DEAN WINCHESTER in one random episode per day ▸ 049 /364 01.05 BLOODY MARY

oozey mess
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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trying on a metaphor
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@ohgollysupaman
DEAN WINCHESTER in one random episode per day ▸ 049 /364 01.05 BLOODY MARY
domestic headcanons with dean <3
cw use of baby, pretty, sweetheart. kisses and cuddling !
⊹ dean lets you trim his hair. he sits on the closed toilet lid with warm hands holding your hips, looking up at you with shiny eyes, feeling much too fuzzy inside. he likes the feel of your fingers brushing over his scalp. you'll hook a couple beneath his chin to tilt his head this way and that, and he leans into the touch completely.
"you're good at this, baby."
he loves how close you are, how soft you feel under his palms. when you finish and set down the scissors, he draws it all out, not wanting to get up yet, and presses his face to your stomach. gives soft, chaste kisses to your navel.
"couple minutes," he mumbles. "wanna stay here, pretty."
“summer is going to be lit”
me all summer:
it's thousand yard stare summer
I love being a teenager but I can’t wait to leave my parents house fr
getting married in secrete to dean winchester
Like most outlandish ideas, this one bloomed over spilled whiskey at a bar.
It was loud. The ever-amplifying chatter of people blended together with the increased volume of classic rock. If you sniffed a little too hard you’d be able to smell the regret that permeated the room. Bodies collided on the dance floor like tectonic plates.
You and Dean are sequestered in a corner, underneath a soft glowing light. It shines down on him. From your spot across from him, you’re able to see the way the alcohol had tinted his cheeks pink. The rosy hue makes him look so much more beautiful.
He’s fiddling with a straw wrapper absentmindedly. His fingers fold the paper into shapes you couldn’t recognize. But that didn’t matter. He was currently in one of those rare moods that allowed him to let his guard down, lips loose and comfortable.
“Y’know you’re the only girl I’ve ever… been scared of losing?” Though his voice comes out quiet, the booming noise of the building doesn’t drown him out.
Your heart does a little trick in your chest. It fills with a mixture of admiration and slight confusion. Dean was known to get a little sappy when he was drunk. Usually, those moments didn’t consist of talking points for a heart-to-heart. But this one does.
The chill of the glass seeps into your skin. Condensation trickles down the sides, dampening your fingers. You set it down and turn your full attention to him.
“Never had anyone like you, sweetheart.” He hums low in his throat. “Wanna keep you forever.”
A soft laugh leaves your lips. The alcohol makes you feel weightless but his words make you feel like you’re flying. “Forever?”
Dean looks into your eyes, viridian irises glowing beneath the light. A big grin spreads across his face, a little crooked because of his intoxicated state.
“Why don’t we just get married?”
The hustle and bustle of the bar comes to a complete stop.
Your pulse skips as the breath in your lungs gets stuck. Those were words you’d never expect the mighty Dean Winchester to say.
With wide eyes, you gape at him. Not even sure what to say next—or if you could say anything.
His grin doesn’t falter. “C’mon, baby. Been together f’so long. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that tell you he’s thought of this before. “Saw a little chapel down the road.”
“Dean—“
“Just say yes.” He grins, perfect smile on display. “Nobody’ll know.”
It’s only then do you see what he was making. The paper straw had been folded to resemble a ring. Dean’s warm hand gently touches yours, looking up at you for your response. The paper ring settles frozen at your ring finger.
Were you really going to consider this?
Sneaking away into a chapel to get married? In the Dead of night?
It’s Dean. Of course you were.
“Yes.” you breathe, laughter bubbling up in your throat. “Okay. Let’s… god, let’s get married!”
“That’s my girl.”
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i love you semicolon. no one look at my 80 word sentence
just broke up with my first ever bf of 3 years, just in time for grad. never been so heartbroken in my whole life
Just re organized my pinterest I feel alive
DEAN WINCHESTER in one random episode per day ▸ 035 /364 01.17 HELL HOUSE
i fucking love garth. every time he pops up you know the ep gonna be silly
oh my god give me that fucking dickkkkk
writing fanfics feels like this
I just want to swaddle him and kiss his head and run away with him so nothing can ever hurt him again
“"Still as impatient as ever," she gasped, her voice trembling, though her hands laid flat against the solidness of his chest. Dean didn’t let the tension break. He stepped back just enough to look at her, his gaze heavy and focused, tracing the lines of her body with a slow, deliberate intensity. He reached out, his fingers hooking into the hem of her tank top.
He didn’t rush. He pulled the fabric up slowly, his knuckles grazing the skin of her stomach, a teasing friction that made Sadie’s breath hitch. He watched her eyes, seeing the spark of anticipation there, before he slid the shirt over her head and tossed it aside without looking.
Now she stood before him in a black lace bra, the dark fabric contrasting sharply against the pale, shimmering skin of her chest. The lace clung to her curves, framing the swell of her breasts and drawing his eye downward to the edge of the garment.
Dean’s hands moved to the clasp of the bra. His fingers were steady, though the air between them felt electric, humming with a frequency that made his skin prickle. With one deft movement, he released the tension. He didn't let the bra drop immediately; instead, he eased the straps off her shoulders, letting the black lace slide down her skin with agonizing slowness until it pooled at her feet.
Stripped of everything, the tattoo was fully revealed. The sudden stillness in the room was absolute, the only sound the ragged, synchronized heave of their chests. He didn't say a word; he didn't have to. His gaze was locked on the small, dark letter D etched into the pale curve of her ribcage, a permanent mark of a boy she had loved and a man he had become.
The hunger that had been driving Dean for the last hour suddenly shifted, transforming from a roar into a profound, aching silence. The swagger vanished. The mask fell away.
Slowly, as if he were entering a sanctuary, Dean sank to his knees. The shift in power was instantaneous. There was no swagger here, no defensive posture or practiced ease. He simply knelt before her on the worn motel carpet, his broad shoulders hunched, looking up at her with an expression that was raw and stripped of every mask he wore for the rest of the world.
He pressed his lips to the ink with a slow, crushing reverence, closing his eyes as he molded his mouth to the shape of his own initial. It wasn't a kiss of lust, but one of absolute surrender. He lingered there, his face pressed against her side, feeling the frantic, jagged thrum of her heart beating against his lips.
He leaned forward again, not in haste but in a steady, deliberate return, and pressed another kiss to the tattoo with less heat and more intention, like he was acknowledging something rather than taking it. It wasn’t about possession or momentum anymore; it was recognition in its most unguarded form, the kind that didn’t ask for interpretation because it already understood what it meant. Above him, Sadie’s hand finally came to rest lightly in his hair– not pulling him closer, not stopping him, just there in a way that said she wasn’t somewhere else, wasn’t leaving the moment, wasn’t detaching from it either.”
wherever i may roam,
by wheresizzy on ao3 :)