Yay. Can I Read Now?

Mo(21)she/they~THIS IS A REBLOG FOR AUTHORS AND ARTIST! NOT MY ORIGINAL WORK! Plz share love with original artist and authors they deserve the love!

[zepskies]

BREAK ME DOWN || Series Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

AN: For those of you who enjoyed “Checkerboard,” here’s the requested prequel series! It’s gonna be a long road to get to that version of Soldier Boy. Technically this is an AU set post-season 3.

Series Tags/Warnings: (18+ only.) Enemies to frenemies to lovers. Angsty, messy, moral quandaries galore. This is a romance, but it’s a dark world with morally gray and dark characters, including Soldier Boy, of course. **Smut, language, misogyny, violence, and other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read:

YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Music Playlist Posters

Chapters:

Prologue

Part 1 - The Game Begins

Part 2 - You Move Me, Baby

Part 3 - Somewhere Down Below

Part 4 - On the Inside Out

Part 5 - Morning, Night & Day

Part 6 - A Hot Meal

Part 7 - Until Midnight

Part 8 - Something in the Way

Part 9 - Breach

Part 10 - Caught in the Balance

Part 11 - The Lion's Den

Part 12 - All Your Wicked Ways

Part 13 - A Generous Deal

Part 14 - Safe House

Part 15 - The Tower

Part 16 - Soldier Boy

Part 17 - More Than Words Can Say

Epilogue - All My Living Time

Series Complete!

Not done reading this version of Soldier Boy x Reader? Well, there's more to their story.

One-Shots & Mini Series

All of these stories follow the main series above and are listed in chronological reading order (not the order I wrote them in, but how they should be read).

(❤️‍🔥 = 18+ only and/or smut)

In the Dark You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

Checkerboard ❤️‍🔥 You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

Wanderlust ❤️‍🔥 Your wandering hands are keeping Ben up at night.

A Simple Touch Annie still has reservations about Ben, and you dating him for that matter…until she sees it.

Love Actually ❤️‍🔥 - [MINI SERIES] Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system. At least, you hope you can, before he meets the rest of your dysfunctional family on Christmas Day.

Series Complete!

Wake Me Up ❤️‍🔥 - [MINI SERIES] A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, he is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

Series Complete!

Strong As Blood ❤️‍🔥 After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out? 

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

Part 1 || Part 2 - Complete

Sleigh Ride Yet again, you convince Ben to indulge you in a new Christmas tradition.

Until Morning A quiet moment between you, Ben, and your newborn daughter.

This One's For You Late one night, finding no other recourse, Ben sings to his infant daughter to help her sleep.

Lesson Learned ❤️‍🔥 There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you. (Sequel to This One's For You)

Green ❤️‍🔥 Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

Calculated Risks You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

I've Got You ❤️‍🔥 Being pregnant with a supe’s baby isn’t easy, even the second time around. The good news is your husband is all too willing to help you relieve a certain craving.

Imagines:

Getting jealous. ❤️‍🔥💚 Ben needs new clothes, but the shop girls think your boyfriend is fair game.

Ben’s reaction to his girlfriend on her period.❣️ How he takes care of you.

Ben loses you. 💔 Includes a “twist” ending…

Talk to Me 💞 In the wake of his vivid nightmare, you confront Ben about his fears and get him to open up. [Sequel to “Ben loses you.”]

Headcanons:

Inspiration behind the Part 17 plot twist. It has to do with my love of Smallville. (Spoilers for BMD Part 17.)

How many kids would you and Ben have? The answer is...

Ben's reaction to his daughter Lila's first crush (vs. his son's). The double standard here is ridiculous!

How Ben would react when Lila gets a boyfriend (or girlfriend). Dad!Ben is pretty much what you'd expect...

How Ben reacts when his daughter (Lila) is dating an asshole. He sees an unfortunately "kindred" spirit.

What if Lila caught Ben on a bad day? Featuring reactions from young!Lila and teen!Lila.

What (BMD) Soldier Boy/Ben Would Say to His Younger Self Ben has the opportunity to meet his counterpart from the 1980s. What advice would he offer?

Imagine Soldier Boy (Ben) "Sliding Up" to You in the Club Despite what you might think, he's got moves...

Moodboard below created by @chernayawidow:

"But you move me, baby. All my livin time..."

"A fight for love and glory, a case of do or die..."

Did you like this series? If you'd like to keep supporting me as I continue the BMD-verse, you can:

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[ifyouwerethemoon]

This series is amazing and any soldier boy lover should read it all immediatelyyyyy 🥹

[zepskies]

Aww I appreciate that so much! Thank you!!! 🥰💕

[hauntedpoetrybluebird]

Something I get to read all over again!!

[zepskies]

Aw I love a reread! Thanks! 😊

[luvergirl777]

Cleanin' Baby | Dean Winchester

Pairing | Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count | 12.5 k

Genre | Enemies to Lovers, Smut

Summary | Dean can't stand new people, especially people intruding on his life and telling him what to do. You drive him insane, Sam having to separate the two of you before fists and teeth start flying. You finally get under his skin for the last time with your dumb stunts, pushing him over the edge.

Index | Dean and reader fight constantly, Sam is the babysitter, Dean hates you because you are him, you're also incredibly hot, not that he'd admit it, perhaps maybe just a bit he admits it. Unprotected sex, wrap it up folks. Soft dom Dean, a bit of sub Dean. He's whipped and will listen to a pretty girl. Two idiots in love.

Dean is never fond of new people, it takes him a very long time to warm up to newcomers. When the two brothers find you battered and bruised, barely still alive after fending a demon off on your own, he’s a bit impressed. Upon further investigation, Sam watching over you, Dean realizes you had managed to damn it back to hell all on your own. Even more impressed, Dean is confused as to how you managed to survive. “You said it was aggressive?” Dean double checks, wondering if you somehow got lucky and encountered the impossible, un-aggressive demon. Sure, that would explain how you managed to survive on your own. 

“Are you fuckin’ stupid? You think I beat myself up after killing the damn thing?” 

“Well you didn’t technically kill it but-” 

“Oh shut up, pretty boy.” You grit, rolling your eyes as you hold onto Sam’s arm to stand up. Sam, ever so caring, nearly lifts your weight with no effort. He’s supporting all of your weight easily as you try and hobble along to safety. 

“Easy now sassy, you’re about one hit away from dying.”

“You gonna hit me?” The face you give him is unreadable, and Sam is preparing himself to jump in between the two of you if needed. You’ve stopped walking, completely turned around as you face Dean behind you. Dean, never one to back down, takes a step closer to you. 

“Guys, c’mon.” Sam intervenes, pushing his brother by the chest to create some distance between the two of you arguing. “You two sound like a couple of 5 year olds.”

Both you and Dean roll your eyes, and you’re hobbling your way out the door to get to some sort of hospital to get a check up. The pain is actually ridiculous, and if you weren’t so battered, you probably would've fought with Dean more. “Here, let us give you a ride,” Sam offers, quickly chasing you in fear you would topple after leaving his side. 

“She is NOT bleeding all over baby,” Dean protests as Sam walks you out of the door, taking you to the car. Dean closes the door behind him after glancing inside once more, still in disbelief of what the hell is happening. They burst open your door expecting to damn something to hell, and instead found you bleeding out in the middle of the floor. And now you and Dean are arguing as you hobble your way to the back of Baby. 

“You call this car baby?” You roll your eyes, “You gotta take care of her better if you’re gonna call her a fucking pet name. This thing has 2 years of fuckin’ dirt on it. Baby my ass.” Dean almost stops in place, arms raising slightly in defense, jaw dropped as he looks at Sam. Usually you're more pleasant, however, you're battered and bruised and in pain.

After absolutely giving it to Dean, you’re opening the back door and limply climbing in. You’re collapsing against the seat before Dean can jab at you. Dean wants to dish it out once again, and Sam slaps a hand over his mouth. He can’t deal with the two of you, he really can’t. Closing the door behind you, Sam’s turning around to talk sense into his stubborn older brother. “She damned a demon on her own, she could help us.” 

“Her, help us?” Dean scoffs, “Yeah, I’d rather be kicked in the balls.” 

“I’m about to if you don’t shut the hell up,” Sam shoves him around the car, “It could be good, finding someone to put you in your place every now and then.” 

That's how you met, and it’s been years already. Despite being together almost 24/7, you and Dean are still constantly at each other’s throats. If you’re not lashing out at Dean, he’s dishing some snarky shit out to you. Sam stays as uninvolved as he can, always letting you two at it before it’s clear intervention is needed. 

--- 

“You really don’t have to sit there and watch me like some hawk,” Dean’s annoyed as you perch yourself on a stool, watching as he works on Baby. It’s about a million degrees and Dean has refused to drink anything but alcohol and coffee for the past 24 hours, and not to mention it’s the middle of the day with the sun beating down overhead. “I don’t need a babysitter. “

“Sammy’s worried about you, said you’re going to have a heat stroke or pass out. Figure I’d come out here and pester you into coming back inside.” You shrug, completely unbothered as you don’t move from the stool. Your tone is nonchalant, only getting on his nerves more. Baby is technically sound and purring like a kitten on the road, Dean’s just been itching to tinker and a distraction from you waltzing around the bunker. “God know’s Sammy’s not gonna do it-” 

“Stop calling him that?” 

“Calling who what?” 

“Sammy.” Dean mumbles, already turning around from you to focus back on the engine. You’re already getting on his nerves, and if he looks at you any longer you’ll succeed in pestering him back into the house. “Go back inside and tell my nerdy little brother I’m fine out here. By myself.” 

“Sam’s not gonna take that for an answer.” You’re still calm and collected, leaning forward on the stool as you get a closer look at what Dean’s doing. You watch his hands work, nimble and quick as he easily gets into every corner he wants. There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips at your thoughts, and you’re trying awfully hard not to laugh loudly. Dean can almost hear the joke writing itself in your head, and feel the smile growing on your face. “You know you’re really good with your fingers-” 

“Okay! You win!” And he’s storming back into the bunker to get water from an expectant Sam in the kitchen, already in a glass with ice. “Don’t.” He speaks to him, raising a finger to Sam. He can already hear the thoughts in his head, too. 

---

“Oh really, that’s your smart ass plan?” You mumble, listening to Dean attempt to explain the plan of waltzing into a bank and trying to sweet talk a bank teller to the vault. It would never in a million years happen, regardless of how annoying charming Dean could be. No one is that stupid, not even a bank secretary who doesn’t know who Dean is. 

“Well, if you have anything better, please enlighten me.” He’s slamming the folder down on the table in front of you, crossing his arms. 

“Anything is likely better-” When you stand up from your seat, and Dean steps toward you, Sam is quick to intervene before you two start dishing it out. 

“OKAY!” Sam basically yells to get your guy’s attention. You two calm down, you sitting down, Dean stepping away from you, and Sam finally taking a breath. 

---

Or the one time you drove Baby, absolutely full throttling her around turns as if you were a professional driver. In your defense, you didn’t crash and actually handled it quite well. Poor Sam is laying down in the back of the car, injured and praying you get to the hospital soon. But Dean was about to have a heart attack in the passenger seat of his car. He’s pressed against the door with the force you’re jerking the car around, gripping anything he can reach. 

“Never again, never again.” Dean almost prays underneath his breath, but he’s not and never will be a religious man.

---

Or the one time you were the bait for some creepy old man, needing to steal a weapon he had on display in his house. You were in the middle of his bed, about to fake vomit as he ran his hands along your waist. “Listen, I heard something you had. Something very impressive, an ancient weapon of sorts.” You purr, rolling your eyes as he goes along with it. 

“Of course I do, it’s in my office. I can show you after we’re done here.” He mumbles, and you’re swinging and clocking him against his temple, toppling him over. He lands with a thud on the hardwood floor, knocked out cold. At the commotion, Dean is bursting through the door. 

“HEY!” Dean screams, puffed up and ready for action. 

“He’s knocked out, dick for brains.” You mumble, climbing off of the bed and adjusting your dress which had ridden almost all the way up to your waist. He swears he catches a peek of the pink panties you’re wearing, but for his benefit, he’s trying to convince himself he saw nothing at all. News flash, not and never was going to work. Dean watches with wide eyes, his gaze following and trailing along your bare skin down to your thighs as you cover yourself back up. “Thanks for caring, pretty boy.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, walking over to the man that is unconscious against the hardwood floor. He’s mumbling something underneath his breath, landing one more blow onto the old bastard, before finally catching back up with you in the office. 

—-

You and Dean are on a hunt the first time he lays hands on you. You both had been separated, running and hiding in respective locations of the mouldy, broken down house. Dean’s frantic and stressed after hearing you yelp on the other side of the house, rushing over to find you and seeing no one. He's running around the house at this point, stopping for two seconds in the middle of the hallway to try and find his thoughts. 

A hand grabs his shoulder, grip hard enough to leave bruises underneath his jacket. He's whipping around before he can even think another thought, hand balled up into a tight fist as he spins. It’s too late to pull his punch when he realizes, eyes wide as he makes contact with your confused expression. He can pull it about 90%, softening the impending blow to your cheek bone. He's yelping for you when his fist makes contact with your skin, already groaning at himself. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Sorry! You scared me.” Dean’s explaining immediately, arms catching you before you even have the chance to stumble backwards from the blow. He cradles you before you can air out your grievances, one hand coming to hold your cheek in betrayal. “I thought they had you, god I thought they had you.” He mumbles as he holds you, reassuring both you and himself that you’re okay, or trying to at least. 

“Dean, god.” You groan, peering up to look at him. “Let's finish this job, please, without any more collateral damage.” You mumble, shuffling around to find your knife. “Fuckers took my blade.” 

“It's okay, I'll get them.” Dean mumbles, quickly pressing his lips to your hairline before letting you go. You stay behind Dean, this time a considerable distance, as he finishes the job and gets the both of you out of there safely. Dean has reason now, speeding out of there like hell after killing anything in his path. 

Getting back to the bunker, Dean parks the car and doesn’t move an inch. You already know why, and you already know the speech he’s about to dish out. “Listen-“ 

“It’s not your fault.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head. You already have a bruise forming on your cheek despite Dean doing his best to pull his punch. The guilt eats him every time you look at each other and he has to divert his eyes. 

“Alrighty,” Dean presses his lips together as he thinks of another solution. “Give me one,” Dean nods, waving his hands to get you to come closer. You scoff at him, shaking your head as you fight off the laugh that bubbles. You’ve seen him and Sam go at each other like this, getting even in a way only brothers can. He taps his cheek, looking to the side. “Give me two, actually. One to make it even, one for putting my hands on a woman.” He waves you closer, dead serious. 

“Dean-“ 

“Lay 'em on me, one at a time, back to back, hard as you want, doesn’t matter, come on.” He’s still looking away from you, refusing to take no for an answer and he waits for the blows to land. He didn’t mean to, you know it, and you know he’s going to feel bad for a while. You scoff and shuffle, Dean tenses as he waits for the blow. You kiss his cheek, grabbing his face and turning it, before kissing his other cheek. 

“There, two blows, back to back.” You smile, “Now let’s go inside so I can get ice for my cheek.” 

Dean’s blushing like an idiot before scurrying after you, “I'll get the ice, you go lay down!” 

---

You had been sick for well over a week while the boys were on a job, sitting by yourself in a house and working as the information specialist for the time being. When they would call, you’d give them all the information you had been collecting within the past couple of hours. Always hours, never days, because you’d get too worried about them. Dean, not admitting it, also calls every couple of hours to make sure you’re still kicking. You sound like hell, and it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that you are not taking care of yourself while they’re away. 

Sam’s out on a home visit, and Dean is fidgeting with his phone in his hands. Pressing buttons, deleting the numbers, and the cycle repeats itself. Finally putting his big girl panties on, he dials your contact and calls. “Dean? Is everything okay?” Your voice is worried, the call slightly random from the semi-schedule you guys have grown accustomed to. 

“Hey, hey, yeah we’re good. Sam’s just out making some runs, you know.” He sounds awkward and like a loser, he already knows it. He can pretty much hear Sam’s voice mocking him. “Just wanted to call, see how you’re holding up. Taking that medicine I got? Eating everyday?” He’s interrogating you, for your well being of course. 

“The medicine you got me is like ketamine…or something.” You laugh. 

“What?! It is not-” 

“It so is! Some random pills you got from who knows where, from who knows, and you’re telling me to take them?” You’re scolding him softly, but he can still hear the humour in your voice. 

“Whatever, when we get back I’m gonna smother you back to good health.” You roll your eyes at this, Dean knows that without even being in the room with you. “Pills and all.” 

“Dean, whatever. Just don’t die and get back here soon.” You laugh softly on the other side of the phone. Dean can hear the tone of your voice, almost pleading with him. In your defense, the two of them had been gone for over a week on the job including travel time to get there. 

--- 

Dean will never admit it but after that he gets softer around you, starts looking out for you more than he lets on. He’s a softie, even if he won’t show it. The first time Dean almost dies since you’ve joined the team, it’s the first close call the three of you have had to someone actually dying. Sure, the three of you have been hurt and wounded, but nothing quite like when Dean’s guts were outside of his body for far too long to actually be okay. 

He’s been in surgery for hours at this point, Sam had left a while ago to try and put some distance in between him and his brother possibly dying in front of him. You’re left in the cold waiting room by yourself, elbows on your knees as you wait. Your face has been rubbed more times than you can count, one more and your face will come off. You curse Sam for leaving you alone, but part of you does understand as well. 

You rocket out of your seat at the beginning of “D-” whipping around to face the nurse before she can even finish his name. You’re frantic, sure, but you can’t help it. “Dean? Is it for Dean?” Your voice comes out more of a mumble, the poor nurse nodding her head softly. She leads a shaky you to his room, heart in your feet. The nurse stops at the front, stepping to the side to allow you to walk in on your own. It takes all willpower in your body to not immediately crumble to the floor at the sight. Dean’s eyes are open, squinted almost completely shut, as his head rolls over to the side to look at you. 

His eyes widen the slightest bit at the sight of you and not Sam and the tears immediately begin flowing down your face. You try hard not to audibly sob, but it’s taking a lot of effort. “H-hey, Dean.” You sound pathetic as you shuffle over to the side of his bed, almost scared that your presence alone will send him back into a near death state. As soon as you make it to the side of the bed, his arm reaches over and brushes against your leg. “You fucking dick!” You’re hysterical as he makes contact. “You can’t scare me like that! Ever! Don’t ever do that again!” Absolutely ridiculous as you crumble down onto the bed, your arms wrapping around his head. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re okay.” He’s quick to comfort you, arms weakly wrapping around your waist. He grunts with the effort it takes in his current state. You’re almost climbing into the bed with him at this point, not wanting to let go of him. He’s trying not to cry with your state of general mess, seeing you so upset is getting him emotional. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, Dean. God, I was so scared. Sorry. Sam is just out to get some air. You know how he deals with this, I’m sure they’ve called him.” You’re prying your arms away from his form, sitting down on the bed next to him. Maybe it’s the hysterics, but you’re running your fingers through his hair and gently holding his face in the other hand. Leaning forward, you place the shakiest kiss on his forehead. “You’re never allowed to go by yourself ever again.” Sam walks in on the two of you like this, you obsessively petting his head while holding his face in the other palm. Your entire face is wet at this point, tears soaking your features. 

Sam lets you sit for a moment longer, the wet patch on your shirt indication that this is needed. Eventually, he has to butt in otherwise Dean will think his brother hates him. When he finally clears his throat, you almost scatter away from Dean.  

---

Eventually, you become a part of the little family they have. It takes a long time for Dean to come around, and Sam takes less time. When Sam lets you call him Sammy for the first time without correcting you as he does everyone else, Dean knows you're in for the long haul. Technically it’s the first and only time you’ve called him Sammy in front of him, the circumstances and situation making you talk before thinking. 

Sam and Dean had been fighting the entire job, at each other’s throats for something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Usually it’s banter and general sibling bickering, but this time it’s different. The tipping point comes when Dean mumbles something under his breath in the hotel room after a long day, Sam immediately reacting as he jolts up. Before you can even comprehend what the argument is about, fists are flying and the two are grappling each other. You’re watching with wide eyes, never quite seeing the two get this distant from each other. Sam is Dean’s baby brother, he’d do anything for him. 

“Guys, what, stop!” You mumble, trying to intervene as Sam has gotten Dean pinned by the throat underneath him. You know they wouldn’t do any permanent damage to each other, but you still feel your stomach flip at the position. “Guys, please!” Your eyes are watery and you’re trying with all of your force to pull Sam off of him. Sam, easily outweighing you, doesn’t budge an inch and is just more annoyed at you pulling him. 

“If you want to leave, leave. We don’t need you.” Dean spits, pushing at Sam’s arm that remains at his neck. Sam clenches his jaw, clicking his tongue. 

“I won’t come back this time.” Sam spits, deadly serious. You’ve never heard Sam this serious in the entire time you’ve known him, not on a hunt, not on an investigation, nothing. Dean’s about to say something before you’re slapping a hand over his mouth. You’re crying at this point, pathetically holding Sam’s arm as you rest your face against his shoulder. You can’t move him. 

“Sammy, please.” You cry, a horrid sob leaving your throat as you plead with him. Even Dean looks sideways at you, shocking him as well. At the plea, Sam steps back, releasing the pressure he’s holding Dean to. “Sammy, stop. You can’t leave us, we need you, please.” You cry softly, letting go of Dean’s face to hold Sam’s arm instead. 

“I- I’m sorry.” Sam mumbles softly, shrugging you off his arm in favour of pulling you into his embrace. “It’s okay, we’re okay. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam mumbles, trying to console you. You nod into his chest, reaching over to hold Dean’s face rather than slapping your hand over it. Dean leans into it, pushing his cheek into your palm. For the first time, it’s you being the negotiator between the two brothers rather than Sam being in between you and Dean. And for the first time, it was actually scary. 

---

With Sam, Dean doesn’t keep tally on who saves who’s ass. He’s family, it’s expected. And with you, he doesn't either. (He totally does, he just won’t admit it. However, you’re two up on him, and it kills him every time he thinks about it.) He swears to himself he’ll make it even eventually. 

---

Dean’s final straw is you washing Baby, wearing an all too small bikini as you wash the grime off of her. You had been giving him shit for it for awhile now, always quoting his dad on how he should’ve been taking better care of the car. It kills him, always being lectured about his precious baby that has been HIS car for years now. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, the front door of the house you’re staying in swinging open. He’s walking out just enough to watch closer, arms crossed as he stands on the sidewalk to the front door. You’re in the driveway, squatted down, washing the rims when he interrupts you. 

“Washing your dirty ass car.” 

“And why would you do that?”

“I have to ride around in the thing, it might as well look nice.” You shrug, continuing to wash. Your back is facing him when you talk, and Dean is watching almost your every move. His eyes trail down your back, over the curve of your ass, before landing on your thighs. They flex underneath your weight, a sight for sore eyes as he watches you. 

“No, smart ass, why are you doing it? Shouldn’t I be the one to wash my own car?” Dean mumbles, moving closer to you. You don’t budge, still crouched down next to his car. When he walks closer, it’s immediately a bad idea, and it’s too late before he realizes. 

“Well, you haven’t in let's say, the better part of 2 years so,” For the first time since he’s talked to you, you break your focus to look at him. Much closer to you, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. Still squatted down, in that tiny ass bikini you’re wearing. It covers enough of you to be legal, but god damn it, he’s reeling. 

“Don’t, don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?!” 

“Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing.” Dean grits his teeth, squinting his eyes as he stares down at you. 

“What I know I’m doing is washing your car. You’re the one that came out here for whatever reason. To fight with me? Who fuckin’ knows.” You turn your attention back to the car, “You can help me, instead of sitting there and bitching. Shirt off though, that’s a requirement.” You laugh out the last part, reaching to the side and throwing soap at him. It makes his white shirt see through, showing his skin through the cloth. 

“This is ridiculous,” Dean sighs, rolling his eyes. For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to play along. For a moment,  you’re sure he’s just going to walk back into the house. You smile softly when he’s pulling his shirt off, throwing it somewhere back towards the front door. You giggle, now playing a game with him. You smile as he reaches into the bucket, taking another sponge and beginning to wash the back rim. 

In the time you’ve known him, Dean is easy to rile up. Some good banter, a few batted eyelashes, maybe even look up at him, and he’s a goner. You’ve seen him get more numbers at bars than you can count on both hands and feet, never leaving a town without one. It’s a part of why you’ve never made  a move, because you know him. And you know his type, and you know what he likes to do. Just a little bit of fun, a little playing here and there. Regardless, it’s fun. 

You giggle, moving from the rim you’re washing to the hood. You’re leaning over the hood, bending at the hips to reach the top. Dean stands up from the back, determined to watch you wash the hood. He scoffs softly, walking around to you. “You’re doing this wrong,” He mumbles. 

“You haven't washed this in years and you’re lecturing me?”

“Just, shut the hell up for a second.” He mumbles, reaching around you to move your arm. He moves the sponge in circular motions, leaning over you. His hips barely make contact with yours, only the side of his hip brushing against your ass. If he moves over a single step, he’d be completely behind your bent over form. Suddenly, it’s all too much, he’s too close, and you’re so incredibly warm. “What, you’re finally listening to me for once?” Dean chuckles at your silence. 

You’re quiet, face beginning to flush. “Not listening, smart ass. I’m just learning the right technique, according to you.” You’re pressing your ass against the hip that’s next to you, trying for the life of you to get him to move. His hand flys down to grab at your waist, holding you still. You’re still in this ridiculously small bikini, and his hand is now on your bare skin. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Dean mumbles, his head falling forward slightly. His forehead hits your shoulder for a moment before he’s pulling himself up. Putting some space in between you, his hand still remains on your waist. For a moment, a realization hits him at how small your waist is, especially compared to his hands on your skin. 

“If i’m not, who else would be?” You giggle, leaning further forward to reach the very top of the hood. From his teaching, you wash small circles. “You know, everyone’s out of the house until later tonight, right? Some dinner, poker match. I’m surprised you didn’t go with them.” 

“What’re you saying, hm?” Dean mumbles, once again leaning over you. This time, he’s slightly more behind your hips, giving you more leverage to press back against him. 

You smile, feeling his chest hit your back as he leans forward, head beginning to nestle in the crook of your neck as he talks, lips brushing against your ear. As his weight falls further onto you, you allow your arms to fold as he presses against your back. You rest on your forearms, the change in position pressing harder into his hips. 

“Was this your plan the entire time, hm?” Dean grits, one hand moving to adjust your jaw, pushing your head to the side to make you look at him. “Wear this slutty excuse of a bikini, walk out here and wash my prized possession, get me to join? Hm?” 

“I wouldn’t say the entire time,” You giggle. “Maybe just since you walked out here.” You shrug, whining when he adjusts his hand, allowing his hand to move from your jaw to your neck. 

“This is unfair,” Dean mumbles, softly biting into your shoulder. “My favorite girl, out here washing my favorite car, and you expect me not to take the bait?” 

He allows his hand to move, instead of holding your waist, he holds your abdomen, pushing you back against him. You can feel him pressed against your skin, able to slot his hard cock in between your folds when you move a certain way. The fabric leaves little to the imagination, and he can feel the heat in between your legs. 

“You gonna be mean, and take me right here? Or be nice and take me to the bedroom hm?” You tease him, moaning softly when he grinds against you. 

“You know me, I like it all. So both.” He smiles, and though you can’t see it, you know. His fingertips dip underneath your bathing suit bottoms, trailing down to exactly where you need him. “You’re fucking soaked,” Dean mumbles, “You were thinking about this for awhile, huh? Pretending to just be washing my car, what a load of shit.” Dean mumbles, groaning softly as his fingers slip through your folds. He rubs gentle circles into your clit, slowly building pressure. 

“You, I, just maybe.” You whimper, immediately weak in the limbs as he toys with you. The circles speed up, drawing out the softest whines and whimpers. He chases the noises as if it’s his own high, humming along softly when you let out a particularly loud whimper. 

“How long have you been thinking of this, hm?” Dean asks, snaking one arm behind you as he gently slips a finger into your pussy, slow and careful in his movements. You whine even louder, tightening around his fingers as he slips in another, fucking into you while rubbing your clit with his other hand. He’s adamant, chasing your high before thinking of himself. “Answer me,” 

“Not long, since you’re all over every single girl you can get your hands on.” You mumble, riling him up. He fucks more roughly into you, grinding harshly against your g-spot. “Just need some relief, and you’re the only one here.” You’re lying through your teeth. 

“You know all that shit is just me messin’ around, and you’re a bad liar, you know that?” Dean mumbles, beginning to kiss along any skin he can reach. “This wet? And you expect me to believe this is for anyone, hm? I bet if Sammy came out here, you would’ve immediately covered up, huh, hide all of this.” His hands reach up to pull at your bikini top, exposing your tits to his touch. He roughly gropes and feels your skin, twisting and pulling at your nipples, punishing you for riling him up. 

“Okay, maybe not Sammy.” You shrug, “I could find a cutie at the bar, though, I’m sure.” His hand moves forward to wrap around your throat once again, squeezing just enough to make your mind fuzzy and to stop talking like a smart ass. 

“But you wouldn’t, if you wanted to, you would’ve already done it.” He shrugs, you can feel the movement against your shoulders. You’re close, squeezing down around him. You don’t even have to tell him, he’s already teasing and pulling your strings before you can speak. “See, who else can rile you up like this, hm?” 

“Can you make me cum, or are you all talk Dean?” You grit, almost unable to speak with him all over you like this. Every sense of you is filled with him, he’s all you can think of. 

“Yeah, sure,” He laughs softly when you clench hard around him, teetering close. “You don’t have to tell me you’re close, I can feel it. If you keep being smart with me, I can stop. It won’t take much, you know, rip this pretty little orgasm away from you in a second.”

His fingers slow, no longer giving you the stimulation you need to actually cum. “Please, please, I’m sorry. Please make me cum.” You plead with him. 

“There she is,” He laughs, speeding up once again to allow you to fall off the edge. When you come undone, it’s violent. Your legs shake, you tighten around him, and you thank god for baby underneath you to hold your weight up. Dean forces you to ride out the high, slowing down only barely to not push you into over-stimulation. 

“Fuck me.” You mumble, roughly pulling him closer to you. It doesn’t matter how, you need it. “Now, Dean, unless you can’t get it up in your old age-”

He slips one of his fingers into your mouth, roughly pulling on your cheek. “A please would be nice, huh Pretty girl?” Dean mumbles, and you can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. It’s fast and hasty, and you already know he’s pissed off with you constantly nagging him. “Just demand demand demand, whine whine whine.” Dean grits, roughly pulling your bottoms to the side, “Is that all you do, huh?” He’s pushing into you before you can react, pulling a loud moan from you as he holds your mouth open. 

“Fuck, fuck, thank you,” You whimper, squeezing around him tightly. He bottoms out, grinding against your hips as he savours the feeling of being completely inside you. His hips are rough, battering into you with little remorse. Fucking the smart ass out of you, that’s what he’s gonna do or die trying. From the mewls and whimpers slipping past your lips without your control, he feels he’s doing a pretty good job. 

“That’s more like it, there’s my girl.” Dean groans, cock throbbing at hearing you finally shut up for the first time, literally, since he’s met you. For once in his life, you aren’t spitting some sarcastic ass shit at him, and he’s not spitting it back at you. “Feels good hm, does my girl feel good?” Dean’s deep voice sends goosebumps across your skin, the vibrations running through you like a live wire as you work yourself up further. 

“Your girl, hm? That’s new.” You mumble, moaning softly when his grip moves to press down on your tongue, stopping you from talking. Drool pools around his finger, and he groans when you wrap your lips around it, tongue moving slightly underneath his touch to run along the pad. 

“Is that a problem?” 

You can’t respond, and he knows it. You clench tightly around him, a vice grip in response, and he almost genuinely laughs at how needy you are for him. His hips react immediately to you, thrusting rougher into you, chasing the pleasure the both of you are feeling. Moving his grip from your waist, he begins rubbing tight circles against your clit, trying to get you over the edge. It doesn’t take much to get you to fall over the edge, legs shaking underneath both of your weight. 

“Good girl, easy, easy, ride it out. Don’t hurt yourself now,” Dean patronizes you gently, continuing to chase his own high. 

“Cum, cum Dean, please.” You mumble around his fingers, tightening around even further. You’re so tight and just absolutely soaked that he’s spilling into you soon after, chanting your name gently in your ear as he comes undone. “Fuck, fuck,” You mumble, finally beginning to relax as he slows down his movements. 

“C’mon pretty girl, I gotta give you the second half of my promise.” Dean laughs softly, “Or not, if you can’t take it.” 

“If I can’t take it? Are you kidding me?” You smile, carefully pushing yourself up on your hands, glancing back at him. “Let’s go, your bed so I don’t have to wash my sheets later.” At this, Dean rolls his eyes, of course. Still, the second you turn around to face him, he’s hoisting you up onto his waist, pushing at your legs to get you to wrap around his torso. He carries you easily, walking through the empty house and straight to his room. Your back hits the bed, Dean toppling with you soon after. 

“Gonna make soft mushy love to me, huh Dean?” You joke with him, your legs still wrapped around his torso, arms holding his head in your palms. 

“After bending you over Baby, yeah. Best of both worlds or whatever they say.” Dean smiles, his characteristic smirk etched on his face. His head dips down slightly, softly kissing against your jaw, moving down to your neck, before sucking light marks into your chest. Far enough down not to be interrogated by Sammy later, but enough to leave a reminder of him. His head continues to trail down, hands pulling at your bikini bottoms while he bites at your thighs, once again leaving his mark on your otherwise perfect, unbroken skin. 

“Never would’ve thought I’d have you here like this, hm?” He’s rolling his eyes at you, moaning softly when your hands come to pull at his hair. Your thighs rest on his shoulders, tightening the slightest bit around his head when he draws closer, finally making contact with you. “Fuck Dean, you gonna be nice, Dean, please?” 

“To you, of course.” 

Dean is skilled, to say the least. He knows what he’s doing, where he needs to work, what strings he needs to pull, how to get you there. Dean isn’t quiet about his skills either, you’ve heard sly remarks about the girls at bars, road side pubs, and everything in between. He’s living up to his legend, your thighs clamping around his head within minutes. You don’t let him get any smart ass remarks in, pulling him closer when you know he’s about to make fun of you. You control him so easily, muscular legs holding him in place. He’s not going to tell you, you’d never let him live it down, but he’s absolutely shaking at the thought of the hold you have over him. 

“Gonna cum for you Dean, you’re gonna make me cum.” You whine, thighs flexing to grind against his face. He moans into you, caught off guard by your movement. You do it again, whimpering when you realize he likes this, he’s into this. “Cumming, fuck, cumming.” 

His hands move to run along your thighs, trying to calm the shaking underneath his touch. “Good girl, so good for me.” Dean praises. Before he can react, you’re ripping him up. You're holding anywhere you can, forcing Dean to hover over you, legs once again around his waist. 

“You gonna let me kiss you, or is that crossing a line?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please.” Dean mumbles, sighing deeply when you immediately connect your lips. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck, pulling him as close as physically possible. Dean wants to melt into you, fuse with you. He’s riling himself up, he knows that, but he swears your lips on him are heaven sent, curing his soul from whatever horrors it has been forced through. Like a breath of fresh air, like he’s alive again. He’d never tell you that, he can only imagine your reaction and the shit you would give him. 

You’re kissing him as if your life depends on it, hands tangling in his hair. Dean could kiss you for hours and not complain, he could do this all day if you’d let him. He’s unsure of how long you’ve been kissing him like this, so needy and whiny underneath him, but he doesn’t care. When he pulls away to catch his breath, your lips are slightly swollen, slick with saliva. Your face has flushed a bright red from the kiss, making you look cute despite being in such a lewd state. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” Dean mumbles, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you. 

You blush softly, but you try to hide it as just flushed cheeks. “Don’t get too sweet on me now.” You smile, tightening around his waist with your legs. 

“Right, right.” Dean smiles, fighting off a laugh when you reach to unbuckle his belt. He’s kicking the jeans off in record speed, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him move that fast. He’s back with you just as fast. “Holy shit,” Dean mumbles, shaking as his cock slides in between  your folds, easily sliding with your slick. It’s so intimate that he’s unused to it, and there’s the smallest fear in his chest that he won’t last having you like this. “Fuck, pretty girl.” 

You whine as he pushes in, so slow that it makes you squirm underneath him. Bottoming out, he allows his head to fall forward, landing in the crook of your neck. “Dean,” 

“Just, fuck, give me a second.” 

“It’s okay,” You mumble, understanding his situation. While you’re understanding, you’re not forgiving as you clench around him like a vise. Your hands reach around, holding his back as you pull him close. You kiss along his skin, waiting until he calms down. 

Dean groans, unbelievable, it’s unbelievable how he’s stuck like this. “I can’t believe this shit,” Dean mumbles, drawing away from you to hook your legs over his elbows, folding you in half when he leans forward again. Finally having some sort of advantage, he’s able to target exactly where he needs to hit. “I feel like a fuckin teenager again.” 

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” You laugh, relishing in the moans that slip past his lips. Finally getting his wits about him, he’s able to finally move, grinding against you. Dean’s not going to last, he knows that, as he begins gently rubbing light circles into your clit. He’s gotta get some sort of leverage, something. Bending further forward, you’re covered entirely by his weight. When your lips gently connect with his, Dean thinks he could conquer the world. Kissing him so gently, so sweetly, has him absolutely reeling. 

“I love you,” Dean blurts, before he can even think to stop it. You don’t think he means it, not in any other way than being horny and worked up. “God, I fucking love you,” He mumbles again, shrugging your legs off of his arms in favour of caging you underneath him, head in between either of his arms as he kisses you. His hips don’t slow for a second, kissing you and chasing his high as if his life depends on it. He’s hitting your g-spot and grinding against your clit at the same time, kissing you as if he would die otherwise, and pressing all of his weight onto you. 

You can’t answer or speak, can’t tell him off for saying that shit mid-fuck. Maybe it’s the position that has him acting up, or it’s the softest he’s fucked in awhile and he doesn’t know how to behave. You’re pulling him closer by his back, kissing him back just as feverishly. 

“Cum for me pretty girl, please, need to feel you wrapped around me.” Dean moans, trailing a hand down in between your bodies. He’s on a mission, truly, needing to get you there before he can allow himself to. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” 

“Dean,” You whine, “Sensitive, ‘m sensitive.” You complain, overstimulated and worked up. 

“I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me, just one more. Come for me one more time, please. I need it, hm?” Dean pleads with you, “Doing so well for me, taking my cock so well.” Him talking you through it is almost all you need to tip over the edge, the smallest bit of stimulation you need. Throwing your head back, you can’t even look at him when you come undone. Dean kisses along your exposed neck, not leaving any marks for your own sake. 

“Please, please, Dean. Come, no more.” You whine, tightening around him from over-stimulation. You need him to cum, and have a break. You don’t have to tell him twice, hell, you don’t even have to tell him once. He’s been on edge since he brought you into his fucking room. His head is buried in your shoulder, and you whimper when he bites down into the skin. 

You’re so sore and over-stimulated, mumbling as his hips finally slow in their movement. “Y/n,” Dean is mumbling along with you, “Easy pretty girl, you’re okay,” He attempts to soothe you. “Listen, what I said.”

“Don’t do this Dean, it’s okay.” 

“I meant it, I mean it still.” Dean explains, carefully sliding out, careful to not accidentally stimulate you any further. You’re still caged underneath him, his arms around your head. 

“You don’t have to tell me that, it’s okay, really. Heat of the moment, or whatever.”

“Please, listen. I mean it.” He’s speaking so softly it’s genuinely been awhile since you’ve heard this tone, and it’s never been with you. With Sammy, likely. “I know you don’t believe me, and I wish I saved it for a more romantic moment, I do. But I do mean it.” 

“Is this what you say to every girl-”

“I haven’t been with anyone in forever, you know that. Getting a number is different, that’s just me trying to get information Y/N.” Dean speaks, pulling himself further off of you, giving you space. He’s reaching for his bag, trying to find something to cover you with. He finds a t-shirt, carefully putting it over your head. It goes down to your thighs, covering you. He’s snatching his boxers next, he’s gotta have some decency for this conversation. “I love you, Y/n. You don’t have to say it back, but you deserve to know the truth at least.” 

He’s fully prepared to be shut down, given your reaction thus far. You lean forward, and he thinks you’re about to climb away from him, move out of his bed. Your lips softly connect with his, the gentlest kiss. He’s smiling like an idiot into the kiss, almost unable to kiss you from the extent of his smile. “We can’t tell Sammy, he’ll think you’ve lost it.” Dean almost giggles at this, yes, giggles. What has gotten into him? What the actual hell is happening right now? Still, he nods along with you in agreement. 

“We can’t tell Sammy, or you don’t want to tell Sammy?” 

You’re rolling your eyes. “We don’t have to tell Sammy, he’ll know.” It’s the truth, he’ll figure it out before you or Dean even have a chance to tell him. Dean nods again, the faintest of smiles beginning to spread across his face again. It grows tenfold when you’re leaning forward, cupping his face in your palms, and once again kissing him. He’s shaking when you lean forward, forcing his back to hit the bed, your legs soon straddling his hips. You’re fully seated on his lap, legs underneath his body to give you more leverage to plant yourself against him. 

Your hands wrap around his head, pulling him into you. “Dean, say you love me again.” You mumble, diving back in to kiss him. He can barely mumble the words out, speaking with your lips on his the entire time. Not knowing it was possible, you’re kissing him harder. 

“Riling yourself up, pretty girl?” Dean chuckles softly, hands holding your waist snugly. His grip tightens when you grind against him, drawing out a strangled moan. Dean’s head falls back, face scrunching up. He can’t watch you grind against him in his t-shirt, he really can't. You’re so warm it makes him shake, completely bare as you grind against his boxers. You’re soaking through the cloth, he can feel it. He curses his old age in the back of his head, regretting he can’t recover as easily as he used to. You’re not too much younger than him, but it’s still making him frustrated as you’re ready for round 3. 

“Dean,” Your voice comes out as a whine, your body slumping forward as you curl into his warmth. Your hips continue to grind against his, lips running along his skin. You’re fighting off the urge to leave marks on his skin, losing yourself in the feeling of being close to him. 

“C’mon pretty girl, show me what you’re made of.” Dean’s already regretting his words. He knows you’re quite literally going to make him eat them. Your feet remain underneath his body, flexing as you seat yourself more heavily against him. Your hands move all over his body, finally stopping in his hair as you connect your lips with his. Deans losing his mind. He feels his thighs shake when you lift your weight up and reach down, pushing his boxers down past his hips. He assists you momentarily as he lifts both of your weight off the bed for easier removal. “Gonna make me regret my taunting?” 

“You know it.” You almost giggle, and it only solidifies his belief that he will, in fact, eat his words. You’re soaking wet as you make contact with him, easily sliding through your folds as you slowly and carefully rock your hips. Without warning, in one swift roll of your hips, he’s sheathed inside of you all the way to the hilt. 

“Fuck, fuck, goddamn it.” Dean’s head is thrown back against the pillow, muscles straining in his neck with the force he’s exerting. Your hips grind and roll against his, drawing the prettiest moans from yourself. Dean knew this was gonna happen, and yet he’s shocked that it is. “Should’ve, fuck, picked my words better.” 

Dean shuffles against the bed, sitting up so his back rests against the headboard. He easily pulls you along with him, hands securely holding you by the hips. He’s closer this way it feels like, can smell the sex and heat rolling off of your body. Your arms wrap around his head loosely, leaning down to connect your foreheads together. “Wanna cum like this Dean.” Your breath is basically a pant, grinding rougher as you chase whatever high you have left. 

“Do what you want, please, use me.” Dean’s losing it as he leans forward and marks your skin, too fucked out to even think about what he’s actually doing. You’re going to scold him for this later, something he’s almost sure of, but he can’t bring it in himself to care. You’re coming undone embarrassingly soon, clenched tightly around him as your thighs shake gently. Your hips never stop moving, riding out your high long past the comfortable point. “My girl, my good girl,” Dean is cooing, almost babbling when he watches you use him. 

He’s so overstimulated and so worked up it hurts, but he’ll grit his teeth and bare it if it means he gets to have you like this. You’re arguably more overstimulated than he is, legs shaking and small mewls or moans unconsciously slipping past your lips. He’s moving before you can react, your back hitting the bed. His hips pick up immediately where yours left off, pace barely faltering. You’re soaking wet, the sounds sending a shiver up his spine. “You’re so good to me, holy fuck, this is what I've been missing out on for years. Are you kidding me, fuck.” Dean groans, neck burying into your shoulder. 

“I just, fuck, haven’t been touched in awhile. Easily excitable,” You joke, legs moving to wrap around his torso. With the amount of effort it takes to whine that sentence out, he knows you’re lying. He huffs slightly in annoyance, a small smirk on his face at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation the two of you are in. 

“You’re so full of shit,” It’s gruff and harsh, his brows scrunching together with the effort he’s exerting. His abs have never been clenched harder in his life, torso rock solid from the over-stimulation and effort. “Even if you could quiet down and stop whining, you’d still give yourself away.” He teases you, and you know he’s right. “Wanna try it, hm pretty girl? Shhhh,” It’s gentle and soothing rather than rough, despite his situation. He gently shushes and coos to you, eventually getting your whining and moaning to mere pants. Like he said, you still give yourself away with the slick noises each time his hips roll into yours. “Do you fuckin hear yourself? Listen pretty girl, just listen.” 

You’re beyond fucked out, listening as Dean explains to you. Your lips are caught tightly in between your teeth, fighting hard to keep as quiet as you possibly can. Your head is thrown back against the bed, straining as your legs lock around his torso harder than before. “Dean,”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. I know, I know. You give yourself away, hm?” He mocks, hands coming to run along your thighs, squeezing the muscle underneath. “One more for me, just give me one more and I’ll clean you up all nice and gentle.” 

“I can’t-”

“Don’t be like that.” It’s soft, but just enough to be patronizing. 

“Please, let’s cum. Last one.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly around him. It’s hard to push in, so overworked and sensitive. Dean’s voice alone works you up more than you ever realized, and having him so close, talking in your ear like this. It’s bad news. Dean’s hips are stuttering as you wrap your legs tighter around his torso, working himself up now. The noises you’re making would be embarrassing if it wasn’t Dean, who’s so beyond into it. Maybe it’s the both of your instincts being heightened from years of fighting fuck knows what, but the front door opening has the both of you immediately stilling. 

Dean has never seen your eyes widen this much, almost comical as you look at him. There’s a wicked smile on his face as he shuffles his arms around, ever so gently placing his hand over your mouth. “Quiet, pretty girl.” Dean’s whispering in your ear, hips slowing just enough to grind into you, clit grinding against his skin. You’re fighting hard to keep quiet, opting to bite down on Dean’s hand instead. He’s hissing softly, repositioning so you bite into the side of his hand. 

“C’mon, give me some slack. Cum for me, please. I need to cum pretty girl, you’re gonna make me cum for you.” Dean swears your eyes are going to roll back and out of your skull and he’s going to be permanently like this with how you’re wrapped around him. Dean’s about to beg, he can feel the words on his tongue. Plead with you, even. His silent prayers are granted when your head throws itself back, your arms moving to wrap around his biceps. With the force you’re holding him, he thinks you’ll leave bruises. He’s following you soon after, hips faltering as he comes undone inside of you. Your legs lock around him and suddenly you’re a bodybuilder with the amount of strength you have. 

Your legs are securely locked, not allowing him to rock anymore, needing no more stimulation. Like you thought, you would be embarrassed with how wet you are if it wasn’t Dean who was the one making you sound like this. “The others are back, I have to go.” You whisper, immediately faltering when your weight settles on your legs. Your bottoms are put on with the help of Dean, who keeps you upright. Too fucked out, your legs are almost unusable as you wobble your way towards the door with bikini top in hand. You have to get going before everyone comes into the back of the house, that you know. 

“You can’t even walk straight.” Dean’s right behind you, trying to keep you up on your feet. He’s trying very hard not to laugh at your condition, but you can hear it in his voice. 

“We can’t scar Sam like this.” You’re trying hard not to giggle, slowly peeling open the door. Dean catches you before you can sprint away from him, yanking you back into his embrace. He's grinning down at you, lips softly pressing against yours. You're distracted, beginning to get lost in the kiss. Reminding you, Dean begins to peel the door open slightly. Once it’s open enough, you’re making a sprint for your room. You hear footsteps soon after you make it to your room, ear pressed against the door to listen. 

“Dean, do I wanna know why I just saw Y/N sprint across the hall in your tee shirt?” 

“No, no you do not.” 

The next case you work, Sam doesn’t mention a single thing. In fact, Sam doesn’t mention anything, ever, even the next morning when you’re awkwardly making coffee in the kitchen while he sits at the kitchen counter. Perhaps you should have asked how he felt about this before you went and created your master plan of you and Baby the other day. You’re sucking in your bottom lip as you’re thinking about how you’re going to bring this up, Dean out for the next half hour or so as he grabs food. 

“Sammy?” You mumble softly, placing a mug of black coffee on the table for him. He won’t drink it with cream or sugar anymore, neither does Dean. 

“Hm?” He asks absentmindedly, thumbing through the newspaper as he reads. He’s not listening to you, you know that. When he reads, he’s entirely immersed in the information he’s processing. He fumbled around for the coffee mug, and you slid it closer to where he’s smacking the table so he can actually find the handle. 

“It doesn’t bother you, right?” You ask softly, waiting for him to process what you asked after he finishes whatever sentence he’s currently on. You don’t have to specify, you already know he knows what you’re referring to. Finally, he breaks his focus from the paper to look at you since you’ve walked into the kitchen and started making coffee. (You don’t know it, but he looked at you to make sure you grabbed his mug as well.) 

He laughs, and for a second you’re disheartened. “Are you serious?” 

“I-what?” You don't know whether to be confused or offended. You were going to genuinely hear him out, but this is not the tone you were expecting. 

“You and Dean have been at each other’s throats since you met. I’m surprised you guys didn’t jump on each other sooner.” He laughs, sipping his coffee and shaking his head softly. He laughs at you more, “You think I would care about that? Oh my god, I’ve never seen Dean run out of the house faster this morning to get you food, wide eyed and bushy tail. I think he thought he was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed.” 

“Fuck, should I go lay back down?” You genuinely wonder, making Sam laugh even harder. 

“You guys are ridiculous. You’re telling me this is the first time? I honestly thought you guys have been hate fucking since we met.” 

“Sammy, pleaseeeee.” You whine, tossing your head back. Sipping your coffee, you want to whine and pout. 

“No offense, but I don't care what the two of you guys get up to. As long as you’re happy and don’t die on a hunt because you’re distracted, it’s not a problem.” 

“Right, right. It won't interfere with hunting, I promise.” You nod your head to him, “But seriously, should I go get back into bed?” 

Sam laughs, shaking his head as he refocuses on the newspaper he’s reading. You don’t, because Dean’s walking into the door soon after your conversation with Dean. Making eye contact, his face falls completely and Sam was definitely correct with his guess of breakfast in bed. Regardless, Dean pretends he just got food and had no other motive. “Breakfast has arrived,” He announces, placing the bags on the table. “What, no coffee for me?!” 

“Oh come on, give me a break. You were nowhere in sight this morning.” You defend yourself, “Not even a BRB note, how was I supposed to know when you were coming back?” 

“Oh, but you’ll make Sammy one-”

“Sammy was sitting in here in the kitchen when I woke up-”

“In the mug you know I like-”

“What?! That’s his mug!”

“It totally isn’t! Just because he uses it more often than I do-”

“OKAY!” Sam interrupts, and he’s smiling like an idiot when you turn to look at him. Nothing has changed between you or Dean, and this just proves that. Sure, you’re eyeing him up like a starved woman, and Dean is trying hard to ignore you in your little pajamas, but nothing has changed between the two of you. “You guys gonna eat or fuck against the kitchen counter?” 

Both you and Dean groan in annoyance, sitting down at the table and rummaging through the bags. After breakfast, you guys go over the main points of the new case you’re working on. The drive makes you want to bash your face into Baby’s window over and over, and you can already feel the tiredness in your bones. You guys start the drive not long after, packing up everything and getting a jump start to the job. 7 hours in and Sam switches with Dean to drive, now in the passenger seat. 

You kick the seat when he leans it back and pins your legs to the backseat, “Don’t make me come back there!” He threatens, to which you stick your tongue out at him. Another seven hours in and you’re switching with Sam, who sleeps in the backseat. 

You and Dean talk in the front. “So, Sammy doesn’t care then?” Dean whispers, and you shake your head no. You’re whispering in an attempt to not disturb Sam, even though you think Sam could sleep through an earthquake. Giving him some type of courtesy, you try to keep the noise down to a minimum. 

“Sammy said he thought we had been, quote, hate fucking since we first met, end quote.” You giggle, glancing over at him with a sheepish smile. Dean is trying awfully hard not to howl laugh right now, and god is it hard. You giggle softly, shaking your head at him. 

“Well, in that case.” Dean shrugs, reaching over the front bench and grabbing the inside of your thigh as you drive. 

“Winchester.” You warn, genuinely warn, as your voice remains low and calm. 

“What? You said he doesn’t care.” Dean mumbles, chuckling softly. Glancing back into the back seat, Sam is passed out. He wouldn’t do that in front of Sammy, but he can push your buttons. Dean slides his hand closer to your hip, slipping down onto your inner thigh further. You give him no reaction, knowing the second you do it’ll only fuel the fire. Dean bites at his lips, trying extremely hard not to laugh at your resolute attitude. His fingers dip underneath the waistband of your shorts, making your hips jolt back into the bench. 

You’re grabbing his hand, ripping it backwards and twisting his arm. “Fuck, I love it when you’re rough with me.” Dean groans softly, a smile still playing on his features. “Okay, okay sweetheart, I hear you loud and clear.” He smiles, pulling his arm free and kissing your knuckles. 

You finally get to the motel after what feels like 2000 years, you driving the last leg of the trip. Sam shuffles into the motel without saying a word to either of you and Dean, still half asleep as he pushes into the room. He’s  falling into the bed and back asleep in no time, and you and Dean share a look. Dean has a soft chuckle, and you giggle when he slides his hand across your thigh, pulling you by your hips across the bench of Baby. 

“No, no, no pretty boy. You made me drive the shitty shift.” You mumble, shuffling so you’re pressed against him. He’s easily manipulated, allowing his body to fall back against the passenger side door. Your legs easily swing over his hips, settling down on his lap with ease. You hate driving at night, and he knows that. “And you’ve been teasing me for the past 20 miles. I’m gonna do what I want, and if you ask nice enough by the end of this, i’ll let you cum, hm?” 

Dean whimpers from underneath you, eyebrows knitting together as you speak to him however you like. When you slam your lips down onto his, he groans into it. You’re frustrated, and annoyed, and slightly angry but not exactly at him. You need an outlet, and Dean is a willing one. Your hips press heavily down into his, using your legs underneath him as leverage to seat yourself against him. Your hands are everywhere and anywhere, running all along his skin underneath his clothes. There’s a whimper that escapes him when you rip off your shirt, not allowing him the pleasure of doing so. 

“This isn’t fair-” You grip his face in between your hands, holding his chin. With the slight pressure, his lips pucker out slightly. You gently peck his lips like this, releasing some of the grip you have on his face. Dean’s hands land on your waist, gently brushing and rubbing along any exposed skin you’ll allow him. 

“Be good, Dean.” You mumble, “You’ll be good for me, hm?” You ask softly, picking your hips up enough to yank your shorts and underwear off in one swift movement. “Let me ride your fingers, baby, get me ready to take you.” You command, voice leaving zero room for disagreement. 

“Yes, yes,” He mumbles absentmindedly, hands shuffling to slip further down your hips. You hiss softly as he makes contact with your clit, well practiced and well trained at this point. He gently rubs along your clit, drawing soft, tight circles into the bud. There’s a small gasp as he slides a digit in, expertly curling and moving in the way he knows you like. You pant softly when your hips grind against him on their own, searching for any touch or stimulation he’ll allow you to have. You chase it like you need it to live, to breathe. And Dean chases the little whimpers and whines as if he’ll die without them. Another digit makes you slump down against him slightly, seeking his warmth and closeness, hips still moving against him. 

“My pretty boy Dean.” You whimper, mumbling partially against his lips as you talk. One of your hands rest behind his head, the other one running your fingers through his hair. Dean reels at the soft compliment, head pushing into your hand as he seeks for your touch. You’re using him like a goddamn toy, and he can’t help but twitch at the thought. He’d let you do anything, anything you ask if it’s from your pretty little mouth. You kiss him hungrily, breaking contact more often than he wants as you moan and pant against him. He seeks your kiss, neck craning up. 

Your hands sloppily fumble with his jean buttons, wanting them off right this second, losing your patience. You push them just below his hips, freeing his cock from his boxers. “Easy, pretty girl, you gotta let me make you cum first.” Dean mumbles, leaning forward to kiss your neck that is burning up. 

“Need you,”

“Need you to feel good, baby.” Dean mumbles, working more feverishly into you to push you past the edge. There’s a boost in his pride when you fall apart against him, arms locking around his head gently as you cum. 

“Dean, wanna fuck you. You gonna let me do that?” You mumble, carefully taking him in your hand. Dean hisses when he slips in between your folds, head thrown against baby for some sort of stability as he tries to compose himself. Cumming when she wants me too, he reminds himself. Your hands are gentle but firm, and dean’s more than aware you’re not giving up your current position on top of him. 

“Gonna let you do anything,” dean mumbles, picking his head up slightly as he watches you line his cock up. He fights to keep his head up, watching as you devour inch by inch of his length. You’re grinning wide when you catch him. 

“Gonna watch me take you? Gonna watch me fuck you, hm?” you pant softly against his lips, snapping your hips down against his. You grind and rub against his his pelvic bone, fully seated against him, tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix. Dean’s head falls back against the door, unable to watch. He can’t watch this without cumming earlier than your word. He groans when you hear the tsk sound as you kiss your teeth, whimpering when you pick his head up. 

“I’m trying to listen to you, don’t wanna cum early sweetheart.” Dean mumbles, biting hard onto his bottom lip. His eyes are half-lidded as he watches you take him, a shiver running up his spine as he tries not to think about anything for too long. You’re so tight, and wet, and just absolutely pulsing around him. He’s sure there’s a pile underneath him from how wet you are around him, his abs clenched harder than he thought possible as he fights off his orgasm. “God damn it, baby. You’re gonna fucking kill me.” he groans, reaching down and rubbing tight circles into your clit. The sharp gasp sends goosebumps up his arms, listening to your soft noises. 

“This is cheating Dean,” You moan, continuing to fuck yourself down onto him. 

“C'mon baby, lemme have it pretty girl,” Dean whimpers, doing his best to snap his hips up against you. Your weight jolts against him, allowing him more room to snap his hips up. He grins, as he finally has some advantage as he fucks into you. When you come undone, it’s shaky and messy, hips slamming down against Dean's to get the movement to stop. His hips continue to rut into you, milking the orgasm for as long as you’ll let him. 

“Being so good Dean,” You coo into his ear, your face burying itself into his neck. Dean's quite literally fraying at the edges trying to hold himself together. He could cry, eyes watering as he screws his eyes shut. 

“C'mon baby, cut me some slack,” He groans, sitting up abruptly to lean into your body. You squeal slightly at how quickly he jostles you around, your legs wrapping around his torso as he moves. 

“I like seeing you so pent up, ‘s cute,” You mumble, holding his head in your palms as you kiss him. Reaching around, you softly pull at his hair, scratching his head where you’re pulling. Your hips grind against him, doing more for you than him. Dean's hands grip your waist and thighs, moving you against him. 

“Wanna be good for you,” Dean groans, leaning forward to bite into your shoulder. 

You smile, holding him gently by his neck as you lean back, taking him with you. He’s groaning into your skin, head falling into your shoulder. “C'mon, want you to feel good,” You mumble, catching his lips gently when his head picks up to glance at you. 

“I do feel good. Feel good if you’re feeling good,” Dean grunts, hissing softly when you push his hips before pulling him back in with your heels. He almost wants to let you make him cum like this, but the shake in your thighs assured him you wouldn’t be able to. “My girl,” Dean moans softly, snapping his hips into you. Your soft mewls spur him on, groaning softly when your hands pull at his hair. Dean's losing it, moaning into the crook of your neck as he buries his face into your skin. 

His weight is pressed entirely against you, elbows digging into the seat on either side of you. You're whimpering in his ear, and he’s been holding off for what feels like years at this point. You pick his head up, pressing your lips to his. The both of you are moaning and panting so hard it’s difficult to kiss, riling yourselves up. “Feels good, Dean, do I make you feel good?” You pant against his lips, legs squeezing tighter around his waist. Your hands are all over him, touching any inch of skin you can, feeling every muscle flexing with the effort of his ministrations. “Talk to me Winchester, my pretty boy.” You moan, one particular thrust sending goosebumps across your skin. 

“I- fuck- can't.” Dean almost grunts, lips never leaving yours as he talks. “ ‘s too good, this pussy, fuck, made for me.” He groans, lips leaving yours to kiss along your cheek and jaw. Your hands settle on his biceps, trying hard to ground yourself here with him. “Never wanna leave it, never wanna leave you.” He groans, pulling you closer by the back of your neck to properly kiss you. “Fuck, please let me cum.”

You hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for you, a giant smile creeping over your face at how good he is. “Cum, Dean. Cum inside me, please, need it.” You mumble, grip tightening to hold yourself against him as he roughly fucks into you, chasing the high he’s been craving. You squeal and jerk under him as he bites into your shoulder, roughly laving over it with his tongue to relieve the pain. You squeeze tighter around him from it, making his hips falter in their place. You’re over-sensitive, beginning to squirm. “Cum, Dean, please, can’t take it.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly more. 

“Fuck, taking it so good. Just a bit more, be patient for me sweetheart.” Dean groans against your ear, thrusts becoming more erratic as he finally lets himself go. Your legs are practically numb as he buries himself to the hilt, cumming inside you. You complain softly as he lazily fucks his cum into you, enjoying the absolute mess you’re making underneath him. 

“Please-” You hiccup, pulling his hair softly. Dean slows, stilling as he kisses you properly for the first time in forever, no longer panting and moaning against you. You relish in it, not rushing as you kiss him back. 

“I think I’ll make you drive the shit shift more often.” He’s smiling, carefully getting you cleaned up. He’s proud of how fucked out you are, pride oozing from his demenor. You have the same pride, knowing the second he touches that motel bed he’ll be out for the night. 

You peck him quickly, not wanting to rile him up again. “Sure, but next time you wont cum.” You giggle, taking off before he has the wit to catch you and pin you to baby again. Running into the motel room where Sam is knocked out, you're in the shower before Dean can catch up to you. You hear a snarky remark from the other side of the door, making you giggle.

[g0thamgirl]

show me who you are ─

the mark of cain weighs heavily on dean's shoulders, affecting all of you. when the bloodlust becomes too much, you know you have to help him. in the only way you can think of.

cw ─ slight angst, mark of cain!dean, very slight mention of sa/non-con (not from dean), blood, gore, canon-typical violence, smut!, fem! reader, praise kink, dirty talk, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected p in v, sorry if i miss anything else!

☆ 💿PORNSTAR - nessa barrett

i wanna hear you talking dirty,

i wanna see it on your face.

⭒

it was getting worse, you could all see it. you, sam, cas - hell, even crowley could see it. the mark was slowly killing dean, and it was only getting worse.

it wasn't as obvious at first, just small outbursts here and there, but surely enough, it became more obvious. he was more snappy than usual, spent more time alone, and he would zone out more, hands either clenched into fists or one was clasped tightly over the mark on his forearm.

you didn't bring it up to him, that was the silent agreement that you, sam and cas had come up with, and you obliged to it. so you didn't tell dean how the far away look in his eyes made your brow furrow and your stomach churn with worry, or how your heart broke every night when you could hear him wake himself up from his nightmares. you didn't tell him how seeing him struggle, and refuse help, was slowly but surely breaking you down, and you definitely didn't tell dean that you missed him.

sure, he was right there, just down the hall from you, close enough that you could hear him in the ungodly hours of the night, restlessly rummaging around his room, but he still wasn't there. not the real him, not the dean that you knew. the dean you knew was being held captive by that horrid mark that not only haunted his dreams, but yours now too. you missed your dean, the one who told stupid jokes that made you choke on your beer. the dean who grinned proudly whenever you correctly named a song on the radio and who would sing a long loudly to his favorite led zeppelin songs, glancing at you as he drove.

drives are mostly silent now, save for the hum of the impala, or the quiet background noise of the radio, but still never those homemade tapes that he loved so much. he doesn't drink with you anymore, though he still does it an unhealthy amount. he drinks alone in his room, or late at night by himself in the kitchen, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his eyes staring somewhere far off. the only reason you even know this is because one night, when you couldn't sleep, you went to the kitchen for a glass of water and found him there, only to have him get up and leave with only a nod of acknowledgement to you.

it was killing him, and if you didn't do something about it, it was going to kill you too.

the hunt was supposed to be a cakewalk. it was just a nest of vampires not too far from the bunker, and dean insisted that he was fine, that the mark's screaming wasn't too much for him to bear and he was feeling good enough to go with you guys on the hunt.

after sharing a look with sam, you reluctantly relented, agreeing to let him come along under the condition that if he felt the bloodlust creeping in, he would back off and stay behind in the impala.

that leads to now, where you were currently kicking yourself for not doing recon before going in. the nest was bigger than you and sam had originally thought, there were probably double the amount of vamps than you had previously thought, and when you, him and dean had crept into the nest, one of the freshly turned ones - a child, no less - had spotted you and screamed, awaking the whole nest. and so here you were, wrestling with one of the female bloodsuckers on the grimy floor of the abandoned barn.

her dirt-caked nails raked down the sides of your neck, making you hiss in pain as you brought your knee up hard, hitting her in the stomach, effectively pushing her off of you. as soon as she was on her back next to you, you scrambled up, quickly grabbing your machete that the bitch had knocked out of your hands and turning back to her. without even giving her a chance to bare her fangs, you raise your bloodied machete over your head, bringing it down with a cry, cutting her head right off.

taking a second to breathe, you stand up, panting heavily as you brush some hair out of your face, turning your head to the side to spit out some blood, running your tongue over your teeth to get rid of the taste. your moment of rests is cut short though, when you hear a loud thud and the sounds of a struggle from the room next to you.

gripping your machete tighter and taking a deep breath, you rush out of the room you had been in, leaving behind the bodies of the three vamps you had killed. you sprint out the door, crashing through the room next door, your heart racing as you see sam in a struggle with two bloodsuckers.

you rush over, cutting the head off one before he even has the chance to fully turn around. the other one drops sam in surprise, turning to you and snarling, his disgusting rows of fangs glinting in the low light. using the vampire's moment of distraction, sam grabs his own machete and raises it, slicing the vamp's head clean off.

"you okay?" you ask, chest heaving as adrenaline courses through your veins.

sam nods, raising a hand to brush his hair back from his face, his own erratic breathing evidence of the fight. "yeah. yeah, i'm good. are you?"

"one of 'em got me good with her nails, but nothing fatal," you answer, tilting your head to show him the marks. he winces in sympathy, eyes raking over the angry red marks before he bends down to pick up a vial of dead man's blood. "where's dean?"

"not sure, i lost him once they jumped on us," sam says, brows furrowing as he pockets the dead man's blood, adjusting his grip on his machete. "maybe we should-"

whatever sam was going to say is cut off as a scream comes from the floor below. you and sam share a look, fear spiking in your chest before you both turn, racing out the door. you sprint through the hallway and down the stairs, sam right on your heels as you skip steps, landing shakily at the bottom. your eyes scan the landing, and you turn to call out to sam, but before you can get a word out, a hand grabs your arm, throwing you across the room.

you hear sam call your name behind you, but he gets cut off, and you assume that he has a vamp of his own to deal with. you push yourself up with a groan, but as your sitting up, a hand grabs your arm again, hauling you up and slamming you against the wall.

"well, would ya look at this," the vamp spits, his yellow stained teeth shown in a grin as he leans in, his putrid breath in your face making you want to vomit. "the winchester's brought their little girl toy. how nice of them to bring us a gift."

"go to hell," you spit, the words strained as his hand fists in the collar of your shirt, pressing against your neck as he raises you higher against the wall.

the vamp only grins wider, running his tongue over his small, cracked lips. his dark, greasy hair falls in front of his eyes, and his bloodshot blue eyes make him look crazed. he's bleeding from a fresh cut on his forehead, and you wonder if one of the boys had already got into it with him.

"ooh, and she's feisty," he snarls, smirking cruelly. he raises his other hand to brush his grime-covered fingertips over your forehead, running them through your hair.

you turn away from his touch, struggling in his vice-like grip as bile builds in your throat, but his smirk only grins, a low, dark chuckle leaving his crusted lips.

"that's just fine," he whispers, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he leans in to nose at your neck, inhaling deeply, ignoring your struggle in his grip. "i like it when they fight back."

his words make your heart pound, your chest tightening with panic, eyes wide with fear as you struggle in his tight grasp, arms flinging and nails scratching at anywhere you can reach, but he doesn't even flinch, his grip not loosening at all. you open your mouth to scream, hoping to get the attention of one of the boys, or anyone that will help you at this point, but the hand that was in your hair slaps over your mouth just as you part your lips, your scream muffled into his palm.

"ah-ah, be a good girl and stay quiet," he tuts, pulling back to bare his fangs to you. you just stare at him, eyes wide with fear as you continue to struggle in his hold. you squeeze your eyes shut as he leans in again, a tear slipping down your cheek.

"let her go."

your eyes snap wide open at the familiar voice of dean, gaze landing on him over the vamp's shoulder, relief filling you at the sight of him. he was standing there, blood splattered all over his clothes, face and hair, his grip white-knuckled on his machete. sam stands behind him, his own eyes wide with fear as they flick between dean and you in the monster's grip. you try to call out to them, but the sound comes out as a muffled whimper against the vamp's hand.

the bloodsucker turns his head to look behind him, his smirk faltering at the sight of dean. his fangs retract, but his grip on you stays vice-like.

"well if it isn't dean winchester," the vamp snarls, his hand over your mouth tightening slightly, making you wince. "come to save your little doll?"

dean's jaw clenches, his expression darkening even further as he stares at you and the vamp, taking a menacing step forward.

"i said - let her go," he growls, something dark flashing in his emerald eyes.

the vamp's eyes widen in fear at the look on dean's face, and his grip on you loosens slightly. that's the opening you need, and with all the strength you can muster, you bite down hard on his hand, simultaneously kicking your leg as hard as you can into his crotch.

the monster cries out in pain, his hands dropping you as they fly to where you kicked him. you fall to the floor with a small thud, catching yourself before you hit your head. you quickly stand up while the bloodsucker is distracted, and sam immediately rushes over to you, grabbing you and pulling you into his arms, backing you away from dean and the vamp.

"sam, wait, dean-"

"the mark's got him right now," sam cuts you off, his voice thick with worry as he holds you to him, soothing your trembling form. "we just gotta stay out of the way, there's nothing we can do."

his words sink in, and it's then you realize that the barn is quiet. your eyes widen in realization, and you turn your head to look up at sam, heart pounding in your chest.

"he killed them all?" you ask, your voice just barely above a whisper. sam's grim nod is enough to make you feel sick.

your attention is torn from that information as you hear the vamp cry out in pain, and when you look up, you see dean's got him on the floor, the vamp's head twisted at an odd angle as dean steps on his back, machete raised over his head.

"this is less than you deserve for touching her, you disgusting son of a bitch," dean spits, and you watch in horror as he raises his machete over his head, bringing it down in one smooth stroke, blood splattering across his face as he cuts the vamp's head clean off.

the barn is silent, save for dean's heavy breath and the pounding of your heart. dean's sleeve is torn, and you can see the mark pulsing an angry red, burning into his skin, the sight making your chest tighten even more.

dean doesn't move, he just stands there, chest heaving and eyes blazing as he stares at the dead body of the vamp, his knuckles white as he grips the machete, blood dripping from the blade onto the old wooden floor.

your heart aches in your chest, and you pull yourself from sam's arms, giving him a reassuring look when he tries to stop you. taking a deep breath, you take a small step towards where dean stands, your body still shaking slightly from adrenaline.

"dean?" you call softly, your voice gentle, trying not to startle him. you don't flinch when his eyes snap up to you, and though his body is still tense, you can see something soften slightly in his gaze when it lands on you. "can you put the machete down, please?"

to your surprise, he does as you ask, the blade falling to the floor with a clatter that echoes through the empty barn. you take that as an invitation to step closer, your eyes never leaving dean's as they follow your movements, his lips parted slightly as he breathes.

when you reach him, you tentatively reach your arm up, placing your hand on his arm, but he jerks back, sucking in a breath as he seemingly snaps out of whatever haze he was in. he takes a step back from you, eyes flickering between you and the severed body of the vampire on the floor.

"let's just go," he says, his voice hoarse and cold. with one last flickering glance up to you, he bends down to grab his machete before turning on his heel and walking to the entrance of the barn.

⭒

the drive back to the bunker had been silent and filled with a suffocating tension that made it hard for you to breathe. once you were back inside the bunker, it wasn't any better, dean not saying a word as he storms ahead, rushing off to his room and closing the door abruptly behind him.

you and sam don't say much as he checks over you for any serious injuries, and you for him. he just hugs you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before heading to his own room. you follow suit, shedding your bloodied clothing in your room before grabbing a change of clothes and heading to the bathroom attached to your bedroom, which the boys had agreed to give you as one of the few that had it's own bathroom.

in the shower, you turn the heat all the way up, scrubbing the blood from your stained skin, washing off the hands of the vamp who had grasped you. you rub until your skin is raw, and even though you did the other day, you shave, just to feel that sense of normalcy instead of the sickly unease that crawls in your nerves. you wash your hair twice, ridding yourself of the blood and dirt you had collected in the barn, sighing as the steam melted against your skin.

as you stood there under the burning stream, you thought about dean, about the look in his eyes, the empty way he had walked away from you, and all of the pain he had been going through since he had taken the god-forsaken mark. you knew that the guilt from succumbing to the blood lust weighed heavily on his shoulders, and you just wished that there was some way you could focus that anger, that need on something else. and that's when the idea came to you.

immediately, you shut off the water, grabbing a towel and wrapping your hair in it, grabbing another one to wrap around your body, rushing back into your room and grabbing a different pair of clothes than you had previously chosen. you trade out the old sweatpants for a pair of sleep shorts, large sweatshirt for an old t-shirt that you stole from dean months ago, and tossing your plain panties, instead grabbing one of your nicer pairs, a dark red lace number that hugged you perfectly, foregoing a bra.

you tried not to think about how ridiculous this was as you slip on the clothes, taking your now semi-damp hair out of the towel and running your hands through it gently, getting out the leftover tangles. you splash water on your face, drying it off with a towel as you look in the mirror, chewing on your lip as you decide whether to put a bit of makeup on or not. you decide yes, just throwing on the slightest bit of mascara and eyeliner, adding just a bit of blush, and swiping over your lips with your cherry lip balm, pursing your lips to properly coat them.

you lean back and study yourself in the mirror, cringing at the bright red scratch marks on your neck before taking a deep breath as you consider what you're about to do. fuck it, you think, go big or go home, right?

with those words of wisdom to yourself and one last deep breath, you turn and walk of out the bathroom, and then out of the door to your room, heading into the hallway, your bare feet pad on the concrete floor as you make the short walk just a few doors down to dean's room. you stop in front of his door, taking a shaky breath before raising your hand, hesitating for a moment before knocking softly.

you hear shuffling, as if he's getting out of bed, and then the door opens and he's suddenly in front of you, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the doorway.

your breath hitches at the sight of him, your stomach flipping as you look up at him. his hair is spiked and damp, reflecting the shower he probably just took, his stubble highlighting his jaw. his plaid pajama pants are slung low on his hips, just enough to show a sliver of skin between the waistband and the hem of his black t-shirt that hugs his shoulders tightly, stretching over his chest.

dean says your name in a low voice, tilting his head as he looks down at you. you snap out of your trance, flushing slightly as you realize you were caught staring. "what're you doing here?" he asks, and doubt pools in your chest.

"i...i have a proposal," you say, nervously biting your lip as you look up at him.

dean's eyes track the movement, his jaw clenching as he flicks his gaze back up to your eyes, brows raising in question. "a proposal?"

you nod, shifting anxiously on your feet. you take a breath, forcing yourself to calm down as you smile nervously up at him. "can i come in?"

he doesn't say anything, just continues to stare at you, pushing off the doorway and stepping back, allowing you to walk by him. you step into the threshold of his room, forcing yourself to push away the nerves as you stand in front of the bed. your eyes follow him as he closes the door behind you, walking over to stand in front of you, arms still crossed over his chest as he looks down at you.

"so, what's this proposal of yours?" dean asks, the rough timbre of his voice sending a shiver up your spine. you snap out of it, meeting his gaze head on as you speak.

"okay, i was thinking about the mark, and the blood lust." you can see his jaw clench at the mention of the mark and your stomach flips, but you continue. "so i thought, what if...what if there was another way to channel that?"

something flickers in his eyes at your words, and he raises his eyebrows in curiosity. "what d'you mean?"

you swallow nervously, biting your lip as you consider what you're about to say. "before i say it, i just want you to know that if this makes you uncomfortable then i can just go and we'll pretend that this never happened and-"

dean cuts you off with a grunt of your name, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes at you. "just spit it out-"

"i want you to fuck me." the words come out of your mouth before you can stop them, both yours and dean's eyes widening at the bluntness of them.

"you want me to-"

"fuck me," you restate, deciding to just go with your forwardness. "i was thinking about what the mark makes you feel, and how it makes you turn that into blood lust, but then i thought about what if you could channel it into something else. give you some other way to let go."

dean doesn't say anything, just stands there, nostrils flaring and jaw clenched so tight your worried he's going to break something as he stares at you, eyes raking over your features as if something in them is going to tell him that you're joking.

you look away as you flush under his stare, regret and embarrassment seeping into your chest. when he still doesn't say anything, you shake your head, biting your lip as you turn to head back towards his door. "i knew this was stupid, i'm sorry-"

dean doesn't even give you the chance to finish your apology as he grabs your arm and spins you back into his chest, pulling a gasp from your lips.

"stop doing that," he growls, and when you look up into his eyes, they're so dark it makes your breath hitch. his hand that's not gripping your arm comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, tugging it lightly. "drivin' me fucking crazy."

you're too dazed by his sudden proximity to respond, the woody, leather filled scent that's so purely dean invading your senses and making you dizzy.

"let me get this straight," dean says, his voice low and slightly strained as he thumbs at your bottom lip, his eyes glued to the action. "you want me to fuck you, to get rid of the blood lust?"

you nod, lips parting automatically as he tugs at your bottom one, eyes wide as you stare up at him. "yea-yeah. it would still be letting that energy out, just in a different way," you tell him, your voice slightly breathless.

"and you want that?" he asks, eyes lingering on the way your lips brush his thumb as you speak before slipping back up to meet yours. "you want me to let go with you, sweetheart?"

you nod again, swallowing thickly as your mouth goes dry at the nickname. even though you'd heard it from his lips a thousand times before, this time it felt different, heavier, and you felt it weigh on your heart. "of course, if it'll help you-"

"no," dean cuts you off, growling your name and gripping your jaw tighter. "i'm asking you if you want this. not if you want to help me, i'm asking if you want me to fuck you, because if i won't touch you if you don't want this."

"i want this," you answer without hesitation, your voice breathy and your eyes wide, pupils blown with lust as you look up at him. "i wouldn't do this if i didn't want it."

dean groans, eyes clenching shut as if it's physically paining him to hold back, and his hand on your arm slides around your waist, tugging you flush against his chest. when he opens his eyes again, the sapphire green that wormed it's way into your heart is almost entirely swallowed by lust-blown black, the sight making your heart stutter.

"if we do this," he starts, his voice dangerously low. his hand caresses your waist before moving to your hip, gripping the flesh tightly through your clothes. "i'm not so sure 'm gonna be able to control myself. i don't wanna hurt you."

you shake your head, eyes determined as you hold his gaze, your hands coming up to his chest, fisting in his shirt and pulling him impossibly closer. "you're not gonna hurt me, dean," you whisper, pushing up on your tip-toes so that your lips are a breath away from his. "i want this, i want you to let go with me. i want you to use me."

dean just stares at you for a moment, his hand on your jaw moving to cup your cheek as his eyes bore into yours, jaw clenched and nostrils flared. as soon as his eyes flick back up to yours, something snaps in him and he surges forward, crashing his lips to yours.

you moan at the intensity of the kiss, your hands moving from his shirt to wind up into his hair, fingers tangling tightly in the still damp strands. his hands are suddenly everywhere, moving from your cheek to grip your hair, the hand on your hip slipping under your shirt to caress your bare skin, groaning against your lips when he finds that you're not wearing a bra.

your lips part instantly as you feel his tongue run along your bottom lip, moaning into his mouth as he tilts his head, running his tongue over your teeth before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. your head is spinning as your teeth clash, your hands in his hair holding him tightly to you, arching your body into his.

when you both finally remember you need air, you pull back with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your now swollen lips. dean rests his forehead against yours, his hands finding a place at your hips, gripping them tightly as he catches his breath.

"last chance to back out," he breathes, looking at you with hooded eyes that make your knees weak.

"not a chance, winchester," you whisper back, your voice equally strained as you pant softly, trying to force air into your lungs.

dean groans at your words, and without hesitation, he slams his lips back to yours, one hand fisting in your hair as the other creeps up your back, pulling your shirt up with it until he has to pull away to tug it off you, throwing it somewhere. his pupils grow impossibly larger as he takes in your bare chest, your nipples pebbling as they're exposed to the cool air. his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he's on you, surging forward and capturing one of the hardened buds in his mouth.

you yelp softly at the sudden action, the sound melting into a moan as you arch into him, hands grasping at his hair to hold him to you.

"fuck, dean─" you gasp, head falling back as his tongue swirls around your sensitive skin, his hand coming up to cup your breast that his mouth isn't currently ravishing. after he's satisfied with the job he's done, he switches, bringing his mouth to your other breast, his hand moving to cup and grope the one his mouth had just been working at, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

when you whimper his name as he bites at your bud, he pulls himself away from your chest with a pop, lips slick and eyes blown as he looks down at you. you stare up at him, eyes wide and lips parted as you pant, just taking in the sight of him, so worked up over you.

"fuck," he groans, jaw clenching as his eyes greedily rake over your flushed features, his spit-slick bottom lip caught between his teeth. your hooded eyes follow the movement, your faces close enough that you can feel his breath on your heated skin, which sends a shiver up your spine.

you've seen dean shirtless many times─patching him up, or when motel rooms got too hot, but this was different. now, his toned chest was heaving with heavy breaths, his tan skin flushed with desire just for you.

you're staring, lips parted as you pant heavily, your eyes greedily raking over every inch of skin he's offering to you. your hands twitch to reach out, to feel every ridge, dip and curve of his body, and you're too far gone to deny yourself.

you rush forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and attaching your mouth to his neck. your lips trail up his neck, sucking at a spot under his jaw that has him groaning your name in a way that makes your knees weak. you're sure you would've collapsed by now if dean's arms weren't wrapped so tightly around your waist you could feel his biceps flex against your skin as your mouth ravished his neck and up to his jaw.

you're craning your neck to reach his skin, and you're body feels so hot you're worried that it's going to burst into flames if you don't do something about it. the chorus of more, more, more chants in your head, fueling your trembling legs as the walk forward, walking dean backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

he falls to sit on the bed with a grunt, his grip never loosening around you as you follow him, crawling into his lap eagerly, moaning into his neck when his bare chest presses against yours. you arch against him as you bite and suck on his neck, lips trailing down to nip at his collarbone, leaving a path of spit behind you.

"shit─need t'feel you, baby," dean rasps, his hands moving to grip your hips tightly, grinding you down onto him. you whimper in agreement, reluctantly pulling away from his salty skin, licking your lips to savor the taste of him.

you sit yourself up on your knees in his lap, cupping his face in your hands as you tilt his head back to look up at you, your thumb tugging at his bottom lip just as he did to you before. just the sight of him sends a wave of aching desire between your legs, your panties growing wetter by the second.

dean looks absolutely wrecked. his plush lips are parted and spit-slick, swollen from your bruising kisses, the white of his teeth peeking through the brightened pink as he pants heavily. his hooded eyes are so dark, the mossy green almost completely gone as he stares up at you with such reverence it makes your pounding heart stutter in your chest.

his rough hand squeezing your hips brings your attention back to the moment as he turns his head into your touch, lips ghosting your palm, his eyes staying locked on yours.

"c'mon, sweetheart," dean groans, his voice almost breathless as he squeezes your hip again, the action almost pleading. "can't take this anymore, just need you, need t'feel that pretty pussy 'round me."

his words make you moan softly, but they snap you into action. you scramble off his lap, stepping back from the cage of his legs as you hook your fingers in the waistband of your sleep shorts, bending over towards him as you tug them down, shimmying them over your hips and thighs until they fall to the floor.

dean's eyes hungrily watch your every movement, jaw clenching tightly and a low groan escaping his lips as the delicate red lace of your panties is exposed to him.

"son of a bitch," he mutters, his voice a breathless whisper so quiet you almost miss it.

feeling spurred on by his words, you step out of your shorts, leaving them on the floor as you stand between his legs again and start to sink down, your mouth watering at the thought of tasting him. but his arm shoots out to grab yours, stopping you from dropping to your knees with a grip so tight you think it might leave bruises. your pussy clenches at the thought, the idea of looking in the mirror and seeing the mark of him on your skin, as a reminder of this chance you may never have again, nearly making your eyes roll back.

"no, no," dean practically snarls, straightening you up as his hands go to the waistband of your panties, ripping them from your body with a ferocity that makes you gasp. "next time baby, i promise, i'll let you use your fuckin' gorgeous mouth on me, but right now i need to fuck that pretty pussy until you can't even think anything but my name."

a breath leaves your lungs in a shaky gasp, the filthiness of his words making your head spin.

"okay─" is all you can manage, your voice shaking as he tugs you back into his lap, groaning when he feels your bare, hot core against his still clothed and straining cock. he doesn't hold the position long though, because in a blink of an eye, he has you flat on your back, breasts heaving as you stare up at him, your eyes wide and needy.

you part your lips to comment something about how he still has pants on, but the words catch in your throat as a moan when his fingers suddenly swipe through your weeping heat. you arch your back against the mattress, trying to push yourself up against his fingers as they circle your throbbing clit, sending sparks of pleasure behind your eyes.

"that's it, that's my girl─ fuck, you're so fuckin' pretty," dean praises, leaning over you to suck one of your peaked nipples into heated mouth.

his words make you whimper, and your hips buck up desperately into his hand, chasing the burning pleasure he's making you feel. "shit, dean, please, please─"

your whines are cut off into a moan when he plunges the same fingers that had been working your aching bud into your sopping cunt, your walls instantly tightening around his digits.

"i know, pretty girl, i know," he croons, his raspy voice muffled against the heated skin of your chest. his plush lips trailing up to your neck, his stubble scratching at your sensitive skin as he noses under your ear, teeth tugging gently at your earlobe. "jus' give me one before i fuck you, yeah? wanna feel you come around my fingers before i fuck you stupid on my cock."

you whimper in response, tossing your head back against the mattress with a moan as he drives his fingers into your heat again and again, curling them just right to hit that gummy spot deep within you that makes your toes curl.

"oh god, oh god─" you babble, eyes squeezing shut as you feel the band in your stomach tightening, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. "dean, close, m'so close─"

your words only encourage him, his teeth tugging at your ear once more before he trails them up to your jaw, resting his forehead against your cheek. he presses his lips to the burning skin there as his thumb moves to circle your clit, making you cry out under him, your hands flaying to his shoulders, nails digging into the taut skin as you buck against his hand.

"yeah? y'gonna cum, baby? gonna soak my fingers like the good girl you are?" dean coos, lips moving against your cheek, letting his teeth graze your skin. "c'mon, pretty girl, cum on my fingers so this perfect fucking pussy can take me like she needs to."

you fly over the edge with a cry of his name, eyes rolling back and spine arching as your orgasm crashes over you, stealing the air from your lungs. your legs tremble around him, and you can feel his smug smirk against your cheek, your mind too fuzzy to comprehend the words he mumbles against your skin.

his fingers don't stop, working your soaked pussy until your whining, squirming away from his touch as your eyes flutter open, mouth slack as you gasp for breath. your eyes flick up to dean as he moves his face to hover over yours, and his hand has moved but he's not saying anything, and he's just staring at you, and the reverence in his eyes makes you want to shrink, but there's nowhere for you to go.

"dean," you whisper, your voice still shaking and barely audible as your eyes search his, trying to read his expression. he still doesn't say anything, just watching you with his devastatingly beautiful eyes and making you feel like he's worshipping you with his gaze. "what's wrong? do-do you want to stop─"

"do you know," dean mumbles your name, cutting you off effectively. "how fucking beautiful you are?"

the unexpected compliment makes your breath hitch, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest you're sure he can hear it. all you can do is stare up at him, and he's so close you can count every freckle on his impossibly perfect face, the moment so intimate it makes your heart clench in your chest.

"you drive me goddamn crazy," he continues, pushing himself up to stand between your legs that hang off the edge of the bed. his hands drift down to the waistband of his pants, pushing them and his boxers down in one swift movement, his eyes never leaving yours as he kicks them away. "you make me forget everything, y'know that? you make me forget about this damn mark on my arm, you're in my head and then suddenly, all the mark wants is you."

your eyes drift down to between his legs, your mouth watering as you see his cock, hard and heavy in front of you, already red and leaking precum. when you continue to stare, dean leans over you again, grasping your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"i mean, fuck, just look at you, sweetheart," he breathes, his gaze raking over you, lingering on your heaving breasts before flicking back up to meet your eyes. "look so fucking gorgeous...all fucked out 'n stupid just from my fingers."

you only whimper in response, the sound breathless and soft as your spinning head tries to process his words. "please, dean," you rasp, your pleading eyes searching his, lifting your hips up to try and feel hi until he groans softly, eyes fluttering. "need you, please, fuck me.."

he stares at you for another moment, his jaw ticking and you can feel his cock twitch against your inner thigh. he finally moves again, reaching out and grabbing a pillow, lifting your hips and placing it under you. when he decides you're properly situated, he settles between your spread thighs, grasping one tightly in one hand while the other pumps himself slowly. he leans over you, guiding himself to your weeping entrance as your hands fly to his shoulders, grasping at the hard muscles.

he suddenly stops just before his leaking head brushed your folds, the hand on your thigh tightening as his eyes flick up to yours. "condom?" he asks, his voice strained as he forces himself to hold back.

you shake your head, biting your lip as you watch the way his pupils dilate, the sight making your aching core clench around nothing. "wanna feel you, all of you."

"fuck," he groans, his eyes slipping shut as he pumps himself faster, lining up with your aching pussy again. "baby, you're gonna be the death 'f me."

you just hum in response, your eyes glued to where he rubs his red, swollen tip through your puffy folds. with one more squeeze of your thigh, he pushes in, punching harmonic moans out of both of you. your back arches, eyes rolling back as your tight walls stretch around him, the pleasurable burn making your nails dig into his skin.

dean watches you, eyes wide and blown so dark with desire he looks almost crazed, staying still as he lets you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. "that's it, look at you, takin' me so well," he praises, rolling his hips gently to see your reaction.

"ohh shit," you moan, a gasping whimper catching in your throat when he rolls his hips again. he grasps your hips with both hands as leans over you, his bare chest pressing against yours. he stays like that, keeping still longer than he did before, and it doesn't take long until your squirming under him, whimpering softly as you grasp at his shoulders. "move, dean, please─"

as soon as the plea leaves your swollen lips, his hips snap harshly against yours, making you cry out, your eyes flying open to meet his. your mouth goes slack, lips parted in a silent scream and your brow furrowing as he pistons his hips into you, changing angles slightly until he hits that gummy spot deep in you that makes you cry out his name.

"yeah, yeah, i know, pretty girl, that's it right there, huh?" dean's voice is strained, the words a groan against your lips as he licks into your slack mouth, making you mewl under him, the sound only encouraging him to go faster. "squeezin' me so tight, shit, perfect fucking pussy was made for me, fuck─"

he pounds into you mercilessly, your tight walls tightening around his cock, sucking him in as his tip hits your cervix, making stars flash in your eyes. you swear you can feel him everywhere. his hot breath against your parted lips, calloused hands gripping your thighs and sliding up to your chest to pinch and tweak at your hardened buds, his cock making you so full you swear you can feel him in your throat.

you can feel your release creeping up on you, your hands slipping down to grip his biceps, moaning when the muscles flex under your touch. dean seems to sense that you're getting close, and he moves one hand from your chest, trailing his fingers down your torso until he reaches your clit, rubbing tight circles on the aching bud.

the sudden overwhelming pleasure makes you cry out, eyes rolling back as you claw at his skin, broken mewls and gasps leaving your lips. "dean-!"

"yeah, fuck, beautiful, say my name," he groans, dropping his head to your neck, his hips never faltering their bruising pace. "want you scream it when you cum around my cock."

"oh shit," you gasp, hands flying to his back, nails dragging down his skin as you feel yourself getting dangerously close to the edge. "close, shit, m'close dean─"

"yeah, i know, baby, can feel you squeezing me." his fingers speed up on your throbbing clit, and with just the smallest bit of added pressure, the band in you snaps. hard.

you think you scream, but your brain shuts off as your orgasm crashes through you, the pleasure mind-numbing and paralyzing. dean continues to fuck you through it, his hips faltering as he feels your walls clamp down on him with your release.

"fuck, that's it. good girl, good fucking girl," he grunts your name into your neck, his voice strained as you feel him twitch in you, his thrusts just extending your orgasm and melting into another one. "you don't know how fucking long 've wanted this. your perfect fucking pussy gripping me so tight, fuck─ you were made for me, fucking made for my cock, never gonna let you go after this, ngh, you're mine now, sweetheart. all fucking mine."

he continues to babble as his hips falter, lifting his head from your neck to crash his lips to yours, devouring your mouth with his teeth and tongue.

"gonna cum in your tight fuckin' pussy, gonna fill you up, make you feel me for days." you whimper into his mouth, the two of you more so just panting into each other's mouths rather than kissing.

"please, dean, need it, need you so bad," you moan, feeling that band tighten once more. "wanna feel you, please, please─"

"oh fuck, gonna cum," he gasps your name into your mouth, his grip on your hips tightening, and somewhere in the back of your fucked out brain you register that there are definitely going to be bruises there tomorrow. "fuck, m'gonna cum─"

he thrusts once, twice, burying his face in your neck and then his hips still, pressing his cock as deep into you as he can get as he twitches, groaning loudly as he spills into you, his release hot and heavenly in your tight walls. the feelings sends you over the edge again, a weak, broken cry leaving you as your vision practically goes white with pleasure.

you stay like that, trembling and panting softly under him, your eyes hooded and hazy, your shaking hands slipping from his shoulders and falling to his biceps weakly. for a long moment, dean doesn't move, just breathing heavily into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your sensitive skin with every breath.

eventually, he shifts his hips, moving to pull out, and the movement makes you whimper from the oversensitivity. instantly, dean pulls back from your neck, his brow furrowed as he looks down at you, his gaze filled with concern.

"shit, did i hurt you?" he asks, and you can hear the panic creeping into his tone. "i'm so sorry sweetheart, i didn't mean to─"

you cut him off with a shake of your head, forcing your eyes to focus as you look up at him, a weak, fucked-out smile forming on your lips. "you didn't hurt me, dean," you assure him, your voice raspy. "i'm fine, just sensitive."

"oh okay," he says, nodding and lets out a breath as if he'd been holding it.

he takes another moment, eyes raking over your face again, and he looks like hes't going to say something, but he bites his lip, pushing down whatever it is. slowly, he lifts himself on his arms, pushing up so he's almost sitting, squeezing your thigh comfortingly as he pulls out. you wince slightly at the movement, shivering when you feel his release dripping from your spent cunt.

he pulls away from you completely, standing up and walking over to the corner of his room and your stomach sinks as you watch him rifle through his stuff. you knew this was coming, the part where he awkwardly mumbled a thank you and you take his rejection without a word, making the walk of shame back to your own room, and you never speak of this again.

you can feel the familiar burn of tears forming behind your eyelids as you push yourself up, placing your feet on the ground. you don't look up at him as you lean over, grabbing your discarded shirt from the floor. you bite your lip anxiously as you stand up from the bed, intending to put your shirt on only to stumble and sway as your weak legs shake under you.

"woah, woah─" dean's arm comes around your waist, catching you before you can fall and you lean against him without really meaning to sighing at the warmth of his chest. "where do you think you're goin'?"

he turns you in his arms so your chest to chest with him, and you keep your eyes glued to his anti-posession tattoo, not quite ready to look him in the eyes and see the rejection. "i'll just get dressed and go back to my room─"

"hey, what? no," he interrupts, confusion lacing his words. his hand moves to cup your chin, tilting your head up until you have no choice but to look into his eyes. his brow is furrowed, and you have the sudden need to reach up and smooth the crease with your fingers. "why would you do that?"

your lips part to speak, but no words come out as the intense emotions in his eyes steal your breath.

dean says your name in a low voice, his gaze roaming over your face as his thumb stroked your cheek gently. "did you think i was gonna kick you out?"

"i...i didn't think you'd want me to stay," you admit in a breathless voice, eyes wide as you stare up at him.

he doesn't say anything for a moment, just gazing down at you as his hand raises to brush some of your hair away from your face, and if hekeeps looking at you like that you think you might catch on fire. "i meant what i said."

the words are so simple, so blunt that you don't know what he's referring to. "what are you talking about?" you ask, slightly breathless as your brow furrows in confusion.

"what i said, earlier, i meant it," dean repeats, the hand that's not cupping your chin raising to your forehead, his thumb stroking at the crease between your brows, the tenderness making your breath hitch. "i've wanted you, wanted this for so long, sweetheart."

his words stop your heart, and you look up at him with wide, shocked eyes. you can feel your pulse pounding in your chest, your shirt in your hand falling to the floor as your lips part in shock. "you have?"

"yeah," he mutters your name, both of his hands moving to cup your face now, and you subconsciously lean into his touch, making him smile softly. "i have. i'm honestly surprised you didn't notice before. even cas said i was bein' obvious."

your head reels from his confession, the words processing in your still slightly hazy mind. "you...what?" you ask, still staring up at him with wide eyes.

"i mean, hell, how could i not want you?" dean chuckles, almost to himself as he gazes down at you. "you're smart, 'nd funny, and you could kick my ass any day of the week. not to mention you're so fucking beautiful it makes me weak."

"you...you really mean that?" you ask, brow furrowing in doubt. "you're not fucking with me?"

he shakes his head, smiling down at you as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks affectionately. "you, this...it's all ive wanted for a long time."

"i..." you start, unsure of what to say as you search his expression for any hint of him lying. when you find none, a smile matching his spreads across your lips, and you lean into his touch, bringing a hand up to rest over his. "ive wanted this too. for a while, actually."

dean grins at you─a real, wide, boyish grin that lights up his ethereal features, making your heart stutter in your chest. "i guess we're both idiots then."

"i guess we are..." you agree, pushing up on your tip toes to ghost your lips over his. you hover there, just breathing him in, eyes flicking between his before you close the gap, pressing your lips softly to his.

its nothing like the kisses you shared before. in fact, it's really just the gentle press of your lips to his, savoring the way his smile feels against you, and you suddenly don't know how you've lived your whole life without kissing dean winchester like this. you certainly don't think you can live without it now that you've experienced it.

after a few savored moments, you pull away, smile staying on your lips as your eyes flutter open. your hand slides along his arm, and you feel him tense when your fingers brush over the mark.

"i trust you, dean," you whisper, curling your fingers over the raised skin, squeezing his forearm lightly. "i know you would never hurt me, and i need you to know that im not going to leave."

"but-" he starts, but you cut him off by raising your free hand to press a finger to his lips.

"no buts," you counter, shifting your hand to cup his cheek, smiling lovingly at him. "just because you think you're dammed doesn't mean you actually are. because you aren't. no matter what you think of yourself, it will never change the fact that you, dean winchester, are the good man. the best man ive ever known, and ill be damned if i let you think any less than that."

"sweetheart..."

"stop. don't fight me on this─"

"i wasn't gonna fight you─"

"yes you were, i could see it─"

he says your name, low and serious, but there's still a soft smile on his face. "you're too damn good for me."

"what did i just say─"

"just let me say this, will you?" he says, giving you a look that makes you shut your mouth, eyes locked on his. he sighs, just staring at you for a moment before he speaks again, his voice softer than you've ever heard it. "youre too good for me, i know that. you're too smart, too kind, just too damn good. but damnit, i want to be selfish so bad and keep you for myself."

you just smile at him, eyes slipping shut as you lean up again to kiss him a little deeper than the one before, but still soft nonetheless. "you have me, dean," you whisper against his lips, your eyes still closed. "you've always had me."

"i don't want to hurt you," he mumbles, and you can feel his furrowed brow as he leans his forehead against yours.

"you won't hurt me."

"you don't know that─"

"yes, i do." your tone is sharp, and it makes his eyes snap open to meet yours again. at this proximity, you can see the specks of gold that flicker in the deep emerald that makes your heart skip a beat. "we'll figure this out, dean. we'll get through this and get that damn mark off you. we'll figure this out, together."

dean smiles at that, a soft, relieved curve of his lips that makes the corners of his eyes crease. he looks at you with so much emotion and affection that you want to just crumble into him and never let him go, hide him away from the world so that it can't hurt him more than it has. "together," he repeats, his voice a hushed whisper.

you can tell that he believes you, and the thought makes pride swell in your chest. you may not know much about your fucked up lives at the moment, but the one thing you know for sure is that you were never going to let dean go through it alone. ever.

a/n, this ended up being way longer than i intended, but oh well. anyways, i can't get moc!dean out of my head, so here we are... and happy late new years!

ps, the end was written at 3 in the morning (again) so i sincerely apologize if the ending is rushed

[pamwritessometimes]

Tuesday’s Gone Masterlist

Russell Shaw x reader

Tuesday’s Gone series

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

🤍 Chapter 1

🤍 Chapter 2

🤍 Chapter 3

🤍 Chapter 4

🤍 Chapter 5

🤍 Chapter 6

🤍 Chapter 7

🤍 Chapter 8

🤍 Chapter 9

🤍 Chapter 10

Christmas Drabble

Dig That Crazy Santa Claus

Summary: Your daughter may have uncovered her dad's greatest secret ever.

[impala-dreamer]

All new stories are published to Patreon up to a full year before they appear anywhere else. $3 a month gets you access to all new one shots, series, originals, and behind the scenes info on Patreon!

Feeling Angsty or Fluffy? Please check out our ONE SHOTS right here.

The adult section is over here - SMUT SHOTS. 

SERIES are located in the back. Aisle 4.

All your suggestions from the box get posted on the bulletin board here: Tell Me Abouts

Interested in a bigger read? Check out the mag rack by the register to see my Original Works - BOOK STUFFS

Send some support and drop a penny in the Tip Jar.

(Updated Nov 2, 2023)

[dianawinchester03]

Genesis Primis: A Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Book 1 of The Old Testament Series by @dianawinchester03

Season One (Complete!)

Prologue - Enter Y/N L/N

Season 1, Episode 1 - Pilot

Season 1, Episode 2 - Wendigo

Season 1, Episode 3 - Dead in Water

Season 1, Episode 4 - Phantom Traveler

Season 1, Episode 5 - Bloody Mary

Season 1, Episode 6 - Skin

Season 1, Episode 7 - Hook Man

Season 1, Episode 8 - Bugs

Season 1, Episode 9 - Home

Season 1, Episode 10 - Asylum

Season 1, Episode 11 - Scarecrow

Season 1, Episode 12 - Faith

Season 1, Episode 13 - Route 666

Season 1, Episode 14 - Nightmare

Season 1, Episode 15 - The Benders

Season 1, Episode 16 - Shadow

Season 1, Episode 17 - Hell House

Season 1, Episode 18 - Something Wicked

Season 1, Episode 19 - Provenance

Season 1, Episode 20 - Dead Man’s Blood

Season 1, Episode 21 - Salvation

Season 1, Episode 22 - Devil’s Trap

Season 1 - Gag Reel

Season Two (Ongoing)

Season 2, Episode 1 - In My Time Of Dying

Season 2, Episode 2 - Everybody Loves A Clown

Season 2, Episode 3 - Bloodlust

Season 2, Episode 4 - Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things

Season 2, Episode 5 - Simon Said

Season 2, Episode 6 - No Exit

Season 2, Episode 7 - The Usual Suspects

Season 2, Episode 8 - Crossroad Blues

Season 2, Episode 9 - Croatoan

Season 2, Episode 10 - Hunted

Season 2, Episode 11 - Playthings

Season 2, Episode 12 - Nightshifter

Season 2, Episode 13 - Houses of the Holy

Season 2, Episode 14 - Born Under A Bad Sign

Season 2, Episode 15 - Tall Tales

Season 2, Episode 16 - Roadkill

Season 2, Episode 17 - Heart

Season 2, Episode 18 - Hollywood Babylon

Season 2, Episode 19 - Folsom Prison Blues

Season 2, Episode 20 - What Is and What Should Never Be (Part One)

Season 2, Episode 20 - What Is And What Should Never Be (Part Two)

Season 2, Episode 21 - All Hell Breaks Loose: Part 1

Season 2, Episode 22 - All Hell Breaks Loose: Part 2

Season 2 Gag Reel (coming soon)

_____________________

Also available on:

📖; ao3

📖; wattpad

_____________________

Authors Note:

I finally learnt how to do a Masterlist! Hallelujah now life will be easier for you guys. Hope you check out my book and enjoy🫶 I’ll update the list after each chapter release.

Update:

I just want to say thank you to everyone for giving my book a chance. I am very new to writing so I’m no Shakespeare lol, but I’m giving and doing my best. With all the overwhelming endless support and love I’m receiving at this very moment, it’s so much more than I can ask for and so much more than I deserve. I appreciate every single bit from the bottom of my heart🥹

Update #2:

A lot is the lore on psychism is based off of my own creation. Since not much is explained about them, I came up with my own ideas. I wanted to stay as true to canon/the show as possible but I always loved the concept of psychics and I wish it was explained more in the show. Which is why some of the powers and attributes of them are not canon to the show. Consider them my personal headcanons lol. Eventually the origins will be explained but for now, it remains a mystery;)

Xoxo

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist (Rooster x Reader)

After Bradley breaks things off with his girlfriend just days before the start of a deployment, he expects a few lonely months of nobody writing to him or waiting for his return. But the fateful arrival of a package from a class of fourth graders learning about aviation changes everything. Suddenly he has a group of inquisitive pen pals that he's more than happy to converse with, and their pretty teacher is someone he finds he wants to get to know better, too.

roosterforme masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

[cap-winter-barnes]

Glen Powell Masterlist

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

He's A Loser (ongoing) - Y/N is Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw’s little sister and he’s finally introduced her to the rest of Dagger Squad. What neither of them anticipated was them both have an instant attraction, despite Bradley’s best efforts, the inevitable still happens. Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Baby Girl

Kiss Me Lieutenant

Coming Home - coming soon

Let Me Go - coming soon

Tyler Owens

Home

Sign Your Life Away

His Beautiful Storm Chaser - coming soon

Unwritten - coming soon

Back For Good

Failure - coming soon

I'm Not Going Anywhere

[drabbles-mc]

I'm Not Sorry

Bob Floyd x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, dry humping, semi-public hookup

Inspired by This Text Post: i should be riding some nerd's thigh while he gropes all over my body & tells me i'm the girl of his dreams

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: i've been struggling to finish fics lately but i saw that text post a couple days ago, knew i wanted to write about it for Bob, and then BAM this all fell outta me tonight. unbeta'd to the max but Bob Floyd deserves to fuck so time was of the essence 😌

Top Gun Maverick Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

If you wanted to be dramatic, you could say that you and Bob had been playing a very coy game of cat and mouse for months. It was a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much. A majority of the time that you spent with each other was work-related. It was usually work related, and there was almost always other people around. The closest the two of you got to having time alone was when all of you went out together and everyone else got distracted with pool or darts or each other. So while it might’ve been months according to the calendar, it wasn’t really quite that drastic.

Still, though, you tried to make the most out of the time that the two of you got to have.

It was easy, especially at first, to get a rise out of him, to get his cheeks to flush pink, to get him tripping over his words. A seemingly accidental touch, a well-timed innuendo or wink—that’s all it really took. You didn’t say anything about it but you noticed each time his gaze would break, eyes flickering down from yours to your mouth anytime your teeth dragged along your bottom lip. It never took much with him and for a while you just chalked it up to the fact that he was sweet and shy and a little awkward, that anyone flirting with him like that would get that reaction out of him. It wasn’t until you saw him perfectly unfazed at The Hard Deck one night when a girl at the bar was all but falling into his lap that you realized it wasn’t a Bob thing. It was a you thing. Once you realized that, it was all bets off.

There had been more than one occasion when thanks to your subtly wandering hands Bob nearly spat his drink out across the bar or dropped the bottle from his hand completely. You were able to keep a straight face and play it off, and every now and then Bob was able to recover with some grace, but there had been a time or two when he’d caught a few odd looks from the rest of the crew. It was easy enough to wave them off and they’d let it drop, but the second his focus was back on you, you could tell that he was working overtime to stay on the right side of self-control. All you could do was smile and try to carry on like nothing had happened.

Truthfully, it had gotten to a point where you had almost just resigned yourself to this being what it was going to be like with you and Bob. You were trying to accept that this limbo, this knowing that you wanted him and he wanted you but neither of you really found the time to do much of anything about it, was as good as it was going to get. A never-ending chase, a game with no winners.

“Alright,” you said as you hopped off your barstool, “I gotta head out.”

“Why?” Rooster asked, sounding as though he couldn’t fathom why anyone would want or need to be anywhere else on a Friday night.

You laughed as you dug your wallet out, taking out a few bills to close out your tab and then some. “Some of us have shit to do in the morning, Bradshaw.”

He laughed and gave you a mock disbelieving look. “I don’t think so.”

Raising your eyebrows, you turned your head to face him. “You wanna close out my tab, then? Sounds like you might wanna close out my tab.”

He threw his hands up in surrender. “Forget it—see you Monday.”

You laughed a little harder at that. “That’s what I thought.”

It didn’t seem like your departure disturbed the flow too much, everyone falling back into their previous conversations as you made your way to the bar to square up your tab. You didn’t even bother looking back as you made your way to the door of the bar. By the time your feet hit the blacktop of the parking lot, you were already fishing your keys out of your bag.

Once you were a few strides away from the bar and the clamor of noise coming from inside died down, all you heard was the sound of your own footsteps, and the ocean not too far off. It was peaceful until you heard someone else’s footsteps behind you. The sound alone wouldn’t usually have been strange. Someone else deciding to leave the bar at the same time as you wasn’t a weird occurrence. What made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, however, was the fact that the footsteps were getting quicker and closer. You felt your jaw clenching, positioning your keys between your fingers the way you’d always been taught. You were only a few steps away from your car now but you still found yourself taking a deep breath, getting ready to turn around and see whoever it was that was behind you. You were about to turn and brace for impact when you heard Bob’s voice calling out your name, a little breathless, and very rushed.

Turning around and seeing him, some of the tension disappeared. You huffed, shoulders dropping. “Jesus, Bob.”

There was an apologetic smile on his face as he realized what had just happened. “Sorry.”

Shaking your head, you slipped your keys so that you were holding them in your hand normally again. You managed to laugh at the potential worst case scenario versus the reality of the situation. “Another step without saying my name and I think we both would’ve been sorry.”

He stepped in a little closer to you as he nodded towards your car. “Just wanted to walk you to your car.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you turned and started the last few steps across the lot with him. “You know, walking me out to my car is much more chivalrous and much less creepy when you tell me you’re going to do it.”

There was a smirk on his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Guess I’ll have to remember that next time.”

Silence took over the space between you, and while it was comfortable enough, you couldn’t help but to feel like there was more to it, something in the air. Hitting the unlock button on your keys, the lights of your car flashed once. You looked at Bob, then at your car, and then back to Bob. “Well,” you chuckled, “thank you for the company on this long, treacherous journey.” You reached for the handle on the driver’s door. “Hope we can do it aga—”

Bob cut your sentence short when he placed one hand on top of yours on the door handle, keeping you from opening it. Before you could jump to another sentence and ask him what he was doing, his other hand was pressing against the small of your back and pulling you into him so that he could press his lips to yours in a kiss that was intense and nervous all at once.

It lasted just long enough for you to realize what was happening and how good it felt and then he pulled away. Going off the way his eyes were wider than you’d ever seen them, he was just as surprised at himself as you were. Despite the shock all over his face, he didn’t take his hand off your back, although the one that was covering yours on the door dropped back to his side.

“Sor—I’m sorry,” he finally forced out. “I’m…” he trailed off as he looked at you, tongue darting out over his bottom lip.

Another second passed in heavy silence, and when you didn’t try to break free of him, didn’t try to push him away, he let the rest of his sentence die on the tip of his tongue as he kissed you again. You could feel the way that he was more confident this time, the warmth of his palm bleeding through the thin fabric of your tank top as he pressed you against him.

You brought your hands up so that they were resting in the crook of where his neck met his shoulder. One slid up, thumb beneath his jaw as he deepened the kiss. It was all you could do to not ball up the cotton of his t-shirt in your fist, put it in a vice grip so that he couldn’t try to get away. However once you felt the way his tongue pushed into your mouth, and the way he used his body to pin you between him and the side of the car, it became clear that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

He had one hand still on your back, one hand braced against the side of your car. It was the first time it ever seemed like he was crowding you, like he was trying to make you seem small. You didn’t mind it. With the way he was kissing you, you were fairly certain you wouldn’t mind anything.

The next time the two of you came up for air, he didn’t pull far enough away for you to really see him. You were just far enough apart for your lips not to be touching, but you could still feel the side of his nose pressed against yours. You could still feel his breath against your skin. The two of you were pressed so tight against each other that you could’ve sworn you could feel the way his heart was about to beat clean out of his chest.

“Shit,” the word fell from his lips in a whisper, followed by an equally soft laugh. His lips brushed against yours as he spoke. “I’m…I’m not sorry.”

You laughed at that, couldn’t help yourself do to anything but. “Good.” Your hand slid from his jaw to the back of his head. “You shouldn’t be.” Kissing him again, you let your teeth pull lightly at his bottom lip as you pulled away. “Only thing you need to be sorry for is taking so long.”

He smiled and shook his head. If the lighting had been better you were sure that you would see a blush all across his cheeks and down his neck. You’d have to settle for the mental image of it. “Didn’t see you chasing me down across any parking lots for a kiss before this either,” he rebutted with a chuckle.

“Touché.”

The humor died down out of his voice as he said, “You know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?”

You nodded, noses brushing against each other. The bridge of his glasses bumped against your forehead for a split second in the process. “I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”

Your bodies were pressed together so tightly that you felt it when he sucked in a quick breath. There were a million things that he wanted to say to you and he couldn’t make himself say any of them in that moment. He had his hand on your back and the taste of your kiss on his lips and yet none of the things he’d been thinking over the passing months were making it out.

The feeling of your fingers toying with the longer strands of his hair centered him enough for him to smile as he said, “At least you know that. I—oh—” He fumbled his way out of the sentence when he felt your lips on his neck.

“Bob?” you said, lips brushing against the column of his throat as you spoke.

“Y-yeah?” he stammered out, and you could feel the vibrations against your lips as he talked.

Taking one hand off of him, you reached and pulled on the handle to the back door of your car. You kissed him again, pushing both of you off the side of the car in the process. “Get in the car.”

He was far enough away that you could see the shocked look on his face. “What?”

You placed your hands on his sides, switching your positions so that he was closer to the car than you. “Car.” You kissed him. “Back seat.” Another kiss. “Now.”

“Now?” He looked around the parking lot. Full of cars but completely devoid of people. “Here?”

You laughed as you pushed him farther back, causing him to duck slightly as he went backwards into the car. “Preferably, yeah.”

“I don’t—whoa,” he fell back across your back seat, managing to brace himself on his forearms.

You shimmied in after him. Pulling the door shut behind you, you climbed on top of him, one leg between his, the other pinned between the outside of his leg and the back seat. It was close quarters, but you weren’t exactly looking to put any distance between the two of you.

Your hands landed on his shoulders, fingers curling over the curve of them as you leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Whatever reservations he’d had about your current location disappeared almost immediately once your lips caught his. His hands were on your hips for a moment. You could feel the way he tightened his grip even through the denim of your shorts. Your lips and his met over and over, each reconnection making him a little bolder.

He managed to get his thoughts together just enough to pry one hand from your hip so that he could reach up and take his glasses off. He all but tossed them up and onto the center console between the driver and passenger seats. You were smiling and about to make a comment about the action but you didn’t get the chance. He brought his hand back to you, starting off on the soft, exposed skin of your thigh. His touch was soft at first, but quickly started to change. His fingers dragged up your leg before slipping past the bottom hem of your shorts.

Your pleased gasp of surprise when you felt the pads of his fingertips over the lace of your panties was quickly smothered as he pulled your lips back to his again. His grip on your ass tightened, pushing you down harder onto his thigh and causing you to moan into his mouth.

For a split second you couldn’t believe it. All this time and Bob hadn’t been able to make a move, couldn’t believe that you wanted to fool around in the back seat of your car—that same man was now grinding you down against his thigh in a way that had you wet and clenching around nothing.

You broke the kiss to catch your breath, muttering out a quiet, needy, “Fuck,” as you continued to move along the top of his leg.

When you pulled back enough to see him, you saw the way that he was watching the movement of your hips. He didn’t take his eyes off of you, felt like he physically couldn’t tear himself away from the sight. His hold on you loosened as you found your own rhythm. A tiny whimper slipped past your lips, the sound involuntary as you savored the friction. The sound made his gaze snap back up to your face, and when he saw the want and desperation etched into your expression he thought that he was going to melt into a puddle right there on your back seat. What a way to go.

He pulled you back down into another kiss, your bodies flush practically from head to toe. Even as you continued to move against his thigh, you could feel the way he was shifting slightly, trying to get in the most comfortable position as he felt himself growing more and more aroused with each passing second. He didn’t let you pull away, though, didn’t let you put any distance between you. With you pinning his leg to the seat, Bob let his hands wander up underneath he fabric of your shirt. Suddenly it was like you felt his hands everywhere—your back, your sides, your chest. He slipped them down past the waistband of your shorts and underwear, fingers kneading the flesh of your ass in a way that with everything else had your legs starting to shake.

Bob could feel it, too. He could feel the increased sense of urgency in your movements, the way you were chasing after something and you almost had it. He was half-expecting to be woken up and find out that this was all just a dream. But not even his dreams had been this good, felt this good.

He dragged his lips off of yours, trailing them along your jaw instead. He left a string of sloppy, desperate kisses in his wake until his lips were beside your ear. One of his hands crept up your back, palm and fingertips scorching your skin in the best way.

“I meant it, you know,” his whisper came out lower than you’d ever heard, a tiny hint of a tremor to it, “when I said I’ve been wanting this—you.” He kissed below your ear, feeling the shaky breath you let out at that, at his words. “But even when I thought about it,” he kissed your jaw, “or dreamed about you,” he kissed your neck, “it wasn’t—shit—it wasn’t anything compared to this.”

Fighting the urge to bury yourself into the crook of his neck at his words, you pulled your head back. You cupped his jaw roughly in one hand and crashed your lips against his. His arms slithered around you and wrapped you tightly against him. He could still feel the slight shake in your legs.

“Bob—”

He stole another quick kiss. “I’d wait all over again for this.”

You could hear it in his voice how genuine he was being. You tried not to let yourself get distracted by his still-wandering hands, or his erection that you could still feel through his jeans. You tried to start your sentence again. “Bob, I—”

“Let me—”

“Come home with me,” you cut him off right back this time, deciding to just get to the point of what you were trying to say.

Confusion flashed across his face for a quick moment. “What?”

“Come back to my place.”

“I thought—”

“I wanna do this.” You sat up enough so that you could drag your fingertips down over his chest and stomach, even doing it over the fabric of his shirt had him starting to squirm with want. “But I’d rather do it somewhere where I don’t have to worry about smacking my head off the ceiling if I sit up all the way.”

The statement got both of you to laugh. “That’s fair.” He paused, a smirk on his face as he said, “Car was your idea, though.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m feeling a little impatient. Sue me.”

He pulled you into another kiss, one that every time you thought it was over he’d pull you back in all over again. As much as you wanted to get him back to your apartment and laid out on your bed, you also knew that you’d spend as much time as he wanted to doing exactly what you were doing right now. Anything to keep him this close now that you had him there.

When he released you from the kiss, he looked up at you with that same smile, that same slightly dazed look to in his eyes. Like he couldn’t believe this was happening. You couldn’t really believe it either. You couldn’t believe that any of it was happening at all, but you were also having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that Bob Floyd, the same man who could barely make eye contact with you at the bar the first time you all went out together, was the same man who looked like he was about to try and strategize how to best make use of your back seat so he wouldn’t have to wait to get back to your apartment.

“I live less than ten minutes from here,” you said, already knowing what he was going to say.

His hands moved around to the front of you, fingers just barely curled over into the front of your waistband. You pretended not to notice the way he was toying with the button of your shorts. “Thought you had things to do tomorrow?”

You laughed, leaning in and kissing him. “I still do. Now they’re just,” you ran your hand lightly over the crotch of his jeans, enough pressure to get him to buck into you, “different things.” You giggled quietly at the purposeful breath he sucked in. Reaching over, you grabbed his glasses for him. “C’mon. You can ride shotgun.”

He propped himself up by his forearms again as you untangled yourself from him. “What if—”

You couldn’t help but to laugh as you stopped his sentence short. “Little late to get shy now.”

He smiled, face starting to turn red. “Right.”

The only thing that passed between the two of you were knowing looks and soft laughter as you scrambled out and into the front seats of the car. It wasn’t until you were pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road that you spoke up again, trying not to be too distracted by Bob’s hand creeping higher and higher up on your thigh.

“So,” you looked over at him for a second before returning your attention to the road, “you dreamt about me?”

His head dropped back against the headrest and you couldn’t help but to laugh at his faux exasperation. He gave your thigh a squeeze. You were expecting a joke, one of the witty little comebacks that he had a way of finding in the right moments, but instead he let himself be serious as he said, “Yeah, I did.”

The three words hung in the air between you, and you felt the butterflies that you’d been too busy to feel before in the heat and the rush of everything else. You could feel the way that Bob was looking at you while you looked at the road.

“How much longer?” he asked.

You laughed, sparing him a glance. “Six minutes, tops.”

He nodded, fingertips grazing up and down your thigh, goosebumps breaking out over your skin despite how warm your car was with its still-fogged-up windows. “Six minutes.”

[roosterforme]

Mr. Right Now masterlist (Hangman x Reader)

When Jake picks your ID up from the floor at the Hard Deck, he has no expectations that he's about to be in for a wild ride. But when he learns that you're looking for Rooster and why you're at the bar in the first place, he starts to feel more possessive than he should. You're young and stubborn and about to get yourself into trouble. Maybe he would prefer if you got into it with him instead. "It's a bad idea," he said, and then your lips were on his.

roosterforme masterlist

General series warnings: 18+, smut, loss of virginity, age gap, language. Check each chapter for specific warnings.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Headcanons

[deakyjoe]

Pattern Breaker

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader (afab)

Category: smut, fluff, friends to lovers, idiots in love

Summary: A love confession turns to more once Bob knows you’re interested.

Warnings: 18+, smut (!!), protected p in v sex, f receiving oral (pussy eating king), vaginal fingering, grinding/dry humping, handjob, kissing, groping, scratching/marking, Bob fucks, love confessions, fluff, talks of bad dates, reader described as having hair and being shorter than Bob (but nothing else), swearing/cursing - let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 7.1k (it kinda ran away from me)

A/N: My humble contribution to the Bob Fucks Agenda 🫡

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Bob Floyd was head over heels in love with you.

Yet he had no idea what series of mistakes had landed him here. In the Hard Deck. With you. Sat next to him. In a tight booth. Your thigh pressed up against his. Tracing patterns with the tip of your finger on the back of his hand. Many would argue that this didn't seem like a bad thing. Why would something so intimate with someone he was in love with be a mistake? Well, the issue was that you were doing it in a totally platonic way.

You were doing it mindlessly too, as you engaged in idle conversation with Phoenix opposite you, which almost made it worse. Bob Floyd's brain was whirring at a million miles per second over something you were doing without even thinking about it. It took every ounce of self restraint to stop himself from moving. Closer to you or further away, he didn't know. But he tried to stay still. So very still. Just so you'd keep doing it.

He was also desperately trying to pay attention to the story you were telling Phoenix, about the latest bad first date you'd been on. It appeared to be a regular thing with you. A string of first dates where you knew before you'd even ordered the entrées that they wouldn't be the right guy for you. And you always had valid reasons, at least in Bob's opinion.

"He told me he doesn't like sunsets." You groaned. "Like, who doesn't like sunsets?"

Bob personally loved sunsets.

Phoenix frowned at you. "Did he give a reason why?"

Bob imagined that Phoenix was feeling a little guilty about the whole thing. After all, she was the one who'd set you up with this guy. But he was thankful for it. He didn't know what he'd do with himself when you finally managed to find the right guy and it wasn't him.

"Something about the day ending and having a mindset about being on the grind I think, I don't know." You sighed, pausing your finger's movement against the back of Bob's hand for a moment before carrying on. He almost had a heart attack when you pressed your cheek into his shoulder and started leaning against him as well.

"Sorry it didn't work out. I can find you another guy maybe, umm..." Phoenix trailed off with a thoughtful hum.

But you waved her off. "No, it's okay. I think I'm done with blind dates for now."

Bob's head snapped towards you. Oh?

"If you're sure." Phoenix started to rise from the table, pressing her hands into the wooded surface. "I think I'm gonna call it a night. See you two tomorrow."

"Goodnight, see you tomorrow." You smiled at her, nudging Bob with your elbow when he stayed silent.

He flinched away from you. "Ow! What? Oh. Yeah, goodnight."

Phoenix's eyes flicked between the two of you, an amused huff leaving her mouth before she gave you both a mock salute and left the bar.

There was a silence between the two of you for a moment as you relaxed against Bob's shoulder a little more.

"What about you? Ready to call it a night?" You asked, turning to rest your chin on his bicep so you could look up at his face.

He glanced at you briefly, turning away again when he realised how close your faces were in that position and cleared his throat. "No, I'm good here for a little longer. If you are?"

You nodded and sat up, extracting yourself from his touch completely. Bob almost sobbed at the loss of contact.

"Yeah, I'm good." You paused to take him in, how he wasn't looking directly at you. He did that sometimes. You always figured he was just a little awkward about eye contact. Which was a shame considering his eyes were your favourite shade of blue.

Bob did flicker his eyes towards you then, wondering why you were staring at him silently. "Are you okay?"

You shrugged. "I kinda wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah?" He turned to face you properly, knees angled towards you to show that you had his full attention. "What about?"

You looked at him for a few seconds too long, enough to make him anxious and you think that maybe you'd given something away with your eyes. "You know how when we met we just clicked?"

Bob was surprised at that question. But he knew exactly what you meant. So he nodded. "Yeah."

You scrunched your nose and looked away from him for a second. "Well, I'm not clicking with any of these guys I'm going on blind dates with."

He knew that, you’d said as much. So he really didn't know where you were going with this. "Okay...”

"I just wish it was as easy as it was with you. Like we just work together so perfectly, I don't even feel like I'm trying with you."

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking sideways at you. "Uh-"

Your eyes widened and you were quick to clarify, hands held up in apology. "And not like I don't put any effort into it with you but just like I don't feel as if I'm constantly trying to make it work, y'know?"

He nodded again. "Sure."

You sighed frustratedly. "Do you get what I'm trying to say here, Bob?"

"Not really." He shook his head and gave a weak, apologetic smile.

You chuckled. "I'm trying to say that I've never clicked with a guy like I have with you."

"Right." He straightened up.

"But we're just friends." You said slowly.

He hesitated. "Mhm."

You squinted at him. "To cut it short I'm trying to say that I think I'm in love with you."

Bob could have fallen out of his seat.

"Oh!"

Now, that caught him really off guard.

"Well, I'm trying to figure out my feelings for you. Because they're certainly more than friendly!" You laughed quietly. "Which isn't really fair. To me or to you. But it's gotta be done because I'm sick of not clicking with men and being on dates where I'm just constantly thinking of how much easier it would be if I were sat across from you instead."

Bob ignored most of your rambling, fixating on one little statement. "Why's it not fair?"

Your face crumpled momentarily. "It's going to make it awkward for you if I am in fact in love with you. And it's unfair for me because I might be in love with a guy who only views me platonically."

Bob looked at you for a moment, eyes wide and almost pleading, and uttered your name softly.

You frowned. "What?"

He gave you a meaningful look.

"You do view me platonically, right?" You leant backwards. "Right?"

He glanced away from you before looking back, giving a short and sharp shake of his head. No.

The world shook around you.

"But- but you never made a move. I thought that you..." You trailed off into distressed thought.

"Oh, I made moves. Just not very obvious ones apparently." He cleared his throat with a quick cough, scrunching his face momentarily in embarrassment.

"Why did you never just say?"

"I guessed that you weren't interested since you never seemed to reciprocate my- my moves." He scratched at the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed at the thought of his moves.

"But I'm all over you!" You exclaimed. "I'm so touchy!"

He froze and turned to you stiffly. "I thought you were just like that. With everyone!"

"Have you ever seen me touch another human being half as much as I touch you?" You said monotonously.

"Well..." He thought about it. He hadn't. You gave hugs, sure. But you certainly didn't stand with your head resting on anyone's shoulder, arms wrapped around their bicep like you did with him. You didn't sit next to anyone, legs resting over their thighs, like you did with him. You definitely didn't trace patterns on the back of anyone's hand like you had been with him earlier.

You let him think about it for a few moments before interrupting his thoughts. "You didn't answer my question. Why didn't you just say?"

Bob looked deep into your eyes, recognising the look of regret he could feel within himself. "By the time I had the courage to... the friendship was already solidified. And I thought it would ruin it."

"Oh, Bob." You smiled widely at him. "You should've said something. I had a huge crush on you when we first met."

Have a huge crush. Have.

He perked up slightly. "You did?"

No. Do.

"Yeah! I buried it after a while because I figured you weren't interested. And now I'm realising that I'm probably in love with you anyway." You found it almost funny how the two of you seemed to be in the exact same situation and yet had no idea how the other was feeling.

He decided to be honest. "It would certainly brighten my day if you were."

You had a thought suddenly. "Walk me home?"

Bob felt a sense of whiplash from the rapid change in topic. But didn't question it. "O-okay."

You grinned at him and motioned for him to get up, following him out of the booth and grabbing his hand once you were stood next to him. Not having to worry about closing out a tab with Penny since you'd been paying for drinks each time you ordered, you didn't hesitate in dragging him behind you out the back door of the Hard Deck and onto the beach.

You took a glimpse at Bob next to you, finding him already watching you. "Figured we could do the moonlit beach walk on the way back to my place."

He just nodded, not missing the way you were still grasping onto his hand as the two of you started walking in the direction of your home. The moonlight beach walk wasn't an uncommon occurrence between the two of you. You'd done it countless times before, in fact. It was just a nice thing to do that happened to involve some nice views that you both enjoyed. It just felt different this time, Bob thought to himself.

He had to ask. "Your last blind date, did he really not like sunsets?"

You looked at him, delighted by the seemingly random question. "Yeah. How off-putting is that?!"

"Very." Bob mumbled. "Y'know... I really like sunsets."

Ah, you saw what he was getting at.

"I know." You chirped. "I'll never forget the sunset on the day we met when you explained that the reason they're so colourful is because of the way the light scatters through the atmosphere. It was very purple that night."

His eyebrows shot up. He'd forgotten he'd told you that. But you were right. It had been very purple. He'd watched you take about thirty photographs of the sky. And knew then that he was in trouble.

The rest of the walk back to your place was quiet, a few passing comments made between the two of you as you pointed out a cute dog and Bob showed you where new flowers were beginning to blossom on a tree you regularly saw. Your hands stayed intertwined the whole time, swinging gently between your bodies.

It was easy. Just how it should be.

Silence shrouded the two of you as you approached your front door, wondering what was supposed to come next. Bob was still hung up on your sudden abandonment of your conversation back at the Hard Deck as you stopped at your door. Why had you dropped it?

The question escaped him as you suddenly tugged him a lot closer, so your chests almost touched, and lowered your voice.

"Come inside."

It wasn't proposed as a question, or even a request, but as more of a statement. Like you were telling him that he should follow you into your home to find out what happens next. Because of this, Bob could only reply with one thing.

"Okay."

There was no turning back now.

You beamed at him and rushed to unlock your door, flicking on a light switch once it was open and ushering him in behind you. Bob had been to your place countless times before, even crashed on your couch once or twice after nights there had run a little too long, but this time felt different. Just like the walk on the beach had.

He supposed it was because of what the two of you confessed earlier that night. But he still couldn't shake the thoughts about the fact that the conversation hadn't carried on to a point where he knew what was going to happen next between the two of you. Bob wanted answers. And he guessed that they were hidden in the depths of your home.

You guided him to your kitchen, offered him a drink which he politely declined, and stopped suddenly in the middle of the room to turn on your heel and look at him.

"Do you know why I asked you back here?"

He stilled a few paces in front of you. "Honestly? No."

You smiled at that. "Because I decided that I am."

Bob was even more confused. "Am what?"

You barked out a laugh like you suddenly realised you'd left out half of your sentence and that what you'd said had made no coherent sense. "In love with you. Absolutely head over heels. One hundred per cent.”

He said nothing in reply, sensing that you had more you wanted to say. He was right.

"And I wanted to be able to explore that possibility for us without prying eyes. In the privacy of my home." You huffed, slightly frustrated. Bob took a single step towards you. "I don't- I don't know how to say this."

He closed the gap, hands resting on your arms to reassure you. You'd never struggled to tell him anything and he certainly didn't want that to start now. "It's me. You can say anything to me. You know that. It's okay."

When you met his gaze again, your eyes were slightly glassy with tears. But you blinked them away. They were angry tears at yourself for taking this long to get to this point with him. It should've happened so much sooner.

Your eyes flickered to his lips. Bob knew what that meant, he was feeling it himself, but wanted you to say it.

Letting out a slightly shaky laugh, you composed yourself. "You might need to let me spiral and talk for a minute."

He smiled softly, surprised he wasn't doing his own spiralling and talking in this situation. "That's okay."

You nodded and sighed. "Okay, so. I don't want things to change between us. Well, I do. But, like, not everything. I still want us to be us. I still want to be able to tell you everything and have easy conversations and just go for walks on the beach and talk about meaningless things and have you explain stuff to me that you think I'll find interesting and sit close to each other just because we can not because we have to."

You stopped for breath and Bob felt like he was having to restrain his heart from bursting out of his chest.

"We'll still just be me and you and things will be easy between us. Like they always have been. But now... instead of sleeping on my couch after late nights, you'll- you'll sleep in my bed. And we'll kiss and, god, have a lot of sex I hope."

Bob chuckled at that and you joined him, happy to see that he wasn't freaking out at everything you were saying.

"We'll still be me and you but just... evolved. Right?"

Bob had started the evening knowing he was head over heels in love with you. He couldn't believe the night was ending with that love somehow growing even more, combining with yours to create some force that defied the laws of nature. The room was practically swimming in it, he could feel it prickling at the surface of his skin and taste it on the top of his tongue.

He nodded firmly at you. "Me and you but evolved."

You visibly relaxed under his hands and smiled giddily up at him. "Great, can you kiss me now?"

You didn't have to ask Bob twice.

The kiss started off sweet, almost innocent. A few, slightly open mouthed, pecks as the two of you giggled against each other. It was something new for the two of you. So even thought it felt right, it was still new territory to explore. But it didn't take long for it to take a turn. As soon as you opened your mouth fully to lick gently against Bob's lips, it was like something in him snapped.

An arm snaked around your waist and tugged you flush against him, chest to chest, and his other hand tangled in the back of your hair. His nose crammed into your cheek, his glasses falling slightly askew, as he licked into your mouth hotly with his head angled down to meet you halfway.

Your head whirled with the thought that he was good at this. Bob Floyd was an extraordinarily good kisser. Why hadn't you done this sooner?

You let out soft moans to encourage him despite him not even seeming shy about the idea anymore. In fact, Bob had no sense of restraint left in him. He'd waited so long for this, for you. And now he was lost in the feeling of your skin against his and the sounds you were making in reply to what he was doing. Which is why he let his hands drift across you more, not anchoring his touch to any specific place.

You felt like you were on fire, no time to breathe as breaks for oxygen were mere fractions of a second long. You'd never imagined him being capable of making you feel like this so quickly. Your lower abdomen burning with desire and your panties already practically soaked through. And he hadn't even touched you intimately yet. You could only hope that you were having half the same effect on him.

Bob's hands lowered themselves slowly, tracing along your ribcage, circling your waist, gripping at your hips, before he tentatively let them rest on your ass. You hummed in motivating appreciation and pushed yourself up even more to kiss him impossibly harder. He took that as a good sign, fingers digging into the flesh beneath them and rocking your pelvis towards his. Where you found that he was hard.

A noise rumbled in your chest, leaking out as a high pitched whine directly into his mouth.

Bob pulled away with a slight look of concern in his eyes which now held almost no trace of the blue shade you'd come to adore, pupils blown wide enough to engulf his irises. "Is this too much? We can slow down."

You shook your head, slowing down being the last thing you wanted. "No, I'm just surprised that you're so... handsy. I always thought you were a gentleman."

"Oh." He blushed a deep red, the colour reaching the tips of his ears. "I'm just eager, I guess. We can wait. I mean, I can wait. If it's too much."

You leaned back in closer to him, lips brushing across his. "Don't you think we've waited long enough?"

He did.

Somehow the second round of kissing was even more searing, almost consuming, than the first. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand gripping tightly onto his hair and tugging occasionally. Bob didn't let up squeezing at your ass after he'd realised that the sound you'd made previously was one of pleasure and not pain, rocking your hips into his a couple times more for good measure.

When his lips moved to trail a line of kisses down your jawline and onto your neck, your eyes practically rolled back into your head. This was too good to be true. You were stood in your kitchen, at almost midnight, and Bob was sucking a hickey into your neck. How was this even real?

You realised that if you didn't move soon then the two of you were going to end up fucking on the kitchen floor. And whilst you weren't totally against the idea, you figured you should at least offer him the comfort of a bed for your first time together.

"Bedroom, Floyd. Now." You gasped, grasping his hair to pull him away from your neck. But when you got a good look at him, you almost abandoned the idea completely. His hair was ruffled from where you'd been pulling at it, his glasses sat crookedly on his nose, his face was flushed a rosy pink, his lips were swollen and kiss bitten, and his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them. He was a sight to behold.

You snapped back to reality, fixed his glasses so they sat correctly on his face, clenched your legs together, and grabbed a fistful of his shirt to tug him behind you towards your bedroom. Bob, of course, had no complaints about this and followed you very happily. After watching you kick off your shoes as the both of you scurried down your hallway, he did the same. Not many thoughts were occurring in his brain at that moment, not any clean ones anyway, but one thing was certain as he looked at you: he'd never wanted someone more.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind him and before he had the chance to take in any of his surroundings he was pressed up against it and your lips were on his again, your hands desperately clutching at the bottom of his shirt to untuck it from his pants.

"Why- do- you- always- wear- your- uniform?" The question was asked between fiery kisses. Not that you were complaining. You loved to see him in his uniform. But he always looked so formal.

Bob waited until you were too distracted trying to unbuckle his belt to kiss him so he could get his answer out fully. "You once told me I look handsome in it."

You paused and tilted your head up to look at him. Taking in his open expression, you could tell that he was being honest. "God, I fucking love that you listen to me."

He laughed momentarily before his jaw snapped shut and he swallowed thickly as you began fumbling with his belt buckle again. "Your hands are shaking."

The observation was simple but had you freezing anyway. "Care to help a girl out then?"

Bob could tell that you were getting anxious, nerves suddenly overruling the initial excitement and lust. He could understand. He was currently running on the high of you dragging him to your bedroom. Maybe you also needed something like that to keep you going.

He glanced over your shoulder towards your bed and nodded towards it. "Lie down."

Bob watched as the fire quickly re-ignited in your eyes and you did as you were told, bouncing on the mattress as you sprawled yourself across it. Undoing his belt completely, he took a few steps towards you until he stood between your open legs.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to watch him eagerly. The mattress dipped as he knelt on it and crawled across it until he was hovering over you.

You hummed quietly, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. "Hmm, I like this position."

He leaned in close, as if going to kiss you. "I thought you might."

His voice was low, rumbling deep in his chest. It was a tone you'd only had the privilege of hearing a few times before. During late nights when he was tired and could barely keep his eyes open as you continued to talk his ears off with meaningless nonsense but did so anyway just so he could listen to you talk. When he'd held you close to him during crowded nights at the Hard Deck and spoken directly into your ear so you could hear him over the sounds flooding the place. Moments that were intimate between you both but you'd been too oblivious to see as more than platonic.

It was the voice that Bob Floyd used to flirt with you.

You pulled back, wide eyed, to get a good look at him. "Oh, my god. You have made moves."

His brows scrunch for a moment, a confused laugh bubbling out of him. "Yeah, I said so earlier."

"I know but that voice." You poked his chest accusingly. "It's your flirty, sultry, bedroom voice! You've used it on me before!"

"It's not my-" He paused, thinking about it for a second, and then shrugged. "Oh, yeah. Maybe you're right."

"I like it, it's hot. Do it again." You giggled when he rolled his eyes, reaching your hands up to start unfastening the buttons on his shirt.

"And what would you like me to say?" His voice dipped back down to the low tone and you had to suppress a shiver.

"Anything. I just like hearing you talk." You reached the last button and helped him slide the shirt from his shoulders, revealing a white undershirt that you knew always resided underneath. The brown uniform shirt was discarded somewhere on your bedroom floor.

"How about how I think it's time for you to start removing some clothes? Since my shirt's off and my belt is unbuckled." His raised a finger to trace along the neckline of your t-shirt.

You whined. "Not fair. You're not even showing any skin yet. If I take my shirt off then all I've got is a bra on underneath."

Bob chuckled, low voice lost for a moment. "Is my white t-shirt not the equivalent of your bra?"

You pondered it for a moment. Maybe he was right. "Depends if you like the way my tits look in this bra as much as I like the way your biceps look in that white shirt."

He took a quick glance at his arms which were caging you into the bed, hand planted on either side of your head. "My biceps, huh?"

"A weakness of mine, I admit." You shrugged and sat up, pushing at his chest to give you some room. "Have to stop myself from biting them when I rest my head on your shoulder."

"For the record, I'd totally let you."

With a laugh you took Bob's hands in yours and guided them to the hem of your shirt, giving him a nod of confirmation. "You would now but let's be honest, it would've been a little unusual of me to just suddenly bite you before."

He tried desperately to keep eye contact with you as he pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside. "Maybe, but I wouldn't have said a word of complaint."

"I'll remember that for the future." You paused and noticed his frozen stare. "You're allowed to look, y'know?"

He knew but he was holding himself back with the knowledge that he'd probably go feral once he saw you without a shirt on. Just below his eye line he could tell that the bra you were wearing was lacy and pretty much see-through. He took a deep breath before looking properly and let out a very low groan when he saw that your nipples were hard and very visible through the fabric.

Bob's dick twitched in his pants at the sight. He feared he wouldn't last very long once the two of you actually got going.

You leant back on your hands and watched him look over you. It was kind of entertaining and certainly a confidence booster for you. "Like what you see?"

His eyes met yours again. "Shut up. You know I fucking do."

That sent a ripple of heat through you. Despite knowing him for so long, you'd never heard Bob curse. He'd let out the occasional damn at big inconveniences but never anything more than that. You figured it was part of him being such a gentleman and the fact that he loved to point out that his mother raised him right.

"Careful, Floyd. That dirty mouth will get you in trouble." You flattened your back onto the bed again, pulling him down on top of you by a handful of his shirt.

"If by trouble you mean with you underneath me then I'm willing to take that risk." His voice somehow got lower, a raspy edge being added to it. It's like he knew exactly how to break you.

You grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him down to kiss you again, you'd gone too long without feeling his mouth on yours, and you revelled in the grunt he let out against your lips.

This was a whole new side to Bob that you were seeing. And you were loving it. Somehow it was still so easy, the two of you continuing to just bounce off of each other and the sexual chemistry was luckily just naturally there as well. You thought it may have been slightly awkward between you but you'd never felt so confident about sleeping with someone in your life.

Bob realised he should probably check something before the two of you got any further so pulled away momentarily. "Do you have a condom?"

"Oh, yeah! Wait, hang on-" You slid away from him, hanging over the edge of the bed to rifle through a drawer in your nightstand. Producing a small box, you waved it triumphantly at him.

"Hoping those blind dates were going to be successful, huh?" He teased, reaching out to grab your waist to drag you back underneath him. He was relieved you had the box but if you didn't then he knew it wouldn't have stopped him from doing other things to you until you were able to buy some condoms.

Your jaw dropped. "No! Just never underprepared."

"I applaud your readiness. I'm sure if the apocalypse hits then we'll be thankful for your supply of condoms."

"If the apocalypse hits then we'll be tasked with repopulating the Earth and have to have lots of unprotected sex to do so." You bit back playfully, glad to see when his eyes fluttered shut momentarily at the mention of doing it raw. "Oh, you like that thought, huh?"

"You caught me. Guilty." He raised a hand in surrender before gesturing at you. "Now let's get naked so we can have lots of protected sex."

You had to fight back a surge of laughter but let a few giggles escape when you found Bob looking at you with an amused look of his own. You were glad that the two of you were still able to joke and be you even in an intimate moment like this, relieved that it didn't suddenly become serious.

Clothes were discarded and quick kisses were exchanged as the two of you inched closer and closer to where you both really wanted to be. After your bra had been unclasped and thrown into the void with every other item of clothing, and Bob had thoroughly explored your chest with both his hands and mouth, you fell back onto the bed with him on top of you for another round of kissing. It's like the two of you couldn't keep your lips separated for longer than necessary.

His bare chest pressed into yours, a sheen of sweat gliding between you, as he rocked his hips against you, grinding his hard length into your clothed pussy.

If you'd told Bob at the beginning of the evening that this was how his night would end then he would've laughed and told you he didn't believe you. But now that he was here, he couldn't have imagined it any other way. That's what made him realise that enough was enough.

He suddenly broke the kiss and sat up again, kneeling in between your legs. Hooking two fingers into the waistband of your panties, he made eye contact with you. "May I?"

You nodded vigorously.

Bob shook his head. "Words."

You could've orgasmed right there and then. "Yes, you can."

He took that answer and started to slide your panties down your legs slowly, helping you to lift your hips to get them off easier. Once they reached your ankles he plucked them off and cast them aside, planting a quick kiss on your calf before lowering your legs either side of him again.

You reached for the condoms to pass them to him, aware that you were only the one step of removing his underwear away before he'd finally be inside you.

But he pushed your hand aside, choosing instead to slide his palms down your thighs. "In a minute."

"We haven't got forever, y'know. Get on it." You laughed, curious as to what he was doing.

"Gotta get you ready first." He mumbled, pushing your legs apart so he could see better.

Oh? "I can assure you that I'm plenty ready and wet and would like your dick inside me now please."

"So polite." He hummed with a smile on his face. "And I can see how wet you are. Just gotta make sure that you're relaxed enough to take me."

"Somebody's confident about their size, huh?"

He laughed as he shook his head. "Would you rather me not go down on you?"

As much as you were teasing him not to, you very much wanted him to. "Fine, if you insist." You replied with a sigh and an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

Bob almost chuckled, but when he looked up into your eyes again he was met with an angelic vision. You were stretched out on the bed, naked, for him. All for him. He reminded himself to thank the universe at some point. But, before that, he needed to thank you by making you come.

He shuffled back on the bed, moving your legs over his shoulders as he did so, and laid flat on his stomach before you. And got to work.

Bob practically devoured you.

You writhed underneath his grasp, one of his arms thrown across your stomach to keep you in place, as he licked and sucked at you. Your clit throbbed against his tongue as he flicked it from side to side over the sensitive spot. One of your hands flew to tangle in his hair as your legs trembled on either side of his head.

"Oh- oh, my god." You panted, chest heaving with laboured breaths. You looked down at him to see that his glasses had fogged up. You let out a slightly strangled laugh at him as he decided to slide a finger into you at that moment.

"Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck." You gasped and collapsed back onto the pillows.

Bob moaned into you and you let out a cry at the feeling of the vibrations running through you. His finger pumped in and out of you. Slowly at first before he increased the pace and then, once you were somehow even wetter, introduced a second finger.

And with two of his fingers inside of you, bending slightly to hit that sweet spot inside of you, along with his tongue making tight little circles on your clit, it didn't take long for the pressure to build in your lower abdomen and then suddenly explode through you. Your body shook with pleasure, a tidal wave of profanity and primal noises escaping your mouth.

Bob gave you no time to rest though, surging up your body and kissing you again, giving you a taste of yourself which had you moaning into his mouth. When he pulled back again, you smiled. His glasses were still foggy.

"Can you even see through these?" You asked, reaching up to take them off of him. Wiping gently at the lenses with your bedsheets, you awaited an answer.

"Not really. I usually take them off for this kind of thing. But I forgot. In the excitement." He looked away from you, embarrassed. Funny how he could still be shy despite having just eaten you out like no one else had before.

You hummed quietly, taking his face in your hands to direct him to kiss you again after you'd placed his glasses down on your nightstand as you wrapped your legs around the backs of his and bucked your hips up towards him. "Are we going to do something about you now? Because I know you've been hard since we first kissed."

"I was hoping you hadn't noticed how quickly that happened." The low, raspy voice was back and you felt yourself melting a little on the inside.

"Difficult not to when we were practically dry humping in the middle of the kitchen." You trailed a finger down his torso over his, extremely sculpted, abs and stopped at the waistband of his boxers, hooking the tip of your finger inside.

He watched what you were doing. "I did get a little carried away there, granted."

You paused, asking him the silent question of approval to carry on, before slipping your hand into his underwear and grabbing him. His skin was soft and velvety under your palm and, before you even had the chance to start stroking him, his dick twitched in your hand. "Mmm... so sensitive, Bobby."

He whimpered quietly, squeezing his eyes shut.

You reached for the box of condoms again, realising this probably wouldn't last very long if you did much else with your hand, and pulled one foil wrapper out. Quietly uttering his name to get him to open his eyes again, you pushed the condom against Bob's chest. "Put it on."

He didn't reply, didn't need to reply, just followed your instructions and did as he was told. Straightening up again into a kneeling position, he flailed around a little in an attempt to kick his underwear off. You tried not to laugh. When he succeeded, he ripped the packaging open with his teeth and rolled the condom onto himself in one smooth motion. And then he positioned himself over you, notching the tip of his length at your entrance.

He looked down at you for confirmation to go ahead.

You had one last teasing comment. "Your confidence in your size was warranted."

He huffed out a laugh. "I'd be insulted in your lack of confidence if I didn't love you so much."

Warmth bloomed through your chest. It had been implied several times throughout the night but hearing the words come out of his mouth meant so much more. He loved you.

You beamed up at him. "Glad to know that your love for me overrides any possible offence. I'll be using that to my advantage in future. Now please fuck me, I'm going crazy here."

Bob adored the way you were able to flip a conversation so easily. But he was glad you'd said it as he was beginning to experience his own temporary insanity being on the brink of having sex with you but not quite being there just yet.

He pushed into you slowly at first and then all at once, not being able to hold himself back. Once he'd bottomed out he paused for a moment, a choked groan leaving his throat. You whined at the stretch, glad for the previous orgasm prepping you for this.

"Just- just give me a second." Bob warned you, hanging his head as he took deep breaths.

Patiently, you waited.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for him to get a grip of himself as he eased out of you before slamming back in again. You gasped at the sensation. He set a pace, a steady yet almost brutal one. The loud sounds of sex filled the room and you hoped your neighbours were long asleep.

Bob buried his face in your neck, using his elbows to keep himself from smothering you. The noises he let out into your skin were heavenly and you were thankful that they weren't too muffled. You clawed as his back, making scratches that you'd have to apologise profusely for the next day.

"Fuck, harder please. Please harder." You didn't think it was possible for him to go any harder, the way he pounded into you already making the headboard shake, but you begged him to anyway. And somehow he found a way.

Your skin prickled with a burn where he slapped against you, one of his large hands sliding down to grip harshly at the flesh of your ass in order to pull you impossibly closer to him. He continuously hit that sweet spot inside of you, your eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling. The pressure was steadily building in your stomach, getting tighter and tighter with every thrust of Bob’s hips.

You clung onto his shoulders tightly as you plummeted off the edge, your thighs locking in on either side of him to lock him in place. Bob paused his movements for a second, feeling you clench around him as your throat formed a silent scream that came out as a gasp, and only started up again when you relaxed beneath him.

He pulled away from your neck to look down at you, finding a giddy smile on your face. He kissed you, all teeth and tongues, as he pumped into you a few more times before spilling into the condom. And then he collapsed on top of you.

The two of you stayed there for a couple of minutes, both catching your breath.

“I’m glad you had so many failed dates.” Bob whispered into the glistening skin of your chest.

You laughed quietly. “Me too.”

He eased himself up slowly, pulling out of you with a hiss, to dispose of the condom. “Do you think Phoenix purposely set you up on bad dates so you’d admit your feelings for me?”

You thought about it for a second. “Probably. She knows I’ve had a crush on you for forever. And I can’t think of any other good reason that she’d set me up with a sunset hater.”

Bob pulled back the covers on the bed and gestured for you to get in, crawling in beside you. “Can’t believe that guy.”

“I know!” You laughed and turned on your side to look at him. “Wished she’d done it sooner then we could’ve been doing this for a lot longer.”

He joined in on your laughter. “Trust me, we’ll have plenty of time now to be doing this a lot more.”

You smiled. “I’m glad.”

He smiled back. “Me too.”

You scooted closer to each other, limbs tangling together into one big mess, softs words of love exchanged between you as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep in each other’s arms.

A/N: this is the longest thing I think I’ve ever posted as a single thing… hope you enjoyed!

[crownofdecitreadingrespectfully]

TOP GUN FIC RECS

im a whore for these men. that is all.

*NONE OF THESE FICS ARE MINE. I AM NOT A WRITER. I MADE THIS SO I CAN EASILY GO BACK AND REREAD. I SIMPLY THINK THESE ARE WORKS OF ART AND DESERVE MORE LOVE.*

(my beloved writers, if you do not want your work here please message me and I will remove it – p.s.  i love you and i hope you know how talented you are <3)

Keep reading

[fatecantstopme]

Changed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: Enemies to lovers…the three times you and Dean/Sam work together and the final time when everything changes

Warnings: canon violence, cursing, use of pet names, body shaming, mentions of injuries and wound care. SMUT, face sitting, oral (F receiving) unprotected sex (P in V).

A/N: y'all I'm sorry, but I made Dean a total asshole for the beginning part of this. I had to for the storyline...don't hate me, it's got a GREAT ending.

You'd been hunting for close to five years when you first met Sam and Dean Winchester. The three of you happened to be working the same case in a small town in Ohio.

You and Sam hit it off instantly, but Dean was much more closed off and stand-offish. In fact, he was down-right rude most of the time. He made it very clear he didn't like you, nor did he want your help with the case.

Sam tried to get Dean to be a little more friendly, but it didn't matter what he did, Dean was not a fan of you and he showed it.

"If this wasn't an entire nest of vampires, I would be absolutely fine walking away from this," you said to Dean. "But I'm not about to let the two of you go in there alone."

"We don't need your help," Dean snapped.

"Well you've got it, so suck it up."

Sam stepped in. "Why don't we all just calm down."

"Shut up, Sam!" you and Dean yelled at the same time.

Sam threw up his hands and stepped back. He didn't wanna argue with either of you.

"I don't need help from some geek who probably can't even fight," Dean hissed.

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm a damn good fighter, Winchester," you growled.

Dean looked you up and down with disdain. It was very clear where his brain went and you did not appreciate his assumptions. Maybe you didn't really look like a traditional hunter, but you were good at it.

"No offense, (Y/N), but you don't exactly inspire confidence in your fighting abilities."

You took a deep breath and tried not to lash out. "You're an asshole, Dean Winchester, and honestly I don't care what happens to you, but your brother is a good person. You might both be amazing hunters, but I'm not letting Sam go in there without more than just you for backup."

Sam cut in before Dean could respond. "I agree with (Y/N), Dean. She's coming with us."

Dean shot his brother a dark glare, but Sam didn't back down. "You know what? Fine. If she dies, it's her fault."

"Fine with me," you snapped back at him.

Dean stomped out of the motel room, leaving you and Sam alone.

"I'm sorry about him," Sam said softly. "He's been different since Dad died."

You shook your head. "Don't apologize for him, Sam. I'm just worried his head isn't in the game and it's gonna get you killed."

Sam sighed. "I know. I'm worried about him too."

You let out a long sigh. "The only thing we can do is hope we all make it out of this alive."

Sam nodded his agreement. "Let's go before he gets even more annoyed."

You grabbed your gear and headed out the door after Sam.

As you'd predicted, clearing out the vampire nest required all three of you. By the time the last vamp fell to the ground--headless--you had more than proven yourself. Or at least, that's what you thought.

Sam, ever the gentleman, was extremely grateful for your help. "We couldn't have done it without you," he commented.

You were about to reply when Dean let out a rude scoff. You turned your attention to him with narrowed eyes. "Got something you wanna say, Winchester?"

He glared at you. "We would have been just fine without you."

"You know what? Screw you. If you wanna make terrible decisions that might get you killed, go for it, but don't drag your brother down with you."

Dean looked like he wanted to say more, but you'd stormed off in the direction of your car. You wanted to get back to the motel, shower, and go to bed. You needed to be on the road in the morning--on your way to another case.

Once you were out of earshot, Sam snapped at his brother. "Dude, what the hell has gotten into you?"

"What? You got the hots for the fat chick?"

"Don't talk about her like that, it's incredibly demeaning. Besides, she more than proved herself tonight."

"Whatever. Let's just get the hell out of here."

The next morning, you said your goodbyes to Sam, offering him your assistance in the future should he ever need it. You didn't bother to address Dean, knowing it was unlikely he would even respond.

Once you hit the highway, your mind began to focus on your next case--leaving the Winchester boys far behind.

**********

It had been close to 6 months since the hunt with Sam and Dean, and you were surprised to get a call from Sam requesting your assistance on another case.

"We think it's demonic omens," Sam explained.

You sighed. "How bad we talking?"

"We're not sure, but we could really use your help."

"Did you clear it with your brother?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line that told you everything you needed to know.

"Sam..."

"Look, I didn't say anything to him, but even he admitted we needed to call for help."

You sighed again, running your fingers through your hair. "Fine, but only because you asked."

"Thank you, (Y/N). I really appreciate it."

You hung up the phone and packed your bag to head to the middle of nowhere Oklahoma.

You didn't often meet people you didn't get along with, but Dean Winchester was certainly one of those people. You hated him and he quite obviously hated you. You weren't sure what it was about you he disliked so much, but you didn't appreciate the way he treated you.

There was something in the way he looked at you--disdain or disgust, you weren't sure, but you'd seen it in other men's eyes. You knew what it was...it was a judgment you'd seen a thousand times before. You'd struggled with your weight your whole life and some men (and women too) had the tendency to judge you based on your physical appearance.

It didn't help that you were a woman in a very male-dominated job. Male hunters had the tendency to judge you with a single look. It didn't matter that you were smart and capable--that you were a great hunter in your own right. All they saw was the outside and that was all they needed to decide what you could do--what you were capable of.

Unfortunately, Dean Winchester was apparently one of those hunters. Sam clearly saw there was more to you than appearances and you appreciated being given the benefit of the doubt. Sam had given you the chance to prove yourself and you'd done so, but that didn't seem to change Dean's perception of you.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt more because of who he was. Dean Winchester was a well-known figure in the hunting community, as were his father and brother. You knew he was a truly amazing hunter and part of you craved his approval. There was also something to be said about the way he looked...the man was gorgeous in an almost offensive way. You couldn't stop yourself from noticing, but you were painfully aware he did not find you attractive. As stupid as it might sound, his disdain hurt you deeply.

You sighed as you stared out the windshield at the road ahead of you. You didn't want to focus on the negative, especially when you were on your way to face what appeared to be several demons. You needed to be on your A-game...you'd be damned if you let yourself get distracted by a mere man.

Several hours later, you pulled into the parking lot of the motel the Winchesters were staying at. You went up to the motel room door and knocked, sending up a silent prayer that Sam would be the one to answer the door.

Someone must have been looking down on you favorably, because moments later, the door swung open to reveal Sam Winchester. "Thanks for coming, (Y/N)."

You smiled at him. "Of course. You call, I come."

Sam gestured for you to come in. "Dean's out getting food."

"Oh." You didn't know what else to say--part of you wished he was here so you could just get it over with, but another part of you was glad to prolong the inevitable for a little while.

"He'll be back soon," Sam said lamely.

"Okay. Should I get a room then?"

Sam shook his head. "You can have my bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"That's absurd, you're significantly taller than me. I'll take the couch or get my own room."

"There are no more rooms," Sam said with a shrug. "So take the bed, please. I'll feel like an asshole if you sleep on the couch."

You chuckled lightly and tossed your bag onto the bed nearest the door. "Alright, fine. I wouldn't want to offend your gentlemanly sensibilities," you teased.

He smiled, but before he could respond, the door swung open and the elder Winchester walked through carrying a bag of diner food.

You swallowed thickly, hoping he wouldn't have anything nasty to say right away.

Unfortunately, it seemed your luck had run out. "What's she doing here?" Dean asked in annoyance.

"She's here to help," Sam answered.

Dean threw the bag of food on the table. "I'm sorry--when I told you to call for backup, this is who you called?"

"She was available and she's more than capable," Sam argued.

"I don't give a damn. You should have called someone else. She'll get herself killed--or one of us."

"She has a name," you snapped. "And she's right here."

Dean turned his attention to you and you could see the fiery anger in his gaze. You didn't understand what about you made him so angry, but he certainly didn't give you a chance to ask.

"Have you ever even faced a demon, (Y/N)?" The way he emphasized your name was dripping with condescension.

"Actually, I have. More than once."

A flash of surprise crossed his face, but was gone quickly. "How many people died when you did?"

"One," you answered, trying to keep your voice level. "The innocent woman some demon scum was wearing."

"Were you alone?"

"Every time."

If you'd expected Dean to be impressed, you'd have been sorely mistaken. "This will be a hundred times worse. Half this town is demon-infested and countless people will die. Can you handle that?"

"It's the job," you answered as calmly as you could.

Dean regarded you quietly for a moment, before seeming to accept your answer. "Don't get us killed." He turned away from you and sat down at the table to eat his dinner, ignoring you once more.

You glanced over at Sam who looked extremely uncomfortable, but he didn't comment on anything that had been said. Instead he asked his brother if he'd gotten enough food to share with you too.

Before you were able to say you'd already eaten dinner, Dean made an offhand comment that struck a nerve.

"I don't think we have enough food for her even if you and I don't eat."

Sam gasped. "Dean!"

You froze for a moment, tears pressing against your eyes, but you didn't dare shed them. You pushed your emotions down and took a deep breath. "I actually already ate."

"Thank god," Dean mumbled.

"That's it!" you snapped. "What the hell is your problem with me, Winchester?"

He looked up at you with an annoyed glare. "I don't like you and I don't trust you."

"I don't care for you either, but that doesn't mean you have to treat me like shit. I haven't insulted you a single time, but you've managed to insult me several times from the moment we met. Either shut the hell up or I'll be forced to fight fire with fire."

He raised a single eyebrow at you, but he didn't say a single word. You were surprised at his silence, but you were done with the conversation. "I'm going to shower."

As soon as the bathroom door closed, Sam threw a wrapper at Dean. "What the hell, man?"

Dean shrugged. "What? I don't like her."

"What the hell did she ever do to you?"

"She didn't have to do anything. I just don't like her."

"Fine, but don't treat her like that," Sam requested. "She doesn't deserve your animosity...and you're better than this."

Dean didn't comment one way or the other, his silence signaling the end of the conversation.

"That was incredibly stupid of you!" Dean yelled.

"Oh fuck off, Winchester!" you yelled back. "You'd be dead if I hadn't!"

"I didn't ask you to save me!"

The argument was a waste of breath, but Dean didn't want to let it go and neither did you. You'd saved Dean's life during a fight with a demon and it put your own life at great risk.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice," you growled.

"You could have gotten Sammy killed, you idiot! He had to save your stupid ass because you wanted to play the hero!"

"Dean, that's not--" Sam began.

"Why can't you just be thankful you're not dead?!" you snapped. "And neither is your brother, for that matter!"

Dean's eyes were filled with a rage so dark it frightened you. "I don't understand how you've managed to survive this long on your own, but I doubt it'll last much longer if you keep pulling stupid stunts like that."

You'd managed to regain control of your temper, so you bit your lip to keep from yelling at him again. "You know what? I'm done. Don't ask for my help again."

"(Y/N) wait--" Sam called.

"No, Sam. I'm done. I can't put up with his attitude and you know what? I don't have to. Please don't call me again unless you're hunting alone."

You walked away from both men, fully expecting to never see either one of them again.

**********

Fate, of course, had other plans. One year later, almost to the day, you saved Sam Winchester's life...

You'd been working a case in a small town in Texas and you'd heard rumblings of a missing FBI agent who had been doing research in the town a couple days before you'd arrived.

You knew it was unlikely a real FBI agent had been conducting an investigation here...the events that had led you here clearly indicated the presence of a witch--a damn powerful one at that. As such, it was clear to you a hunter pretending to be FBI had been on the case before you.

You quickly put the pieces together and realized the witch you were hunting had likely kidnapped the other hunter and was doing god only knows what to him.

The more people you talked to, the more certain you were that the missing hunter/FBI agent was none other than Sam Winchester. All of the descriptions people gave you sounded exactly like him.

You tried calling his cell phone several times, but he didn't answer. You didn't want to place the next call, but you didn't see another option. You pressed his name in the phone and put it to your ear.

"Why are you calling me?" Dean's voice asked from the other end of the line.

"Do you know where your brother is?"

"I haven't spoken to him in a while."

"So that's a no?"

You heard him swear under his breath. "Why does it matter, (Y/N)?" he snapped.

"I'm hunting a witch that I think your brother was also hunting. He's missing."

"What do you mean, missing?"

"I mean no one in town has seen him in two days."

Dean was silent for a moment. "Where are you?"

"Lockhart, Texas."

"I'll be there by tomorrow morning."

He hung up without saying anything else, leaving you alone with your worry.

You knew you didn't have time to wait for Dean's arrival. You needed to find Sam...witches were no joke. You'd never forgive yourself if he died because you waited.

You started diving into your research, trying to identify the witch. This is what you were good at, but the added pressure of finding Sam clouded your brain.

You took a deep breath and tried to clear your head. You needed to focus--Sam needed you.

You turned your attention back to your work and noticed you had more clarity. Before you knew it, four hours had passed. You felt like you were no closer to finding this witch than you had been that morning.

You were about ready to give up for a while when you noticed something you'd missed before. You started flipping through the pages you had on the table in front of you and gasped softly. "Her," you mumbled, underlining the name on the page.

You quickly looked up the woman's address and within minutes, you were rushing out the door, on your way to--hopefully--save your friend.

When you pulled up in front of the house, every instinct you had told you you were in the right place. You couldn't explain why, but you just knew this was it.

You double checked your weapons before getting out of the car and making your way around the back of the house as quickly and quietly as possible.

You manage to get into the house without notifying the occupant and began creeping your way through the house, checking each room for signs of Sam or the witch.

You knew there was no basement in the house--Texas homes don't have basements--so there were a limited number of places Sam could be.

You'd cleared the first floor and slowly made your way up to the second floor. As you neared the first room, you heard two voices talking from farther down the hallway.

You immediately made your way towards the voices, moving slowly so as to not make any sound. As you got closer, you heard a female voice followed by a male voice you instantly recognized--Sam.

You continued on quietly until you reached the door. You listened closely, trying to make out what was being said.

"All you have to do," the female voice said, "is tell me who else you're working with."

"I told you," Sam's voice said angrily, "I'm working alone."

"Then why is there a woman looking for you?"

"A woman?" Sam's voice was laced with confusion.

"She's been asking around town about you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Sam cried out in pain and you nearly barged through the door on instinct. You controlled yourself, continuing to remain motionless while listening.

"Samuel...stop lying to me. Who is the woman?"

"I don't know," he insisted before crying out in pain again.

After a few moments, Sam spoke again, slightly breathless. "Look, if you're gonna kill me, just do it. I have nothing more to say to you."

The witch laughed darkly. "Perhaps you're right. You're of no use to me anymore."

Sam yelled in pain and you knew it was time to act. You swung the door open and entered the room with your gun pointed ahead of you. Your eyes quickly scanned the room, landing on Sam, who was sitting in the center of the room, arms tied to a chair. Your gaze next landed on the witch who was in the middle of chanting some sort of spell.

It took you less than a second to decide what to do, and that second was all you needed. You pulled the trigger and watched the bullet strike the witch's chest. She looked shocked, eyes locked on your face as she fell to her knees. Her gaze never left you as she took her final breath, now nothing but an empty vessel on the floor.

You ran over to Sam, taking in his injuries quickly. Seeing nothing of immediate concern you started to cut his bindings.

"(Y/N)?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Hunting a witch, obviously."

He chuckled lightly. "But how did you find me?"

"A little bit of skill and a whole lot of luck."

"Somehow I doubt that," he said softly.

Your eyes met his as you cut the final rope. You offered him a small smile, but remained silent.

"Seriously, (Y/N). Thank you."

You shrugged. "You would have done the same for me."

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again after last time," he admitted.

"Honestly, I didn't either," you whispered. "But when I realized you were here, I knew I couldn't leave you. I, uh--I called Dean."

Sam's eyes widened in shock. "You did what?!"

"I was worried about you and you weren't answering your phone, so I called him. I hoped he'd know where you were."

Sam sighed. "We actually haven't been hunting together for a while."

You nodded. "He mentioned that...but he's--um, well he's on his way."

"Great," he mumbled. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"I'm sorry," you said softly. "I didn't know."

"It's fine, (Y/N). You didn't know."

Unsurprisingly, Sam was staying at the same motel as you, so you drove him back. Once you arrived, you helped him out of his shirt and began to clean his wounds. Several of them were deep enough to require stitches, but there didn't appear to be anything life threatening.

"You're very lucky," you muttered.

Sam grabbed your hand, stopping you in the middle of a stitch. "It wasn't luck, (Y/N/N). You saved my life."

You sighed quietly and continued sewing his skin back together.

"I'm serious. I owe you my life."

"You don't owe me anything."

"I do. I guess both of us do now."

"What?"

"You saved Dean's life last year. He might have behaved like an ass, but he owes you his life as much as I owe you mine."

You finished the stitch and moved on to the next cut. "We're hunters, Sam. It's what we do."

"Doesn't mean I'm not grateful."

You offered him a soft smile. "Well then, you're welcome."

After about 30 minutes of constant wound care, you'd managed to clean and stitch up all his cuts. He'd been awake for almost 2 days at this point and just wanted a shower and some sleep.

He agreed to take a shower while you ran out and got some food that you practically forced him to eat before he collapsed on the bed, sound asleep within seconds.

You ate your dinner quietly, watching the large man sleep. You were incredibly glad you'd managed to save him--it would have haunted you forever if you'd been too late.

Eventually, you crawled into the other bed and passed out, forgetting for a moment that Dean Winchester was still on his way to Lockhart in search of his brother.

Early the next morning, you were awoken by loud, insistent knocking on the motel door. You dragged yourself out of bed, muttering under your breath as you made your way over to the door.

"Calm down, I'm coming," you hissed quietly. You looked through the peep hole and saw a slightly disheveled Dean Winchester standing on the other side.

You opened the door and he practically ran into the room, eyes searching the space for his brother. His gaze finally landed on Sam's sleeping form and his whole body instantly relaxed. Sam was peacefully still--exhaustion keeping him asleep.

You walked over to Dean and tentatively touched his arm to jostle him out of his trance. "He's alright," you murmured.

Dean shook his head to clear it and turned to you. "What?"

"Sam's okay," you repeated. "Just some cuts and bruises, but he'll live."

"What happened?"

You explained what had happened and how you'd identified the witch and found Sam.

"You saved his life," Dean whispered.

"He would have done the same for me."

"Still...you didn't have to, but you did it anyway. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me."

"Yeah," Dean mumbled. "I do."

You were both silent for a moment before Dean continued talking.

"Sam and I--well, we haven't been talking lately. I--I would have been devastated if something happened to him before I could apologize. I was mad and stupid and I said things I didn't mean...but he's still my brother. I can't lose him."

For the first time since you met him, you saw something more to Dean Winchester--something beneath the facade. It was obvious he truly loved his brother and in this moment he was showing a rare piece of humanity that shocked you. Maybe beneath the gruff, rude exterior, there was something genuinely good.

"Why don't you get some sleep," you said softly. "I'm sure you're tired from your drive and Sam will want to see you in the morning."

Dean turned his gaze back to you. "Thanks...I--uh, I am kinda tired." His face told you he wanted to say more, but he couldn't find the words.

Your expression softened. "I'll take the couch. Don't worry about it."

He shook his head immediately. "No, go back to sleep. I'll take the couch."

You decided not to argue, instead crawling into bed and falling asleep quickly. Something about Dean's presence made you feel safe.

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of voices in the room. As you oriented yourself, you realized it was Sam and Dean talking quietly across the room. You remained quiet and still, ears listening to the discussion.

It was clear they'd been talking for a while and the conversation had turned to the current situation.

"I can't believe she saved you," Dean whispered.

"Neither can I, to be honest. I don't even know how she found me. She said it was mostly luck."

"A year ago, I would have agreed with that," Dean stated. "But now? She's saved both of our lives--I have to admit she's a damn good hunter."

A small smile played on your lips and you were glad they couldn't see your face from their angle.

"That's a lot coming from you," Sam said in surprise. "What changed?"

"Honestly? Me," Dean answered. "A lot has happened in the last 6 months Sammy. I've taken the time away to really get my shit together. I was just so damn empty and I was taking it out on everyone, including you. But I've said some terrible things to (Y/N) and I don't know how to apologize. Hell, I don't even know if she'd want me to apologize. I treated her terribly and I wouldn't be surprised if she hated me."

"I'm pretty sure she does," Sam said softly. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't apologize or you can't fix it. You owe her your life as much as I do...that should mean something."

"I know," Dean admitted. "I've been such an asshole to her. I don't even think I deserve her forgiveness."

"It's worth a shot, Dean."

You couldn't see Dean's face, but you could hear the emotion in his voice. It made you think he truly meant what he was saying. Before this moment, you wouldn't have even considered listening to a word this man had to say to you...but now you felt like you owed it to him--or maybe yourself--to hear him out, should he choose to apologize.

You'd gotten out of bed not long after overhearing Sam and Dean's conversation. After a nice shower, you were getting your things together to head back out onto the road--onto your next hunt.

"I'm gonna grab some breakfast," Sam called out. "You guys want me to bring you something?"

"Coffee and a breakfast sandwich, please," you said in response.

"Coffee and an absurd amount of bacon," Dean added.

Sam groaned. "You are so gonna have a heart attack."

"I'm not gonna live long enough for that, Sammy, so don't worry about me. Bacon is worth it."

You chuckled softly and Dean shot you a look. When he noticed the soft smirk on your face, he smiled in return. "I think (Y/N) agrees."

Sam sighed. "Whatever--I'll be back in a while."

You waved at Sam's back before returning your attention to your duffle. You threw your last couple items into it before zipping it up.

"So..." Dean said awkwardly from behind you.

You sighed heavily before turning to face him. "Yes?"

"I...I, um--fuck," he muttered. "I owe you an apology."

You folded your arms across your chest. "Go on."

You'd never seen him look so uncomfortable and a part of you was happy about it. You felt bad for feeling that way, but after everything Dean had said and done to you since you'd met, he more than deserved it.

"I've been a major asshole."

You nodded your agreement.

He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I've said some truly horrible things to you and uh--about you. Things I never should have thought, let alone said aloud."

He fell silent and waited for a moment as if he was hoping you would disagree.

"Is that all?"

He exhaled slowly. "Look, you saved my life and I treated you like shit--then you go and save my brother's life even after everything I've done."

"I didn't do it for you."

"No--no, I know. I just...I suck at apologies."

You chuckled lightly. "A bit, yeah."

"What I'm trying to say is--I was wrong. I was wrong about everything. I was wrong to treat you the way I did and I'm so fucking sorry, (Y/N). I'm sorry I hurt you and I'm sorry I was such an asshole. I don't have a good excuse--I was broken and hurting and I chose to take it out on everyone around me. I'm not trying to excuse what I did--I just want you to know that I'm not usually like that. I've spent the last year trying to find myself again and I'm closer than I've ever been. But, umm that's not the point--it's not about me. I--fuck--I'm just so goddamn sorry, (Y/N)."

You offered him a small smile. "I genuinely appreciate your apology, Winchester. Especially because I can see how difficult it was for you to do it."

He looked relieved. "I'm not good at this sort of thing."

"It's okay. You got your point across."

"Oh, one more thing."

"Hmm?"

"You're a damn good hunter."

You smiled genuinely for the first time and Dean couldn't help but notice how it lit up your whole face. Your smile was contagious--and he found himself returning the expression.

Before you could thank him, Sam came back with breakfast.

"Am I interrupting?" Sam asked.

"No, we're good," Dean answered.

Sam looked at you and you nodded. He looked relieved, but he didn't comment on the situation.

Dean's stomach grumbled and he reached for the bag of takeout. "Let's eat."

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Sam asked.

You shook your head. "I appreciate the offer, but I think you guys need some time alone. Rekindle your relationship, mend fences, etc."

Sam nodded. "Alright, but please call us if you need anything--and I mean anything."

He wrapped you in a hug, which you happily returned. "You know I will."

He stepped back and headed out to the car, leaving you and Dean alone.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye for now," Dean said.

You turned to him with a smile. "I guess it is."

You stuck your hand out and Dean shook it tentatively.

"We're not at the hugging stage yet, Winchester," you said lightly.

He chuckled softly. "I've gotta earn that?"

"Oh yeah," you teased.

Dean grinned, liking the teasing tone in your voice. "I'll work on it. Stay safe, (Y/N)...call us if you need anything."

You nodded. "Same to you. Keep Sammy safe, okay?"

"I always will."

**********

You dragged yourself across the floor of the old, dirty warehouse, pain radiating through most of your body. You heard the footsteps of the creature you'd been hunting as it crossed the room towards you. You could see your cellphone lying several yards away, your gun not far from it. You knew this was it--you were gonna die.

You were breathing heavily, the pain almost unbearable. You didn't want to die, but you knew you wouldn't be able to reach your gun in time.

The creature took another step towards you and growled lowly. You looked up at it and resigned yourself to death.

"Hey, ugly!" a man's voice yelled from behind the creature.

The creature turned in the direction of the voice and a gunshot rang out. The creature cried out in pain and dropped to the ground dead about a foot from you.

You released the breath you'd been holding, the sharp exhale making your ribs ache. You heard footsteps rushing towards you and what you saw made you smile a little.

"(Y/N)!" Sam yelled as he dropped to the ground beside you. "You okay?"

Dean was right behind him, coming to a stop on the other side of your body. You could see the concern in both of their faces as their eyes scanned your body, looking for serious injuries.

"Hey guys," you said softly. "I'm alright."

"Can you stand?" Sam asked.

You nodded and the boys started to help you up. You groaned in pain, exhaling slowly to try and ease it.

"Easy," Dean said softly. "I've got you."

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't comment. He just continued to help you until you were standing up fully. Dean's arm slipped around your waist and pulled you against his side, holding you upright.

"Lean on me, okay? I've got you." He turned to his brother. "You handle the monster, I'll get (Y/N) to the car."

Dean moved slowly, allowing you to lean into him as you limped beside him. "You alright, (Y/N)?" he asked softly.

"That damn thing beat the hell outta me...definitely some bruised ribs, pretty sure I sprained my ankle, and I've got some pretty deep gashes on my back and hip. Otherwise though, I'm peachy."

Dean chuckled softly. "Tough as nails, this one."

"Minus the whole 'almost died' thing."

"Hey, don't worry about that. Happens to the best of us."

"I've noticed," you said lightly.

He laughed. "Rude."

"Seriously, though, thanks for saving my ass."

"My pleasure, (Y/N). Besides, I owed you."

You whimpered slightly when Dean shifted to help you as you approached the stairway.

"Shit, (Y/N), sorry. You okay?"

"I'm fine," you lied through gritted teeth.

"Liar," he mumbled. "Hold still."

You did as he asked, watching in confusion as he took a step away from you, sliding his left arm under your legs and scooping you up into his arms.

You gasped in pain and surprise. "What are you doing?!"

"Sorry if that hurt you, but this will be a hell of a lot easier--and less painful for you."

"You are not carrying me down the stairs, Winchester," you hissed.

"You gonna stop me?" he asked harshly. When you were silent, he smirked smugly. "Didn't think so."

You held on tightly as Dean carried you down the stairs with shocking ease. You knew you weren't light and it surprised you he was able to carry you without issue.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, you stirred against him. "You can put me down now."

"Not happening. I'll put you down when we get to the car."

You stared at him in shock. The man in front of you was so different from the man you'd met almost three years prior. Hell, he was even different from the man who'd apologized to you 8 months ago.

"You've changed," you whispered.

He glanced at your face, cheeks tinged pink. "For the better, I hope."

You smiled warmly. "Definitely."

Dean had driven you back to the motel, leaving Sam to bring your car back. Instead of taking you to your room, Dean brought you to his and Sam's to get you cleaned up and to check your wounds.

"Alright let me see your back," Dean said gently.

You shifted to lift the back of your shirt up, allowing Dean to see the claw marks on your lower back.

"Shit, those are deep," he muttered. "You're gonna need stitches."

"Great."

"I've got everything we need." He got up and grabbed his kit, pulling out the supplies he needed to stitch you up. "So I need unhindered access to your back."

You looked up at him, unsure of what he was saying.

He bit his lip and shifted his weight. "I, uh...I need you to take your shirt off."

Your eyes widened. "Absolutely not."

"I'm not trying to make it weird, but I need both hands to stitch, so I can't hold your shirt up too."

There was zero chance of you taking off your shirt in front of Dean fucking Winchester. Absolutely not. No way in hell. He looked like that and you...well you didn't like anyone to see you without a shirt off.

"How 'bout I lay down on my stomach and pull my shirt up so it's out of the way?"

He sighed. "Fine, it's a reasonable compromise."

You nodded gratefully and laid down on your stomach, but the moment you did, you cried out in pain and rolled onto your side.

Dean was beside you in an instant. "What's wrong?"

"Ribs," you muttered.

"Shit..." he paused for a moment. "(Y/N) please let me help you."

You looked up at him, tears filling your eyes--a mixture of pain and embarrassment.

"Hey," he said softly. "You're okay. I know it's not fun, but I need to get you stitched up before the cuts get infected."

You bit your lip and nodded. "Will you turn around until I'm ready?"

Dean offered you a soft smile. "Of course." He turned around and waited for you to tell him you were ready.

You moved slowly, lifting your shirt off over your head, inhaling sharply at the painful movements. A whimper left your lips, the pain forcing the sound out.

It took all of Dean's self-control to not turn around when he heard your soft whimper, but he'd promised to wait.

You balled your shirt up in front of you, using it to hide your stomach and as much of your chest as you could. "Okay," you whispered.

Dean turned around slowly, keeping his gaze on your face. He was very tempted to look down, but he knew it would be unwelcome. He settled onto the bed behind you and began to clean your wounds.

You hissed at the contact, wincing away from him.

"Sorry, sweetheart."

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head--shock settling into your bones at the sound of the pet name.

You tried to remain still as he continued cleaning, despite the pain that was radiating through your body.

"Alright, they're clean," Dean said gently. "Time for the stitches."

You tensed up as he gently placed his calloused hand against your skin.

"Just relax, okay? I've got you."

You did your best to relax and Dean started to stitch your skin back together. About halfway through, Sam arrived back at the motel.

"Yikes," Sam said when he saw the deep gashes on your back. "Those look gnarly."

"Yeah, it's not great," you muttered.

"Sorry, (Y/N/N)," Sam commented. "I brought your car back though." He held up the keys with an awkward smile.

"Thanks, Sam."

"Sammy, why don't you go round us up some food?" Dean requested.

Sam raised his eyebrows as he looked between you and Dean. "Alright, sure. What do you want?"

"Burgers and pie," Dean said immediately.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yeah, sounds good," you answered.

"Alright, I'll be back." Sam grabbed the Impala keys off the table and headed back out.

"You still with me, sweetheart?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, voice laced with pain and discomfort.

"I'll be done soon enough," Dean said gently. "Then onto the ones on your hip."

"Fuck," you muttered. You'd almost forgotten about the deep cuts on your hip, but the pain started back up at the mention of them.

"I'm going as quickly as I can without giving you some seriously hideous scars," Dean whispered.

You smiled a little at the sweetness of his words. "Thanks," you murmured.

Dean found himself fighting the urge to place a soft kiss to your exposed shoulder. He wanted to provide you comfort, but instead he was actively causing you pain--and he hated it.

After several more minutes of silence, Dean finished his last stitch. "All done."

You sighed gratefully. "Thank God."

"Actually, it's just Dean," he quipped lightly.

You laughed warmly, but the action hurt your ribs, causing a soft groan of pain.

"While I liked hearing you laugh, I'd rather not cause you more pain than I have to."

"Then don't make me laugh, Winchester," you teased.

He grinned. "I'm just naturally hilarious."

You chuckled again, trying to suppress the sound to prevent any pain.

"Alright, lose the pants."

"Excuse me?"

"I've gotta get to your hip somehow, sweetheart," he stated.

You groaned softly. The last thing you wanted to do was be essentially naked in front of him. "Fine, but I'm putting my shirt back on."

"Absolutely not. That thing is dirty and ruined. You're not putting it anywhere near those cuts." He started rummaging through his bag and he pulled out a flannel shirt. "Here, put this on."

You looked at him in disbelief. "I don't think I'm going to fit into your shirt."

He looked confused. "Of course you will. Just put it on."

You took the shirt from him, still convinced there was no way it would fit you. He was a large man, but you had a very full chest and soft stomach...you were used to not fitting into a man's clothing.

"Turn around," you whispered.

Dean sighed softly, but he turned around to give you the privacy you'd requested.

You pulled yourself up with a groan, tossing your dirty shirt onto the floor. You slowly pulled the flannel shirt on over your arms and nearly gasped in surprise when you realized that not only did the shirt fit you, but it was a little big on you. You buttoned the shirt quickly, feeling more than a little pleased at the way it fit. Plus, you couldn't help but notice the shirt smelled like Dean--like soap, leather, and a little bit of whiskey.

"Can I turn around now?"

"Oh...yeah."

He turned around and felt a tightening in his chest as he took in the image of you in his shirt. He didn't know he'd feel this way when he'd given you the shirt to wear, but damn--he couldn't help but notice how sexy you looked in his clothing.

"Told you it would fit," he said with a smirk. "Even looks big on you."

You blushed. "So you were right one time."

He laughed. "I promise it won't be the last."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile remained on your lips.

"Now the pants."

"I am not taking off my pants, Winchester."

"How am I supposed to clean your wounds through your pants?"

You groaned. "God, this is embarrassing," you muttered.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart. I'm just trying to help."

You groaned a second time. "Fine," you grumbled.

Dean bit his lip and looked away. He needed you to stop making those damn sounds or he was going to lose his mind.

You looked up at him warily, making sure his gaze remained averted from you. You removed your pants as quickly as you could without causing yourself more pain. A few moments later, you were standing there in nothing but your underwear and Dean's shirt. Thankfully, the shirt was long enough that it covered you both in the front and back.

"You good?" he asked softly.

"Yeah...where--where do you want me?"

Dean groaned softly, desperately trying to keep his thoughts to himself. He didn't think you'd appreciate hearing where he really wanted you.

He kept his eyes trained on your face. "Lay down on your side so I can see your hip."

You swallowed thickly, feeling the change in the air of the room. You slowly lowered yourself onto the bed, shifting to lay on your side.

Dean grabbed a pillow. "Lift your head for me." You did as he asked and he slipped the pillow under your head to make it more comfortable for you.

He climbed onto the bed behind you and exhaled slowly, trying to keep his shit together. You looked gorgeous in his shirt, round ass barely peeking out from beneath it. He felt the strong urge to smack it, but he had a feeling you'd knock him out if he did.

"Damn," he whispered as he looked at the deep claw marks on your hip. "I think these are worse."

"Yeah, they don't feel great," you muttered softly.

"I'll try to be gentle."

Dean began to clean the wounds, sadness lacing its icy tendrils around his heart every time he heard you make a pained sound.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N/N)," he whispered.

"It's fine," you ground out. "Wait, did you just call me (Y/N/N)?"

He winced slightly. "I--uh--I did. Is that okay?"

You were quiet for a moment as you contemplated it. "Yeah...yeah it's okay."

He exhaled gratefully. He hadn't meant to call you a nickname--it had just kinda slipped out. He was glad it didn't upset you.

Dean had just started the stitches when Sam came back with food.

"Woah," Sam said as he caught a glimpse of the two of you on the bed--and you without pants.

"I'm stitching the wounds on her hip, you idiot," Dean said sharply.

"Oh--wait, why is she wearing your shirt?"

"Because hers was dirty, Samuel. Any more questions?"

Sam threw his hands up in defeat. "My bad--my bad."

"You better have brought me pie," Dean grumbled.

"I didn't forget the pie," Sam said in annoyance.

Your stomach suddenly grumbled loudly. "Apparently I'm starving," you said lightly.

"As soon as I'm done with the stitches, we can eat."

Sam held a container of fries out to you. "Want some?"

"Oh thank God," you muttered as you took the container from him.

"Quit moving," Dean admonished.

"Sorry," you said sheepishly. "Fry?"

He glanced at your extended hand and simply opened his mouth. You looked at him in confusion and he nodded to his hands. "I can't exactly grab it."

"Oh, right." You took a fry out of the container and held it out to him. He leaned forward and took the fry from your hand, a soft moan of enjoyment escaping his lips.

You felt a warmth spread through your lower body and your breathing became a little more labored. You swallowed thickly and averted your gaze, unable to look at him without blushing.

You continued eating your fries quietly as Dean finished stitching the cuts.

"All....done," Dean said softly as he finished the final stitch.

"Thank you," you said softly. You started to try and sit up and Dean grabbed you to help. "You're not gonna let me put my pants on, are you?"

Dean grinned ear to ear. "I mean, I do like you like this, but I'll let you put on pants--if you insist."

Your eyes widened slightly and you blushed deeply.

"But not your pants, of course," Dean said with a smirk. He dug into his bag again, producing a pair of well-worn sweats. "Here you go, sweetheart."

"Just because your shirt fits, doesn't mean your pants will."

He looked you up and down slowly. "Oh they'll fit, they'll just be a little long."

Sam looked back and forth between the two of you for a few moments. "Am I missing something here?"

"Nope," you both answered.

"Okaaaay..."

You leaned down to start pulling the sweatpants on and as you tugged them up your thighs, you realized Dean was once again correct. The damn things were gonna be loose.

You stood up slowly and pulled them up the rest of the way, tugging on the string to tighten them enough so they wouldn't sag. You looked down at your feet and chuckled at the fabric pooling around your feet.

"Need some help?" Dean asked lightly.

"Could you maybe roll up the bottoms? I don't wanna fall on my face."

He grinned. "It would be my pleasure."

He dropped to his knees in front of you, earning a gasp of surprise from you. He slowly rolled up one pant leg, looked up at you with a little smirk, then rolled up the second pant leg. He looked back up at you with the same expression on his face. "Better?"

You didn't trust your voice, so you simply nodded.

He pulled himself up, suddenly towering over you again. Your knees felt weak--and it had nothing to do with your injuries.

"Uhhh...dinner is getting cold..." Sam muttered awkwardly.

"Mhmm," Dean hummed, gaze still fixed on your face.

"We should probably eat," you whispered.

Dean's tongue slipped out of his mouth, wetting his lips. His gaze was almost hungry as he regarded you, a soft smirk gracing his handsome face. "I am quite hungry," he murmured. "Very, very hungry."

You felt your pulse quicken and your lips parted slightly. The way he was looking at you made you think he wasn't referring to a hunger for burgers or pie...but you knew that couldn't be possible. Dean Winchester didn't want you--not like that.

You took control of the situation, stepping around Dean to limp towards the table. Dean quickly slipped an arm around your waist to help you.

"I'm alright, Dean."

"I'm not letting you fall and worsen your injuries."

You smiled up at him as he guided you to a chair and gently lowered you into it. He sat down in the chair beside yours and grabbed a burger for each of you out of the bag.

Sam had already eaten his dinner, so he was just watching the interactions between you and Dean. It was obvious he was confused, and to be honest, so were you.

Last time you'd talked to Dean, he'd apologized for being a massive asshole, but this transition was completely unexpected. You didn't know how to address it, or frankly, how to feel about it.

Instead, you decided to ask a question that had been tickling the back of your mind. "So...how did you guys find me?"

"Oh, that was all Dean," Sam admitted.

"Well you're the one who identified this case," Dean said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but you figured out where the monster was taking its victims--and then we saw your car."

"When we got inside the warehouse, I heard you yell in pain and I just--well, I just took off," Dean said.

You looked at both of them with a warm expression. "Well, thanks for saving me."

"You already thanked me," Dean said softly. "Besides, we both owed you our lives."

"He's not wrong," Sam added.

"Well, I'm thankful either way."

"You're welcome, (Y/N/N)," Dean said with a warm smile.

Sam gave his brother a weird look before looking back at you. "You're welcome."

The three of you continued to eat your dinner in relative silence, Sam or Dean occasionally chatting with each other while you looked on.

You watched Dean quietly, really taking him in for the first time. He was so incredibly beautiful--almost painfully so. His eyes were so kind, so much kinder than they'd been when you'd met. More importantly, he seemed lighter--more whole, than before.

You felt a stirring in your chest as you gazed at him, hating yourself for it. You shouldn't have any feelings for him--you couldn't. You wouldn't put yourself in that position and you certainly didn't want to be another notch on Dean Winchester's bedpost.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Dean asked softly, shaking you from your thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"You were staring at the side of my head," he said lightly.

"Oh, sorry. I completely zoned out."

"Don't worry about it. You're allowed."

The smile you gave him quickly turned into a yawn. "I suddenly got really tired. I think I'll go back to my room to sleep."

Dean practically jumped out of his chair. "I'll take you."

You gave him an odd look. "I think I can manage to limp my way three doors down."

"Well, I'd feel better if I went with you."

Your expression softened. "Alright, alright. Lemme get my shoes on."

Dean grabbed your boots and sat them in front of you, but when you bent down to get them on, you gasped as pain radiated from your bruised ribs.

"Here, let me help," Dean said gently.

You gladly accepted his help, allowing him to get your boots on both feet. He helped you out of your chair and Sam stood up as well. He hugged you gently, which you returned in kind.

"I'm glad you're okay," Sam whispered into your hair.

"Thanks, Sammy," you murmured.

He stepped back and gave his brother a look you couldn't decipher. "I'm gonna shower and then hit the hay."

"Sounds good. I'll be back in a bit," Dean said before taking your hand and helping you towards the door.

Once you were outside, Dean was instantly more protective of you. Either he was worried about you falling on the hard cement or something attacking you. Whichever one it was, his protectiveness warmed your heart.

"Want me to carry you again?" Dean teased lightly.

You smacked his arm affectionately. "I can walk on my own, Winchester. Slowly..."

He grinned. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

"So about that...since when do you call me sweetheart?"

"Since today, I guess," Dean muttered.

"A pet name and a nickname in the same day...interesting."

"Interesting good or interesting bad?"

You looked up at him. "I haven't decided yet."

"Fair enough."

"This is it," you said as you stopped in front of your motel room. "Thanks for walking me over."

Dean gave you an odd look. "I'm not leaving you at the door, (Y/N)."

You chuckled. "I didn't wanna assume."

You unlocked the door and Dean helped you in. "Lemme check the room, okay?"

You watched Dean walk around the room, checking the closet and the bathroom for anything that might want to hurt you. Finding nothing, he came back into the room, much more relaxed than before.

"So no monsters in the closet?" you teased.

He smiled. "You're safe."

"I already felt safe," you said softly.

"Oh?"

You blushed and looked at the floor, a little embarrassed that those words had left your lips.

Dean crossed the space between you and slid a hand under your chin, lifting it gently to meet his gaze. "Are you saying I make you feel safe?"

His voice was soft and affectionate--it put you at ease. "Yes," you whispered honestly.

Dean smiled warmly. "That's the best thing you could ever say to me."

"Easy to please, I see," you joked lightly, trying to keep your cool.

"Not usually, but you seem to be an exception to the rule."

The way he was looking at you sent a warm feeling through your body and you felt heat pooling in your lower belly. His hand was still on your chin, but you wanted to feel it everywhere.

His thumb began to gently brush against your skin, hand sliding up to your cheek. You leaned into it and your eyelids fluttered closed for a moment. You felt dean's thumb brush gently against your lower lip and you inhaled sharply, eyes opening to meet his fiery gaze.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered.

You desperately wanted to say yes, everything in you was screaming to say yes...but you couldn't. You needed to know what his intentions were.

"What do you want from me?" you whispered.

He looked taken aback. "I thought that was obvious."

You took a step back and his hand dropped from your face. "I know your reputation...I don't wanna be just another one night stand or some story you tell the boys around the campfire."

He looked hurt--almost as if you'd slapped him. But he seemed to realize you were right...he did have a reputation. "I know it's hard to trust me...I haven't been good to you in the past, but this isn't some one night stand, pity sex thing. I want you. I want this."

"This?" you whispered.

"You're so damn strong, (Y/N). You're smart and funny, you're an amazing hunter and an even better woman. You're brave and selfless and so incredibly loyal. I'm sorry I didn't see it when we first met, but I see it now. I can see what Sam saw in you when we first met. I've spent the last 8 months thinking about you constantly. I want something real with you, (Y/N). It scares the hell out of me, but I need you in my life...if you'll have me."

You listened to his words and you heard the emotion in them. You could feel how much he cared about you--how deeply he meant what he was saying. "I never thought you'd want someone like me."

He looked confused. "Do you mean perfect? Because that's what you are to me."

You gasped softly. "What?"

"You're not a perfect person--none of us are, but you're perfect for me."

"Have you lost your mind? Any recent head injuries?"

Dean laughed lightly. "Nothing like that, baby. I want this--it's real for me."

"Why me?" you said so softly he almost didn't hear you.

"I think I just explained that, sweetheart," he said gently.

You gestured to your body as you said, "But I look like this--and you...you look like that."

He narrowed his eyes at you. "Don't you dare talk badly about your body, baby. Don't you dare."

Tears stung your eyes and you sniffled softly.

"Look at me sweetness," he said softly, taking your face in his hands. "I know I said some terrible things when we first met--some of them about your body. I said it because I knew it would hurt you--I could tell you had some insecurities and I played on them. I feel terrible for it--fucking awful. But I didn't really mean it, baby. I just wanted to hurt you. Please forgive me--please believe me."

The tears streamed down your face and he gently wiped them away.

"It's okay, beautiful. Talk to me."

You sniffed softly. "I forgive you, Dean...and I believe you."

He smiled warmly as he continued to wipe your tears. He stepped a little closer and placed soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and finally, your lips.

You leaned into the kiss, returning the affection in kind. When his lips left yours, he brushed the last tears from your face. "You wanna go to bed now, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

You smiled and shook your head. "I wanna get in bed, but I'm not feeling as tired now."

Dean smirked and his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him as gently as he could. "Oh really? And what would you like to do in bed?"

"I have a feeling you have some ideas."

"Oh baby, I have a lot of ideas...but you've been through a lot today. I don't wanna hurt you."

"I guess you'll just have to be really gentle," you whispered against his lips.

He groaned softly. "I can be gentle...I can be so fucking gentle."

You giggled softly and he smiled, pressing his lips against yours.

"I wanna manhandle the shit outta you just to prove to you that I can...but that'll have to wait until you've healed. For now, I want you to do exactly what I tell you to--and stop me if it hurts too much, okay?"

You nodded.

"Baby, I'm gonna need you to use those words."

"Yes, Dean," you murmured.

He pressed his body up against yours again and you could feel his erection against your abdomen. "You know, I just thought of something..."

"What's that?"

"I think that's the second time you've ever called me by my name."

"What? No--can't be."

"The first time was when you forgave me and then you just said it now...but you usually just call me 'Winchester'."

You thought about it for a moment and realized he was right. "I kinda like saying your name...Dean."

He groaned softly. "I fucking love it, baby. I'm gonna make you scream my name, pretty girl."

"We'll see," you teased.

"Is that a challenge?"

You grinned. "One hundred percent."

"Oh you are in for it now, gorgeous."

You laughed as he pressed his lips against yours before trailing kisses down your neck. He nipped at your pulse point and you moaned softly, earning a grunt of approval from Dean.

"Now remember," he murmured against your skin. "You promised to do what I tell you to, but if you wanna stop, just tell me, okay? I won't do anything you don't wanna do."

You sighed softly. "I trust you, Dean."

"Good," he whispered. "Now take off your clothes."

You gasped in surprise, but quickly started to unbutton your shirt. When it came time to take it off completely, you froze, the familiar discomfort sinking into your mind.

"Hey," he said gently. "Take off whatever you're comfortable with, sweetheart, but I want you to remember that I think you're sexy as hell, okay?"

You nodded and took a deep breath before sliding your shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes roamed your torso appreciatively.

"Can I take off your bra?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

He unhooked your bra with one hand, and gently pulled it forward, exposing your ample breasts to his hungry eyes. "Fuck..." he whispered.

You felt the strong urge to cover up, but you kept your arms at your sides, allowing Dean to take in every inch of skin he could see.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, (Y/N)."

You whimpered softly as his lips latched onto your nipple, one hand at the small of your back to hold you up and the other massaging your breast gently.

Your hands tentatively rested on Dean's shoulders, and you could feel the taunt muscles shift beneath his shirt. You desperately wanted to feel his skin against yours, so you curled your fingers into his shirt and tugged on it gently.

He released your nipple and looked up at you. "What is it, baby? What do you need?"

You bit your lip and shifted slightly. "I wanna feel your skin."

He chuckled softly. "Like this?" he asked as he ran his hands slowly down your sides.

You shook your head and reached for the hem of his shirt. As soon as your hand managed to touch it, he understood what you were asking. He stepped back and yanked his shirt off over his head.

As much as you wanted to feel his body against yours, you stopped him when he leaned back towards you. He looked a little saddened, misunderstanding your movement.

"I'm trying to appreciate perfection," you said softly.

He smiled and puffed out his chest slightly. "You're the perfect one, baby."

You looked up at him with a smile. "Take me to bed, Mr. Winchester."

He chuckled. "Yes ma'am."

He guided you over to the bed and he sat down on the edge, pulling you down with him. You straddled his lap and ground yourself down against his very prominent bulge.

You gasped into his mouth and he swallowed the soft sounds you made. He grabbed ahold of your hips, careful to avoid the wounds on your left one.

"I think you should lose the pants, baby--underwear too."

You pulled yourself off of him, stepping back to slowly peel off your pants and underwear. Your hands were shaking slightly, nervous about being completely naked in front of him. When you stood back up, you found Dean's gaze glued to your body, eyes tracing every inch of you he could see.

He reached out to touch you, but you took a step back, making him look up at you in surprise.

You smirked slightly, feeling emboldened by the obvious desire in his eyes.

"Baby..." he said softly. "Come here."

You shook your head. "Not until you're naked too."

He raised an eyebrow at you, but a small smirk danced across his lips. He liked your commanding voice--he was almost surprised by how much it turned him on.

He stood up, eyes never leaving your face. He slowly took off his jeans, stepping forward to get out of them. He hooked his fingers into his boxers and lowered them slowly, keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

You inhaled sharply as you took in his size--much larger than you were accustomed to. Your eyes flicked back up to his and his smirk had widened slightly.

"Like what you see, pretty girl?"

"Very much, but I'm a little...concerned."

"About what?"

You looked down at his cock and back up at his face. "You're a little...large."

He laughed softly. "I'll be gentle."

"I'm more concerned about it not fitting."

He grinned. "That should not make me feel so good," he chuckled. "It'll fit, sweetheart. You'll see."

"I trust you."

He smiled and took a step towards you, arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer. He kissed you softly, hands roaming your skin, loving the feeling of your softness. "Fuck, baby--I wanna taste you. I need to."

You gasped softly as two of his fingers gently swiped between your pussy lips, collecting some of your slick. He brought the fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, a soft moan slipping from his lips.

"You taste delicious, sweetness. I want more."

He pulled you down onto the bed with him, tugging your body on top of him. You kissed him passionately, as you ground your hips against his cock.

He groaned into your mouth and his hands traveled up your back, massaging soft circles into your skin.

"Come up here, baby," he begged.

You pulled back, staring at him in confusion. "I don't understand."

He gently caressed your thighs. "I wanna taste you--come sit on my face."

"Do you have a death wish?"

He looked surprised. "What?"

"I'll smother you, Dean."

He rolled his eyes. "Then I'll die an extremely happy man. Suffocate me between those thick, sexy thighs, baby."

Your eyes widened, but you were more than a little intrigued by the concept. You'd never been asked to sit on anyone's face before and you'd certainly never suggested it. You had to admit, you'd always wanted to try it.

"Are you sure?"

"Fuck yeah, babe."

"Okay," you agreed softly.

Dean gently guided you towards his face, helping you straddle his head. His left hand gripped your right hip and he laid his right hand on your left thigh.

"Put my hand above your cuts so I can hold onto you," he requested softly.

You took his right hand and placed it just above the deep gashes on your left hip.

"Good girl," Dean praised. "Now have a seat and let me feast on you."

You lowered yourself onto his mouth, but didn't quite sit down. Instead of admonishing you, Dean dug his fingers into your flesh and tugged you down firmly.

You cried out in a mixture of surprise and pleasure as his tongue slipped through your folds. Dean groaned loudly as he began to devour you.

You had never in your life felt pleasure like Dean was giving you in this moment. The sounds that his ministrations pulled from your lips were absolutely sinful. Your legs had already begun to shake and you were gripping the headboard like your life depended on it.

"Dean, I'm so close," you gasped.

He moaned into your core and his fingers dug further into your flesh, blunt nails scraping against your skin. He didn't stop his actions--the desire to feel you cum outweighing his need to breathe.

Within moments, you cried out as your orgasm washed over you, your thighs squeezing his head tightly. Dean continued working you through your orgasm until you started to squirm away from him. He finally let you go and you leaned back onto his chest as you tried to catch your breath.

Dean moved you as gently as he could, shifting you to straddle his hips as he pulled himself into a sitting position, feet planted firmly on the floor beside the bed. He pulled you against his chest and brushed his fingers through your hair.

"You okay, baby?" he asked softly, lips pressed to your forehead.

"More than okay," you mumbled into his chest.

He chuckled softly as he held you against him, loving the feeling of your softness beneath his fingers.

After a few more moments, you sat up and bit your lip. "Dean?"

He smiled at you. "Hmm?"

"I want you to fuck me."

His eyes widened slightly and he shifted his hips under you, brushing his cock against your core. "I'm happy to oblige," he teased softly.

You sighed as he kissed you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned into the kiss and his hands slid down your body, lifting you slightly so he could line himself up with your entrance.

"Are you sure you wanna do it in this position?" you asked quietly.

"It's the only position where I can pleasure you, hold you close, and avoid hurting you. So yeah, baby, I'm sure."

You looked into his beautiful green eyes and smiled warmly. You could feel how much he cared about you and it warmed your soul.

"You ready?" he whispered.

"I'm ready."

He held his cock firmly, letting you take the lead as you slowly lowered yourself down onto him. By the time you'd lowered yourself completely, you were both breathless.

The stretch was incredible--unlike anything you'd ever experienced. You swore you could feel him in your lower belly--you'd never felt so full.

Dean leaned his forehead against yours, breathing heavily as he let you adjust to his size.

"You can move now," you whispered.

"Just one moment, sweetheart, I--I need a moment."

"Are you okay?"

He looked up at your pretty face and smiled. "I'm fucking phenomenal, babe...but your pussy feels so goddamn incredible, so tight and warm--I just need a second to control myself."

You blushed at his praise, warmth rushing through your body at his words. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then his jaw, before finding the sweet spot on his neck that made him moan.

His hands dug into your flesh as he started to roll his hips against yours. You gasped softly against his skin, pleasure washing over you.

"Hold onto me, sweetheart," Dean murmured softly.

You did as he asked, clinging tightly to his shoulders and tightening your thighs against his.

Dean wrapped his arms around you, careful not to hold you too tightly or touch your stitched wounds. He pressed his lips softly against your collarbone as he rolled his hips again.

He gave you less than a second to get comfortable before he began to thrust up into you in earnest. His feet were planted firmly on the floor, allowing him to piston up into you.

"Dean!" you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

Each thrust was calculated and hard, making your body shiver with pleasure. He shifted slightly, pulling you more firmly into his chest, which changed the angle of his thrusts. The new angle allowed him to hit your g-spot with each thrust.

You moaned loudly and dug your nails more firmly into his shoulders and back.

"There it is," Dean murmured against your soft skin. "Feels so good, baby."

"Don't stop," you pleaded.

"I have no intention to."

His thrusts sped up to an almost shocking speed and your whole body vibrated with pleasure. You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching, but you couldn't voice it. The pleasure overwhelmed your mind--rendering you speechless.

"You close baby? I can feel you squeezing me."

In response, you nipped at his shoulder and moaned into his skin.

He chuckled lightly. "That's it, pretty girl. I want you to cum for me--wanna feel you cum all over my cock."

You whimpered softly, "Please."

"I've got you, baby. Let go for me."

Your legs had begun to shake and you cried out in pleasure as your orgasm slammed into you with surprising force. You called his name as he worked you through it, thrusts beginning to falter as he chased his own high.

"I'm close, baby," he whispered against your throat.

You used what strength you had left to clamp down onto his cock, squeezing him as tightly as you could.

"Oh--fuck," Dean gasped. He began to cum inside you, coating your walls with his seed. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder to keep himself from crying out at the intensity of his orgasm.

You relaxed your body against him as his thrusts slowed to a stop, forehead resting against his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath.

Dean's arms were still wrapped around you, holding you close to him as he came down from his high. He placed soft open mouthed kisses to your skin and whispered sweet nothings.

Dean began to shift his body as his member softened inside you. You whimpered softly, body too sensitive for any kind of movement.

"Sorry, sweetheart. You okay?"

You nodded. "I'm okay, just a little sore."

He grinned wolfishly. "That makes me feel good."

You laughed softly and smacked his arm affectionately. "It's a little bit of you and a little of that whole monster fight from earlier."

He made a pouty face, which only made you laugh more. The increased laughter hurt your sore ribs and you winced at the pain.

"Shit, sorry sweetheart."

"Not your fault."

He brushed your hair back from your face so he could look at you better. "You look so sexy right now, baby."

You blushed. "I look like I had the shit beat out of me."

"Nah, you look like you just got well and properly fucked," he teased.

You chuckled slightly. "It was quite nice, I must say."

He grinned. "Just you wait until you're all healed up--I'm gonna fuck you so good you won't be able to walk straight for days."

You gasped. "Oh my."

He licked his lips and kissed you softly. "I could kiss you all night long."

"As much as I would love that, I think we should take a shower. I'm exhausted."

"Alright, pretty girl." Dean stood up, still holding you. You wrapped your legs around his waist to avoid falling to the ground. "I've got you, (Y/N/N)."

You looked down at him. "I know."

He smiled and kissed you gently. "Shower, then bed."

"Yes, sir."

"Oo," he said happily. "I like that."

You grinned. "I'll keep that in mind for later."

Dean grinned back at you. "You're gonna be in for a wild ride, sweetness."

"Is that a promise?"

"Absolutely."

After your shower, Dean carried you back to your bed and laid you down gently. He crawled into the bed beside you and pulled you close so your head was resting on his chest.

He kissed the top of your head and ran his fingers up and down your arm. "I want you to come with us," he said suddenly.

"What?" you asked in surprise as you looked up at him.

"I want you to come hunt with Sam and I...permanently."

"Are you--are you sure?"

"I told you this was real for me, baby. I want to try this with you, and that means you should be with me. I mean--if you want."

You smiled at him and touched his cheek gently. "I would love to go with you."

He grinned happily and kissed you sweetly. "Excellent. I'm sure Sam won't mind."

"As long as we get our own room, I'm sure he won't," you teased.

He laughed. "Oh yeah, we're gonna need that."

You smiled and kissed his chest softly. You yawned and curled further into him, exhaustion finally weighing you down.

"Go to sleep baby. I'll be right here when you wake up," Dean whispered.

You fell fast asleep in Dean's arms and he watched you for a while before sleep finally came to him. He hadn't felt so full and happy in a long time and it was one hundred percent because of you. He felt honored you were willing to give a relationship with him a chance, despite everything that had happened between the two of you in the past. He was determined to do everything he could to make sure you never regretted that decision.

Buy Me a Coffee 💜

[littleenglishfangirl]

Switch up - Robert 'Bob' Floyd x f!Reader

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x f!reader Word Count: 1,703 Request: @shinzowosasageyoooo : can I request a bob x f!reader who also wears glasses? ✨ Warnings: use of y/n, a few minors swears, mild passing reference to sex at the very end, female reader who wears glasses full-time Notes: As someone who has reccently started to wear glasses for the first time, this request was so much fun! This is a little short and sweet, but I am fully planning to do a second part (a prologue, if you will) detailing just how Bob mixed up his glasses. As always, please leave your feedback - I hope you enjoy! ~ Find my Masterlist Here

Out of the Dagger squad, Bob was usually the most put together. He prided himself on it, in fact. He was never late to anything, his uniform was always pristine, and he never held up training. Ever. 

Which is why he was so flustered today when he realised he hadn’t picked up the right glasses. While the prescription wasn’t too dissimilar, it was enough to throw off his depth perception and leave everything blurry enough that he couldn't quite make out the facial features of the people he was looking at. Still, wearing your glasses was better than no glasses at all for the time being, he supposed. That was until he borderline walked into the classroom door when he hadn’t realised that it wasn’t actually ajar. No, it was definitely tight shut. 

“Oh for god’s sake,” he mumbled as he reached for the handle and pushed it open, his cheeks flushing as who he could make out to be Phoenix, Rooster, and Hangman already in there waiting for him, each one looking up at him confused. He slunk into the nearest seat he could find. 

“You good?” Bradley asked, mildly amused. 

“All fine,” he huffed out, taking the glasses off for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. The headache should have been more than enough for him to realise that persevering with his girlfriend's glasses wasn’t going to be such a good idea after all. 

“New glasses?” Nat quizzed him as she moved to sit at a desk nearby. 

“Not intentionally” he squinted a little, still trying to adjust as he slid the frames back onto his face. “They aren’t mine.” 

“Then why are you wearing them?” Rooster asked with a bemused smile, he too taking his seat as Coyote, Payback and Fanboy joined them. 

“Because I haven’t had time to go back and find mine, and my spare pair broke last week during dogfight football.” 

“So, whose are they?” 

The answer to that would have been a lot easier had the others known that he was seeing someone, let alone seeing you, their resident CNA analyst – and a civilian contractor. I.E. not someone pilots should be sleeping next to on a nightly basis. 

He opened his mouth to try and bullshit an answer, lips parting and closing a few times as he tried to come up with an excuse that sounded both realistic while avoiding making him look like too much of an idiot to give Jake any more fuel for lighthearted mockery.

To say he was thankful for the arrival of Admiral Simpson and Maverick was an understatement, forcing them all to stand to attention and shut up. 

“Good morning, you can sit. Change of plans, Y/n has an important briefing today, so we are switching to basic manoeuvres practise. Wheels up in 30. Maverick will take you through the rest.”

Bob cleared his throat awkwardly, “I’m not fit to fly, sir’ 

“What do you mean you’re not fit to fly?” 

Bob swallowed, “I’m wearing the wrong glasses. I can’t see very well.” 

“Shouldn’t you have thought of that before putting them on?” He could hear Jake trying to hold back a snigger in the seat behind him, only making his cheeks redder. 

“It wasn’t intentional. There was a mix up.” 

“Well, fix it. You have 20 minutes.” 

Bob nodded curtly before Cyclone left again. He waited a few seconds before almost bolting for the door. 

“Does anyone think those glasses look familiar?” Jake perked up as soon as he left the room. 

Payback leaned back in his chair, “Oh for sure.”

“I’m following him.”

“You can’t do that!” Nat protested.

“I can, and I will.” Jake stood and started for the door,

“We do have some training to do, you know,” Mav’s voice called after him. 

“10 minutes, max. It is important to the integrity of the team” Jake compromised like a schoolboy, a smirk breaking out on his face when Pete nodded reluctantly. “Are you coming?” he turned to the others, to which Nat, Bradley, and Reuben stood. 

***

How he managed to find his way to your office without knocking three things over and face planting he wasn't too sure, but he found himself standing outside nonetheless, wrapping his knuckles against the wood and praying your meeting hadn’t started yet.

“Oh thank god,” you sighed as you opened the door to him. “We swit-”

“Switched glasses. I noticed,” Bob chuckled as he squinted down to you. “I would say you look cute in my glasses but I can’t see a damn thing,” he said with a laugh, reaching to pluck them off of your face and switch them, handing yours back to you. Blinking a few times he finally adjusted, realising just how close you were standing to one another as he leaned against your doorframe. “Hey,” he murmured, smiling as you both finally adjusted to being able to see again. 

“Hey to you too,” you said quietly with a smirk, stilling for a moment to simply admire him in the empty corridor – or seemingly empty corridor. 

**

“Holy shit, how did Baby on Board end up with Y/n’s glasses?” Jake asked way too loud, prompting a firm elbow to the ribs from Rooster as he shushed him, 

“Nevermind that, how did Bob end up WITH y/n?” Rooster asked as the three of them peeked around the corner, like terrible spies in a comedy movie.

“With?” Reuben perked up,

“You’re telling me that’s a simple friendly conversation?” Bradley raised an eyebrow.

“Well maybe if they both can’t see they gotta stand that close to make sure it’s the right person?”

Payback’s reasoning might have made sense had you not leaned up onto your tiptoes and placed a quick kiss to Bob’s lips, only for him to grab your waist and pull you back into him, keeping your lips against yours as you went to pull away. Your quiet giggle sounded down the otherwise abandoned corridor until you pushed him away gently with a hand on his chest. 

“What did I just say!” their collective jaws dropped. 

Jake scoffed, “I’ve been trying for weeks, what the hell does Bob have I don’t?”

“A charming personality? Manners? The list goes on, really” Nat rolled her eyes, prompting him to look at her disgruntled. 

“Fuck, he’s turning around - go, go!” Bradley whisper shouted as you pecked Bob on the cheek once more and gently pushed him back over the threshold of your office as he playfully tried to stay closer to you, jokingly pouting as you closed the door behind you. 

***

“She told me they couldn’t date students as contractors,” Jake continued to moan all the way back to the locker rooms, and then some more as they climbed into their flight gear. 

“It didn’t stop me,” Pete chimed in. Jake shot him an appreciative look, eyebrow raised at the lore.

“I think she meant she couldn’t bring herself to date you,” Bradley poked. 

“Who’s dating who?” Bob inquired as he entered the locker room. 

He turned around to look at them all when he got no response, brows furrowing a little when he found them all staring at him. 

“We could ask you the same question.”

Bob's cheeks tinged pink, “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he said with an awkward chuckle.

“Oh I often kiss Y/n on the way out of the classroom, it’s a formality,” Fanboy teased, turning back to changing with a grin. Bob’s cheeks darkened as he stammered 

Pete clapped him on the back, “don’t listen to him, Bob. It’s none of our business.”

“Baby is sleeping around with our instructors? I’d say that’s our business – I need to know his secret before my reputation is ruined,” Jake pushed.

“We are not sleeping around,” Bob insisted, his grip tightening on his locker door and his jaw clenching as he realised they had caught on. He stilled for a moment before deflating, exhaling a heavy breath and pushing his locker door open fully, allowing them to see the inside. Sure enough, taped to the door, was a picture of you wearing one of his Navy training shirts, wrapped up in his arms on the porch swing of his parents house. His mom had taken it around a year ago when you both had corresponding time off and he had taken it from base to base with him ever since. There was another polaroid just above it of you sat in his seat in an F-18 back at Lemoore where you had met, his helmet slightly too big for your head as you pretended to mess with the controls, the biggest grin on your face. He had written the date on with a marker at the bottom, along with a small heart. The edges were starting to peel from where he had repeatedly thumbed it on long missions, or had it jammed into the dash of his plane for good luck. 

“Happy?” 

The stunned silence was enough of an answer as he pulled the locker door to again to start getting dressed. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Hangman whistled lowly. “How long have you two been a thing?” 

“Three years in October.” 

“Shit, sorry for hitting on your girl, man. I had literally no idea.” For once, Jake’s apology sounded genuine and Bob offered him a small appreciative nod. 

“It’s okay, I knew you didn’t have a chance.” Bob busied himself with his suit so as to hide his smirk as Hangman’s jaw dropped open, Rooster clapping him on the back as he cackled hysterically. 

Extra:

“So, how did you end up with her glasses this morning?” Jake asked as they headed back in from training, still unable to let the whole debacle go.

“Yeah thinking about it, I’m sure you had yours on at breakfast in the mess?” Nat added without thought.

Bob's cheeks flushed a deep red again as he avoided both of their gazes, choosing to plead the fifth instead. 

“Holy shit, Bob fucks!” Jake called out as the realisation dawned on him. “And on the compound too. You sly dog.” 

He didn’t even bother fighting the accusations. A small, sly smirk settling on his lips instead. 

[Part 2/Smutty prologue]

[lulunothulu]

“What’s wrong, dear?”

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake knows something’s wrong so he makes it his life’s mission to 1. Make it better and 2. Find out what’s wrong.

Content: 18+ ONLY, sad boi hours, soft Jake, FLUFF, cuddling turned into cock warming, p in v sex, unprotected sex.

Masterlist here 💗🤠

Jake had a pretty normal day at work. Nothing compared to the week before, but still pretty okay.

He’d just parked in the driveway, sighing as he finally sees his home. Y’all’s home.

Texas flag hanging proudly on a hook out front, white picket fence closing intruders out of y’all’s space.

The house itself wasn’t anything special, just a bungalow by the beach. What made it special was you. The warmth and light you brought in with just a smile could’ve lit the whole house.

That’s why when he enters the house and finds nothing but darkness and silence, he knows something’s wrong.

Kicking off his boots at the entryway, Jake looks around the house for any signs of you.

Your purse is on the table by the door, keys along with it. Your shoes, required for any Naval Medic, lined by his own boots. Your uniform shirt was neatly thrown on the couch a little walks away from the front door, pants in tow.

You were never home before he was, only on rare occasions so that didn’t throw him off. What threw him off was in the distance, Jake heard soft sniffles coming from your room.

Carefully, Jake padded toward the room, worry increasing deep in his chest.

“Darlin’?” He drawled, pushing the door to y’all’s bedroom open.

Curled up on the bed you lay, soft sniffles filling Jake’s ears.

Instantly, Jake is by your side. To hell with showering, you were all he needed to focus on.

“Baby?” He soothes your head, brushing your hair back and away from your face. Your face was splotchy, eyes rimmed red and lips puffy from crying.

“What’s wrong, dear?” he asks, patiently waiting for your sweet voice to respond.

But you don’t.

You just lay there, staring beyond you, eyes emotionless.

Fear began to creep into Jake’s mind. He knew you’d seen some things on your last deployment, but you never spoke of it. He could only imagine you were having another PTSD episode. The last one being a few months ago.

Wrapping his strong arms around your form, Jake nuzzles his face into your neck. “Darlin’, you gotta tell me what’s bothering you…please?”

Again, nothing.

Jake’s mind begins to race, he hated seeing you so low. He had to do something to make you feel better, but before he could even do that he had to figure out what was going on.

“Baby, is this about your deployment?” He asks softly.

You shake your head, no.

Jake sits up, looking down at you again. Life creeps back into your eyes but you’re still staring off beyond you.

Okay, so it wasn’t whatever happened during your deployment.

“Is it work?” He asks.

You sigh before croaking, “No.”

The sound of your voice was like music to his ears. He breathed a sigh of relief at that, thinking of his next best thing to ask.

“Are you just having a bad day?”

When you nod and hum a ‘mhmm’, Jake almost rejoices. He’d finally gotten an answer. Now to cheer you up.

“Tell me what happened today,” he half orders, half asks. “C’mon, talk to me baby.”

You turn to face him, finally resting those beautiful eyes on his sage green ones.

Jake wipes a tear that falls from your eyes, patiently waiting for your response.

He watches as you take a shaky breath before you finally spill.

“It started this morning,” you recounted.

——— This morning ———

You were already running late.

Your alarm hasn’t woken you up and while Jake’s alarms—yes plural alarms—usually do the trick for you, you were so tired from the day before, you barley felt when he kissed you goodbye.

By the time you were dressed and out the door, you were running ten minutes late.

You sprint into the hospital where you worked, smiling as your supervisor, Captain Holt, raised a bushy brow at you.

“You’re ten minutes late,” he states.

“I know, sir,” you say at attention. “My alarms didn’t go off.”

“Hmm,” he hums, looking you up and down. “Since you’re never late, I’ll let you off with a warning. But do not let it happen again, Lieutenant Seresin.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” You reply, saluting when he dismisses you and walking to your station.

You sigh, realizing your forgot coffee this morning so you go to the break room to grab a cup before you settle back into your station.

However, after you made a cup, you’re bumped into on the way back to your station. Coffee spills down the front of your uniform shirt as you mentally scream.

“Watch where you’re going,” you yell at whoever just bumped into you.

You turn around to see a Petty Officer with wide eyes stare back at you.

“I’m so sorry, Lieutenant!” She cries, standing at attention and saluting you. “There’s a trauma coming in and Lieutenant Briggs said to grab some—”

“It’s fine, just don’t let it happen again,” you tell her. “Wait, a trauma so early in the morning?”

“Yes, one of the Aviators had an accident,” she tells you. “It’s sounds really bad.”

The only thing you can think of is Jake. Your mind was whirling, praying to whatever God that’ll listen, begging for it not to be Jake.

“Was it a male or female?” You ask.

“Wha—”

“Answer the question!” You order.

“A f-female,” she tells you.

Heart starting to slow, you nod. “Alright, go ahead, Petty Officer…” you glance down at her name tag. “Vincent.”

You go back into the break room after she scurries away, grabbing the backup shirt you keep for times like this and choke down a sob.

It could’ve been Jake. But it wasn’t.

You take the deep breaths your therapist showed you how to do to calm yourself and wipe away any lingering tears before making another coffee and finally making it to your station.

Hours later, it’s three hours before the end of your shift when you respond to another trauma. This time a male who no one can recognize. In the back of your mind, you can hear yourself say, “It’s Jake this time. It’s Jake.”

After a few rounds of CPR, the aviator is pronounced dead, sending you into a panic. When a nurse tells you the name of the aviator though, you have to excuse yourself.

It wasn’t Jake, but it could’ve been him. God knows he’s got a cockiness to his flying ability.

You’d told him multiple times he has to fly safer. Especially after what happened with his last back seater. Even more after that last mission when he saved Pete and Bradley, you’d almost broken down in thanks that he came back home.

You knew the risks in being married to an Aviator, but with the things you saw at work and again on your deployment almost two years ago…you couldn’t help but think negatively every time a trauma came in.

“Seresin?” You hear your colleague, Lieutenant Casey, say. Her voice traveling to your ears in the quiet locker room.

You sniffle, wiping your eyes dry with the back of your palm. “Hey, sorry. I just needed some time to catch my breath.”

You look up at her from where you sit, knees to your chest.

“Hey, I talked to the Captain,” she starts, voice soft and soothing. “He said you can go home early. I’ll cover your patients.”

“Are you sure?” You ask feeling the tears threaten to reappear.

“Of course,” she tells you. She had lost her wife, an aviator, years ago and knew what it was like to worry. “You go home, meet your husband when he gets back.”

You thank her, hugging her tightly before grabbing your things and going home.

——— Now ———

“So I came home, and out your clothes on,” you tell Jake. “I wanted to be close to you.”

Jake’s heart ached for you. He couldn’t imagine what you were feeling and he mentally kicked himself in the balls for ever making you worry.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he tells you, smoothing your hair back. “I have been flying a bit more carefully now so you don’t worry so much.”

You smile up at him and he can feel the worry he once felt disappear in the instant your lips formed the smile.

“Good,” you hiccup.

“Is there anything I can do to do?” Jake asks, willing to do anything and everything to make things better for you today.

You scrunch you nose and sniff. “You can go shower before you stink up the bed and then come cuddle me.”

Jake laughs at that, kissing your forehead before whispering, “I’ll be right back.”

Jake showers, scrubbing the jet fuel and grime from the day off his body and sighing. He was glad you tips him what happened and why you were so upset. He couldn’t wait to get out of the shower to hold you in his arms.

While he couldn’t wait, he made sure to scrub himself clean twice…just in case.

Walking back into y’all’s room, Jake smiles when he sees you’ve taken off the sweats you were wearing—now only in his shirt and your underwear— and eyeing him with hungry eyes.

He quickly grabs a pair of boxer briefs, not bothering with a shirt before climbing into bed. He takes you into his arms, letting your leg fall onto his legs and wrap around one. You place a hand on his lightly hairy chest and sigh.

“What is it, Darlin’?” He asks.

“You’re not close enough,” you tell him.

Jake chuckles, as you nuzzle your face into his neck, feeling you breathe him in.

“What do you suppose you need?” he asks, knowing where this might lead.

“Can I lay on top of you?” You ask.

“You don’t even need to ask.” Jake pulls you onto him, your body warm and legs opening to straddle him.

Your head is on his chest, belly right on top of his semi hard-on. He places his hands on the small of your back, lightly rubbing circles with the tip of his fingers. Almost as he predicted, you scoot higher, face now in his hair by his ear—and you begin nibbling on his lobe.

He groans into your hair, sniffling the sweet scent of your shampoo and hands trailing down to your ass, squeezing softly. When he feels the warmness of your ever growing wet cunt, Jake has to remind himself that he’s meant to be making you feel better.

Sex shouldn’t be on his mind…but then you grind on him.

“Darlin’,” he starts, licking his lips. “What do you need? Use your words.”

You pull away from his ear, looking down at him with those sultry eyes you only use when you’re wanting to get your way.

“I want you inside me,” you tell him.

Jake’s heart—and dick—was pulsing. It’s taking everything in him not to just take you right then and there. But he was a gentleman—for the most part—and he needed to wait for further instructions.

“Anything you want, my love,” he replies.

“But…” And there was the catch. “I only want to warm your cock.”

Jake swallows, it’s been a while since you cock-warmed him. That turned into hardcore sex, but that was another day.

This was now, and you were in need of intimacy. There would be no fucking tonight.

At least, that’s what he told himself to keep calm.

Jake nods at you, watching as you crawl off him and remove the soft fabric from your hips so slowly, he thought you were moving in slow motion.

But no.

You were doing it on purpose. The little smirk on your face said it all.

Jake stripped the boxers off his body, his cock flinging from his enclosure and beckoning you closer.

Painfully, you slowly climb back onto the bed, Jake’s shirt still on and nipples pebbled. You straddle Jake’s hips, your warm cunt flush with his extremely hard erection, and lean down to kiss him for the first time since he got home.

The kiss is soft but passionate on its own—barely a whisper of a peck.

Jake is fighting for his life. It’s taking everything in him not to line himself to your entrance and pull you down onto him.

You’re being a good husband right now. Calm down.

Jake watches as you pull away, one hand on his chest the other grabbing his cock and guiding the tip into your pussy.

He groans when the tip of him is finally inside you, vowing not to move until—and if—you wanted him to.

You, in turn, look down at him. Pride and love radiating from those beautiful eyes of yours as you take the rest of his cock, sighing at the way he fills you up completely.

You lay back down on Jake’s chest, him wrapping his arms you again and tracing down your back to your plump ass.

He feels you clench around him and sucks in a breath.

“Are you okay, baby?” You ask, blinking up at him with innocent eyes.

“Mhmm,” Jake mutters. “Never better.”

Jake feels you smile into his chest as you kiss his collarbone and neck.

“What?” You tease. “Did I do something?”

You knew exactly what it was doing to him and he was loving it…for the most part.

Jake looks down at you, finding you already smiling up at him from behind your lashes as you place a kiss on his chest.

Jake’s body was burning, no, itching to move. He willed his hips to buck into you, to free him from your torment.

But he wouldn’t. Not until you gave him the okay.

“Did I,” you start, clenching around him again. “Do something?”

Jake groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head and bottom lip between his teeth.

“You know,” he starts, stopping to suck in another breath and groan when you clench again. “Exactly what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

You smile up at him and he swears he can see pure mischief behind them.

This is what he got for marrying a woman who matched his freak.

You sit up, fully taking him again. He watches as you remove his shirt and toss it to the side of the bed, eyes solely on him.

You lean in, pulling Jake about halfway out, before kissing him.

Your lips were like heaven to him, sweet and pillow soft against his thin ones. Your bare chest pressed against his own, warming him up more than he already was.

When you begin to move your hips, Jake’s eyes to the back of head, soft moans escaping his lips and crashing into yours.

You smile, working your magic and hips you slowly allow him to enter and exit you.

“Does my cunt feel nice?” You ask against his lips and Jake nearly chokes.

“Fuck yes baby,” he responds, squeezing your ass.

You moan as his touch and buck your hips a bit faster, pure fire and pleasure erupting into Jake’s stomach.

“How much do you love me?” you ask him.

Good God, you were going to kill him with that sweet voice of yours.

“I love you so much,” Jake replies, squeezing your ass even harder.

“Good,” you smile. “Do you want to move?”

Jake only nods, eyes wide and on yours. He watches as you smile, slowing your pace and leaning in so close, he can feel your breath on his ear.

“Do you want permission to move, Aviator?”

God, yes. Jake nods.

You click your tongue, pulling him out completely. Jake whines, pushing down on your ass to press you on him again. But you keep away, his dick tickling your belly.

“Use your words,” you command.

Jake swallows, eyes squeezing before locking on yours again. Pure burning desire leaks out of them and he watches as you squirm under his dark gaze.

“Please let me fuck you,” he says, deep and loud, just how he knows you like it.

The look on your face tells him you’re about to sink back into him when you bite your bottom lip and smirk, nodding fiercely.

Jake moves to action, flipping you on your back and lining himself back up to your still soaking cunt. He smiles down at you, pushing only the tip into your tight entrance and watching your eyes widen in pleasure.

“Now it’s my turn,” he says darkly.

You smile up and him and Jake nearly combusts at the way your lashes flutter.

“Tell me how deep you want me,” he orders.

“All the way in baby,” you tell him.

“How deep is that?” He smirks.

You’re about to answer when he fills you completely, stretching you until his whole cock rests inside you. Your mouth opens, an O forming on your pretty lips.

“Good girl,” Jake starts, pumping into you slowly then faster when he feels you relax around him. “Taking my cock like such a good wife.”

Your moans fill the room, causing Jake to buck into you, tip to base. He knows he’s hitting the right spot when your eyes squeeze shut and you begin whispering his name.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me,” he orders, watching as your eyes fly open. “And say my name louder, scream it if you must.”

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“I don’t think that’s my name, Sweetheart.” Jake chuckles.

“Fuck Jake!” You moan.

“There it is. You sound so fucking pretty when you moan my name.”

As if on cue, you moan his name again, practically babbling and repeating it over and over again.

“Jake, Jake, Jake!” You moan, tits bouncing at the jolting Jake was putting them through.

“Are you close, my sweets?” He asks, rubbing his thumb against your clit and feeling your clench around him.

“I’m so fucking close,” you scream. “I’m gonna come!”

“No,” he orders. “You wait for me. Be a good girl and wait for me.”

You’re a mess beneath him, nails scraping his chest and legs, eyes wild and pleading to come.

He wouldn’t let you, not until he felt—

Jake’s vision began to blur, he was tasting stars at this point and he knew he was just about ready to burst.

“Now, baby! Come with me babygirl!” He orders.

With your eyes still on his, Jake feels you begin to spasm and orgasm, his coming along side yours.

You both ride the waves of your orgasm, breathing heavily and chests pounding.

Jake bucks his hips, spilling himself inside you before slowly stopping, forehead touching yours.

Kissing you deeply, he slowly pulls out of you hearing you groan against his lips.

He quickly pulls away, grabbing a washcloth before helping you clean yourself up and carrying you to the shower.

Jake washes you, carefully massaging your swollen cunt before rinsing you and washing himself quickly.

He wraps you in a towel, pay drying you the way you’d taught him years ago, and then drying himself as you watch from the counter.

Once he was dry, he dressed you in his favorite Texas Longhorns shirt and underwear before getting himself dressed and quickly changing the sheets.

He lays you in bed before climbing in himself, arms wrapping around your body again.

“Jake,” you whisper.

“Yes, my love?”

“I love you so much,” you tell him. “Thank you for making my day better.”

Jake smiles into your neck, kissing you lightly before responding, “I love you too, Y/N. And I’ll always be here to make your day better.”

He falls asleep to the sounds of your breathing and soft hums of delight and contentment.

Mission accomplished.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— BORN FOR LOVING YOU

REQUEST : “Omg do you think you Could do the whole gets caught reading smut but with Sam instead please!!!” — @bookobsessedfreak

PAIRING : sam winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : dean winchester

WARNINGS : nsfw(18+), fluff, smut, fingering, praise kink, pussy slapping, cum kisses, unprotected sex (Sam’s too smart for that, no smooth brains allowed), rough sex, dom!sam, awkwardness

WORD COUNT : 5.3k

A/N : surprise for the sam girlies! title from big thief’s song. i never imagined I’d end up writing for sam, but hey, he’s so silly, I loved writing him. saw the book Chasing Love by Kat T. Masen on an Instagram reel LOL and it inspired this. I hope this is what you were expecting <333

Sam knew you loved reading. He never asked what it was read despite the obviously exotic covers on the books you carried around.

He stared at you when you opened them up shamelessly in front of him, watching the expressions on your face. He noticed when you’d bite your lip at a certain page, the slack-jawed focus when you really settled into it, the consideration as your eyes trailed away after rereading a section, and the confusion that furrowed your brows at other times.

He thought you looked cute. The blush that settled over your face was hard to hide, as the soft locks of your hair curtained your face. Other times you’d giggle, a sound that he loved hearing from you, and you’d slam the book down, startling him and Dean. Then, you’d compose yourself with a polite smile and a clear of your throat when Sam raised a brow at you. When Dean tried to take the book from you to see what excited you, you’d snatch it up off the table away from his grasp and he’d stick his tongue out at you before refocusing on the movie he was watching on his laptop.

Sam liked those moments: while he was absorbed in his research, you were reading and giggling, and Dean would roar out a laugh at the videos he’d watch. It was comfortable to be surrounded by his girlfriend and his brother, at peace for a few moments at least.

You were secretive about your books at first, and if it wasn’t for Dean, you never would’ve started to be comfortable about it.

Dean was like a brother to you and you loved him to death.

He found out about your book when he dug into your bag after you asked him to take a shirt out for you after your shower. When he felt the hard surface of a book, he was intrigued. Why would you carry around a book in your bag? He’d never seen you read, never saw you write in a journal, so he pulled it out for a quick peek, but he instead began to read the book which was underneath the stack of shirts you kept inside.

You’d stepped outside the bathroom in annoyance, shouting at Dean for taking so long. You stared at Dean with wide eyes and red face when you saw the familiar book in his hands. He’d closed it and then laughed at you, settling it down deep inside your bag, before handing you a shirt.

“You and Sammy must have lots of fun…” he’d joked thoughtlessly, then he grimaced when you snatched the shirt from him with a glare. “Actually, I don’t wanna think about that,” he frowned and shook his head, turning away when you silently asked for privacy.

“I’m never asking you for a favour,” you grumbled, throwing the towel to the floor when you put her clothes on.

“What? Why?” Dean complained, turning to look at you carefully. “So you read porn? Whatever, man! Have you seen the magazines in my room? Or the porn I leave open on Sam’s computer?” At that, he snickered and you gave him a pointed look, starting to brush your partially dry hair to detangle it.

He sighed and sat down on the bed in front of you, biting his lip as he thought about what to say. You were pretty shy sometimes, but feisty, he didn’t know why you’d be ashamed or embarrassed about porn. It’s not like you were a virgin, or like you and Sam hadn’t done the deed plenty of times.

“Do you really think me or Sam actually care that you wanna read stuff like this?” He asked, watching you slowly move your gaze to his. “Sam has porn under his bed, I’m sure you know, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Neither of us are gonna judge you, okay?”

“I know that,” you chuckled, shrugging. You set the brush down and sighed, thinking about why you feel embarrassed by it when you know how weird Dean’s taste in porn is and that Sam isn’t as much of a prude as everyone thinks he is. “I guess… maybe I’m not very comfortable with myself and sex.. I don’t know, it’s weird,” you admitted, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Hey,” Dean said, getting you to look up at him, “that’s fine. You just gotta get used to it, and uh, seriously, don’t hide what you like, okay? I’m sure it’ll make stuff between you and Sam… uh, spicier? Ah, shit, that’s gross.. maybe uh, more transparent? You know what I mean,” Dean rambled, slapping your knee very hard.

You laughed and shoved him away, considering his words as he got up with a chuckle to get back to cleaning the guns.

That was the start of your journey with being comfortable about sex. It really made you feel better. At first, as you tested the waters, you’d join in on whatever sexual innuendo Dean dropped, he’d been stunned by your lewdness, but he laughed anyway. Sam chuckled softly, for the first time, and it made Dean pick a fight with him for it.

You and Dean became close, definitely started to compete on who could be dirtier, with Sam either uncomfortable or red in the face from the things that were coming out of your mouth. Dean encouraged you, dared you to tease Sam, confident and sultry, until you left him speechless, flustered, and horny.

It was a game for you now, something fun and without shame. You’d never been more comfortable with yourself and sex like you were now, realising and learning things about yourself that you didn’t know and finding out what you liked with Sam.

It brought the two of you closer, somehow, and it was amazing. Sam wasn’t complaining either, at least not when it was just the two of you. It was a whole new level of love and romance you’d reached together, a level neither of you were aware was waiting for you to discover.

So, here he was, sitting in the dark library with your newest book, only a lamp at the table lighting up the text. Dean had gone out to meet some girl he’d been texting for a few days for a quick fuck. You were hanging out with your friends, catching up with them after a long time of not having seen each other.

Sam had gone out to buy groceries in the meantime, trying to get his mind off those books that clearly drove you crazy, but by the end of all the chores—the cleaning, the organising, the clothes washing—he had nothing to do but wait for you to get back.

He scrolled through news articles on his laptop, checked his phone multiple times for any new messages, but he evenly gave up on his restraint. With a long sigh of frustration, he made his way to your room, stared at your neat shelf and picked out the book you’d recently received from one of your girlfriends.

He snorted as he looked over the cover, Chasing Love. He hesitated as he quickly flipped through the book, the smell of crisp, new paper wafting up to his nose. He guiltily turned around after carefully reading the Blurb in the first few pages, walking out of your room with the book in hand.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to read it at first. He kept it beside him as he boredly scrolled through lore, but he’d glance at it in between tasks and his heart thumped in his chest, heat flooding his body.

He squirmed in his seat and grabbed the book without a second thought, searching for the first chapter, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. He huffed out a breath and cleared his throat, looking around as if Cas would pop in and catch him in the middle of this.

He slowly started to settle into the book, his laptop shut off after fifteen minutes and he was already absorbed into the book, the words and the characters starting to flow through his imagination.

His eyes trailed away from the words sometimes, replaying the first sex scene in his mind as himself and you. He wondered if you liked it, how it’d make you feel if he did it, and why you never brought any of this up when it was this hot.

The memory of your warm skin beneath his hands and your soft lips moulding against his made his cock stir. He chewed on his lip and continued to read, recomposing himself, thinking of you the whole time.

As he read, page by page, he tried to remember what you looked like when you read this. He remembers the frustration making you frown, irritation making you roll your eyes and set the book down, how you did lots of thinking on certain pages while biting your lip or with disgust written on your face, and the arousal flustering you. He understood now which parts intrigued you and why.

The book was infuriating at times and the main characters irked him, but he couldn’t stop and just wanted to get to the end. Unfortunately, the universe had other plans, and the metallic door of the Bunker’s entrance groaned loudly, snapping Sam out of his daze.

He looked around, panicked and grabbed the book he was reading to hide it in between all the other books on the shelves. He scrambled back to his seat as the door slammed shut and turned his laptop on, settling into his chair to pretend he was still working on research.

His stomach fluttered when you shouted his name playfully, the tune of a song sweetening your voice. You sounded happier, relaxed, and he smiled, standing up to meet you where the war table lit up at the bottom of the staircase.

He greeted you with a kiss on the lips, sweet and quick, but your hands held his jaw in place and you pushed yourself up on your toes to kiss him harder. He moaned softly, pressing his hands into the small of your back so you were squished against him completely.

“Hi,” you whispered against his lips. He gave you a softer kiss and smiled lovingly at you, wrapped one of his arms around you to keep you close and raised his hand to cup the side of your face.

“Hey, how’d it go?” He leaned down to kiss you again before you answered, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek.

“Really great, I guess I really needed that,” you admitted, closing your eyes to his touch. “I did miss you though. I’m so used to spending every second of my life with you.” Your eyes fluttered open and he was already gazing at you, admiring you.

You didn’t always have time to get dolled up with hunting taking up most of your time, and if you’re ever pretending to be professionals, you keep the makeup natural and to a minimum. But right now, you looked fantastic, your beauty was enhanced by colours of your makeup that brought out the parts of you that he adored the most.

On top of that, the dress you wore was sexy and tight, wrapping around your curves and the dips of your body deliciously, your cleavage pushed up so seductively with the bra you chose to wear underneath. You were radiant with happiness and warmth, your shoulders and face relaxed in ways he hadn’t seen in such a long time. Hunting was really wearing you all down, he figured he should consider taking a break, too, with you for a while. Maybe even just one day.

“I missed you too,” he told you gently.

“How much?” You asked with a smirk, pressing your palms against his firm chest and sliding down to the hem of his grey v-neck. He smirked at you, then blushed and chuckled, dipping his chin to avert his gaze.

“Well, I do wanna take all your clothes off now that I’ve admired you in it,” he murmured, looking down at you intently. You grinned up at him, warmth blossoming in your stomach. Your breath clogged your throat when you felt his fingers tangle in the hair at the back of your neck, tugging softly so your head would tilt back. Your flirtatious words died the moment his palm struck your ass, replaced by an aroused yelp.

He leaned down to kiss you once again, with more passion, nipping at your bottom lip until you whined. He palmed your ass teasingly, tugged harder at your hair so your hiss permitted his tongue to slip between your painted lips.

You clung to his hips desperately, your knees growing weak with each swipe of his soft tongue against yours. You pulled away with a gasp unable to breathe as he stole the breath from your lungs, but he didn’t care. He grazed your jaw with his teeth instead, and bit down roughly on your pulse, soft strands of his brown hair tickling your shoulder, making you shiver with desire.

“Please, fuck me, Sam,” you moaned, arching into him as he licked and sucked at the entice spot behind your ear. Your body burned and ached for his touch on your bare skin, your nipples tightened in the lace bra, your pussy clenching and weeping with desire.

He smirked against your skin, “I will, but let me enjoy this first, beautiful.”

You shuddered again at his warm breath tickling your skin, his lips ghosting above your collarbone, traced by his tongue. He pressed soft kisses downward, until he got to your breasts. His grip on your hair didn’t let up and the other hand slid down between your legs from behind, his middle finger teasing your entrance over your soaked panties.

“Oh, fucking fuck,” you whined, squirming in his grasp. He bit and sucked at your cleavage, marking you possessively, and untangled your hair from his hand so he could wrap it around his fist perfectly, tighter.

He pulled away from you completely, all of the sudden, leaving you cold. You forced your eyes open to stare up at him, flushing when his hazel eyes glossed over with carnality. You released his hips to clutch his shirt, readying to remove it from his body.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here,” he told you, his voice dripping with the same lust that washed over his eyes. You moaned before he tugged at your hair again, testing your reaction. You bit your lip and leaned back against the war table, begging with your eyes for him to go through with it.

Sam hummed softly, his fingers grazed your thigh, moved in between to playfully brush your clit over the lace of your underwear. You panted harder and faster with every passing second, his teasing fingers slipped inside your underwear, the elastic waistband stretching around his hand. You parted your legs desperately, your body singing with pleasure as his fingers dipped into your wet cunt, gathering up your juices to play with your pulsing clit.

“You get so wet so fast,” he praised, “it’s so fucking hot.” You moaned his name, felt your orgasm approaching faster than you’d liked, but he rubbed your clit so perfectly, just the way he knew you liked. He tugged at your hair roughly, forcing your eyes open once again when you tensed up the closer you got to finishing. “Come for me, you’re so gorgeous when you come,” he whispered, and you did.

You gasped his name and moaned loudly, quivering as your pussy clenched and unclenched around nothing. It always impressed you that Sam could make you come in less than five minutes. He bit his lip as he watched you, your jaw slack and brows furrowed as you stared back at him. His fingers circled slower, moving at the same pace as the slow of your orgasm.

“I can’t wait to strip you out of this tight little dress.” Sam dipped his fingers down to your entrance, pressed his fingers inside your clenching walls to feel your cum. The slick substance stuck to his fingers and he pulled his fingers out of your underwear and lifted them up to smear your arousal across your painted lips. “I can’t wait to play with your tits,” he murmured, pushing his fingers between your lips.

You stared at him seductively, lost in desire, completely unable to do anything but take what he gave you. You sucked on his fingers, moaned at the taste of yourself, and melted into a puddle of sin when he pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth, mimicking the movement of his cock when he’d fuck your face.

“I can’t wait to bury my cock inside your sweet pussy,” he groaned softly at the sight of you and pulled his fingers away to kiss the taste of you away. He sucked your lips fervently and licked wildly into your mouth, your hands subconsciously moving through his hair to tug almost as hard as he was tugging at yours.

He pulled away and panted aginst your mouth. He let go of your hair and reached beneath your dress to rip your panties off your body. All you could do was gasp. Then he reached up to unzip your dress, letting it fall around your feet. You kicked it away from you, stared at him expectantly and reached for his shirt.

“I need to feel you inside me now, Sam,” you whispered impatiently as you tugged his shirt upwards. He quickly slid it over his head and let it fall to where your dress was, you took the chance to admire his sturdy form. His hard abs became taught with every move and his sleep-pants hung low on his hips, the band of his boxers peeking above them. His hard cock easily tented the flimsy material, it made your mouth watered at the thought of tasting him and your pussy wanted to be stretched and filled. “Take everything off,” you ordered impatiently.

He wasted no time and shoved the garments down his legs without protest while you unclasped your bra expertly with one hand. All your clothes fell into a messy pile on the floor with your dress and ripped panties.

Once you stood naked in front of each other, it became a race of who would make the first move. Sam was faster than you, silencing your protests and subduing you with a hungry kiss. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, a painful type of pleasure that made you so impossibly horny you nearly considered coming on the spot from the feeling alone, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of his mouth.

Hot and wet, he stepped his mouth down to your chest, licked at your nipple and sucked the sensitive nubs until you were squirming. You indecisively pushed his head into your breasts and tugged it away by his hair so he’d lick you somewhere else.

Sam had already made up his mind about how the night would go and he turned you around so you faced away from him with the table beside you. You had nothing to stare at but the dark library. Your heels gave you some help when he reached for the back of your thigh and slid his hand down to wrap around your knee, lifting it up onto the edge of the table.

“You’re so desperate to be fucked, aren’t you?” He teased, massaging the globes of your ass. You twisted your body slightly, leaning over to press your hands flat on the table, your pussy tingling with anticipation of his next move.

“Please, I need you so bad, Sam,” you replied with a moan. He kept his hand on your hip and squeezed possessively. You felt two of his fingers prodding at your wet hole, slowly he pushed them into you and back out to infuriate you and make you needier. The pads of his long fingers brushed over the spongy spot against your walls repeatedly, and your legs shook on the table. With a curse you whispered Sam’s name again, hoping he’ll end the delightful torture as his fingers prepared you for him.

He pulled his fingers from within your heat, replacing them with his hot cock to slide through your folds from behind you without warning. You whimpered pathetically as the head of his cock teased your clit, your heart fluttered excitedly, and you reached back to curl your fingers around the back of his neck to pull him close.

“You feel so good, Sam,” you uttered breathlessly.

“Are you ready for me, gorgeous?” He asked, moving your hair out of the way to drop kisses along your shoulder. You moaned softly at his words, his smirk evident as he brushed his lips up to your neck.

“Yeah,” you whispered, desperately wanting to be filled, needing to be fucked, by him only.

You felt the prod of his cock at your entrance, teasing your entrance with a few circles before slowly pushing in. Your breath hitched and you ached to get closer, but he held you in place with a firm hand on your hip. You pulled at his hair, silently commanding him to relinquish control to fuck you the way you needed to be, but he continued to slide into you slowly, and back out slightly. It was almost enough to make you cum.

You felt embarrassed by how close you’ve been to your orgasm when Sam had barely done anything but graze your sweet spots. It wasn’t surprising, but it always caught you off guard how easily your body gave into him. Right now, you felt like exploding around his cock, the stretch of him around your walls, it all felt unbearably gratifying.

Once he was completely inside you, he barely gave you time to adjust before he began fucking you in earnest. It was quick and hot, the pump of his cock in and out of you. Loud and wet sounds resounded throughout the Bunker, your wet cunt being filled by his cock. It was pornographic.

His fingers dug roughly into the soft flesh of your hips, red stripes following his nails the harder he fucked you. He held you up with his arm around your waist, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, overwhelming your senses with endless pleasure. You all but moaned out your pleasure like a porn star, unashamed and so, so happy you two were alone.

The sounds just ripped out of you and he rewarded you with harsh bites wherever he could reach. His fingers found your breasts, squeezing and kneading, plucking your nipples and pinching them until you cried out his name begging for him to give you more.

His hot breath left your skin warm and damp, but it felt so good, he’d grunt your name into your neck, against your nape, until you felt tingles running up your spine. Sam was complete sin. His hips smacked loudly and roughly against your ass, too. The pain he made you feel was just a thin strip compared to the pleasure, and it was something he had mastered to drive you insane.

You didn’t need much more to orgasm and he must have known, he knew you so well. He dropped his hand from your breasts and smacked your clit so hard you walls tightened around him in surprise, and you whimpered loudly. A dark chuckle from Sam followed a second slap, but he soothed your swollen clit with messy circles that drove you over the edge to your orgasm unexpectedly.

“That’s right, come for me,” he whispered. His cock throbbed and twitched while you screamed his name. Your walls clamped down around him, and he continued to rub your clit as your arousal dripped down your thighs. “You’re all mine, baby… Fuck, I love you,” he grunted as he came inside you. He pushed himself as deep as he could, and the tip of his cock touched the deepest parts of you when he swivelled his hips with a moan, desperate to claim you. It drove you to your third orgasm, hot spurts of his cum filling you up erotically.

“You’re so sexy,” he praised, removing his fingers from your now sensitive clit. Your lungs burned and you tried hard to recover, but you were a puddle in his arms. All you could do was catch your breath and be astonished by your boyfriend’s ability to make you come with a few strokes inside you, and just with the feeling of his cum warming up your insides.

“Jesus Christ, Sam,” you said hoarsely. He laughed breathlessly, lovingly kissing the bruises and bite marks he left on your neck and back. “That was amazing,” you said with a smile, relaxing into him some more. He pulled off you instead, and you gasped when you felt his cum slide down the inside of your thigh. You clenched your legs to stop anymore from leaving you, and looked up at him.

He was glowing, his cheeks were pink and his lips were swollen and red. Why’d he make sex hair look so hot? His skin glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed with every little move he made. You were sure he could make you come again with just that look in his eyes, teasing and loving, slightly amused, but very arrogant.

It’s like he knew what you were thinking and was thinking it too.

He leaned down to kiss you, softly sucking on your bottom lip. You instantly reached up to thread your fingers through his hair, kissing him with as much passion as he poured into you. His fingers trailed up the inside of your thighs and he groaned softly, prying your legs open to shove his cum inside you.

He pulled away from your lips and got down onto his knees to kiss your pelvis, then your thighs, and you opened your legs to give him room. He fingered you slowly and you clung to his hair and onto the table to remain steady, whimpering when he sucked your sensitive clit into his mouth.

“Fuck, Sam,” you whispered, letting him angle your hips to shove his tongue into your pussy. He licked the mixture of your cum with a moan of satisfaction while his nose teased your clit. You could feel the slow and painful build of another orgasm as your pussy stretched around his tongue.

Unfortunately, he stood up and took your face in his hands to kiss you. You moaned in surprise, submissively allowing him to push his tongue into you. You tasted your release and his as soon as he did and your mouth watered. He tilted your head back, his tongue invading and exploring your warm mouth until the taste of the two of you had diminished.

He pulled away with a heavy breath and smiled down at you, watching your eyes flutter open. “Let’s get ready for bed,” he suggested, pushing strands of your hair away from your face. You licked your lips, same as him, and nodded, but first wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I’m gonna shower…” You murmured, pulling away from the embrace. He nodded and chewed on his lip. “Meet you in my room?” You beamed up at him and slowly pulled away, walking in the direction of the restroom.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll wait for you,” he smiled, reaching out for your arm to tug you back into him and leaning down to peck your lips. You laughed into the kiss and he finally let you go.

He picked up your clothes from the floor and started making his way to your room, putting on his clothes and putting yours in the hamper. He cleaned himself up before starting to prepare your stuff. Then, he waited for you in your bedroom with the lights on, preparing your bed, some clean clothes for you to sleep in, and even brought you a water bottle in case you needed it.

You returned quietly, flushed from the heat of your shower, wrapped only in a towel. He smiled at you when you called his name softly and got up from the bed to kiss you again. He admired you with a soft expression on his face when he pulled away. Without makeup, you still looked beautiful.

“I got everything ready for you, then we can do whatever you want,” he told you, tugging the towel out of its place. You laughed softly, letting him steal it from you so you could get changed.

“Thanks, Sam, I really appreciate it.” You got changed and looked around your room out of habit, boredly taking in your space to make sure you could actually relax. But you noticed that your books were slanted and fallen over to the side, one of your books was missing.

You stared at it thoughtfully, pulling your top over your head, trying to retrace your steps of the day for when you had misplaced it. When nothing came to mind, you asked, “did I put my book somewhere else?”

Sam’s jaw clenched and he froze, looking past you and at the shelf. He internally facepalmed and then shrugged, his heart racing nervously. “Um…” he started, then shifted, moving his hair out of his face. “Yeah, I don’t know, maybe,” he mumbled, averting his gaze and rubbing the back of his neck.

Your brow rose at his suddenly strange behaviour, but you thought nothing of it at first. You hummed thoughtfully and made your way back to Sam, who was still acting shifty, even as he handed you a water bottle. You took it silently and narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. He didn’t look at you at first, not when you opened the bottle slowly, or when you took a few gulps of it.

He pretended to busy himself with the sheets, lifting them up for you to sleep, but you knew now. He had something to do with it. So you grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you, and said, “Sam, I know you know.”

He broke easily, with a shy laugh. Instead of continuing to deny it, he looked down at his hands and nodded, “fine. Okay? I was curious about why you like them so much and I wanted to know what about them kept you excited… so I read a few chapters, and I wanted to try some stuff out… which you ended up liking,” he said the last part flirtatiously and your mouth dropped open in surprise.

You closed it and laughed, then pulled his face in for a kiss. He quickly dominated you, sucking on your tongue, making your breath hitch. You tugged at his hair and slid into his lap when he grabbed your hips and tugged you forward.

You pulled away from Sam’s sinful mouth, curiously and breathlessly asking, “you only read a few chapters?” He dove back in for a kiss and bit your lip sensually. He hummed a yes and then released your lip from between his teeth.

“Why?” He asked, a smug smirk on his face.

“You know why, there’s a lot more I thought was hot while imagining you doing it to me,” you replied shamelessly. He snorted and looked up thoughtfully, his thumbs sliding over the waistband of your underwear at the same time.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up slightly to make you fall onto the bed so you were laying on your back beneath his firm body. You puffed out a breath of surprise and smiled at him brightly.

“I should go get the book then.” He kissed your flushed cheek, then added, “I should consider reading all your favourite books. Don’t you agree?”

dean winchester version —> livin in you

taglist

main masterlist

sam winchester masterlist

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS 

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[uncouth-the-fifth]

playing house, p. 1 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3. masterlist.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (vaguely kripke era).

Tags/Warnings: childhood friends-to-lovers, fluff, pining, undercover as a married couple, miiiight count as case fic, couples cruises, wingman!Dean, mermaids, sexual innuendos.

Word Count: 12,305

Notes: hiiii! this is my first ever commission, courtesy of the lovely @daiziesssart, my muse! she asked for: "a case. undercover fake dating. pining. unrequited love (that actually is very much so requited). dean wanting to die at how oblivious they are. the drama!!!" and i responded in turn with mermaids, wingmanning, and sam in sandals. enjoy 🥰

Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you confessed, “but I love hunting.”

By millionaire standards, your cabin couldn’t exactly be called luxurious. Bobby had called in a favor to “win” your tickets on board, so it wasn’t like you were pouring money into an ultra-fancy suite or anything. But, still. The thousands of cruddy motel rooms you’d stayed in throughout your life suddenly seemed cruddier. All the furniture was rich, dark wood, bolted to the wall so it wouldn’t sway with the ship. Your cabin was heady with the smell of fresh laundry and chlorine. A set of glass sliding doors lead out to the deck, just a few steps away from a horizon filled end to end with the black, breathing, glittering sea. You didn’t even have to flip on the lights; the moon cast its full figure over the ocean, flushing your room with silver light. Being on a cruise ship all weekend was sweet enough on its own, but your room sealed the deal. This was the best hunt you’d ever been on. Period.

Sam peered in from over your shoulder, blinking fast in disbelief. You side-stepped so he could go in first, and Sam teetered in, weighed down by two armfuls of luggage and a strange emotion that neither of you could name. He stared round’ at your cabin for a long time, before finally thunking down his burden in the middle of the room. The ceiling was low enough to warrant him ducking his head a bit. You got the feeling Sam would duck his head anyway. Neither of you had ever slept in a room this nice before, on or off a hunt.

Hip-checking the door shut behind you, you flipped on the lights and gave him a moment to settle how he was feeling. Sam’s reflection in the mirror above the bed was quiet, pleased, and melancholy all at once, especially when he twisted back to smile at you.

“For once…” Sam said, “I think I might agree with you.”

With that, you fell into the familiar rhythm of unpacking your things, picking slowly through your room. It took four times longer than usual since Sam had never packed for a vacation before. It looked to you like he’d brought his entire life with him, and considering you’d done the same, you had two huge suitcases of bullshit and a duffle of gear that Bobby had smuggled in for you. Without Dean taking part in your new-motel-room ritual like he always did, things were… domestic. Sam put all of your toiletries next to his in your shared bathroom. You brushed your teeth together there, bumping shoulders and grazing each other when you used the faucet. Sam even gave you his pillow-mint (which was honestly something you thought hotels only did in the movies).

He was without question your best friend. You’d shared everything in your life with him since you were little, so none of the old motions should’ve felt different. But there was something new in all of it this time—sharing a bed, turning your back when the other changed in the same room—and you knew what it was, and Sam knew what it was.

For the weekend, at least, you’d have to get used to those feelings. This was a couple’s cruise, and the two of you had been cast as the couple.

Bobby and Rufus had pinned down this hunt a crazy long time ago. Two men, then three, then four, had all disappeared out to sea while on a couple’s cruise in the Hawaiian islands. The interesting part was that they’d apparently all gone willingly to their deaths—a number of witnesses had watched one victim go stumbling over the railing, and his wife claimed he’d heard singing in his final moments. All four men had been mending their relationships with wives they’d been unfaithful to. All four men had gone missing on the same massive boat, far too big for a two-person hunt. Bobby and Rufus needed people, and Dean had signed the three of you on the second he heard the phrase: “bloodthirsty mermaids luring men to their doom.”

You’d sat around Bobby’s kitchen in Dakota, strategizing and sipping beer. Mermaids had been hunted to near-extinction during the golden age of piracy (man, had Sam and Dean geeked out about that), but Rufus was confident that at least one of them was skulking around this cruise-line. Your primary weapon against them would be an amulet Bobby had collected, which would burn hot in the presence of a mermaid—and hopefully wouldn’t burn your collarbones too much when you wore it.

“The rest of us will be working on the crew, but… two of you are gonna pose as a couple,” Bobby had said.

Naturally, this was met with uproar. Dean smacked both hands down on your shoulders and shouted dibs, Sam whacked him across the back of the head for objectifying you, and you cackled, gloating over the sunbathing time you were sure to get regardless.

Bobby had to bark over the bickering. “Shut up, all of you! This isn’t some cutesy vacation—people are dying here. We aren’t getting a second shot at this. Now… Dean, Y/N?”

Dean had wiggled his fingers on your shoulders, brimming with excitement. Which, to your horror, slowly dawned into mischief. One of his hands had slid off you to clap Sam on the arm. You didn’t have to see Dean’s face to know he was grinning, all teeth, and in the moment you’d doomed yourself, certain that he wouldn’t give up a Hawaiian cruise for anything.

Except, apparently, to make you his sister-in-law.

“Actually, Bobby…” he hummed, making your stomach drop and your heart restart at the same time. “I think I’ll drop out to stick with you guys on the crew. M’ more cut out to gank mermaids, anyway, not futzing around in dad shorts. Sam can cover for me, can’t you, Sammy?”

He’d crossed his arms and sunk lower in his seat. “If Y/N’s comfortable with that.”

“I wo—” you started, but Dean’s booming laugh had rolled right over whatever you’d planned to say. “Oh, c’mon. You’d be way more comfortable strutting around as Sam’s girl, wouldn’t you?”

The roaring blush pushing against your skin was easier to suppress with your heel digging into Dean’s foot beneath the table. He pinched your shoulder hard, and there you played a silent, wincing game of chicken while Bobby and Rufus exchanged a very unsubtle glance.

“That’ll work,” Rufus had decided, stumbling over Bobby’s desperately-trying-to-be-neutral hums of approval.

“Perfect. Yep. That’ll be just perfect,” Bobby had nodded. They’d brushed their hands over their faces, trying to hide their knowing grins, and not for the first time, you wondered what it would take to convince Cas to wipe Sam’s memory of this moment. What, did everyone and their grandma know about your crush on him?

Now, rooted to the floor in thought, you found your gaze sliding to where Sam was shoving his shoes on at the end of his—your shared bed. You were both dressed in vacationers’ clothes. His hair was fluffy from the shower he’d indulged before you’d left, and after the eight-hour drive to port, sleep had softened his eyes and his brow. Sam scrubbed his eyes with his wrist, blinking slow. An anxious sinkhole opened in your chest. There wasn’t much you wouldn’t do to save some lives, but if you had to play a part, you didn’t want the price to be your friendship with him. It’d kept you alive for so long that you couldn’t picture what your life would be without it. Every inch of it was cliche and stupid, and of all people, Sam deserved to have that effort put in for him.

You rolled around everything you wanted to explain to him in your head, but none of it sounded right. Somehow, you landed on: “You think it’s gonna be weird, pretending to be married?”

Sam shrugged. “We did it all the time when we were kids, playin’ house.” He closed the zipper of his boot, flashing you an innocent smile. “Can’t be that different, right?”

“Yeah…” A slow smirk unsheathed on your face. “I guess we are a little experienced here. You can be the Dad and I can be the Mom—”

Sam finished your thought, “and Dean can be our family dog, just like old times.”

The laugh that pealed out of you was a little too real for your line of work, so Sam’s grin instantly grew at the sound of it, pushing into his dimples. He didn’t join you. Just sat there and beamed, choking your entire body with flustered heat on the weight of his eyes alone. Dean ribbed him all the time for being shy around girls, but Jesus, Sam had to be doing at least some of this on purpose. If he looked at you like that—all genuine and appreciative just cause’ you were laughing at what he said—any longer, you’d start twirling an imaginary phone cord and kicking your feet. Asshole.

You tried to work the sudden dryness out of your mouth, awkwardly bubbling, “I can’t believe your brother ever went along with that. Wasn’t he our car once, too?”

Sam finally tore his eyes away, focussing his smile on his other boot instead. “Yeah. Put us on his back and ran around with us like that, makin’ car sounds n’ everything.”

What Sam had failed to mention was just how involved your games of house were. You had loads of vague memories in Bobby’s yard, of itty-bitty Sam, of the old kitchen toy set that Bobby had bought at a garage sale. The ancient hunk of plastic was baked white by the sun, so the little clock and oven stickers had peeled right off, leaving plenty of room for spiders to live. It was probably still sitting in Bobby’s shed somewhere. But you’d loved it, dirt and all, because it was often the one game that you and bossy Sam could agree on. One of you would be the Worker, who carted around an empty toolbox as a briefcase and went to work. (Or, futzed around in the treeline for however long). The other would be the Wife—you or Sam, whoever won the right to play with the kitchen first—who’d make an appetizing dinner out of whatever the hell was in Bobby’s yard. If you ever repeated these stories out loud you’d probably get a couple patronizing awwws. But really, those memories were the purest in a brief and impure childhood.

It was kind of cute, looking at the Sam you knew today and weighing him against that little boy. The one who’d fake-kiss you at the door of your “house” after an arduous day at “work”, whisk you away to your dinner table (an overturned storage tub), and pretend to prepare dinner for you (a bucket of pebbles). Stepping back, it was a bigger facet of your relationship with Sam than you’d expect—the two of you, hinged on all those dying memories.

“You were a really cute kid,” you thought aloud, tucking your pistol into your waistband. “Real sweet. S’ a real shame you’re such a dork now.”

“Hilarious,” Sam drawled.

It was sickening, how many butterflies one word could summon.

He drew up to his full height, scooped your jacket off the bed, and tossed it your way. Bobby wanted full reconnaissance on the ship before most of the activities started tomorrow, so you and Sam geared up for an innocent and not-at-all-observational couple’s walk. Sam had even changed into a pair of flamingo beach shorts, which you definitely stopped yourself from grinning evilly over. It was bizarre, seeing him in civilian clothes. Like you really were playing house.

“You know, speaking as a veteran house player, I doubt you stand a chance against me,” you airly dared.

Sam’s nose scrunched. “How can you even be good at that?”

“Playing your part?” You guessed. “And I play a damn good wife. I can do all sorts of wife things, like… I make really good coffee… I give good backrubs,” Sam hums (this is true). “Why do you think Bobby made me the girl, Sam?”

“Cause Rufus didn’t want to wear a bikini?”

You swatted Sam on the arm, all too aware of how giggly he made you. Already, you were slipping. Maybe you should’ve pushed to do this with Dean instead. Some cons and hunts had needed you to play husband and wife before, and the whole time, things had been peaceful and buddy-buddy, if anything. You could suffer through Dean being annoying for a few days. That was better than the real, bloody-chested anguish that punctuated every joke Sam made, or the insane chain-reaction that occurred in your body when you thought about… You. Mrs. Winchester. Being Sam’s wife. Drawing him a bath when he was tired… comforting him as he laid his head in your lap, or laughing with him like you did any other day, with the priceless bonus of kissing him right after. With Dean, things would be fine—you’d goof off or make a big joke out of it. But with Sam…

You lingered by the door, ankles pressed together, and smoothed down the skirt of your sundress. The amulet you’d use to track the mermaid sort of clashed with your clothes, but it was nautical and beachy enough to become unassuming. That wasn’t the piece of jewelry you were most concerned about, though.

Sam joined you by the door. He gave you a bracing look as you hovered across from each other, then with an air of finality, dragged his necklace over his head. The two rings hung on the chord were simple, vintage, and a little unclean. He untied the necklace’s knot and let the jewelry pool into his palm, which he opened to you.

You plucked out Mary Winchester’s wedding ring and closed your fist around it, feeling the single tear-drop diamond in the middle of the band jut against your skin.

After a nervous breath, you turned it over and slid it onto your ring finger. Or, you tried to, but Mary’s hands were—had been—smaller than yours. You struggled for a minute, fighting with it around your knuckle, then gave up totally in case you happened to break one of the few living artifacts that Sam had of his mom. He scooped up your hand without question to help. Sam’s eyes were soft but intent, his touch even softer as he helped wiggle on the old ring.

“There,” he said, overlapping awkwardly with your, “I can—”

You halted, gazing at each other, your fingers still draped in Sam’s much bigger hand, and he answered your shared awkwardness by jutting out the other ring at you. The deep draw of his breath from his lungs seemed to fill the dead-silent room. You traded hands so Sam’s fingers, long and calloused, were folded in yours like yours had been in his. John Winchester’s wedding band was simple and gold. It took a little twisting to get it on Sam’s left hand, but it suited him in an understated, honest sort of way.

When he drew away, the touch of his fingertips tingled all over yours in a few invisible ink-prints, sinking immediately into your flesh. You hadn’t even realized it, but your heart was pounding viciously in your ears.

Swallowing, you tried to give Sam a winning smile. “I, um, I-I know I told you and Dean a hundred times already, but—”

Sam finished your thought with a trusting nod. “You won’t lose it,” he said, “I know you won’t.”

And that was that. Sam twisted away to give your salt-lines one last glance, and the millisecond you were in the clear your ring hand darted self-consciously to your stomach. It didn’t feel heavy or different. You thought it might. Bobby had wanted to thrift the rings, but Sam hadn’t wanted to waste resources when there were two good ones right around his brother’s neck. It wasn’t smart to keep the dead’s belongings around unburned and unsalted, but they were Dean’s heirloom, so nobody could really nag him for it. Mary had died with her engagement band on. Sam figured that she’d left her wedding one on the nightstand so she wouldn’t lose it, and forgot it the night she went to check on him.

The air must’ve been getting a little too emotional for him, because Sam cleared his throat. “For the record,” he said, “I’m going to kick your ass at house. I’m going to be the best husband you’ll ever have.”

Your heart was still racing a hundred miles ahead of you, so your voice might’ve shaken. “Oh yeah?”

“I am,” Sam boasted, cracking a careful grin. “I’m gonna… carry all your things… open doors for you, and I’ll even throw my jacket over puddles before you walk over them. Good husband stuff.”

Yeah. Maybe it was a little obvious that the only marriage you’d ever seen was on TV, but the warm, shivery feeling rippling through you now was nothing but real.

“Alright,” you decided, and notched up your chin. “Prove it.”

Sam significantly notched down his, leveling your faces, and taunted, “I will.”

True to his word, Sam slipped behind you, opened the door for you, and bowed with a flourish. He gestured outside for you, ring winking in the light. “Missus Patton,” Sam gleamed.

Even if it was an alias, it charged your body with the same energy that Mrs. Winchester would.

“Mister Patton,” you curtseyed, and resolved to leave him in your house-playing dust.

Your walk was uneventful, but fruitful, leaving you and Sam with a good idea of where everything was on the ship. It was a miracle you could even form a mental map of the place, since the cruise was unfortunately fantastic at its job—things were very romantic. A big butter moon poured over a misty sea. There was a thunderstorm trembling on the horizon, and all you could see of it were these mystifying flashes of light, illuminating Sam in handsome shades of dark blue and brief white. Few people were outside because of it, giving the two of you ample privacy. You were the perfect distance from the storm, leaving you dry but privy to mother nature’s display. A rain-damp wind fluttered Sam’s hair around his face. It made him look regal, powerful, like how you always figured angels looked, electric-eyed and unfettered. It was stupid, how much you liked him and his dumb majestic face.

Your circuit around the ship’s decks probably wasn’t the ultimate scouting mission Bobby and Rufus were imagining. The first thing you’d done was one-up Sam for the door holding, which you accomplished by smoothing your hand into his. This was not grade-school hand-holding with three feet between you. You were not about to lose to a Winchester, so you went all in, snaking your arm down Sam’s solid one and giving the warm center of his palm a delighted squeeze. And Sam was no chicken either, so he refused to let go even when it became inconvenient. He tethered you to him the whole time, drawing you into his side each time you were separated by stairs or slim doorways. At first it was playful. You’d give him mean little tugs when he was in your way and Sam would do it right back, sniping about how clammy your palm was. (He was the sweaty one, mind you). But eventually your focus shifted to your task instead, so Sam’s occasional squeeze or brushing thumb faded into strange immediate normalcy. It was chilly, too, and sometimes the roar of the thunder warranted worming closer to him. Sam was so warm.

After an hour’s worth of scouting, you returned to your room to report to Bobby, Rufus, and Dean. You prepared yourself by guessing any number of jokes they could make at your and Sam’s expense. He got the door open one-handed, drawing you in behind him. It was only once you were inside that he released you, jokingly scrubbing his sweatier hands on his shorts, and rang up Bobby as the two of you got ready for bed.

“So,” Dean shouts into the speakerphone the instant Sam’s done briefing Bobby. “What’re the sleeping arrangements like up there, huh, newlyweds? Back-to-back? Spooning? Sam’s a big ol’ cuddlebug, ____, so you should take full advantage.”

You and Sam jammed the end call button in unison.

Sam respectfully allowed you to decide your sleeping arrangements. You knew it’d be crueler than cruel to deprive Sam of an awesome vacation-suite bed, so you shared it, you on your favorite side and Sam on the other.

Before you turned out the lights, you plucked up the snuggly robe from your bathroom and presented it to Sam. It was a fancy navy color and probably a little small on him. When he questioned you with a dry look, you smirked, “Good wife things, Sammy,” and promptly tossed it over his face.

“It’s Sam,” he muffled. You could hear the smile in his voice.

You abused every luxury your room had that most motels didn’t, including the in-cabin A/C. Sam cranked it all the way up, making your heavy, toasty covers even cozier. It was a bed in a ship’s cabin, though, so it was a little short, leaving Sam’s legs to hang off the freezing edge. Sometime in the night he migrated diagonally to fit. You'd shared a bed with Sam enough times to anticipate his habits (he laid dead still on his stomach, almost unbreathing, like a gunshot victim), but… Of course, the suite changed things. Sam's body heat leached closer and closer to your side of the bed, flooding your nose and your mind with the woody smell of him. The covers were nice, but the way Sam weighed down the mattress seemed even better than heavy blankets. When he would turn over and face you in his sleep, every hair on your body stood on expectant end. He was just… huge, and encompassing, which made laying with a foot between you a punishment worthy of the underworld. Sisyphus pushed a boulder up a hill for all eternity, Tantalus couldn't reach drink or food, and you laid there, chilly and yearning, with Sam warm and cuddly just inches away. Get a grip, girl. It was pathetic, how badly you wanted to turn over and draw him in. Sam had always been a cuddler.

His socks and ankles mingled with yours until morning, the two of you wriggling comfortably into the nicest bed you’d ever slept in.

_

For day one, it was your job to find your monster-of-the-week and hunt down any potential vics. If that was even possible. The mermaids had all gone for unfaithful men, and on a couple’s cruise built specifically for mending patchy marriages, that meant a seriously massive victim pool. The brochure had even featured his-and-her matching counseling sessions. Your best hope was Bobby’s amulet, which Castiel had lent credence to as some kind of Atlantian artifact. Regardless, all you had to do to make it work was… walk around.

“Yeah,” you breathed in the warm tropical air, sighing, “this is officially the best hunt we’ve ever done.”

Sam tipped back his head, exposing his building tan to the clear sky. “No kidding.”

With the sun high and the thunderstorm behind you, it was blazing and beautiful out. A sweet-smelling sea wind fluttered each tablecloth and skirt on the dining floor, including yours, stirring today’s sundress around your legs. Everyone was out for breakfast and chattering about the ocean view, which was an endless sheet of glittering blue stretching for miles in every direction. You’d technically seen the ocean a fair share of times in your life—off the Long Island Sound hunting a wraith, the Gulf of Mexico chasing sirens in Houston—but there was something different about being off-land. It was all-encompassing. The sea was everywhere and you were just a speck bobbing on its surface. Considering the weird number of times in your life when God had singled out you and the boys, it was a humbling feeling. You liked it.

Beside you, Sam looked just as pleased. He’d let himself get more comfortable than usual for this job, so the top button of his shirt was undone—and the second, and the third, leaving a whole lot of collar room and very little of your sanity. The last of your spraying sunscreen had been used on him, so the bold curves of his arms and the soft lines of his throat all gleamed in the sunlight. His skin was tacky with it too, so when you bumped into each other your skin melted into his. He adjusted his sunglasses against the light, making his wedding ring glitter. Sam was unfortunately and unbelievably kissable. You were not the first person on board to notice this.

A few of the tables closest to you leaned out of their way to blink at him behind their smoothies, and even if the stares were innocent or surface-level, you felt suddenly protective of him. You shifted to grab for Sam’s hand only to find it already looking for yours, uncomfortable at the sudden attention from one side of the railing.

As you pulled each other aside to study the deck, Sam rested his knuckles against the exposed skin of your back and skirted closer to murmur in your ear. “Looks like I might be able to get something out of the people at the buffet… Why don’t I get us breakfast while you look around?”

“You’re the boss,” you joked, since Sam was smart enough to know that he was definitely not the boss.

Sam broke away to get breakfast, and without thinking about it, you both let your hands trail, the sun-warmed tips of his fingers gliding all the way to the ends of yours until he was gone. It was so intimate so fast that your face combusted on the spot, heat sizzling up to your ears and squirming in your cheeks and neck. You were rigged in place for the following minute. Sam teetered off toward his task, hands folded behind his back as casual as could be. If he started whistling or something, you were pretty sure you’d kill him. Kiss him. Something.

You pretended your stillness was purposeful, looking for a target to settle on. The dining pavilion was one huge part of the second deck, a swath of crisp white tables under a big canopy, all in some fancy glass structure you were too poor to name. (Sam would probably know the name). For breakfast, the place was one step below average capacity. The air tinkled with the wind-chime talk of veteran vacationers and first-timers alike. For a moment you were a little overwhelmed by your own place in this ecosystem, since you looked and acted nothing like the trophy wives and businessmen swimming all around you. You’re supposed to be playing house, you reminded yourself, so play.

An employee across the floor was laughing with a group of arriving older women, all apparently familiar with each other. Long-term stay-ins, maybe? If they knew the employees… They might a good source of information.

You pulled a five-dollar bill from your wallet and strolled toward them. When you were close enough to notice, you stooped toward the ground, then came up with the bill unfolded in your hand. “Excuse me, ma’am? I’m sorry, but did one of you drop this?”

They turned toward you as one, all of them one wave in an ocean of flowy dresses and trendy jumpsuits. You felt out-numbered, but not necessarily in a bad way. The one nearest to you, mousy and gray-haired with her purse in hand, perked up.

“Well, there I go again,” she laughed at herself. “Must’ve dropped it while I was futzing around with this boulder,” she waved her purse, taking an armful of rattling jewelry with it. “Thank you, Miss…?”

“Patton. ____ Patton.”

And that was your in. With a little joking and a little part-playing, you had them fascinated. You made conversation, sorting through small-talk for any useful information, assured that you’d found the right crowd. Most if not all of them were third or fourth-timers, and two of them had been aboard for the other deaths. Perfect. You were ushered over to their regular table, making a point to save a seat to your left.

“And who are you here with, dear?”

Alright. Time to put your acting skills to the test. Panic’s stronger, heartsick cousin caught in your chest at the question. You told yourself that the risk factor was feeding you some adrenaline, but you were a shit liar. Brimming with a bit too much enthusiasm, you sorted through the people lined up for the buffet and pointed out the tallest one. The cheek-aching smile you usually tamped down around Sam bloomed in full on your face.

“Him,” you smirked. “Tall, dark, and handsome over there.”

Your new friends laughed at your joke, then immediately stopped laughing, followed by a lot of flustered giggling, face-fanning with drink menus, and disbelieving glances. It was impossible to blame them. Sam had tilted his shades into his hair, and from this angle he was nothing but barely-hidden back muscle and mole-speckled neck.

On your right, another woman pressed an acrylic nail against her chin, biting her lip and taking a long, long look at Sam and Sam’s shoulders. “Please tell me he’s…” she hoped.

“My husband,” you dryly clarified, and failed to trap even your imaginary smugness behind your grin as they groaned. The heat on your face was so intense it could’ve turned water to steam, so you scooped up your glass and held the icy drink against your cheek, grateful for the hazy weather as cover.

Your answer earned a table’s worth of joking sighs of disappointment and teasing pouts, which was funny at first, until you remembered that the monster you were hunting ate unfaithfuls. Sometimes whole. Bobby had used the words gizzard, regurgitate, and pellet, so you’d tried not to think about it. Mermaids ate disloyal men, sure, but rules could always change. Maybe these women were only teasing, but you were starting to understand why the mermaid(s) had chosen this hunting ground in particular. Regardless, you were going to be the most loyal fake-wife of all time, just in case.

“And here he comes now,” you chimed.

Sam appeared, looking exactly how most dads on vacation thought they looked. He was even wearing sandals—Jesus, if his brother could see him now. He swooped behind you, flashing the table a dimply smile as he went, balancing your plates in both hands. His performance was… interesting. Sam stood at his full height like he never did at home. His bangs were astray around his eyes, and his walk was lazy, content. It settled on you hard that you recognized the sexy smile Sam was putting on, since he’d been practicing it on you ever since Bobby had found this hunt. Ever since he knew you’d be paired up like this. Knowing that Sam was doing all of it on purpose gave you some sympathy for these poor women; little did they know, an evil genius was hiding behind those precious, disarming puppy dog eyes. They couldn’t read him like you could, so each and every one of them missed the competition glowing off him on a ten-thousand-volt battery.

I’m fucked, you realized.

“Hey, beautiful,” Sam said, and the smugness was in his eyes too, tallying a mental point for himself. “I made sure to load it up with all your favorites.”

…Which was true. Sam set the plate of breakfast he’d cultivated down in front of you, and just as promised, it was filled with all the food you liked most. It took every inch of your willpower not to glare straight into his soul, since deep down you knew you’d inflicted this on yourself. Sam had sworn that he’d go all in, so he had. You’d dared him to. Now, you were suffering the consequences. Sam had earned his first Husband Point for breakfast—but so long as you lived, it was going to be his last.

“Hi, baby,” you beamed back, a challenge in itself.

As he slid away, he punctuated his leave with a sweet, warm, adoring kiss on your cheek, effectively taking a match to your composure and soaking it with kerosene. That was two points. Christ.

Sam straightened, dropping a loving hand on your shoulder and rolling right into his charming routine. “I hope I’m not interrupting?” Sam winced to the table, his voice handsome and polite.

The table of women tripped over themselves to invite Sam to sit, chorusing from every angle, never, sweetie, and stuttering, not at all! Sam made a big show of thanking them for their kindness as he claimed his spot next to you. You’re on idea number four of ways to get back at Sam when he reaches between you, grabs the closest rung below your seat, pins you down with eye-contact electric enough to blow a transformer, and physically drags your chair so it’s flush to his. So you’re flush to him. When there’s not even an inch between your seats, he brings an arm around your back and single-handedly robs you of your grip on reality. Three points. A million points.

Holy shit. He was not messing around. Not even a little bit. Where had this Sam come from?

Sam turns in to whisper against your ear. “If you get uncomfortable, just tap me a couple times, okay?”

Right. Of course. Almost forgot which brother you were dealing with here. You nod a little too much, the entire left side of your body warmed by Sam and Sam’s ridiculously good-smelling skin. Where was he getting the money for fancy body wash? Or shampoo?

Dimly, you thought you heard one of the other women at the table commenting on how cute the two of you were, but your ears were elsewhere. This reeks of Dean’s influence. Who else could’ve taught Sam this conniving, evil… comfy… romantic… bullshit?

“Colleen! Sophia!”

Speak of the devil.

At first, you thought you were hallucinating. Sam’s finger was drawing circles on your furthest shoulder, successfully sending tingles through your entire nervous system. That’s dream material. But Dean appearing in a waiter’s uniform sounds more like a weird fever dream, and mixing the two genres is a little weird, so you wake up from your Sam-touch-coma long enough to check. Dean is at your table. He’s got a pitcher of water in one hand and a polo with the cruise line's logo on the breast, chipper and annoying and grinning like a shark at the two of you. Sam jerks up in his seat.

“Ladies!” Dean chimes, flashing the dazzling smile that apparently runs in his family. “How’s it goin’? S’ good to see you, too. Refills? Alriiight. Chelsea, doll, is that you down there? How’d that shuffleboard round go with Jason, eh?”

This is not what you’d imagined when Bobby had said they’d be on the crew. Dean begins his route around the table, stopping for conversation, to whistle, and to fill cups as your hosts take sips off the top of their already filled glasses. Just to milk as much out of you and Sam as he possibly can. He wouldn’t dare blow your cover. But Dean’s clever, and more importantly, a villain, since he throws you suggestive looks whenever he can and gestures lewdly between you and Sam. You already know that you’re going to stomp on his foot as hard as you can when he gets around to you. In solidarity, Sam’s shoe slides over too.

“What about you, Mr. and Mrs. Patton?” Sofia probes with impeccable timing. “How long have the two of you been married?”

You made sure to answer before Sam could swoop in and steal the win out from under you. Between being embarrassed by Dean and outdone by Sam, you don’t like your odds, but you can’t let both of them win. You decide to go for the greater evil.

“Six years now this week,” you sighed, low dreamy eyes, clasped hands and all. Hopefully, you don’t sound too murderous. Or obvious. You turn in to admire Sam, faces just a few sparse inches apart with how you’re sitting, and cup his jaw in one hand to pet his stubble with your fingers. “But I’ve been stuck with this rascal for much longer.”

For the three seconds that you’re eye-to-eye, Sam almost breaks character. He presses it down with all he’s got, but whatever he’s feeling is apparently much stronger, because even Dean’s circling presence doesn’t stop the flash of shyness that jumps across his face. He’s hauling his gaze away from you right away, but you’d caught it.

Underneath his performance, Sam was unbelievably, recklessly flustered. Over just one little touch to his face. Maybe you did have a chance to beat him at this, then. The suave confidence that Sam had magicked into existence crumbled instantly, just because you’d stroked his cheek.

You had no clue you had that kind of effect on him. Damn.

“N-Not long enough,” Sam coughs.

The two of you start to scrounge up intel from your hosts. Well, you do, Sam does his best impression of someone honed in on the conversation, his arm around you dead still. The scene on the ship is pretty tame, according to the other women. You’re recommended fun couple’s activities; there’s an entire game deck, a spa, and a dozen pools, among several other possible mermaid locales.

“But… if I were you,” Chelsea warns, sounding grave, “don’t stay out at the bar too late. Kelly’s husband had his drink dosed last night, and they never found the culprit. Luckily, we got him before anything could happen, but…”

“That’s awful,” you frowned. “Sam and I will make sure to watch out. Did you, uh, happen to see it when they dosed him?”

“No,” Kelly shook her head, shrugging sadly. “He’d barely touched his drink, but he was… definitely under something, so we figured that’s what happened. He’s okay now, though. Just… be careful.”

You drummed your fingers on the table. “Hmm.”

That sounded like mermaid song to you. A drunken, out-of-his-mind male victim fit the bill. Man, this job was just getting better and better—you’d found these women right away. Maybe you’d find the mermaid(s) even faster, and end up with a day or two to spare. They must’ve spared Kelly’s husband because they didn’t want any more witnesses. With this many kills under their belt now, they needed to keep a seriously low profile. Thank god for evil businessmen keeping the cruiseline working despite the deaths, since it made your wild goose chase much shorter.

While you’re learning more from Chelsea, in your peripherals, Dean mimes something to Sam that the others at your table can’t see. Coaching him. Right on cue, you feel Sam’s arm give you a warm squeeze that flutters through your whole body and invites you closer to him. The second you glance at Dean both of his arms fly back down to his sides, and it all comes together.

Those cheaters. Dean was helping him!

You glare Sam’s brother off the dining floor, and make sure to linger on the door he scampers out of in case he dares to intervene again. Over your breakfast plate, you immediately get to overthinking. There was only one motive Dean would have for helping his brother romance you (see file: making you his sister-in-law), but Sam was… taking your challenge seriously? Going above and beyond for this hunt? It was unorthodox. Any guess you could come up with didn’t really suit the reasonable, emotionally-aware Sam that you knew. Except for one. Which you thought about. A lot.

Dean couldn’t have told him, right? He joked and he prodded, but you’d asked Dean personally to leave your feelings for his brother alone. There was so much going on in your lives at any given time—and adding unrequited love to the mix would royally fuck with the dynamic you’d treasured for years. You could keep it to yourself and Dean could make his jokes, but Sam could never know. Ever. At least, he’d never hear it from you.

It’d taken ages, but after a hundred nights sharing curbs across the country with him, Sam had opened up to you. Relationships… aren’t really a possibility for me anymore, he’d told you. Besides… you and Dean are my life. There’s not really room for anyone else, is there?

He’d made sure there wasn’t. Since he’d joined you and Dean, you’d never even seen him look anywhere else but the road in front of him and his brother. If he ever looked back, it was to your face in the rear-view mirror. It broke your heart for him, but you understood what he was saying. A relationship would never work on the road. You, yourself, hadn’t considered dating since high school, given that the boys were everything you needed anyway. You could be at the altar and if either one of them called you, there was no doubt in your mind that you’d throw off your veil and bounce.

Sam had never… You’d never labeled what he felt for you that way. Hunting was—strange, and hunting together even moreso, since it took simple relationships and knotted them together so fiercely that they were indistinguishable from love. Any kind of love. You’d held Dean’s stomach together after hellhounds had torn him apart, up to your elbows in his blood. And Sam—you’d taken the clothes off your back to keep him warm, dragged him half-dead to home on a broken leg and faith, murdered for him, died for him, and lived for him, simply because he was Sam and Sam was your everything. Without question. You’d laid dying beside him, bleeding out, abandoned and alone, his blood-slick hand growing weaker in yours. Each of the boys owned a piece of you and you owned a piece of them. Anyone could mistake that ride-or-die devotion for romantic love.

By god, you wanted to translate Sam that way. But that’s what hunting had turned all of you into, so you couldn’t be sure that Sam had those kinds of feelings for you. It hurt. Frankly, it sucked. It sucked even more because you swore you saw it in Sam all the time. But finding out the truth could mean detangling that devotion, and there was nothing you wouldn’t do to keep that insane, mangled ball of obsession and friendship the way it was.

Still. You couldn’t explain why Sam would ask his brother for help on this kind of thing, and your crush on him demanded that you question it. This was exactly what you’d been worried about, going undercover as Sam’s… wife. You knew that you’d start questioning everything he did, hoping, wishing, and picking at his every move, just in case you saw something you pretended you weren’t looking for.

You turned your ring around your finger, wondering.

Sam tilted closer to you, all sense of shyness or guile wiped clean. He looked worried, whispering, “You okay? You’re making your overthinking face.”

“S’ nothing, Sam,” you stared at him, “just got something on my mind…”

_

With the two of you having at least something of a lead on the mermaids’ hunting grounds, Sam called Bobby to report your findings. You’d wanted to stay as separate as possible, just in case somebody pinned the five of you as co-conspirators, so Bobby surprised you by requesting to meet in person. You agreed on an alcove by the maintenance rooms, not wanting to be overheard.

You and Sam beat Bobby there. Considering how leisurely your walk down had been, you were expecting to be a little late. After fighting through the growing crowds, you and Sam had lingered by the railings of the upper decks, mystified by the magnitude of the swaying, lively ocean. The sea breeze was no less beautiful, especially when it fluttered Sam’s shirt around his waist and tousled his hair so sweetly. A default part of your disguise had quickly become hand-holding, so each of your hands had already taken a turn being warmed in Sam’s. You were falling into your roles still.

Though you registered that you were on a couple’s cruise, seeing all the other couples around you made you itch. They lounged in twin beach chairs, kissed, shared sips of champagne out of one glass, kissed, wrapped their arms around each other, and also kissed. A lot. They would share a joke and complete it with a kiss. They would stare out at the sea, catch eyes, and seal the moment with a sweet peck. They would be lounging beside each other at breakfast, turn in and kiss. Everywhere you went, your eyes found the first lip-locked couple without fail. It put your brain on its most basic setting, so all it could supply was: They’re a couple. They’re kissing. Sam and I are a couple. We could kiss. Sam. Kissing. Wow.

Now, you were navigating your way around the maintenance floor, hand in hand with him. Everything echoed in the tight metal hallways. The unused ones remained dark, so you stuck to those as best you could. The hissing of machinery and the deep, chest-rumbling purr of the ship gave you a good amount of cover. You probably weren’t supposed to be down here, but slipping around some ship staff was child’s play for two capable hunters, and you’d only speak to Bobby for a moment anyway.

Sam was quietly rattling off his thoughts about the case when, boom, you stopped mid-step around a corner and reeled you both back. Footsteps ahead. The sound bounced off the walls in circles, making it hard to say where they were coming from. Shit. Come on.

You bunched up in the nearest corner you could find. As in, you bodily wheeled sideways and slapped Sam into the wall, then yourself into him, safely hidden in the blindspot of a doorway.

Sam stilled. You both held your breath.

The footsteps passed, and the idle whistling of the employee they belonged to disappeared down the other end of the hall. But the echo confused you and the employee was really taking his time, because you were pressed against Sam that way for ages, smushing you both out of sight. You’d put on a stern face and readied yourself for trouble, only to miserably fail at… focussing. Thinking. Or feeling anything, past the sensitive, tingling air between your face, throat, chest, and hands.

Both of your fists were in the front of Sam’s shirt, frozen where they’d maneuvered him out of sight. His heart was loud enough to hear beneath your knuckles. The rest of your body only sent out signals where it was linked to Sam’s, so everything but your stomach pressed against his and your knees knocking together was filtered away. It had to have only lasted a few breaths. But your mind ran rampant for so long that time passed in hours, keeping you there. Lifting your head even an inch would put your mouth right across from Sam’s, so you kept your chin ducked, almost into his chest. The open collar of his shirt. The smooth, sexy scooping lines of his collarbones. Hell. To your own embarrassment, your fucking mouth started to water, since your body had a mind of its own today. His warm breath fluttered across your cheek and hair, cloying with the honey-sweet smell of the fruit he’d had for breakfast. Jesus, Sam.

“Good instincts,” Sam blushed.

You blinked. You hadn’t even heard the footsteps fade. “Thank you,” you answered on autopilot.

You didn’t release his shirt. Sam didn’t ask you to. You managed to step back an inch, giving Sam room to breathe that he instead used to watch you curiously. Finally, your fingers unwound, raw from how hard they’d clenched around his shirt.

“Sorry,” you said, scrambling to explain yourself. “I’m lost in my head a bit, trying to finish this job… y’know. S’...”

“...a huge victim pool, with a small timeframe to match,” Sam finished your thought. He was blushing like a cartoon, his moles lost in planes of red. “It’s okay. I’m frazzled too. I didn’t even hear that guy coming, to be honest with you.”

“I guess we’re both a little off our game,” you smirked.

“You? Never.” Sam scoff-laughed, and you wanted so badly to fist your hands into his shirt, cram him up against that wall again and kiss him stupid, since that’s exactly how he made you feel. Stupid. Breathless. Kissed all over.

Standing across from you in the hall, Sam opened his left hand for you to take. Shooting him a playful smirk that probably came across as I’m-going-to-eat-you-alive-later, you clapped your hand to his, then sealed the deal, Sam’s fingers slotting naturally into yours.

“Hey,” Sam said, hesitating to take the first step away from this moment. “Um… I’ll watch your six if you watch mine, yeah? We can keep each other alert.”

Knowing it was fruitless, you knocked your shoulder against his and put your game face on. “Deal.”

Bobby met up with you at the rendezvous point a few minutes later, fighting to carry a couple of plastic bags while shoving a janitor’s cart along with him. Any annoyance about his workload was put on a backburner at the sight of you and Sam. You thought at first the clever look on his face was because you were failing to appear inconspicuous, crammed together in a dark corner of the ship’s underbelly, but by now you should’ve known better.

“Well,” he wuffed out. Bobby scratched his beard, smiling at your entwined hands. “You two are getting along swimmingly.”

You rolled your eyes. Yeah, death was sounding pretty good about now, especially if it meant an end to these jokes. You could almost hear Dean ribbing you for it in your final moments. So, lemme guess… Sam’s getting everything in your will, eh? Bein’ your husband n’ all.

Sam dropped your hand lightning-fast, a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, and you followed suit with no bad feelings about it. Okay, maybe a few. After holding hands with him all day and night, being denied that right felt unfair enough to cry over.

Together, you reported to Bobby what you’d found, including your potential victim, Kelly’s husband. Lore indicated that mermaids made nests—they needed somewhere to hurl up all those bones, after all—which was what Rufus, Dean, and Bobby were focused on finding. The easiest way out of this was with a good ol’ fashioned ambush. Preferably soon, so that all of you could enjoy a good vacation. Not just you and Sam. Though after the wringer he’d been putting himself through lately, you were glad Sam had taken the easy track for this job. He, of all people, deserved some rest and relaxation. Maybe a good backrub, too.

“Oh, uh,” Bobby forced on a neutral face. “The reason I needed the two of you down here is this,” he gestured with the bags he was leaden with, pronouncing, “Dean wanted me to pass along some gifts.”

A coil of dread grew in your stomach. Dear god. Bobby dropped the puffy bags down between the two of you, then immediately drew back with bomb-squadron level trepidation. You almost expected to see a kitchen timer hooked up to a blinking ball of wires amid the plastic. To be honest, you had to give Dean some credit: it was somehow worse than an active explosive.

Bobby clarified, “He gets a huge discount at the gift shop, working here. Didn’t want to,” he cleared his throat, shuffling in a way that pealed with silent laughter, “waste it.”

You pulled out the biggest item in the bag closest to you. It was a men’s shirt in Sam’s size, eclipsing you shoulder to shoulder, in a pink color so violent and so tropical you could only hope it wasn’t radioactive. Husband and Wife, it read, Cruising Partners for Life!

You glanced down. Of course, there was a matching women’s to go with it. Dean was never merciful. Your glaring went on long enough for you to realize that husband was in hard, masculine font, and wife was, obviously, curly and feminine, the text framed around a cruise ship and hearts. Sam was squinting at it over your shoulder, unimpressed.

“Dean Winchester,” you proclaimed, folding the shirt against your belly, “you are a cancer.”

Glinting with humor, Bobby said, “Congrats on six years, you two.”

He flicked up his cap at you, then hustled away, janitor’s cart rattling and the matching keys jingling on his belt. You and Sam stumbled over each other trying to coax him back, but anything above a whisper could get you caught. Bobby was around the corner and gone before you could get in any more protests, abandoning you and Sam with three huge bags brimming with bullshit. Psuedo-father-of-the-year.

The bags sat and looked at you. You and Sam shared a disgusted, yet mutually curious glance.

“Once this is all over—” Sam started.

“We kill your brother?” You finished.

“Yeah,” Sam scooped up another bag and started to dig through it, “We kill my brother.”

Along with the shirts, there were also sunglasses, condoms, tote bags, socks (with little ships on them, duh), a second variety of condoms, and hats. Most of this you mutually plotted to shove onto the first couple that would take it, but you paused on one of the twin his-and-her hats. It was… somehow… kind of cute. In a kitschy, self-aware, corporate-evil kind of way.

You took it by the bill and tugged it over Sam’s wind-swept bangs. It flared his hair out to the side all funny and shook loose the glossy, too-long curl that Sam had been wrestling back all day, which he self-consciously brushed back another time. The hat matched the color of his pants, accidentally coordinating with your outfit as well. Altogether, it would make your already paired clothes look intentional.

Notching your fists on your hips, you rocked back on your heels and examined him with a long hum. “Hm. Not bad.”

(He looked fucking adorable.)

Sam slouched. “What does it say?”

You bit your lip, giggling, and did your best romantic husband voice. “She’s the only fish in my sea.”

“Clever,” Sam snorted, “M’ not wearing this.”

“Not even if I wear the matching one?” You winced, hopefully.

In an attempt to convince him, you fished out the other baseball cap and popped it on, even flashing a modelesque pose to really sell it. You weren’t sure why you were throwing yourself under the bus for this bit, but the idea of Sam dorking around in a dumb hat all day sounded entertaining. He looked unfortunately good in it, too. Matching with him would only help your cover…

Sam read your hat, doubtful at first: “Really? He’s the only buoy for me? If Dean saw us in these…”

He didn’t sound too afraid. The appeal was starting to register with him, since you were blinking prettily up at him from below the bill and Sam was doing the exact same thing. He smoothed the edge of the cap with a hand, almost convinced. Sam’s eyes are hazel when they rake over you, flickering fast on a narrowed face.

“S’ funny,” you shrugged. “And… y’know. You look really cute.”

Sam’s head immediately ducked to his shoes, overwhelmed with flattery, and he did the same helpless, breathless chuckle he did when he was embarrassed. You watched him twist his ring around his finger, mentally beating yourself over the head with a shovel. There was a canyon-wide gap between pretending to be married for a case and flirting with Sam for real. You really could accomplish anything, since you’d managed to swan-dive straight over the cliffs and sail the mile across. Shit.

You knew he heard it a lot. He probably didn’t need to hear it from you. Yet, Sam still smiled down at his ring, shy and smug in the same beat. “You think so?”

“No. I just wanted to see if I could convince you to walk around in that all day.”

Panic. You’d panicked. Shit.

Sam’s laugh stuttered a bit. He swooped down to collect two of the bags, head low, and kept it cool as he hung them over one shoulder. But you still got the impression that he was disappointed.

You’re beyond handsome to me, you wanted to say. A thousand similar phrases piled on top of each other in your hurry to make up for what you’d said, so none of them landed, most too emotional or disconnected to make sense. You made a choked sort of noise trying to spit out something to say, which Sam gave you a funny look for.

“I do, though.” You blurted. “I was, I was kidding with you. I think—” you grabbed the last bag to have something to do, “...that.”

You’d be rambling if you could come up with more than three words at a time. It didn’t help that you decided to reclasp hands with Sam as you said this, so not only were you declaring out loud how stupid you were for him, but showing it in touch too. Sam swelled up with a deep breath, his eyes calculating between your face and your hand grabbing for his. You knew that anything else you could say would just be another nail in your coffin, so you helpfully shut the hell up.

“You’re pretty cute, too,” Sam says, all humor. He lifts his eyebrows. “When you’re flustered.”

You bat him in the side with the plastic bag in your unheld hand, which bounces, predictably, right off him. Sam laughs and you laugh, but it dawns on you with uncomfortable clarity just how much he could know.

“Kiss my ass, Mr. Patton.”

“Don’t worry. S’ kinda my job.”

_

Equipped with matching hats and plenty of tension, you and Sam decide to change into your swimsuits before tackling the rest of the day. The weird energy tingling between you and him feels like it’s hit a different, warmer frequency, but you tell yourself that you’re just imagining things and push through. Friends can call each other cute. Closer-than-close hunting partners can call each other cute. Sam, of all people, is allowed to tilt his face closer to yours when he talks and say ridiculous things like: You’re pretty cute too. And now you’re going to see him shirtless. What the fuck.

God. You almost trip over your own shoes by the door, you’re so delirious. Sam caught you by the hand he was still holding and steadied you, asking, “You good?”

“Yup.” Absolutely not. “Just a little dizzy from the heat.”

You find your swimsuit, a safe, monster-hunting one-piece that covers your monster-hunting scars well enough, in your suitcase. Just in case, you grab a pair of jean shorts to wear with it. Before you duck into the bathroom, Sam tosses you an ice-cold water bottle from your mini-fridge and gives you a pointed look. The second there’s a barrier between the two of you—you changing in the bathroom and Sam in your suite—you gulp down half the bottle and mentally prepare yourself for what will be on the other side of that door.

It’s just Sam, you remind yourself.

He knocks on the wood, giving the all-clear signal.

Just Sam, you mentally sigh, who has been bulking up for the past three years.

You assumed your facade, took the doorknob in hand, sucked in a breath, and breezed out of the bathroom without a care in the—

Boom. You almost smacked face-first into Sam. Almost, but you’d slammed your brakes just an inch before you would’ve collided with him. Teetering on those brakes, there’s a twelfth of a second where your vision is filled with nothing but his torso. Don’t objectify him, you order yourself. It becomes a mental chant. Don’t do it. Don’t even think about it. But Sam robs you both of your control and your ability to think, so you hang there, dumbfounded, swallowing butterflies by the fistfuls and staring at him.

Your eyes had already started on the floor, determined to avoid the sight of him, so you’re forced to drag them up when you meet his gaze. So. You literally look him up and down, like people do in the movies. In the sea of skin your brain is censoring, you think you see his naval and the pretty little freckles constellating over it. A touch of sun-kissed collarbone. More dark brown freckles.

You whip up your head before it’s obvious that you’re trying not to look, only to catch Sam. Who’s also looking? At you. In your swimsuit. Okay, that wasn’t your imagination.

With no other way to defend yourself, you resort to instinct and glare at him the first chance you get. There’s no heat in it, but Sam still takes a step back.

“...Sorry,” he winced, apologetic, and held up the sunscreen lotion he’d packed. “Do you think you could help me with my back?”

Okay. This couldn’t be your imagination.

“I got my legs and my arms already.”

This… Sam didn’t do this. He was too independent, for one thing, and he hated to bother anybody about even menial things. Sunscreen? Really?

“But, y’know… I can’t reach.”

I mean. You’d gladly do it. But before, Sam always insisted on doing this kind of thing himself. It seemed like all these little coincidences were lining up with him, but you were determined to not look at him through a romantic lens.

“And you can. So…”

You kept doing this. Every time Sam even sneezed in the direction of your feelings, your whole body ignited, connecting dots that weren’t there. But this was… suspicious. Officially suspicious. You blurted:

“Do you have a crush on me, Sam?”

Sam veered to a stop. The hands playing with the sunscreen dropped to his sides, where his toying grew even worse, clicking the cap with anxious fingers. A blazing, suffocating blush patched from his cheeks to his ears. He made a pained giggly sound. “...What?”

He clicked the cap a couple more times in the silence, stopping immediately when you moved into his bubble to extract it from him. “I’m just saying,” you grinned, brimming with dry humor at his expense, “You must have a big ol’ crush on me, asking me this. If you wanted a backrub, all you’d have to do is ask, Winchester.”

Sam scoffed. The nervous tension in his shoulders unwound. “You’re an ass.”

You wagged your finger in a circle. Sam obeyed the order, (grumbling), and turned around for you. The second his gaze was elsewhere, so much bubbly adrenaline burst out of you that you could’ve broken out into song. You quietly put your hand over your mouth and pushed the excited sigh out through your nose, wracked with disbelief. None of that had been your imagination. Not one lick of it. Oh my god.

Trying to focus, you squeezed some of the cold lotion out into your palm and scrutinized your work area—which was, of course, fucking gorgeous. Sam and Dean had probably pulled such an awful lot in life because every ounce of their luck had been poured, by the truckload, into their good looks. Sam’s back was only barely the labor of good luck, though. Everything else was nothing but hard work and due diligence. Don’t you dare objectify him, _____, you begged yourself. But it was… there were… He had all these freckles everywhere that you hadn’t known about… and just… the, the beautiful line of his spine down the middle… looked good. It all looked good. Regular people didn’t… have glamor muscle like this. You knew what fighting muscle looked like, where it was equal parts mass and strength. Sam had that and then some. But he was also a lot more defined everywhere than your career needed him to be, so… he wanted to be that way. He wanted to like his body, and wanted to take pride in how he looked. You knew that he hadn’t always liked himself that much, so the improvement was… it was sweet. Admirable. You were proud of him.

“____?” Sam glanced over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you murmured. “Just thinking about when you were still short enough for me to roughhouse with you.”

Before Sam could answer, you pressed the mouth of the tube against the top of his spine and whipped a long, chilly line of lotion all the way to his back dimples. Sam yelped, “Ah! ____!”

You might have laughed at him a bit. Tossing the sunscreen aside, you fortified yourself enough to settle both hands on Sam’s warm, handsome back. You expected it to be brick-hard by the look of it alone, but Sam’s skin was yielding and soft instead. His muscles less-so. After getting an even coat of lotion everywhere Sam couldn’t reach, you pushed your palms into the meat of his shoulders and let out a long whistle.

“How can you even move your neck? This feels painful, Sam. Your shoulders alone are wound hard enough to turn coal to diamond.”

Sam hung his head, nodding. “Yeah. Feels like it.”

“Well, c’mere then,” you balmed, and gestured him to sit on the bed’s end.

Sam hesitated. He glanced between the blankets, which were still in disorder since you’d woken up that morning, and you, playful and wriggling your fingers at him. After so long, Sam could probably see underneath how much his stress ate at you. The temptation to indulge in an award-winning, world-renown ______ backrub was hard to pass up, too. Bobby and Ellen had told stories. Dean got teary-eyed when he talked about it. From past experience, Sam knew how mind-blowing they were.

Of course, only he could have the willpower to resist. Sam pressed his lips together. “We should really keep looking for the mermaid…”

“Five minutes,” you bargained, “Then we’ll hop back to it, I promise.”

Sam swayed on his heels with indecision, and you watched the twisting briars in his back weigh on him all over again as he remembered they were there. He and his brother both killed themselves doing this job, for the big stuff and the little stuff, so the least you could do was take care of him—in the small portions he allowed you.

You softened your voice. “C’mere, Sammy.”

Hook, line, and sinker. Sam shuffled toward you before he could convince himself otherwise. He plopped down to your left and angled stiff and straight-backed away from you, like always. You were sure you could do this for him a hundred times, and with each one he’d forget how to act around you the minute you started. It was a good thing that Sam was mostly unaware of his cuteness, since he tended to weaponize it when he was; you weren’t sure you’d survive Sam like this, the curves of his shoulders speckled with moles, his head bent, and the fluffy hair at the base of his skull flared out in tufts.

At first, like everything else with Sam, things were routine. You did this for your friends all the time. Hell, Dean used to come back from hunts and trade you stories for a good back massage. Hunters had a tendency to knot themselves up, so being one yourself, you had no problem helping Jo or Bobby or any of your other allies out. But… Sam. With his broad, heavy shoulders, and his beautiful, smooth-soft back tissue… Open and trusting you to touch him. There were only a handful of people in the world that Sam allowed to sit this close, and even less that were allowed to touch him if they did. Your shared duffle of weapons was within grabbing distance. If you wanted to, you could scoop up the butterfly knife you knew was folded in the side pocket and put it up to his throat. But Sam’s trust went so far that, not only would he sleep in this room with you, surrounded by weapons and the possibility of betrayal, you could hold him at knife-point and Sam wouldn’t even flinch. He trusted you that much. He trusted you with him.

It was an extremely intimate realization to have with your fake wedding band pressing into his skin.

You finished spreading the sunscreen across his back, first. Taking the heels of your hands, you smoothed them from the base of Sam’s spine and up around his shoulders until you were confident you’d covered every vulnerable stretch of skin. It looked glowy by the time you were finished, making all the weird feelings swirling around in your chest squeeze tighter. Touching him this way, you thought nothing but clean, pure, and innocent thoughts, especially when you started to work into his shoulders and Sam moaned in relief.

He leaned forward, giving you more access to his aching back. For him, you pulled out all the stops, kneading his shoulder blades with skilled rolls and presses, pinching the rough muscle between delicate fingers, then fanning out your palms and working into the tissue with your thumbs. You knew Sam bottled up a lot, but feeling the evidence of it in your hands made your chest ache.

“Nobody should be this tense on vacation,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, and his dry sense of humor was back in his voice again. “We’re not on vacation.”

You found a spot with the pads of your fingers that made Sam audibly wince, so you surged in, holding hard to it, draining the tension from it by force with deep circular motions. He could take pain like nobody else you knew, but he decided to be annoying and chanted ow over and over anyway. You knew he was just being a baby about it on purpose. It didn’t hurt too much for too long, because soon the shoulders flexing away from you melted into clay puddles under your hands, every harsh line in his muscles blending out into soft strokes.

Sam’s chanting sloped into a relaxed, shuddering groan. “...Ow, ow—oh.”

You probably should’ve kept your hands to yourself once you’d finished. Without thinking too much about it, your touch lingered there instead, the fingertips on one hand ghosting over his pressure-pinkened flesh. Sam melted into that, too.

You’d never been able to look at him too closely back here. It was hard not to lose yourself in it. Sam was broad everywhere, but his back was easily the biggest part of him, one massive wall of soft, trusting breathing and curling shyness. Every once in a while, when you hugged him or when he stood close behind you, it occurred to you that Sam must’ve been a truly terrifying hunter to everyone else. The towering body you were admiring now could absorb the recoil of a twelve gauge like nothing. You’d watched with your own eyes as Sam hacked off a vampire’s head in one swing—and sure, they were less durable than humans there, but that’s still loads of flesh and bone to go through. Here, you could see him as nothing but sweet and gentle.

Hidden in the line of Sam’s spine was a scar about the length of your thumb. It was surgical-neat and had healed magnificently, to the point where you could only notice it if you were close enough to touch. You drew your pointer finger alongside it.

“Think I should wear a shirt over this?” Sam asked.

“Maybe,” you frowned. “I don’t know how you’d explain all this to the Lindas and Cathleens out there ogling you.”

“Skiing accident?” Sam joked.

You forgot how to answer, since Sam had thrown a look at you over his shoulder and it was kind of a sight to behold. The way he was sitting, neck exposed to you and back sloped with relaxation, his eyes seemed to have this coy spark to them, like a cat swishing his tail as he eyed you from under a blanket. His shoulders were drawn in and his gaze was playful beneath his bangs, even more so with the grand expanse of his back to lead him. If you squinted, there may have been a hint of his flirtiness from earlier. You’d done the unthinkable: Sam was actually, genuinely relaxed.

The touch-allowance you’d been granted had made you greedy, so you stood, palm dragging up to his bare, mole-dotted shoulder as you did. You tapped the bullet scar there. “With bullets flying? Yeah, I’m sure they’ll be convinced.”

“It was a pretty crazy trip,” Sam shrugged, lazily, and it shouldn’t have endeared you so much that he followed along with your bits.

Somehow, you managed to pull your hands back to your sides. “But… you feeling better, at least?”

Sam sucked in a deep, content breath, and marinated in the new freedom you’d given him. There was no way to ever make a lasting dent in that brick-wall-wrapped-in-barbed-wire that he called his back, but when he gazed up into your face—bleeding with thanks—you knew he’d be okay for a little while, at least.

“Much better,” Sam breathed. “You’re an angel, _____.”

You burst out laughing.

He picked up the loose button-up he’d been wearing earlier and put his arms through the sleeves, neglecting, to your enjoyment, to button it at all.

“And… you’re right, you know,” Sam flirts. “You do give good backrubs.”

-

tags: @lacilou @cookiemumster1 @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-loou