you guys really need to stop saying that people don't contribute to a fandom unless they're making fanart or writing fanfics or doing something creative where the final output is "content".
i've seen enough posts parroting this sentiment that makes me believe it's not just one person's dumb take, but a growing belief and that boggles my mind.
commenting, engaging, encouraging, and yes, even geeking out about your favorite artist or your favorite fic IS contributing to a fandom. it is vital to the general fandom ecosystem, the way creating and sharing fanworks is!
who the fuck is gonna make content for a fandom if no one comments about it? "content" is art. art is meant to be engaged with. people are making this art (writing is art, meta is poetry, it's art) with the intent to reach people who feel the way they did when they made it, or to invoke those same feelings with people who will understand them.
engagement with your fandom is the lifeblood of your fandom.
fic writing leads you to the strangest places. Like when soy sauce was invented, and the average time it took to dry chestnuts, and if the stars would have appreciably moved in the sky in a thousand years
fuck, I just realized that if I spend my life being too intimidated to make art then that means I don't even get to make bad art. I end up making NO art. that's way worse
Summary: Áine O'Connell has been hunting, mostly alone, for years. She has a run in with Sam and Dean and makes what she hopes will be valuable contacts in the hunting community. She'll get far more than that.
Áine = Anya
Tags: Dean Winchester x Female OC. Violence. Some drinking. Eventually there will be smut, fluff, angst, and so on.
Word Count: 1890
Author's Note: I haven't written fanfiction in about a decade but I started rewatching Supernatural and got heated about writing choices. I was venting to my husband about how I wished they had given Dean a romance with another hunter, someone who could really hold her own in a fight and couldn't stop thinking about it. So, here is my version of how I think that should have been done. (No shade to Jo, there are so many reasons why the potential for her character got squandered. I am forever mad about that.)
----------
Chapter One - After Dark
Normally Dean liked the feeling of a woman straddling him, thighs tensed around him, but not when she was holding a machete to his throat. He was barely holding her back from cutting his head off, with his knife being used to block the blade and his other hand pushing back against her. He risked shifting his hand closer to his face.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he said as he lifted his top lip and pressed on his gums, “not a vampire.”
She stared down at him with unchanging intensity for a moment as she assessed him before finally lifting the machete. “Well, shit.” She carefully lifted herself off of him before offering a hand up. “You with anyone else?”
“Just my brother.” Dean grunted slightly as he accepted her help. He was sore enough from fighting a vampire on his own yesterday, he did not need the extra bruises from getting knocked to a rough cement floor.
She nodded as she surveyed the room. “And where would he be?”
“We split up to cover more ground.”
“Wow, smart. I'm sure that has never backfired on you.” Dean glared at her as she pressed her lips together tightly, as if she hadn't meant to let the comment slip.
“Yeah, and who are you with?”
“No one. Which means no liabilities.”
Dean felt his jaw tighten in further irritation before a soft creaking of a floorboard alerted them they were no longer alone.
“Don't you two know that being quiet is important when hunting?” One of the vampires said mockingly as they came into the dim light.
“Well, looks like you haven't figured that out eith-” Dean was cut short by a second vampire jumping him.
“Aw, fuck.” Áine grumbled as the first vampire lunged for her. She barely dodged and managed to hit them in the back of the neck with her machete, but not deep enough. They’d moved to fast for her to get a solid hit. The vampire reached back to touch the wound and snarled.
“I’m going to enjoy draining you, bitch.” He came at her again, reaching for her throat. Áine nearly managed to evade him, trying to go for a side hit at his neck, but he caught the hood of her jacket. All her momentum was stopped suddenly as she was yanked back toward him.
He wrapped one arm around her neck and reached for her arm with the machete. Áine flipped the machete to point downwards and stabbed down into his thigh. The vampire yelled in pain but wasn’t quite loosening his grip, so Áine used all the strength she could muster to cut through the muscle and out of him. He finally let go and dropped to his knees. She turned around and wasted no time in beheading him.
Áine turned to the other hunter to see he had also just finished off his attacker. They shared a look for a moment before continuing further into the nest. The sounds of fighting reached them before they could see anything and Dean heard Sam cry out in pain. His eyes flashed with a protective anger and he clenched his jaw. He went from swift and stealthy to bull in a china shop immediately. The door between them and the action was locked. Dean wasted no time in kicking it open and charging in. Áine sighed in frustration at the sudden guns blazing approach but followed anyway.
----
“It’s nice to have some help.” Sam says with a grateful smile, as Áine finished putting a quick bandage on his most pressing wound. “Oh, I'm Sam, by the way. And you are?”
“Áine.” She glanced over at the slightly shorter brother, realizing she'd never asked his name. He was busy getting the survivors into his car. “Áine O'Connell.”
----
They made plans to meet for food and drinks to blow off steam. Áine took a long shower, letting her muscles relax and thoroughly getting off all the filth. There was something so soothing about watching the blood wash off and go down the drain.
She arrived earlier than she meant to and found a booth toward the back where she could keep an eye on the entrance. She ordered herself a drink, three waters for the table, and a couple appetizers. They arrived shortly after she had started on her first Grateful Dead.
“Hey, Áine!” Sam had an infectious smile. She couldn't help but feel like she was looking at a puppy.
“Hey there, Sam and…I never did get your name…” She said as she looked at Dean. Sam looked at his brother, seemingly surprised.
“Oh, right. I'm Dean.” He said, his voice gruff. He sat on her side of the booth and gestured to her drink.“So, Áine, what you drinkin'?”
“A Grateful Dead. They're pretty tasty here and good bang for your buck.” She smiled at him before pretending to look over the menu again. “I ordered a couple appetizers, I know I'm always starving after a hunt.”
Dean seemed to light up at that, and even more so as the fried green beans and chicken bacon ranch fries arrived at the table. Sam laughed at the way Dean dug into the food as the waitress walked away, after taking their drink orders. “Well, you figured out how to win my brother over real quick.”
“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean grumbled with a full mouth, a piece of bacon flying out at Sam.
“Dude!” Sam threw his balled up straw wrapper at his older brother, who dodged it.
Áine couldn't contain an escaping chuckle at their antics, though it brought a familiar twinge of pain. It must be nice to have family.
“Sorry about Dean, he got hit on the head and forgot how to not eat like a caveman.” Sam said as he gave Dean a pointed stare.
“Yeah, whatever. Some of us actually do enough work to have an appetite. How many times have I saved your ass this week?” Dean shoved another handful of cheesy fries into his mouth.
“Okay, moving on from the adorable bickering,” Áine quickly said as she shoved a few fries in her mouth before Dean ate them all. “How long have you two been doing this?”
“Bickering? Since Sammy learned to speak…”
Áine rolled her eyes.
“Since we were kids. Family thing.” Sam said as he finally grabbed a fried green bean.
Áine decided not to ask further, that kind of answer indicated more than enough. “That explains why you seem to know your shit.”
“What about you?” Dean asked.
“Since high school. So, I counted 9 vamps in the nest, all dealt with, any others?”
“I got two on the further side of the warehouse, I thought there were 12 total.” Sam turned pensive. “We definitely got their leader though…hopefully one loose end won't be hard to tie up.”
“High school?” Dean raised an eyebrow and turned to her.
“Uh, yeah?” She wasn’t sure what was confusing about that.
“What, like Buffy?” He gave her a mischievous grin and she rolled her eyes.
“Yup, exactly like Buffy. Minus the banging of hot, broody, vampires.”
“But were you a cheerleader? Tell me you were a cheerleader.” Dean gave her a smirk that would have been charming, if it wasn’t for the fact that his mouth was stuffed with partially eaten food as he spoke.
“Dean,” hissed Sam as he glared at his brother.
“It’s fine, Sam.” She smiled at him, sympathetic but amused. “Sorry to disappoint, but no. Not a pom-pom kinda girl.”
“Damn. Well, anyway, even if we can’t find that one it isn’t the end of the world. I’d rather get ‘em all but,” Dean shrugs and finally stopped eating long enough to drink some water.
“Honestly, I agree. We can check around but they’re probably long gone.” Áine nodded and took a sip of her drink.
Gradually, the conversation shifted toward more normal topics. Music, movies, and shit shows on the basic cable in motels. She discussed nerdy documentaries with Sam and old westerns with Dean. They had a lot in common, though Dean was disappointed to find she did not agree that all music after 1979 was crap.
“Come on, nothing beats 70’s music, especially 70’s rock!” Dean drained the last of his beer, waiting for Sam to finish deciding how much to tip before they left.
“It was an amazing era, I’m not disputing that. But you’re really going to tell me that nothing Queen put out after 1979 was good? Lynyrd Skynyrd? Black Sabbath? Ozzy? Everything they all did after ‘79 was crap?” She gestured widely with her hands, thumping her hand on the table for emphasis with every band she listed.
Dean opened his mouth to respond but found himself speechless. No one had ever put it that way before. Sam looked over at him, a bit surprised to hear no retort. They’d finally found someone who could shut Dean up, and about music no less.
“Not to mention, there are good bands today. The music is different and that’s a good thing, it’d be boring as fuck if music hadn’t evolved since the 70’s. Have you ever listened to Linkin Park, Rage Against The Machine, Red Hot Chili Peppers? Fuckin’ Metallica, dude.”
“Metallica, I like.” Dean nodded, he had to give her that one.
Áine feigned a gasp. “A band that started in 1981?But Dean, I thought you said…”
“Okay, okay.” He shook his head, throwing his hands up in defeat and started to get up from the table. “But after the 80’s music really has started to go downhill.”
“Shifting the goalpost, huh? My previous points still stand and you know I’m right.” She stuck her tongue out at him as she started to scoot out of the booth.
Dean made a halfhearted attempt to hide his smile as he moved out of her way. She was certainly keeping him on his toes, he liked that. Sam was chuckling but keeping his thoughts to himself as he threw down some cash to cover the tip.
“You need a ride, Áine?” Sam asked as they walked out the door together into the chilly night.
“Nah, I drove.” Part of her was sad the evening was coming to an end. “This was nice. I hope I see you two again sometime.”
“Yeah, likewise.” Sam smiled at her and then seemed to have a thought as he pulled out his phone. “Oh, wait, we should exchange numbers. You know, in case you ever need help or something.”
That made her smile. She didn’t have that many contacts in the hunter world and even fewer she actually liked. Now she had two more. They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways for the night. Before Áine drove off, she checked her phone for any messages and smiled. One of the few other hunters she liked had asked her to check in. She hit dial and waited for him to pick up.
“About damn time you called, kid.” Bobby grumbled immediately.
“It’s nice to hear from you too, Bobby.” She smiled. “I got busy, met some other hunters, actually. They were on the same job.”
“Ya don’t say?”
“Yeah, you know two brothers named Sam and Dean?” She raised an eyebrow as Bobby let out a deep sigh.
on my rewatch of spn again and just hearing the way dean consoles sam with words he himself needs to hear too. dean is obviously worried about their dad being gone. dean just witnessed sam go through the same shit his dad went through all those years back. the ptsd must be hitting. and yet dean says he keeps his patience with finding the damn creature that killed mary (and now jess) by helping families that go through those same horrors. because it offers a bit of good in the world. almost his own way of tryna fix things. but then he admits with complete certainty that killing as many bad things help to ease the anger too. both these confessions, so soft yet hateful, is so beautifully human of dean and so innocent of him. he’s just doing the best he can as a brother and adult at 26.
My favorite thing about fanfic authors is they can identify any gap in a canon timeline where characters are offscreen and exploit the ever living fuck out of it
There is no drug on earth that can replicate the absolute euphoria of hitting a writing flow state at 2:00 AM. You aren’t even typing anymore. You are a vessel. You are a channel for the gods. The characters are speaking directly into your brain and you’re just the stenographer trying to keep up. You feel like you could fight a bear. You feel like you invented the alphabet
✦Read on a03! - Masterlist - Dean Masterlist✦
✦pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader✦
✦summary: A life without pain suits Dean. Comfort, and happiness, without any shadows in the closet and only imagined monsters under the bed. And he spends that comfort taking care of you, in more ways than one.✦
✦warnings/tags: tooth-rotting fluff, children, pre-established relationship, shameless smut (voice kink, mutual mastubation), no use of y/n✦
✦author's note: Dad Dean fics return! Also a smut request fulfillment, so if you just want the juicy bits, skip to the end. Enjoy!✦
“Your children are awake.” You murmur in Dean’s ear, and he chuckles.
“My children, huh?”
“Yep.”
He hums, pulling you tighter into his arms. His nose grazes against the back of your neck, his lips finding a soft spot that’s still sensitive from last night.
Date night.
Sam and Eileen had watched the kids, and you’d gone on the rare, near-extinct date night. They’d been scared after Charlie. Nearly unheard of after Ella.
How you’d ended up with Mavis, because Dean liked to groan in your ear about filling you up and getting you pregnant again, and you always forget that when he uses his sex voice, you forget how to say no to him.
And you think he might have a deal with some supernatural force, that he won’t kill them if they keep rolling the dice in his favor. Because he’d gotten number three. If he keeps this up—nuzzling your bare skin, running his strong hand up your thigh and along the crease of your panties, like he’s trying to brand his path from last night—he’s going to get number four.
Because you’d forgotten the dangers of date night. It’s not like you’re never romantic outside of it. Not like you never touch each other. There had been a pretty close call a few months ago, where Charlie had a nightmare, Dean had forgotten to lock the door, and you’d only just had enough reaction time to shove him deeper under the covers and pull them over your breasts.
But date night is a different beast. Date night reminds you that you can’t slam down six shots anymore, because you get wasted after one.
Date night is devoted completely to Dean, acting like he’s never going to see you again once the sun rises.
Fucking you like he hasn’t been allowed to in twenty years. Trying to make you loud, because there are no kids to hide from.
Doing his stupid, hot drawl, and fucking his cum back into you after you’re done.
Which is exactly how you ended up with Mavis.
So yeah. Right now, they’re his children.
“They gonna break the door down, De.” You mumble, resting your hand over his. It’s snaked under your shirt, splayed on your stomach. Like he can’t even help himself.
He pulls you closer. Kisses right under your ear. “Let ‘em. Buys us more time.”
“Dean, I’m barely wearing anything-“
“I know. ’S hot.”
You twist to glare at him, and he just grins back. The wide, smug and boyish grin that used to make you want to shove him until he landed on his ass, then climb on top of him and let him have whatever he wanted from you. It still does the latter. But now it’s accompanied by a rush of affection, and a stupid smile of your own.
He’s such an idiot.
But he’s your idiot. And you adore him.
You lean forward, and kiss the corner of his mouth. His hand shoots up to cradle the back of your head, trying to deepen the kiss. You let him, and he groans into your mouth. You roll further over, hiking your leg over his hip. He grabs your ass, squeezing it once, and your hips roll against his growing crotch.
“Already standing at attention, Mr. Winchester?” You mumble into the kiss, and he grunts.
“Not as old as you think I am.”
You giggle, running your nails down his chest. “I dunno. You’re pretty old- Dean-“
He takes your words as a challenge. Of course he does.
You squeal as he flips you over, grumbles about bein’ young enough to keep up with your smartass, and starts to grind his erection over your core. Your back arches, you moan into his mouth, your body goes loose as his hands start to wander anywhere he can grab, and-
“Daddy!”
Dean freezes over you, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling again. He looks like someone just handed him a massive pie only to yank it away. Like this is somehow the worst thing to ever happen to him.
The door to your bedroom rattles, being pounded by at least two tiny fists. Dean groans, and drops his face into your shoulder.
“Daddy, why is the door locked?” That’s Ella, and you hear the doorknob rattle.
You can almost hear Charlie’s eye roll. “Because he locked it, stupid.”
“I’m not stupid.” Ella shrieks. “Daddy, Charlie called me stupid!”
“No, I didn’t-“
“Yes, you did- Daddy-“ You can hear the tears coming. “Daddy, tell Mommy Charlie called me stupid-“
Dean sighs, and you smile at him as he pushes up.
“You’re a saint,” you murmur, running your fingers through his hair.
“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbles, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Get some rest, baby.”
You try to move up to your elbows. “I can help-“
“Nope.” Dean gently shoves you back down, pulling the sheets higher over your body. “Sleep in. I got it.”
You start to protest, but Dean leans down and kisses the breath right out of your mouth.
“They’re my children.” He smirks against your lips. “I gottem.”
If you had a stronger will, you’d tell him they were your children too. That you wanted to help, and you’d just been teasing before, and if Ella does start crying it’s going to take a full half-hour to calm her down, so he’ll need two pairs of hands.
But you’ve long learned that, when it comes to Dean, you have no will at all. So you let him tuck you back in, and close your eyes as he shuffles out of bed.
There are delighted shrieks from your daughters, as he reveals himself. Then louder screams of accusations and requests to see you and let you settle it.
Dean shushes them softly, closing the door behind him.
“Mommy’s sleeping, girls.” You hear, muffled through the door. “Let’s go hold tribunal in the kitchen.”
He herds them away, and you smile into the pillow. He’s got it.
You fall back asleep easily, your face buried in Dean’s abandoned pillow. When you get up, the sun has long risen, and is leaking peacefully through the blinders. You move slowly, because there’s no rush anymore.
Dean made you buy a real house, after Charlie started at preschool. He’d almost begged you to leave the bunker, to move to somewhere quiet and good. Somewhere the girls could have playdates. That he could mow the lawn, and sit on the porch. Where you could decorate together, and only babyproof the stairs instead of a whole series of weapons rooms and dungeons.
It hadn’t taken that much convincing. And Dean had done most of the moving and housework himself, stopping every second to ask your opinion but committing himself to the renovation.
You mentioned, in passing, that maybe he should hire contractors. Just for the kitchen and the bathrooms.
He’d taken it personally, and done the whole thing with only a little help from Cas. Then he’d picked you up, and fucked you on the counter with an expression so smug you’d worried he’d burst his head.
But he deserved it. He’d made a damn nice kitchen.
He’d knocked you up again, and proved that you did in fact, need a bigger, safer house. The bunker is nothing but an echo of a memory, for Charlie. Ella and Mavis will never step foot in those long, dark halls at all.
There are no more cartoons in the Dean Cave, where he’d balance Charlie on his knee and watch Scooby Doo until one of them—usually Dean—passed out. Now you have the little, sunlight filled den off the living room.
You lean in the doorway, smiling silently as you watch the four of them. Charlie sitting next to Dean, rocking back and forth, watching the TV with wide eyes. Ella playing on the floor, obviously listening but tucked in her own little world. Dean sprawled on the couch, Mavis napping on his chest as he watches the cartoon with the exact same—if not more intent—expression as Charlie.
Ella sees you first. Shouts Mommy, and rushes across the room to wrap herself around your leg.
“Hi, baby,” you murmur, picking her up and kissing her brow. “You having fun?”
She nods eagerly, pulling at your hair. “Daddy made waffles.”
“Did he?” You glance to Dean, who grins lazily at you.
“They said please.”
“Hmm.” You look back to Ella. “Did Daddy let you have syrup?”
Ella gives you a toothy grin, leaning to whisper in your ear. “I finished the bottle.”
Dean cringes—Ella’s terrible at whispering—and you shoot him a half-amused, half-exasperated look.
“That bottle was almost full-“
“Hey, I had more than she did.” He raises his hand in surrender. “And it was a compromise.
“Daddy.” Charlie snaps, whacking Dean’s leg. “Watch the TV.”
Dean frowns. “I am watching, kiddo.”
She shoots him an unimpressed look. “You’re talking to Mommy.”
“Well, Mommy is beautiful, and deserves being talked to, and looked at, and she can be a lot more entertaining than the TV-“
“Dean.”
He winks at you, and Ella giggles.
“Daddy’s in trouble.”
“No.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Not yet.”
Dean chuckles. “Promises, sweetheart.”
Goddamn the man. “Never mind, Ella. Daddy is in trouble.”
For someone who’s about to be dropkicked, Dean looks pretty fucking smug with himself. His voice is the low, promising drawl that he’s not supposed to use around the kids, because he knows what it does to you.
“Daddy is doing everything he’s supposed to,” his grin widens, at the murderous look in your eyes. “And you haven’t even heard about the deal he got with the girls. They got hustled, baby, you’ll be proud of him.”
You give him a flat look. “Stop referring to yourself in the third person, Daddy.”
His eyes light up, and dropkicking is too light a punishment. “Yes, ma’am. You wanna hear my deal?”
You sigh, but nod, brushing a little hair out of Ella’s eyes. Dean grins.
“They got the sugar. Didn’t fight me on brushin’ their teeth or the veggies.”
You raise your brows, looking between Ella and Charlie. “You ate your veggies?”
Charlie nods, still mostly focused on the TV, and Ella grabs your face between her hands with that same happy grin.
It’s Dean’s smile.
Sometimes you wonder if he’d be this happy all the time, if it wasn’t for John.
“I had carrots.” Ella whispers. “And tomatoes.”
“And tomatoes?” You laugh softly, looking back to Dean. “I think Uncle Sam will be happy to hear about that.”
Dean grunts, even as his lips twitch. “Uncle Sam let the little monsters finish the ice cream last night. Mae burped half of it up on my-“ He pauses, glancing at Charlie next to him. “Freakin’ shirt.”
“I’ll wash it tonight.” You hum, kissing Ella’s cheek before setting her down, and walking over to the couch. Dean slings his free arm over your shoulders, as you settle into the cushions next to him. You hold out your arms, and he passes Mavis over carefully. Her little hands grab at his fingers, and she makes a small sound of displeasure from being ripped out of Dean’s arms. You understand that. You’ve done the same.
She settles, once she realizes that she’s not just being passed off to some stranger. Her arms wrap around your neck, but they’re not that long and just end up grabbing weakly at your shoulders. You shift her to be more comfortable, and lean your head on Dean’s shoulder.
He kisses the top of your head, and you sigh contentedly. Watch Ella return to her toys, letting the peace settle over you.
“I can wash my own shirt, baby.” Dean mutters in your ear, low enough that Charlie won’t realize he’s not paying attention.
“It’s okay, you got them up-“
“One day. You do all the others.”
“Because you have to go to work-“
“You work too, baby.” He sighs, pressing his face into your neck. “Lemme clean the damn shirt.”
“No. I want to.” You twist slightly, smiling down at him and keeping your voice hushed. “But I’ll wear it after. With nothing else.”
“C’mon…” Dean groans, like you’re physically hurting him. “Are you trying to kill me, baby?”
You giggle. “No”
“You can still do- That.” He squeezes your thigh. “If I wash the damn shirt-“
“You’ll make dinner.” You offer him. “And do bedtime.”
Dean pauses. “Gimme bath time, too.”
“Bath time isn’t hard, Dean-“
“Well, we’re going to the park later.” He shrugs. “I’m gonna need a hazmat.”
You laugh softly, and relent. “Okay. But I get to wash your shirt.”
“Deal.”
Dean grabs your face and softly turns it for a kiss. Ella, looking up at the exact wrong second, screams in disgust, and Charlie starts yelling at Dean about the cartoons again. Dean takes it in stride. Goes back to watching the TV, after telling Ella that kissing isn’t gross when you love someone, which gets a wrinkled face, and a lot of questions you don’t think Dean was ready for about love.
You swallow a laugh, as he pales.
“Uh- I’ll tell you at the park, sweetheart.”
Ella makes another face. “Why?”
“Cause. It’s a park discussion.”
Ella seems satisfied with that answer, and goes back to her toys. Dean settles back into the cushions with a grunt, his attention on the TV. At some point, you realize you’ve gravitated to half-lying across his body, Mavis still sleepily tucked in your arms. Dean’s warm. Smells like pine trees and leather and just Dean.
You fall asleep again. Dean, the asshole, lets you. When you come to, you’re lying on the couch with a blanket over your body, Mavis gone and the TV off. For a moment, you think you’re alone. Then you feel something shift near your chest, and you lift the blanket with a frown.
Charlie’s tucked herself against you, one of the more advanced books you got her a week or so ago, barely an inch from her face.
“Charlie, baby-“ You stifle a yawn, running your fingers through her hair. “What are you doing.”
“Hiding.” She mumbles, not looking away from the book. “Ella wants me to play mermaid with her while we wait for Daddy.”
“And- Where’s Daddy?”
“Changin’ Mae.”
You smile softly. She’s developing the slipping drawl that Dean has, that even Sam has when he’s tired or unfocused. “You can hide now, but I want you to play with your sister when we get to the park, okay?”
Charlie’s nose wrinkles. “I don’t like mermaids.”
“What do you like?”
Charlie pauses. Thinks about it. “Pirates. And- Cowboys.”
You sigh. If Charlie didn’t look more like you than Dean, you’d wonder if you just got her from a Dean-Clone machine. “Okay. Tell Ella you’re playing pirates and mermaids.”
“But I want to play cowboys and mermaids.”
“Then play cowboys and mermaids.”
“Hm. Fine.” Charlie pauses, and gives you a hopeful expression. “Can I read in the car, Mommy?”
“Yeah, baby.” You kiss the top of her head. “You can read in the car.”
You should probably go check on Ella, or help Dean with Mavis, but you don’t want to move. And when you ask where Ella is playing mermaid, it’s the living room. If you pause, you can hear Ella whispering to herself just outside the door. You’ll hear a scream just fine, and Dean did let you fall asleep. So this one is really on him.
He finds you some time later, holding Mavis in her tiny boots and too-big jacket, covering her hands and almost making her look like a burrito.
“We’re ready to set sail.” He tells you proudly.
You grunt, stretching as you sit up. “Dean, I’m still in my pajamas-“
“Oh no. Can’t let you be comfortable-“
“We’re going in public-“
“I know. Set out some stuff for you on the bed.” He holds out a hand. “C’mon, Charlie. Let’s go put on shoes.”
Charlie grumbles, but moves to her feet. Takes Dean’s hand, holding her book in the other.
“You takin’ that to the park, Char?”
“Mommy said I could.” She mumbles as they walk away, and Dean nods.
“Well. If Mommy said so.”
You laugh to yourself, and stand back up. He’s got to stop letting you sleep. You’re going to get used to it.
And Dean did set out clothing for you, because you don’t think he’s capable of not helping. But as much as you adore him, he’s still a man. And he paired the sweatpants, loose shirt, and sweater—the ones he knows you love, because he’s bought you sets in different colors—with your fucking birthday lingerie. The set that makes you look like a stripper and a porn star had a baby with the movie Showgirls. You snort, and almost toss it back in.
Then you pause.
The only thing better than Dean trying to fuck you like he knows you’ll cave—you always do, when it’s him—is Dean trying to stop himself from fucking you. And it’s a slow day. There are no plans, tonight.
You put on the lingerie, and head downstairs.
You don’t tell him, in the car. You help Ella into her car seat, and slide into the passenger’s seat. Smile at Dean, when he rests his hand on your knee. From the ease of his grin, you’re almost certain he put out the underwear without thinking about it.
He kisses your cheek, before he pulls out of the drive.
A horrible mistake, if his plan about the love questions was to hope Ella would just forget.
“Gross!” She screams, and Charlie rolls her eyes.
“Daddy says people kiss when they love each other, Ella. Duh.”
“No!” Ella shakes her head, pulling at the straps of the seat. “Daddy didn’t explain, he might be lying-“
“I’m not lying.” Dean grumbles, and you laugh, squeezing his hand on your leg as Ella protests.
“But you don’t kiss me, you don’t love me-“
“I love you, El. I told you, just love Mommy different.”
Charlie hums knowingly. “Daddy loves Mommy like adults love each other.”
Dean nods. “Exactly, good job, Char-“
“Like he loves Uncle Sammy, and-“
“No.” Dean almost swerves the car, and you choke on the air with a laugh. “No, uh- I love uncle Sammy like you love Ella and Mae, Charlie.”
Charlie makes a face. “I don’t love Ella.”
“Exactly.” Dean mutters, and you shove him.
“Dean-“
“Aw, c’mon. You know I love Sam-“
“They don’t get jokes, Dean.” You hiss, and he sighs, drumming his fingers on the wheel.
“Yeah. Alright. Uh…” He frowns at the road, glancing in the rearview mirror. “You guys know how when we go to the bakery, there are a bunch of different kinds of pies?”
Ella and Charlie nod slowly, and Mavis babbles like she understands what’s happening.
“Well, there are a lotta different kinds of love, too. And just like each pie got different flavors from the stuff they put inside, each love changes ‘cause of what it’s made of. But- Still pie. Still love. That makes sense?”
The girls nod slowly, and Dean puffs out his chest, clearly proud of his answer. You’re proud of his answer. You didn’t expect him to fail, but just like everything else he does, he somehow manages to be better than the stupid high standards he keeps setting for himself-
“What kind of pie do you love us like, Daddy?” Ella asks, kicking her feet, and Dean hums.
“You and your sisters? Pumpkin.”
Charlie frowns. “What about Uncle Sammy?”
“Apple. But I also love you and Mommy with apple pie.”
“So you love Uncle Sammy less?”
“Nah.” Dean pauses. “I love him kinda pumpkin, too. And- Pecan.”
Ella wrinkles her nose. “What’s pecan?”
“You know your friends at preschool?”
Ella nods, and Dean grins at her in the mirror.
“That’s pecan.”
“Okay.” Ella looks at you. “How do you love Mommy?”
“Yeah, Daddy.” You give him an amused look, crossing your arms. “How do you love Mommy?”
He smirks. “I love Mommy with apple, and pecan, and cherry, and-“ Something glints in his eyes, and his hand drifts higher on your thigh. “Cream.”
You gape at him, and he laughs. Ella starts kicking her feet again, asking what cherry and cream love is, and if you weren’t seconds from either jumping his bones or shoving him, you’d be impressed by how Dean handles the grave he dug himself. Cherry is a big love that you get for special people. Cream is a love you only get when you’re an adult. Together, that’s how the kissing happens, which is why he only kisses you.
Very smooth. Ella’s satisfied.
You’ve never been more certain Dean deserves the torment you’re about to put him through.
When you get to the park, Dean’s barely unbuckled her before Ella’s barreling out of the car, dragging Charlie behind her as they head for the playground. Dean swears under his breath, jogging to try and keep up with them, and you trail behind with Mavis in your arms. Ella and Charlie run up the massive playset, and Dean drops on the bench with a grunt. You sit down next to him, and he starts taking off his jacket before you can even speak.
“Dean, you’ll get cold-“
“I run hot. You need it for Mae.”
“Mae is fine-“
“For now. Wind is picking up, baby.” He wraps the coat around you, and you let him with a small smile. “I’ve had the same cold for three months anyway. Gotta stop letting Ella drink some of my orange juice.”
You laugh, leaning into his side. “You know, she gets her own orange juice.”
“She finishes it fast. And I got extra.” He glances down at you. “Warm?”
“Yeah. Some would call it stifling.”
“Don’t know what that word means, sweetheart-“
You roll your eyes. “Yes, you do.”
Dean sighs, leaning down to whisper in Mavis’ ear. “Your mother has too much faith in me-“
“No, I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do.” He kisses Mavis’ head, and she coos softly. “See? She likes the jacket?”
“She likes the attention.” You say dryly, and Dean chuckles.
“That makes two of you- Ow-“
You mock bite Dean’s finger, as he teasingly pokes your face. He pouts at you like a wounded animal, even as his eyes sparkle.
“No touching?” He asks, and you shake your head.
“No teasing.”
“C’mon, Mae doesn’t understand what I’m saying-“
“I don’t want to ruin your dress-up party.”
Dean blinks at you in confusion. “Huh?”
“You picked out my jacket.” You shrug, letting your smile widen. “And sweater, and pants.”
“Yeah, but- You love those pants-“
“And the underwear.” You lean a little closer, until your noses are almost bumping. “That’s going to get spoiled, if you keep teasing.”
Dean stares at you for a moment, and you can see the exact moment it hits him. His eyes widen, dilating fast, and he gulps.
“I- Uh- I was in a rush-“
“I know.” You kiss the corner of his mouth, dropping your voice to a whisper. “I still put them on. And I’ve been sleeping all day, Winchester. Lot of energy.”
Dean’s voice is barely a rasp. “Yeah.”
“Mm hm.”
He swallows, hand curling on your thigh. “Can I put the kids to bed now?”
You laugh softly, and shake your head. “Hold it, buddy.”
“But- If I hold it-“
“Early Christmas.” You nod loyally, and he grins.
“Awesome.”
And Dean holds it. Holds it pretty well. Aside from a few stares, he acts perfectly normal. When Ella and Charlie call him to go play, he kisses you and only mutters one lower, rough promise about being seconds from just pulling you into the public bathroom to see. It doesn’t matter that you’re still holding Mae, and you know he’d never actually do it. He just needs to say or do something, or he starts acting like he’s going to explode.
It’s like that for the rest of the day. In the car, out of the kid’s sight, his hand drags up your thigh. Rests just on the line of acceptable, fingers shifting slowly and teasingly, because he’s an asshole. While you make hot chocolate, he leaves the girls in the bath to get Ella’s favorite towel—the yellow one that’s technically for dishes, but also has ducks on it—and stops at Mavis’ highchair while she chews on your finger. Laughs, and says he likes eating Mommy’s too. When he helps Charlie with her “homework”—she’s barely in first grade, it’s just writing down numbers—he declares very loudly that his favorite numbers are six and nine.
“Why?” Charlie frowns at him, and he coughs.
“Uh- They got good curves. Fun to draw.”
“Oh.” Charlie nods. “Yeah.”
She goes back to trying to figure out an eight. You flip him off over her head.
“One day they’re going to get the jokes, you know.” You tell him in the kitchen, keeping an eye on Mavis in her playpen. Ella keeps poking her head over, and whispering something that makes Mavis giggle and wave her arms.
“Then I’ll get more subtle.” Dean shrugs. “Pass me the salt, baby.”
You hand him the shaker with a sigh. “Dean, my handsome dummy-“
“Aw. You think I’m handsome?”
“Dean-“
“You have a crush on me-“
“Shut up and cut the cucumber.”
He laughs, starting to chop the vegetable. “You always pay more attention to my cucumber than me-“
“Keep it up and your cucumber isn’t getting any attention at all.”
“Oh, princess.” Dean winks at you, and your thighs press together. “You gotta build up a rep, before you make that kinda threat.”
You glare at him. “I have a rep-“
“Yeah, my cucumber can still feel it from last night.”
He laughs, as you grab the wooden spoon and whack his arm. His pace doesn’t falter on the cucumbers, and when he looks at you again, it takes everything in you to keep upright under the almost feral gleam in his eyes.
“Y’know, I’m keeping a list.” He drawls, looking back to the cucumbers. “You tease me, I tease you. Make me eat veggies this morning-“
“I did not make you eat veggies-“
“Had to, if I wanted Charlie and Ella to. I had to pretend they didn’t taste like ass. So, if we’re going by my list-“ He shoots you a grin that’s far too charming, for the promise behind it. “I get to eat something better, later. You wear what you know is gonna drive me crazy-“
“You put it out-“
“I get to choose how I get it off of you.” He smirks, voice getting firmer as it drops. “You bite me, I bite back. You want attention, I give it to you ‘till your needy pussy is soaking my damn face. You hit me with that spoon,” he leans down, eyes trapping yours, and your breath catches. “Well. You know what I like doin’ to you when you get bratty.”
You swallow, and realize you’re clinging to his bicep. “Dean…”
“Yeah, baby?” He raises his brows, and you take an uneven breath.
“Is there- Do you know-“
“Course I know. What’d you think I was thinking about, on the drive home?”
“Um...” You blink at him slowly. “Dinner?”
“Nah. Thinking about you.” He kisses your nose, almost mockingly sweet. “Always thinking about you, baby.”
“But…” You pause, and he just grins at you. He’s going to make you say it. “What you were thinking about… Is there- The thing?”
“Yeah. I got the thing.” He smirks. “You wanna hear it?”
You nod, and he opens his mouth, but you grab his arm.
“Later,” you whisper, as he gives you a surprised look. “In- Bed?”
He stares at you for a second, then grins. “You wanna do-“
“Yes. Yeah. I- Yes.” You let out an unsteady breath. “Please?”
Dean nods, kissing you softly. Slowly. You melt into him, and he stops cutting to reach up and cup your face.
“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” He mutters against your lips. “I’ll put everyone down after dinner. You just go wait for me, take a bath or somethin’-“
“No bath.” You mumble. “Wearing the underwear.”
He groans, pressing his brow against yours. “Son of a bitch, now I gotta get through dinner with a semi- Shit-“
You trace your fingers over the bulge in his jeans, laughing softly. “That’s a little more than a semi, De.”
“I’m lyin’ to myself.” He grunts. “Makes it easier, long as you don’t keep- Fuck-“
He moans into your mouth, as you squeeze him. His hand flies to your hip to keep himself grounded, and you giggle again.
“Not funny, sweetheart-“
“Very funny.” You rub him through his pants, squeezing where you know the base of his cock is once, then twice. He almost whines, and you kiss over the stubble on his cheek. “I love you.”
You let go of him, and he groans, dropping his face onto your shoulder.
“I’m not playing nice later, baby. You gotta know that.”
You smile, mostly to yourself. “Counting on it.”
Before he can say anything else, you kiss his hair and walk away. Mavis needs a diaper change. Charlie and Ella need to wash their hands, before dinner.
It’s also just fun to watch Dean roll his shoulders, back muscles flexing under his flannel as he chops vegetables like he’s trying to physically fight off the boner you know is still in his pants.
He gets it under control, by dinner. And how he’s acting perfectly normal. Like it’s just any other night.
That’s more dangerous than the teasing. You might not be able to walk in the morning.
The rest of the evening passes like a calm before the storm. The girls finish their dinner, and Mavis only throws some of her peas in Dean’s face as he tries to feed her. They have their cookies—they always get one, for eating whatever they’re served—and run off to play before bed. You manage to swerve around Dean, to put Mavis to bed yourself. He catches you as you walk out of the nursery with a stern expression, and you give him a nervous smile.
He chuckles, grabbing the back of your head and tipping it forward so he can kiss your brow.
“You’re in a lotta trouble, sweetheart.” He mutters. “I was supposed to do that.”
“Oops.” You whisper, and you both know you don’t mean it. “I’m gonna go wash your shirt.”
He hums, and only squeezes your hip before letting you walk away. You take the shirt to the mudroom, and let him deal with winding Charlie and Ella down. By the time you have it hang drying over the large sink, you leave to find the living room clean and empty.
You poke your head in the girls’ room, and find Dean reading to them. You’ve insisted he try reading higher level books—that’s the point of him reading with them—and he does, but he still does voices like it’s a baby book.
Ella is already asleep. Charlie had wrapped herself in her shrimp blanket, and is stopping Dean every three words, to ask what that means.
You slip inside silently, just to kiss them goodnight.
Ella mumbles something incoherent, leaning further against Dean as her little eyes flutter. Charlie grabs your hand, and pulls you down to sit on her other side.
“Mommy, listen to the story.”
Dean frowns. “Charlie, Mommy has to go to bed-“
“She’s been sleeping all day, Daddy.” Charlie rolls her eyes, and Dean can’t argue with that.
“One chapter.” You murmur, kissing her head. “Then I have to go brush my teeth, Char.”
“Okay.” She leans back against Dean’s arm, and he sighs.
Goes back to reading, and you know he’s doing it faster than before. Charlie even tells him to slow down, which he does, with a dramatic sigh. You leave after the promised chapter, and Dean squeezes the back of your thigh before you walk away. You glare at him. He just grins, winks, and goes back to the book.
You don’t like waiting for him. You never know what to do with yourself. The baby monitor is humming on Dean’s bedside table, and you lie awkwardly on the mattress. Wearing just the underwear. Covered in a thin blanket, because just being bare had felt strange and uncomfortable. You stare at the ceiling, still able to feel Dean’s hand on your thigh. Near your ass and panty line. And maybe, if you were alone, he would’ve pulled you into his lap before he walked away. Or just cup your pussy in the car while he drove, smirking as you ground onto his hand and pleaded with him to touch you more.
Your fingers slip between your legs. You rub yourself over your panties, and sigh as you feel the slick already gathering. Your eyes flutter closed, and you try to just think about it. Dean’s thick fingers instead of your own, dragging up and down your pussy, teasing you as sweat begins to gather on your brow-
“Hell yeah.” Dean mutters, and your eyes shoot open, legs slamming around your hand. He’s standing near the door—locked safely behind him—and pulling off his flannel. Fumbling with his belt as his eyes rank your body, the evidence of what the sight is doing to him hard between his legs.
“I- I didn’t hear you come in-“
“I can sneak.” He grunts, palming himself as his jeans fall to the ground. “Legs open.”
You swallow, slowly dragging your thighs apart. Revealing your barely clothed, dripping pussy to his hungry eyes.
Dean groans, jerking himself off through the fabric of his boxers. “Is she wet for me, baby?”
“Yeah.” You whisper. “So fucking wet, it’s- God-“
Your hand presses down, as he pulls his shirt over his head. He’s a little softer, with age and a slower life. He’s still the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.
“There you go,” Dean walks slowly towards the bed, grabbing your ankle as he sits on the mattress. “Touch yourself for me, princess, touch that pretty pussy-“
You moan, your fingers starting to rub back up and down. Dean groans, crawling between your legs and pushing your thighs further open. He just watches you for a moment, drinking in how you play with yourself. He’s so hard you’re worried he’s going to rip his briefs.
“De- Dean-“ You nudge your knee against his hip. “Off-“
“Right- Shit-“ He scrambles, ripping off his underwear. His cock bounces against his abdomen, as he settles back down. His hand rests on your hip, thumb rubbing small circles. His body between your legs won’t let them close, even if you try.
And you know what this is. It’s all you get.
That, and his low, deep voice. Rough with hunger, and wrecked with desire. You could find his voice in a crowd of a million people. Listen to it for the rest of your life.
Cum just from hearing it, if he uses it right.
And fuck, he knows how to use it right. And he knows what it does to you.
The most dangerous combination in the world.
“Don’t stop touchin’ yourself.” He grunts, his free hand slowly stroking himself as he holds your gaze. “Less you don’t wanna cum.” He smirks. “You wanna cum, sweet girl?”
You moan, and nod frantically. Dean chuckles.
“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. Ready?”
You start to rub yourself faster, pressing the lacy fabric further into your pussy for a little friction. “God, yes, go-“
“Patience, baby.” He mutters, rubbing your hip as he speaks. “I got a lot I’d wanna do to you, y’know. Shame there’s never been enough time in the night for it. If I could, I’d keep you in bed for the whole year, just looking pretty in my sheets and getting stuffed full of my cock.”
You moan, pressing your finger into your pussy through the cloth. Dean laughs.
“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know you got that fantasy.” He leans down, breath ghosting over your ear. “I’d let you have it, if I didn’t like you bossing me around so much. Wouldn’t know what to do with myself, if I didn’t have you there. Shame.” He clicks his tongue. “But I still got things for tonight. Fuck yourself on your fingers, baby.”
You obey, stuffing another finger into your dripping cunt and rolling your hip to try and meet your thrusts. Dean chuckles, kissing the side of your head.
“Good girl. You look so fuckin’ hot, baby, you got no idea.” He moans openly into your ear, and you shiver. “I think I’ll start by stuffing up your pretty mouth with my cock. Fucking it until you’re drooling all over me, choking on it but still begging for more. It’s never enough for my dirty princess, is it. No, you want to be on your knees and crying so pretty for me.” He kisses just under your ear, sending a shiver through your whole body.
“Oh- Oh my god-“ You mutter, shoving the underwear aside to move your fingers faster. “Dean-“
“I know.” He coos, kissing your temple. “And I’d cum down your throat, baby, I know how much you love to swallow what I give you. Then I’d start sucking on those perfect tits, while I touched your wet little pussy.”
Your mouth falls open, your free hand finding your clit. Rubbing it frantically, eyes fluttering at you stare at Dean above you. He just grins, voice dropping somehow deeper.
“Would only take me one hand to make you cum,” he hums, glancing down to where you’re humping your fingers like an animal. “Fingers in you, thumb rubbing- Lot faster than that-“ He chuckles, and you whine. “I’d keep you on edge, dripping down my wrist until you’re begging for it. And I’ll need that free hand, keep you still. I know how you get-“
You almost throw your hips off the bed, trying to chase release, and Dean laughs.
“Yeah, that.” He kisses your cheek, and you turn your face to try and capture his lips in a kiss.
He rises up too fast, and you whine. “Dean-“
“I told you to be patient.” He pinches your hip, and you fall back into the pillows with a whimper. “I haven’t even told you how I’d make you cum on my hand, then keep you down so I could taste you. Let you rub yourself all over my face, tongue fuck you till I can’t breathe- Son of a bitch, baby, I get fuckin’ drunk on your pussy, just thinkin’ about the sounds you make when I got my face between those legs, got you cumming in my damn mouth- Shit-“
He’s working himself up. You can hear his cock slapping against his hand as he fists it. The tip keeps bumping near your thigh, even as he holds his hips over your body.
“Dean- Dean-“ You reach up to cup his face, and he groans, leaning into the touch. “Don’t stop talking, please-“
“I know, just- Fuck-“ He presses his cheek against yours, and your hand flies back to your clit. “I’d be ready to go, baby girl. Once you drench my fuckin’ face, I’d be so hard it hurt, would feel like I’m ‘bout to lose it if I don’t- Shit- Get back inside of you-“
He’s rutting into his hand. Your hand is moving so fast it’s about to cramp, and you’re close, so close-
“Could fuck you in my lap.” Dean grunts, words clipped and harsh. “Let you ride me, feel you squeezin’, watch your tits bounce- Fuck-“ He moans. “Get you under me like this, watch you get wrecked on my cock or- Flip you over and fuck you from behind, spank your tight ass until you feel me for a week, make you hold it until I cum inside of you and- Shit- Hold you on my fucking cock, look at how fucking wrecked you are trying to hold it-“
“Dean- Please-“
“Yeah, just like that.” He slams his lips over yours, and you moan into his mouth. The kiss is short and harsh, but it’s enough to make your body writhe with pleasure and need.
“More-“ You whimper into his mouth. “De, I- I’m so close-“
“I know you are, baby, I fuckin’ know-“ He groans. “Think about how I’d hold you down ‘till you’re crying for me, ’till you’re wrecked, then I’d fuck my cum back into you and tell you to cum- Cum for me baby, fuckin’ cum-“
Your mouth falls open to scream, and Dean drags you up into a kiss to muffle the sound. You shake, your fingers managing not to falter as overwhelming pleasure sweeps through you. Dean pumps his load over your hand and pussy, sending tiny shocks of heat through your body.
“There you go.” He mutters as you float back down, running his fingers between your pussy lips.
You shiver. “Dean- Sensitive-“
He hums, shooting you a wink. “Just how I like it.”
You stick your tongue out at him, and he catches it between his teeth. Kisses you sloppy and slow, humming into your mouth before pinching your clit. You squeak, and he laughs.
“Get some rest, baby.” He kisses your cheek. “I’ll clean up, keep an ear out-“
“Wait-“ You grab him, before he can push off your body. “Don’t let me sleep in tomorrow, we can’t do this three nights in a row-“
“Yeah, we can.”
“Dean-“
“I talked the talk, sweetheart.” He shrugs, kissing your knuckles. “Gotta walk the walk.”
He sets your hand down, and walks into the bathroom. You sigh, looking up to the ceiling. Your eyes are starting to feel heavy. If you go down first, Dean sets the alarms. Get to pull you under him, so he can keep you in bed in the morning again.
But he did make some promises.
And you’d very much like to see him fulfill those promises.
There are worse lives to have than being pampered by your husband, watching him care for your children, and then being fucked until you can’t walk. So you don’t fight it.
With Dean, you rarely really do.
✦End note: only man i'd jork it in front of i fear.✦
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✧･ﾟ:you're face down in the mattress, the wet, lustful sound of Dean’s hips snapping against your ass fill the room. He’s fucking you like an animal, holding your ass in the air with rough hands, massaging your hips and thighs as his balls slap against your clit. He bends over with a groan, kissing up your spine over your shoulders, rolling his hips with every brutal, bed creaking thrust. You cry out, as he drills into that one gooey spot deep inside of you, and he groans, squeezing your waist tight.
✧･ﾟ:he pants in your ear, low moans rumbling from his chest and vibrating through your body. His fingers drift down to toy with your clit, and you clench around him with a weak, breathy whine. Dean grunts and hauls you up against him. One hand wraps around your throat, the other splayed over your stomach, pressing down and forcing you to take his cock even deeper. Your lashes flutter, your vision blurred and mouth hanging open. Dean kisses and bites over your neck, fucking you with shallow, rough thrusts. You’re caged, your back to his chest, nothing for you do but take it.
“Fuckin’ look at you, baby,” Dean grabs your jaw, angling it exactly where he wants. “Prettiest girl in the fuckin’ world. My girl.”
You moan, head lolling. Dean smirks and taps your cheek.
“Look.”
It takes all the praise and coaxing in the world, but you manage. It’s the most sinful thing you’ve ever seen. You, glowing and drooling in Dean’s arms, your eyes lidded and lips swollen from his countless kisses. There isn’t a part of your body he hasn’t marked, an inch of skin that he isn’t teasing or groping. His face is twisted in concentration, his muscles flexing and bulging around you, the shaft of his massive cock slipping in and out of your pussy like a machine.
“See how fuckin’ gorgeous you are?” Dean mutters in your ear. “Prettiest fuckin’ girl in the world, makin’ a mess on my cock.”
And you are. You really are. You can’t look away from the slick, creamy mess where your bodies meet. Dean squeezes your cheeks again, your eyes meet, and it crashes into you like a storm.
He looks at you like you’re a goddess. In his arms, you feel like one.
“Watch,” he hisses, dragging your gaze back to the mirror, right as he starts to rub your clit in furious tight circles.
You can’t help it. Your transfixed by the sight of you, more beautiful that you ever thought you could be, unraveling in Dean’s arms. He’s quick behind you, slamming home and stuffing you up with hot ropes of cum, fucking you through it with shallow thrusts.
Neither of you move for a while after. You don’t want to. You’re afraid the spell will break.
“Look at you, baby,” Dean murmurs, kissing over your neck. “Never seen anythin’ fucking better.”
And it’s so easy, to believe him. You know it won’t last. But you’re sure that, if you ask him, he’ll be happy to show you over and over again. Until it really, truly sticks.
✦Dean Masterlist - Main Masterlist - read on AO3!✦
