Overheard | D.D.L.
A/N: another fic i've had written for months! so excited to finally be sharing these and to have a growing audience for them! thanks to everyone who has been liking and sharing my dean fics, it means so much and it's great to have a little motivation to get back into writing. more off-campus content to come! <3
summary: you overhear a conversation from dean's friend's that you weren't exactly meant to hear
word count: ~2.8k
warnings: MDNI 18+ talks of sex, descriptions of sexual acts (not full on smut but describing past experiences), insecure reader, asshole friends, comparing new relationship to past ex
Dean was out late since he had a game with the Hurricanes, but he told you that you could stay in his room at the guys’ place until he got back. You had dinner by yourself, deciding on McDonald’s since the rest of the guys were out of the house, though once you settle in bed, two hours before Dean is expected to be home, you hear the door open.
Loud voices fill the downstairs space, and you partly want to venture down there to see what the guys are up to, but also don’t want to intrude on their boys night. However, eventually, when your glass of water runs dry, you decide to head down for some more, but before you can even get to the second stair and descend, you hear your name.
“Is (Y/N) here?” You can tell it’s Logan by the teasing tone in the question, he is always messing with you and Dean about how much you’re over here.
“I dunno,” Tucker responds, his speech slurred due to the amount of drinks he’s had. You knew they were going to Malone’s to celebrate a friend’s birthday, but you didn’t expect them back this early.
“She’s always here,” Logan replies matter-of-factly. “It’s like she’s…monitoring him.” That phrase throws you off, your body freezing in fear. What could he possibly mean?
“Yeah, I can see it,” Garrett cuts into the conversation. “Like she doesn’t trust him or something. She must think him being alone tempts him too much so she’s always with him.”
“But she also doesn’t give him anything in return,” Tucker adds. “He told me they haven’t fucked in like, two weeks. I don’t know how the guy does it.”
You are very aware of the fact that your libidios don’t exactly match, and it’s not something you’ve brought up just yet. He’s assured you that it’s no hurry, he’s got a hand and a toy for a reason, but it still makes you feel guilty. And this whole conversation makes you wonder what he tells them.
“Dude yeah,” Logan agrees. “He told me the same. I’m like…are we talking about the same Dean that was fucking every night? I mean him and Allie would go at it like rabbits whenever they’d see each other.”
Upon hearing that name, your entire body tenses up. They brought up his ex-girlfriend in comparison to you. Your worst fear in a relationship.
“i miss Allie, she was so good for him,” Garrett says, a reminiscent tone to his voice. Your chin rests on your knees, tears welling up in your eyes, the phrase repeating over and over in your head.
“She so was. Their personalities fit so well together.”
“Uh huh, they could match each other’s energies. Now, it’s like (Y/N) is an energy vampire, sucking the life out of him.”
“I mean she’s not doing much sucking.” A chorus of laughter stings your ears as they continue to poke fun and question your ability to make their friend happy.
Unfortunately for you, your mind starts to wander. Does Dean think that way as well? Does he miss his ex because she was able to match his sexual desires? Were they more compatible than you and him? Insecurities rise in your body, and suddenly, you forget about the fact that you needed water.
Instead, you quietly trudge back to your boyfriend’s room and gather everything you’ve kept in here over the past few months into your duffle bag, prepared to leave the second he gets back from the game.
Although when he returns, finding his roommates passed out drunk on the couches, he also finds you asleep on his bed, above the covers, slightly shivering due to the chill in the air. He notices that you’re no longer wearing his hoodie, which is neatly folded on the chair at his desk.
His eyebrows furrow in confusion and his green eyes follow the duffle bag sitting open, containing some articles of clothing he has seen placed neatly in the drawer of his dresser that he designated as yours.
“Baby?” He shakes you awake a little, but you don’t budge one bit. He decides to then take a quick moment to check all the places he knew you kept your stuff; your drawer is empty, your toiletries including your toothbrush and toothpaste are gone, and your t-shirts that were hanging up in a small section of his closet were missing.
A heavy sigh escapes his lips as he takes a seat on the bed, though something catches his eye. A neatly folded piece of paper on his desk. Standing back up, he takes a couple steps and picks it up, carefully unfolding it with his calloused fingers.
His green eyes scan over the words that were written in your handwriting, and he can’t help the scoff that escapes him.
“Oh, hi Dean,” you finally awake, having been rattled from the force that he rose off the bed from. Slowly, he turns towards you, holding the note between his fingers.
“You wanna explain this?” He questions, a hurtful and almost betrayed bite to his voice. Swallowing thickly, you remember what you had written in your emotional flurry, and instantly regret it instead of talking to him. “You’re not seriously wanting to break up, are you?”
Silence hangs between the two of you and it’s horrifically awkward. You aren’t sure what to say or do, the damage already having been done.
“I…I don’t want to, but I was…”
“You were what? All of a sudden unhappy in this relationship and decided to make that decision without me?” Your heart aches in your chest, realizing the severity of what you had done. “What the fuck is going on, (Y/N)?”
Dean takes a seat with you again, the note fluttering beside him, quickly forgotten once his eyes set on you. He doesn’t want to hear it from a handwritten note, he wants to hear it from your mouth.
“I was just thinking that maybe we aren’t right for each other,” you shrug. “I mean, you have girls still fawning over you, waiting to have their moment with you, I hate to think I’m holding you back because I have issues.”
“You think you’re holding me back?” He appears hurt by your assumption, and because of that, you’re unable to properly form a response. “Holding me back from what exactly?”
“Sex. I hate to think that you fuck me every couple weeks when I’m in the mood and get stuck with your hand the rest of the time because I have little to no libido. You don’t deserve that, you deserve someone like Al-”
Dean’s eyes immediately widen upon your slip-up, even though you stopped before you could say the whole name. He knows exactly what you mean. A scoff escapes his lips, completely flabbergasted that you would even say such a thing.
“You’re really comparing yourself to my ex? I thought I told you many times, we’re nothing anymore.”
“You did, and I trust you, b-”
“So then why are you so worried about what you’re like and comparing to what she’s like, hm?” When you don’t respond, he pushes for an answer. “What’s got you worried, (Y/N)?”
“Your friends,” you choke out, averting your eyes away from him. You hate to be the person to throw his friends under the bus to him, but he wants the truth, so he’s going to get it.
“What makes you say that?”
“I overheard them talking about me. Saying that the only sucking I’m doing is sucking your energy, also saying how they liked her better than me, how you were better with her, how I’m over here all the time because I have to monitor you so you don’t get tempted to sleep with someone else because we don’t have sex that much.”
Confusion and anger flash in his eyes, and he has to stop himself from racing downstairs and pounding his friends’ faces in.
“They said all that?” You nod to his question, too afraid of your voice breaking to speak. Dean is so outraged, wondering what led his friends to say such awful things about you, that he doesn’t even notice the tears silently streaming down your cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to leave before you got back, but they were still up and I-I didn’t want to face them, but then I-”
“Hey, hey, shhh,” he coos, immediately bringing you into his arms, holding you close to his strong chest. You choke back a sob as your tears soak his grey long sleeve shirt, though you barely register what’s even happening. “I’ll have a talk with them in the morning. I’m not gonna stand by and let them say shit like that about you. Did they know you could hear them?”
“No, I was getting ready to head downstairs, but then I heard my name, so I stopped.”
“Fucking hell,” he grumbles, holding you even tighter in his grip. “I’m so sorry, baby. But please, don’t let their words get between us, okay? I need you to talk to me instead of running away.”
His request holds nothing but admiration and reassurance, no judgement whatsoever. He knows things haven’t been easy for you, and that communication has been a weak aspect on your side of things.
“Does it really bother you that we don’t…have sex very often?”
“Of course it doesn’t. I’ve told you that so many times.”
“But they said you and Allie-“
“Fuck what they said! They know nothing! Yeah, I used to have a very active sex life, but your safety and wellness is more important to me than anything. I may not understand what it’s like to just…not want to have sex but I respect it. Like I’ve told you, I have a hand and I have a toy. I would never, ever, cheat on you because of something like that.”
His words are spoken with a strong and confident tone, leaving no space for you to even interpret his words wrong. He’s told you the same thing previous times, there’s nothing that would change his mind or lead him to doing something that he would regret.
Even when he gets drunk now, the last thing he thinks about is sex. It’s you. How he wants to be cradled in your arms, his friends have stated how he never shuts up about you when he’s hammered. So much so, that they keep a framed photo of you to appease him; which makes their confessions earlier tonight even more confusing to you.
Overall, these factors have confirmed to you that Dean isn’t that type of guy anymore, and he’s adapted to your own personal way of things.
The Life of Dean has changed because of you.
“I know your mind is still going crazy, baby, but I promise you. Our relationship is different, but it’s a good different. I like that when you are finally in the mood, it’s like…mind-blowing.” You chuckle softly at his words and hide your face in your hands.
“Hey, no hiding on me,” he adds. “I mean it. When I first tasted your pussy, I-“
“Okay, Dean!” You giggle, your face now bright red and blushing, the smile on Dean’s face as wide as ever.
“Trust me, every time it happens, I just…black out afterwards. Most intense orgasms ever,” he adds on. “Plus, that one day that you let me go down on you when you weren’t up for it. I’ll never forget that.”
Your face now feels like it’s on fire from the way he’s talking. He’s right, one day, he begged and begged to go down on you, and despite you telling him that you weren’t in the mood for sex or to come, he insisted that he wanted to do so for his own pleasure.
Eventually, after setting some ground rules and such, you let him eat you out while you played around on your phone, the sounds of his moans turning you on, but your mind too clouded to reach an orgasm.
But he didn’t care, he was paying no attention to you. He was in his own little world, mouth covered in your arousal, eyes shut, occasionally fluttering open to meet your smiling face. Not once did he stop to take a breath, drowning in the smell and taste of you, both things that you had been highly insecure about leading up to that point.
He was down there for about thirty minutes before he finally exploded in his shorts, grinding against the bed and making a mess of himself. You hadn’t even realized he had done so until he lays there between your legs, spent, and awkwardly adjusts himself.
That’s when he sits up, revealing the large amount of cum seeping through the grey shorts of his, since he had forgone boxers. That sight alone was enough for you to pull him back down to your pussy and make you orgasm three times in a row.
“I need you to understand that sex isn’t just about fucking. It’s about sharing a moment with one another in each other’s pleasure. And to me, that means all the times that you give me a handjob or blowjob even when you want nothing in return, it’s me fingering you because that’s all you have the energy for, it’s dry humping one another when we’re too lazy to get undressed, the thigh riding, all of it. I don’t need penatrative sex every single night, despite what my friends say. I did it because it was fun, sure, but I’m in a committed relationship now. Priorities change, and that means adapting and making compromises.”
His little speech has brought tears to your eyes, and yet another blush to your cheek. All of a sudden, his friends words and your insecurities that had risen from them disappear, and Dean is the only one that matters.
“I’m sorry I doubted you on that,” you murmur, feeling upset with yourself for writing such an impulsive letter and not talking to him about all of this. He grins softly and presses a kiss to your cheek.
“It’s alright, baby girl. I can’t imagine how tough it was hearing that. And trust me, I’m still going to give them shit for it in the morning. Maybe a good punch or two as well.” You share a short laugh, knowing full well that he’s not going to hurt his friends.
However there’s an inkling in your mind that says that he’s not kidding at all.
“Just know that they’re wrong. They can think they know what’s best for me, but I’m the only one who can judge that. You and her are very different, and that’s what I like. I don’t want the same that I had with her, there’s a reason we split up. With you, things have been so beautiful and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’ve learned so much from you and it’s made me see things in a different light. You’ve opened up a more domestic side to me and I love it.”
“Domesticated Dean, huh? That wasn’t a thing before?”
He smiles widely and pulls you into his arms, adjusting your bodies so you now lay under the covers, seeing as it was nearing ten o’clock and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with you after a long day.
“It wasn’t, but I like who I am when I’m with you.” For some reason that single comment makes your heart soar in your chest. The fact that he’s admitting that you make him a better person, a better version of himself, is one of the highest compliments to ever receive, and it definitely doesn’t go unnoticed.
“I love you,” you whisper into his neck, placing a couple kisses there to seal the words.
“I love you too, sweetheart. I wouldn’t trade you for the world, you’re mine and I’m yours. No one can break that apart.” He kisses you sweetly, cradling your face with his rather large hand. After he breaks away, he sits up to reach across the covers, grabbing the note that you had written in the heat of the moment.
“And this?” he says as he rips the note to shreds, tossing the pieces into the trash can near his bed, “is not happening. I’m not letting my friends rip you away from me over this, got it?”
“Yeah,” you grin up at him, glad that he isn’t too hurt or upset over the fact that you had even written such a thing.
“It’s behind us, alright? Next time, I want you to come straight to me if something happens, especially if something happens with them.”
“Will do, Mr. Di Laurentis.” A blush takes over his features and he kisses you passionately once more. The two of you get comfortable in his bed, a heavy sigh escaping him as his muscles finally start to relax.
“Get some rest, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Unless I wake up before you, then I’ll be downstairs kicking my roommates asses.”
