warnings/tags : 18+, suggestive themes often MDNI!!
— my name is sab!! i really write for anything that i’m passionate about at that moment, feel free to request! i’ll try to get back whenever possible! for now i hope you enjoy my recent works / content!! this is everything sabs way <3
warnings: smut, smoking, unprotected p in v (wrap it before u tap it), doggy
the bed rocked against the wall surely putting a mark into the floral wallpaper of the room. your head was shoved into the pillow drool seeping from your mouth and creating a wet spot into the pillow. grunts could be heard from the man behind you, his hand reaching out the run down a line on your back making you shudder at the simple touch.
“god- fuck.” he cursed. he was holding a cigarette between his the fingers of his large hand ash falling onto the bed from the lit cigarette, the other hand on your hip pulling you back into his hips
you propped yourself up onto your forearms your head lolling forward at the pleasure. suddenly his hand came from behind you and he put the cigarette in front of your mouth, you took a long drag the smoke filtering from your mouth to the air in the unbearably hot room. all you saw was smoke.
one thrust hit you from behind and you let out a loud moan you were getting close and so was he, that was obvious by the louder his grunts got, and the way his thrusts got sloppier
“you gonna come f’me, sweet girl?” he cooed massaging your hip just slightly
“please…” you mewled out his name the strength in your arms lessening as you focused more on the warmth filling your belly, his thrusts quickened by the second
“go on baby.” he encouraged and with each thrust you got closer and the bed shook more.
before you knew it your orgasm took over you and you let out a whine mixed with a moan gushing all over the man behind you. he followed after you letting out a grunt as he pulled your ass closer to him, painting your womb white.
with one final drag he put out the cigarette on the ashtray near the bed, he kissed your shoulder as he pulled out.
“you did so well.” he praised placing another kiss to your hair before he grabbed a towel cleaning up your thighs
a/n: this could be for really any male character that smokes. sorry this is so rushed!! but this just came to me and i had to write and share it with you guys
summary. dean used to be obsessed with you; now you feel like the least sought-after girl in the land
pairing. dean winchester x reader ( gn )
wordcount. 649 genre. angst
warnings. love fading, neglect, miscommunication, quiet heartbreak, implied depression/self-restraint themes
masterlist ˖ ݁♬⋆.˚ now playing ၊၊||၊ my man on willpower by sabrina carpenter
Dean used to love you loud.
He was clingy, almost annoyingly so. Always reaching for you in motel rooms, grabbing your hand on hunts, kissing you mid-sentence just because he could. He’d call when you split up for cases, sometimes twice in one night, just to hear your voice.
Now?
Now his phone stays dark. His side of the bed feels colder. His touches have become fleeting, polite, like you’re a stranger he doesn’t want to accidentally brush against.
The first time you notice it, you think maybe it’s the hunt. Stress, exhaustion, the endless weight he carries. But days stretch into weeks, and his distance solidifies into something heavier, something you can’t shake.
You try. God, you try.
New pajamas—lace, silk, even ridiculous ones just to make him laugh. Nothing works. His eyes slide past you, distracted, elsewhere. You curl against him on the couch one night, slipping your hand under his shirt, but he tenses like you’re interrupting a thought he doesn’t want to lose.
“Dean?” you whisper.
“Hm?” His gaze stays on the muted TV.
“Do you even see me anymore?”
That makes him look at you. But not with the intensity you crave, not with the fire he once burned you alive with. Just tired green eyes, searching for words he can’t find. He doesn’t answer.
He’s busy, always busy. Fixing the car, cleaning guns, pouring over lore. Work has swallowed him whole, and where you once fit between his ribcage and heartbeat, there’s just… nothing.
Nights are the worst. You lie awake listening to him shift beside you, restless, his breathing sharp like he’s dreaming of a life where you don’t exist. Sometimes you catch him staring at the ceiling, expression unreadable, and when you whisper his name, he only hums in response, like you’re background noise.
You start to feel invisible.
And it’s cruel, because you remember how he used to be. Dean Winchester, the man who once kissed you like he couldn’t breathe without you, now keeps his mouth shut, lips pressed thin as though love is a luxury he can’t afford.
The silence between you grows louder than arguments ever could.
You want to scream at him, demand answers, but the words catch in your throat. Because deep down, you already know: he’s slipping. Not away from life, not toward death, but away from you.
Where he’s going, God only knows.
One night, you try anyway.
He’s at the table, whiskey in hand, papers spread out in front of him. You lean against the doorway, arms crossed, heart thudding.
“Remember when you couldn’t keep your hands off me?” you say softly.
Dean doesn’t look up. He exhales slowly, runs a hand down his face. “Don’t start.”
“Start what?” Your voice cracks. “Asking why the hell my boyfriend looks at me like I’m a stranger? Asking when you stopped loving me?”
That gets him. His head snaps up, eyes flashing—but not with anger. With guilt. With something worse.
“Don’t,” he says again, quieter this time.
You step closer. “Don’t what, Dean? Don’t notice that the man who used to be obsessed with me won’t even touch me now?”
He stands, chair scraping, and for a second you think he’ll close the distance, hold you, say something that stitches the crack in your chest. But he just shakes his head, jaw tight, like he’s holding himself back with chains you can’t see.
“I can’t,” he whispers.
The words land like a blade.
“You can’t, or you don’t want to?”
Dean swallows hard, fists clenching at his sides. “Does it matter?”
It does. It matters more than anything. But you don’t push, because you see the truth written all over him.
This man on willpower—on self-restraint, on walls so high you can’t climb them—he’s not the same one who loved you recklessly. That man’s gone, replaced by someone who doesn’t burn for you anymore.
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