched him for a second, the moment settling between you.
Then Garrett got out of bed.
You watched him pull on his swim trunks and grab his shirt. The second his expression shifted, you knew exactly where his head had gone.
“Don’t,” you said.
He paused with his shirt half-buttoned. “Don’t what?”
“Do that thing where you start looking guilty.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t want Dean finding out like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like me sneaking out of your room.”
You sat up, the sheet pulled around your chest. “Then don’t sneak.”
Garrett looked at you, and the guilt in his eyes made your stomach sink.
Before either of you could say more, a voice came from the hallway.
“Graham?”
Everything stopped.
Dean stood a few feet from the cracked door, holding a mug in one hand. His eyes moved from Garrett’s half-buttoned shirt to his bare feet, then past him to you sitting in bed.
The hallway went silent as Dean put it together slowly, then all at once.
Garrett stepped out of the room. “Dean.”
Dean shoved him hard into the wall, and the mug hit the floor and shattered.
You scrambled out of bed, grabbing Garrett’s shirt and pulling it over yourself as you rushed to the door. “Dean, stop.”
Dean didn’t look at you. His eyes stayed locked on Garrett, full of anger and something worse underneath it.
“You were in her room.”
Garrett hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
Dean’s jaw tightened. “My sister’s room.”
Garrett didn’t look away. “Yeah.”
The honesty only made Dean angrier.
He shoved Garrett again, and Garrett lifted his hands.
“I’m not fighting you.”
Dean laughed once, sharp. “How kind of you.”
“Dean, listen.”
“No.” Dean’s voice cracked through the hallway. “Don’t stand there like you weren’t lying to me all day.”
Garrett’s jaw flexed. “I should have told you.”
Dean swung.
Garrett caught his arm on instinct, and that was all it took. Dean shoved forward, Garrett pushed him back for space, and suddenly they were grabbing at each other in the hallway, shoulders slamming into the wall hard enough to make something rattle downstairs.
“Stop it!” you snapped.
Neither of them listened.
Dean got one punch in, catching Garrett across the mouth. Garrett’s head turned with the hit, but he still didn’t swing back. Blood appeared at his lip, and your whole body went hot.
“Dean!”
Footsteps thundered down the hall.
Logan appeared first, hair a mess, eyes wide. “What the hell?”
Tucker was right behind him. He took one look at Dean, Garrett, the blood, and you in Garrett’s shirt, then moved fast.
“Enough,” Tucker said, grabbing Dean from behind and pulling him back.
Dean fought against his hold. “Let go.”
“Not while you’re trying to put him through a wall.”
Logan stepped between Dean and Garrett, hands up. “Everybody breathe.”
Dean pointed at Garrett over Tucker’s arm. “He slept with my sister.”
Logan froze, his eyes flicked to you.
“Oh.”
Garrett wiped at his mouth and looked down at the blood on his thumb.
Dean saw that and laughed, but it sounded more hurt than angry. “Say something.”
Garrett lifted his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you’ve got?”
You stepped forward. “Don’t do that.”
Dean finally looked at you. “Don’t do what?”
“Act like he did this alone.”
Dean’s face tightened. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“Well, you’re going to.”
Garrett said your name quietly, but you ignored him.
Dean’s breathing was still too hard. “So what was it? You kissed? Messed around? What exactly am I supposed to be mad about?”
Something in you snapped.
“Ugh, yes, we fucked, Dean!”
The hallway went dead silent.
Logan’s eyes widened.
Tucker closed his eyes like he wished he could disappear.
Garrett looked at you immediately.
Dean went still.
You were too angry to take it back.
“We fucked. I wanted him. He wanted me. I invited him into my room, and I’m not standing here while you beat the shit out of him like I’m something he stole from you.”
Dean stared at you. “You’re my sister.”
“I know,” you said. “You keep saying that like it means I stop being a person.”
That landed.
Dean looked away first.
Garrett moved slightly toward you, then stopped. You saw the guilt settle over his face, the same guilt from that morning, the same one from months ago.
Your chest tightened.
“Don’t,” you said to him.
His brows pulled together.
“Do not pull away from me right now because you feel bad.”
Garrett swallowed. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
Dean’s gaze cut back to Garrett. “You pulled away from her?”
Garrett didn’t answer.
Your voice dropped. “He did it before too.”
Garrett looked at you then, wounded and guilty, but you were too hurt to soften it.
Dean’s anger shifted. “You did this before?”
Garrett looked at him. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Garrett glanced at you, then back at Dean. “Because I was scared of this.”
Dean breathed out hard. “You should have been.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.” Dean’s voice went rough. “I stood there yesterday and said nobody touches my sister, and you stood there like you hadn’t already done it.”
Garrett didn’t defend himself.
“I know,” he said.
The fight went out of Dean’s face all at once, leaving only the hurt behind.
He pulled out of Tucker’s hold. This time, Tucker let him.
“I can’t look at either of you right now.”
Your chest tightened. “Dean.”
“No.” His voice was quieter now. “I need space.”
He walked away before anyone could stop him.
The hours after that were awful.
The house turned too quiet. Logan stopped making jokes. Tucker cleaned the broken mug from the hallway. Allie came to your room, wrapped you in a hug, and didn’t ask you to explain before you were ready.
Garrett kept away.
Not gone. You heard him downstairs, low-voiced with Tucker, then outside with Logan. But he didn’t come to you.
By late afternoon, you found him in the kitchen with an ice pack against his mouth.
He looked up when you walked in.
“Hey.”
You leaned against the island. “That’s what you’re going with?”
Garrett lowered the ice pack. “I don’t know what else to say.”
“You could start with why you disappeared.”
“I was giving you space.”
“I didn’t ask for space.”
He exhaled. “I know.”
You stared at him, hurt sitting heavy in your chest. “You did it again.”
His face tightened.
“You decided backing off was the right thing,” you said. “You did it after the first time, and you did it again this morning.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know.” Your voice cracked, and you hated it. “That’s the problem. You keep hurting me by trying so hard not to.”
Garrett set the ice pack down.
For a moment, he just looked at you.
Then he came around the island slowly, stopping close enough to touch but not touching yet.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Not because Dean found out. Not because he hit me. I’m sorry because you asked me not to disappear, and I did anyway.”
Your throat tightened.
“I don’t want you to feel like a secret,” he said.
“Then don’t make me one.”
“I won’t.”
He reached for your hand carefully, giving you time to pull away.
You didn’t.
His fingers slipped through yours.
“I want you,” he said. “Not just when no one is looking. Not just when it’s easy. Not just when Dean doesn’t know.”
Your chest ached.
“You better mean that.”
“I do.”
Before you could answer, Dean’s voice came from the doorway.
“I really hate walking into rooms now.”
You and Garrett turned.
Dean stood there in shorts and a wrinkled shirt, hair messy from the wind, expression tired in a way you weren’t used to seeing on him. His eyes dropped to your joined hands.
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t yell. Garrett started to let go, and you held tighter. Dean noticed, and for a few seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Dean looked at Garrett. “I’m still pissed.”
Garrett nodded. “I know.”
“I hate that you lied.”
“I know.”
“I hate that you let me look like an idiot.”
You opened your mouth, but Dean looked at you first.
“And yeah,” he said, quieter. “I know I was hurt.”
That stopped you.
Dean rubbed a hand over his face, then looked back at Garrett.
“I hate that it’s you.”
Garrett’s expression tightened.
Dean exhaled hard. “And I hate that if it was going to be anyone, I’d probably want it to be you.”
You blinked.
Garrett looked just as surprised.
Dean pointed at both of you. “Do not look relieved. I’m still mad.”
“I wasn’t,” Garrett said.
Dean stared.
Garrett cleared his throat. “A little.”
“Idiot.”
“Fair.”
Dean looked at you then, and his anger softened around the edges.
“You’re happy?”
Your throat tightened.
You glanced at Garrett. He was looking at you without hiding now, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.
“I think I could be,” you said.
Dean hated that answer. You could see it on his face. Not because it was wrong, but because it was honest.
He nodded once, sharp and reluctant.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” you asked.
“Fine,” Dean repeated, then pointed at Garrett. “But if you break her heart, I’m not fighting you in the hallway next time.”
Garrett nodded solemnly. “No?”
“No, this time I'm killing you.”
“That’s worse.”
“It’s supposed to be.”
You almost smiled.
Dean saw it. “Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re thinking about it.”
“A little.”
His mouth twitched before he could stop it.
Then he looked at Garrett again, serious now. “Don’t make her feel stupid for trusting you.”
Garrett’s hand tightened around yours. “I won’t.”
Dean studied him for a moment, then nodded once.
“I need air.”
“You were just outside,” you said.
“I need different air.”
He turned to leave, pausing just long enough to brush your shoulder on the way past.
Small. Barely anything.
But from Dean, right then, it felt like an apology.
When the kitchen went quiet again, Garrett was still holding your hand.
This time, he didn’t let go.
“You okay?” he asked.
You nodded. “Yeah.”
You tilted your face up. “You’re still a bad idea, Graham.”
His smile brushed your mouth. “Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
He kissed you once, light and lingering.
“But not one I’m walking away from,” he said.
For once, you believed him.
Outside, Dean groaned loudly enough for both of you to hear.
“I hate this already.”
Garrett kissed you again.
You smiled against his mouth.
“Me too,” you called back.
Dean made a wounded sound from the patio, Logan laughed, and somehow, impossibly, the house started to feel like a vacation again.
blurb: garrett graham keeps showing up at the diner near closing, and you keep telling yourself he’s only being nice. but when he offers you a ride home after your late shift, you realize he’s been waiting for more than just last call.
warnings: 18+ only, smut, sexual content, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie ,praise, teasing, slight insecurity/out-of-his-league thoughts, garrett being confident and protective, late-night diner setting, slight public/semi-public risk
You knew Garrett Graham's order by heart, which was embarrassing for a lot of reasons.
One, because he was just a customer.
Two, because you had never once written it down after the first night.
And three, because Garrett Graham was the kind of guy a girl like you was supposed to admire from a safe distance, preferably while pretending not to admire him at all.
He came into the diner late, always late, usually with cold air rushing in behind him and three other hockey players crowding around his shoulders like trouble had learned how to walk on two legs. Logan was always talking first, Dean was always laughing too loudly, Tucker always looked like he knew exactly what everyone else was thinking, and Garrett—
Garrett Graham walked in like every room had been waiting for him.
Tonight was no different.
The bell above the diner door gave a weak little jingle at half past midnight, and you looked up from wiping down the counter just in time to see them spill inside, still flushed from the cold, hair messy from the wind, jackets half-zipped, laughing about something that probably involved either hockey, alcohol, or somebody making a bad decision.
Garrett was at the center of it, broad-shouldered and grinning, with a faint bruise near his jaw and snow melting in his dark hair.
You looked down before he caught you staring.
That was the rule.
Look once. Maybe twice, if he was distracted. Never long enough for him to notice.
"Please tell me you still have pie," Dean said, dropping into their usual booth like he was personally offended by the concept of closing hours.
"We close in forty-five minutes," you said, grabbing menus they never used.
"So that's a yes?" Logan asked.
"That's a 'you're lucky I haven't locked the door already.'"
Tucker smiled, quiet and polite. "Good to see you too."
You liked Tucker. Tucker tipped well and didn't make you feel like your pulse was doing something stupid.
Garrett slid into the booth last, stretching one arm along the back of it. He watched you approach with that easy, lazy confidence that made your stomach tighten before he even opened his mouth.
"Hey," he said.
One word. That was it.
Ridiculous.
"Hey," you said, setting the menus down. "Usual?"
Logan's head snapped toward Garrett. Dean's grin spread instantly.
Garrett didn't look away from you. "You remember?"
You gave him a look, trying to keep your face calm. "You've ordered the same thing every time you've come in."
"Maybe I like hearing you say it."
Dean made a choking noise into his hand.
You ignored the heat climbing up your neck. "Burger, no tomato, extra fries, chocolate shake."
Garrett's smile tilted. "See? Perfect."
You told yourself he meant the order.
Obviously he meant the order.
You turned before he could see your face betray you, but you heard Logan whisper, not quietly enough, "Dude."
Garrett kicked him under the table.
The diner was quiet except for them. It usually was at that hour. The after-bar rush had already come and gone, leaving behind sticky tabletops, half-empty ketchup bottles, and a tired yellow glow from the lights above the counter. Outside, the parking lot was nearly empty, the neon sign buzzing red against the black windows.
You put in their order and busied yourself refilling coffee, stacking clean mugs, pretending you didn't feel Garrett's attention every time you crossed the floor.
That was the thing about him. Garrett looked at people like he meant it. Like he had never accidentally done anything in his life. When he smiled at customers, they smiled back. When he joked with the cook, even the cook softened. When he said your name, you had to remind yourself it was probably because he'd read it off your name tag the first time and had a good memory.
Not because he cared.
Not because he noticed you.
Girls like you did not get noticed by Garrett Graham.
Girls like you served his booth, took his tip, and watched him leave with the kind of girls who belonged in his world.
Pretty girls. Loud girls. Confident girls who knew exactly how to lean into him when they laughed.
You knew how to balance three plates along one arm and how to smile when men twice your age called you sweetheart. That was about it.
When you brought their food over, Dean and Logan were arguing about whether one of their teammates had actually hooked up with twins or had just lied so badly that everyone let him keep the story out of pity. Tucker was shaking his head. Garrett was quiet for once, leaning back with his eyes on you.
You set his plate down in front of him.
"Extra fries," you said.
His fingers brushed yours when he reached for the plate.
It was nothing. Barely contact.
Still, your breath hitched.
Garrett noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His gaze flicked up to yours, sharp and amused, but not cruel. "Careful."
You pulled your hand back. "I'm the one carrying hot food. Pretty sure you're the one who should be careful."
Logan laughed. "Oh, I like her."
Garrett's eyes stayed on you. "Yeah. Me too."
For one awful second, you forgot how to move.
Then Dean whistled low, and you snapped back into yourself.
"Enjoy your food," you said quickly, turning away.
You made it halfway to the counter before you heard Tucker murmur, "Subtle."
Garrett muttered something back, too low for you to catch.
You spent the next twenty minutes pretending to clean things that were already clean.
Every time you glanced over, Garrett was either eating, laughing, or looking at you like he was waiting for you to look back. It made you feel too aware of yourself. Of the old diner dress you wore under your apron. Of your tired feet. Of the way your hair had started slipping loose after a long shift. Of the fact that you probably smelled like coffee and fryer oil instead of perfume.
At one point, Dean asked for more napkins, and when you brought them over, he leaned forward with a grin that could only mean trouble.
"So," he said, "what time do you get off?"
Garrett's head turned so fast it was almost funny.
You froze with the napkins in your hand.
Logan coughed into his fist. Tucker looked down at his plate like he was trying very hard not to laugh.
Dean blinked innocently. "What? I meant because we're keeping her here late."
"No, you didn't," Garrett said.
Dean's grin widened. "No, I didn't."
You should have been mortified. Maybe you were. But Garrett looked genuinely irritated, and that caught you off guard more than the joke did.
"It's fine," you said lightly, setting the napkins down. "I'm used to customers being annoying."
Dean put a hand over his chest. "That hurts."
"It was supposed to."
Garrett smiled then, but it was smaller than usual. Warmer, maybe. Like he liked that you didn't fold under the teasing.
You went back behind the counter before you could think too much about it.
Eventually, the boys finished eating. Logan tried to steal the last of Garrett's fries and nearly got stabbed with a fork. Dean left a dramatic tip in quarters until Tucker silently replaced it with actual bills. They got up in a loud, chaotic wave of scraping boots and zipped jackets.
You were carrying a stack of plates when they headed for the door.
"Night," Tucker called.
"Don't miss us too much," Dean added.
"Impossible," you said.
Logan laughed and pushed him outside.
Garrett lingered.
Not long enough for it to be obvious to anyone else, maybe. But long enough for you to notice.
He stood near the end of the counter, hands in his jacket pockets, watching you with an expression you couldn't quite read.
"You done soon?" he asked.
You glanced toward the clock. "After I clean up."
"By yourself?"
"It's a diner, Graham. Not a war zone."
His mouth tugged at the corner. "You walk home?"
You hesitated.
That was answer enough.
Garrett's smile faded a little. "You walk home this late?"
"It's not far."
"That wasn't what I asked."
You shifted the plates in your hands, suddenly self-conscious. "I've done it plenty of times."
He looked toward the window, where the parking lot sat dark and mostly empty beneath the buzzing neon sign. Then he looked back at you.
"I'll wait."
Your stomach flipped. "You don't have to do that."
"I know."
"I'm serious. I still have closing stuff. It'll take a while."
"Good thing I'm patient."
You almost laughed. "You?"
Garrett grinned again, and there he was. Easy. Cocky. Impossible. "I can be."
"Somehow I doubt that."
"Guess I'll prove you wrong."
You stared at him for half a second too long. Then you looked away, busying yourself with the plates.
"Suit yourself," you said, hoping your voice sounded normal.
It did not feel normal, having Garrett Graham sitting at the counter while you closed. He didn't make it easier either. He took off his jacket and draped it over the stool beside him, sleeves pushed up his forearms, watching you move around the diner like he had nothing better to do.
You flipped chairs onto tables. He helped with the ones near the windows before you could tell him not to.
"You're going to get me in trouble," you said.
"For helping?"
"For touching things."
He held up his hands. "My mistake. Wouldn't want to ruin your very complicated chair system."
"There is a system."
"I believe you."
"No, you don't."
"No," he admitted, smiling. "But I like listening to you explain it."
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling before you could stop yourself.
That was the problem with him. He made it too easy. He talked to you like you weren't just the girl bringing him coffee at one in the morning. He asked how long you'd worked there. He remembered that you hated the graveyard shifts but liked the quiet after everyone left. He noticed the little bandage on your thumb and asked if you'd cut yourself.
He noticed too much.
By the time you locked the register and grabbed your coat from the back, the diner had settled into silence. Garrett waited near the door, his broad frame outlined by the neon glow bleeding through the glass.
"You really waited," you said softly.
His brows drew together like the idea of leaving had never occurred to him. "I said I would."
Something about that made your chest feel too tight.
You turned off the last row of lights and stepped outside with him. The cold hit immediately, sharp enough to make you suck in a breath. Garrett noticed that too. Before you could protest, he shrugged off his jacket and held it open.
"Put it on."
"I have a coat."
"You have a thin piece of fabric pretending to be a coat."
"It works fine."
He gave you a look.
You lasted three seconds before taking his jacket.
It was warm from him, heavy over your shoulders, and it smelled like soap, cold air, and something clean you didn't want to think about too closely. You tugged it tighter around yourself as he locked the diner door behind you after you handed him the keys, then gave them back with a little twirl around his finger.
His Jeep was parked beneath the diner sign.
Of course it was.
You had noticed it before. More than once. Black, slightly dirty from winter roads, somehow fitting him perfectly. He opened the passenger door for you, and you paused.
Garrett looked over. "What?"
"You don't have to drive me home."
His mouth curved. "You already said that."
"And you ignored it."
"Because it was stupid."
You blinked. "Excuse me?"
"It's late. It's freezing. You're tired. I have a car." He leaned one arm on the open door, looking entirely too comfortable. "Let me give you a ride."
The pause that followed was small.
Tiny, really.
But the way his mouth twitched told you he heard it too.
Your cheeks heated despite the cold. "You're enjoying that wording a little too much."
Garrett's grin spread slowly. "I wasn't going to say anything."
"Liar."
"Yeah," he said, voice dipping just enough to make your stomach flutter. "Probably."
You climbed into the Jeep before you could embarrass yourself further.
The inside was warm, the seats worn leather, the faint scent of him everywhere. Garrett shut your door and walked around the front, and you used those few seconds to breathe like a normal person.
It did not help.
He slid into the driver's seat, close enough that the whole Jeep seemed to shrink around him. His knee nearly brushed yours when he started the engine. The heater kicked on with a low hum, blowing warm air over your cold hands.
"Where to?" he asked.
You gave him your address, and he repeated the street name like he was committing it to memory.
The drive should have been simple. Five minutes, maybe seven with the lights. But the air inside the Jeep felt too charged, too quiet in the aftermath of the diner. Outside, the streets were slick and empty, glowing under streetlights. Inside, Garrett's hand rested on the gearshift, fingers relaxed, and you tried very hard not to stare.
"You're quiet," he said after a minute.
"I'm tired."
"Is that the only reason?"
You looked out the window. "What other reason would there be?"
He huffed a laugh. "I don't know. You tell me."
You could feel him glancing over at you between looks at the road. You wished he wouldn't. You wished he would keep doing it forever.
"It's just weird," you admitted.
"What is?"
"This."
"Me driving?"
"You driving me."
"Why?"
You picked at the sleeve of his jacket. It swallowed your hands. "Because you're Garrett Graham."
He was quiet for a beat.
Then, "That supposed to explain something?"
You laughed under your breath, but it came out nervous. "It explains a lot."
"Not to me."
Of course not.
You glanced over at him. The passing streetlights cut across his face in flashes, catching the strong line of his jaw, the bruise near his cheek, the curve of his mouth. He looked unreal like that, one hand on the wheel, hair messy, eyes focused but soft at the edges.
You looked away first.
"It means guys like you don't usually wait around after closing to drive girls like me home."
The Jeep slowed.
You immediately regretted saying it.
Garrett pulled into the empty side lot behind a closed laundromat, tires crunching lightly over old snow. He put the Jeep in park but left the engine running. The heater hummed between you.
Your pulse started climbing.
He turned in his seat to face you. "Girls like you?"
You swallowed. "Garrett—"
"No, I want to hear this." His voice wasn't harsh, but it had lost the teasing edge. "What does that mean?"
"It means..." You let out a breath, embarrassed now. "It means you could have anyone."
His brows lifted slightly. "And?"
"And I'm not exactly the kind of girl people expect to see you with."
"People?"
"You know what I mean."
"I really don't."
You gave him a look. "Yes, you do."
Garrett stared at you, and for once, he didn't look amused. He looked almost offended, but not at you. More like he hated the thought itself.
"You think I've been coming into that diner for the fries?"
You blinked.
His mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed serious. "They're good fries. Not that good."
Your chest tightened.
"I thought you were just being nice," you said.
"I'm nice to old ladies and kids selling raffle tickets." He leaned a little closer. "I flirt with you."
"You flirt with everyone."
"Not like that."
You wanted to believe him. That was the dangerous part. You wanted to believe him so badly that it scared you.
"Garrett," you said softly, "you don't have to say all this."
"I know."
There it was again.
I know.
Like wanting you was not an accident. Like being here with you was not charity or boredom or a joke his friends would laugh about tomorrow.
He reached across the center console, slow enough that you could pull away if you wanted to. His fingers touched the edge of his jacket where it sat around your shoulders, tugging it a little closer around you.
"I've been trying to get you to look at me for weeks," he said.
You let out a small, disbelieving laugh. "I look at you all the time."
His gaze dropped to your mouth. "Not when I can see it."
Your breath caught.
The windows had started to fog at the edges, the cold night pressing in from outside while the heater filled the Jeep with warmth. You could hear the soft rumble of the engine. You could see the diner sign in the distance, still glowing faintly red across the lot.
Garrett's hand stayed near your collar, his knuckles brushing the side of your neck.
"You really didn't know?" he asked.
You shook your head.
Something changed in his expression.
Not smugness. Not victory.
Want.
Clear and focused and enough to make your whole body go still.
"I know now," you whispered.
His eyes darkened.
"Yeah?" he asked.
You nodded, barely.
Garrett leaned in slowly at first, giving you every chance to stop him. You didn't. You couldn't. The space between you disappeared inch by inch until his mouth brushed yours, once, light enough to make your heart stumble.
Then again.
Deeper.
Your hand found the front of his shirt before you realized you had moved. Garrett made a low sound against your mouth, and that was all it took for the kiss to change. His hand slid into your hair, angling your face up as he kissed you harder, like every quiet look across the diner had been leading to this exact moment.
You forgot the cold. Forgot the empty lot. Forgot every reason you had ever convinced yourself he was too far out of reach.
There was only Garrett, warm and solid and kissing you like he had been waiting all night to stop being careful.
Garrett pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead nearly touching yours, his hand still firm at your waist. The space between you felt too small now, every inch of it getting in the way. His eyes dropped to your mouth again, darker than before, and when his thumb slipped beneath the edge of his jacket on your shoulders, your breath caught.
"Tell me to stop," he said, low enough that it barely carried over the hum of the heater.
You shook your head before you could think better of it. "Don't."
Something in his expression shifted, the last bit of restraint leaving him.
Then he kissed you again, and there was nothing gentle about it anymore.
His hand tightened at your waist, pulling you closer as far as the front seat would allow. Your own hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders, feeling the hard strength of him under your palms. The kiss turned messy, impatient, full of weeks of pretending you hadn't noticed him and one night of Garrett proving he had noticed everything.
When his mouth moved along your jaw, your head tipped back against the seat.
"Garrett," you breathed.
He went still for half a second.
Then he pulled back just enough to look at you, his breathing uneven, his eyes dark and fixed on yours like he was giving you one last chance to tell him no.
You didn't.
You reached for him again.
Garrett's restraint snapped in his expression first.
"Back seat," he rasped against your lips. "Now."
He shoved your shirt up, his mouth finding your neck, kissing and biting until your back arched and his name slipped out of you.
He worked your pants down with impatient hands, like he had been trying not to touch you all night and had finally run out of reasons not to. When he freed himself, he was already hard and slick at the tip. You reached down, your fingers wrapping around him, and he let out a choked sound, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Please," you whispered, your own legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush against you. "Garrett, please."
He didn't make you wait. He guided himself against you, paused just long enough to look at your face, and then pushed in with one deep, steady thrust. You gasped, your eyes widening at the sheer size of him filling you completely. Your breath caught at the feel of him, your fingers tightening in his shirt.
"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face in your shoulder. "You're so tight… so fucking perfect."
He began to move, the rhythm frantic. Because of the cramped space, every thrust was deep, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through your entire body. The Jeep shifted beneath you, the small cabin filled with rough breathing, quiet curses, and the low hum of the heater.
You clung to him, your nails digging into the muscles of his back. Every time he pushed into you, you felt how much he wanted you, the way he was focusing entirely on your reactions.
"Do you believe me now?" he panted, his pace increasing, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you know how much I want you?"
"Yes," you cried out, your voice breaking. "Yes, I do!"
The pleasure built until you couldn't hold it back anymore. You tightened around him, and Garrett groaned against your neck, holding you close as he came inside you. He collapsed against you, his chest heaving, both of you breathless.
For a long time, the only sound was your breathing and the ticking of the cooling engine. Garrett didn't pull away immediately; he stayed tucked against you, his heart drumming against your ribs.
Slowly, he pulled back, a cocky, satisfied smirk returning to his face, though his eyes were soft. He reached down, gently helping you pull your clothes back together, his fingers lingering on your skin.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice returning to that low, steady tone. He reached over to the front seat, grabbing a hoodie and draping it over your shoulders.
You laughed softly, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the heater. "I think I'm okay."
He kissed your forehead, then leaned back just enough to look at you like he still wasn't done proving his point.
"So," he said, his tone teasing. "I think I might need to start coming to the diner more often. Maybe every day."
You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "You might get banned from my section, Graham."
He chuckled, squeezing your hand. "Worth it. Besides, I think I owe you another ride home soon. Maybe somewhere with a bed next time."
He winked, and for the first time, you didn't feel like he was out of your league. You felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.
Blurb: You’ve been avoiding Dean Di Laurentis for over a week, and he is taking it about as well as expected. But when his dramatic little rant gets interrupted by the one thing neither of you saw coming, Dean has to prove there is more to him than jokes, charm, and terrible timing.
Warnings: pregnancy scare, fear of being alone, emotional conversation, casual relationship turning serious, anxious reader, dean being dramatic but sweet.
You had been avoiding Dean Di Laurentis for nine days.
Not because he had done anything wrong.
For once.
Your period was late. Not late enough to be certain of anything, but late enough that your stomach had been in knots for days. Every time Dean texted, called, or sent some dramatic Snapchat about your “cruel disappearance,” you turned your phone facedown and told yourself you would answer him later.
Later kept getting pushed back.
By day nine, Dean stopped waiting.
The knock at your apartment door came just after seven.
“I know you’re in there,” he called through the door. “Your TV is on, your car is outside, and I’m way too charming to be ignored this aggressively.”
You squeezed your eyes shut.
Another knock.
“I will start singing.”
You crossed the room fast. “Don’t.”
There was a pause.
“Aha,” he said. “So she lives.”
You opened the door.
Dean stood in the hallway in a Briar hoodie, looking far too good for someone who was clearly annoyed. His eyes moved over you quickly, taking in your face, your sweatpants, and the hoodie you were wearing.
His hoodie.
“Wow,” he said. “Look at that. She remembers I exist.”
“Dean.”
“No, no, this is good. I was starting to think I made you up. A whole woman who steals my clothes and then ghosts me like I’m some random guy with bad hair and a podcast.”
You stepped back to let him in. “I didn’t ghost you.”
Dean walked inside and turned around, looking deeply offended.
“You didn’t ghost me?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Busy?” he repeated. “That’s your defense?”
“It’s an answer.”
“It’s a terrible answer.” He pointed at you as he started pacing. “You ignored eight texts, four calls, and one vulnerable Snapchat.”
“The one where you zoomed in on your face and asked if I still cared about your emotional well-being?”
“That took courage.”
“It took boredom.”
“It took both.” He stopped in front of you, his frustration slipping just enough for you to hear the worry underneath. “You can’t just disappear on me. Garrett asked if I pissed you off and I didn’t even know what to say. Do you understand how humiliating it is for me to not know something?”
Your throat tightened as Dean kept going, too wound up to notice.
“And no one avoids Dean Di Laurentis. People seek me out. People circle back. People pretend they didn’t see me when we both know they absolutely saw me. I’m visible from space.”
“Dean.”
“If this is about that girl at Malone’s, I swear I told her I was there with someone. You were in the bathroom, so she may not have believed me, but I was noble. Hot, obviously, but noble.”
“I might be pregnant.”
Dean stopped completely.
His mouth stayed slightly open. His eyes widened, and for once in his life, no joke came out.
The silence scared you more than his ranting had.
“I’m sorry,” you rushed out. “I should’ve told you sooner. I know that. I just didn’t know how, and I kept thinking maybe I was overreacting, but then it kept getting later and I got scared, and we’re not even really—”
“Stop.”
His voice was quiet.
You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I didn’t want you to feel trapped.”
Dean crossed the room before you could say anything else.
Then his arms were around you.
You froze at first, surprised by how fast he pulled you in, but his hand slid up your back and held you there.
A shaky breath left you, and you grabbed the front of his hoodie.
“You don’t have to go through something like this alone,” he said.
“I was so scared,” you whispered.
“I know.”
“I didn’t know what you’d do.”
Dean pulled back just enough to look at you. His face was pale under the tan, but he stayed close.
“I don’t know what I’d do,” he admitted. “My brain is currently running around with no pants on. But I know I’m not leaving you alone with it.”
You let out a giggle.
His mouth twitched. “That was not my best line, but I stand by the meaning.”
You wiped your cheek with the sleeve of his hoodie.
“Have you taken a test?” he asked.
You shook your head.
Dean blinked. “You’ve been sitting with this for over a week and haven’t taken a test?”
“I couldn’t.”
His expression softened.
“Okay,” he said. “Then we get one.”
“Now?”
“No, next spring.” He winced immediately. “Sorry. Bad joke. I’m panicking and my mouth has become hostile.”
Despite everything, you laughed again.
Dean reached for your hand. “Shoes. We’re going to CVS before I start Googling symptoms and convince myself I’m pregnant too.”
Five minutes later, he was standing by your door in a baseball cap and sunglasses.
You stared at him as it was dark outside.
“Dean.”
“What?”
“You look insane.”
“I look normal enough.”
You rolled your eyes, but the knot in your chest loosened a little.
At CVS, Dean kept the sunglasses on until you reached the pregnancy test aisle.
Then he took them off and stared at the shelves like he had been asked to solve a crime.
“Why are there so many?”
You covered your mouth.
“No, seriously.” He stepped closer, squinting at the boxes. “How many ways do we need to find out if there’s a tiny Di Laurentis in there?”
“Dean.”
“What’s the difference between this one and that one?”
“That one is digital.”
“So it speaks English?”
“It says pregnant or not pregnant.”
“Great. Better than interpreting emotional hieroglyphics while I’m on the verge of a medical event.”
You laughed for the first time all night without feeling like you might cry.
Dean turned to look at you, and his face softened before he could hide it.
“Don’t look too impressed,” he said. “I’m still wildly unqualified.”
“I can tell.”
He grabbed one box, then another.
“One is enough,” you said.
“Or it could be wrong.”
“Pregnancy tests don’t just make things up.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“Dean.”
“I’m getting two.” He paused, then grabbed a third. “Three.”
“You’re panicking.”
“I’m a thorough panicker.”
At the register, he added sour gummy worms to the counter.
You looked at him. “What are those?”
“Emotional support worms.”
The cashier’s mouth twitched.
You wanted to disappear. You also wanted to kiss him.
Back at your apartment, the air felt heavier again.
Dean set the CVS bag on the counter and looked at you.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Me neither.”
That honesty hit harder than another joke would have.
You took one test and went into the bathroom. Dean stayed outside the door.
“You good?” he called.
“I’m reading the instructions.”
“Right. Literacy first.”
You huffed, then took the test with shaking hands.
When you were done, you set it on the counter and opened the door.
Dean was sitting on the floor outside the bathroom, elbows on his knees, phone in his hand.
He stood immediately.
“How long?”
“Three minutes.”
He set a timer. “Great. Three minutes. That’s nothing.”
A beat passed.
“That’s a lie. Three minutes is forever. You can ruin your whole life in three minutes. You can burn toast and set off the smoke alarm. You can scroll through your ex’s Instagram and make terrible decisions.”
“Dean.”
“Sorry. Filtering broke.”
You leaned against the bathroom doorway, arms wrapped around yourself.
Dean stopped pacing.
His face changed when he looked at you, and he stepped closer but stayed outside the bathroom.
“Whatever it says, we figure it out,” he said. “You hear me?”
You looked down. “You keep saying that.”
“Because I mean it.”
“You don’t know what you’d do.”
“I know I’d freak out,” he said. “Probably in several creative ways. I might call Tucker and say words he can never unhear. I might buy a parenting book written by someone named Linda. I might vomit.”
That pulled a tiny laugh out of you.
“But I won’t leave,” he said. “That part I know.”
The timer went off, your heart dropping as Dean went still.
You turned back into the bathroom and picked up the test. The words were right there on the little screen.
You opened the door and held it out.
Dean snatched it from your hand, then stared down at it.
His shoulders dropped all at once.
“Not pregnant,” he breathed.
You nodded.
For one second, neither of you moved.
Then Dean sagged against the wall and covered his face with one hand.
“Thank fuck.”
You laughed, shaky and relieved. “Yeah.”
“No, I mean that in every possible way.” He lowered his hand, looking dazed. “Spiritually. Emotionally. Academically.”
“Academically?”
“I don’t know. I’m overwhelmed.”
You laughed harder, and he pulled you into his arms again.
You buried your face against his chest, feeling the last nine days loosen all at once.
Dean held you for a long moment, his chin resting against your hair.
Then he exhaled.
“I’m buying condoms in bulk,” he said. “Costco-level commitment. I’m going to have a rewards card.”
You burst out laughing into his hoodie.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I’m going to be the most prepared man in Massachusetts.”
“That’s not something to brag about.”
“It is after what I just survived.” He pulled back, still holding you. “Honestly, I may glue one to my dick.”
“Ew what? Please don’t.”
“Fine. Tape?”
“Dean.”
“Okay, no adhesives. I’m listening.”
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself.
Dean nodded, then brushed his thumb along your jaw.
“Next time you’re scared, you come to me before making me chase you around like a rejected frat boy.”
“You were kind of acting like one.”
For once, he seemed to actually think before speaking.
“I don’t want to do the casual thing if casual means you think you can’t call me when something matters,” he said.
Your heart shifted.
“You don’t?”
“No.” His mouth tipped into a small smile. “I like you.”
You raised an eyebrow.
He winced. “That sounded sixth grade as hell. I’m aware.”
You laughed softly.
“I mean I like you,” he said. “Not just the fun parts. I like being here. I like that you steal my hoodies and pretend my jokes are worse than they are.”
“They are pretty bad.”
“And yet you laugh.” He leaned closer. “I want you. In a way where you don’t hide from me when things get complicated.”
You stared at him for a second.
“That sounds like dating.”
Dean gasped lightly. “Dating? Wow. Forward. Scandalous.”
“You brought it up.”
“I did not use the word dating. You did. But since you’re clearly obsessed with locking me down—”
“Dean.”
His grin softened. “Yeah. It sounds like dating.”
You nodded. “Okay.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
Dean smiled so wide it made your chest ache.
“Great,” he said. “Cool. Very normal reaction from me.”
“You’re smiling like an idiot.”
“I got a girlfriend and a negative pregnancy test in the same night. This is elite emotional whiplash.”
You laughed, and he kissed your forehead.
A little later, you were curled against him in bed with the sour gummy worms between you and his hoodie still wrapped around your body. Dean held your hand under the blanket, his thumb moving slowly over your knuckles.
The fear had not completely vanished, but it no longer had you alone in a quiet apartment, staring at a phone you were too afraid to answer.
Now it had Dean beside you, warm and ridiculous and impossible.
“Hey,” he murmured.
“Yeah?”
“I’m still ordering condoms tomorrow.”
You groaned. “Dean.”
“In bulk,” he said. “Costco-level commitment.”
“You don’t even have a Costco membership.”
“I’ll get one.” He kissed the top of your head. “I’m a provider now.”
“You provided gummy worms.”
“Emotional support worms,” he corrected.
You laughed into his chest, and Dean held you a little tighter.
For the first time in nine days, you finally believed him.
Dean's been at it for over an hour, head between your thighs, tongue inside your cunt.
You've cum more times than you can count- they've got it at every angle now, every sound you can imagine, moaning, gasping, begging. It's almost getting ridiculous at this point- you know they won't use all the footage.
But you're also not gonna stop him. You're not sure you've ever felt like this- it's overwhelming in the best way possible, your whole body feels like syrup, you're soaking over him, over the sheets. You'd be sobbing by now if you weren't so painfully aware of the camera only inches from your face.
He pushes his fingers into you again, deep and hard, curling in a way that makes your head spin.
Your hips lift off the mattress, he grabs hold of you quick, pushing you back down hard, "Stay still-"
You know they'll keep that. They'll make sure to keep anything he says. Those are always the parts that get the most replays- hell they're the parts you replay. When you're up late, watching his videos, hand between your thighs.
"-I didn't tell you to fucking move."
You don't know how it still works for you. You know it's not him, he even ran through ideas of lines he was gonna use before you started. He was very sweet about it, almost shy when you were alone- he's anything but shy now.
His grip on you tightens as he moves back to your clit, his tongue working against you rapidly. You're gripping the sheets, trying to keep yourself steady, your whole body convulsing as another orgasm starts to rise quickly.
"Fuck- please-"
He's already told you to beg, a couple times actually. You know he will again. It gets you hot just thinking about it, the stern tone in his voice. You bite your lip hard, trying to stop your hips from rising again. Your gaze falls to the camera, a reminder that you're supposed to be performing, you batter your eyelashes, let out another loud moan.
He pulls back suddenly, his sticky hand wrapping around your thigh, his other hand moving up to wipe his mouth. He looks like a mess, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, chin glistening with your arousal. He glances around to the set, speaking louder, "Sorry guys- I've gotta- I've gotta take a break."
The room picks up in a flash, people moving around, cameras resetting. People come running over with robes, one gets draped over your shoulders, a plastic cup of water pushes into your hands. You take a big swig of it, suddenly realizing how dry your mouth is.
People move around you, you see a few people checking the monitors, gearing up for the next shot. You glance at Dean, he's pulling in a shaky breath, pushing his hair out of his face with his long fingers.
You try to go over everything that just happened- why he wanted to stop. Maybe it's the way your bare heel had dug into his back the last time you came, maybe it's the way you tugged his hair a few minutes ago. Maybe he's just getting sick of being the only one actually doing any work.
He moves closer to you on the mattress, settling close enough that he could reach out if he wanted to. He looks up, gaze falling over you, then turns away fast, back to his own cup.
You speak quickly, nervously, "I'm sorry- did I-"
He cuts you off, leaning his head down slightly so he can speak in a hushed voice, "I'm gonna cum, sweetheart."
It catches you off guard, "What?"
He takes a swig of water, then speaks slowly, "If we keep going, I'm gonna cum."
You're still not sure you've understood him, "What do you-"
"I'm not kidding here, I feel like I'm gonna fuckin' explode- if they catch that on film my whole tough guy act is fucked-"
"We haven't even- I haven't touched you-" you manage to get out.
"I'll never live it down if I blow my load just from tongue fuckin' you- jesus-" he shifts awkwardly, you realize he's trying to hide his boner- it's not easy when his cock is larger than any you've seen before.
"You're gonna cum just from going down on me?"
"You're moaning like you've never had a guy touch you before- it's not exactly helping."
You raise an eyebrow, "I can stop?"
He grins at you, "Don't you dare."
Your heart skips a beat, thighs clench together. Forget any video- this is what you're gonna be thinking about tonight.
He takes another gulp of water, then looks back at you, "Just give me a minute to cool off, and I promise I'll fuck you so hard you can't walk tomorrow-"
✦summary: dean is strictly off limits, for so, so many reasons. It's a shame neither of you seem to care.✦
✦warnings/tags: Dean Winchester x female!reader, no use of y/n, no description of reader, age gap (20s - 40s), dbf!Dean, angst, overprotective dean, older dean, pining, dean being a stupid, lovable dork, feral smut (blowjobs, teasing, dean's dirty talk, brat taming, praise kink, soft!dom Dean, fingering, begging, face-fucking, Dean being a panty thief, finger sucking, jerking off, pussy slapping, lap sex, edging, cockwarming, creampie, big dick dean, overstimulation, body worship, dumbification, light dacryphilia, finger sucking, squirting), love confessions, fluff✦
✦wc: 12.3k✦
✦author's note: request from @circletreeme ! dean dbf for the girlies <3✦
Neither of you lasted as long as you should have.
It was something that never should’ve happened at all. He should know better, and you shouldn’t have pushed to see if he did. But Dean told you it was never going to happen, and then ten minutes later had you pinned against the wall with his knee pushed between your legs.
“Dirty girl.” He mutters in your ear, littering kisses up and down your throat. “Gonna cum on my thigh, aren’t you. That fuckin’ easy?”
You whimper, and pull at his hair. There’s a pressure, building in your lower stomach and demanding and impossible to ignore. Your eyes flutter, and you press your cheek in the side of Dean’s head. His beard is tickling and scraping over sensitive skin, his lips hot and wet. You’re barely more than a puddle in his arms.
“Deeean-“ You whine out, and he chuckles, squeezing your ass tight.
“That’s right, baby. Call my name, tell the whole house who’s got you in their lap-“
A door slams downstairs, and you shove Dean away just as fast as he rips himself back.
You’re both panting and flushed. You can see his arousal through his jeans, and your fingers are shaking too much to get a proper grip on your unbuttoned blouse.
Your father calls your name, the stairs creaking, and you shove Dean again.
He gives you an incredulous look, mouthing what are you doing?
Closet. You mouth back, pushing him again. The man is built like a fucking tree, it’s like trying to move boulder underwater. Get- “Get in the fucking closet-“
He moves, right before the door opens.
Your father smiles at you, glancing around the room. “You doin’ alright, kiddo?”
“Yep. How was work?” You bounce on your toes, shooting tiny looks to the closet.
He has no reason to check anything. It all looks perfectly innocent. There’s no clothing scattered across the floor or stench of sex in the air. Dean hadn’t even taken his shoes off, and the sweater that he’d ripped from your body is allowed to be on the bed, because it’s your room.
And it’s not like you’ve been known to do this kind of thing.
Sleep with older men.
Sleep with anyone.
You’re pretty sure if your father had to gamble on it, he’d put down money that you were going to die alone. Which isn’t entirely unfair. You speak to men like they’re dogs—because they are—and the last time someone asked you on a date, you spent the whole time staring them with an unimpressed expression and your arms over your chest.
It’s not that you’re rude. You just refuse to lower yourself just to please someone who can’t even do their laundry without Mommy’s help. And most college boys don’t even know their food groups. There’s protein, and green stuff, and candy. That’s it. It makes you want to bash your head into a wall.
But that’s how Dean got you.
Stupid, handsome Dean and his big hands and don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take care of it. Dean and the way he picked you up like you weighed ten pounds not to show of how much he can bench, but because you’d been standing in his way teasing him, and he’d needed to move you.
He’d placed you onto the counter of the kitchen with such care, and a stern, amused look. You’d gaped at him, heat flooding your cheek and all the blood in your body confused about if it should be curling in your fists and swinging, or pooling between your legs to help you hump him like an animal in heat.
“Not so mouthy now, are you.” Dean had drawled, and that’s when you’d known.
You were a goner. He had you in the palm of his calloused hands.
It worked, because you had him wrapped around your finger.
But neither of you were supposed to be close enough to even touch.
Dean’s your father’s best friend. They met in some old man club for people who like saws and drills or whatever. Maybe it was just a workshop. Or he fixed your dad’s car, and the dumbass fell just in love with him as you were.
Dean’s great. Dean and I got coffee. Dean showed me this new Thunderbird, think I’m gonna buy it. You can drive it, when you get home, maybe we’ll put the deed in your name. I’ll ask Dean if he thinks that’s a good idea. Dean thinks it’s a great idea.
Most of your Senior year had been spent getting calls and texts from your dad about how perfect and amazing Dean was. If he knew that the man was in your closet fighting a boner right now, he might end up more jealous than angry.
It still doesn’t feel like an experiment you want the results of. Some things are better left to the imagination.
“Work was good.” Your father shrugs. “You eaten dinner?”
“Um- No.” You need to stop looking at the closet. It’s suspicious. “I was actually going to go out, and- Eat there.”
“Do that tomorrow.” He waves a hand. “Dean’s coming over tonight, we’re gonna fire up my new grill, see how she cooks.”
“I know, I just- I wanted like Chinese or something.”
“Then get Chinese and eat with us-“ Your father pauses, and you swallow. “How’d you know Dean was comin’ over?”
Shit. You can almost feel him glaring at you through the closet. You’re supposed to be the smart one, sweetheart.
It’s his fault. You can still feel where he’d been teasing your sides, and it’s making your brain all stupid and fuzzy.
You know because Dean showed up early and cornered you in the living room. Because you’d done the stupid dance where you both pretend you’re not going to cave. You’d asked why he was here. He said he didn’t need a reason. You said he did, it wasn’t his house. He’d teased that he was always welcome. You’d rolled your eyes, and asked if he was sure about that. He’d leaned over you and murmured that you sure as shit seemed happy to see him. You’d just glared, because if you spoke you would’ve started to drool. He’d muttered that, for the record, he’d been invited for the drill. But that he was really here because he needed to see you.
Then he’d shoved his hand under your shirt and kissed you stupid.
You can’t tell your dad that part.
“You told me.” You say lamely.
You can almost hear Dean’s groan.
“Oh. Huh.” Your dad shrugs it off. Why wouldn’t he. “Alright. You gonna stay?”
It’s a horrible idea. If you stay, you’re going to spend the whole time grumpy because you’d been so close, and now Dean was feet away and unable to touch you.
“Sure.”
Fuck.
Your dad takes the victory. In his eyes, you’re sure he thinks it’s a miracle that his daughter wants to hang out with him and his friends instead of going out and doing young people things. You think he forgets, sometimes, that you’ve never been all that good at young people things.
And you’re certainly not going to burst his bubble by reminding him of that. Or the fact that of course you want to hang out with his friend. Sex on Legs Winchester. Even if you didn’t have something halfway started with him, you’d stick around just to ogle the eye candy.
“Am I just a sack of meat to you, princess?” Dean mutters when you tell him as much.
You bite back your smile, and shrug. “Maybe. You gonna do something about it?”
He fixes you with an almost awestruck stare, before chuckling and shaking his head.
“You’re trying to get me killed.”
“No, I’m not-“
“Yeah, you are. I pop a boner now, your old man is gonna rip my head off.”
“So don’t pop a boner, dumbass-“
Your words fall off in a tiny squeak, as Dean grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into a deep, long kiss.
It’s far from the first time you kissed. That had been a night only a week after you’d moved back home—a long, torturous week of staring at massive biceps and imagine them wrapped around your neck, or beating yourself up in the sheets as you got off to the idea of Dean and his stupid, cocky smirk—when he’d been staying over so his house could get gassed for bugs or something. You’d smiled at him too sweetly. All his touches had lingered too long. You’d gone downstairs to get some water, and ended up on top of him on the couch.
You still haven’t slept together. Every time you get close, fucking something has to happen, and you stop.
But you’ve kissed so much you think your lips are molded to shape his.
You immediately turn to slack putty, in Dean’s arms. Kissing him back with frantic passion, leaning over his chest and moaning openly into his mouth. Your fingers find their way to his belt, then lower. Dean tips your head back further to deepen this kiss, and you paw at his bugle with a tiny whimper.
He hums, squeezing the back of your neck. “Behave.”
“Don’t want to.” You breathe out, and he chuckles.
“I know.” Dean pulls back, kissing one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You need some motivation, baby?”
You nod, fixing him with your best, doe-eyed stare. It’s the one that always makes him cave, even when he says he knows he shouldn’t.
But you both know you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t be doing any of this. There’s a long list of reason that starts with your father’s best friend and ends with massive age gap that could be followed to prevent all of this. But you both seem to get a little blind, when you look at each other. Suddenly you can’t read and Dean—a man who’s all self-control and smooth, cool collection—stumbles over his feet like a highschooler.
He says that’s how he knew this was worth it. That you do things to him that no one else ever has. You blush and giggle and press your face into the crook of his neck, and for a little while you both forget the whole world. Sometimes you whisper that he does things to you as well. You’ve never wanted to wrap around someone like this and never let go.
And that overrides all logic and reason. It doesn’t matter what kind of rules there are. You want to break all of them, just to be closer to him for a few moments longer.
“You play nice tonight.” Dean whispers in your ear, tracing lazily up and down your spine. “Then I’ll help you sneak out. Back to my place.”
“Your place?” You sound a lot more pathetic than you want to be. You really don’t know how to help it.
“Mhm. And you know what’s at my place that ain’t here?”
You shake your head, and Dean kisses the tip of your nose. It scrunches up, and his eyes shine with adoration. You’re never going to get sick of him looking at you like that. Like you’re the only thing in the world.
“Peace and quiet.” He mutters. “Just you, me, and nothing else.”
Your eyes widen, as you realize what he means. “Oh- Okay.”
“Okay?”
There’s a hint of worry in his voice. Like he needs to be sure you really mean it, even when you’re slack and folded into his arms, digging your nails into his biceps like you’re trying to leave a mark.
You nod frantically, and his shoulders relax.
“Okay.” He mutters, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You smile at him, and his throat bobs. “Behave.”
“I always behave.” You tease, and Dean snorts.
“Yeah. Alright.”
“I do. I’m very well trained.”
He chuckles, kissing you light and soft. You push up on your toes, trying to chase a little more, and Dean lets you. He always lets you.
“Don’t think you’re the one on the leash, sweetheart.” He mutters against your lips, and you giggle.
“Dogs train their owners sometimes. With feeding habits and walk schedules.”
“Hm.” He leans back, a smile twitching on his lips. “Is this feedin’, or walkin’?”
And this is your favorite expression on his handsome face. The one where you can tell that he’s really trying to be annoyed with you, but can’t stop himself from enjoying your company. From looking at you like he wants to just lock the door and pin you to the bed until you’re giggling and beaming all the time. You’d be all for that plan, if your father wasn’t probably waiting downstairs, wondering why Dean’s running late-
Shit. Right. Your father.
“Actually.” You kiss over his beard, curling your fingers in the collar of his shirt. “I think it’s fetch.”
Dean snorts, and ducks down to kiss you again. You push him lightly back, and he stumbles like he’s been shot.
“Out the window.” You say sternly, pointing at the roof.
Dean groans, running a hand over his face. “C’mon, one more-“
“No.”
“But-“
“Behave.” You mock, and he scowls.
“Son of a bitch.” He grumbles under his breath. He’s making a face like a toddler who just got his favorite toy truck confiscated for bad behavior. It’s rather adorable. “Gonna be the death of me, woman. Can’t believe I’m so in love with a fuckin’ brat.”
“Aw, you love me?”
You say it like it doesn’t still make your heart skip to hear it. Dean sighs like he let slip some grand secret, instead of something that he’s told you countless times in dark corners and in booths of bars.
He looks at the window. He’s back to pouting again.
“It’s gonna hurt my knees.” He whines, and you laugh, closing the space between you once more.
“Tough shit, Winchester. Should’ve tried to keep it in your pants.”
“But you make it so hard-“
“I know.”
That earns you a glare, and you giggle again.
You’re both so very bad at this. Dean should already be downstairs. You shouldn’t be goading him into saying longer, but you can’t help it at all. This is your favorite kind of teasing. The one where you end up folded under him with his pretty lips wrapped around your nipples and thick fingers stuffing up your pussy and toying with your clit until you’re whining his name.
Dean’s looking at you like that’s exactly what he wants to do with you. You’re smiling at him like you’re begging for it, and neither of you ever back down from the challenge.
Then your father calls your name from downstairs. And it’s like a bucket of ice water is poured over both your heads.
“Dean’s runnin’ late!” He shouts. “You should go get your Chinese now!”
You sigh, and Dean grimaces. The urgency doesn’t stop him from grabbing your face between his hands, and kissing you one last time.
“Tonight.” He mumbles like an oath. “Just you and me.”
You hum. “Only if I behave, right?”
“Sure. Only if you behave.”
And he says it like that because you both know perfectly well that it doesn’t matter how you behave. You could sit on his lap or rub your foot on his crotch under the table, and he’s still going to open the door when you sneak over. If anything, the question is just how big a price do you want to pay tonight. How far are you willing to push him, how greatly do you want him to snap once you’re alone.
You think you want him to lose it. He’s always extra pretty when he looks like he’s about to cry from frustration, and he’s never hotter than when there’s that dangerous gleam in his eyes that reminds you he could toss you around like a sack of potatoes.
God, it sounds nice though. Being Dean’s sack of potatoes.
He sneaks out the window, and flips you off after you laugh at him for groaning the whole time. He has to sneak down the block to get his car, and you won’t be here when he arrives. You have to go get your Chinese.
But after that, all bets are off.
Dean is worse at this than you are. The sneaking around.
You get stupid and nervous when your dad is around and Dean is hiding. You told me wasn’t your best moment, but it also wasn’t that far from your worst. And you know your dad. You know that he’s not really going to question most things he tells you, because even your more obvious excuses aren’t that suspicious.
But Dean’s a fucking dumbass.
He’s your dumbass. Your old, grumpy idiot who’s some kind of genius with a wrench and a circuit board and an engine, but who stares at the crossword puzzles you do and mutters that all those letters look fake. He could find his way home if you dropped him in the middle of the woods—you call him your pigeon, and he doesn’t think that’s half as funny as you do—but he also thinks that Michaelangelo is the Ninja Turtle and needs your help writing emails. One time you asked him when he’d last gone to the doctor, and he said some time in ’07. You’d smacked him upside the head and dragged him by the nape of his neck.
Later that week, he’d been grumbling to your dad about how the doc was making him cut back on steak. His cholesterol had been through the roof. He’d protested and bitched, but you’d grabbed his jaw and snapped that if he died, you were going to leave him.
So now he’s down to only two burgers a week, and you’re very proud of him.
Which is what he’d told your dad.
Not the you part—he wasn’t that stupid—but the doctor part. And how he’d been bargained down to two burgers in exchange for other things.
Blowjobs. You might not have fucked yet, but you’d done most everything else, and you’d talked him down from a three burger a week deal with the promise of blowjobs.
Which he’d told your dad.
Because he’s an idiot.
“You’re datin’ someone?” Your dad had said in surprise, and Dean had frozen.
On the couch, you’d rolled your eyes. God, he was so lucky you loved him to death.
“I- I- Uh-“
“Why didn’t you tell me? You coulda brought her over, I wanna meet the lady who finally got you to settle.” Your dad had snorted, his voice dropping so that you probably weren’t supposed to hear it. “Hell, if she gives good enough head for you to drop burgers, I gotta meet her.”
You’d felt sick. When you’d glanced over your shoulder, Dean had looked sick.
His eyes had flitted to yours in panic. You’d given him a tight, prompting look, and his throat had bobbed.
“She, uh- She’s real busy-“
“I got time.”
“Right. Good.” Dean had looked trapped. This was the only time you saw him really stumble over his words. When it came to you.
It would be sweet, if he wasn’t a few wrong words from getting shot in the head.
“She, uh- She’s just- You know- Women-“
“Where’s she work.” Your dad had asked casually.
Dean had gone pallid. “The… Place.”
“Place?”
“Bookshop.”
“Oh.” Your father had called your name, and Dean had looked seconds from passing out. “You know any ladies at the bookshop Dean’s age?”
You’d hummed, pretending to examine your nails. “Um… Maybe Matilda.”
Matilda is the lovely old woman who you share all your shifts with. She has five cats, two grandchildren she loves more than her dolt of a son, and knows that you and Dean are dating because she caught you making out in the nonfiction section a month ago.
Dean had glared at you, and you’d just smiled back. The fuck was I supposed to say? You’d tell him later. There’s only four of us, and two are high schoolers.
He’d gotten out of the bookshop jam by saying that she worked at a different place. Your father had bought the lie, but never dropped it. He never drops any of Dean’s slip ups.
Because every time you’ve almost been caught, it’s been Dean’s fault. There was the time your bra got found in the Impala, and when Dean’s brother knew about you before you were formally introduced, and when you’d been on a date and your dad had walked into the bar. You’d shoved Dean under the table, and the fucking dumbass had decided to kiss your thighs the whole time he was down there. You’d kill him if you didn’t love him. But you also think he’d kill himself if he ever really pissed you off.
But now your dad thinks Dean’s sneaking around with some lady from out of town, and you go to bars by yourself when you said you were going out with friends. And he’s a nice, nosy man, so he hasn’t let go of either fact at all.
“How’s your girl, Winchester?” He asks Dean over dinner, and Dean grunts.
“Good. Pissin’ me off, but good.”
You stick your tongue out at him behind your dad’s back. He’s just grumpy about the couch thing.
Your dad had gone to check on the grill, and you’d put your feet in Dean’s lap. He’d grabbed your ankles and hissed for you to behave. You’d smiled at him and moved them, before immediately crawling over him. You’d had a hand resting right against his crotch, and another grabbing at his chest. You’d kissed his cheeks and neck while he just grabbed your waist for balance.
“’M so wet, De.” You’d whispered, sucking a kiss right under his jaw. “Need you so bad.”
He’d made a strangled, almost pained sound. His cock had twitched under your hand, and you’d pressed down harder.
Dean’s fingers had flexed on your waist. You’d dropped your weight onto his thigh, grinding down and moaning against his skin.
You think, if your dad hadn’t come back the next second, he would’ve flipped you over and ripped off your skirt. But you’d heard the door open, and pulled easily away. Dean hadn’t been able to stand up for five minutes. You’d giggled and run your fingers through this hair, before following your dad out on to the porch.
So he’s a little mad at you.
You hope he stays mad at you. He always kisses you like an animal, when he’s a little pissed. Then he presses your face between your breasts and mumbles about how it’s not fair that he can’t stay mad at you, and it’s a better feeling than any high in the world.
Your goal for the night might be driving him so up the wall that when he finally fucks you, he rearranges your guts in his name.
It’s not going to be that difficult to do.
“What’d she do to piss you off?” Your dad asks, and Dean makes a face.
“Nothin’. Just- She gets mouthy.” He’s still glaring at you. You pretend not to see it. “And she likes to push my fuckin’ buttons.”
“You’re fun to rile up, buddy.” Your dad shrugs, totally oblivious to you and Dean eye fucking across the room. “Just take a deep breath and tell her she’s making you mad.”
Dean snorts. “Trust me. I think she knows.”
You beam at him and flutter your lashes. His eyes narrow, his grip on the counter going white knuckled.
He is fun to rile up. You hope he never works on that.
“You know who I saw at the store today?” You dad asks you, and you hum, poking at your chow mein.
“Who?”
“Gordon.”
“Oh, shit.” You look up. “How’s he doing?”
“Alright. Think he’s livin’ at home too. Surprised you didn’t know.”
“Well, we don’t talk that much anymore-“
“He asked about you.” Your dad shrugs casually. Too casually.
You know where this is going.
“Gave me his new number, to pass onto you. Said he missed you, all four years-“
“Dad.” You sigh, giving him a flat look.
He raises his hands. “I’m not sayin’ anything-“
“Yes, you are.”
“Well- Nothin’ that we gotta read into, but you two were always so close-“
“Dad-“
“Who the fuck is Gordon.” Dean grunts, and you flush.
He looks pissed. And not you just flashed him and he’s got a boner at the table pissed.
Really pissed. Like he wants to bite someone’s head off, but hasn’t figured out who yet.
It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
“He’s- He’s just my childhood friend-“
“Childhood best friend.” Your dad corrects, and you’re going to fucking kill him and then yourself. “They were little bandits together, we all thought they’d end up datin’, but I guess they both got sidetracked.”
“We didn’t get sidetracked.” You mutter, staring at your plate.
You can feel Dean’s gaze burning into you. It’s almost impossible to look him in the eyes.
“We just- It was never like that-“
“Didn’t he take you to prom?”
“As friends-“
“You didn’t come home ‘till the morning-“
Something cracks, and you and your dad both fall silent.
Dean’s broken his mug. With his hands. One hand.
Oh, God.
You’re worried that if you stand up, there’s going to be a slick stain on your chair.
“You alright, buddy?”
“Yeah. I’m good.” Dean stares at you, nostrils flaring. “You gonna call the boy?”
Boy. Not man, boy. And he says it so mockingly, it makes you feel buzzy and faint.
“No.” You try to sound normal, but you’re sure it comes out pathetic and dazed. “I- Um- We never-“ You glance nervously at your dad, and clear your throat. “Gordon actually ditched me for Anna, on prom night. That was- It was why we stopped talking.”
“Oh.” Your dad makes a sour face. “Well, I always knew he was gonna be bad news eventually. You deserve better, kiddo, and if I see him again I’ll give him a piece of my mind- I’m sure Dean will too.”
And you have to agree with that.
Dean looks like he’s about to go and smash Gordon’s head against the curb. Your dad keeps rambling about Gordon and kids not knowing what they want and how both he and Dean will make sure you never settle for less than you deserve. Dean keeps staring at you, and you’re sure that part is true as well.
Dean’s not going to let you settle for anything less than what you deserve at all. If he can help it, he’s never going to allow you to settle, period.
You really hope he knows, that it’s him and nothing else. Never anything else. Whatever confusing feelings you had eventually developed for Gordon had vanished when you were a teenager. You’d barely had a college boyfriend—more like a few loose options you’d kicked to the curb once you decided they’d lead to pallid and sickly futures—and no one in your life has ever made you care about a relationship the way Dean does.
And you really worry sometimes, that he doesn’t understand that. You try to remind him, but the age gap hangs over your heads like a sword of Damocles. He’s said before that there has to be better boys for you. Boys your age.
You don’t want a boy your age. You want a man.
You want Dean.
And from the look of him, you’re not sure he’d be able to stomach you with anyone else.
“I’m not going to call Gordon.”
Dean looks up from the sink. You’d followed him into the bathroom while your dad cleaned the grill, desperate to make sure he understood. You like him a little grumpy and mocking. It makes everything in your chest feel wrong, when he really seems upset.
“Alright.” Is all he mutters, grabbing a towel to dry his hands.
“Dean-“
“What?”
He gives you a challenging look. You swallow, and lean back against the door.
“I love you.”
The first time you’d said it had been all romantic and dumb in the rain. It had fumbled from your lips like a prayer, and he’d kissed you until your legs gave out. Even now, months later, it has the safe effect. Dean’s shoulders slump, and his eyes soften. Everything in him softens. Just for you.
“I love you too, princess-“
“No.” You whisper, pressing your lips in a tight line. “I really love you.”
Dean frowns. “Yeah, I know-“
“Dean.” You push off the door, your eyes locked onto his. “I love you.”
No one else, is what you tell him with your eyes. Just you. Always just you.
Dean blinks, his gaze raking over your body, then darting to the door. He rasps your name, because he knows you too well. He knows that glint in your eyes, he knows the sweet smile playing on your lips. He tells you all the time, that it almost gives him a heart attack. You close the distance in small, cautious steps. Dean clears his throat, looking almost desperate for you to take mercy.
You won’t. You need him to understand.
“Sweetheart, you can’t-“
“Yes I can.” You sink to your knees, and Dean grabs a fistful of your hair.
Your drag your hands over his thighs, and his swallows hard, a vein in his brow ticking as he tries to keep still.
“Come on.” He rasps. “This ain’t behaving.”
You shrug, slowly undoing his belt buckle. “Oops.”
Dean’s chest heaves, and a small groan rumbles in his chest as you kiss his crotch. You watch him under hooded lashes, pulling down his pants and taking his underwear with them.
He’s already hard. Thick in your hand and weeping from his slit, the angry red of his cock demanding your attention, even as he tries to talk you out of it.
“Baby, you- You don’t gotta-“
“But I want to.” You murmur, slowly pumping his cock with a light grip.
Dean grunts, bucking into your hand. His head is tossed back, his eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming out in pants. You stop stroking him, and he immediately looks back down.
“What’re you-“
“Can I?” You press your cheek into his thigh, letting your warm breath fan over his balls. “Please?”
You pout, just to be sure he knows. Dean never likes making you do this. He always whines on and on about how it should be about you, not him. He says he gets off just fine tasting you and making you cum on his fingers. You’re still trying to make him understand that just the thought of him fucking your face like a toy ruins your underwear.
You’ll be sure to show him after.
Dean stares down at you, gripping the bathroom sink and petting the top of your head. He lets out a ragged breath, closes his eyes, then drags them back open. You think he might be checking that you’re still there.
You’re about to suck his soul out of his cock. He’s not going to get rid of you that easy.
“You sure?” He mutters, and you nod eagerly.
“Please.”
A feral sound rumbles from his throat. His dick twitches, and he gives the tiniest nod.
“Is that-“
“Go for it.” A smile ghosts his lips. “Show me what you’ve got, baby.”
You give him a flat look. He knows damn well, what you’ve got. And you can see him smirking, opening his mouth to say something cocky and smug about you biting off more than you can chew.
You don’t give him the chance, before you’re wrapping your mouth around his head and swirling your tongue.
Dean groans, his blunt nails scraping against your head as his whole body tenses. You hum around him and repeat the motion, again, and then one more time for good measure.
“Jesus-“ He chokes out your name. “Warn a guy- I- Wasn’t fuckin’ ready-“
You smile, pushing further down. You suck lightly, taking his base into your hand and pumping it in time with your mouth. Dean makes a sinful, deep noise that comes straight from your dreams. He croaks out your name, bowing his head and tugging on your hair as his cock pulses in your mouth.
“Baby- Fuck-“
You take your free hand and grab his balls, slowly massaging them as your mouth picks up the pace. Dean’s looking down at you like you fell from Heaven, right onto your knees for him, and him alone.
“You’re a fuckin’ brat, you know that? Just- Lookin’ at me and- Shiiit-“
He’s losing composer. It’s what you live for. The way his eyes roll back and he starts to shallowly thrust between your lips, letting drool slip down your chin and pre-cum leak over your tongue.
“Mouth was made for me.” He grits out, his teeth bared and voice tight. “Pretty little slut, know you love this shit. You’re wet, aren’t you. Drippin’ all over the floor for me.”
You moan in agreement, and Dean slams his hips forward. His cock bruises the back of your throat and you have to relax your jaw to stop yourself from gagging. Dean tenses, his voice raw and strained.
“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry-“
You’re not having any of that.
Dean cuts himself off with another guttural sound as you push yourself forward. Your nose brushes his abdomen, your jaw unhinged to take all of him, and it’s still not enough. You stick out your tongue, flicking the underside of his cock as you squeeze his balls.
“Son of a bitch- You-“
You suck, letting your throat squeeze around the head of him. He makes another, feral sound, and tugs at your hair.
“Baby, shit- You’re so fuckin’ warm, and- You gotta get off or-“
He almost whimpers as you pull back, sliding off his cock with a pop and stroking it as you leave an open-mouth kiss on the swollen head. Dean’s fingers flex, and you know he wants to shove you back down.
You give him a soft smile, kissing down his shaft, then over his balls. You suck there for a second, still jerking his cock in your free hand, and he finally snaps. Pulling you back by your hair and giving you a wrecked, hopeless look. He’s trying to use his listen to me voice, but he seems to know it’s a lost cause. You’ve got him exactly where you want him.
He says your name like a prayer, and you open your mouth. Stick out you tongue, fixing him with a challenging glare.
Dean swallows. “You sure- Fuck-“
You flick your tongue over his head, squeezing the base of his dick tight.
Dean shakes his head, looking up like he’s praying.
“Gonna be the death of me.” He mutters, and you know you’ve won.
You keen as Dean’s grip on your hair tightens. He shoves you right down his cock, pushing against the back of your throat before yanking you back. You moan around him, your eyes watering from the overwhelming taste and force. You’re barely more than a cocksleeve for his pleasure, and that’s exactly what you wanted.
Dean barely able to think outside of where he’s fucking your mouth, making broken and worshipful sounds, calling your name with every thrust.
“Fuck, baby- Takin’ it so good, love you like this, choking on my cock. Look so pretty for me, wish I could take a picture- Fuuuckkkk-“
He tosses his head back, still watching his cock pump between your lips. He gets transfixed and babbles, coming apart above you as you just keep smiling and taking it.
“Pretty girl,” he grits out. “My pretty fuckin’ slut, sucking dick like a damn vacuum- Crying for me, baby girl, you need this cock that bad-“
You mewl in agreement, dizzy from the praise. You do need his cock that bad. If the thoughts weren’t being fucked from your head, you whimper that no one fucks your mouth like he does. No one makes you feel so holy and used all at the same time. You’re so wet you feel it every time you shift, so wet you’re worried he’s going to be able to smell it. But you love this. The taste and weight of him, and how no one gets it but you.
It’s almost pornographic, the way he’s taking your mouth. Your lips shine with spit and pre-cum, tears pour down your cheeks as his thrusts become jagged sharp, and sweat shines on Dean’s thighs as you keep working his balls. They’re getting tight and heavy in your hands. He’s about to loose it.
“Baby-“ He taps your cheek, words pushed out between moans. “Baby, I- I’m gonna-“
You sink your nails into his thigh. You’ve never failed to swallow before, and you’re not starting now.
Dean hisses out your name, but doesn’t stop. You moan around him, sucking as hard as you can to shove him over the edge.
He cums hard, shooting thick ropes of release down your throat. You unhinge your jaw, and manage to get most of it. But he always lets out so much, and a fair amount ends up smeared with your tears and dripping down his legs.
You pull slowly back, and start to lick up what you weren’t able to get on your first try. Dean hisses, sensitive from the orgasm, and strokes his hand through your hair. His gaze is fixed on where some had dripped down to your tits. You have a feeling that if you were really, truly in private, he’d shove his face into your chest and clean you up himself.
“You are-“ He lets out a broken laugh, as you smile up at him. “Something else.”
“You’ve told me.” You tease, and Dean rolls his eyes.
“Too proud of it.” He grumbles. “Like you want to be over my knee later.”
You shrug, eyes sparkling. Dean’s jaw ticks.
His thumb swipes over your cheek, where a little bit of the cum is still stained.
“Open.” He mutters, and you obey.
He presses his thumb between your swollen lips, and you take it with a happy hum. Dean groans, watching you suckle his release of his finger. You flutter your lashes at him. He pulls out, smearing spit over your cheek.
“I’m goin’ in an hour.” His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it. It sends an excited, electric thrill between your legs. “You better follow, or I’m comin’ here and fucking you in your daddy’s house.”
You nod like a bobblehead, unable to even find the words. Dean laughs and pulls you to your feet, kissing you harshly. It’s messy and open, possessive in a way you’d never found hot before you had him.
Other boys being possessive had seemed like they thought of you as a nice little toy they threw a tantrum over having to share. With anyone, even your friends.
Dean being possessive makes you feel priceless. Treasured. He’s yours, and he doesn’t want you to forget it. You can do whatever the hell you want, just so long as you remember that he’s yours.
Your dad is calling for you again. Dean slips out of the bathroom first—he doesn’t have cum and drool to clean off his face—but not before kissing your cheek and slapping your ass.
He says you’re going to be the death of him, but he’s bouncing around like he’s ten years younger. You’re the one who needs to clutch the railing as she walks downstairs. He didn’t even fuck you and it’s hard to walk from the throb between your legs.
You’d been right. You’d completely destroyed your underwear, turning it to just a soaked scrap of lace.
And Dean might have you begging at his feet, but you don’t roll over that easy. You pulled off your panties before you left the bathroom. You keep them bundled in your fist while Dean talks to your dad for the last hour, sitting on the counter with your legs crossed. When it’s time for him to go, he wanders over to give a perfectly innocent goodnight.
His eyes are gleaming, as he drawls see you around, kid.
Kid.
He knows you hate it when he calls you kid. And suddenly, you don’t feel bad anymore.
“Night, grandpa.” You say lightly, and Dean laughs, but it’s rougher than before. You can see it in his eyes, the way he’s planning out every single way he’s going to make you pay for that.
Then you stick out your hand, and he blinks. There’s a confused, cautious shadow over his face as he takes your hand and shakes it. You cover it with your fist, and slip your panties into his grip.
Dean pulls back with a frown, looks down, and coughs so loud he staggers. You bite your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. Your father looks up from the sink with a worried face.
“You alright, Dean?”
“Yeah, uh- Yeah.” He stares at you, working his jaw. His words are pushed through his teeth, and you can see his cock, already straining through his jeans again.
His closes his fist around your panties, and shoves them into his pockets. Your dad asks him something else, but you don’t hear it. You’re fully fixed on Dean. On the dangerous promise in his eyes.
You’re in trouble.
Good.
Dean lives more than twenty minutes away, but you make the drive in fifteen.
You’re desperate, and past denying it. You’ve got the hottest man alive waiting for you and finally about to fuck you, anyone else would be breaking traffic laws as well.
It wasn’t hard to sneak past your father, especially because you failed to sneak past him. You got downstairs and found him watching TV. You’d thought he was in bed, and the blood had drained from your face.
“Dad, uh- You’re-“
“Just watchin’ Jeopardy.” He’d said, not looking away from the screen. “You going to Dean’s?”
You’d tripped over nothing, and choked on the air.
“I- I don’t- I’m not- What-“
“Don’t insult me, kiddo.” He twists, giving you a flat look. “I ain’t blind and stupid. He had a hard on the whole night.”
“Um-“ You fidget with your fingers, unsure if you should run or just drop dead. “That’s- Maybe he was texting his girlfriend-“
“He never texts his girlfriend. He just texts you.”
You open your mouth, then close it. You’re dead. Dean’s dead. Your dad is going to kill him and you’re never even going to get to have sex, and that’s such a huge bummer because you’re just going to sit at his grave forever, and turn into a tree like some old myth, and then your dad is going have no one to talk to sports about. Everyone is losing in this scenario. It’s awful.
“Was it his fault?” You say, because it’s all you can think of. “That you realized?”
Your dad snorts. “Oh, yeah. I had suspensions-“
“Suspicions-“
“I caught you on a date.” He says your name dryly. “You said you were there alone, but his car was in the lot. He said he was datin’ a girl who worked in a bookshop. You’d been wearing his shirt to bed.”
Your mouth falls open, your cheeks burning.
“Oops.”
“Yeah. Oops.” Your dad sighs, turning back to the TV. “Realized when he let me call you on his phone. Dumbass opened the message thread for me and everything.”
Oh. Oh no.
Again, there wasn’t much outside of sex that you and Dean hadn’t done. Which, tragically, included sexting.
A lot of sexting.
Photos of you in lingerie and dick pics and voice memos and a lot of videos, and you’re going to throw up-
“You- You didn’t-“
“Saw more of Dean than I ever wanted to.” Your dad mutters, making a face like he’s also going to be sick. “Was about to punch him for sending that shit to you, but there was a voice memo with it. Listened for about ten seconds, almost got sick, realized it was at least mutual.”
You cringe. You remember that voice memo and photo, just as well as you remember your dad calling you on Dean’s phone because his was dead. You’d thought he sounded weird. You wished you hadn’t been so right.
“I’m so sorry-“
“He treat you well?”
You blink. You almost don’t understand the question.
“Of- Of course he does.”
“Hm.” Your dad frowns at the TV. “He gonna marry you?”
“Dad-“
“I’m just sayin’.” He shrugs. “If he’s puttin’ us all through this, he better hope he doesn’t break your heart. You know I was in the military.”
You almost laugh. “He was in the military-“
“I was ranked higher.”
“Dean was a marine-“
“You think I couldn’t kick his ass?”
You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think you don’t have to, because he won’t break my heart.”
For a second, you just stare at each other. Then your father huffs, and slumps back into the couch.
“Good.” He waves a hand. “Have fun.”
You nod, then go still.
Have fun.
That’s… Approval.
Your dad knows about you and Dean, and he—begrudgingly, but that’s the best you can hope for—approves.
So that should be the first thing you tell Dean when you get through the door. That you don’t have to keep hiding. You’re rehearsing breaking the news your whole drive over, mumbling the speech under your breath when you knock on the door.
But then Dean opens it, and suddenly there’s only one important thing in the world.
Greetings are forgotten, as Dean wraps an arm around your waist and drags you into his chest. You whimper as his mouth slams over yours, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him further down.
“Haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you since I left.” Dean groans, pulling your jacket off with scrambling hands. “Got in the car and wanted to turn around, sneak back through the window like a fuckin’ teenager- Jesus, you don’t know what you do to me-“
You surge up on your toes, throwing your arms around his shoulder and kissing him until you’re breathless and swaying.
“I- I know.” You whisper. “God, Dean, I know-“
He makes one of those deep, hungry, rumbling sounds, spinning you both around so he can kick the door close. You stumble closer, pressing him back against the wall as your pull his upper lip between your kiss. Dean grunts and crashed forward, grabbing your face between his hands and pressing back.
“Needy.” He mutters between open mouth kisses. “Needy fuckin’ girl, can’t even let me take a breath, can you?”
You tip you head back, your words breathy and high as Dean starts to kiss over your neck.
“You- You kissed me first.”
Dean hums, nipping at your throat. He’s dragging his hands down your sides, slipping one under your shirt to caress your spine while the other gropes at your ass.
“I did, didn’t I?”
“Mhm.” You mumble, lost in the heat of his mouth. He’s sucking on a sensitive pulse point, letting his tongue flick over the skin, and he knows what that does to you. “De- Dean-“
“Guess I’m the one who couldn’t wait.” He says, but it’s mostly to himself. “Been dreamin’ of this for so long, sweetheart. You here.” He kisses further down, pulling down your shirt to get access to the top of your chest. “’Bout to be in my bed.” He bunches up the fabric of your shirt, and only his arm around you is keeping you upright. “’Bout to be on my cock.”
He hisses the last words before rushing back up into a starved, sloppy kiss. He rips off your shirt in the same second, before smoothly unclipping your bra. You gasp as the cold air hits your nipples, nails scratching at Dean’s neck.
“Shit- Dean-“
“I’ve got you.” He scoops you into his arms, kissing your cheek.
“Do you-“ You swallow at his flat, amused look. “Sorry.”
His lips twitch, and he doesn’t break your gaze as he walks down the hall. “You know, you always get mouthy when you’re horny.”
You scowl. “I do not-“
“You do-“
“No, I-“
Dean cranes his neck, capturing your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. You respond in a second with a light tug of his hair, eliciting another pleased, low rumble from his chest.
He pulls back, and you chase him. Getting one more, quicker kiss that he melts into within a second.
“You do.” He rasps, nipping at your nose. “You turn into a real brat.”
You glare, ready to snap something that would only prove his point. But Dean grins, and suddenly you’re being dumped down onto his bed. You yelp at the sudden movement, wiggling and holding him tight enough to strange. Dean grunts, falling forward and barely managing to brace himself over you as you both crash down to the mattress.
“Jesus-“ He mutters your name, and you shove his shoulders.
“You surprised me-“
“You almost killed me-“
“Oh, you’re fine-“
“I’m old, that coulda broken my knees-“
“Shut up.”
You grab his face, pressing up for another stumbling, frantic series of kisses. You’ve kissed Dean pretty much everywhere—on his body and geographically—but this is always your favorite place. On his pretty mouth, under him in his bed. There’s nothing around you that isn’t Dean, and it’s intoxicating. The pine and spice scent of him, the heat of his body, the fact that he just lay here by himself sometimes. Thinking of you, the same way you think of him.
Dean wraps his arms around you, pulling you up off the mattress. You hook your leg over his waist, flipping you both over so you’re straddling his lap and kissing him everywhere you can reach. You grind down onto his sweats, and he moans shamelessly, his fingers digging into your hips.
“You- You’re not wearing your fucking panties-“
“I gave them to you.” You mumble, pressing your ass down against his thickness. The fabric scrapes against your bare pussy, offering perfect friction, and you start to hump him like you’re in heat.
Dean drags his hand up your spine, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you up his chest. He lets you keep working yourself down on his bulge for a few seconds longer, moaning into your mouth as you tease him.
“Dirty, dirty girl.” He scolds, the mocking tone in his voice just spurring you on.
He knows you love it. That’s why he likes it.
“Walkin’ around in just a skirt.” He dips a hand under your skirt, palming at your bare ass cheeks. “Should’ve folded you over the couch to see it. Pretty fuckin’ pussy, bet it’s already nice and wet for me.”’e
He reaches further down, and you gasp as his fingers brush your cunt. He’s right. Of course he is. Dean might know your body better than you do.
“Shit- Dean-“
“Shhh.” He splits two fingers, rubbing them over the outer lips of your pussy before pinching them together.
You whine, trying to hump up into his hand, but he splays his palm on your lower back and presses you back down.
“Behave.” He grunts. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For me to fuck you how I want?”
He squeezes harder, his thumb grazing over your clit. Your whole body tremors, and you press your face into the crook of Dean’s neck.
“Ye- Yes.” You pant. “But- You’re not fucking me- You’re just- Oooh-“
He flicks his thumb this time, and it’s like a tiny electric shock. You don’t know how he always does this. It doesn’t matter if he’s got his hand between your legs or your pussy right on his face, he plays it like an instrument. It would make you scream if it didn’t feel so good.
“Well,” Dean muses, dragging his thumb in slow torturous circles as he starts to rub your pussy again. “I told you to behave earlier. And did you?”e
You shake your head, almost so overwhelmed from the attention on your core that you forget how to speak. “N- No.”
“That’s right. So I’m gonna fuck you,” he pulls his hand away for a second, landing a sharp slap on your ass before pushing it back. “When you remember how to be a good girl.”
You whimper, but don’t argue. This is what you’d asked for, with all the teasing.
You’d just thought he’d give it to you rough. That’s what behave usually meant. An invitation for you to test the line, if you wanted him to pin your on his mouth and make you cum under you were begging him to stop. Once it meant lying over his lap while he fingered and spanked you, and you’d cum so hard you saw stars.
But that’s not what this is.
You’re melted over Dean’s chest, and he’s being lazy and mean. He keeps playing with your pussy like it’s a cute little toy. Just brushing it and rubbing your clit with barely any pressure.
“Mo- More.” You plead. “I need more-“
You almost sob, as he pushes one finger just into your entrance before taking it away. You hug him so tight you think it must hurt, but he doesn’t even grunt.
“Look at that.” He coos in your ear, smearing a little bit of your arousal on your thigh. “You’re making a mess on me, baby. Just from a little bit of touchin’.”
“Was- Was not a little bit-“
“Wasn’t much.” Dean muses, landing a sharp slap on your swollen pussy. “But it never takes much to get my girl wet, does it.”
You shake your head, tears pricking at your eyes again. You’d beg if you had the words, but right now you’re just trying to hold on.
“Everything makes you so horny.” Dean drawls, going back to rubbing his big, warm hand over your pussy. “Remember when we got ice cream? Had to fuck you in my car, ‘cause you couldn’t even wait to get to the damn house.”
“You- You were- You were wearing a really nice shirt-“
“Sure, princess. It was the shirt.”
“It was-“
Dean slaps your pussy again, and your words fall into a whine.
“You ashamed of the truth, princess?” He teases, right in your ear. “How you really wanted me to stuff you up, fuck you and fill you like the cumslut that you are?”
You keen, and you can’t stop yourself from humping his hand again. This time, Dean lets you. He knows you need it.
“That’s right, baby girl. I know you like that.” He bites your ear, and you wiggle your ass right onto his fingers, trying to force one or two inside you. “I remember how I came on your thighs. You almost got me to put it in that day. One more of those pretty pleases and I woulda caved.”
“De- Deeaan-“
“Kept those panties too. I got a whole drawer for them, just for when I miss you.” He kisses the side of your head. “And I always fuckin’ miss you.”
The tears start to flow, half from the debaucherous sweetness of Dean’s words, and half from desperation. If you don’t cum right now, you’re going to explode.
And you’re close. You’re so close. Your pussy is clenching around nothing, but you’ve gotten the tips of Dean’s fingers to press onto your clit, and the sensitive little button is going to be enough to get you over the edge. He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls it up, forcing you to meet his eyes as you work down onto his fingers. You sob in desperation, lips quivering and tits bouncing. Dean groans, pushing up to kiss you as hard as he can. And you’re so close.
Then the asshole stops.
He pulls his hand away, slaps your pussy, and stops.
You make a strangled, broken sound of defeat, and Dean just chuckles. He makes you both sit up, massaging your ass and kissing away your tears.
“Nice try.” He smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “You think you earned bein’ able to cum?”
“Ye- Yes.” You pout hopefully, and Dean chuckles.
“Aw, sweetheart. You ain’t even mouthy anymore.”
You swallow. “I- I can be-“
“Jesus.” Dean laughs, and that pools right in you tummy, the embarrassment stoking an already raging fire.
Dean’s rubbing your sides, kissing all over your shoulders as breasts as you just try to breathe. You earned this. You really did. But god, it’s a perfect torture. He’s just kissing and touching you, in a way that would almost be innocent if you weren’t soaked wearing just a skirt and leaving a stain on his jeans.
“’M sorry.” You breathe out, wrapping your arms around Dean’s head.
He hums, taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Your eyes flutter, and it’s hard to stay focused. He’s so warm, his tongue dragging in little circles. You swallow, your voice getting higher as he starts to suck.
“I- I’m sorry I teased you, De- I- Pleaseeee-“
Dean moves away, grabbing your jaw and holding it back for him to inspect. You give him your best, pleading expression and pray it breaks him.
He taps your lips with his thumb. “Open.”
You obey in a second, and Dean’s lips twitch. He leans down, and spits right into your open mouth.
He’s done this before. It practically makes you gush every time. And it doesn’t help that he’s wrapped all around you, watching you with such teasing affection as you take it so easily. You swallow, and blink up at him with a fucked out, dazed expression.
“Good girl.” He mutters, and you beam up at him. “Yeah, I know. You like bein’ a good girl.”
God, you do. And from Dean’s lips, the words feel like a rush of adrenaline.
“But you’re not gonna learn, are you?” He drawls. “Gonna keep me on my toes, running around trying to find places to fuck you that won’t get us arrested.”
“Maybe,” you whisper. “But you like me like that.”
That makes him laugh again, before he pulls you into a shockingly sweet, slow kiss.
“Damn right I do,” he mutters, before pulling back way. “Alright. Up.”
You blink at him. “Huh.”
“Stand up.” He nods to the foot of the bed. “Take off your skirt, ‘n come back.”
“But- You’re- You’re still-“
“Trust me, sweetheart.” Dean kisses the tip of your nose. “If I keep these pants on longer, Little Dean is gonna suffocate. I’ll take care of it.”
You giggle softly, and obey the command. The air feels cold, without Dean there folded over you. It’s just further motivation for you to push down your skirt and wait for his next request.
And you’ve been naked in front of Dean before. Many times, to varying degrees. But you’ve never done it like this.
Just… Bare. Wearing nothing and standing for him to see so clearly, as he pulls off his jeans and shirt then settles at the headboard. He’s taken his cock in his hand, and started to stroke it slowly. Looking you up and down with a lazy grin. Your skin prickles with anticipation, and with anyone else you’d try to wrap your arms around your stomach or shrink back and hide. And the first time you tried that, he’d pinned your hands over your head and fingered you until you squirted.
So maybe you should try it.
“Don’t even think about it.” He growls, when you move. “Wanna see you, baby.”
You swallow, shifting on your feet. “You can see me.”
“Hell yeah, I can.”
Dean’s gaze is burning into you. And it’s the most impossibly sensual thing you’ve ever see, Dean’s massive cock in his hand. The way it twitches and jumps as he touches it, as he watches you. He grunts, his hand staring to beat harder, and you press your thighs tight together.
It’s just you, that’s making him all flushed and hard. You almost start to drool again, thinking about crawling down the mattress and taking him back in your mouth. How he’d probably let you, with how he’s got lidded eyes and making low, rough grunts.
It’s a powerful, beautiful feeling.
But unfortunately, not enough to stop you from scrambling forward the moment he stretches out a hand.
Dean laughs, spinning you around so your back is tucked into his chest. His hand that hand been on his cock hitches up your leg, and the other wraps around your stomach, his fingers grazing under your breast. You tip your head back against his shoulder, closing your eyes and getting lost in the feeling. Dean, wrapped so fully and completely around you, keeping you nice and warm in his massive arms.
“Look at you.” He kisses along your jaw, fingers dragging over your sensitive inner thigh. “Nice and stupid for me already. Ready to be a pretty doll and take this cock.”
“Need it.” You breathe out, grabbing his forearm. “Pleeease, Dean, I’ve been waiting so long-“
You moan as he parts the swollen lips of your pussy, letting his cock slip and rub between your folds.
“I know you have.” He mutters. “Been waitin’ longer. Almost lost my mind, knowin’ how tight and warm you were but not being able to fuck you. Fuck you right, fuck you properly, fuck you ‘till you ain’t ever gonna remember another mans name.”
“Just you.” You manage to whine out, pushing your hips up to get a little more friction. “Always just you, Dean, don’t want anyone else, never wanted anyone else- Fuuuck-“
He pushes inside. It’s slow and careful, deft fingers rubbing your clit to help you relax. It’s not like much help is needed, though. He’s so big you can’t close your fingers around him, but he slips into your cunt like a glove.
“Shit-“ Dean groans in your ear, lips hot and wet on your skin. “Greedy pussy swallowing me up, baby, knew you’d take me so good, take me perfect-“
He bottoms out, pressing against a gooey spot deep inside you body. Nobody’s ever really hit it before, let along split you open so well it gets a consistent, throbbing pressure. His tip kisses your cervix, his breathing ragged in your ear, and you both need a few seconds to adjust.
You turn your head, trying to chase his mouth, and find Dean already there. He kisses you slowly, open mouthed with his tongue mapping every inch of your mouth. His arms are fully wrapped around your stomach, and you cling to them like a seatbelt. You’re lightheaded in the best possible way. Dean hums against your lips, and the sound vibrates inside of you.
You mewl, tossing your head back and clenching down. Dean hisses, and pulls you further back into his chest.
“Son of a bitch, you can’t just-“
“Sorry.” You whine out, turning your face to hide in his neck. “Just- ‘S big, Dean. So big.”
Dean chuckles. It doesn’t help.
“Big, huh?”
“Don’t milk it.” You grumble, and he laughs fully.
“I don’t think I’m the one that’s gonna be doin’ the milking, princess.”
He thrusts up, and you whimper.
“Dean-“
“That’s right.” He repeats the shallow thrust, and your moan gets loud. “Sing for me, baby, show ‘em who owns this pussy.”
“Y- You.” You stutter out. Your head is empty. You don’t think you can fit Dean’s cock and thinking at the same time. “Dean- Deeean-“
He attaches his lips to your neck again, sucking and kissing as he pushes you further down on his cock.
But he stops thrusting. He just has you… sit there.
On him. So full you can barely breathe, every nerve in your body stimulated but being offered no relief.
“What- What’re you-“
“Wanna keep you’re here for a while.” He murmurs, his kisses slowing. Becoming lazy and over attentive again, without giving you what you really need. “Just like this. My perfect fuckin’ girl, look at you.”
He taps your clit, and you try to arch up into the touch, but his hold is too strong.
“Fuck- Dean-“
“Just a little bit, baby.” He coos, rubbing your clit with the very tip of his fingers. “Just hold it for me.”
And God, you try. You sit on Dean and let him tease and touch you however he wants. He drags circles around your clit until you’re panting and whining, then moves his attention back up to your nipples. Tweaking and rolling them between his fingers, kissing over your neck and shoulders as his cock twitches inside of you with every lewd moans of his name.
“You like that?” He murmurs, and you nod.
Then he stops it, kissing the sob out of your mouth and moving onto something else.
He’s done this to you before. Had you in his arms and teased you until you couldn’t take it, then let you cum. But he’s never done it while sheathed inside of you. It heightens everything, making it impossible to think outside of his hands and lips and cock. His thick cock, not pressing against your ass, but buried in your cunt and still hitting all those sensitive places.
You’re on fire, and Dean’s just letting you build and build and build up to an explosive pressure. There are spots dancing behind your eyes, when he starts rubbing your clit in fast, brutal circles, then stops just before you can fall over the edge. You claw at his arms, wrecked beyond words, sobbing and trying to get away and get him closer.
For a second, you make the mistake of bowing your head. Your eyes flutter open, and you get a full view of Dean’s cock settled inside you. His balls pressed right against your ass, the way he almost fit everything in, but there’s still a bit of his base that didn’t make it. It’s slick with your arousal, dripping right out of your pussy as you whimper.
“De- Deaaan-“ It’s all you’ve been moaning, for who knows how long.
You’re so overstimulated, time is starting to blur. Maybe it’s been an hour, maybe only five minutes. It feels like you’ve been here forever.
“Please- Please-“ You blubber, leaning back to look at him under tear-stained lashes, the words falling from swollen lips. “I- I’ll do anything, oooooh- Fuck-“
Dean gives a shallow thrust, and your whole body spasms. He’s watching under hooded, lust blown eyes. And if the starved, animalistic look in his eyes is any clue, if he doesn’t cave for your sake, he’s going to cave for his.
“You gonna be good for me?” He rasps, and you nod frantically.
“So good- Please-“
Dean kisses you again, but this time he shifts you in his arms. His arm wraps around your neck, pinning you fully to his chest in a headlock. Your eyes roll back, a dazed smile covering your face.
His movements are relaxed and controlled, but you can see the feral glint his eyes.
You won.
“Perfect fuckin’ pussy, making a mess all over this cock.” He grunts out, bending his knees so you’re fully folded into his lap. “Could die here, baby- Fuucckkk-“
He seems to lose his own voice, the second he starts thrusting up into you. A beautiful moan rumbles in your ears, and Dean presses his nose tight against the side of your head. You whimper, holding onto him tight, mostly to try and keep grounded.
Dean’s fucking into you at a rough, snapping pace, and this is what you’d expected, but it’s better than you could’ve dream. The feeling of every vein and inch of him being pushed though your cunt. The obscene sounds of his cock slamming into you cunt, his arm around you forcing your head back onto his shoulder, giving you a full glimpse of Dean as your pussy strangles and squeezes him.
He looks destroyed, panting broken praise in your ear as his lips droop and his mouth hangs open.
You push up a little, managing to get his attention with a whimper. He gives you a curious look, then understands in a second. His lips mold over yours, and you babble some cockdrunk nonsense against his mouth. You’re fully crying again, so lost in the pleasure that you can’t even find the shame to care. Dean’s drilling up, pushing every thought in your head away into a pleasurable haze.
He pulls your knees up higher, letting him hit even deeper than before. Each stoke is deep and rough, and you’d been worked up so well that your pussy is just weeping and taking him like you’re a fuckdoll. You feel like one, in the best possible way. Stuffed up and pounded with abandon, slicking Dean’s cock so that it drives right back into your like a toy.
You moan, letting your eyes close and drowning in the impossibly good feeling. You can’t believe you waited this long. If Dean fucks like this, you might never get off his cock again.
“That’s it,” he squeezes your breast before moving those sinful fingers back down to play with your clit. “Takin’ me so perfect, baby girl, just gotta cum for me- Cum all over my dick, show me how much you love it- Come on-“
That’s really all it takes. Dean’s everywhere around you, his cock bullying into that gooey spot, and your orgasms hits you so hard you think you black out. The heat that had pooled in your stomach explodes and floods all your senses, pouring out of your pussy as your hips buck and you squirm in his grip.
Dean groans your name, and his thrusts get tighter. Faster and more brutal as he chases his own release. It prolongs your own orgasm, forcing it to drag out as you vision dances with spots.
Dean slams home, turning your head to find another, bruising kiss, and now you might be ascending. He’s cumming deep, deep into your pussy, and the sounds get better as he fucks it back into you. Everything in you is so full, you think you might be about to burst with light.
You get a soft kiss on your brow, as his grip loosens around your neck. When he finally settles and tries to pull away, you fumble to grab his wrist, fixing him with a pleading stare. You don’t ever want to be empty again.
“Gotta take care of you, baby.” Dean mutters, kissing the back of your hand. “We can do more later. When you’re talkin’.”
You roll your eyes, and he chuckles, booping your nose. You wrinkle it, and he kisses the angry pout off your lips.
“Silly girl.” He murmurs, and just like that you’re melting again. “Like I could live with myself if I didn’t fuck you again.”
You flush, and roll over to hide it in the sheets. Dean laughs, kissing the base of your spine and slapping your ass before fully standing up.
And you learn another difference between boys and men. All the douchebags you’ve slept with before rolled off of you and started smoking or talking about something unimportant.
Dean gets you water, and coaxes it down your throat. He draws a bath and carries you into it, but not before making sure you pee. He changes the sheets and gets you clean clothing and brings you a snack, smiling at you and kissing the top of your head every single time.
“You’re like a maid.” You mumble once you’re back in bed, curled into his chest.
He laughs, grinning down at you. “Only for my favorite girl.”
“I’m your favorite?”
“Don’t be a brat.” He gives you an amused look. “Don’t think you’d be able to handle another round, honey.”
You sigh dramatically, flopping fully onto his chest. You prop your chin up, watching him watch you. There’s that quiet, unending adoration again. You wish you could see it every second of every day, instead of sneaking out and-
Oh.
“Shit.” You sit up, and Dean grunts, grabbing your waist to keep you steady.
“What, what’s wrong-“
“I- Um- You can’t get mad.”
Dean says your name in a low warning, and you swallow.
“My- My dad- He, um-“
“Sweetheart-“
“He knows!” You blurt. “He’s known for a while, actually, and it’s- It’s actually your fault, you showed him that dick pic and voice memo you sent me-“
“I what-“
“You did it by accident! But you still did it, and-“
“Which one did he hear?” Dean demands, and you cringe.
“The one about- About tying me up.”
Dean goes pale. He groans, tipping his head back and grabbing onto you like he thinks someone’s going to rip you away.
“God fuckin’- I’m dead-“
“No!” You grab his face with a smile. “You’re not! He’s fine with it!”
Dean blinks. “He is?”
You nod. “He- Well, he wants to know when you’re going to marry me, but- Um-“ You laugh nervously. Dean’s older. You just had sex for the first time. He probably doesn’t want to think about that yet. “You know. He’s chill.”
“He’s chill.” Dean echoes.
“Mhm. Except for- The marriage thing.”
Dean hums. He’s relaxed again, dragging his palms in slow circles over your ass. His lips pull into that lazy, satisfied smirk. You flush just from the sight of it.
“What?”
“Nothin’.” He squeezes your waist. “Just tell him to give it a few months.”
“A- Give what-“
Dean raises his brows. Your mouth falls open.
“A few months-“
“I know what I want.” Dean shrugs. And you can see it. Him watching you so, so carefully.
And you smile.
Because you do to.
“Yeah?” You whisper, leaning down to hover your lips over his.
“Yeah.” He mutters. “That alright with you?”
You answer with a kiss, and Dean grunts, immediately rolling you over. And this sweet, slow moment feels like it’s going to last forever.
You hope—you pray—that it does.
✦End note: honestly this might be one of my favorite i hope you enjoyed it.✦
✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦
Jensen was submitted by Prime to be considered for the 78th Primetime Emmy Awards as "Outstanding Supporting Actor In A Drama Series" for his role as Soldier Boy.
Hi I wasn’t sure if you’re up for a soldier boy x reader smut, and if you aren’t maybe switch soldier boy with Jensen? But I had a thought coming to my head of pregnant reader who’s almost ready to pop and she’s getting thirsty after seeing her man build the crib, move this around, especially his biceps. If she didn’t have a baby now she would again. Either that or she isn’t pregnant but after seeing the hot man that he is, she tells him immediately that she wants his baby. Only if you’re up for it!!
Expecting - Soldier Boy x reader
A/N: hey, thanks for your request. It was my first time writing soldier boy, so I tried my best! I hope you like it! :)
warnings: breeding kink, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), pregnant!reader, age gap
YIN has been starring at Ben for the last ten minutes and her nipples are already hard and she’s pressing her thighs together. She bites her lip as she watches his hands work while he’s building their baby’s crib. Fuck, all she wants is to ride his cock right. Well, all she can think about lately is…his cock. His cock inside her or in her mouth. He fucking her from behind, fucking her missionary, fucking her as he spoons her. She riding his cock. Her mind only consists of sex. Which kinda is Ben’s fault, since he put that baby inside her almost nine months ago.
She’s about to pop and Ben noticed a lot of changes about her body, for example her tits are at least a cup bigger than they were before the pregnancy. She got thicker and he definitely noticed that too. Also her belly is so round he knows she can’t see her pussy no more, which is perfect for him, since she isn’t able to shave it anymore. She gets to shave a few parts, but there’s still a bush. He loves being scratched by it whenever he goes down on her, the only bad thing about going down on her right now is, that he can’t see her face, because of that belly. He misses seeing the faces she’s making, when he sucking on her clit, but he’s proud of himself for putting that baby inside her. He’s proud of himself that she’s growing his baby after he’s fucked her.
One thing he noticed a few weeks ago is, that when he’s playing with her nipples, they started leaking and he was totally confused about, because he thoughts tits only leak after the baby is born. Y/N was a little confused about it herself and she blushes, since she was a little embarrassed about it.
Y/N also noticed whenever they’re lying on the couch and Ben’s cock was hard, he started to massage her breasts and then he fucked her. Most of the times, he didn’t care if she was in the mood or not. He wanted to play with her big tits and fuck the pussy, he put a baby inside. Doesn’t matter, because most mornings Y/N would wake him up by either sucking or riding his cock.
Ben used to be into older women, but when Y/N came into his life, he didn’t know how good young pussy can be. He remembers the first time he fucked her. She was so tight and stretched perfectly around his thick cock. He immediately fucked her without a condom, he didn’t care. He just wanted his cock to get wet, real wet. Nothing in-between.
Ben grunts, when one of the screws rolls out of his way and towards Y/N. He turns around, being a little surprised, since he didn’t notice her leaning against the doorway. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” He sighs as he picks up the screw. “I’m bored.” She says as her hand rests on her belly. He looks down at her, seeing her nipples poking through her tank top and her thighs clenched together. He grins to himself. He knows what’s going on, his girl is fucking horny…again. He just fucked her a few hours ago, doesn’t seem to be enough for her. He’s definitely on planning to put another baby inside her, when their son is born. Fucking her since ever she got pregnant has been the hottest thing.
“So you came to watch me work?” He asks as she checks him out shamelessly. His biceps is really distracting even when he’s just holding a tiny screw between his fingers. She just hums absentmindedly. He can’t help, but check her out as well. She’s wearing a tight top, that barely holds her big tits now, and some pjs shorts.
“So how can I help you, huh?” He asks, looking at her as he’s getting on his feet again. He steps towards her and cups one of her tits into one of his rough hands. The hands that were just building their son’s bed. She looks down at his hand cupping her tit and shrugs as she looks up at him, biting her lip. “Maybe less talking and more fucking.” She smiles innocently, leaning into his touch as he starts squeezing her breast. “I can do that.” He grins and turns her around, pulling her shorts down.
He hums as he runs two of his fingers through her folds. “Wet by just watching me.” He mumbles more to himself. She just hums and pushes back against him. He gets on one of his knees again and sniffs her pussy. He groans at the smell and closes his eyes for a moment, just appreciating the smell, before he licks through her folds. She sighs heavily and spreads her legs a little more, her shorts stretching around her legs.
He sighs as he spreads her lips and starts sucking her clit, making her moan and reach for his head pushing him further into her. She looks down and sighs a little in annoyance, since she can’t see him and she misses seeing his grin whenever he was eating her out.
He keeps on sucking until she’s a breathy mess and coming. She moans his name softly as he continues eating her out, helping her ride out her high. He gets back on his feet and pulls his joggers down, relieving his hard cock. He bents her forward, slaps her ass and and strokes his cock as he watches her swollen pussy. Her pussy squeezes slightly when Ben slaps her ass again.
She gets a little impatient and pushes back brushing his cock with her ass. He slaps her ass once more and she moans at that. She moans even louder when he enters her hard. She grips the doorway firmly as Ben starts fucking her from behind immediately. He fucks her so hard, that her tits brush the doorway every time he enters her.
Ben’s close already. Ever since he started fucking her pregnant, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done. It’s the biggest turn on for him. Y/N feels close as well, but only because he’s hitting her spot very well in that position. His right hand reaches under her top and cups her big tit, squeezing firmly before he starts playing with her nipple.
Since the pregnancy, Y/N love when Ben plays with her tits. He twists and pulls her nipples so well, that it makes her pussy clench around his cock. Ben loves the feeling of her clenching around his dick, because of nipple play. He’d love to suck them right now.
She comes suddenly and Ben’s thrusts falter before he comes as well and spills inside her. “I wish I could put another baby inside her.” He breathes out.
Hi I wasn’t sure if you’re up for a soldier boy x reader smut, and if you aren’t maybe switch soldier boy with Jensen? But I had a thought coming to my head of pregnant reader who’s almost ready to pop and she’s getting thirsty after seeing her man build the crib, move this around, especially his biceps. If she didn’t have a baby now she would again. Either that or she isn’t pregnant but after seeing the hot man that he is, she tells him immediately that she wants his baby. Only if you’re up for it!!
Expecting - Soldier Boy x reader
A/N: hey, thanks for your request. It was my first time writing soldier boy, so I tried my best! I hope you like it! :)
warnings: breeding kink, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), pregnant!reader, age gap
YIN has been starring at Ben for the last ten minutes and her nipples are already hard and she’s pressing her thighs together. She bites her lip as she watches his hands work while he’s building their baby’s crib. Fuck, all she wants is to ride his cock right. Well, all she can think about lately is…his cock. His cock inside her or in her mouth. He fucking her from behind, fucking her missionary, fucking her as he spoons her. She riding his cock. Her mind only consists of sex. Which kinda is Ben’s fault, since he put that baby inside her almost nine months ago.
She’s about to pop and Ben noticed a lot of changes about her body, for example her tits are at least a cup bigger than they were before the pregnancy. She got thicker and he definitely noticed that too. Also her belly is so round he knows she can’t see her pussy no more, which is perfect for him, since she isn’t able to shave it anymore. She gets to shave a few parts, but there’s still a bush. He loves being scratched by it whenever he goes down on her, the only bad thing about going down on her right now is, that he can’t see her face, because of that belly. He misses seeing the faces she’s making, when he sucking on her clit, but he’s proud of himself for putting that baby inside her. He’s proud of himself that she’s growing his baby after he’s fucked her.
One thing he noticed a few weeks ago is, that when he’s playing with her nipples, they started leaking and he was totally confused about, because he thoughts tits only leak after the baby is born. Y/N was a little confused about it herself and she blushes, since she was a little embarrassed about it.
Y/N also noticed whenever they’re lying on the couch and Ben’s cock was hard, he started to massage her breasts and then he fucked her. Most of the times, he didn’t care if she was in the mood or not. He wanted to play with her big tits and fuck the pussy, he put a baby inside. Doesn’t matter, because most mornings Y/N would wake him up by either sucking or riding his cock.
Ben used to be into older women, but when Y/N came into his life, he didn’t know how good young pussy can be. He remembers the first time he fucked her. She was so tight and stretched perfectly around his thick cock. He immediately fucked her without a condom, he didn’t care. He just wanted his cock to get wet, real wet. Nothing in-between.
Ben grunts, when one of the screws rolls out of his way and towards Y/N. He turns around, being a little surprised, since he didn’t notice her leaning against the doorway. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” He sighs as he picks up the screw. “I’m bored.” She says as her hand rests on her belly. He looks down at her, seeing her nipples poking through her tank top and her thighs clenched together. He grins to himself. He knows what’s going on, his girl is fucking horny…again. He just fucked her a few hours ago, doesn’t seem to be enough for her. He’s definitely on planning to put another baby inside her, when their son is born. Fucking her since ever she got pregnant has been the hottest thing.
“So you came to watch me work?” He asks as she checks him out shamelessly. His biceps is really distracting even when he’s just holding a tiny screw between his fingers. She just hums absentmindedly. He can’t help, but check her out as well. She’s wearing a tight top, that barely holds her big tits now, and some pjs shorts.
“So how can I help you, huh?” He asks, looking at her as he’s getting on his feet again. He steps towards her and cups one of her tits into one of his rough hands. The hands that were just building their son’s bed. She looks down at his hand cupping her tit and shrugs as she looks up at him, biting her lip. “Maybe less talking and more fucking.” She smiles innocently, leaning into his touch as he starts squeezing her breast. “I can do that.” He grins and turns her around, pulling her shorts down.
He hums as he runs two of his fingers through her folds. “Wet by just watching me.” He mumbles more to himself. She just hums and pushes back against him. He gets on one of his knees again and sniffs her pussy. He groans at the smell and closes his eyes for a moment, just appreciating the smell, before he licks through her folds. She sighs heavily and spreads her legs a little more, her shorts stretching around her legs.
He sighs as he spreads her lips and starts sucking her clit, making her moan and reach for his head pushing him further into her. She looks down and sighs a little in annoyance, since she can’t see him and she misses seeing his grin whenever he was eating her out.
He keeps on sucking until she’s a breathy mess and coming. She moans his name softly as he continues eating her out, helping her ride out her high. He gets back on his feet and pulls his joggers down, relieving his hard cock. He bents her forward, slaps her ass and and strokes his cock as he watches her swollen pussy. Her pussy squeezes slightly when Ben slaps her ass again.
She gets a little impatient and pushes back brushing his cock with her ass. He slaps her ass once more and she moans at that. She moans even louder when he enters her hard. She grips the doorway firmly as Ben starts fucking her from behind immediately. He fucks her so hard, that her tits brush the doorway every time he enters her.
Ben’s close already. Ever since he started fucking her pregnant, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done. It’s the biggest turn on for him. Y/N feels close as well, but only because he’s hitting her spot very well in that position. His right hand reaches under her top and cups her big tit, squeezing firmly before he starts playing with her nipple.
Since the pregnancy, Y/N love when Ben plays with her tits. He twists and pulls her nipples so well, that it makes her pussy clench around his cock. Ben loves the feeling of her clenching around his dick, because of nipple play. He’d love to suck them right now.
She comes suddenly and Ben’s thrusts falter before he comes as well and spills inside her. “I wish I could put another baby inside her.” He breathes out.
A/N: Hey guys, I came across my one shot from three years ago and wanted to give this one a second part. Just to finish and give them a happy ending, since I'm a sucker for happy endings lol
If you haven't read Part 1 please do so ;)
I hope you enjoy!
Pairing: Jensen x female!reader
Warnings: language, smut, p in v, some angst, them being cute
Words: 5.5k
“Jensen I cannot marry you.” She says with a small laugh as she looks around the airport. He steps in front of her blocking her view. She looks up at him as he takes her hand in his. “I don’t want you to go.” He says with a small smile as he squeezes her hand. She sighs softly and closes her eyes for a moment, actually thinking about staying. But she can’t, right? That would be crazy. She loved her stay in Austin, but she needs to go back. Her visa expires tomorrow and she’s panicking she’s going to jail, if she overstays. “I really don’t want to go either, but my visa expires tomorrow. Even if you’d marry me right now, it wouldn’t work.” She says with a sad smile. “I really like you Jensen. I had a great time with you, but you shouldn’t wait for me, okay?” He gives her small smile looking at their intertwined hands and nods. “I know. The States and UK are separated by an ocean.” He tries to joke and Y/N just gives him a small smile. “This kind of long distance wouldn’t work, no.” She agrees and lets out a small sigh.
Jensen cups her face with both of his hands and crashes his lips to hers for one more time. He pulls her closer and kisses her deeply in the airport and he couldn’t care less. She wraps her free arm around his neck to pull him even closer. “I would’ve loved getting to know you better, Y/N Y/L/N.” He mumbles against her lips, when he pulls away, resting his forehead against hers. “Me too, Jensen Ackles.” Both had amazing weeks together. With lots of fun, laughs, deep and great talks, trips, great sex, hot makeout sessions in either his or her apartment. She met great people in Austin and made good friends. She’s going to miss this time a lot.
“Boarding for flight 4675 to London Heathrow will begin shortly.”
She kisses him one last time, resting her hand in his hair. Telling him goodbye without using words. “Goodbye, Jensen.” She says as she steps back, but Jensen steps closer and kisses her one last time. The real last time since he knows she has to get in line for security check. Time already is limited. “Goodbye, Y/N.” He whispers softly before hugging her tightly. They pull away from each other and Y/N gives him sad and teary smile. “Let me know when you’re inside the plane. Just shoot me a text, okay?” She nods, unsure of her own voice. “Okay.” She whispers before walking towards the security check with her little carry on. Jensen watches her go before he looks down at his key dangling from his hand. Seeing the keychain he has gotten years ago. It says, “London, I love you.” Every time he looks at that keychain now and he will think about Y/N. Every time London is mentioned somewhere, he’ll think about Y/N. He sighs to himself and looks up to see her gone already. She’s already through security check and nowhere to be seen.
Y/N just got there in time for boarding. That’s been the first time in her life that she almost missed her flight. But there’s a first time for everything, right? She smiles a little to herself and shakes her head. A few minutes later she’s finally on the plane and sitting in her seat. She quickly grabs her phone and lets him know she’s inside the plane now. She wants to say so much more. She wants to tell him, how much she’s going to miss him. She wants to tell him so many things. She wishes she could tell him, she wants to stay with him, but she knows saying all those things would not make things easier for any of them.
Jensen feels his phone vibrate inside his jeans pocket and takes it out, seeing it’s a text from Y/N.
He doesn’t read the text immediately. He just stares at his phone as he leans against his car in the parking spot. He hopes that the text says more than that she made it to the plane. When he checks the message he feels a little disappointed, but he also knows it’s for the best. He thanks her, for letting him know and gets inside his car. He decides to take the route that takes him longer to get home, just to clear his head a little. He knows they’re probably not going to see each other ever again, because there’s no reason for him to go to London or for her to come to Austin.
Even if they tried long distance, how would that look like? He’s busy with filming. She only has limited vacation days. It’s a dead end and he hates everything about it. From what she told him, she really likes her job and she’s happy where she is. So he doesn’t know, if she’s ever willing to leave her job and the city she grew up in. He remembers how hard it was for him to go LA when he was just eighteen years old. He was scared and he missed Dallas a lot the first few months he was in LA. But LA also helped him grow as a person, but moving to another city is totally different than moving to another country, no another continent. Also doing a big move at eighteen is also different than doing it at thirty. He hates this situation because he knows he can’t do anything about it.
When Y/N gets home the next day. Can she still call it home after she’s been gone for the last six months? She doesn’t know. She closes the door after pushing her suitcases inside her apartment. It’s a weird feeling being back in London, but she also missed her family and friends. But she doesn’t feel as happy as she thought she would be. She plops down on her sofa and takes out her phone, ordering herself some takeout for dinner. She looks out the window that’s right next to her sofa. She’s lucky, because she can see the tower bridge from her apartment. She still loves the view, especially by night. But it doesn’t really feel like home anymore and she can already say that within a few hours of coming home.
Five months later…
Y/N is in the office designing a bedroom for a fresh married couple. They found her company and her work and wanted her to design their bedroom within a budget. They were so cute together, they just moved to London from Germany, because her husband got a job here. They seemed so excited about everything. It was genuinely heart warming listening to and watching them. They are a beautiful couple.
“Y/N, there’s a customer in line, who wants to talk to you.” Ella, one of the assistants tells her and she nods gesturing for Ella to connect her with the customer. Ella nods and does so as Y/N grabs a pen and piece of paper. “Hello, this is Ashbourne Interiors. You are talking to Y/N Y/L/N, how can I help you today?” Y/N tells the customer, holding the pen between her fingers, getting ready to take notes. “Hey, Y/N. It’s Jensen.” Jensen says on the other line and Y/N freezes for a second, because she never expected to hear from him personally again. “Hey, Jensen. Everything alright with your parents’ house?” She asks assuming he’s calling because of them and no other reason.
Jensen frowns slightly, since he’s not calling because of his parents’ home. “Yeah, everything is fine…” He tells her and she chews on her lips. “Okay, why are you calling then?” She asks awkwardly. “I’m in London for the week and I wanted to ask you, if you wanted to grab dinner some time?” He asks her as she scribbles on the piece of paper in front of her. He couldn’t text nor call her, because her phone got stolen two weeks ago. Luckily, she somehow managed to get her pictures back and a few numbers. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to get Jensen’s number back and she thought it was a sign, that she needs to forget him. Honestly, she wants to see him and maybe they have a nice night. After that everyone goes their separate ways again.
“Yes, I would love to. You have something to write?” She says as she hears Jensen looking for something before he answers her. She tells him her new number and that he should text her. She hears her phone ring and sees an unknown number. She saves it to her contacts. “Maybe we could meet today?” Jensen asks her and she thinks about it for a moment, checking the time. It’s 3pm and she finishes work in an hour. If she takes the underground in time, she’ll be home by 5pm.
“Works for me.” She tells him. “How about meeting around 6:30 pm?” He suggests. “We can do that.” She nods to herself. “Great. See you later then.” He says before they hang up and she looks at her office phone for at least a minute.
Jensen already texted her last week, but didn’t get an answer. At first he thought she was ignoring him or simply just didn’t want to meet with him. Then he tried calling her and the provider said, the number doesn’t exist, so he assumed she has a new number. So he waited until he got to London to call her company. He didn’t remember the name of it, so he had to scroll through his E-Mail for at least three hours. He was so happy when he finally found an E-Mail, that had the phone number and the address. Firstly, he considered just showing up at her firm, but that would’ve been kind of weird, since there was no contact for the last months.
The last message they exchanged was that she landed in London safely. That was all. Sure, they could’ve talked weekly, but there was no future and he isn’t sure if there is one right now. He’s being selfish, because he wants to see her. Hold her. Kiss her. Cuddle her. Fuck her. He misses her and he still thinks about her a lot. Fuck, his parents loved her and thought she was a nice girl, but things don’t always work like they should. His friends also liked her a lot and told him she was fun to hang out with. He was excited when he was invited to a premiere in London, because, of course the first thought that came to his mind when he heard about London was Y/N.
Y/N thought about him a lot, because she’s seen him in her magazines, on her tv or laptop. It wasn’t really inevitable. Honestly, what do you expect? He’s a well know actor. But she was over it until after this call. She wasn’t considering saying no for a second. So no she’s not over him. She just hasn’t seen him for months. Glad she isn’t, because she’s going to see him in a few hours.
She’s on her way home when he texts her, letting her know they’re going to meet by the tower bridge, which is convenient for her. She texts him, that it works fine for her. He doesn’t need to know, that she lives close by, yet. Maybe it comes in handy later?
Y/N gets home by five just how she thought, she would. She takes a quick shower and gets ready for her date. It’s 6pm when she leaves her apartment building and walks towards the tower bridge, which is a twenty minute walk. It’s spring. Her favourite season of the year. Not too cold or warm.
She’s been thinking a lot about going to the states again, maybe even move there permanently, but her mom told her, it would be crazy. Her mom said, she has a good paying job people dream of and giving that up wouldn’t be the smartest move. Said the woman, who’s traveling the world after Y/N’s dad died and has been home only a few times. Her friends told her the same as her mom, but she wasn’t going to listen to them. Sure she missed them, but they all have kids now and she doesn’t. Since she’s back, she’s seen her friends only like four times. Her brother was the only one who told her to just do it, but then she got scared, because the jobs in the states she was checking out, weren’t paying like hers in London. So she scratched that plan and hasn’t been thinking about it until the moment Jensen called her.
When she gets to the tower bridge, she already sees him. He’s wearing a white shirt and a jeans jacket over it. He looks even better than she remembers. Fuck, he’s handsome. She’s also getting nervous all of a sudden, because what if it is weird after not seeing each other after five months. In that moment, he turns around and gives her his famous smile as he spots her. He starts walking towards her and Y/N gives him a smile as well. “Hey, it’s my favorite British girl.” He says and almost immediately pulls her into his arms when they are close enough.
As soon as she’s in his arms, she realizes how much she has missed him. She hugs him back tightly and squeezes him. When she looks up at him, he’s already looking down at her. He can’t help himself and leans down, capturing his lips with hers and kiss her softly and deeply, showing her how much he missed her too. He pulls away a moment later, but she just pulls him in again and kisses him deeply as well. He melts into her and just holds her close as they kiss in front of hundreds of tourists, but he couldn’t care less.
“I missed you.” He says when they pull away from each other. “I missed you too.” She says and pecks his lips once more. He smiles and can’t help, but kiss her again. She smiles against his lips and kisses him back softly. Y/N pulls away a moment later. “Okay enough kissing.” She jokes and adjusts her glasses as she looks up at him. “Enough? I don’t think so.” He says playfully and she just shakes her head. “We can continue later.” She suggests and he just nods as he intertwines their hands.
“So where are we going?” Y/N asks curiously as they walk down the bridge and towards millennial bridge. “A friend of my co-worker opened his own restaurant. It’s Italian.” He smiles and squeezes her hand. She looks up at him and smiles. “Sounds great. Have you been there before?” She asks him and he shakes his head no. “No, I haven’t had the chance to check it out, yet.” She just nods. “What is it called? Maybe I’ve been there before.” He takes his phone out and looks into the E-Mail. “It’s called “Casa Bellarosa”.” She thinks for a moment. “Okay, no. I haven’t been there, yet.” She smiles and he just nods.
They get to the restaurant about 15 minutes later, making some casual small talk, just checking up a little. There’s a lot they need to talk about, but none of them has the courage to do so. Jensen places his hand on the small of her back as they enter the restaurant, mentioning his reservation number. The waiter checks on it in his little book by the front and nods before leading them to their table.
The restaurant radiates understated luxury, tucked behind a row of glowing storefronts like a well-kept secret. Soft golden light spilled from crystal chandeliers onto polished marble floors, while dark walnut panels and velvet seating gave the space an intimate warmth. Fresh white lilies stood in tall vases between tables dressed in crisp linen and fine silverware.
The air carries the rich aroma of garlic, rosemary, truffle oil, and slow-simmered tomato sauce, blending with the faint scent of expensive wine and candle wax. A pianist plays softly near the back of the room, the melody weaving through the low murmur of wealthy guests and the occasional clink of champagne glasses.
Waiters in tailored black uniforms move gracefully between tables, speaking in hushed voices and treating every guest as if they belonged to old money and influence. Along one wall, an impressive wine display stretches from floor to ceiling, filled with rare vintages from Tuscany and Sicily.
Y/N felt a little out of place as she looks around. She works with rich people and she lives in London, which is expensive, but she doesn’t earn that kind of money to visit a restaurant of this kind. She feels a little shy as Jensen helps her sit down on her seat. Jensen sits down in front of her and smiles. “Here’s the wine card and the menu.” The waiter says with a polite smile before walking away, giving them some time to decide.
“Wow.” Y/N breathes out as she grabs the menu and sees the prices of the dishes. Jensen smiles at her and checks the menu. He knows it’s a little more elegant, but he doesn’t mind. Even if he’s not going to see her again, but he just wants the best for her and spoil her a little. “You know what you want?” Jensen asks as he shuts the menu carefully. Y/N shakes her head no absentmindedly. “Take your time. Dinners on me.” That catches her attention and she looks up at him. “You do not have to pay for my dinner.” She says, her British accent heavy. He smiles and reaches across the table and takes her hand in his. “I know, but I want to . Just let me.” He says softly and she sighs little, but nods, giving in.
The waiter comes by a few minutes later and takes their orders. “We’d like to have a Chardonnay as well.” Jensen adds after their food orders. “Excellent choice, Mr. Ackles.” The waiter says as he writes it down before walking off. Y/N can’t help, but look around again. “You like it here?” Jensen asks as he notices. “Yes. I just have never been to a place like this before.” She admits with a small blush, feeling a bit embarrassed that he caught her. “Really?” He asks curiously. She nods still blushing a little and smiles shyly as he takes her hand in his again.
Jensen takes a deep breath, trying to work up the courage to ask her why she never called or texted, but he doesn’t know if that’s fair, because he didn’t do it himself. “Why are you in London, Jensen?” She asks him before he could ask his questions. A tiny part of her wishes it was because of her and not some work related event he has to attend. “I was invited to a red carpet event.” She just nods, because that makes sense the most. “Why did you call me?” She asks honestly. She just wants to know what his attentions are. Are they serious? Is he just here to have some fun with her? Or did he just want to see her again?
He sighs. “I missed you. Like a lot. I’ve been thinking about you almost every day. I thought not seeing or hearing from you would make it easy to get over you, but it wasn’t. We’ve spent a great time before you left and I felt so much in such a short of time, so I don’t know if I could have left London without seeing you.” He admits honestly, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.
She gives him a small smile. “I looked for jobs in the states, but I didn’t really find anything, that pays well enough.” She says with a small sigh. “But living expanses in the states are different than the one here.” He says softly and she nods, because she knows that, but still, she doesn’t know if she’d be happy there. “I know that, but…I don’t know.” She sighs softly. “I like my co-workers and I want to stay at Ashbourne Interiors.” He nods, understanding where’s she’s coming from. He wouldn’t want to work on another show if he had the choice. He loves working with Jared, Misha and Mark.
“I get it.” He nods and just gives her a small smile, knowing there won’t be a chance for them unless one of them sacrifices something. “But I’m willing to move if I find a job that peaks my interest, because not seeing where this thing between us goes would be worse.” She says softly and gives him a small smile. “I’m scared of going and being there alone.” Jensen frowns slightly. “You wouldn’t be alone, I’m there too. We could look for a place together.” He suggests as he adjusts in his seat, scooting a little forward in his chair. “I want to try.” He says softly as he looks at her. Y/N looks at him, feeling her heart warm at his words. Sure, she loves her job and co-workers, but being unhappy because she can’t have him is worse. “Okay.” She says and smiles at him squeezing his hand gently and assuringly.
Three years later…
Y/N and Jensen moved in together about four months later after their dinner and a hot night of sex. More like week of sex. It all what they did during the week Jensen was in London. Okay, that’s not completely true. Jensen also encouraged her to talk to her boss if she could work permanently in their office in Dallas. Her boss was delighted, because the location manager was out to retire and he wasn’t sure who he was going to send there. Jensen and Y/N celebrated that she got the job and started packing some of her stuff into boxes she either wanted to take to the States or donate. They shipped some of her clothes and other things to his parents’ house in Austin. The rest was donated.
Two weeks later she flew out to Dallas to get to know her co-worker and work flow of the office. The people were so nice and also excited to get someone young as their new boss. Y/N was nervous to become a leader even though she was the deputy in the office of London, but becoming a boss was totally different than just being the deputy. But she managed and the office in Dallas is quite successful now. The customers like Y/N’s ideas and sense for decoration. She’s also very good when it comes to a budget. She was even in a magazine just a year of working there.
Jensen and Y/N found a cute little house in Dallas and moved in together after Y/N designed the whole house…of course. But she didn’t do it like she always did. It’s their house and she made it very comfy and homy. Jensen loves coming home, because of her it finally feels like home. The first night they really moved in and actually slept there. He kept asking her if her being here and them living together is real. She laughed and kissed him. They hosted dinners and birthday parties. Jensen loved everything about it. He loved helping her cook and bake when friends came over. He loved their cuddling, make out sessions, talks , binge watching and many other things. He loved coming home. Coming home to her.
Last year Y/N and Jensen got married. He popped the question in Rome when Jensen was attending a convention and her mom was also in Rome at that time. So she only flew out with him, because of her mom, because she knew Jensen was going to be busy.
After they took her mom to the airport, she and Jensen went on walk through Rome. He showed her his favourite spots and also typical sights, since she’s never been to Italy. He bought them some really good gelato and when he let go of her hand to ‘clean’ his hands, he went down on one knee and asked her to marry him. She just licked some of her gelato when she turned around and saw him on his knee holding out a velvet box with the most beautiful ring. She coughed and covered her mouth. “Oh my god!” She coughed and he just laughed even though he was totally nervous. “Y/N, will you marry me?” He asked after her coughing calmed down. “Yes!” She exclaimed and smiled happily. She looked so cute and excited, it warmed his heart. He knew it was the right decision to wait for her.
He slipped the ring on her ring finger before he kissed her, tasting some gelato on her lips. She smiled against his lips. “My mother knew, didn’t she?” She mumbled against his lips. He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, otherwise you wouldn’t have come here with me.” She just laughed and shook her head before kissing him again.
Now, it’s their first wedding anniversary and Jensen planned this little spa trip for them. He surprised her this morning and told her, they will be leaving when she comes home from work. She then told him, she took the day off because of their anniversary. So they left this morning and decided to walk around the little town their spa is in, before they could check in.
Y/N checks the watch on her wrist. “We can go to the hotel and check in now.” She says softly and smiles at him as he takes her hand in his. “Sounds good to me.” They walk back to the hotel and check in. They get to their room after and Y/N gasps as she sees the bed. The bed is covered in rose petals. “Jensen…” She draws out his name as he wraps his arms around her. “Everything for my favorite British girl.” He hums and pecks her lips gently. “How about some champagne?” He suggests as he pulls away and walk towards one of the nightstands to grab two glasses. “Maybe later?” She asks softly and wraps her arms around him from behind kissing his back gently. “Okay.” He says softly and takes her left hand in his, kissing her ring finger gently and she smiles against his back.
He turns around in her arms and plays with her wedding and engagement ring. “You don’t know how lucky I am to call you my wife.” He says softly. “Oh, really?” She jokes as she looks up at him and he hums. “Especially, when it comes to that ass of yours.” He hums as his hand slips down her ass, squeezing firmly. She grins and cups his ass as well, before getting on her tiptoes and kissing him hungrily.
He walks her towards the bed and lies her down before he takes his shirt off. She takes her top off as well, exposing her tits to him. “Fuck.” He hums as he sees her tits. After all those years, he’s till not used of the sight when he sees her naked tits. His cock is already swollen in his jeans. She spreads her legs, showing him she’s not wearing any underwear under her skirt. “You dirty little thing.” He grins and shakes his head to himself as he unbuckles his belt. “Turn around.” He commands and Y/N turns around, getting on her knees. She bites her slip as he hears him unzip his jeans.
He sighs in relief as he pulls his jeans down. His cock is already completely hard ready for her pussy to wrap around him. He steps out of his jeans as Y/N wiggles her ass in front of him and he slaps her ass firmly, causing her to moan. His cock twitches at the sound of her moan before he slaps her ass again. She moans again and he quickly gets rid of his boxers. He hunches her skirt around her waist with his left hand as his right hand starts to explore her folds. “Already wet.” He mumbles to himself as one of his fingers enter her and she pushes back greedily. He pulls his finger out before he gets on his knees on the floor and licks through her folds instead. She moans loudly in surprise as she feels his tongue on her pussy, because she expected him to just fuck her.
He spreads her cheeks as he licks through her folds once more before he starts sucking on her clit, nibbling gently. She lets out a heavy sigh, cupping her own tit as he laps his tongue against her clit, causing her to jolt back and push against his mouth. She already feels close when she feels him finger her with two of his fingers. She moans at the feeling and clenches around his fingers as he sucks harshly. Her mouth falls open, letting out a small gasp, and she squeezes tightly around his fingers, reaching her orgasm. Jensen hums against her clit and keeps on sucking gently, helping her ride out her high.
He pulls away, but doesn’t give her a break, because his fingers are replaced quickly with his cock. She hums at the feeling of his cock stretching her, lowering herself so just her ass is in the air, so he can hit a better angle. He bites his lip at the sight, squeezing her ass firmly. He spreads her cheeks again as he starts thrusting, watching himself disappear inside her as he fucks her and her pussy stretching around him. It’s his favorite sight.
He starts to move faster and harder and her moans becoming louder with every thrust. The only sound in the room are her moans and their skin clapping. He reaches around her front and cups one of her tits, playing with her nipple and twisting it firmly. Y/N feels her eyes roll back and toes curl. He’s hitting her spot deliciously, because she’s feeling her second orgasm approaching. Jensen can tell, that she’s close so he tries to move faster and thrust harder. “Jens.” She moans loudly as she comes on his cock. He groans feeling close himself as he fucks her though her orgasm. Y/N feels his movements falter a little, knowing he’s about to come as well, so she pushes back against him lazily helping him. He squeezes her ass firmly, so his nails leave marks on her left cheek as he spills inside her.
He rubs her back lazily and slaps her ass once more before he pulls out of her and lies down next to her, pulling her into his arms. She snuggles into him and kisses his chest gently as Jensen rubs her back gently. “What a fun way to start the weekend.” He grins and Y/N hums in agreement, a lazy smile on her lips. Jensen reaches for the champagne and fills their glasses. He offers her a glass and she shakes her head no. Jensen frowns slightly. “Still no champagne?” He pouts slightly. “I want to, but I can’t drink.” He turns slightly as he sits up, so he can fully look at her now. “Why not? Are you sick?” He asks a little worriedly. She sits up and gives him a shy smile as she shakes her head no. She takes his empty hand in hers and places it on her belly. “No. I’m pregnant.” He swallows his sip slowly, looking at her as if he’s in shock. She frowns slightly, since she expected him to say something. “Jens-“ She starts. “You’re pregnant?” He whispers as he rubs her belly gently. She smiles at him and nods. “Yes. We are having a baby.” She says softly as she places her hand on top of his. He places his glass back on his nightstand and kisses her forehead gently.
“You’re going to be a mom.” He whispers as he rests his head on top of hers. “And you’re going to be a dad.” She says softly. Jensen feels happy and excited about becoming a dad, because he’s been dreaming of becoming one for the last years. “That’s the best anniversary gift.” He tells her and kisses her forehead once more, causing Y/N to melt into him even more. She kisses his neck gently and he smiles.
“I’m so glad you called me when you were in London back then.” She tells him softly as she leans back to look at him properly. She thought, it was her sign that she and Jensen should just try. The beginning wasn’t easy. No beginning is. She had some doubts if leaving London was the right thing, but it was. “Yeah, me too.” He says softly and pecks her lips once more.
