⋆˙⟡ Softer Now ⋆˙⟡
(Dean Winchester x female!reader smut)
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I DO NOT give permission for my work to be copied, reuploaded, or translated in any way.
All work is 100% mine and NOT created through the use of AI - I will keep using em dash until I die.
Header Photo Credit | Divider Credit
Word Count: 4.9 k +
Summary: Retirement and age are changing Dean’s body, making him self-conscious. You remind him that you love him and his body, no matter what. Takes the term ‘dad-bod’ a little too seriously. No show spoilers, takes place in a timeline where no one we love ever dies.
Trigger Warnings: Body image issues (Dean and reader), weight insecurity (Dean and reader), weight gain (Dean), low self-esteem (mostly Dean), mentions of past family trauma (no specifics, all John Winchester related), unprotected sex, oral (reader receiving), biting/hickies, slightly rough sex?, daddy kink, breeding kink, pregnacy kink, talk about getting pregnant / having babies, mentions of birth control, she/her pronouns used for reader, female body descriptors used for reader, Sammy has a girlfriend, kind of cheesy at times.
(If I missed any trigger warnings, please DM me or send me an ask, and I will add them ASAP!)
Author's Note: Hey! Hi! Hello! This is my first fic on this blog and for a new character! I am incredibly excited but also very nervous to post this, so even though I always welcome all constructive criticism, please try to take it a little easy on me, as I am just now getting back into writing. I really do hope you all enjoy this, though! It was super fun for me to bring to life, as I love reading fics where vulnerable, angsty Dean learns how to let himself be loved, and where he gets to experience true and pure happiness are always favorites of mine. There are quite a lot of trigger warnings, both smut-related and not, so please keep yourself safe and take a peek at those before continuing. I would really love to keep writing and posting on here if this does well, so if you want to see more, just let me know, hell, even send me a request if you wanna, I might just do it. Anyway, thank you so much to anyone and everyone who reads this- I hope you enjoy!
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Dean Winchester never thought he’d enjoy semi-retirement this much. In fact, until a few years ago, he never thought he’d retire at all, let alone live long enough to even consider it. But here he is… part-time mechanic, part-time hunter, full-time husband. Yep, husband. Dean Winchester not only met a girl he liked so much he threw his Playboy ways to the wind, but he actually married her. It was like when, suddenly, he was met with parts of a life he’d never thought he’d have, something finally clicked into place. He bought the ring, he bought the house, and he got down on one knee right there in the front yard, sold sign still swaying in the wind, and asked you to marry him, promising that if you did him the honor of saying yes that the house was yours and so was a new life. You said yes before he was even done talking. That was over 2 years ago now, and he couldn’t be happier… Well, most of the time.
He stands in your shared bedroom, looking into the mirror awkwardly. Pointedly, he flexes his shoulders, then his arms, trying to adjust himself, but something just doesn’t feel right. Furrowing his brow, he steps closer to the mirror and tugs at the cotton hugging his torso. It looks different, too. The way it's stretching in certain places is unfamiliar for a shirt he’s owned longer than he’s even known you.
Is my shirt getting tight?
His hands find the hem of the shirt and pause before pulling it upward, cautiously, as if he almost doesn't want to look.
Dean can’t deny the way he’s aged. The crinkles around his eyes are more pronounced than they once were, the grays he’s secretly been plucking out of his beard, the ache in his back when he wakes up in the morning, despite it being a real bed rather than a shitty motel mattress. But this is something different. He inspects his abdomen both in the mirror and by looking downward. And that's when he sees it, his skin littered with scars and moles you love to trace now softly curving in a way it never has before.
At first, he’s confused; he’s always been lean, he didn’t even have a chubby phase the way his little brother Sam did when they were kids. But it only takes him a second to realize what's going on. Between your home-cooked meals and sweets, the decreased time hunting and physically fighting all things supernatural, and his age, Dean Winchester has grown himself a little tummy.
He blushes for a second before catching himself in the act, furrowing his eyebrows again. Since when did he care about looking a certain way? Since when did he care about stuff like this at all? He certainly has never cared about his women having little tummies or even more than little tummies; more to love was always his philosophy. So why was he standing here, suddenly bothered by the change in his own form?
“Dean! What are you doing?! We have to go!”
Your words unexpectedly scare him, making him jolt. He flushes deeper, thanking god you didn’t walk in on him, and quickly pulls his shirt back into place. He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair before calling back.
“Putting my shoes on now! Be there in a second!”
Dean stumbles around debating on changing into something different, but he knows you both are running late already, so against his better judgment, he quickly finds his shoes and gets them on before going to meet you downstairs.
The two of you are supposed to be having dinner with Bobby, Sam, and Sam’s new girlfriend tonight, and you’re waiting at the door for Dean to head to the restaurant. You’re excited to finally have a girl around that can relate to dealing with the craziness of loving a Winchester.
You groan impatiently, about to call out for him again, more urgently this time, when he finally comes jogging down the stairs. “Finally! We’re going to be late, we gotta go!”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry I got distracted…” Dean sighs, grabbing his coat and throwing it on.
But you know this man too well, and he definitely seems more than a little distracted.
“You okay?” You ask him suddenly, trying to stay casual but knowing something is up.
“Yeah, yeah… I’m good, just- uh running behind.” Dean says, brushing it off, never meeting your gaze.
You’re not convinced, and usually you’d stop him in his tracks and figure it out, but due to the time crunch, you decide it will have to wait until later.
Dean pulls ‘Baby,’ the 1967 Impala, into the restaurant’s parking lot 2 minutes after you were already supposed to be there, so when you enter the restaurant, Sam, Bobby, and Sam’s new girlfriend are already waiting at the table. When you approach, Sam stands, coming to hug you instantly. Since you met the Winchesters, Sam had always been like a big brother to you, taking you under his wing, he and Dean teaching you how to hunt, and eventually even being the one who encouraged both you and Dean to pull your heads out of your asses and realize you were in love with each other. Sam’s also semi-retired now, along with Dean. They work about one case a month together still, but this town is their home base now. Sam’s house only a convenient 15 minutes away from yours and Dean’s, and Bobby’s only 20. To you, it’s perfect.
The dinner goes well; you love Sam’s new girlfriend and can't help but gush to Sam how perfect she is, making the poor man blush and stutter like a school boy, indicating that he must really like her. However, Dean’s quiet, not even giving Sam a hard time for being head over heels for his new girl. Instead of his usually loud, charming, confident self, he spends most of dinner staring at his plate and playing with his food.
When everyone says their goodbyes, you even hug Sam’s girlfriend, the two of you having already exchanged numbers and hopefully planning to hang out soon. You gush to Sam about keeping her around once again before hugging him and Bobby goodbye and heading back to the car with Dean to go home.
He starts the car up quietly, not even turning on his beloved radio, and heads toward home.
After 10 excruciating minutes, you're unable to stand the lingering tension anymore and decide to speak up. “Hey, what's up with you tonight?”
Dean's hands flex as they grip the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. Your question and tone were in no way accusatory, but clearly still hit a nerve within him. “It's nothing. I’m okay.”
“You don’t look okay.” You say flatly, raising an eyebrow at him, knowing him too well to play this game. “Did you not like Sam’s girlfriend or something?”
Dean shakes his head, meaning it genuinely. “No, no… she was nice, sweet, I’m glad you guys got along.”
“Then what is it? You’re being way too quiet.” You press as Dean pulls into the driveway and then the garage that is attached to your home.
“I don’t want to talk about it…” He admits with a sigh and a grumpy look before unbuckling his seat belt and coming around the side of the car to open your door for you like he always does.
You roll your eyes to yourself, knowing how he gets - shut off, detached, moody - as if he doesn’t remember all the times you convinced him over and over again that it's okay for him to feel his feelings and to allow himself to be loved and cared for in the same way he loves and cares for others, particularly you. With the childhood he had, it's a conversation revisited often between the two of you, but the longer you're together, the more it seems to sink in. However, tonight seems like a night that he might need a reminder.
“Dean, come on….” You try to encourage him to open up while you walk inside and up the stairs to your bedroom, him following closely behind.
He doesn’t respond until he lies down on the bed and sighs, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s nothing, it's stupid.”
You lie down on the bed, on your stomach next to him, propping your head up on your hands. You remind yourself to be patient with him, and you look over at him lovingly. “If it's bothering you, it’s not stupid.”
He grunts a little, one of his ways of saying he knows you’re right. Then he’s quiet again for a moment before he realizes you’re still there looking at him all pretty and empathetic, so he takes a deep breath, sighs again, and decides to let it out.
“I noticed I’ve… gained a few pounds recently.”
He continues staring at the ceiling like he just delivered horrible news, while you look at him, confused, raising an eyebrow. “Okay?”
Your response in the form of a question throws him slightly off guard, so he rephrases himself as if he thinks you don’t understand. “No, like my shirts are getting tight, I’ve gained weight.”
“So do you want to, like, go shopping tomorrow or something?” She asks nonchalantly, thinking maybe Dean’s disdain for shopping is what's got him so moody.
Dean sits up and looks down at you, not believing your reaction. “No! I just- I….” He stumbles over his words, trying to figure out how to articulate his thoughts as he's still figuring out how he really feels for himself. “Have you noticed? Like, did you realize that before I just told you now?”
You shrug a little awkwardly. “I mean, I guess… I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it was a big deal, you’re still healthy, you're still handsome…”
His face twists a little, and you can tell he's getting worked up. He huffs frustratedly and speaks. “Well, I don’t feel hand-” he says before cutting himself off, blushing, suddenly looking away from you.
He’s trying to close himself off, every instinct inside of him telling him this is stupid and that he’s being weak, too emotional, all those things his father had drilled into his head over and over. And your heart breaks a little when you see that look on his face that tells you exactly what he's thinking.
Sitting up, you move closer to him before speaking softly. “Dean Winchester…” He looks at you at the sound of his name on your lips, but his expression stays fixed, almost skeptical. “You are the most handsome man I have ever met, inside and out, and no number on a scale or a measuring tape can change that. Retirement making you a little softer around the edges, changing your body, it’s not a bad thing… You are happy, you are, healthy, you are safe… your body’s probably fucking celebrating.”
Dean swears he feels his heart stop before it starts fluttering in his chest, and his cheeks flush a pinkish hue. It’s moments like these that the reminders work, and he remembers why he married you.
“God, you’re perfect.” He mumbles, shaking his head and looking away, getting almost a tad flustered by her compliments, trying not to smile.
You ignore his praise but grin, unable to help yourself. “Look, I know what it's like to feel insecure about your body, you know I do…” She continues softly. “But even at my most insecure, you’ve always still made me feel beautiful, Dean, you’ve always assured me that weight and all that shit doesn’t matter. Why don’t you believe it when it's you?”
He looks down at his hands in his lap. He doesn’t even have to think about the answer before it's tumbling out of his mouth. “Most of the women I was with before you were only there because of how I looked… maybe part of me is scared if my looks change, if I gain weight, if my face or body changes too much as I get older, that I’ll lose you…” He swallows deeply, realizing what he just said out loud, praying it wasn’t too much.
“Dean…” You say as you reach out and place your hands on either side of his face, feeling the stubble of his beard tickling your fingers and palms. “You never, ever have to worry about that… I love you, and I wouldn't have married you just because I thought you were hot. I’m not going anywhere because of this. I’m not going anywhere, period. I swear.” You smile softly, trying your best to reassure him and clear his mind. “But just so you know, you are still hot, like really hot…” You add playfully, blushing a little yourself now. “More or less weight can’t change that.”
A chuckle finally breaks through him, and he smiles fully now, his heart doing that thing again. “Did I mention you were perfect?” He says, repeating his earlier sentiment before pulling you onto his lap and into a hug. “I love you so fucking much.”
His laugh is contagious, making you giggle too, before he kisses you softly and you whisper back. “I love you too.”
He kisses you again and again and again, smiling against your lips, then your cheek, then your jaw, and then your neck, voice soft and almost strained. “I know you wouldn't leave me like that, I just…
“Got scared?” You ask finishing his sentence softly. In the years you’ve now spent together, you’ve gotten to know all of his insecurities, and losing you has always been at the top of that list.
He doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t have to. You both know it’s true, even if he still doesn’t admit it out loud. So instead you kiss him again, and he smiles softly, a silent thank you for knowing him so well, for not making him say it out loud, for loving him even when he feels unlovable in all ways.
“At least now I know you think I’m still hot with a dad body…” He says, smirking, close enough for you to feel his upturned lips brushing yours before kissing you again, more deeply this time.
You can’t help but to let out a little giggle in between kisses. You run your fingers through his hair and look at him playfully, eyebrows raising in jest, deciding to cheer him up in the best way you know how. “You know you can’t call it a dad bod when you haven’t put a baby in me yet.”
Dean almost groans at your words, instinctively tightening his grip on your waist. Just like you know all his biggest insecurities and fears, you also know all his deepest wants and desires. A family. Again, something he never used to let himself want, thinking it wasn’t something he’d ever have. But ever since you came along, he realized that with you having a family was an actual possibility, and the idea hasn’t left his head since. And it doesn’t help that the thought alone of filling you up and putting a baby inside you was enough to make him start twitching in his pants. Thinking about his perfect girl, his love, his everything, carrying part of him… It's enough to make him feral.
“You know you can’t say shit like that to me, baby…” He says his voice lower now as his gaze locks onto your eyes, glimmering with something new.
You can’t help the smirk that finds your lips when you know you’ve got him exactly where you want him. “Am I wrong?” You ask, feigning innocence.
“You’re a minx, is what you are-” He states pointedly before grabbing the back of your head, gently but firm, and pulling you in to kiss rougher now but with all the same passion as before.
You try not to giggle while kissing him, but you can’t help it as it slips out. He can’t hide his own smile anymore either, as he shakes his head before grabbing you and flipping you onto the bed. Hovering over you, the sudden dominance and strength make you blush and gasp in surprise. This is your dean, the real Dean, no longer insecure and angsty, just Dean; smooth, confident, sexy, loving, vulnerable, yours.
“Maybe you’re right, maybe as long as I’m still strong enough to throw you around a little, we’ll be okay.” He smirks teasingly. “Oh, and for the record, you know I’ve been waiting to put that baby in you from day one, pretty girl, you give me the word and you know I’ll deliver.”
His words, equally filthy and sweet, make your heart explode and tummy swirl with desire, and you find yourself considering his words and suppressing another giggle. “Yeah, but if I actually let you do it, I don’t get to tease you about it all the time.”
“Trust me, baby, you all full and round with my child, you’ll have lots more to tease me about then.” He states knowing whenever it is, when that happens, he won't be able to keep his hands off of you.
Your cheeks heat up at the thought, and the growing feeling in your lower belly sparks. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”
He chuckles at your attempt to deflect before leaning down close to you, his nose brushing yours softly, making it impossible for you to deflect away his attention now. “Yeah, but you fucking love it.” He doesn't give you a chance to respond before pushing his lips against yours, kissing you hungrily.
As if on instinct alone, your hands find the front of his shirt using the soft fabric to tug him towards you. You were right, but so was he; he’s insatiable, and so are you.
Feeling you pull him in, he smirks, “That’s what I thought, baby girl.” He loves teasing you, he loves making you melt, but he loves making you bite back to spur him on. A challenge he takes only to press you harder and get you right back into the palm of his hand again anyway. It’s his favorite game of cat-and-mouse.
“Shut up and practice putting that baby inside me already.” You shoot back mischievously.
He can't help but chuckle at your demand, loving it and loving you like this. “Yes, ma’am.”
And then his hands start to move. He’s kissing you again all over as he starts pulling off your clothes. You reach for his shirt to remove it as well, but his hands grab yours and pin them down, surprising you a little, but you don’t fight it. “Let me,” He whispers, almost begging, his eyes looking into yours, asking to let him take care of you.
You don’t protest, and he releases you from his hold before he starts to remove his clothes as well. You let him take off both of your clothing and his, but your hands are still greedy as they go back to his body, running down from the stubble on his cheeks to the hair on his chest, to the soft belly he was so insecure about only moments ago. You savor the different textures and curves, all of them so uniquely and so purely him.
Dean groans into your mouth as you touch him, and he finally removes the last of his clothing. He moves himself away from your mouth, now kissing your jaw and heading south again. His lips explore your neck, and shoulders, and collarbones like he hasn't done so hundreds of times before, he gets to your breasts. He takes your left nipple into his mouth, without hesitation, possessively sucking and biting at it as his hand teases the one on the right.
Your soft gasps and moans urge him to keep going as he switches, hand to the left, mouth on the right now. Your hands grasping at the comforter underneath your body to stop yourself from squirming at the pleasure.
Once satisfied with the redness and puffiness of both peaks, he continues his path of sexual destruction. His lips trailing over your sternum and stomach all the way to your hips. Stopping there, he picks a spot right between your midline and hip bone to sink his teeth into as he sucks and laps at it with his tongue relentlessly. You moan out louder this time, the pain and pleasure mixing deliciously, causing the dampness forming between your thighs to grow.
When he’s satisfied again, this time with the mark he’s created, the abused skin bruising quickly, he looks up at you, grinning and proud, loving how you react to him in every way. He savors it all, from the change in your breath to the way you bite at your lip; he’s greedy for all you have to offer.
His hands massage your legs as he keeps moving down, now kissing at the soft skin of your thighs towards where he really wants. “Just a little taste, baby, then I’ll let you have it, I promise.”
You blush, but you don’t argue as he spreads your legs, and he lets his mouth move towards your core like a magnet. He kisses it using his tongue to tease, and it works, making you moan for him, your fingers running through his hair.
“Dean-” You whimper softly in pleasure at the dedicated way he uses his mouth against you.
“Shhhhh, baby, I’ve got you.” He mumbles before burying his face deeper.
You moan again, the sensation overwhelming and heavenly, and he loves the sounds so much he smirks against you, and you can feel it. He’s cockiest like this, making you feel good, showing you how much he loves you and wants you. He keeps going, his ‘little taste’, not being so little as you feel yourself getting more and more worked up.
“Oh my god, Dean, please-” You plead, grasping his hair more aggressively now, desperate to have some kind of grip on reality.
He pulls himself away, licking his lips and wiping his mouth off, messy with your arousal and his spit. He sits up and catches his breath, looking down at you lustfully and breathing heavily from his efforts. “God, I could do that all day, but you have me way too hard right now to make you cum anywhere except around me while I’m filling you up.”
You whine at his teasing, fully knowing it's ridiculous to do so, as he stares down at you, completely bare and needy under him. “Dean… please…”
He doesn’t have to be told twice before suddenly grabbing you and kissing you roughly again, shoving down his boxers, cock hitting his stomach as it springs up, thankful for the mercy of release. He groans and leans to move your legs, wrapping them around him. “Come on, baby, hang on to me…” You do as he says between the mess of kisses and tangled limbs.
Once situated, Dean reaches down between your bodies and takes his cock into his large hand, pressing the tip against your opening, gently rubbing it up and down, making you moan for him again as he grazes your clit.
“Tell me how bad you want it, baby, tell me how bad you want my baby inside you.” He pleads, grunting a little, trying to keep his composure.
“So bad, Dean, need it so bad, want you to fill me up so good.” You plead back for him both because you're desperate for him inside but also because you truly mean it.
“That's my good girl, daddy’s going to breed you so good, honey, don’t you worry,” Dean growls before pushing into your warmth, making him groan, and you gasp as he takes his time sinking into you until he bottoms out.
“Oh fuck-” You moan, but he cuts you off wth a needy and messy kiss as he starts moving himself in and out of you with a building pace.
“That's it, baby, gonna fill you up nice and good.” He murmurs, voice becoming gravely, “Gonna give you my baby, is that what you want?”
You nod, unable to form words due to the combination of his hammering thrusts and his fingers now rubbing your clit, clouding your mind with pleasure.
“Words, baby, let me hear ‘em.” He demands grunting, his fingertips of his other hand digging into the flesh of your hip, most likely creating finger tip-shaped bruises as he holds on to you like a lifeline.
“Yes, daddy, please, breed me, please.” You manage to moan out breathlessly, your words only spurring him on more, rubbing you faster, fucking you harder, and kissing you with abandon.
He growls a string of curses against your mouth, forehead leaning against yours, needing to ground himself as he feels his high approaching quickly, movements becoming sloppy.
“Such a good girl for me, honey. Need you fucking cum for me, okay? Cum for me and I’ll give you that baby, I’ll fill you up so full I promise.” Dean rambles, unsure if he’s begging or commanding you, his dominance slipping as his desperate need for you takes precedence.
With the motivation of wanting to make you cum first, his efforts double on your clit as he continues with his brutal pace inside you, knowing exactly how to bring you there to the edge. You moan out and whimper, feeling it bubble deep inside you. It feels good, too good, and you dig your nails into his biceps, tipping your head back as you let that too-good feeling take over and wash through you like a tidal wave.
Dean watches you come undone, the sight making his hips stutter as he almost cums right there and then just by looking at you. But he doesn’t stop, he keeps going, desperate for his own release, to fill you up and breed you just how you begged him to.
“Fuck!” He curses loudly as he shoves himself especially deep inside your body and cums hard. He’s panting and almost whining himself as he continues to fuck you through his orgasm and the after shocks of your own.
You moan when you feel him fill you up and whimper at the overwhelming sensitivity coursing through your body. “Dean!” You whimper, almost squealing.
He huffs out an almost laugh, slowing and shallowing his movements, his hips stutter some more as he tries to bring himself to a stop. “Sorry, baby, sorry-” He whispers, knowing he’s giving you too much now, caught up in the moment.
You nod, still trying to catch your breath as his hands start rubbing up your sides again, soft and soothingly, and his head drops to your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin all over. He might have gotten caught up for a moment, but he knows exactly what you need. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” He assures you softly. “Just breathe for me.” You nod, listening to his voice, using the sound and his soft kisses to center you.
He gently pulls out of you, doing his best not to make you whimper, before reaching for his shirt to gently wipe up his seed that leaks out of you. “You okay, baby?” He asks you in the same soft loving tone, always making sure he didn’t push you too far or hurt you too much, always wanting to know how much he loves you.
“-‘m okay.” You say, smiling softly, loving how he cares for you even after destroying you.
Dean moves his kisses back onto your jaw and then cheek, leading back to your lips before kissing you for real this time, long and slow. “I love you so much, honey.”
The intensity of the act beginning to fade as a smile spreads over your lips even wider now as you look up at him lovingly. “I love you too, Dean…”
“Please tell me there’s actually a chance I really could have just knocked you up?” He asks, chuckling softly, blushing subtly, but voice indicating he’s truly hopeful.
You giggle and give him a playful frown. “Sorry, babe… still on the pill, remember?”
He groans back playfully and kisses you softly. “You tease…” He whispers, smiling into the kiss.
His reaction makes you giggle even more between kisses, but you know he’s masking how badly he wants this with his humor, so you move your hands to either side of his face gently and look up at him more seriously now. “My prescription runs out at the end of the month. Are you telling me not to renew it?” You ask him needing to hear it out loud.
He swallows hard at the implication, eyes shining down at you, swirling with emotion as he speaks, voice full of restraint. “Only if that's what you want, baby girl…”
He’s barely done speaking before you answer. “I do…”
Dean's eyes gloss over before he can even stop it, and he tries not to be mad at himself for it; he tries to let himself have this, here with you, in this moment. His hand brushes your hair from your face, looking down at you, still reeling. “Fuck baby, that's all I want-”
You smile, the emotion in his face and voice making your eyes water too. “Then let's do it,” You say in a small laugh.
He smiles back, pressing himself down, kissing you deeply, pouring everything he feels into it, knowing you’ll understand, knowing you know him like nobody else.
He pulls back and smirks. “Well, now, until then, sweetcheeks, just call me DILF in progress.”
And just like that, he’s back.
