28 | Supernatural is my love language | +18 only | currently not taking requests | DO NOT COPY AND PASTE/REPOST MY WORK YOU DO NOT HAVE MY PERMISSION TO DO SO
Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, friends to lovers, humor, forced proximity, fluff, smut (oral f and m receiving, p in v sex,), light angst, love confessions
Summary/Warnings: Dean is your best friend, and nothing more, no matter how much you want that to be different.
But he's trying to tell you something. And when you get trapped together for a week, he finally gets the chance.
Author's Note: Request from an anon! I lost my goddamn mind.
Word Count: 17.7k
“Are you smelling this, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, wrinkling your nose as another blob of something drifts past your feet. “We’re standing next to each other, Dean.”
Dean points his flashlight up, enough for you to see his grin in the dark. “You remember when Sammy farted last month, then pretended it was my Baby leaking something?”
You snort, kicking away something strangely hard that you don’t want to think about. “Yeah?”
“Least this still isn’t that bad.”
You look up to give him a flat, amused look, and freeze.
“Dean-“
“C’mon, he’s not here-“
“No, Dean, fuck-“
You grab out your gun, aim it right over his shoulder, and shoot.
The last swamp monster thuds into the water, and Dean stares at you with wide eyes.
“Uh, how close was I to bein’ a swap snack?”
You shrug, giving him a small smile. “Don’t undervalue yourself, dude. You would have been swamp dinner.”
Dean snorts, wading through the water to your side, and rests his hand on your back. There’s no real reason for him to do that. You’re standing up just fine. No serious injuries. No panic.
He’s just touching you. Casually. The way he always has, without thought, because he trusts you enough not to turn around and try to cut off his hand.
And it’s always driven you out of your mind.
Dean’s casually put his hand on your body since you met him. Since the first hunt, where he and Sam saved the helpless little vampire victim, and you tried to shoot them because you didn’t know that the people carrying machetes were the good guys. Dean had put his hand on your upper arm and lower back, helped you to your feet, and been the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.
You can still feel where he touched you, all those years ago. It’s branded a level right under your skin, the lightening and fire sensation of a broad, rough hand being so gentle on your skin. And every time he’s touched you since, you’ve still been able to feel it. Sinking deeper and deeper, spreading and growing with every accidental brush of his hand and shoulder bump and time you’ve been pressed right against him on a hunt. It’s going to burn forever. You don’t want it to go out, even if it drives you out of your mind.
Days the bunker is empty, and you lock the door to your room with your legs spread. Whenever he makes you—and Sam, but that’s not important—breakfast. If you’re watching a movie, and he puts his arm over your shoulder because he’s comfortable. Every time he whispers a joke in your ear, grins so wide when you laugh. Every fucking night you have to spend in the same room with him, pretending you don’t feel like you’re burning alive with a light that won’t flicker out.
Most motels don’t offer three beds. So there are times where the couch fits Dean—never Sam, and you’re not allowed to sleep on the couch because they’re dumbasses who think they’re gentlemen—and times where you just have to suck it up and share.
Sharing with Sam is fine. You can’t grind into the sheets as the fire sweeps into your core—Dean likes to walk out of the shower without a shirt, and he might hate you—because fucking Sam is right on the other side of the bed.
When you share with Dean, it’s… different.
You can’t fuck yourself then, either. But it becomes unbearable. Your body seems to ache, just to touch him. Sometimes the light will be angled just right through the window, and you’ll be able to watch the passing headlights of the cars drift over his pretty face.
Because Dean’s face is still so fucking beautiful. It’s one of those few things you know will never change.
But you don’t want anything to change. Change is the thing that leaves you alone, dead in the water, trying to use the stars to guide yourself when the sky is pitch black. You’ve never been good at it. When you joined hunting, it took months for you to fully adjust just to living in the bunker.
Dean had gotten you through that. Made you comfortable. Taught you how to hold a gun, and throw a punch, and made you waffles when you’d finally managed to knock him on his ass.
“I know you went easy on me,” you’d told him, spraying the whip cream on your plate, and he’d chuckled.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”
“It’s okay,” you’d shrugged. “Next time you can go all out, and I’ll still win.”
Dean had grinned at you, and you’d felt that heat rising to your cheeks. It wasn’t fair how he could do that. How you’d gotten so good at being around him and not acting like just one word in your direction made you feel high. At this point it had just been a crush, on the big handsome man who saved your life.
Even then, it had still felt like a massive, consuming type of crush. The kind like a tree, that wouldn’t stop rooting into your heart and growing. The kind that you’d known would get you in trouble, if you weren’t careful.
“Sure you will.” Dean had reached for the whipped cream can, and you’d whacked his hand with it. “Hey, c’mon-“
“I’m not done.” You’d finished the pile with a little swirl, and passed him the can with a smile.
He’d stared at you, then the whipped cream mountain. “You trying to drown yourself?”
“Maybe.”
Dean had reached forward, taken some on his finger—ruining the artwork, but it had been Dean, so you were never mad—and dabbed it on your nose. He’d laughed at your glare, and you’d tried to bite his finger.
It had just made him laugh harder.
“You look cute.” He’d said, lookin back to his own waffle, and it had been like being shot up with fire.
He thought you were cute. Dean thought you were cute. And he’d touched you again. And maybe if you’d asked him to, he could have kissed you and you could run your hand through his hair and taste the salt of his sweat, and he could show you how to do a few other moves, right here at the table, and-
“You good?” He’d asked you, and he’d sounded concerned. Not starved for you, just worried. Like a friend would be.
And you didn’t want anything to change. This was already better than you could have dared to ask for.
So you’d smiled at him, and nodded.
And nothing ever had to be different.
Friends.
You were so fucking lucky just to be his friend. The one-night stands came and went, and you were still here, with Dean. You could take that.
Take it, and use it to kindle all that heat in your body. Burn it and burn it until it was ash.
Keep pretending that your hunger and fever for Dean would ever go out, when you know that this is forever.
You’ve known it was love since you were in a diner, almost a year ago, and he made the waitress get you the children’s coloring mat, because it had crossword puzzles and you didn’t want to ask.
“Don’t bother her, Dean
“I’m not bothering her, sweetheart, it’s asking her to carry freakin’ paper-“
“No, it’s stupid, I’ll get a newspaper-“
“We’ll get you a newspaper after.” He shrugged, giving you a shockingly serious look. “But it’s not stupid. You’re not stupid. We’re getting that kids mat.”
You’d flushed, and nodded. And you loved him.
Love him.
Now, even in the swamp monster mess, his touch and attention do the exact same thing to you. It’s going to drive you out of your mind, one day. But you don’t want to try and stop it.
That would mean moving yourself away from Dean, where he couldn’t touch you. And it might not even do anything, but make you miss him. Make things change.
So you’ll lean slightly into his touch—just in case—and smile at him in the dark.
When he smiles back, it’s like the whole world lights up.
And you never want that to change either.
“You think we need to clean this shit up?” He nods around you, making a face as a fresh wave of swamp-stench drifts through the air, and you shake your head.
“Can I suggest an alternate plan?”
Dean nods. “You know I love a backup, sweetheart.”
You flush again, bowing your head to make sure he won’t see. “I vote we just blow it up.”
“That’s a plan.” He bumps your shoulder, and you can hear the joy in his voice. “I’m team blow it up.” He pauses. “Can I-“
“Yeah.” You smile at your feet. “You can do the work.”
“Awesome.” He starts to walk towards the exit, and all you can do is follow him. “Then we’ll get all this shit off us.”
You hum an agreement, and try not to pick apart his happiness too much. It’s always good when Dean is happy, but you’ve developed a bad habit of trying to pinpoint why. If he gets excited when you buy him pie because you bought him pie, or it’s pie. If he grins at you when he sees you because he’s happy to see you, or just to see a friend.
If he just wants to use his grenade launcher, or if he’s happy you gave him a reason to.
It never gets you anywhere, to think of that. And no matter what conclusion you draw, it’s never going to change anything.
But it’s still a fun way to torture yourself. Watching him with a smile as he blasts the old cabin, and the whole thing goes crashing down. Returning his thumbs up with a smile, and giving him a high five when he walks back to the car.
“Another monster, ganked.” He puts the launcher back in the truck, and you hum.
“And it’s a swamp monster. Big day for you.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, guess it is. Didn’t really think about that.”
You blink at him. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs, giving you an odd smile you don’t really understand. “Guess I was worrying about other shit.”
“Other-“
“C’mon.” He raises his voice over yours, grabbing your arms and starting to herd you towards the passenger’s seat. “We gotta get you back to the motel. You’re gonna catch a cold.”
“Me?” You frown at him. “You’ll get one too, Winchester-“
“Nah. I don’t catch colds.”
You snort as he closes the door behind you. You wait for him to get behind the wheel before you’re leaning forward, raising your brows.
“Everyone gets colds, Dean.”
“Not me.” He winks at you, turning on the engine. “I run hot, baby.”
Jesus.
That’s like being doused in gasoline and struck with a match. It is freezing outside—swamp monsters somehow ended up in Montana—and you are drenched in something worse than water, but all you can feel is the wired heat under your skin, as you play that over and over in your head.
It’s just another moment, that means nothing to Dean and everything to you.
But there are so many of them. They make up the tapestry of Dean, that lines your ribs. Remind you over and over that you love him, and every bit of his happiness—whether you’re the direct cause or not—is a rare, priceless gift he gives to so few people.
Dean does love you.
As a best friend.
You really can pretend that’s enough, just as long as it never has to change.
Dean opens the door to the motel room for you, with a wide, smug grin. “You want first shower?”
“Sure, but-“ You flick a chuck of Swamp Monster off his shoulder with a pointed look. “I think you need it more.”
“I’ve been covered in worse.” He shrugs. “You go, I gotta call Sammy and give him the update.”
“Dean, he’s on vacation, don’t bother him-“
“He can pick up the damn phone at the beach.” Dean rolls his eyes. “Eileen won’t care. Go shower, sweetheart.”
You sigh, but give in. Once Dean decides something like that—you aren’t holding your pee for the rest of the drive, they will find a diner that serves Sam’s stupid rabbit food, this place does have a broken heater and Dean’s going to goddamn fix it—there’s no talking him out of it.
And the shower is nice. Warm. The motel shampoo actually smells like something for once—flowers, nice, sweet flowers—and they water is loud enough that, if you lean against the wall and let your hand wander between your legs, Dean won’t be able to hear it.
He never hears it. He doesn’t know that you’d get on your knees for him, if he ever asked. That you’d sleep in his bed and hold him through every nightmare, if he let you.
Dean doesn’t know that you have to bite your tongue to swallow moans, as you think of his hands so easily on your body, and the deep sound of his voice as he said baby, and his eyes, shining on yours. You’ve pictured them above you too many times. Glinting and blown out, as he unravels you below him. Or under you, fluttering and squeezing tight as you ride him. And he’d buck his hips up into you, driving deeper and deeper, and when you moan his name he’d drag you down into a kiss, and all this heat would finally burst into a firework-
You shake, tossing your head back as your release hits. It’s a small one. You’re too tired to do anything properly, and even angling your clit under the water didn’t do as much as you wanted it to. You don’t manage to swallow the squeak of Dean, but the water is still running. You barely heard it. ‘
And as you walk out of the bathroom, Dean’s still on the phone.
You’re in the clear.
He scans over you with a tight frown, and you raise your brows. He just shakes his head, pointing to the phone, and you nod, shuffling over to the bed.
“Listen, uh- Sammy. Sam.” Dean shoots you another look. “I gotta go, man, shower is open- No, I’m not gonna- Sam.” His voice lowers to a hiss, and you smile to yourself. That’s the shut your face voice. Sam’s probably trying to convince him to do something. “No, I ain’t calling you after, bitch, I don’t- Fucking Christ. Yeah. I know.”
He hangs up, and you glance at him, having settled on your bed with a book.
“Not saying bye?”
“He doesn’t deserve it.” Dean grumbles, moving to his feet.
“What did he do-“
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Well,” you wrinkle your nose, leaning forward. “Now I am worried.”
He sighs, running a hand over his face. “It’s not a big thing, sweetheart. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Or, you could tell me now.”
“I, uh- gotta shower.” He makes for the bathroom, and you raise your voice after him.
“Dean-“
“Tomorrow!” He calls over his shoulder, and closes the door behind him.
You sigh, looking back to your book. It’s probably nothing. Dean doesn’t keep big secrets, not from you. If it was something for you to be worried about, he’d probably have told you already, to try and convince you to lay low at the bunker while he and Sam handled it. Your bet is on another hunt, that Sam’s trying to send you on.
Nothing big.
Just more time you get to spend, only you and Dean.
Dean mutters your name from the doorway, and when you look up, your breath hitches in your throat.
There’s steam, billowing out of the bathroom and casting in a halo-like light. His hair is damp and spikey and soft looking, his bare chest looking almost golden—you don’t know how he tans, when you all live in a fucking basement—and water running over his muscles. And you’ve dreamed about pressing your face into his pecs, or scratching at his abs while he kisses you, or kissing over that V before he grabs your hair and pulls you back and stuffs your mouth with-
You cough, and force your attention back to your book. You can’t look at him too long, or you’ll do something really stupid like beg him to fuck you stupid.
“Yeah, Dean?” Your voice isn’t steady, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“I, uh-“ Dean coughs, and you risk a glance up to see him scratching the back of his neck. “You know we ganked those gross assholes real fast. Thought we’d be here longer. And Sam says there’s a story coming, tomorrow, so we’re gonna have to hit the road in the morning.”
“Storm? What storm?” You frown at him, and he gives you an oddly sheepish grin.
“Snow-storm. Supposed to be bordering on a blizzard or something. ‘Less we wanna be stuck here for least a week, we should haul ass soon.”
“Oh.” A week stuck in a motel with Dean doesn’t sound that bad. It would be torture, but the kind of torture that you’d get a thrill out of. The kind that could fuel a lot of dreams for months to come.
Or everything could get fucked up. He’d get sick of you. You’d moan his name in your sleep. Too many things could change, if you were stuck together.
It’s best if you go in the morning.
“I, um-“ You bite on your inner cheek, watching him carefully. “Is that was you were talking to Sam about?”
Dean blinks at you, then nods slowly. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Sure?”
“Sure.” He shrugs. “That’s what we talking about, sweetheart. The storm.”
You narrow your eyes at him—he’s being weird, and you don’t believe him—but Dean only clears his throat and gives you another grin.
“And since we gotta go in the morning, I was ho- Uh, wondering. If you’d wanna get a drink.”
You frown at him again. “We have beers in the fridge, Dean.”
“Yeah. We do.” He mutters, throat bobbing, and you’ve never seen him like this. Looking at the floor a lot. Not walking around with a puffed-out chest and mastered, cowboy swagger. Like he knows how pretty he is, and he’s using it as a shield. Trying to flash bright enough that people won’t see anything but that smooth voice and boyish, charming grin.
You’ve been allowed to see beneath it. Because he’s your friend. Because he’s not trying to impress or trick you. Not trying to sell himself to you, even though you’re kind of already his. He doesn’t care if he gets your love or affection. Some part of you always wonders if he knows he already has it, and that’s why you get to know Dean, the perfect, sweet, broken but strong man, instead of Dean, the sex-god and hunter legend.
And you don’t want to go out drinking with him. You love him. But if you have to watch him flirt with someone else the whole night, you’re going to go find another swamp monster and let it eat you.
You don’t get to open your mouth and tell him that, before he’s continuing on.
“There’s kinda this bar I’ve been dying to check out, since we pulled into down.” His gaze feels like it’s buzzing over your skin. “And we should celebrate. So. Drinks.”
“Drinks.” You repeat, tilting your head at him. He gives you a crooked half-grin and nod, and you pull your lip between your teeth.
He’s being so fucking weird.
“You can go yourself, Dean-“
“No.” He shakes his head, standing up a little taller. “You saved my life tonight. I’m getting you a drink.”
“You’ve saved my life more. And I never buy you a drink.”
“That’s different.” He dismisses you quickly, and you frown.
“How-“
“C’mon,” he drawls your name, his tone almost challenging. “One drink.”
Fuck.
He’s got you. He must know he’s got you, otherwise he wouldn’t have pushed it. All he has to do is poke you, and you cave. Give a mumbled nod and agreement, and trying not to burn from within at his happy grin.
And you don’t know if he’s happy because you said yes to getting drinks, or because he’s getting drinks.
It doesn’t matter.
He’s still happy.
It’s a quick drive, from the motel to the bar. And it’s nice, but not the kind of place you think Dean would be dying to see. It’s just like all other bars you’ve seen, in every corner and county of America. Posters on the walls, dartboards and pool tables, and jukebox that really should be out of commission by now, and dirty, chipping wood tables. The drinks are strong, but no stronger than any other drinks. They’ve got pretty good maraschino cherries, and the bartender doesn’t seem to judge you when you ask for them—which is a plus—but there’s also a gaggle of girls in cowboy hats at the other end of the bar, and you know how this night is going to end.
Or you thought you did.
But they’ve been giggling and shooting looks at Dean all night, and he hasn’t so much as turned around.
“What else do you have on your list?” You ask him, playing with the stem of a cherry, and he frowns at you.
“My list.”
“Your bucket list.”
“I don’t have a bucket-“
“Don’t lie to me, Winchester.” You kick his shin lightly, with a small grin. “It’s not befitting of a lady.”
He snorts. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“I’m not the one being questioned.”
“Oh, I’m bein’ questioned?” He grins, leaning a little closer, and he smells like pine trees. You never should have gotten him that body wash, but you’d also found out he hadn’t been using body wash, and you couldn’t just let that slide. “What’re the charges, sweetheart?”
You shrug. “Lying about your bucket list.”
He opens his mouth, and you give him a flat look.
“I saw it, Dean. You keep it at the bottom of your bag.”
“You-“ He shakes his head. “Why the hell were you looking in my bag?”
You flush, staring down at the cherry stem. The knot won’t stick. “You said I could use your shirt. When mine got vamp blood on it.”
“Right.” He gives you an odd look. “Y’know, I never got that shirt back.”
“Sorry. Forgot.”
You didn’t forget. You keep it in your drawer and sleep in it when you haven’t seen him in a few days. He doesn’t need to know that.
Dean shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s whatever. I got other shirts.” He gives you a small grin. “You remember what else was on that list?”
“Um,” you wrinkle your nose at the air, biting on your lower lip. “Meet Burt Reynolds, save his life. Give Baby guns. Try an Oreo pizza.” You swallow, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on your hands. “Have the sex.” You can’t look at him. Not right now. “Dean, I’m pretty sure you’ve had sex before.”
“Yeah. But this is, uh-“ He coughs. “Special sex.”
That makes you look at him. He’s picking at the label of his beer, a deep frown on his face. He doesn’t want to talk about this. Not with you.
“Well,” you mumble, tugging on your cherry stem. “I think you’ve got three options, if you want to go for that one.”
He glances at you, brow drawn. “What?”
“The cowgirls behind you.” You’re going to rip the stem in half. “I think they’d be down to have the sex with you.”
It’s meant to come out as a joke, but you mostly sound bitter. It’s sour on your tongue, because you hate being jealous. It’s not Dean’s fault he doesn’t see you like that. And you can’t place any claim over him, or even blame the cowgirls for taking him away from you. If you saw Dean in a bar, you’d do the exact same thing. And maybe then he’d give you the lazy, hungry smirk he always gives everyone else. If you could just be a pretty face.
There’s a hollow, vile sneer in the back of your head that reminds you he might not even think you’re pretty, and that’s why you never stood a chance. You’ll drink it away, when he leaves you at the bar.
But he doesn’t. Dean doesn’t even look at them.
He just keeps watching you.
“Nah.” He shrugs, and you blink at him.
“Nah?”
“I got better things to do, sweetheart.”
You stare at him. “Like?”
Dean just grins at you, and that’s not fair. It’s making you feel molten and important, and he doesn’t even mean it like that.
“Alright.” You let out a soft laugh, and that sounds bitter too. “Who even are you?”
“I dunno, sweetheart.” He shrugs. “You tell me.”
“I- I’m-“ You take a sharp drink of your own, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “So you’re not going to flirt with them.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not going to flirt with the dudes watching you.”
You snort. “There are no dudes watching me-“
“Yeah.” His tone has changed. Gotten firmer. Deeper. “There always are.”
“Dean.”
“It’s true. You just never freakin’ see it.”
“What, and you do?”
His jaw tics. “Yeah. I do. Beard and flannel, 2 o’clock.”
You look before you can stop yourself, and he’s right. Over your shoulder is a broad, bearded man, wearing a green flannel and looking right at you. He winks, when you meet his gaze, and you swallow.
“I, um-“ You look back to Dean, who looks oddly annoyed for having pointed the guy out to you. “That’s different.”
Dean let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”
“It is. I don’t do… that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah-“
“So what do I do, sweetheart?”
He’s staring at you, something behind his voice that sounds like it’s important. It’s written all over his face, as well. He still hasn’t looked at the cowgirls. You’re not sure what the fuck is happening.
“I don’t know, Dean.” You murmur, wrapping the stem around your finger like a ring. “What do you do?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. And when you look back up at him, that strange expression has returned. You wait. You’d wait forever.
And you don’t want to say the wrong thing and fuck this—whatever the hell this is, because he’s never looked at you like that before, but it feels like you’re being turned into starlight—up.
“We, uh-“ He cuts himself off with a frown. “You and me. We’ve known each other a while.”
You’ve felt like you’ve known him your whole fucking life. You felt like that almost the first time you saw him. Sort of like you’d looked at him, and known that this always ends with you falling in love.
Another thing he doesn’t need to know.
So you just nod.
“Right.” He glares at the bottle, like it’s personally responsible for something bad happening to him. “And we’ve been through some shit together. I mean, mostly me. Causing you problems-“
“You don’t cause me problems.” You say before you can stop yourself, and he chuckles.
“I know. You always say that. But, uh- I got news for you, sweetheart. I cause you a lot of problems. And,” he raises his voice before you can protest again. “You never give up on me. Shit, I might of given up on me, but you didn’t. You’re always- No matter how shit this gets, it feels alright long as I got you.”
He’s looking at you like you’re supposed to know what that means. When you stare at him back, he just clears his throat.
“You mean a lot to me.” He mutters. “You- Your trust means a lot. More than anyone.”
“Oh- okay.” You feel kind of dizzy. “Cool.”
He swallows. “Yeah. And I know I do go home with other chicks, uh, I- It’s not. It never means anything. They know that. And a lot of them have been in…” His ears go slightly red, his voice dropping lower. “Situations. And that ain’t for to them, or- Yeah. And I always go back in the morning.”
You’re lost. “What?”
He sighs. “I always head back to you, sweetheart.”
“I know, Dean, we live together-“
“No- I mean, yeah, but-“ He sighs, running a hand over his face. “You’re kinda the best friend I’ve ever had,” he grunts your name, and you sit a little taller. “I don’t tell you that enough. And I was- Uh, I’ve been thinking- A lot.”
You’re going to chew through your tongue. “About?”
He stares at you, mouth hanging slightly open, and you wait.
Dean takes a deep breath, his gaze darting over your shoulder, and he shakes his head.
“Nothing, sweetheart. Never mind.”
You frown. This doesn’t feel like a never mind. “Dean-“
“You want some help with that?” He nods to your cherry stem, giving you a bright grin. “I can do it with my tongue.”
His tongue. He can do things with his tongue. And it’s flicking out over his lips, and he’s grinning at you, and you’re the best friend he’s ever had.
Friend.
Best friend.
“I’m okay.” You mumble, fiddling with the stem and dropping it in your glass. “Thank you, though.”
His jaw twitches again, and he opens his mouth, then closes it. The cowgirls seen to have wandered off to another corner of the bar. The music is playing quietly in the background, and it’s not a bad song, but it feels like nail scratching your ears. You just don’t want to hear anything right now, other than what Dean decided not to tell you.
You know he wasn’t building up to the fucking cherry stem. But if you ask, that would be pushing it. And it might not be something you want to hear.
So you let it go, and give Dean a small smile as you stand up.
He frowns. “Where’re you-“
“Bathroom.” You shrug. “Be right back.”
Dean’s hand flexes, like he’s going to try and reach for you. But he doesn’t. So you walk away.
But you smile at him, because you’re pathetic. Smile and squeeze his bicep.
You’d like to run your hand through his hair.
That’s not a friend thing.
The bathroom of the bar is just what you’d expect. Flickering lights, cheap looking stalls, a toilet seat that you’re careful to wipe down, because you really don’t want to round all of this off with an infection.
It hasn’t been the most shit week. You got the monster. Hung out with Dean. Broke your own heart over it, almost every second, but that’s nothing you haven’t been doing for years. And maybe he’s not going to tell you whatever the hell he was building up to, but maybe it’s another thing that’s just not about you. Dean’s being weird because he and Sam are fighting about something stupid. Dean had sounded tense on the phone, earlier.
So it’s not about you. Tomorrow, Sam will probably call you bitching about Dean, and ask you to talk some sense into him. Sam seems to be under the impression that you’re the only person in the world that Dean listens to without question, but you’ve been in multiple situations where that proved not to be true. The time he wouldn’t let you hunt alone, when you asked him to borrow the car to go into the city—which is something he lets Sam do all the time—the kitchen indecent, when he wouldn’t let you help him figure out how to bake a cake for your birthday, the other time he wouldn’t let you hunt alone-
“You should totally go talk to him!” A girl’s voice cuts through the air, and you freeze.
You’d sort of forgotten other people could, hypothetically, use the bathroom.
“No, it’s okay. There are plenty of hot guys in the world, right?” Second voice. Different girl.
“Not hot like that.” The first girl says again. “I mean. He looks like he fell right out of the fucking sky. That’s once in a lifetime hotness.”
Dean. They’re talking about Dean.
Fuck.
You should make your presence known. You should just cough, or say yeah, he’s hot, but he’s got a weird penis. Which would just be possessive—which you’re not doing, you’re not—and a straight up lie. You’ve heard the reviews, from girls in the morning. You’ve heard the sounds, when he used to get separate rooms just to rail women in. Sam would put in headphones with a sigh, and you’d try to pretend it wasn’t happening until you’d heard screams of Dean, and you’d decided to find whatever bar was closest and had the highest cut off.
These girls could be the ones screaming, tonight.
Unless you embraced the jealousy thing, and told them he has a weird penis-
“Yeah, he’s hot, but the woman he was with,” the second girl sighs, and you freeze. Too late to make yourself known. “I think she’s like his girlfriend or something.”
You gape at nothing, and third girl pipes up.
“No, actually, I agree with that. Don’t talk to him, he’s got a girlfriend.”
“Are you kidding me?” The first girl scoffs. “That was not his girlfriend.”
You scowl. She didn’t have to say it like that. She’s right, but she might not have been, and She didn’t have to be rude about it-
“Why not?”
“Because if that’s your boyfriend, you don’t leave him alone in a bar.”
The other two girls make sounds of disagreement, and that shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does.
“No,” the third one says. “Maybe he’s just like, a loyal guy. And she trusts him.”
“Please,” girl two laughs. “Men who look like that aren’t loyal.”
That almost makes you stand up. Dean’s loyal. Arguably, it’s his worst quality, because it’s nearly given both you and Sam multiple aneurysms. You manage only to curl your fists, though. And the second girl continues.
“Like yes, she was really pretty too. And they looked to be having a serious conversation-“
“Which isn’t what people just hooking up do-“
“I know that. But like, he wasn’t touching her. Maybe they were sitting really closer together, and he ordered her those cherries before she asked-“
“That was really cute-“
“Yeah, but, maybe they’re just like friends!”
“Kaylee.” The third girl says, voice flat. “Did you see how he looked at her?”
“No. You’re the one who pretended to go the jukebox.”
“Well, it was like a puppy dog face. He love loves her.”
You feel like you’re being shot. The girls don’t stop talking.
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah, just pretend to walk past them later. It’s super obvious.”
They leave a few minutes after that. And you have to remember how to move your legs, but a lot of things are crashing around in your brain. You’re pretty. You and Dean look cute together.
Dean looks at you like he loves you.
It feels like you’re floating, when you make your way back to the bar. Dean’s fidgeting with his sleeves, mostly staring at his bottle, and when you tap his shoulder, he looks up at you with a frown.
It quickly turns into a grin. And he holds up your folded cherry stem with a proud grin, puffing out his chest.
“Did it while you were gone. In one shot, by the way. You can, uh- Keep it? I dunno. Didn’t think past doin’ it, I guess.”
You give him a softer smile, and tuck the cherry stem into your pants. “I’ll keep it. Thank you.”
“Course.” He shrugs, glancing around the mostly empty bar.
The cowgirls are watching you.
Dean’s hand is resting on your wrist. You’re not sure if he knows he’s doing it, but it’s warm and electric over your whole body.
And when you scan over his face, there’s nothing on it that screams he loves you. That’s just Dean’s face. Maybe the third girl just had too much to drink, or is rooting for him to be in love with you, which is very sweet but overall useless to you-
“You wanna head back?” Dean squeezes your wrist, giving you another easy, causal grin. “We should get our three hours, before we beat the storm.”
You sigh, giving him a tight smile. “It’s eight hours.”
“Yeah, if you’re a health nerd.”
“Dean-“
“It’ll be six hours, if we go now.”
You wrinkle your nose at him, and he just grins back. It really is the same grin he’s always given you. But you hear the cowgirls giggling, when you pass them. They’re probably reading into Dean’s hand, on your back, way too much. You know you have.
But reading too deep into things is what you’re best at.
And now that they’ve mentioned how Dean looks at you, it’s impossible stop.
You’re picking it apart, for the rest of the night. For the entirety of the drive, as you analyze every shift in his face, when he glances your way. How he smirks at you, when he opens your door with a dramatic, sweeping gesture. How he laughs when you roll your eyes, and the face he makes when you mumble that you’re getting changed. Then the face when you come back, and he looks up from the TV.
“Dean.” You lean over the back of the couch, making your voice as firm as possible. “Six hours. You promised.”
He groans, but turns off the TV, and flicks your nose. “After all I do for you, sweetheart, you’re gonna make me sleep?”
“Yep.” He’s so close. You can see every handsome feature of his face. “Go to bed, Dean.”
He grunts and his gaze is trapped right on yours. His eyes are so fucking green, and they’re shining on yours. His breath is warm on your face, and in the cold of the night, it’s impossible to ignore. How all the heat is coming from Dean. You could move. Just an inch. Press your lips against his, and see what it does. Maybe he’d pull you over the couch and into his lap, kiss you until he’s all that you can feel. Until you’re burning alive, but he’s burning with you.
Or it could change everything. And you’d lose your best friend.
You pull back. And don’t look at Dean again, as you go to bed. You need to stop torturing yourself. You’ll do it enough on the car ride tomorrow.
Dean’s true to his word. He goes to the bathroom, takes another shower, then gets into bed right after you. Enough for six hours, even if he’s up first.
He doesn’t wake you up, as he gets ready to go. Packing his bag, then yours, then the remaining supplies. You mostly just drift in and out, listening to him shuffle around the room, pause, then move again. At one point, after you hadn’t shifted around in a while, his hand rests on your brow. And because he thinks you’re just sleeping, you nuzzle into it.
He lingers.
Fingers trace over your face. Your cheeks and nose and eyebrows, then up into your hair.
He sighs, and moves away, and there’s another thing to over think. He could be disappointed in you. Annoyed with you. Tired of you. Just tired overall, and that was a yawn. But Dean doesn’t really yawn.
He also doesn’t just touch people’s faces.
But-
“Son of a bitch?”
Your eyes shoot open, and you sit up in a second, reaching for your gun. No one seems to be in danger. Dean’s glaring out the window.
You rub your eyes, pushing up to your knees. “Dean, what’s wrong?”
“Come look.” He mutters, and you shuffle to your feet, peering out the window.
“Oh.” You whisper, and he chuckles.
“Yep.”
You didn’t beat the storm.
The storm beat you. The world is all gray and white, falling snow and sheets of white over the whole world.
So you’re trapped in the motel. With Dean
———
“We did try to leave early.” Dean grunts into the phone and you sigh, holding your knees to your chest on the bed.
It took five hours for the storm to clear enough that Dean could call Sam. Another hour for Sam to pick up, because he is on vacation.
And you’re not sure how you’re going to survive this.
Not the storm. The storm will be easy. You’re what Dean’s called paranoid—but is proving itself to just be prepared—and there’s no possible way you’re going to run out of food. The water is still running, as it electricity. The heater did break again, but Dean’s spent the last two hours on his knees, trying to fix it.
Most of his tools are both for cars, and in the car.
He’s improvised.
And he’d given you this big, boyish and proud grin, when he’d realized he could use the wire hooks without being electrocuted. And that’s why you’re not going to survive this.
You’re trapped with Dean. And his smiles and voice and body and general everything. It’s one room—two if you count the bathroom—and it’s just you and Dean. No buffer to stop you from saying something stupid, like how you love him. No distractions, because the electricity is working but this motel only has cable, and that’s down. Just you and Dean.
“Fuckin’ Christ.” Dean mutters under his breath, shooting you an odd look.
You mouth what back at him.
He rolls his eyes, and mouths back Sam, before speaking aloud. “Yeah, I know how waitin’ out storms works, Sam, I freakin’ taught you- We ain’t gonna run out of water, this isn’t a drought, we can drink the snow- I’m not drinking it right now.”
You giggle, and Dean gives you a flat look. You only shrug in return, and that eye roll is for you, but you don’t really care. At least it’s for you.
“No.” Dean turns back to the heater, his voice having dropped. “I ain’t doing that. No- Sam. Shut your face or I’m calling Eileen and telling her she’s got a funeral to attend. Not mine-“
Dean groans, running a hand over his face, and you climb out of the bed. The blankets have to stay wrapped around you—it’s fucking freezing—but you can still help. You kneel down at his side, holding out your hand and nodding to the hanger. Dean frowns at you and shakes his head, and you flex your fingers, giving him a pointed look.
He pulls the phone away, covering the speaker—Sam’s voice muffled through his hand—and grunts, “I got it, sweetheart. Go back to bed.”
“Dean.” You sigh, just grabbing it out of his hand. He doesn’t fight you, just staring as you shift on your knees. “Finish your phone call.”
He opens his mouth to say something, then sighs, and nods. He squeezes your shoulder, as he moves to his feet, and you watch him walk to the other side of the room.
You’ve been studying his face all morning. The cowgirl’s words haven’t stopped replaying. He looks at you like he loves you.
But you really don’t think he does.
He’d given you tight smiles all morning, until you’d finished sorting the supplies and decided that you’d easily survive this without eating each other.
“If we don’t have enough,” he’d said, hanging over your shoulder. “I want you to eat me.”
You’d sighed, and whacked his thigh. Better not think about how firm it had been. How if you turned your head, you would have been at perfect eye level with his bulge. And it had been freezing, but that was the kind of heat that was going to kill you just as much as it made you come alive. Now, trapped in a motel during a blizzard, was not the time to test the waters of how much Dean would want you. You’d rather turn to ice than have to spend a whole week, awkwardly pretending you hadn’t come onto Dean and gotten rejected.
“I’m not going to eat you, Dean.” You’d muttered, and he’d shaken his head.
“I’m telling you to eat me, sweetheart.” He’d dropped at your side, and you’d focused on your sorting. If you looked at Dean, you’d stare and try to figure out if he loved you. “It’s my last wish. You not gonna honor a dying man’s last wish.”
“No.”
“That’s pretty damn rude-“
“You’re not dying.” You’d looked at him, because you’re weak. No promise you ever made yourself about Dean lasted more than about twenty minutes, because most of them were don’t look at him or don’t talk to him, and actually committing to that would mean more change.
He hadn’t been looking at you like he loved you.
It had just been the same way he always looks at you. Open, handsome, with a small grin and light in his eyes.
That’s just his stupid, pretty face. And it had been hard to keep pretending to be annoyed with him, when this was the first real smile he’d given you all morning.
“We’ve got enough.” You mumbled, your eyes seemingly trapped on his. “I- I won’t need to eat you.”
“Awesome.” He’d grinned at you, and you’d swallowed, and nodded.
That was just another expression he always made. It didn’t mean anything.
He is scowling at the air, now that he’s focused on his phone call. He hasn’t looked at you like that, ever. But you also haven’t been saying anything to piss him off.
It’s very rare, that you actually do piss Dean off.
But you’re his best friend, so that can’t mean much.
You have to drag your gaze back to the heater. You’re going to drive yourself out of your mind, before you even hit day five.
Dean keeps talking, and it sounds like a serious conversation—serious enough that you’re not allowed to hear it, which you’re trying and failing not to read into, but it can just be another way to fucking torture yourself—when you hear the rattling buzz from the heater that means it’s working.
You turn to Dean with a wide grin, sitting up straight and making a ta da gesture to your work, and he grins at you again. Gives you a thumbs up, even his brows remain furrowed at whatever Sam is saying.
“Sam.” He grunts, walking towards you. “I’m going.”
There’s a sound of protest from the other end of the line, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing again.
“I know how rationing works, Sam, I taught you that shit, too- No, we’re not fuckin’ talking about that- Bye.”
Dean hangs up, Sam’s voice dying mid-sentence, and you give him a curious look.
“Not talking about what?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dean mutters your name, crouching down at your side and scanning over the heater. “Nice work.”
That shouldn’t make you flush as much as it does. But Dean’s really close, and he’s praising you, and suddenly the room has spiked from freezing cold to almost insufferably hot.
“Thanks,” you mumble, and Dean just shrugs, clapping you on the shoulder. The way he would a friend.
“No problem. So.” He scans around the room, and his brow pinches together the moment he’s not looking at you.
He’s thinking. That’s all it means.
“We got food, water, heat, shelter.” Dean says, mostly to himself. “Overall we’re not half fucked.”
“Only a quarter.”
Dean snorts, and his brows un-pinch as he looks at you.
Which still probably means nothing.
“What do you think that quarter fucked is, sweetheart?”
Him. Being trapped with him. Already starting to spiral about what everything he does and says means, if this is going to make things change, if he’s going to get sick of you, if he does look at you different. You really can’t tell anymore. You might have already gone mad, or the heat is just getting to your brain.
Making you hallucinate how close he is. How his attention on you is undivided, how his thumb is rubbing small circles where it’s still resting on your shoulder.
That’s your quarter fucked.
But you also know what Dean’s is, so you say that instead.
“No TV.” You give him a mock pout, and he lets out a dramatic groan.
“It’s not funny, sweetheart-“
“Yeah, it is.”
“You’re saying that now, but what are you gonna do when you get sick of talking to me?”
You frown at him. “I won’t get sick of talking to you.”
He scoffs. “Sure-“
“I’m serious, Dean.” You lean forward, which is a mistake. He steadies you with a hand on your knee. He’s still like a furnace. You’re going to catch his heat and melt into nothing. “I won’t get sick of you. Are-“ You swallow. You shouldn’t ask it. “Will you-“
“No.” He mutters, scanning over your face. “But I still miss TV.”
You give him a small smile, a weightlifting off your chest. “It’s been like, twelve hours.”
“Fifteen.”
You laugh at his grumpy face, and his lips twitch.
“We’ll find something to do, Dean.” You cup his face as you move to your feet. He might have leaned into your touch. Another thing to pretend not to think about. “I promise.”
———
“Checkmate.”
Dean groans, leaning over the board with a glare. “No, that’s- Son of a bitch.” He looks up at you with wide eyes. “I fuckin’ had it, sweetheart, what the hell.”
You shrug, starting to reset the pieces. “You never had it, Mr. Winchester. You’re a fool and your knowledge of the gentleman’s game is weak.”
He snorts. “I think you’re just cheating.”
“Maybe.” You grin at him. “But if I am, you haven’t caught me.”
“So you have been-“
“Do you have proof?”
Dean sighs, and grumbles, “No.”
You hum. “Innocent until proven guilty.”
“Or until you admit it.”
“I’ve never admitted anything. In my life.”
Dean raises his brows. “Half an hour ago, you told me you used to sing lyrics to classical music.”
You flush, and throw a pawn at his face. “That was a secret-“
“I haven’t told anyone! I’m just sayin’ back to you what you said to me-“
“Well, you used to name your toy cars after different cartoon characters-“
“Hey.” Dean wields the pawn at you like a knife, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t bring She-Ra the Pontiac into this.”
He glares at you, you glare right back, and there’s only a beat of silence before you both burst out laughing.
This has been most of the last two days. You’d raided the entire room, to see exactly what type of amenities were provided, and found mostly paper, meaning that you and Dean spent most of last night playing drawing games. He drew genuinely the worst tiger you’ve ever seen, and you drew a snake so worm-like he spent twenty minutes laughing on the ground. This morning—before you got up—he went outside during a brief lull in the storm, grabbed your playing cards from the trunk of Baby, and raided the lobby for board games.
He beat you at two-person poker, twice. You won gin rummy, and cribbage, so he insisted on a third poker round. You know he just wanted it to win again. But you love him—and his stupid, dopey grin whenever he does something well—so you let him have it. And he did win. But you kicked his ass in Candyland.
Dean said this one was a kid’s game, so it didn’t count.
You’d pulled out the chess, after that.
This is your fifth win in a row. And you’re not cheating.
But Dean is adorable when he’s grumpy. And just for now, you’re giving up on trying not to look at him too long. You won’t mess up, because this is already such a fragile situation. You’re on a high alert to not do anything too obviously in love with him. And already spent all of last night with the sheets tangled between your legs, looping over and over how Dean had made you dinner. Stared at you when you’d come out of the bathroom in a towel and coughed. Talked to you until two in the morning, because for once neither of you had anywhere to be in the morning.
In a very, very strange way, this feels like a vacation. A precarious one, where you’ve sealed over half the things you want to say to him—I love you, Dean, I want you, I spent that whole shower thinking about what it would feel like if you were with me, on your knees or behind me or anything, I’d take anything—and allowed yourself to look at him to keep it together. To keep him from noticing.
It would be suspicious, if you didn’t look at him. And it’s quelling that unending heat, in your body.
You’re going to get through this. Walk out the other side, with only good memories, and nothing changed.
You’re probably going to be trying to figure out how Dean looks at you forever, but that’s only hurting you, so it’s fine.
It’s all just fine.
“No more chess.” Dean grumbles, grabbing a rook out of your hands and bumping it on your nose. You blink at him kind of stupidly. He doesn’t seem to notice. “Let’s go back to cards.”
You take the rook back, poking it into his chest. “Why, so you can win poker?”
He shrugs with a grin, and you sigh.
“How about war? No skill. Just luck.”
Dean frowns. “I got shit luck, sweetheart.”
“And I don’t?”
“Better than mine.” He mutters under his breath, and you frown.
There’s something heavy to his tone that you don’t understand. But before you can try and find the words to ask him about it, he’s moving on.
“One poker game, just to level out the field. C’mon. I’ll make you lunch?”
“And- Do I not get lunch if I say no?”
“No, but this doesn’t work if you keep bringin’ reason into it, sweetheart.”
“Sorry.” You pick at your nails, giving him a small smile, and he sighs.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. But if we play war, I’m shuffling.”
You nod, giving him a wider smile, and his jaw twitches. It’s been doing that a lot, today. You spent most of breakfast staring at it, trying to figure out what it meant. Probably just that he’s tense, from the stress of the situation. Even though it started last night. And overall, the situation hasn’t been all that stressful.
Again. Trying not to think about it.
“Deal.” You hold out your hand, and Dean shakes it. His hand fits perfectly, in yours. It always has. You’ve had a lot of fantasies about just Dean’s hands, alone.
And it’s impossible not to stare, as he shuffles. His fingers have always moved so deliberately, with such exact, measured movements, and they’re big and thick and rough, and when you passed him the cards, he’d touch your forearm and you felt like you were going to fly out of your skin-
“Ready?” Dean nods to the pile of cards in front of you, and you blink.
Right.
The game.
“Ready.” You mutter, sounding breathier than you meant to, but you’d also worked yourself into a small frenzy, thinking about his hands. His smirk isn’t helping.
You really don’t think he knows, exactly what he does to you.
But if he does, this is downright cruel.
“Alright,” he drawls your name, picking up his own deck with a dramatic roll of his shoulders. “Let’s skirmish.”
You laugh—it’s stupid, but you always laugh—and Dean’s grin widens.
It’s not clear if he’s smiling because you laughed, or just he got a laugh.
You really have to stop picking yourself apart like this.
The first few flips run by, and soon you’re not even counting down to flip anymore. You and Dean have gotten somehow merged your game brains, and you’re flipping in perfect sync. You’re winning most of them. Dean hasn’t seemed to notice yet.
“Would you rather be attacked by a duck, or a hippo.”
You blink at him, flipping over another card. “What kind of question is that, obviously-“
“Wait.” He grins at you. “The duck has a gun, and the hippo is a baby.”
“Oh.” You tilt your head at the air. “Does the duck know how to use the gun?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, and is the hippos mom around?”
Dean frowns. “Why does that matter.”
“Mothers are incredibly aggressive when their babies are threatened, Dean. A grown mom hippo kill me.”
“Huh. Well, we don’t want that.” His brow furrows, and you try not to let that make you feel too gooey. “Let’s call it that the mom hippo is around, but far enough that she won’t know if you’re careful.”
“Careful? The hippo is attacking me-“
“So you gotta kill it.”
You gape at him. “I’m not killing a baby hippo, Dean.”
“Fair.” He nods, flipping over a nod. “So you’re going Gun Duck.”
“Do I get a gun?”
“If you can take his.”
“I can do that.” You watch him grab the cards he won. He’s rolled up his sleeves, so you can see his forearms. It’s distracting. “What would you choose?”
“Gun Duck.” Dean shrugs. “I think I could take that mama hippo, though.”
You snort. “No, you couldn’t.”
He gives you a mock look of offense. “Sweetheart, I’ve fought the Devil-“
“Hippos kill 500 people a year, Dean.”
He scoffs. “So?”
“So there are about 180 plane crashes a year.” You give him pointed a look and he gulps, going a little pale.
“Good point. No hippos.”
You hum, pulling more of your own cards forward. “Would you rather live on the moon, or underwater?”
Dean pauses, thinking about it as you both flip. “The moon. Space would be pretty awesome. Can I guess your answer?”
You nod, a little desperate to know what he thinks you’re going to say, and he grins at you.
“Underwater.”
You keep your face perfectly neutral. “Why?”
“Because you think space is scary.”
“The bottom of the ocean is scarier.”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t live at the bottom of the ocean.” He gives you a look like that’s obvious, and sighs when you just stare at him. “I think you’d be like, a lady of the lake or whatever.”
“A-“ You blink at him. “Like in King Arthur?”
“Yeah.” He grins at you, wide and toothy. “I’d be a pretty awesome King, right. I’d get to sit at the round table.”
“Sure,” you return his grin, setting out three cards. “What are your stances on tithes and feudalism?”
“Uh.” He makes his tight, adorable thinking expression—the one where he’s really trying, but doesn’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about—and you want to kiss him all over his stupid face. “Anti?”
You hum and nod, and he raises his brows.
“Was that right?”
“I don’t know, you’re the King.”
“Yeah, but you’re my- Lady advisor.”
You snort. “Lady Advisor?”
“The- Guinevere lady-“
“That was Arthur’s wife.” You say, and it’s really hard to sound causal about that. “And she cheated on him with his best friend.”
Dean recoils slightly, shaking his head. “Okay, so you ain’t that.”
You give him a cautious look. “Do I have to be something, in your fantasy land?”
“Course you do, sweetheart.” He says that like it’s obvious, too. “It ain’t a fantasy land if you’re not there.”
You flush, and Dean sits a little taller, clearing his throat. You don’t know if he meant it like that. He probably didn’t. But now he’s not looking you in the eyes, and he probably thinks he’s leading you on—even if he doesn’t know he doesn’t need to put you on a leash or offer you a reward, you’d follow him to the end of the earth no matter what—and things are going to change-
“I’m the Lady of the Lake.” You mumble, folding a card between your finger and giving him a small smile. “Of course I’m in your fantasy.”
He coughs, but grins at you, and he’s ears are red again.
Don’t think too much into it.
“Awesome.”
———
It’s only been three days.
You’re falling into a far too comfortable pattern.
Dean makes you breakfast, you do lunch, he does dinner. You play card games and talk, Dean goes out to check that nobody’s stolen Baby—it doesn’t matter how many times you tell him that won’t happen, he has to do it anyway—and you make him hot chocolate for when he gets back. You spent most of today talking about superheroes, Dean hanging your paper stars on the ceiling because he’s perfect, and you don’t know how you were ever supposed to not fall in love with him.
“Can I have the purple?” You ask, and he passes the marker to you with a small grin.
“I still don’t understand why you these in the car, sweetheart.”
“For organizing. Duh.”
“Right. Duh.” He chuckles, nudging your side with his foot, and you squeak.
“Dean-“
“Sorry.” He laughs above you, and he kind of looks like a God. Big and strong and handsome, so far above you, so untouchable, but offering you more with his joy than you can understand.
Because you haven’t seen Dean this happy in years. He’s fully relaxed, he’s not scanning around every few seconds to check that everyone is safe, and he’s still sleeping with his gun under his pillow—that’s never going to change—but when you woke him up this morning, you didn’t end up with the barrel in your face.
It’s probably because there are no threats.
It’s getting harder and harder to think it’s not about you.
“Can you pass me my book?”
“Sure.” He shuffles away, and your body seems to want to follow him, which isn’t fair. “What, you gonna use the pages to make more stars?”
“Don’t joke about that.” You mutter, frowning at the star in your hands. “I just want to use this one as a bookmark.”
Dean just hums, and the book is passed into your hands as he sits at your side. “You, uh- Liking it?”
You angle your head to see him, and he’d grabbed a beer while he was getting your book. He’s picking at the label again. His jaw is ticking.
You really don’t know how to ask him what that’s about.
“The book.” He adds—after you’re quiet for a beat too long—giving you a sheepish grin. “How are you liking the book.”
“Oh. It’s- Good. I’ve always wanted to read it, and I- yeah.” He’s sitting too close. It’s making you short circuit.
Dean just nods, turning the bottle in his hands. “So it’s on your bucket list?”
He gives you a half-grin, and that makes you almost go limp. He’s smiling at you like it’s a secret. Like it’s something only you get to know about, even if it was because you accidentally snooped.
You smile back. It always makes his grin wider, and his shoulders relax, and that could be about you-
No.
You’re not doing that.
“Maybe.” You shrug, and he raises his brows.
“You gonna tell me what else is on there?”
You sit up, holding his gaze. Your knees are bumping together. You could swear his eyes widen slightly.
“The sex.” You whisper, and he groans, shaking his head and looking back to his bottle with a tight smile as you giggle.
“Bet you’re proud of that one.”
“I am.” You poke his thigh, lying back down as his nostrils flare, and he gives you an odd look.
“You should write one.” He says suddenly. “We got a shit ton of paper. Sammy says they’re good for you to do. Reckon with your own mortality or something.”
You snort, fiddling with one of the stars. “Like you’ve ever reckoned with your mortality-“
“I’m serious,” he says, and when you look back up, he’s staring right into you. “It’s useful. Sammy’s usually out of his freakin’ mind, with that therapy bullshit, but-“ He sighs, tipping his head back to rest against the bed. “It’s not half bad.”
He glares at the ceiling, as if he can’t believe what he’s saying, and you take a risk. It won’t change anything. You’ve comforted him before, and he’s comforted you, so this won’t change anything.
“Dean.” You murmur, resting your hand on his thigh. “I believe you, I just- I don’t want that many things.”
“Everyone wants things.” He mutters, and you shake your head.
“Not me.”
He finally looks at you, and that strange expression has returned. His eyes lock onto yours, and there seems to be a heaviness to him that you’ve never really seen before. You smile at him gently, and his lips only twitch. He’s looked at you like this before, as well. In the dead of night, when he woke up shouting and you were the only one who heard.
But you’ve never seen it in the light before.
And it’s the way he always looks at you, but more. His eyes are softer, but his jaw is clenched so tight you’re worried he’ll hurt himself. There are deep lines on his face that you want to trace with your fingers, and his lips are in a tight line you want to pry open with your tongue.
“Nothin’ you want, huh.” his voice is deeper than only a moment before, almost a little hoarse.
You sigh, your eyes darting to your hand, still resting against him. “Nothing I can have.”
He gives you a curious look. “What, going back to civilian life?”
“No. Never.” You bite on your inner cheek, playing with the fabric of his jeans. “You’re stuck with me, Winchester. Sorry.”
He lets out a low laugh, leaning back once more. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I think I’ll live.”
———
Dean taps on the top of your head, and you look up to find him grinning down at you, holding your book.
“What-“
“I read it.” He stands a little taller, seeming to puff out his chest. “You were right, sweetheart, it’s pretty good.”
“It’s- The book?” You blink at him. “You read the book?”
“All of it. Except the acknowledgments.”
“Yeah, you don’t really have to read the acknowledgments-“ You shake your head, chewing on your tongue. “Why did you read the book.”
“I dunno. You,” he gently bops your head with the book. “Fell asleep early. And you didn’t stop reading it yesterday, so- I dunno. Wanted to see what the big deal was.”
You nod, watching him carefully. “And you liked it?”
“Sure.” He pauses. “Did you like it?”
“Yes.” You whisper, and you’re not sure why this is hitting you in the chest so hard. It’s just a book.
But he read it for you.
And he’s been looking at you all week. Laughing with you. Not pushing you away or shutting you out when the conversations get too serious. Acting like you’re the only two people in the word, which is what it feels like.
It’s just you and Dean. In this room, and—even though you know that it’s not true, that he’ll probably turn around and walk right into another bed when you’re free—in the whole fucking universe.
It’s really impossible to think that none of this is about you, now. It probably isn’t, but playing pretend is getting easier and easier. You’re not getting sick of him. He’s not getting sick of you.
And if you never had to leave, you might ask him. If he’s happy here with you, or just happy here. If he thinks he looks at you differently, if there was any truth to what the cowgirls said.
If he really was never going to go home with them.
What the hell he was going to tell you, at the bar.
If he can feel how humid it is, here. How outside, the storm is still raging, but in here your skin is hot and sweaty because Dean’s been pulling your legs over his lap when you’re on the couch. And the steam keeps following him out of the shower and into your dreams.
Last night you had to take an emergency shower, because you’d had a fucking wet dream. It had been all hands and lips, everywhere over your body at once. Soft on sensitive skin and rough on your neck and tits and between your legs. You’ll woken up with your hair stuck to your brow, and your hips grinding into the mattress. Chasing release in nothing, until you’d scrambled into the bathroom, turned on the water, and finished where he wouldn’t hear you.
Couldn’t hear you.
Didn’t hear you.
Dean couldn’t have heard you. If he had, he wouldn’t be looking at you right now. He’s been trying to let you down gently, instead of sitting right next to you. Waiting for your attention. Pressing his thigh into yours.
Best friend.
He’s comfortable with you because you’re his best friend. And you’re getting really, really bad at remembering that.
But he’s really not making it easy.
“You- Uh-“ He clears his throat. “You ever think about how Sammy’s doing?”
“Like- Emotionally?”
“No, like-“ Dean lets out a slow breath, watching you so carefully it feels like he’s pulling you apart. “With this life he’s got goin’ for himself. Less hunting, more time with the missus. Thinking about that white picket fence, payin’ taxes, apple pie shit. You ever think about that?”
You swallow, and speak slowly. This sort of feels like a warzone. You don’t want to misstep.
“Sometimes.” With you. “I- I mean, I have the dream.”
“The dream?”
You nod, and he frowns.
“I thought you didn’t want things.”
“I don’t want things I can have.” You correct, and Dean raises his brows.
“It’s a dream, sweetheart. Doesn’t gotta be something you can have, think that’s the whole freakin’ point.” He pauses. “I’ve told you about my dreams.”
Fuck.
“I- Don’t know.” Your gaze drops to your hands, but Dean’s gaze keeps searing over your skin. “It’s dumb.”
“Nah. You’re never dumb.”
Fuck. “Dean-“
“You don’t have to tell me.” He mutters, something oddly edged in his tone. “But I’m here. If you wanna-“
“I’d like it.” You cut him off softly, and he stills at your side. “What Sam’s doing. I mean- Not exactly that. But we- I would kind of want both, I think. Keep helping, even if it’s mostly research. Having something good, my way.”
You give Dean a small, nervous smile, and his mouth is hanging open. He’s closer than he was, only a second ago. You could lean forward and bump your noses together, if you tried.
And you want to.
But Dean’s just staring at you, and your knees are starting to feel weak, despite sitting down.
“Why isn’t that something you can have?” Dean’s voice is so low you can almost feel it in your chest, and he only seems to be getting closer.
“Because there’s no one I can do that with.” You say, before you can think about it, and Dean’s jaw twitches.
He’s so fucking close. You can really smell that pine tree wash. Your heartbeat is in your ears, along with a strange rattle that’s bouncing around your skull with every heated thought—his hand wandering up your leg and between your thighs, his body covering yourself, his lips wherever the hell he wants them, as long as it’s on your skin—and most of your brain is just a haze of Dean.
But you can’t move first. Things can’t change, when this inevitably ends.
The rattling sound is getting too loud to just be the hunger, bouncing around your ribs.
“The heater is making noise again.” You whisper, and Dean licks his lips, his voice still low and hoarse.
“It’ll be fine,” he mutters. “You fixed it.”
That is not a good enough reason for it to be fine, no matter how confident and smooth Dean says it. Even if it ignites in your lower gut, and spreads humid between your thighs. “But-“
“You want dinner?”
You frown. “It’s my night-“
“It’s fine.” He moves to his feet suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh- Pasta. And those frozen meatballs, we haven’t used them yet.”
“At least let me help.” You try to stand up, but Dean just blocks you, shaking his head. “Dean-“
“I got it, baby. Don’t worry about it.”
You don’t argue with him after that. Not because he’s right—he’s not—but because you’ve forgotten how to walk. Or talk. Or do anything at all.
Baby.
Dean called you baby.
———
He doesn’t do it again. Not for the rest of the night, or in the morning. The next day is mostly spent making up a new card game, that’s mostly based on you and Dean yelling at each other, and trying to steal cards. At one point he tackles you, starting a mock wrestling match, and it’s like being tossed into a wildfire. You giggle too much. Give in too fast.
Dean stands abruptly, and goes to the bathroom for twenty minutes after that.
You don’t think that’s about you. Not when he immediately drags you to your feet and announces that he’s ready to learn how Zodiac signs work. If he was pissed at you—if something had changed—he wouldn’t be talking to you at all. But he doesn’t move from your side for the rest of the day.
So the heat doesn’t die.
Not until you crawl into bed, and the heater stops rattling.
Stops all together.
And everything starts to freeze.
For the first hour, you try to just bundle yourself as tight as you can, burrowing yourself in the blankets and curling up in a ball. But the temperature drops faster and faster, and these are motel sheets. Thinner than they should be, a little itchy, and not made to withstand the cold of a blizzard. Your fingertips start to go numb, and you can feel the cold almost in your bones, until you have to clench your jaw to stop your teeth from chattering.
Dean’s snoring soundly, in his own bed. You don’t even think he’s realized how cold it’s gotten.
But the man runs like a furnace. A warm, big furnace that could wrap around you, and make you warm, so fucking warm-
You sit up, and stare at him in the dark. Just as handsome as always, with all the panes of his face cast in sharp long shadows that only make him more beautiful. You could easily lose yourself kissing along his jawline or running your finger through his hair. Sitting in his lap and pressing your face into his chest, just feeling him until the whole world is lighter.
And this isn’t about that.
It can’t be. You roll out of bed—keeping the blankets wrapped around you—and this isn’t about how you’re in love with Dean. If it becomes that, you’ll spiral into what every single brush of his skin and breath means. You’ll stare at him all night instead of sleeping, and he’ll notice, and you’ll ruin everything.
So it’s just about heat.
You nudge his arm, and drop your voice to a loud whisper. “Dean.”
He grunts, and you sigh, poking him again.
“Dean.”
He rolls over, making a low sound like your name, and his hand rests over yours as his eyes flutter. He looks so comfortable. Peaceful. At complete ease, in a way you’ve almost never seen.
It’s so fucking selfish to wake him up, just for you.
But another chill runs through your body, and you don’t have another choice.
“Dean.” You shove him gently, and he makes an adorable grumbling sound, slowly opening his eyes.
“What- What’s’a matter.” He frowns around the dark, then up at you. His hand over yours tugs you a little closer.
It doesn’t mean anything.
“I’m cold.” You whisper, he frowns, and this was stupid. “Never mind. I’m sorry, I just- I’ll go back to bed-“
“Wait, just-“ Dean pulls you back with a small yelp, and his hand rests over your brow. “Son of a bitch, sweetheart, you’re freezing.”
“I- I know.”
“Well, we gotta-“ He cuts himself off, scanning over you carefully as his nostrils flare.
You just stare at him back, and whatever he can see on your face, it’s what he wants.
Dean gives you a tight nod, and throws open his blanket. “C’mere.”
“No- It’s okay- I’ll be fine-“
“You’re already not fine-“
“But you don’t have to-“Dean grunts your name, and it’s a good thing he can’t see the flush of your cheeks. “Get in the fuckin’ bed. Please.”
Please.
He did say please.
You crawl onto the mattress, and before you can build any sort of safety barrier between your bodies, Dean’s pulling you right into his chest. And that’s enough to make the heat spike and return, stronger than before. But then he bows his head so his lips brush over your hairline, and his hands dive just under your shirt to rub your skin, and his legs tangled with yours until all you can feel is Dean.
Hot.
So fucking hot, you’re worried you’re going to evaporate and turn into nothing but steam.
“Relax.” He mutters, deep and right in your ear, and you almost go limp in his arms. “There you go. Warmer?”
You hum—speaking feels like a taller order right now—nodding against his shoulder, and Dean lets out a slow breath.
“Good. Go to sleep, sweetheart, I’ll fix it for you in the morning.”
He’ll fix it. For you. Dean will fix it for you.
That’s about you.
And he’s fixing it now. But not in the way he probably thinks.
You’re warm, but you can’t fall asleep. Also you can think about his Dean’s fingers, brushing over your spine and spending smaller, pleasurable shivers through your body. His knee is pressed far too close to the painful ache between your legs. His breath his fanning over your brow, and he’s wrapped an arm around you to pin you right against him. Every inch of your body feels alight, just in his presence. The heat between your legs is almost painful, and when you rub your thighs together, you can feel your arousal.
You’ve never been hotter in your life. You’re on fucking fire, trapped in Dean’s everything, and there’s no fucking way you’re going to do anything but memorize him. The way his body shifts, how it feels to be swimming in him, and the feel of his strength keeping you so tight.
You can hear his heartbeat.
It’s faster than you thought it would be.
And when you wiggle in his arms a little, trying to get more comfortable, his fingers curl on your back and he holds you tighter.
“Don’t move.” He almost growls in your ear, and you swallow.
“Dean?” You whisper, and he grunts, the sound vibrating through your whole body. “My leg is falling asleep.”
He moves you without another word, but the friction just makes you hornier. And now his lips are pressed against your neck, making your core molten and forcing a soft, high sound from your throat.
Dean tenses around you, immediately pulling away and readjusting you again, but you don’t get the chance to over think it.
Because you feel it, first.
His erect cock, pressed right over your pussy.
You lean back to stare at him, your mouth hanging open, and Dean looks at you like he’s looking at the sun. His jaw is clenches, his features blown out with hunger, and his fingers on your spine have started a soft, slow dance that makes you arch into his touch.
His eyes flick down to your lips, and then expression he gives you is almost pleading. His thumb traces over the shape of your lower lip as you try to remember how to speak, or move, or do anything.
Then he mutters your name, dropping his brow against yours, and you grind fully into his knee.
“God, fuckin’-“ Dean groans, his lips so close you can almost feel them. “Tell me I can, baby. Please. Let me- Fuck-“
You can’t remember how to speak.
But Dean’s knee pressed right against your clit, and it jumpstarts your memory of how to move.
You grab his face, and slam your lips over his. He responds in a second, flipping you flat on your back and dropping his hips, keeping you pinned beneath him. He’s rough, hot and wet and desperate, with grabbing your jaw and angling it back, using his tongue and lips and teeth until you’re slack in his hands.
He pulls back suddenly, examining you for a second before starting to kiss on your neck. Sucking small spots that feel like flares, sparking through your body and making you squirm with a desperation for more.
“Dean-“ You gasp, tugging at his hair as you try to spread your legs. “I- I need- Dean-“
“I know.” He growls against you, his teeth grazing over a soft spot, and you arch off the bed with a high whine. His free hand finds its way between your legs, cupping your pussy over your clothing, and you gasp, wiggling until his palm is pressed against your clit. “Heard you callin’ for me last night, baby. Christ, you have no goddamn idea how much I- Fuck-“
You start to grind into him, and Dean rises over you, something like awe written all over his face.
“That bad, huh.” He mutters, and you nod weakly. “You want me? Gonna let me warm you up?”
You don’t know why he’s doing this. Don’t know what it will bring in the morning.
All you know right now is that Dean’s pulled your pants down, and is teasing your slit over your underwear with two broad fingers. That he’s above you, and looking at you like he wants to eat you alive.
So you nod, letting your brain turn into only a fog of Dean and good, so fucking good.
And Dean grins.
A sharp, almost predatory grin that makes your breath hitch in your throat, and your hips jolt as he flicks your clit. He gives you a deep, heavy kiss, pressing his tongue between your lips and down your throat, all while circling his thumb right around your clit, and you’re melted within seconds.
“Can you say it?” He drawls, his lips still brushing right over yours, and you just blink at him through the daze. “Say it, baby. Tell me what you want.”
He rests his thumb right over your clit, his fingers playing with the wet spot on your panties, and you just manage to whine out what he wants to hear.
“Touch me.” You gasp, and he chuckles, giving you a soft, rewarding kiss.
“Good girl.” He hums, and you don’t even have time to register how that makes your moan before Dean’s moving.
Your shirt gets pulled over your head, as he kisses down your neck and over your shoulders. Dean makes a small stop at your tits, taking one in his hand to palm and knead, the other being almost attacked by his mouth. Licking and sucking and kissing everywhere he can reach, before pulling your nipple between his teeth. He groans as you shiver and writhe below him, switching his attentions until you’re flushed and tugging at his hair, silently pleading for more.
He hums, kissing over the curve of your breast before continuing down. Under the covers where you can’t see him, making every single touch even more electric. Your eyes close as he gently works over your stomach abdomen, gasp when he nips at your inner thigh, and fist the sheets as you try to guess where he’s going to be next.
Dean kisses your clit softly, over your panties, and he squeezes your ass as he slowly pulls your hips off the mattress.
You hold your breath, when you feel the cool air hit your dripping cunt.
And Dean doesn’t move right away.
His breath is warm over your pussy, his stubble brushing sensitive skin as he kisses your thigh, but he’s not touching you. All you’re getting is his hands on your ass, the phantom feelings when he’d been before, and it’s starting to make you go cold again. He could not like what he sees. You might have pushed this—whatever the hell this is—too far, and he’s going to come up and tell you this was a mistake-
Dean licks a rough stripe up your pussy, and you almost fly off the bed. His arm plants over your lower stomach, pinning you to the bed as he swirls his tongue around your clit, and pinches your ass gently. You flop back down with a deep breath, shooting a hand under the covers to tug at his hair—unsure if you’re trying to move him away or urge him on—and Dean moans against your pussy as he starts to eat you out like a man starved. Sucking your clit and rapidly flicking his tongue until you’re panting, before starting to lick your pussy as a feverish speed.
You never know where he’s going to be next, and it’s driving you out of your mind. It doesn’t take long for you to feel that coil in your gut tightening, set to snap any second, and Dean seems to know that. His hand on your ass rolls and squeezes as he tongue fucks and licks you, his arms holding you firm against his mouth. Every yank of his hair only makes him groan, and the sound vibrates in your pussy, making your eyes roll back in your head.
“Dean.” Your voice is high, almost whiny, and Dean hums. “Please, I- I’m going to-“
He presses his tongue flat over your clit, shoves two fingers into your pussy, starting to pump them at a brutal, rapid pace, and your mouth falls open as the heat flood through you. You see white, your thighs clenching around Dean’s head and toes curling as he eats you out through the orgasm.
Dean gently pries your legs away, as you float back down, and presses an almost mockingly sweet kiss over your clit—making you shudder in his hands, and earning you a second one—before shuffling up your body.
You stare at him, as he reappears from under the covers. His chin is shining with the wetness from your pussy, and you take a ragged breath as he wipes it with his thumb, and hold your gaze as he sucks it clean.
“I-“ You take another breath, almost grabbing at the air to try and get him up, with you. “Dean, Dean-“
He crashes up, angling his lips over yours for a sloppy, open-mouth kiss, and you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair. You can taste yourself, on his tongue, and just like that you need more.
You need to taste him.
Dean pulls away first, resting his brow against yours with a wide grin.
“Hi.” He mutters, and there’s something soft in his voice you didn’t expect. “Anyone ever told you how good you taste, sweetheart?”
You flush, fingers curling on the nape of his neck. “No.”
He hums, giving you another soft kiss on the nose. “Well, you do. Taste like fuckin’ heaven, make so many pretty sounds.” He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and grins when you squeak. “So sensitive, baby. Even better than I imagined.”
You blink at him, your sex-addled brain not really able to understand what he meant by that, so you just say the only thing you can think of.
“You’re really good at that.”
He gives you a look that’s awfully close to pride, and kisses up your neck, stopping to whisper in your ear.
“Easy when I got such a pretty fuckin’ pussy to worship.”
You take a sharp breath, and Dean trades it with his own, almost pushing his tongue fully down your throat. He keeps kissing you like he’s trying to mark you, or maybe just fuse you together.
You really wouldn’t mind that.
But you have something else to do first.
“Dean,” you whisper, and he pulls back with a tight expression.
“What’s-“
“I wanna put it in my mouth.”
You say it fast, before you can lose confidence. Dean stares at you for a long beat after, his eyes dark and jaw clenched, and you suck on your lower lip, trying not to focus on how his cock is pressed against you. It feels thick. Big. You need it.
“Please.” You add, and Dean’s eyes flash, his voice hoarse.
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to-“
“I want to.” You manage to push up on your elbows, and Dean swallows. “Please, Dean, I- I want it so bad-“
He slams you back down into the bed with a kiss, and you grab his face between your hands. You want to feel him. Have this passion branded into you, until you can feel it forever.
“Fuck,” he grunts, pressing a softer kiss to the side of your mouth. “You wanna suck my cock, baby?”
You nod, and Dean hums, leaning back to give you an almost strict look, after.
“I’m not comin’ in your mouth. If I finish, it’s in you.” He pauses, then adds. “Long as that’s- I don’t wanna make it something you gotta give me, just like- Head would be awesome-“
You rise up to meet him this time, hooking your arm fully around his neck and cutting him off with another kiss.
“I’m on the pill.” You say, nipping at his lower lip. “And I- I’d like you to- Do that.”
Dean looks like he just won the lottery. You even get one last kiss, before he’s flipping you over and helping you settle between his legs. He is big. Mostly thick, but still big. And pretty.
You want to choke on him.
Dean smirks at you as he lazily strokes himself. “Like what you’re looking at, sweetheart?”
Somehow, that gives you whatever little jump you needed to move. You roll your eyes, swat his hand away, and take him into your mouth in one, quick movement. Dean grabs your hair with a grunt, as his cock bumps against the back of your throat, and you take what you can’t fit in your free hand. It’s easy to set a pace, rubbing his cock as your tongue swirls and you suck him off like he’s candy. He’s heavy and perfect on your tongue, and even moan of your name only makes you speed up. You hum around him, grinding your hips into the sheets, and Dean makes the most animalistic sound you’ve ever heard.
His hips jerk, making you gag, and he tries to pull back.
You squeeze his leg, and go faster. Faster. He’s twitching in your mouth and saying your name like a prayer, and-
Dean yanks you off with a grunt, and you giggle as he drags you up his chest, glaring at you with a lustful, dark expression.
“You think this is funny, baby?” He mutters, and you smile at him, nodding.
His lips twitch, and he reaches up to grab one of your breasts, smirking when your breath catches in your throat.
“You want to fuck you?”
“Yes.” You whisper, and Dean hums.
“Gonna be a good girl for me?”
You nod, and Dean’s hand trails between your thighs, slowly circling your clit until you’re grinding on his abs, nails digging into his chest.
“Felt how tight you were.” He says under his breath. “But you’re fucking soaked, sweetheart. Think you can take it?”
A whine leaves you, and Dean chuckles, the sound rolling through your cunt.
“Yeah. You can take it.”
He picks you up, and your mouth falls open as you’re driven slowly down onto his cock. The stretch burns, but it’s so good. Dean lets out a deep moan as he bottoms out, and he doesn’t waste any time. He guides you up and down, helping you bounce on his dick, and you try to roll to meet him but you’re alight, high on the feeling of him dragging every needy spot inside of you, gasping whenever he slams you down and you feel fuller than even in your life. Dean slams up to meet you, every time, and you arch in his hands, starting to set your own, desperate pace of grinding on his dick.
Dean groans, and he looks at you under hooded eyes, hands starting to roam and grope anywhere they can find. You roll your hips and he grabs your throat, hissing when you clench around him. Dean starts to jackhammer up into you, and you whimper as he hits impossibly deep, squeezing hard. He sits up, taking your breast back into his mouth, and you yank on his hair, trying to warn him that you’re close. You can’t remeber how to do anything but whimper his name, though, and he somehow understands.
Dean sucks on your neck as he starts to tap on your clit, and you go slack in his arms, trying to fight it off.
“Come on,” He growls, pressing down hard as he slams up. “Give it to me baby, fucking cum on my cock-“
You gasp, as your orgasm crashes into you. Stars dance behind your eyes as white-hot pleasure washes through your body, and Dean gives you one last, bruising kiss as he groans your name with his own release. It paints inside of you and sends you over the edge one last, shivering time, and you whine as he stills inside of you.
And this doesn’t feel real.
It’s the type of heat that feels like steam. Like a drug. As if, when Dean kisses your brow and pulls out, it could only be a dream.
You’re too fucked out to think about it. You can only let Dean move you around—clean up, bathroom, back to bed—in a trace like state, before you’re tucked back into his chest. In his bed.
Warm.
You drift easily off into sleep with your body spent, and you’re so easily, happily, perfectly warm.
———
The world is slow, when you open your eyes. There’s a deep comfort you haven’t felt in a while, a comfortable warmth settled in your body—not wired, not goin to burn you, but just peaceful—and you take a deep breath, settling into the covers.
Dean groans, and his lips brush over your ears. He shifts behind you, tugging a little tighter against his chest.
You still.
His chest. His arm, wrapped over your stomach. Because you slept with him.
You fucking slept with him.
And he’s still here, in the morning. Still holding onto you. When you roll over, his features are relaxed, and his mouth is hanging open as he snores. His chest rumbles with each breath, and his fingers trail over your waist in his sleep, and you slept with him.
You can’t stay here. In his arms. You don’t want to sit in it too long, let yourself get too high on the smell and feel of him around you, then have him wake up. Stare at you, then jump away. Tell you this was just a casual thing, you’d just been stuck together too long, and this doesn’t change that you’re just friends. You’ll have to pinch yourself, to stop from crying. And then the car ride back will suck, and Sam will come home and notice things are weird, and you’ll have to stop yourself from crying again.
It’s easier, if you just pretend nothing happened. Nothing will actually change. Your heart will remain in its fragile shape—made like glass, so fucking easy for Dean to shatter—and Dean won’t have to go to the trouble of rejecting you.
So you, very slowly shift your way out of his arms. It takes longer than you thought it would. Dean keeps pulling you back, and grumbling in his sleep, and at one point his morning wood ends up pressed right against your bare ass, and you have to take about fifty deep breaths.
But you manage. With a lot of help from the sheets, stuffed into his arms as you move away, you get out of the bed.
Take a shower. Wrap yourself in blankets and layers, because the heater is still broken. Make coffee.
Drift through the early morning, trying to think about anything but the thing. If you think about it, you’ll start crying all by yourself.
And when you look out the door, it’s a small blessing.
You won’t have to think about this at all. The storm has stopped. Someone cleared the roads, last night.
You and Dean can leave.
Dean groans your name, a few hours later, when he wakes up. Shoots upright with his gun, when he realizes you’re not in bed with him.
“Over here.” You say, rubbing your hands against the quickly cooling coffee, and Dean grunts.
His eyes still aren’t in total focus. He’s rubbing his face, his hair spiky and the sheets pooling around his lap. You have to stare at your coffee mug, because now all you can think about is how those abs had felt flexing under your fingers, how his chest had looked above you, heaving as you sucked his cock-
“What’re doin’ over there?” He mutters your name, and the heat isn’t need anymore. It’s prickling. Sore. You just want to leave this behind. To give him the out he’s probably looking for, and not think about how it’s not you. Dean doesn’t regret sex with you.
He just doesn’t want to do any sex that leads to expectations in the morning.
“It’s safe to drive.” You mutter, glaring at a carving of a flower Dean did on the table. It’s making you think about his hands. On your tits, holding your neck, inside of you. Focus. “Heater’s broken. We should probably go.”
Dean stares at you. You can feel it. And when you look up, there’s an expression you’ve never seen before. You don’t even know how to read it. His face is tight, but his brows are relaxed, and his mouth is open. It’s not even there long enough for you to analyze it. Dean just shakes his head, runs his hand through his hair, and stands up.
You flush, biting your lip and looking back to the table. His cock is hanging between his legs, and you can still taste him, still feel him when you shift in the chair, and it’s going to maybe haunt you for the rest of your life.
“Right.” Dean mutters—not seeming to notice how you’re squirming in the chair—and you can see him pulling on his boxers in your periphery. “We should. I’ll start packing-“
“I already did everything.” You tilt your head to the couch, where you’d hauled the bags. “You just- Have the keys. And I need your help carrying them.”
He snorts, voice dry. “What, you gonna take off with the money?”
You frown at him. “We don’t have any money.”
“It’s- Never mind.” Dean shuffles to the bathroom. “Gonna take a leak. Get dressed. Then we’ll leave.”
You don’t know why he’s saying it like that. He wanted to leave. He wanted to beat the storm in the first place. And this has been perfect, this feeling of peace with him you haven’t known in years, but if you were still stuck here that would have to change. He wouldn’t have this clean, neat out.
But it feels like he’s pissed at you. You’re not trying to talk to him, but he’s not trying to talk to you. Dean almost stomps out of the bathroom, grabs the bags, and hauls them outside without a glance in your direction. While you go to the front to turn in your key, he walks a pace behind you. When you grab a blanket from the trunk and slide into shotgun, he doesn’t tease you about being cold.
Dean glances at you, his jaw ticks, and he starts the engine. It warms up quickly, but you can’t really feel it. Your fingers are still numb. Your heart feels like it’s going too fast and too slow, all at once.
There’s only that hot, uncomfortable prickling sensation, and pure fucking cold.
Dean’s not moving at all. Not driving away, and leaving this all in the dust. He’s just drumming on the wheel, glaring out the windshield, and pressing his lips tight together.
He’s going to tell you no anyway. You did so much to avoid it, to get out before the change could sink and stick, but he’s just going to do it here-
“I just-“ He takes a long breath, and you swallow. “Before we go, you gotta tell me, sweetheart. Are we locking it?”
“Are we-“ You blink at him. “What.”
“Locking it.” He grunts, giving you firm, almost heavy look. “This. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”
Oh.
You don’t want to lock it. You don’t want to trap it and push it down, because it’s just going to bubble up and you’re going to explode.
But you don’t want things to change.
“If that’s what you want.” You mumble, and Dean huffs a low, dry laugh.
“Yeah. Alright.”
It doesn’t sound alright. He sounds pissed, and tired, and he’s still not looking at you, but he usually looks at you all the time. Maybe he’s never going to look at you again, maybe your friendship is going to melt away with the storm if you don’t-
“Is that what you want?”
You speak before you can think. But it gets Dean to look at you.
Stare at you.
With that same strange expression from before. Seeing it closer, for longer—his breathing heavier than it should be, his grip on the wheel white-knuckled—it looks almost broken.
Almost as cold as you feel.
And you shouldn’t speak again. You should just let it go. Speaking it will change everything, without any way to stop it. The water will run, and you’ll either be smoothed out and locked into the riverbed, or you’ll be swept away with the current.
But everything has already changed. Dean’s never not looked at you for so long. You’ve never felt this hot discomfort around him.
So you take the leap.
“I- I don’t want it.” You whisper, and his jaw ticks. “I want it to be more. I want to go back to bed, and I want to wake up next to you, and I want you to pee with the door open and make up stupid games together and order me cherries- Everything else we’ve always done but you kiss me after. Like- I cut out paper stars and give them to you and you kiss me, and you take a shower, and I kiss you, and you keep making me breakfast but now it’s just me-“
“It’s always just you.” Dean grunts, and you blink.
“What?”
“Breakfast.” He mutters, still staring at you. “I don’t really make Sam breakfast.”
Oh. “Oh.”
Your voice is barely a breath, and Dean chuckles.
“Yeah, and, uh-“ He clears his throat, his ears going red again. “You’re the sex. The one I’ve kinda- Since I freakin’ met you, I- Yeah. So, guess I got two bucket lists this week.”
He gives you a small, crooked grin, and it’s like a spark in your chest. Warm. Bright.
Maybe guiding you to something really, really good.
“You know the bar we went to?” You say carefully, just because you have to be sure. “The girls who tried to flirt with you?”
“Not really.” Dean shrugs, and that just makes the spark start to catch fire. “What about them?”
“In the bathroom, I heard them talking, and-“ You give him a tight, nervous smile. “They thought you were my boyfriend. Because of how you look at me. Like you- As if you love me.”
You expect him to dismiss it. To say he has feelings you, but avoid the L word. To awkwardly tell you he just wants to keep having sex, and the cowgirls were just drunk.
But he doesn’t.
Dean just grins at you.
The exact way he always has.
“Y’know, Sammy says I do that.” He twists to fully face you, his fingers still drumming on the wheel. “Said it was obvious. So obvious I needed to man up and tell you out loud. But you never acted like you could see it, so I guessed he was just being a bitch. But I guess that’s kinda the only face I make, when I’m looking at you. Guess I can’t blame you for that one.”
He gives you a smaller grin, raising his brow, and you breathing heavy through your nose.
Obvious.
It’s been obvious.
And he’s- He’s not say-
“Dean.” You whisper, leaning forward until your hand is braced on his knee. “Do you-“
“Yeah.” His voice is low, but not like it’s secret. Like he’s telling you something so critically important, it has to be said slow and deep, just to make sure you understand. “You?”
“Yeah.”
Dean’s jaw twitches, and his eyes flick down to your lips. “Can I kiss you, then? Whenever I want?”
You nod, and Dean crashes forward. It’s slow, this time. With music in your chest and a high feeling in your head, as Dean pulls you closer and hold your face like it’s something priceless. There’s no rush, to try and imprint yourself upon each other. You’re already molded into him, and he’s already branded all over you.
And things have changed.
But you’re never going to go back.
End Note: Thank god for that snowstorm. I choose to believe Sam summoned it to trap them together.
If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3
Soooo idk how many people are going to be interested but I'm writing a GhostfaceAu!Dean x F!Reader for October/Halloween. It's gonna be a oneshot (a very very long oneshots ngl). Honestly I have no idea if anyone is interested in this but I'm obsessed with slasher movies and I've been thinking about this for a while now. You know me and how I write, and oh boy am I gonna make it messy. Maybe even unhinged? Who knows if this is going to be well received 😅 either way, if you want to be tagged in this just let me know!
Hey everyone! Sorry I've been inconsistent with uploads, things will hopefully start getting easier and I'll be more productive soon. But hey guess what? I had another baby 🖤
Summary: Sam and Dean have been following their father’s trail even after he’s gone, following leads from his journal and tying some loose ends. When they read of an unusual store he used to visit in the town they happen to be passing through, they can’t help but take a look - meeting (Y/), an omega on the edge, and when Dean saves her from a shitty situation, life could talk a turn in a whole different direction.
A/B/O dynamics, eventual smut
Warnings: language, sexual tension
Chapter Word Count: 3646
—-MDNI—-
A/N: FIRST OF ALL IM SO SORRY AGAIN. I've been gone for fucking ages and I'm really sorry - I literally have so much shit going on that I can share with you soon (hopefully) so hobbies have kind been put on the back burner. But I'm hoping to finish this fic in the next coupleof weeks! I hope you don't hate me too much for being crappy at consistency. Anyway I hope you like it! It’s only been proof read by moi so please let me know of any errors!
Photos from Pinterest
Previous Chapter: Chapter 1
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We made it back to my apartment relatively unscathed. Dean had called Sam - they were both at a gas station just down the road when Dean had taken off without a word, apparently - and they had bundled me safely into the back seat of their car before driving away from the scene.
“This is me,” I’d said, a little breathlessly from outside of my apartment. Both of them had insisted that they accompany me up to the fifth floor, just in case anything else were to happen.
“You sure you don’t want us to stick around?” Sam asked, his voice riddled with concern, “if there’s any alphas in the building, your scent is like a trail of breadcrumbs to them; it’ll lead them straight to you.”
I pulled my lip between my teeth, trying to ignore the aches that were coming from my lower region as I pondered on Sam’s words. He was right, and I knew for a fact that there were definitely alphas in the building. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to take them up on their offer. Although, with that being said, with having the pair of them right outside my door when the worst of my heat was to hit inevitably in a few days - there was no way that even I had that much self restraint.
“I don’t know,” my throat felt dry when I spoke, the sweat beginning to pebble on my brow. “I have decent locks on my doors, I feel as though you’d just be wasting your time sitting around,” I fabricate a truth out of thin air, also believing the statement to be true.
“Keeping the other alphas away from you is our priority,” it was Dean who spoke this time, his voice rasping with every word. I glanced at him, noticing how his hair stuck to his temples and the sleeves of his flannel were now pushed past his elbows, a prominent bruise beginning to spread across his knuckles.
“Deans right,” Sam agreed, taking a quick look at his brother before turning back to me. His next words were spoken in a lower, more confidential tone, assumingly for my ears only as he stepped towards me, “from the state of Dean, I’m assuming it won’t be long until he’s in the same situation as you, so we’ll be getting a motel and staying in town for a while anyway.”
I couldn’t stop my sharp intake of breath, frustrated with myself for not seeing it sooner, and for the fact that it was probably my fault this was happening to him. Dean was teetering dangerously close to the edge of his rut, and every small glance he cast my way was hungry. My pulse quickened - we all needed our space before something dangerous happened.
“Why don’t I give you my number so that you can message me if you feel concerned?” I looked up at the younger alpha with pleading eyes. Staying in contact with the Winchesters couldn’t hurt whilst this was going on, could it? Sam simply nodded, pulling out his phone and imputed my contact details, sending me a quick text to make sure there were no errors. My phone chimed from my pocket, and Sam seemed instantly more relieved.
“Now that we’ve made a compromise, I should really let you boys go. I should really get inside too,” I winced as I smiled, placing my cool hands over the searing skin of my abdomen. Sam simply nodded as I let myself into my apartment, closing the door behind me and sliding across every chain, deadbolt and lock that I’d had fitted. I immediately threw my backpack down and tore off my boots, leaving everything where it fell in the hallway. The tantalising scent from Dean slowly dissipated, yet some clung to the clothes I was wearing from being in such close proximity with him. It was torture, and there was part of me - an unhinged, mostly feral part - that wanted to grab onto him and pull him inside so we could ride this out together. But just because everything about him was positively divine, when it came down to it, I barely knew him. I mean for fucks sake, I met the man this morning; I’ve known him for less than twenty four hours. Yet he’s already saved my life and sent my mind - and body - into a complete frenzy.
I paced into my room and tore off my clothes that I’d been wearing that day, throwing them in the laundry basket before quickly dressing in the oversized T-shirt that I’d worn to bed the night before. Looking around my bedroom, I wasn’t sure what to do next. I hadn’t let myself have a heat since my first ever one as a teenager, so I wasn’t exactly prepared for nesting; I had my duvet, and one extra fluffy blanket that normally resided on my couch, a couple of throw pillows from the living room, and then the normal pillows from my bed. That was it. My cupboards and fridge weren’t exactly stocked up either. I would order for delivery, but I couldn’t risk the delivery driver being an alpha. I could also message May to pick me some easy groceries, but I knew she was busy this evening, and then she had the shop to manage alone tomorrow, as there was no way that I’d be able to make it in like this. Speaking of May, I quickly pulled out my phone to send her a quick message, letting her know that I was home safe. That’s when I saw the smiley face initialled ‘S.W’ in my inbox. Sam. Was it too soon to burden him with a quick food run? He must already have his hands full with Dean if the dilated pupils and mouth-watering scent were anything to go off. Fucking hell. I sighed, flopping down onto my bed. I’m seriously hoping it’s just the heat talking, but trying to get that Dean Winchester out of my mind was going to be hard fucking work.
I stared at the ceiling for a moment, unable to ignore how my skin grew hotter as every second ticked by. Sighing, I typed out a message to Sam, asking, if it wasn’t too much trouble, the next time he bought food for himself and his brother, if he could buy me a few ready-meals. I obviously had every intention to pay him back, yet I couldn’t bring myself to press send just yet. Instead I locked my phone screen and slid off the bed, padding into the living room to retrieve the fluffy blanket and throw pillows, hauling the lot into the bedroom and arranging them precisely on the bed. So this is nesting. I’d never had the urge to create a safe space to hunker down before, not even when I had my first and only other heat. It was a strange feeling, like some different entity entirely had taken the wheel of my subconscious and was telling me that this was what I needed. This was what I wanted. As I crawled in and buried myself amongst the softness of it all, I took a deep breath in. Something was missing. Something masculine. Or maybe it was someone.
The ache in my lower belly burned, making my skin feverish as the noticeable wetness began to soak into my underwear, coating the tops of my inner thighs. I clamped my legs together, the motion doing little to ease any temptation to slide my fingers over myself. Instead, I reached for my phone as a distraction, unlocking it to reveal the text I’d written out to Sam but never sent. My thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button, but at this point it seemed less about getting food delivered. If Sam comes by, maybe he can bring something of Deans. I winced at my own minds growing desperation. Just a shirt or something, nothing too much. But it would be too much, knowing deep down in my heated gut that the torturous scent of the eldest Winchester alpha would send my body into an irreversible overdrive. Who knows how long I’d be hauled up in my apartment if I allowed him to fill my senses. I’m almost certain that it’s his fault in the first place that my heat took over so quickly; I could've had a few more days to get some blockers and suppressants if I hadn’t encountered him. Yet here I was, sweating in a nest of my own creation with yesterday's medication barely out of my system.
I looked back to my phone, swallowing thickly before quickly pressing send; the message devoid of any Dean-scented clothing requests. Food was most important - I needed to eat before I was too far gone and stuck on this bed for several days. I practically jumped when my phone dinged, Sam’s response almost instantaneous. After reading his message I locked my phone again, burrowing further into the blankets to try - and fail - to get some rest.
Considering the circumstances I’d managed to drift into a restless sleep that could have spanned minutes or hours; I wasn't entirely sure, the only indicator was my level of grogginess when I awoke to loud rap at the door. Despite the lingering fog in my mind, I almost leapt out of my sweat drenched skin, taking a brief moment to compose myself as best as possible before crawling out of my nest; my all-too-vivid dreams replaying their highlights in my mind like a movie. Highlights of rough hands grasping at the plush flesh of my thighs, and of those same hands gripping the hair close to my scalp to pull me in - pull me close. Dreams of slightly chapped lips placing searing kisses from my neck to my navel before venturing lower. My heart pounded in my chest as I slid off the bed, legs trembling slightly as they carried me to the front door. I didn't bother to check myself in the mirror, as no matter what I did, there was no quick fix for the current state of my dishevelled appearance.
As I reached the door and flung it open, it revealed a rather well composed Sam Winchester standing on the other side with several carrier bags strung over his arms. For the first time since this whole ordeal had started, I saw his eyes widen and his breath catch when my scent hit him like a brick wall, though I wasn’t too surprised as it must’ve been thick enough to cut with a knife at this point. It took all but a second for him to regain his composure, nothing but a small blush lingering on his cheeks as he handed me the bags.
“Here,” he said as I took a couple and he placed the rest at my feet inside the doorway, “I got as much variety as I could - I’m not sure what you enjoy so I guessed mostly,” his voice was kind and a little sympathetic. He explained what he’d bought for me, and said that if there was anything I really didn’t like then he’d take it away so it wouldn’t go to waste. His voice was as it usually was - even and calm - though there was an odd lingering undertone that I couldn’t help but pick up on.
“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” I smiled weakly at him, unable to ignore the twisting in my stomach, my next words coming out a little breathless, “send me your details and I’ll send you the money - or if you’re happy to wait a few days I can get you cash-”
“Really (Y/n), it’s fine, you don’t owe us anything,” he waved his hand in dismissal before lifting it to drag his palm over the lower half of his face, a difficult question seeming to bubble on his tongue as his eyes flicked away from mine for a split second.
“What can I do for you instead?” I asked, feeling like a different sort of favour might be needed. He bit his lip.
“Can I take the shirt you were wearing today? For Dean, obviously. It’s just- I’ve not seen him like this before and he’s really struggling after only a few hours and I thought maybe- that maybe because- y-you-”
“Because it was me that set him off, it might help?” I raised a questioning eyebrow, yet my pulse quickened and my mouth watered at the thought of Dean needing something of mine. It all made perfect sense though.
“Yes, exactly,” Sam breathed out an awkward sigh, relieved I understood what he was hinting at. I simply nodded, swallowing thickly before ducking back into my apartment for a moment, quickly reemerging with the flannel I’d thrown on this morning. Instinctively I held it against my neck, rubbing my cheek on the soft fabric a little before finally passing it to Sam. He quickly scrunched it as small as it would go and shoved it into his jacket pocket.
“Thank you,” he almost whispered, perhaps a little embarrassed by the request judging by his still lingering blush.
“Not a problem,” deep down, I wanted to ask for the same - for him to bring me something of Deans to take the edge off whatever chaos was coursing through my body, but that wouldn’t be fair on him. I wasn’t about to make Sam drive all the way back to wherever their hotel was and fetch me an item of his older brothers, just because the thought was making my bones hot. That wasn’t fair. Instead, we simply said our goodbyes and I proclaimed my appreciation to his generosity for the umpteenth time before he finally left and I closed the door behind me, relocking it so it was as secure as it was before.
I’d almost finished putting away the groceries - a pleasant assortment of microwave curries, frozen pizzas and instant noodles along with various other snacks and drinks. It didn’t take me long to work my way through them, and before I knew it I had reached the last bag. This bag however was different from the rest. I don’t remember taking this one from Sam, so it must’ve been one that he’d placed down into the hallway himself without me noticing. The other bags were all the typical, cheap, thin white plastic with handles that stretched if you over packed them even by an ounce, however this bag was brown paper with the top rolled down to conceal whatever it was that was inside. I reached for it, almost warily, unsure of its significance compared with the rest, and why it wasn’t like the others. I opened it and my eyes almost fluttered closed, the instant scent of leather and woodsmoke filling my lungs and shooting straight to my brain, tickling a long hidden itch that I’d never be able to scratch on my own. I reached into the bag and pulled out the black t-shirt he’d worn under his flannel earlier in the day and unashamedly buried my face in it. Somehow my brain was able to overlook the lingering smell of sweat and whatever cologne he wore, focusing entirely on the smell that made Dean, Dean.
I scurried back to my nest with the top pressed so hard against my face it was a wonder that I didn’t suffocate, and as I climbed in I felt like I could almost taste him. Was it normal to literally salivate over a man - an alpha - I’d only met once? Was it normal to feel an obsession brewing over someone I hardly knew? Was it normal to literally feel the whole world and everyone else in it begin to slip away the more his scent filled my senses? Was any of this normal? Surely it wasn’t - surely I was slipping into some sort of madness, fueled by my years of over-suppressed heats. That had to be what this was, because this wasn’t me. I was never the type of girl to obsess and fantasise, even when I first presented as an omega. I never had an alpha I fawned over, even when they tried to pursue me and were mostly pleasant company. I dated occasionally, sure, but I simply never felt the need or desire to let them occupy my mind. Especially not like this; to the point where I felt my self control was slipping away.
The hours seemed to drag by even with Deans shirt as my aid, and before I knew it a couple of days had passed. May had messaged me a few times to check in and see how I was feeling and it had taken a lot of willpower to relinquish my grip on the alphas clothing in favour of my phone and message her back, letting her know that I was ok. I wanted to feel bad about not making it into work, I really did, yet my mind was on such a narrow, single track that feeling anything that wasn’t part of this treacherous heat was difficult. Sam had come by this morning wielding my shirt and asked for a ‘fresher’ one, apparently on Deans demand. As I had stood wearily in the doorway, about to question what he meant when I took the item of clothing and answered my own question - the shirt smelt nothing like me anymore. It made my heart hammer in my chest and my thighs clench at the thought of Dean smothering my flannel to the point where it had become so strongly scented of him that not a trace of it belonging to me was left behind. I had left Sam in the doorway as I headed to the bedroom, stripping off the shirt I’d been wearing constantly for the last couple of days before grabbing Deans black t-shirt and padding back to him (now wearing a clean tank top), handing them over in this bizarre little exchange. He’d placed them in a plastic bag before tying them in, stopping my seemingly enticing scent from escaping before shoving them into the backpack slung over his shoulder, departing casually as if this were nothing but a coffee visit. Not only did he return my flannel, but he’d left me with another one of Deans shirts, I’m assuming as a fair trade. It was perhaps a little odd, and far from what I’d considered normal before my heat, but now that I was in the thick of it I simply couldn’t get enough. I was incredibly grateful to the younger alpha for ferrying scented clothing back and forth. Especially grateful, considering that he didn’t know me, and all that he did know of me was the small conversations we’d had a few days ago in the shop and then what his dad had written in his journal. Perhaps that was why - because he knew in a strange way that I was already tied to them somehow through their recently departed father. I wasn’t going to let myself think about it too hard - perhaps I’ll ask Sam directly one day why he’s doing this for us, but the time isn’t right for that just yet.
With trembling knees and slick thighs, the Dean-scented fabric pushed firm to my face, I climbed back into my nest, burying myself between the blankets.
I’d already tried several times to ease the heat by my own means, but all that came of that was a tighter coil in my stomach and even more pent up desire that didn’t seem to be passing; it was almost becoming painful. I wanted so desperately to attempt again, trying to convince myself that maybe this time would be different - yet I knew deep down that it wouldn’t be and I’d only cause myself more pain and discomfort. And even deeper down than that, I knew there was only one thing that could ease any of this, and he was suffering just as much as I was in the motel down the road.
Or at least so I thought.
A sound akin to thunder boomed through my apartment as I tossed and turned - the sheets and blankets sticking to my sweat-slicked skin as I startled with fright. Deans shirt had replaced the tank top I had been wearing, and it hung open like a jacket, exposing my bare chest and stomach to the room. My heart hammered in my chest as I slid out of my nest and wrapped the shirt tighter around me, a poor attempt to keep myself decent as I silently paced towards the front door. I quickly glanced out of the window before I stepped into the hallway, seeing nothing but pitch blackness and the softest orange glow from the street lamps below. How late was it? Another boom boom boom echoed down the hall and through my small home, the sound making me flinch as I struggled to keep my composure. As I stood before the door, I rose onto my tip-toes and peeked through the spy-hole, my breath lodging in my throat as though it were something much thicker than air. I didn’t hesitate to step back and throw the door open, suddenly forgetting about the tight grip on my decency.
There in the doorway stood Dean; strong arms braced against the outer doorframe as though he’d collapse at any given moment. He wore a thin white tshirt, the amount of sweat on his body making it almost transparent as it clung to his torso the same way my hair clung to my temples. His breath was ragged, from exertion or self restraint I was unsure, but one thing that I was absolutely certain of and could tell from the way his hazy gaze dragged like scolding embers over my body and his dizzying scent flooded my body: he was dangerously ravenous.
OR after years of unsaid emotions, supressed feelings and goddamn urges— you and dean finally confront the thing you'd both been avoiding: how there's so much you wanna do in the darkness. and you're gonna make all come true. tonight.
my masterlist
「 pairing 」 : dean winchester x fem ! reader
「 word count 」 : 5.6k.
「 content / warnings 」 : MINORS LOOK AWAY !!!, lateish seasons (if you squint) dean winchester x reader's first time (not virgins though), unprotected (mostly) soft sex with feelings, feelings, feelings!, aka porn WITH plot!, p in v, handjob, dean being a munch ofc (this is canon. go argue with the wall.), swearing (obvi). please let me know if i missed anything!
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from the moment you first met dean winchester while working a case, you knew you wanted to fuck him.
which was a little strange, because you didn't think like that outright about too many men— not ones you knew in real life, anyway.
but here the stupid bastard was, with his annoyingly pretty face and those stupid, big, rough fightin' hands that could touch you everywhere, pull the prettiest sounds right from you—
oh, we're getting way too far ahead of ourselves. you shoved those thoughts away. come on, this was a freakin' case. lives were at stake.
and once the initial secret lust you had finally went away, you realized you were experiencing something much greater than some stupid crush on dean.
because the more hunted with him, you got to see not just the tough, hard-as-nails side of him— but you saw the other side.
his people side.
you got to see the way he interacted with every single person he encountered on a case, not resting until the threat was completely gone and ganked. and sometimes, when a case hit too close to home, he treated victims and affected family no less than his own fuckin' family.
and you knew from your own personal experience that he'd do just about damn near anything for the family he did have. saw the way he got all soft and sweet around kids— and after a good while, even around you.
and that's when you knew you were in trouble.
you'd known dean for years now. and nothing had ever come of you two except him being one of the greatest friends you'd ever had.
but god help you if you didn't want more.
and nothing like a quick fuck, either. no, you wanted to be there for everything— even on those deathly-quiet nights when dean's thoughts got too loud and the debilitating weight he was carrying all alone just got too heavy, you wanted to be the one keeping him afloat.
it was something dangerously close to love.
you tried to ignore it at first. push it down. and it did work-- for a while. until fucking dean started acting weird around you, too.
and now things were... complicated.
you didn't know exactly when things had shifted so much to the point that it almost became unbearable to even be in the same room as dean without either of you knowingly holding back just spilling your guts-- but god, it was worse than dying.
inevitably, one night, it all just snapped.
there was no dramatic fight, or screamed confessions from either of you. no, it happened late in the darkness, when you both were sharing a motel room.
which would have made you fond of all the times you guys had shared motel rooms in the past— you would've smiled at the thought of younger you trying to make the most out of the fact that you had to share a room with a fucking boy.
but dean was now much more of a man than ever before now.
thank god there's two separate beds, you initially thought.
now, though? there wasn't a need for two beds anymore.
because you still somehow ended up in dean's that was closest to the window.
in his lap.
and kissing him.
you were sure you were in just another one of your dreams or fantasies you conjured up to get off-- but you could feel dean's hands on you through your shirt, grasping at the fabric. so this had to be real-- but just for precaution, you roll your hips into dean's a little.
yeah. that sound he made when he grinds his hips up into your own was definitely real— and right in your mouth.
you knew you were probably moving too fast— but fuck if you cared. your hands sneak in between you both and trail downward on the front of dean's shirt, not stopping until you reach the hem— and your voice is a whisper against dean's kiss-swollen lips.
"arms up, de."
and dean obliges in a heartbeat, raising his arms up over his head immediately— and he's silently praising the fact he decided to just wear a t-shirt to bed.
you actually somehow had only seen dean shirtless once or twice over the years— the latest being last summer when the air conditioning in the bunker was broken, and you conveniently and hurriedly stated that you had to stay in your room the entire day—because it was so much more skin than you were used to seeing.
but now?
you're staring.
dean's looking at you looking at him— and if the motel room wasn't so dark, you could've sworn his face got a little pinker under your gaze.
but you don't dwell on that for too long. because your hands are itching to reach out and just touch— and the moment your fingers start to graze on dean's biceps first, his eyes flutter shut and he lets out a shaky exhale, fighting to keep himself under control.
because it's you that's touching him.
you're still touching him when you lean back and kiss his lips again— and dean is very aware of the fact that you still have your shirt on.
but you have to break the kiss after a while to get stupid air— and your hands are reluctantly taken off of dean's skin, much to his protest. but the words he was about to say die in his throat when he sees where your hands were going.
you grasp the hem of the oversized shirt you were wearing, tearing it over your head and discarding it in the same motion— all while you were silently thanking whatever had possessed you not to wear shorts to bed.
or a bra.
and now, dean thinks he might die.
it was his turn to stare, eyes raking and flicking over every inch of you as you're straddling his lap like he didn't know where to look first— and dean's just so in awe, he says what he was thinking out loud in a barely-audible.
"god, you're beautiful."
you can feel a blush burning your cheeks at dean's words-- and judging by the way his eyes widened ever so slightly when he uttered those words, you knew he meant it. you smile softly down at him, your voice just as quiet as his once was.
"you're not so bad, yourself.''
and that makes the corner of dean's lips turn up in a small, soft smirk. god, he loves you. and he's gonna show you that.
all night long.
dean starts with his hands, the rough callouses trailing up your thighs, hips, waist, stomach, tits, arms, back— fucking everywhere on your bare skin as he stares up at you.
but your hands move on dean, too— touching him everywhere you could reach before you go lower, your fingers grazing on the waistband of his boxers— but you look back up at him again, a silent question in your eyes.
dean looks confused for half a second— until he realizes you're asking for permission. then he nods, his heart feeling warmer than it was before.
you tear his boxers off in one fell swoop— and holy goddamn.
you stare— again. and dean's fighting the urge to roll you over onto the mattress and just taking you.
instead, he forces himself to stay still under you— because the urge to do that and see what you do next is stronger.
dean's smirking up at you. the damn idiot. and then he quietly murmurs out—
"your turn."
you'd almost forgotten you still had your underwear on— oh, but dean didn't forget. the speed at which you yank down the fabric and discard it somewhere in the motel room should be a world record.
you look back down at dean again when you get situated back on his lap— but he's not looking at you anymore.
no, the man gulps at the sight of your pussy being exposed to him— and it takes him a while to look back up at you, his voice low and rough.
"c'mere."
you obliged, one of your hands reaching down and grasping dean's own that had been resting on your thigh.
this was new. oh, so new. dean wasn't new to you by any means, and that familiarity, that bond was still there— but he was new in this sense. this was different.
this was real.
dean was a man who rarely ever got what he really wanted— so you wanted dean to get whatever he wanted out of what was about to happen between the two of you.
"tell me what you want, dean," your voice is a mere whisper. "tell me what you want me to do, and i'll do it."
dean really thinks you should be illegal. you're all he's ever wanted—and you're asking him what he wanted.
he doesn't answer right away— dean's eyes rake over your naked form in his lap, and he's got his hands resting on your thighs as he meets your gaze once more.
"touch me."
you knew what dean meant by that. dean knew what he meant by that. and you both were fully aware of the line you were about to cross. but you weren't even nervous. and neither was he.
so take your hands, reaching down and trailing a path on dean's lower torso before you take him all in your hands.
and dean thinks he might die.
again.
because you start stroking him slowly— you weren't an idiot, you knew if you went too fast at first, it would hurt dean like a motherfucker rather than feel good.
and you're just looking at him, reading his reactions, making sure that it feels good.
all dean can get out at first is your name. he had opened his mouth to say something, but that's all that came out in a broken groan. he's letting out these little broken noises of pleasure— and his head has to fall back on the shitty motel room’s headboard so he doesn't cum right there.
you keep your pace of your hand on dean's dick steady, only increasing the intensity after a few moments when you can tell he needed more— by the way he gripped onto your hip, his rough fingers curling into the meat of your skin— and by the way he was fighting back the moans that had been treating to escape his throat.
it was definitely embarrassing how close dean was to cumming already, he knew that. but he also knew it was because it was you who was bringing him there. not some quick fuck with a chick he'd met that night, or his own hand— no.
it was yours.
and that thought combined with the way you're still looking at him— in awe, like he's something out of a museum, gets him way closer to the edge you were guiding him to.
"i'm— fucking christ, jesus—"
your name along with the man upstairs' son had come out of dean's mouth in a desperate attempt to warn you that he was right there, all because of you.
"i gotcha, dean," you whisper, and your free hand not jerking him off reaches to cup the side of his face as his head's tilted up towards you.
"just let it happen."
and that does it for him.
dean cums hard, his hands clutching on your thigh and part of your hips with all he's got, gasping and groaning, letting little out broken moans the whole way down.
you just guide dean through it with your hand, watching him under you as his skin was all flushed and red now, hair sticking up everywhere (courtesy of your hands), his pupils blown out and half-lidded before shutting fully.
"y'okay?" you whisper, your eyes flicking over dean under you. his own eyes continued to be closed— and you take that time to grab a tissue from the nightstand, wiping your hand clean before looking back and giving dean your full attention.
your other hand was still on his face, your thumb grazing on his cheek now, and for a split second, you almost think dean must not have liked it, or you went too far, because he wasn't saying—
"holy shit."
the curse leaves dean's mouth as his eyes open— and all he can do is reach his free hand up that wasn't grasping yours between the two of you already and rest it on the one cupping his face.
you can't even open your softly smiling mouth to respond, because the next words are coming out of dean's mouth, his voice still raw and rough from the way you just broke him apart.
"you know what i wanna do right now?"
you tilt your head a little to the side, still looking down at dean below you with his back resting against the headboard as you so desperately wanted to know.
"what?"
dean's downright devilish smirk reappears— and his eyes flick down to your almost dripping pussy that was spread as you straddled his legs before looking back up at you, his voice still rough as ever.
"I wanna taste you."
and a strangled sound gets stuck in your throat at the mere thought of dean eating you out. maybe it was a little embarassing how breathless your voice sounded when you leaned just a fraction closer to him.
"then go ahead."
an actual growl escapes dean at that— and you don't need to tell the man twice. he's got you flipped over and pinning you down, your scorching back hitting the cold motel sheets before you can even blink. you stare up at him when he hovers over you, both hands on the sides of your head, holding him up— and he's just looking at you.
but dean doesn't stay like that for too long. his lips hit your neck immediately after he leans down enough— and he starts just attacking at your skin, nipping, biting, sucking— he draws a path all the way down, until he reaches your now sopping pussy.
dean changes his position when he does, spreading your slick inner thighs further apart and settling between your legs, wrapping a strong arm around the meat of your thighs.
but he hesitates for a brief moment. he likes eating out pussy, but did you enjoy it? his pussy-drunk eyes flick up to yours— and you're a sight all spread out for him, your back against the pillows and sitting up a little so you could watch.
"i ain't gonna be gentle. y'know that, right?"
you knew that dean had always been considerate of you, long before this night— for as long as you'd known him, for that matter. but hearing him tell you that he didn't want to be gentle made your gaze soften and a smile tug on your lips as you nodded in response.
"yeah, i know."
and in that moment, dean thinks he loves you.
well, in all actuality, dean knows he loves you— but seeing you all soft and just so goddamn pretty in the moonlight that's filtering in through the motel room window, he's well aware of the blessing that's before him.
dean gives you one last smile— softer this time. then he dives in, burying in his face and going at you full force, his tongue flat and working against your puffy, slick folds before letting out a groan that vibrates everything.
and dean was right.
he was not gentle about it.
your eyes threaten to flutter shut as dean's tounge works on you— but you force them to be half-lidded as you look down at the sight of dean eating you out like a starved man.
and he's looking right back at you as he does it.
your hand flies to grasp onto dean's that was still resting on your thigh as his mouth continues to attack you— and he gladly takes it in his, not faltering his pace once.
you couldn't help but bite down hard on your bottom lip, attempting to contain the moans and noises that were threatening to spill out of you— and dean isn’t having it.
“nuh uh, darlin’,” dean shakes his head between your thighs, talking right into your pussy between flicks of his tongue on your clit. “i wanna hear you— wanna hear how goddamn good i’m makin’ ya feel right now.”
and with that, your mouth drops open almost immediately. it's like a switch flipped in you— and the first moan you let out is his fuckin' name.
"dean..."
christ on a cross. dean had wanted to hear just anything come out of your pretty mouth, but his name being the first thing on the tip of your tongue does things to him.
dean's imagined you moaning his name countless times, of course, but nothing can compare to the real you right now— tits heaving, groaning and eyes fluttering a little each time he brushes on a few sensitive spots on your pussy with his tongue.
now, it's embarrassing how close you are to cumming on dean's tongue. and oh, he notices. he holds your bucking and writhing hips down with his free hand that's not grasping and holding onto yours—
and goes to fuckin' town.
"fuck— dean!" you think you're gonna pass out— because you could barely hear the sounds of dean slurping up your juices and sucking on your clit when you cum without warning, back arching off of the sheets and grinding into his tongue, your grip on his hand becoming almost bruising as the pleasure cascades over you in waves.
dean doesn't look away from you for a second as your pussy flutters on his tongue, moving his mouth slower once more to not let a drop of you go to waste, making sure you're completely spent, pulling soft groans and gasps from your lips.
your legs tremble and shake under the arm that dean had wrapped around your thigh— and he takes a second to just watch you in the post-orgasm state you're in.
"y'okay?" dean's voice is rough but soft at the same time, looking up at you from his position between your legs like you're the night sky itself.
you open your eyes again, lifting your head off of the pillows just enough to see dean's eyes looking right back at you— and oh, he's a sight, his lips, nose and chin absolutley covered in your slick— and his hair's even more messy than before now.
"yeah", you breathe out softly, managing a nod against the pillows. "yeah, i'm all good. c'mere, de."
dean sees the soft look in your eyes— and his own gaze melts as he obeys, lifting off of the mattress and out from between your legs to hover over you, your faces just inches apart again.
dean can't look away.
and he never wants to.
"you're goddamn gorgeous, y'know that?" dean murmurs as he looks down at your moonlit face.
at that, you reach your hand up in the distance between you two, cupping the side of dean's face— and his head immediately leans into your touch before you whisper back.
"and you're perfect, dean."
dean's chest tightens at that— and his gaze somehow softens even more. no one's ever called him perfect before, and he couldn't think of one person in his life who even believed that to be true.
but you were looking at dean like he was.
you notice dean's reaction immediately— it was hard not to with how close you were.
you meant those words you said to dean— because being perfect wasn't about having absolutely no flaws or weaknesses.
it was about knowing that, and still carrying on anyway.
and then it clicks. because you could talk all you wanted to dean.
or you could show him how perfect he was.
"lemme show you," you whisper before dean could even open his mouth to deny it. "let me show you how perfect you are, dean."
and those words are completely breaking down what little resistance dean had left. his eyes actually get a little misty as he’s looking down at you— because he can't believe you're here, telling him everything he's never heard before.
dean nods— and his voice is shaking with anticipation mixed with pure awe.
"yeah. yeah, okay."
and that's all you needed. you look at dean's face one last time before lifting your head to close the little distance between the both of you, kissing him with everything you had to give him.
you didn't kiss dean like before— that was in a state of pure lust, desire, and want. now, you're kissing him softer, slower, and with purpose.
and purpose was exactly what dean needed. he tries to keep himself upright and hovering over you, but the way you're kissing him has his arms trembling as you're literally melting him.
you only take my lips off of dean’s when the air he and you had been breathing through your noses wasn’t enough— and your thumb grazes on his cheek again as his forehead rests on top of yours, eyes fluttering a little as i whisper against his lips.
“lay down for me, de.”
you don't have to say it again. dean obliges in a heartbeat, lifting off of you and rolling onto his back in one fluid motion— and you follow behind, tossing your leg over his to straddle him once more
dean’s hands go to your hips once you’re straddling him, looking up at you now— he still looks a little wrecked from earlier, and his chest is rising and falling in a slower, steadier rhythm than before, like he’s trying to calm himself down.
but seeing your naked form straddling him like this once more is just making his heart start to thump against his chest— again.
your hands find dean’s own on your hips,your fingers trailing on his skin, grazing past his wrists and up his arms— you're not exactly slow, but you're also not very fast with it, either.
no, you take your time touching dean all over again, fingertips tracing over every scar and dent you could see and feel as you're straddling him. your eyes flick up to his face, meeting his gaze once more— but you just keep touching him.
"oh, look at you, de," your voice is an awed whisper while your hands move on dean’s chest, grazing on the anti-possession tattoo he had on his skin. "see? you’re perfect."
and dean can’t help the little shiver your touch brings him right now, even though he's literally just laying below you, half-propped up by the pillows like you once were. he just can’t help it, because you’ve always been able to get the best reactions out of him.
dean swallows hard as your hands continue their journey over his body— your fingertips roaming over his skin, tracing all the scars he’d earned, right across his chest and down to his stomach.
and his breath actually hitches when you touch his anti-possession tattoo again.
your fingers trace on dean’s tattoo, watching and loving his reactions to just your freakin' hands.
and your hands stay resting on dean’s chest, but a little closer to his shoulders, shifting closer to him in his lap, pressing the entirety of your bare body completely against his.
your voice is still a whisper when you talk again, searching his face as you ask him to do what you've always wanted to.
because you needed to show dean how much you wanted him.
"can i ride you, de?"
if dean was hard before, it's nothing compared to the way his dick almost hurts now, throbbing at the way you asked permission to ride him.
"god, yes" is what comes out from dean's clenched jaw, and his gaze is locked onto yours as his hands rest on your hips.
a soft smile tugs on your lips again, your gaze flicking down for a brief moment when you hear how strained dean’s voice was— and the sight of him hard for you sends a wave of heat that pools in your stomach, making you clench around nothing.
because you needed dean just as badly as he needed you.
your eyes flick back up to dean’s green ones. and you notice that neither of you are nervous for his to happen. this was dean, after all. you'd wanted him in the least friendly way possible for as long as you could remember— and now? it was actually going to come true.
you didn’t have to ask dean anything else, or even say something. he wanted all of you— and you were going to give it to him.
so that’s why you shift a little, reaching down and guiding yourself to sink onto dean, keeping his gaze while your hands are still on his shoulders.
a broken groan escapes dean when you start to lower yourself down on him— and his own body’s reaction to your walls sucking him in just makes him want you even more.
dean lets his gaze travel all across your face— and he’s still looking right into your eyes when he lets himself go completely slack underneath you, letting you take the lead.
your fingers dig a little into dean’s shoulder at the burning sensation of your pussy being stretched— and your breath hitches, hard. your head falls forward a little as you screw your eyes shut.
your mind had felt like it was going over a thousand miles per second, but when your legs finally hit dean's and your pussy hits the base of his dick, everything just... goes away.
and dean couldn’t keep himself completely still anymore. he actually growled a little when he felt you fully sink down on him, and the sound that left him when he feels your tightness around him was a little more primal-sounding than he’d like to admit right now.
"oh, fuck," he breathes out your name, "you’re tryna kill me."
you can only respond to dean’s words with a strangled noise as the burning sensation was becoming full-throttle now, your grip on dean’s shoulders a little tighter, your head still hung as you try to keep my breathing steady.
because you literally couldn’t move yet. it was still the best feeling you'd ever felt— but you had to get used to dean's dick being buried deep inside of you before you could actually start to move on top of him.
and the way you’re holding on to his shoulders right now and how you’re trying to hold back little noises is driving dean insane.
he’s gripping your hips so tight that it has to be almost painful, and his eyes are fixed on you, still watching you while he tries to stay still for you. but it was taking a hell of a lot of effort on his part.
dean's chest is rising and falling fast, and he can’t help it when he finally chokes out your name in a whisper, unable to keep it in anymore.
"move. please."
at dean’s plea, you flick your hips just a little to see if you were adjusted yet.
and oh, were you ever. your fingers finally release their death grip on dean’s shoulders, one of your hands finding and grasping one of his own that was on your hip— and you finally start to move on top of him, rocking your hips into his.
the groan that escapes dean is the deepest one yet, his hand clutching onto yours and his eyes shutting for a moment as he feels you moving, his free hand tightening on your hip again.
"oh, god," dean gasps out, "jesus—"
you let out a raggedy exhale mixed with a moan, attempting to stop your eyes from rolling back into your head as you continue to ride dean's dick. it was hard, but you managed to keep your eyes open and half-lidded and on him, wanting to see his face— and you grind your hips into his faster and harder.
seeing you like this was getting to be borderline unbearable for dean.
your tits are bouncing a little in dean's face, and you're just not letting up, and you're so tight and warm, and he just fuckin' loves you—
dean realizes he's gonna cum if you keep this up.
and the embarrassing part is you barely even started riding him.
so it’s a damn good thing he’s still got a shred of control over himself right now.
"je— s— slow it down for a sec, darlin'," dean manages to get out, gritting his teeth as his eyes screw shut. "please."
the moment those words leave dean’s mouth, you immediately do as he says— you don’t abruptly stop, instead gradually slowing your movements to allow for an easy transition.
your hand trails up from dean's shoulder to cup on the side of his face while your're still on top of him— your eyes then search his when you breathlessly whisper to him.
"you okay, de?"
dean opens his eyes when you ask him if he’s okay right now, knowing that was pure concern in your words. he’s taking a moment to let his body level out a bit, since you stopped like he asked you to. and when he does, he manages a nod once he’s able to somehow form words.
"yeah, 'm good, darlin’--" dean swallows and takes a big gulp of air. "just got a 'lil too close to the edge for a second there. don’t wanna blow it right now."
an exhale of relief you didn’t know you were holding in was let out at dean’s confirmation— and your thumb almost absentmindedly grazes on the skin of his cheek as your hand was still on the side of his face.
"oh," you also nod, gaze softening as you look down at dean under you still. his words make you feel warm inside, along with a little sense of pride, too— but you still had to confirm. "it doesn’t hurt, though, right?"
"doesn’t hurt,” dean responds immediately. and that’s a bit of a complete understatement, because being inside of you right now felt like heaven. his own hand comes up to where yours is, his fingers skimming over your skin as he smiles softly up at you once more. "just wanna be able to last a 'lil bit longer for you, 's all."
your eyebrows scrunch together at that, and your expression is almost goddamn melted at this point as you look down at dean. you weren't sure why those words impacted you so much, but your chest tightens with emotion before you speak again.
"oh, de," you literally whisper, your thumb still skimming back and forth on dean’s cheek. "y'know you don’t have to do that."
"yeah, i do," dean murmurs immediately in response, looking right into your eyes the whole time he talks. "i've wanted this— you for goddamn years. i'm not lettin' this end yet."
so you don't.
you nod, leaning in and pressing a kiss on dean's lips before you talk again.
"okay, de," you nod against his forehead. "just move me when you want to, alright?"
dean gratefully nods, too, appreciating your understanding. his hands find and hold your hips again—this time, with less of a death-grip. and after he takes a steadying breath, he starts to move you.
you just let dean work and grind your hips into his own, holding his shoulder and face with your hands, allowing him to take what he needed and set the pace.
after a while, though, dean lifts you up off his dick by your hi a few inches before setting you back down fully— starting to actually fuck you a little.
you'd been quiet for the most part so far— but once the head of dean's dick brushes against that spongy spot deep inside of you, a string of broken moans and gasps spill from your lips.
and that just spurs dean on.
you'd both waited long enough now. it's been years of stolen looks, suppressed jealousy, unspoken thoughts and feelings— and tonight, you're making it all come true in the darkness of the motel room.
thank god dean's hands had been guiding your hips— because you're starting to unravel faster than you can comprehend. and so is dean.
dean's fucking up into you now like he'll never be able to fuck you again— which you both know wasn't true. and after tonight, you know you'd happily sleep with dean's dick buried inside of your pussy.
it takes only a whimper falling from your lips for dean to know that you're close— and your hand flies down to one of his on your hips again. he gladly takes it, wanting to hold your hand when he cums inside of you—
wait. is he allowed to do that?
"y— oh," dean groans out your name— he has not been silent throughout this entire ordeal, either. broken noises of pleasure and little groans of your name escaped his lips whenever your walls clenched around him. "can i— god—"
you didn't have to ask what dean meant by that. you nod almost frantically as his hand are still gripping your hips, guiding your pussy up and down his dick— and you squeeze his other hand tighter, the one you were holding.
and only then does dean let himself go, again.
your orgasm comes at the same time dean's does— and you both arch into each other and trembling as your moans echo off the motel room's walls. dean's face buries between your tits and groans into the skin while he spills up into you, your juices mixing with his.
you both stay like that for a while, naked, sweating, slick and gasping for air for god knows how long— until dean's raw and breathless voice vibrating on your breasts breaks the silence.
"i think i was made for you."
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you now have four ( 4 ) new message from the author ! ↓
oh heyyy... are any of y'all still here LMFAOOOOOO but seriously, on a real note— if you have stayed to the very end: first, THANK YOU for reading! and second, if you enjoyed, please consider SHOWING ME THAT ( reblogs / comments / etc ) because this took me FOREVER to write, and i want to know if my efforts are worthwhile!
also i will NOT be apologizing for how long it is, because mera (@bluemerakis) taught me that longer fics (especially smut) are acceptable! so THERE!
OH i also used a very special headcanon from @figthoughts' mastermind brain for this one because mr. dean winchester holding your hand while he eats you out is very much and totally 100% canon for me as well. fig you match my freak like no other and i hope to one day write as good and absolutely filthily as you do HEHE smooches to you my pookie <3
my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3
Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.
Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut
Warnings: a bit angsty, a bit fluffy
Chapter Word Count: 3995
—-MDNI—-
A/N: WELL. It’s been a hot minute since I updated THIS fic, and for that I’m really fucking sorry. It lost its direction for a little while, but now I know for sure where I want to take it. Also apologies if Dean seems a little out of character, but I needed this from him ahhhhhh. ALSO I’m changing for formatting slightly so it matches the rest of my fics lol. I hope you enjoy it! As usual, it’s only proof read by meeeeeee so pls pls let me know of any errors.
Photos from Pinterest
Previous Chapter: Chapter 14
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It had been a couple of weeks since the incident at the bar, which meant that it had also been a couple of weeks since I’d given Dean the treatment of his dreams in the back of the Impala. Sam didn’t talk to us for two whole days after that, and Dean was only able to win him back over by offering to be on ‘lore duty’ for their next few cases. Dean on lore duty also meant that I was on lore duty, because that man complained more than a middle aged woman in Walmart. Things had been relatively steady, with nothing too out of the ordinary occurring - I continued cleaning up after the boys as they somehow still couldn’t figure out how to get bloodstains out of cotton, and they’d concluded that they would live a far longer life if they let me do the cooking. To be honest, I was happy with that arrangement, considering that they were the ones going out and making the world a less shitty place.
Evening had crept in and I was tidying the dishes from dinner, Sam sweetly offering to wash and dry everything since all he’d done was read books all day - not lore books for once. Dean had popped to the shops after we’d finished eating, muttering something about beer and pie on his way out. Despite nothing out of the ordinary happening, things between Dean and I had slowed dramatically. Considering we were jumping each others bones at every available opportunity, since the bar we’ve only had sex once, and that was the day straight after. Since then, Dean had been… gentle. Too gentle that it seemed out of character for him. He no longer threw me against the wall and ravaged me senseless; instead, he would kiss me softly outside of my room before retiring to his own across the hall. If I tried to instigate anything more, he’d simply give me one last, lingering kiss before finding a reason to excuse himself. It was weird. Really fucking weird. And now that I was finally on my own with Sam, maybe I could get to the bottom of it once and for all.
“Is everything ok with Dean?” I asked, breaking the peaceful silence that was blanketing us. Sam turned his head to look at me, not halting what he was doing.
“Yeah of course, why?” His voice seemed genuinely curious as he replied. I sighed.
“He’s just been… distant, that’s all. I wasn’t sure if he’d spoken to you about anything, as he’s not said anything to me.”
“Distant?” Sam almost scoffed, “I see you two together all the time. What makes you think he’s being distant?”
“Well..” I sighed. He’s not wrong, Dean and I still spend a lot of time together, but I don’t really want to go down the rabbit hole of my sex life with his brother. That would be uncomfortable for everyone. “I’m not sure,” I said eventually, “something just seems… off. I can’t put my finger on it.” Sam was quiet for a few moments, contemplating his response before finally answering.
“Why not just ask him?”
It was my turn to scoff.
“You seriously think that I’m going to get a decent answer from him if I do?” I asked, causing the taller Winchester to finally stop what he was doing and turn to look at me. His brows pinched together as he dried his hands on the fraying towel, searching his mind for the right words. Deep down he knew I was right; Dean was the king of evading conversations that he didn’t want to have, and both of us knew that he would do the same thing here.
Before Sam could find the right words, we were interrupted by the main topic of our conversation entering the bunker, slamming the large door behind him with a loud creak and SLAM that echoed through the whole building. From how quickly he appeared in the kitchen, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume that he ran through the halls to get here. Dean waltzed in, placing two large bags on the table before shrugging off his jacket and looking between us, the smile he was wearing fading slightly.
“Everything ok?” He asked in a tone that made it hard to believe that he actually wanted to know the answer. I looked up at him and smiled.
“Just great, thanks,” I said, but the turn on my lips felt forced after my short conversation with Sam. Dean seemed to notice this too.
“You sure?” He asked before reaching for a third bag that I didn’t see him bring in. It was different from the others, which were just plain gas station bags made of plastic. This third one was made of thick brown paper, a pretty logo stamped on the side that I couldn’t quite make out from where I stood. Dean had caught me staring at it as he dipped his hand inside, his expression turning slightly bashful as his eyes locked with mine. He seemed to pause for a moment, debating something with himself before he flashed me a smile. Not the usual ‘Dean’ smile that was full of confidence and charm, but a smile I’d never seen on his lips before; one of hesitation and nervousness. Before I had the chance to ask him what was going on, he pulled his hand out and held it towards me in one swift swoop. I gasped, the sound small and oddly soft for myself, for in his grasp was a beautiful, pastel-palette bouquet of flowers. They were delicate, like the wildflowers that grew in a glade. The petals were in the softest shades of pink, blue, yellow and purple. Even the stems and leaves were a gentle green. These were not supermarket flowers, as they’d been wrapped with a similar brown parcel paper to that of the bag they came in, and they were finished off with a bow. I stared at them for a little while longer, the surprise from seeing something so fragile and beautiful in the rough, scarred grip of Dean Winchester was enough to make my heart flip.
“There was a lady selling these on the side of the road. I thought… I thought you might like them,” Deans voice held a tenderness to it that I was unfamiliar with, his tone slightly husky from the softness of it. I took the flowers gently, my fingers brushing over his as I held them, unable to tear my gaze away from the gift. He stood watching quietly, and I realised I hadn’t said anything at all since he pulled them from the bag.
“You… you bought me flowers,” I said quietly, looking up at him. Deans complexion pinkened slightly.
“I did,” he said, “Is that…ok?”
It was my time to blush slightly.
“Of course it is. They’re beautiful - thank you, Dean,” I smiled up at him, a smile that he returned in kind. Looking up into his evergreen eyes, I saw a side of him that I was incredibly unfamiliar with, but that wasn’t to say that I didn’t want to know more.
“I should probably get these into some water before they start to wilt,” I said, tearing my eyes away from his before I did something to ruin the moment. Dean cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck.
“Good idea,” he said, before helping me search the cupboards.
“Do you guys even own a vase?” I asked, shooting him a raised brow. He paused for a moment, broad shoulders hunched over as he searched a cupboard at floor level.
“Good fucking question,” he laughed, his usual demeanour returning. We searched for a moment longer before he pulled out a pint glass.
“Will this work?” He looked between the glass and the flowers, almost as though he was waiting for the plants to respond themselves.
“Yeah, that should be fine,” I smiled at him as I took the glass and filled it with water, taking the paper off the flowers before carefully placing them in. Dean and I both stood back and admired how pretty they were, especially in contrast to the harsh metals in the bunkers kitchen.
“You know, I think you’re supposed to cut the bottoms off the stems.”
“HOLY FUCK.”
“SAM! SERIOUSLY?!”
I almost collapsed from the shock of Sam suddenly reminding us that he was somehow still in the room. I don’t know how, but the moment that Dean had walked in, I’d completely forgotten that he was even standing over by the sink. Dean obviously hadn’t realised either, judging from the way he had his hand over heart, like he was trying to stop it from escaping his rib cage.
“You guys seriously forgot that I was here, didn’t you?” He gawped at us, throwing his arms up. Offering him a sheepish look, I glanced at Dean who did the same. He also threw in a nervous shrug for good measure. “You’re both ridiculous,” Sam’s words were exasperated as he dumped the towel he was holding on the dinner table and paced out of the room. Dean and I locked eyes for a moment, both reading the silence before we erupted into giggles.
“You’ve been here with him the whole time - how’d you forget he was there?” Dean questioned, starting to empty the other bags he’d brought home.
“I don’t know. I was talking to him about-” I paused, suddenly remembering the conversation we were having before. My eyes quickly flicked to Dean.
“About…?” He turned to face me from where he stood at the fridge, wearing a curious glint in his eye. I shook my head.
“I can’t even remember,” I lied, flashing him a quick grin to keep him unsuspecting. It seemed to work, as he turned back to what he was doing - loading a months worth of beer into the only fridge we had, apparently. “You distracted me. With flowers. Of course I was going to forget he was there,” I winced as the words tumbled out a little bitchier than I’d hoped for, yet Dean didn’t seem to care; if anything he chuckled as he turned around.
“You make it sound like no one has ever bought you flowers before,” he smiled as he walked over to me, and when I didn’t say anything, his smile dropped slightly. “You have been bought flowers before, right?” I looked up at him and bit my lip, shaking my head slightly.
“Bobby used to buy them for me on my birthdays, but that was it. No one has ever handed me flowers and said what you said though,” I felt warm again simply remembering his words. They were simple. An honest statement not shrouded with ulterior motives. I thought you might like them. He had thought of me when he saw something as beautiful and soft as the wildflowers on our kitchen table. I always thought he might have likened me more to a hand grenade than anything else, considering how we first met.
“He didn’t- I mean, ex-boyfriends never bought you some for anniversaries or Valentine’s Day?” I knew who he was thinking of, and I was glad he didn’t mention his name. I shook my head.
“Nope, we were either too young for me to care about flowers, or I dated total douchebags who’d buy me a cheap dinner and pack of condoms,” I shrugged nonchalantly, yet I couldn’t stop the bitterness bubble in my gut a little. Dean wasn’t oblivious to this.
“I mean, It’ll be a lot of flowers, but I can make up for it.”
A whole day had passed since Dean bought me flowers, and the conversation I’d had with Sam was still fresh in my mind. I hadn’t slept well, overthinking every which way to strike up that particular conversation with the eldest Winchester. It wasn’t that big of a deal - I just wanted to know why he’d gone from, well, Dean, to some celibate nice-guy who brought me gifts. The only thing I could think was that I’d done something wrong to make him back away, yet I couldn't for the life of me pinpoint where I’d gone wrong. It was weird. Weird as fuck, and the concept of Dean having been replaced by an alien sounded entirely plausable. Then there was Sam, who, for a very intelligent and observant guy, seemed absolutely none the wiser. By the time 3AM had ticked by, I felt like I was still at square one, and even though it took almost another hour, a restless sleep eventually overcame me.
We sat in the library an hour or so after dinner, the silence thick except for the occasional turning of a page and the quiet hum of the vents. Dean was pretending to read whilst he sipped his beer, Sam was reading, but at an alarming rate, and I was doing my damndest to not self-destruct. The tiredness was catching up with me - to be honest it had been clawing at me for a good few hours now - and my mind kept darting back to how to instigate my conversation with Dean. It was all I could think about. I didn’t want to have to talk to him about this, but my self-sabotaging self conscience was screaming at me that it was my fault, therefore I had to fix it. Plus I was in no position to lose any more sleep over the whole thing, especially since everyone else seemed none the wiser.
Eventually, after reading and then re-reading the same page over a dozen times I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor. Turning the only two heads that were in the room, I wearily announced that I was going for a walk.
“I’ll go with you,” Dean stood quickly, sliding into the jacket he retrieved from the back of his chair.
“No it’s ok, I kinda need to clear my head,” I started walking towards the door, hoping he’d change his mind. He only laughed.
“Sweetheart, you attract trouble like a moth to a flame. I’m coming with you,” and with that, I lost that battle before it had even begun. He strode past me, heading for the garage. I frowned.
“I wanted to go for a walk,” I sighed, protesting.
“I know,” Dean replied casually, looking over his shoulder at me without halting, “but I thought of something better. Come on let's go” His tone left no room for negotiation so I followed him, albeit reluctantly.
As we entered the garage and climbed into the car, the doors squeaking before slamming shut, I finally released the tension from my lungs in an exasperated sigh.
“Dean, just tell me what your plan is,” I slumped into the seat as he pulled away and out of the bunker, leaving it behind. He didn’t respond until we were on the road.
“Do you like sunsets?” He asked, the question out of the blue.
“What?”
“Do you like sunsets?” He asked again, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I looked at him for a moment, wondering where he was going with this before I finally answered.
“Yes, of course I like fucking sunsets. Dean what the fuck-”
“Just sit tight and see, ok?”
And with that, he turned the music up and I folded my hands in my lap, watching as the world passed by through the window.
It wasn’t a long car ride, perhaps half an hour or so, but we were far enough away that I had no idea where we were. He pulled the car onto a grassy bank, the area relatively quiet considering the pleasant evening, and I sat quietly, waiting for him to say or do anything. When he turned the engine off, followed by the music, the sudden silence felt deafening; the only sound being the soft pat pat pat of his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Where are we?” I finally broke the silence, unable to sit in it for much longer.
“Waconda Lake,” he said calmly, opening his door and hoping out.
“And do, pray tell, explain why you’ve brought me here?” I followed suit, slamming the door as I made my way around the front of the car. He threw a confused expression my way.
“You said you wanted to clear your head.”
I laughed, the sound a little false and disbelieving.
“My head is more muddled than it was before, Dean. You’re confusing the shit out of me.”
He held my gaze for a moment as he stepped closer, finally coming to stand beside me. We both leant on the hood of Baby, the warmth from the engine seeping through the metal and my jeans, bringing an odd sort of comfort. We both looked out over the expanse of water, watching quietly how the ripples lapped at the shore, the sound gentle on the ears. Moments passed, and when he didn’t say anything, I took a deep breath before carrying on - now was as good a time as any.
“Dean… has something happened between us? Because one minute I’m giving you head in the back of the impala and the next, you…. You barely touch me. Have I done something? Because I wracked my brain over and over and I can’t think for the life of me where I went wrong, but this-” I gestured to him and then myself, “doesn’t feel normal. It doesn’t feel like us.”
Dean took some time to gather his thoughts, his tongue poking through his lips to wet them, almost nervously.
“(Y/n), when I first met you, you were a bitch,” I blinked at his unexpectedly harsh words, but waited for him to continue without biting back. “You infuriated me to no end. But then, we had sex whilst working that case - probably the best sex I’d ever had up until that point to be honest - and then after a while… then you softened slightly. You let me in, let me know you, and I realised pretty damn quickly that actually, you were fucking awesome,” he paused, looking down at his boots for a moment before looking back up; that piercing gaze locking onto mine. “We had the best sex I think I’ve ever had, like… ever. Over and over, and I realised that, shit. I was obsessed with you. I noticed everything you did, and everything you said. I memorised what your footsteps sounded like coming down the hall whilst I laid in bed at night. Hell, I even shared pie with you. But then, after we’d finished watching all of those Lord of the Rings movies you said something that felt like a punch to my gut.”
Shit.
It was my fault that he’d been so distant, I fucking knew it. What was it? I watched a slight sadness cast over Deans features as my mind spun out of control - what the fuck did I say to him? Everything felt hazy; we’d gotten drunk that night and not every memory felt clear cut, but if Dean had remembered it then it must have been shitty. I looked up at him expectantly, urging him to continue and put me out of my misery.
“You said that we were just fuck buddies.”
I sucked a sharp breath in through my teeth. I remember that. I remember those words leaving my lips. I remember pushing him out of my room so I could shower and get dressed. I was oblivious - not a fucking clue that it affected him. I mean come on, it was Dean. I didn't think… I didn't think he would have wanted anything more. At least not from me. I looked back up at him, finally seeing the turmoil swimming in his eyes. He huffed out a shaky breath before carrying on.
“I didn't think it would have such a hold over me like it did. It was all I could hear when I went to bed that night; your words just playing around in my head. Then it fucking hit me - I didn't want that. I didn't want to be fuck buddies. Not with you.”
Now it was my turn to feel like I'd been punched in the gut. Was he breaking things off? Had he finally had enough of me and decided that I wasn't worth it? Was he… bored of me? I felt the hot tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision and obscuring my view of him. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I feared my voice would croak and my words would sound like a garbled mess. I thought he liked what we were doing. I thought he was happy. I guess I was wrong.
Deans brows knit together as he noticed my tears, one escaping and leaving a quickly-cooling trail down my cheek. He reached forward, lifting my chin with his finger and wiped my sadness away with the rough pad of his thumb. His chest rose and fell with his breathing, slightly quicker than normal as he looked down at me, his finger lingering on my skin.
“Why are you crying?” He asked softly, the sun beginning to lower in the sky, ribbons of amber and gold settling over the surface of the lake and glowing against Deans skin. I sniffled.
“Because… I thought you liked what we were doing. I thought you enjoyed our intimacy. I’m sorry - I guess I was wrong. That’s my fault, I’m sorry-”
“What?” Deans eyes widened, “of course I did. Shit, I still do. I do. I love it, and I don’t want it to stop, but I want to do this right. With you,” he jumped up to stand in front of me, his hands had moved to the tops of my arms, his large palms gripping my biceps as though he was stopping me from flying away.
“Do it right?” I was puzzled, having no idea what he meant. He straightened, releasing me and wiping a hand over his face.
“Yeah. Do it right. I’m not the kind of guy that does this shit. I’m a hunter; by nature I fuck things up. I piss people off because I always do the wrong thing, and then they leave,” he paused, the break in his words heavy with apprehension. “I can’t fuck things up with you. I can’t have you leave because I’ve left you feeling used and given you nothing in return, or I’ve stood by and let someone else come along and sweep you off your feet. I can’t fucking do that.”
My breath felt like it was caught in my throat. What was he saying? Why does he look so nervous? What the fuck is going on?
“Dean- what’s going on? I don’t feel like that, and I don’t want to leave. Why are you so worried that I will?”
“Because it would fucking destroy me, (Y/n), and with you, for you, I need to do things right.”
He looked at me with more vulnerability than I’d ever expected to see from a man like him. Someone so rugged and hardened to the darkest parts of the world, who built impenetrable walls to protect himself because life had chewed him up and spat him out over and over and over again. He’d literally been to Hell, yet here he was, wearing a heart of glass on his sleeve, preparing to have it irreversibly shattered. I was about to step forward, to embrace him and reassure him that I wasn't going anywhere. That I couldn’t, not without him. He held his hands up slightly, like he was protecting himself from something that I couldn’t see, and I felt my heart clench, wanting nothing more than to reassure him that everything was ok. When he spoke next, his words held the same impact as a hurricane.
Summary: Sam and Dean have been following their father’s trail even after he’s gone, following leads from his journal and tying some loose ends. When they read of an unusual store he used to visit in the town they happen to be passing through, they can’t help but take a look - meeting (Y/), an omega on the edge, and when Dean saves her from a shitty situation, life could talk a turn in a whole different direction.
A/B/O dynamics, eventual smut
Warnings: language, violence, attempted assault
Chapter Word Count: 3986
—-MDNI—-
A/N: FIRST OF ALL IM SO SORRY. I know it’s been months since I’ve posted anything, but tbh there is a reason and you’ll find out soon enough aha. SECOND OF ALL this is my first a/b/o fic! It won’t be a long one, tbh I intended for this to be a one shot but it would have been waaaaay too long haha. Anyway I hope you like it! It’s only been proof read by moi so please let me know of any errors!
Photos from Pinterest
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Shit. Shit.
“Fuck!”
I threw the empty pill bottle across my bathroom, watching as it ricocheted off the confined tiled walls before landing pitifully at my feet. Empty.
Again.
It seemed as though I was going through these scent blockers and heat suppressants faster than normal, which didn’t sit right. I only take one of each a day. Right? Thinking as hard as I could, my mind wandered back to the half dozen late shifts I’d stayed and worked over the last month. I would take an extra blocker a couple of hours before I was set to walk home after closing - normally around midnight. That’s almost an extra weeks worth of pills I’d used… Shit.
“No use fretting over it now,” I muttered to myself as I hastily applied my mascara, almost blinded by the harsh white light framing the bathroom mirror. I took a step back as I finished acknowledging that my hair wasn’t going to play ball today and to just roll with the shitty cards the universe had dealt me. With already slightly smudged make up, I huffed in annoyance before I strode into my bedroom and threw on the outfit I’d laid out for myself. I poked my fingers through my tights three times, pulled the button off my shorts, stabbed myself with the safety pin I had used to replace said button, and got a white deodorant stain on the side of my black tank top. Luckily my flannel hid the stain and my boots went on without incident, allowing me to leave my apartment with an almost level head. I just had to pray to anything or anyone that would listen that I would make it to work unscathed.
And that I didn’t catch the attention of any dickhead alphas.
Deans POV
“Hey Sammy, I remember dad saying something about a Hunters store around here,” I said over the music, one hand tapping the wheel and the other hanging out the window. The sun was out for once, and with it being late spring, the temperature was comfortable enough to drive slow with the windows down. The scent of food and freshness wafted on the warm breeze as I looked around, hoping my memory was serving me right.
“Yeah I think you’re right Dean,” Sam said, flicking through the pages of dads journal until he found what he was looking for. “‘Deadmans’ Emporium’, he wrote that it poses as a holistic store but doubles as a Hunters shop. He mentions a password though to get access.”
“A password? Seriously? Did he write the magic word down?” I shook my head - these people should know a freakin’ Hunter when they see one. I continued to look out the window as I heard the turning of pages, listening as Sam searched for an answer. I took a deep breath, guessing dad didn’t write it down. Fucking typical. As I inhaled, the most delicious smell filled my senses - it was almost mouth watering, and I could practically feel the saliva pooling over my tongue.
“Shit, do you smell that? There must be a pie shop around here,” I pulled over and parked against the curb before Sam had a chance to say anything. Just as I was about to get out, he sighed.
“Dean I don’t smell anything, you’re thinking through your stomach again.”
I sniffed the air again, practically tasting the apple and cinnamon as we both stepped out of the car, the metal doors creaking before they were slammed shut.
“Dude, are you getting sick? You seriously can’t smell that?” I frowned at him as we both stood on the sidewalk, my gaze travelling up and down the rows of shops and cafes; not spotting a single bakery or pie store.
Well that's fucking weird.
I took a step back, the scent felt closer than before and with my stomach distracting me, I didn't see the person walking behind me until I'd bumped into them.
“What the fuck - watch where you're going!”
A sharp yet feminine voice cut through the air, and I turned to face her just in time to see her rip off her headphones. Before I could even get a word out, an unmistakable scent of anger and apprehension surrounded me, almost blotting out the heavenly smell from before. There was no mistaking it; she was an omega. And a grumpy one at that.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you there - no need to bite my head off, geez,” I held my hands up in mock surrender, the bitterness of her frustration fading from my senses. She clicked her tongue against her teeth before shoving her headphones back on.
“Alphas,” was all she muttered before storming away.
I lowered my hands as Sam tentatively came to stand beside me, as though he was wary that the feisty omega would suddenly race back and punch him.
“What was that all about?” He breathed, as he watched after her.
I shrugged.
“Fuck if I know. She definitely wasn’t on scent blockers, that’s for sure. Could sense her bad mood a mile off.” I couldn't help but glance around a little more, hoping to catch sight of that hidden pie shop that was so clearly evading us. Upon realising that it was nowhere to be found and the previously lingering scent had now diminished with the breeze, I gave up on those efforts and went back to the task at hand: finding that Hunter store.
Y/Ns POV
The shop was the same as it was every day; with boxes and baskets of hundreds of different crystals and rocks and charms stacked neatly against the walls. Incense lined one of the walls in varying types, colours and quantities, whilst all manner of candles cluttered a table in the middle of the room. Suncatchers hung in the open window, splattering rainbows onto every surface as wind chimes sung in the soft breeze. Everything from body jewellery to oil burners was available for purchase.
“You look like a ray of fucking sunshine,” my beta colleague, May, chirped from behind the counter as she shuffled her tarot deck, long nails and rings clacking together.
“Thanks, that makes me feel loads better,” I rolled my eyes at her, quickly dumping my backpack and headphones in my locker out back before returning to her at the main desk. “I ran out of scent blockers and heat suppressants this morning and I haven't had a heat for a while. I'm just on edge, I guess, knowing it could arrive any day now.”
Her expression softened as I sat on an old bar stool beside her, leaning across the counter.
“You want me to give you something herbal for it?”
I couldn't stop my nose from scrunching.
“That stuff literally tastes like dirt. Plus it's bitter.”
May grinned.
“It's not supposed to taste good, you know that right? It's medicine. Medicine never tastes good.”
“Yeah well, I'd rather wait for more pills thanks. I felt like I was burping up mud for a week the last time you gave me that goop.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, returning to shuffling her cards.
No more than half an hour had ticked by when the bell jingled and the door to the shop opened. I’d been organising the body jewellery display when I looked up to greet them, a forced smile on my lips.
“Good morning! Welcome to Deadman’s.”
“Hi- oh, Sammy, look who it is - it’s little miss sunshine.”
The moment he opened his mouth to talk, I remembered him straight away from this morning. How could I forget the alpha who stood on my foot and brushed his arm against mine, leaving behind an annoyingly pleasant scent behind - something akin to woodsmoke and fresh leather. It took a lot of deep breathing during the rest of my walk and ten minutes standing next to the burning sandalwood as soon as I arrived to get rid of it. I couldn’t help but huff and roll my eyes, glancing over at May who was laying a complex spread of tarot and oracle cards combined, looking for any sort of assistance from her. Yet, unsurprisingly, she looked at the two men and nodded, throwing me a wink and a thumbs-up. Not what I needed.
“What can I say,” I said eventually in a dull tone, crossing my arms, “I’m always so thrilled when an oblivious alpha stands on my foot.”
The taller of the two chuckled slightly before shrugging, knowing that I was likely completely in my right to feel defensive from the get-go here. The broader one simply widened his eyes and scratched the back of his neck, looking more apologetic than before.
“Yeah,” he looked me dead in the eye, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - I was looking for pie.”
“Pie?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, pie,” he said again, without any further elaboration.
“Ooh!” May suddenly perked up, clapping her hands as her bracelets jingled loudly, “apparently (Y/n) smel-”
“Ok!” I practically jumped in front of her, cutting her off abruptly and saving myself from any possible embarrassment that she might spew about me. I glanced towards the door where the two men were still standing, watching us with slight amusement.
“Anyway,” I started, smoothing the invisible wrinkles from my tank top, “Is there anything we can help you gents with today?”
They seemed to both suddenly remember why they were here and stepped further into the shop, clearing their throats as their boots thudded against the exposed floorboards.
“Uh, yeah, we’re looking for a shop that sells what might be considered unusual or… occult… items, and we’ve been led to this place by our dad. Apparently he used to be a regular here.”
May and I shared another look, this time one of caution as she stopped what she was doing and I placed the box of body jewellery down on top of the display cabinet.
“Huh,” I bit my lip as I watched the two strange men shift under our sudden scrutinous gazes. With my arms now folded across my chest, I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, letting the silence hang for a second. “So… who’s your daddy dearest?”
“Oh uh, his name was John. John Winchester,” the tallest one spoke, a sudden sadness on his features, vanishing as soon as it appeared.
The air suddenly felt cold in my lungs. He said ‘was’. John Winchester ’was’ their father. John.
“John’s your dad?” My voice cracked slightly, hoping I didn’t hear them correctly.
“Why did you say ‘was’? What do you mean ‘was’?” May was suddenly on her feet behind the front desk, a look of panic shining in her wide eyes.
The two men looked at each other briefly before the broader alpha spoke this time.
“He died, a few months back,” his voice was gruff with bottled up grief. I could tell just from one look at him that this was a man who didn’t talk about his feelings, who didn’t shed tears in his sorrow, regardless of how smothering it was. And I know first hand just how suffocating that sadness could be. He swallowed an invisible lump in his throat just as May let out a quiet sob as my chest suddenly felt tighter than before.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I all but whispered, smothering my own sadness. “So that means that you boys are Dean and Sam,” I looked between them as May brushed past me into the back of the store, unable to control her tears. They shared a look of surprise.
“Your dad spoke about you a lot, you know,” I unfolded my arms from my chest and relaxed my stance a little, stepping around them slowly until I reached the front door which I locked with a loud CLICK. They both looked at me quizzically.
“He did?” The tallest one, who I assumed to be Sam, asked with a questionable tone and raised brows. I smiled, yet the sadness stopped it from reaching my eyes.
“Yeah,” I started walking towards the back of the store where May had gone, gesturing for the boys to follow. “I could tell he was proud of you and what you did. To be honest, we should have realised something was up when he didn’t stop by.”
“He came by often?” The infuriatingly pleasant scented one, who must have been Dean, asked, his attention piquing.
“Yeah, you didn’t know?” I pushed open a heavily decorated wooden door, the fabric of the tapestries pinned to its surface were soft to the touch. He huffed.
“No, we didn’t,” Deans tone was abrupt, so I felt it best to leave the conversation at that. Of course, these guys have lost their father and the last thing that they probably want is some stranger barging in on their business.
“Well,” I started, adding one last final detail before diverting the conversation away, “he always phoned ahead to order certain supplies-”
“Supplies?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, nothing ever too major, normally it was simple things like herbs and specialist bullets, or the occasional talisman or lore book. He was supposed to make a collection a few weeks ago actually; an order for a bunch of books and new rosaries. We should have known something was up when he didn’t show, considering he normally arrives like clockwork armed with breakfast and coffee.” I couldn't stop my lip from twitching in a fleeting fond smile, before quickly dropping it and wringing my fingers awkwardly. The room was quickly becoming pungent with the smell of grief and sadness, the scent bitter on my senses as I tried to figure out who it was coming from; or if it was simply from the both of them.
I wiped my hands on my tights and cleared my throat before leading them further into the back of the shop. We passed through our combined staff and locker room, Sam having to duck under the occasional low-hanging dream catcher before approaching a large steel door adorned with half a dozen locks of varying sizes and painted with a handful of different sigils. I’d already entered the room earlier in the day, so all it took was for me to slide one large bolt across for the thing to swing open.
“Well that’s not creepy as shit,” I heard Dean mutter under his breath as the two peered into the pitch black room. I couldn’t help but chuckle, striding past them and into the looming shadows that reached every corner. Even when I flicked on the light, illuminating rows and rows of shelves housing meticulously labelled boxes, the air still felt heavy and thick as though we were deep underground in a cave or cellar- not a mere backroom.
“Wow, it’s like an evidence lock up in here,” Sam said quietly, his eyes surveying the area before stepping in.
“Yeah,” I breathed, walking over to a particular box on the far side of the room labelled in big black letters; “WINCHESTER”. “Keeping some of the items that we do under lock and key definitely requires the same level of organisation - if not more.” I pulled the box off the shelf, the weight of it taking me by surprise as it almost slipped from my grip. Before I even had a chance to catch it, Dean was at my side, sliding his arms round the box and bearing most of the weight in an instant. The gasp that flew from my lips when his rough fingers grazed mine was involuntary, and I made the mistake of looking up at him to thank him. His eyes, the same green as a forest at dawn pierced into my own and that familiar scent of woodsmoke and leather wrapped around me, catching me off guard. I quickly pulled away, unable to stop the heat from creeping up my neck and across my cheeks. He looked as though he was about to say something when his voice seemed to catch in his throat, his eyes widening as they flitted about my features.
“Y-you - it was you-” he stuttered, his chest rising and falling a little faster than before.
“What-”
“Dean what are you-” Sam had started to interject with concern before Dean cut him off.
“Pie,” he said abruptly.
“What are you on about?”
“You’re the pie,” he snapped his head around to look at Sam, “She’s the pie- from earlier,” the tone of his voice was a flurry of emotions and I couldn’t seem to pinpoint a single one to latch onto. Sam simply stood up straight and tilted his head, a look of curiosity finding his features and a small smile on his lips.
“Huh, how about that,” was all he said before May burst into the room, her jingling jewellery always reminding me of a cat with a bell on its collar. Her face was flushed and blotchy, eyes puffy and nose a little pink. She was clearly devastated to hear about John. They’d always had good conversations when he arrived an he had always treated us like good friends or family.
“What's going on in here?” She asked, and I was surprised to not hear a tremble in her voice.
“Well,” Sam began before myself or Dean could even open our mouths, “Dean says that (Y/n) smells like pie.”
“Huh,” May huffed, her expression now almost identical to that of Sam's from before. “How about that.”
The afternoon had passed by without further incident. We introduced ourselves properly and they did the same, even showing us some of their dads journal from where he’d written about us on occasion after his visits. The brothers had collected the items their father had ordered, as well as purchased a few things of their own before giving their thanks and heading out. Evening had rolled around and the sky was flushed with pinks and oranges as the sun began to dip behind the buildings. I peered between the suncatchers out of the front window, apprehension starting to bubble. It would be dark within the hour and I still had to walk home. No scent blockers to mask the fact that I was an omega with an impending heat - the whole ordeal with Deans blissful scent filling my head earlier hadn't helped in the slightest, and I'd felt warm ever since. The walk to my apartment wasn't long, but it was long enough for something to go horribly wrong.
“Want me to walk home with you?” May offered politely as she switched the lights off, draping her bag over her shoulder, her whimsical outfit glowing in the last rainbows from the suncatchers. I shook my head, knowing she needed to get home.
“It's ok, I'll power walk like a bitch and get home in 5 minutes,” I grinned, offering an ounce of confidence. She didn't seem convinced, yet she didn't argue.
“Just text me when you get home, ok?”
“Of course,” I reassured her as we both stepped outside, locked the store, and went our separate ways.
Despite my headphones being comfortably on my head, I played no music. As a result it only made the thud thud thud of my boots on the pavement more deafening as I hurried home, eager to avoid hungry eyes. The air was beginning to chill, yet it acted more like a cooling balm for the heat that had started to prickle under my skin. At this point, it was hard to tell if my exertion or my heat was to blame for that, and now was seriously not the time to find out.
Every shadow painted on concrete surfaces by the setting sun set me on edge, every flutter of a birds wings made my heart palpitate, and every person I passed nearly stopped me in my tracks. I did my best not to pay attention, but I couldn't help but feel the gazes from heads turned when my scent reached them, often bringing them to a halt.
Halfway. I was almost halfway home when the one sound I didn't want to hear sounded loud and clear, sinking to the pit of my stomach with dread - heavy footsteps racing up behind me. One pair at first, but another quickly joined, though a little further away. With the fear of what could possibly happen to me looming just on the horizon, I broke into a run without even looking back, making it no more than a few strides before a hand wrapped around my wrist in a painful grip and spun me around. At first I was petrified - frozen stiff by this aggressive, unknown alpha that had decided to try his luck. I didn’t recognise him, but he didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary - just an average guy on the outside. Though the slightly crazed glint in his eye along with his almost sour scent and the way he licked his lips was enough to make my stomach churn and skin crawl. I squeezed my eyes shut as he yanked me closer to him, my headphones clattering to the ground when something else happened. A silver lining to my impending doom. A figure, tall and dark and moving fast on long strides appeared behind my attacker, standing almost a whole head above him and with an expression that could make death itself quiver in his boots.
Dean
Barely having a chance to process anything that was unfurling in front of me, Dean had yanked the Alpha back by his shoulders with a grip strong enough to make the first crunch. The second crunch was one of high impact; a blunt force colliding with a jaw, possibly dislocating it and splattering teeth and blood across the pavement. And the third crunch was more of a sickening thud as a limp body hit the floor. I stood frozen to the spot, my mind unable to keep up with everything unfurling in front of me. Though I jumped into action as soon as I saw Dean reach from the attackers limp body, wearing a face of fury, his fist still clenched.
“Dean- Dean you don't- you'll kill him,” I panicked, not knowing what he was fully capable of as an alpha. Knowing he was John Winchester's son, I would assume he was capable of terrible things, even if they were heroic at heart. Reaching for him, I wrapped my fingers around his arm. He was without his leather jacket now, despite night drawing in, and I was surprised to feel how hot his skin was beneath this flannel. It almost made me flinch, if it wasn't for the fact that I had to do something now before this stranger became flesh coloured jelly on the sidewalk. It didn’t help the situation that passersby were all beginning to stop and watch the scene unfold.
“Dean,” I pleaded, using both hands now to try and pull him away. He growled, a sound that almost made my heart dance.
“This scumbag was about to fucking run off with you,” he turned to me, eyes wide.
“I know, and he didn't - you saved me, Dean, he can't hurt me now. But we need to go, I need to get ho-”
“I should make sure he's dead,” he made to step forward again, but then something unusual happened. I did something that I've never done before, and in all honesty it was as though I had no control over the words that left my lips.
“Alpha,” my voice was firm yet pleading as I tightened my grip on his arm. He froze. “Please. Please Alpha, we need to go.”
He faced me, eyes still wide, but the murderous rage was quickly dissipating. Silence hung between us for a few breaths before he sighed and relaxed enough for me to relinquish my grip on him.
“Ok,” he said, “but we’re making sure you get there safely.”
I'm looking at coming out of my hiatus! A lot has happened, and tbh life has been a bit of a whirlwind... Because of this, I'm also taking a break from writing my book, but I need to keep the creativity flowing. So please feel free to send me prompts or requests for oneshots! I look forward to writing for everyone again!
So, ngl, I didn't think I'd be posting this so soon, but I'm going to be taking a bit of a hiatus. Basically I've been working on my own book, and I'm balls deep in this manuscript and if I stop to write anything else at all, it's never going to get finished. I've had amazing support from my closest people, so I really need to see this through.
But have no fear! The fanfics will continue! Once I find an agent and can hand things over to them, I'll take a break and carry on.
So please be patient with me, my brain doesn't sleep at the moment because it's full of fanfic ideas and original ideas and it's essentially just chaotic mush in my skull at this point.
I'm still adding to taglists and responding to messages/comments etc, I just won't be posting for a bit.
I love you all, and tbh the main reason I've gotten so far with my own book is because you guys made me feel good about my writing, and if/when I eventually get published, my thanks will be aimed at everyone here.
warnings: there’s so many omg 🫢 smut. dubcon. y/n humping deans boot LMAO. knife play and insertion, detailed description of blood, killing, violence etc. dean being really rough with y/n. pet names: bunny, baby, mutt. LOTS of cum. sam hearing y/n and dean cum. dean and sam bullying y/n. swear words. dean pushing y/n past her limits. mentions of 3sum. spanking. bruises. dean skull fucking y/n. dean trying to kill y/n (duhh) dean also alluding to kidnapping y/n. NOT PROOFREAD. there’s probably more but i think those are the major ones. seriously tho, read with caution cuz this is probably one of my darkest fics (for now 😛)
a/n: so..this was supposed to be posted for halloween..so happy halloween!! lmao idk what happened i was too high and my days blended together lol. anyways i hope you guys like it! it’s pretty dark and gross but there’s so many ways i can take this, ahhh my lil brain is so excited >.< EDIT: sorry im stupid i forgot to add this earlier lolz i was imagining like s1-s2 sam and dean when i was writing this so if you find the relationship between them a bit “different” thats why. but feel free to imagine them however !
enjoy! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
sam and dean winchester. most people haven’t heard those names in years. the brothers went on a hunt one night and was never heard of or seen again. everyone assumed they were killed or maybe something worst…well, it’s something worst..
“sam, what’s taking so damn long?” dean frustratedly said after peeking through the curtains again. “relax man, this takes time” sam replied just as frustrated, not bothering to look at his brother and continued his obnoxiously loud typing. he’s currently trying to…actually dean has no fucking idea what sam’s been doing at the computer for the last hour. all he knows is that he’s getting impatient, his hands are trembling slightly, his mind is racing, he can’t think about anything else. he feels like he needs a cigarette but the more he really thinks about it, it’s something else he craves. blood, screams, agony. the feeling of his knife when he drives it hard into someone’s stomach, or neck..or back.. the sounds, the look, the smell. just thinking about it gets his stomach flipping with anticipation.
everyone knows that dean is a killer, even before he actually became a killer. he always had it in him. he could come home completely drenched in someone’s blood and still sleep at night..comfortably. this is like a stress reliever to him. he’s cold, ruthless and doesn’t hold back either. and, he’s not afraid to get messy, in fact, he loves when it gets messy.
sam on the other hand, is too smart for his own good. he thought himself how to hack and code in just under a week, he perfectly plans out their kills and erases all evidence of him and dean, weather that be by deleting surveillance footage or cleaning up the scene after dean is done. wiping away any trace of dna, cleaning up the blood, disposing of the body. so smug with himself about not being on the police’s radar..yet.
“annnnnnd…done” sam shut the laptop, shifting in his seat to face dean. “she’s at 24 hedgedale road. she’s having a little halloween party with a couple of her friends…” sam started before giving dean all the vital details he needs to know, like how many people are in the house, what the target looks like so he kills the right person (he fucked up last time) and any cameras or exits he needs to be aware of. dean nodded, listening but also couldn’t help but get more and more excited, each word sammy spoke means another word less of information and he can finally get going. feeling amped up and starting to pace the room. “dean.” sam spoke and dean popped his head up, his thumb and index finger still tapping against his chin. “make it hurt”
after that dean, wasted no time to get ready, smoking a cigarette before rinsing his face with cold water and quickly taking a few moments to look at himself in the dingy motel mirror. the corners of his lips are dry and cracked, his eye bags are dark and exhausted and his normal light green sparkly eyes are so dark they almost look black, the pretty sparkle is gone and has been for a while.. he looks sick and pale, but he shrugged it off. getting dressed in a pair of black jeans, big black boots and a black hoodie. bringing his knife, mask and leather gloves to put on later.
“meet me on the corner of 6th and jenkins” sam said right before dean was about to get in his car. “yep” dean nodded “and i’ll be in your ear piece if anything goes wrong jus-“ dean rolled his eyes, hearing the same spiel since the past year. he cut him off by slamming the car door shut and starting up the engine. sam would roll his eyes and throw his hands up in the air in defeat and dean would smirk and chuckle as he zoomed off in the impala.
a few minutes later dean would turn on the private channel that sam was waiting in, “hey sammy?”
“dean. are you there?” sam asked almost too eagerly “not yet, almost. but i wanted to ask..why this girl?”
sam would pause for a second, thinking of what to say but instead he tried to change the subject “what, having second thoughts?” he teased which earned a sarcastic chuckle from his brother. “yes i am. after a year of do this shit, this is the time that i’m getting cold feet” dean spoke again after a few seconds of silence. “but for real though, why is she so special? you picked her for a reason, you changed the subject when i first asked about her and you’re so adamant that i do this right..” sam sighed, shaking his head. knowing he can’t get anything passed his brother, he knows him too well and will eventually manipulate it out of him.
“she’s just someone i used to know..”
“all our victims are someone we used to know”
sam let out a heavy sigh, knowing dean won’t let it go and him himself being too tired to fight against it. “shes just a girl…that i fucked a couple times..and, then she got back with her boyfriend” deans eyes narrowed, knowing sam is playing down his feelings towards you, and mostly likely the relationship between you two.
“sam..” dean started, feeling a surge of anger and uncertainty about how personal it is to sam and doubting his feelings towards her. “dean stop. it’s nothing like that-“
“did you love her?”
sam scoffed and let out a frustrated laugh, “of course not.” dean visibly cringed at sam’s lie. normally sam can lie. he can probably lie and manipulate his way out of a murder charge. but he can’t lie to dean. he tries, but dean can always tell. maybe it’s because dean practically raised him..or maybe sam’s a bit intimidated by dean..
“okay sammy, i don’t really care if you did or even still do, is this still gonna happen? ‘cause once she’s dead, she’s dead. there’s no going back, not anymore” he muttered the last part under his breath.
“y-yes, dean. i know.” he sounded more sure of his answer this time but dean still didn’t believe him. he knows some part of sam still has some feelings for you, and that doesn’t make sam 100% sure, which is one of their two rules. sam probably doesn’t even know he has these feelings because they’re masked with hate, anger, betrayal and probably a little heartbreak.
dean took a few moments before responding to sam, thinking up a sick and twisted idea to get sam to admit the truth. “glad we’re on the same page sammy, i’m here.” dean muted the channel and ignored sam’s frustrated comments before parking baby in the designated hidden location, behind some trees that’s located across the house.
stepping out of the car and resting against the hood dean smoked another cigarette, taking his time and enjoying the eeriness of the cold, wet, dark and foggy forest. he put the cigarette out, smushing it between his thumb and a tree, the pain giving him a small jolt of energy and causing a shiver to go down his spine. “sammy?” dean unmuted the channel, “yea, i’m here. you ready?”
“almost..” dean took in a deep breath, taking in the cool air, closing his eyes as he breathed out, flashes of blood and silver reflections coming from his knife ran through his mind. he imagined, almost planned on how he was gonna kill you. he imagined your screams, where’d you’d run, would you fight back? or just give up.. “ready.”
“3..” sam started to count down, dean pulled on his gloves and mask, pulling up his hood also.
“2..” he gripped his knife tight, so tightly that his hands were shaking. he gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. desperately waiting for sam to say..
“1, happy hunting”
dean took off, effortlessly working his way throughout the woods, like he’s done many times before. making his way towards the isolated cabin you and your friends stupidly decided to have a little halloween party in, despite hearing that there’s a killer on the loose. dean watched from outside the window, staying low and hidden in the shadows.
“i don’t know about this..” you admitted to your best friend, feeling apprehensive about wearing such a revealing outfit. “girl. don’t be a prude. boys don’t like that” you opened your mouth to say something but stopped, immediately giving up knowing it’s no use to fight. “all done!” you friend exclaimed and jumped back, taking in her make up job from afar. “so cute! get dressed quickly, we’re missing the party” she whined out leaving the room. taking a quick look in the mirror at your pink painted nose and white whiskers, your eye makeup done in a way that makes your eyes look wide and innocent. not wanting to waste anymore time, you pulled off your oversized shirt and was about to reach for your white dress when you heard a groan. so loud and clear you jumped back and instinctively went to cover your naked body. but when you looked to the window, where you thought you heard the groan from, no one was there. feeling super uncomfortable but brushing it off as you just being kinda spooked out from it being halloween night. regardless, you got dressed as fast as you could and left the room.
“wow sammy, your girls fuckin’ gorgeous” dean admitted almost with hearts in his eyes, now understanding why sam may have some left over feelings for you. how can he not? you’re so pretty, and small, and innocent, and breakable. dean couldn’t help but groan out loud at the sight of your naked body, perfect tits bouncing as you shimmied to pull up your dress, your ass absolutely devouring your thong, the way your thighs pudged in those cute little knee high socks. his cock twitched a bit as he took you in, getting distracted and almost caught by you.
“bad move, getting dressed in front of a window, is she dumb?” dean genuinely asked. “what? dean no..wait, she was naked? you seen her naked?” dean held in a laugh, picturing sam’s face getting all red and flustered with jealousy. “yep, our girl gave me a full show.” dean bit his lip in amusement, waiting for sam to blow up. “i mean, whew, the rack this girl has on her. god! and her ass is so- ugh sammy, you just had’ta be there. her little tattoo right on her-“ sam finally spoke “she doesn’t have a tattoo…” his voice soft and jealousy laced. dean couldn’t help but smirk and sam could hear it on the other end, “well, now she does.”
sam stood silent for a moment, trying to breathe through the anger but.. misplacing it as anger towards you “whatever dean, just..get it done already”
“woah, wait little brother, is that..jealousy i hear in your voice?” dean continued to tease. “wha-no! i just don’t wanna be here all night.”
“sure sammy. ya’know, it’s not to late to say stop…i mean, until it is..” dean said half serious, hinting at sam that if he wants him to stop he should let him know soon before he’s too far gone to control. “got it, can you do your job now?” he brushed him off to which dean shrugged, moving to find another window to watch from. you were standing awkwardly in the kitchen, lightly bobbing your head to the music with a drink in your hand. dean couldn’t help but chuckle out how out of place you look, it’s clear that this is not your scene at all though you put yourself in uncomfortable situations to please other people. it shouldn’t be hard at all to get you outside and alone.
he continued to creep, watching everyone else at the party as well and noticing that’s your friend left with her boyfriend a couple minutes ago and it seems like they’ll be gone a while. leaving you alone and vulnerable and leaving sam an opening to lure you away from the party.
“sam.” dean spoke “it’s time.”
sam immediately got to work, setting up his recordings before calling your phone but hacking it so the caller id shows your best friends name. “hey where are you?” you spoke in the phone, only now realizing that you haven’t seen her in a while. on sam’s end, he’d play an ai recording of your best friends voice “hey, can you come outside? tyler broke up with me” sam hung up, feeling proud of his abilities and tech skills, editing your best friends voice to sound sad and whimpery, even adding in a few sniffles. dean watched as your expression changed from confused to concerned as you immediately left out the front door to find your friend.
“nice sammy. we still good?” dean asked one more time, his eyes not leaving you as you dumbly scanned the trees for your friend. “..y-yeah” he rolled his eyes but continued, lightly following behind you as you hesitatingly entered deeper into the forest, figuring that your friend may be at the make out tree.
about to call out her name but gasping instead as you heard a crunch behind you, whipping around to see a very tall and built figure dressed in black clothes, wearing a mask and holding a knife. the fear paralyzed your body as it took your brain a few seconds to actually register, only reacting when the man launched forward towards you. you dropped to the floor at his feet and begged for your life. “no no! please, please don’t hurt me!” your cried out, your heart was beating out of your chest and your wanted to throw up from how much anxiety burned in your stomach, your hands trembling with fear and tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. “god..-“ dean groaned out at her begging and crying, the harder she cried the harder he got, and her little begs for her life are just so cute and adorable.
“beg again, bunny” the cold metal of the tip of his knife was pressed under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “pl-please don’t hurt me, ill give you anything you want, whatever your want just please-“
“anything i want?” he raised an eyebrow even though she couldn’t see from his mask, but he voice was deep, low and sultry. “ye-yes please! don’t kill me i beg you” you were too busy rambling that you didn’t even know what you were agreeing too. big mistake. “hm..” he hummed in response before tangling his large hand in your hair and dragging you up to your feet, “let’s play a game pretty bunny.” he tapped your nose with the tip of his knife, his grip in your hair still strong. “i’m gonna give you a 60 second head start, if you get away, then you get away…” he shrugged, “but if i catch you, you give me anything i want, deal?” he smacked your ass and backed away. without giving you any time to process he began counting down from 60.
“hop to it white rabbit, times runnin’ out”
before your mind could even comprehend this, your legs ran as fast as they could, hoping to find help or at least somewhere to hid in less then a minute, heart still beating out of your chest so hard it feels like your gonna have a heart attack. trying your absolute hardest to navigate through the trees in the dark, with tear filled eyes.
“dean, what are you doing?” sam spoke through the ear piece, “what’s it look like? i’m playing with my food.” deans voice was laced with hunger and anticipation, “okay but, why? just kill her now” he was slightly annoyed at sam telling him when and how to do his job, so he gave him shitty answer. “she’s hot, and i wanna have some fun first before i gank her. you have a problem with that?”
“no, no..just don’t get carried away y’know? we’re still on a time crunch.”
“don’t worry sammy, we’ll be quick” he smirked and went after you, moving much more faster and swiftly than you, and of course, catching up to you in now time. it’s like you didn’t even try and to be honest, deans kinda disappointed, expecting much more from you. “oh little bunny, did you even try?” he called out, seeing your face twist up in panic and fear before you ran away. he grinned, enjoying the chase a bit too much. adrenaline and bloodlust pumping through his body as he took off again, seeing you resting against a tree in the distance, desperately trying to catch your breath. he hid in the shadows and waited for her guard to come down.
“oh my god, oh my god..” you panicked quietly to yourself, frantically searching your pockets for your phone, and fumbling to call the police. your thumb just about to press the call button, but instead your phone was snatched from your hands and snapped in half right in front of your face. “bad move bunny, we made a deal, remember?” he lifted the knife to her throat, pressing the blade against her delicate skin so she can feel how sharp it is. “i caught you, so you give me anything i want, yeah?” still scared for her life she nodded, hoping that if she agrees with him, he won’t hurt her.
“then kiss me” he removed his mask, dropping it to the ground and still leaving his hood up. “wha..what?” you asked completely confused and scared, looking up into his eyes, not daring to look elsewhere. dean smushed his lips against yours, knife still close to your throat as he tried to deepen the kiss but your lips were stiff and you tried to pull away. a frustrated growl left deans lips as he grabbed a tight fist full of your hair and pressed the knife against your temple, hard enough to cut into your skin and cause blood to drip down your face. “that’s what we fuckin agreed on” he spat through his teeth, small specks of spit flying from his mouth and landing randomly on your face. “i catch you, you give me anything i want. unless you want me to just kill you” unsure of what to do or how to answer, your legs are trembling so much that your be on the floor if you weren’t pinned against this man and a tree. “okay, okay, yes i’m sorry. please i’m sorry” you apologized for resisting, now understanding that he wants someone to listen and obey him. hoping that going down that route will get you out of here alive. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean too please give me another chance” trying your best to sound calm. deans look and grip softened a bit and he moved the knife back to your neck, dragging your head forward and crashing his lips with yours, kissing him back this time with the same amount of hunger. dean biting down on your lip as he pulled away for air, his sharp canines breaking your skin, your swollen bottom lip now bleeding, to which dean happily licked up, sucking on the wound a bit before soothing it over with his tongue.
“good girl, you taste so good” he was slightly breathless when he pulled away, lips all pink and swollen and bloodstained, you actually weren’t sure if he was talking about the taste of your lips or the taste of your blood..and it sent a shiver down your spine, but thankfully you did what he wanted and you’re free to go- “get on your knees” his voice was deep, mean and demanding. you looked up at him with confused and fearful eyes. “b-but you said you’ll let me go if i did anything you want” you protested, not sure where you got the confidence to speak up from. “i didn’t say that” a slight smirk growing on his lips, his hand still tight in your hair and the knife still pressed against your throat. “i said if i catch you, you let me do anything i want. i didn’t say nothin’ about letting you go” his smile was now twisted and sinister. something is clearly very wrong with him, that mixed with his short temper is what makes him so terrifying and unpredictable. “why are you doing this?” you cried out, but still slid down on your knees anyways, sitting between his large legs and looking up at him.
“well..sammy said so” dean said casually, as if that explains anything. “s-sammy?..sam? s-sam winchester?” that’s a name you haven’t heard in almost a year, sam winchester broke your heart. just up and left one night and you’ve never heard of him.. until now. “so what are you? his little henchmen or something?” dean glared down at you, “he picks the person, you kill them? so you just do what he says like a good dog” you snapped back, anger and rage now starting to set it. dean stood silent for a few moments, feeling his hands start to shake from nerves and frustration. he should just kill her, but he’s dying to know what makes her so special. “you like talking huh?” he finally spoke, crouching down to her level, still glaring and his jaw clenching. “let’s see how well you yap with your pretty mouth stuffed.” he spat and stood up again, stretching out to his full height and towering over you. he moved his leg in between yours, his shoe pressing against your crotch and his knee pressing into your chest, trapping you against the tree while he fumbled with his belt and the button on his jeans.
you stood silent, even though you wanted to yell and argue with him. you’ve noticed that the more you fight and disobey, the more your chances of survival goes down. “open your mouth” dean said, pulling his already hard cock from his jeans, pumping himself a few times. you shook your head no and dean groaned out tired and frustrated at your misbehaving. “i said open your fucking mouth” he spat and then actually spit in your face, the glob landing near your mouth on your cheek. “and i said no”
“fine. you wanna do this the hard way and be a stupid fucking brat?” he pinched your nose shut, “good thing i love the hard way.” he pressed the tip of his cock against your tightly closed lips, waiting and anticipating for you to open your mouth and take a breath. you were still stubborn, you know you can’t fight this but you’d rather turn blue in the face then open your mouth for him. “i can do this all night, bunny” he smirked as you started to become desperate for air. his smirk twisting into a grin as he knew you’d open your mouth soon. precum leaked from his tip and smeared across your lips just at the thought of your big mouth stuffed full of his cock.
“fu-!” you finally gasped, unable to hold your breath anymore and feeling so dizzy. dean shoved his cock into your mouth with such force that you hit the back of your head against the tree. roughly pushing all the way in until he bottomed out. you gagged and choked around him, your jaw muscles and lips being stretched out. “ahhh, atta girl” he sighed, tipping his head back and resting in your mouth.
“dean? is it done?” sam spoke through the earpiece, snapping dean out of the enjoyment that is the warmth and softness of your mouth. dean hooked his thumb behind your bottom teeth, gripping and holding your jaw open.
“sammy!” dean exclaimed enthusiastically, “not yet little brother, still got a few more inches to go”
“oh..what?”
“since you want me to spell it out for ya..i got my dick half way down your girls throat” he couldn’t help but end his sentence with a chuckle. absolutely loving the power he has over both you and his brother. “dean, what?! that’s not-what the fuck?!” he continued to laugh at his brothers outburst. “what’s the problem sammy? she had a little mouth on her so, i had to take care of it. besides, it’s not like i’ve never fucked a girl before i killed her” you cried out at the last bit, drool starting to pool and drip down deans thumb.
“no its-.. its just, we don’t have much time, she’s been twenty minutes already..” dean can practically hear sam’s pout as he can hear the choking and gagging noise coming from you in the background. “true. i’ll hurry. but real quick..why didn’t you tell me her mouth felt this good? depending on how her pussy feels i may hold off on killing her for now.”
“just hurry up dean..” sam muted the channel, thinking over deans words and ignoring the jealousy that pumped through his blood. he wondered if dean was just talking or if he’ll actually back out. trying to play out both scenarios in his head and getting mixed feelings about both outcomes. feelings he doesn’t recognize anymore.
“hear that? think your pussy will feel good enough it’s worth sparing your life?” he gave you a look as if he was expecting an answer, “hm?” he raised an eyebrow. “what’s wrong? your mouth was goin’ a hundred miles an hour just a few minutes ago…” his tone was mocking, reaching down to brush a few strands of hair away from your face. the way your makeup was starting to run down your face made his cock twitch against your tongue. “hm, we’ll see” he muttered quietly to himself with a slight shrug, before shifting and spreading his legs a bit wider, his shoe pushing deep into your crotch and you couldn’t help but let out a small whimper at the pressure, starting to feel your wetness seep through your underwear. being too scared for your life to actually notice, but your pussy’s been wet since he started to chase you through the woods, only getting more and more turned on since then. your minds been screaming and thinking up ways to break free and run but, your body has you planted on your knees, looking up at this terrifying man and tasting his pretty cock.
dean applied pressure to your teeth, wanting you to open your mouth as wide as you can. feeling he may break your teeth, you obeyed ignoring the pain and discomfort as he shifted again and gripped the back of your head tightly. “jus relax bunny” he mumbled as he pushed himself deeper, slipping himself down your throat and forming a noticeable bulge. “fuuck that’s so hot” he groaned out and bucked his hips forward, gagging you a bit but quickly regaining your composure and trying your hardest to relax your throat and fight against your gag reflex. he continued to push until your nose met with his pelvis, and then smushed your face against him, wanting all of himself in your mouth and holding you there for a minute before pulling you completely off his cock. immediately gasping for air and coughing, trails of spit and precum still connected your lips to his cock. “got anything you wanna say?” he leaned down bringing his ear to your mouth, taunting you. you glared up at him, wiping away some of the spit with the back of your hand. “fuck y-“ your words got cut off by deans cock down your throat again. he returned his grip on your head and began to skull fuck you, moving your head to match his thrust. “you’re so dumb.” he laughed, “stupid little bunnies like you never learn..don’t open your mouth unless you want it stuffed”
you hummed at his words, the vibrations causing him to let out a deep groan and throw his head back, his thick neck looking pretty in the moonlight.
subconsciously, you’ve started to lightly roll your hips, brushing your clothed clit against the hardened leather of deans boot. small whimpers and eventually moans escaped your lips as you sped up your movements a bit, hoping dean won’t notice.
“fuck bunny, your mouths so good baby. so nice ‘n warm.” he moaned out, and slowed his movements, still moving your head down his length as if your nothing but a pocket pussy for him. “turns you on, huh? having a random guys dick down your throat..is that why your humping my leg like a mutt?” you stopped your movements, your already flushed cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. “i didn’t say stop” he spat, “keep fuckin going” blinking away tears, you started to roll your hips again, going slow and matching his pace. “that’s my good girl..” he groaned out, thrusting back into your mouth. “jus’ keep going, just like that dirty girl.”
you sped up a bit at his encouragement, grinding your clit down on him and moaning around him. for dean, the sight was extremely hot. looking down and seeing you already staring back at him, your teary eyes are big and needy, your mouth is all messy, his hand still deeply tangled in your hair. your hips rocking back and forward desperately, your muffled moans and furrowed brows, not to mention your adorable little white bunny costume. just looking at you like this is enough to make him cum.
“you like that shit? rubbing your slutty little pussy on my boot. feels good, huh mutt?” you choked around him, “wanna cum?” he asked with what you thought was genuineness, but when you nodded eagerly, looking up at him with pleasing eyes, he kicked you away, shoving your body back against the tree. “me first” he pulled you off of him, you taking this opportunity too try to catch your breath as you genuinely don’t know how long it’ll be until you can breathe again. “eyes open, tongue out” he jerked himself in his hand a few times, trying your best to keep eye contact with him, you say there patiently waiting with your tongue out. “gonna make this pretty face all messy” he groaned out before shooting ropes and ropes of thick cum across your face, landing on your nose, your mouth and some in your eye.. deans chest heaved and puffs of cold air left his lips as he squeezed the base of his cock, giving you every last drop of him. “fuck, swallow.” he growled out, you obeyed and swallowed him down, sticking out your tongue again to show him. he smirked down at you one last time and pulled you up by your hair, still keeping you trapped between him and the tree, still not trusting that you won’t run away the second you get an opportunity.
“fuck bunny..” dean grabbed your face, tilting it and examining his artwork. lightly slapping your cheek twice and already getting turned on again at the sight of you covered in his cum. a small whimper left your lips as your eye started to burn and water. dean didn’t actually mean to cum in your eye but, he’d never admit that. instead he played it off, using his thumb to wipe away the cum coating your lid and lashes and pushing it into your mouth. the tangy sweetness covered your tastebuds and you hummed at the taste. “what do you say?” he yanked his thumb away, waiting for an answer. “t-thank you..”
“anytime” he brushed the hair away from your face, tucking it neatly behind your ears. “what’s your name?” maybe it was a dumb question, but your brain is still foggy and this was the first time that popped in your head. he chuckled, a smug look plastered on his face as he raised an eyebrow. “why?” suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed and like you’ve overstepped, you shrugged “nothing. ju-just curious”
pulling the knife from his back pocket, it flashed, reflecting off the moonlight. it doesn’t scare you as much as it did before, now it just mostly excites you. “i’ll spell it out for ya” he crouched down with a smirk, sitting comfortably on his knees and bringing one of your thighs over his broad shoulder. “stay still.” he looked up at you and demanded as if he’s your father, but you nodded, taking a deep breath.
deans fingers looped through the holes of your white fishnets and ripped the fabric open, the only thing separating him from your soaked sweet pussy is the thin fabric of your lace panties. hooking his fingers through the fabric, he easily cut them. and with another flick of his wrist, he cut the waist band, pulling them full off and stuffing them into the back pocket of his jeans. smalls gasps left your lips with every cut and rip he made but still, you stood still. “pretty pussy to match that pretty face” he moaned out, looking up at you and his face being only inches away from where you craved him. he stabbed the knife into the tree. “it’s four letters and you get no hints.” you almost forgot that you were supposed to be guessing his name, your brain completely clouded with anticipation and still fucked out from dean using your mouth like a sex toy. “oh, and no cumming until you guess right.” not leaving any time for you to complaint as he dove right in, licking a long strip up your pussy with a flattened tongue first before writing his name on your clit.
“fuck, you taste so good” he pulled away, chin already soaked and glistening with your sweet juices. “any guesses?” you shook your head no, desperately whining. “i think the last letter is..N?” he smirked, knowing you got it right. “maybe..” he went back in, writing his name three times getting faster with each time, pulling away again but catching your clit between his lips and sucking then letting go with a pop. you moaned out, hands flying to his thick hair. “fuck. again please”
“no, no bunny. make a guess”
“i-i don’t kn-..first letter B?”
his face dropped. “no. focus bunny. use that dumb slut brain of yours” he went back in, you tightening your grip on his hair and moaning out, despite him not even touching you yet. you can feel his smirk against your cunt and he spelled his name again, going from fast to slow and his tongue moving down to your entrance. “well?”
you stammered, unable to come up with an answer, too focused on the pleasure his was giving you, becoming more and more desperate for release. “i-i’m sorry..” he sighed frustratedly. “it’s dean.” he said plainly, genuinely upset that you couldn’t guess. “turn around” he manhandled you, forcibly turning to to face the tree and then pressing his hand into your lower back, making you bend over, your ass and open pussy just inches away from his face. “so dumb, couldn’t guess four letters” he tsked as his hands roamed and explored your ass and thighs, gripping, grabbing and dragging his blunt nails over your hot skin “want this little pussy fucked?” he asked with a hard smack to your ass cheek. “hmm, yes please” you begged and got another hard smack. your body jolted forward and you tightened your grip on the tree. another third slap in the same spot left your ass red, hot and stinging as a bruise already started to form.
dean wedged the knife free from the tree, flipping it in his hand and pressing the cold handle against your entrance. “wait, wait what is it that?” you flinched at the unfamiliar feeling. “my knife, fuck else did you think?” you stood silent too embarrassed to admit what you actually wanted. “what, you thought i was gonna fuck you?” he laughed. “no bunny, dumb bitches like you don’t deserve my cock just yet. besides, i gotta work you open first.. i’ll never fit in here, ‘s so damn tight.” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut and letting dean push the rest of the handle into you, starting to feel the cold metal of the blade poke at your pussy lips. biting your lip to suppress a moan, you arched your back more. dean began to thumb at your clit and he slowly thrusted the knife in and out of you. you clenched around it, really feeling the rough, bumpy uncomfortable shape, struggling to adjust and whining out. “what’s wrong?” dean asked from behind you, sounding sincere but you still feel hesitant to give him an honest answer.. “i don’t.. think it feels good..”
“well, you better make it feel good, cause it’s stayin deep inside you until you’re fucking creaming on it” he threatened and you can’t stop yourself from moaning out at his roughness and dominance. spitting on your clit and rubbing it in rough circles, he angled the blade upwards, fucking the handle into your g spot hard and fast, “still don’t feel good?” he taunted, you being too busy moaning and screaming out, your nails digging into the tree bark. “fuck fuck fuck!”
“hmm” a satisfied groan left dean’s chest as he stopped rubbing your clit for a moment to give your ass another two hard smacks. yelping and clenching each time he hit you, your legs starting to shake as you felt the pleasure build in your lower stomach, “d-dean im close” he growled at the sound of his name coming from your still cum covered lips, his name sounding so satisfying to his brain, tickling an itch he didn’t even know existed. originally, he was planning to to tease you and pull away right before you came, denying you of your second orgasm. but..you just saying his name, made him crumble, the affect it had on him was chemical. and right now he’ll do anything to hear you say it again. “fuck i’m cumming! can i cum please?” you begged, your knees threatening to give out, your pussy throbbing and begging to cum. “fuck bunny.. yeah baby cum for me, cum on the knife your so scared of” the band in your stomach snapped and a wave of pleasure crashed through your body. “say my name” instead, a series of moans, curses and whimpers left your mouth as you clenched down hard and completely drenched deans knife with your juices. “say my fuckin name” he smacked your ass again and fucked his knife harder into your pulsing pussy “ahh-! dean! fuckk” you cried out, your pussy and clit starting to become sensitive. your body starting to squirm and you tried to pull away, but dean quickly wrapped his arm around your thigh, his hand reaching between your legs and his fingers finding their way back to your clit almost instantly. scooting himself forward and tightening he knees around your ankle, holding you down even more. “tsk, where do ya think your goin bunny, i’m not done yet”
“dean please, i can’t..”
“sure ya can, just be a big girl about it”
you whined out, unable to take the torture he’s doing to your over stimulated pussy. “fuck, please dean!” your begged again, still trying to get away but his grip on you is bruising tight. tears streaming down your face as you clawed at the tree, “please, i can’t anymore i’m begging, please dean” that familiar band started to form in your stomach again and you were getting close, you barely have strength to hold yourself up, let alone endure another orgasm like the last. “see bunny, told ya you can take it, you’re almost there!” he cheered, his taunting and bullying going straight to your pussy, clenching down and having yet another body trembling orgasm. “oh my-! dean! fuck fuck fuck yes!”
“ahhh..that’s it, that’s my dirty little girl. fuckin soaking my knife with your slutty pussy. gross” he yanked the handle out of you and loosened his hold on you, your knees immediately giving out cause you to fall forward in front of him, thighs shaking uncontrollably and cum leaking down your legs. “aww poor baby” he pouted, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. “clean this for me” he held the handle to your bottom lip, your brain being so extremely fucked out, it’s now on autopilot and it feels like your drunk. doing what he says, you opened your mouth wide and stuck out your tongue, dean pushing the handle in and out between your plump and swollen lips. “taste good huh?” he asked excitedly, wriggling his eyebrows. blinking slow and nodding, “it’s sweet”
“i know, wish i can just eat your pussy for days. fuck, i wish you guessed my name. was gonna make you cum on my tongue..” he mumbled the last bit, still holding some resentment towards you for being too dumb to guess four letters. he pulled the knife from your mouth “..anyways” he positioned himself behind you, hands gripping your hips and easily lifting you, repositioning you so your in doggy, your hands and knees smushing into a gross mixture of mud and fallen leaves.
he ran a finger down your folds and smirked when you flinched away, still way too sensitive for whatever deans wants next. “tell me bunny, did sam ever fill this pussy up?” he said bluntly, lightly caressing and spreading your ass. “..n-no” your voice came out horse and dry as you felt your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. “i got you” dean gripped your jaw, holding your mouth open and spitting directly into it, “better?” you swallowed, nodding.
“what do you say?”
“thank you.”
“sammy’s gonna be so pissed” he said like an excited little kid, a smug look on his face. almost proud that he’s gonna be the first winchester brother to break you in, despite sam having you first. “dean, i don’t think i can anymore..” you warned, feeling so exhausted and overstimulated, your pussy hurts and your clit aches. “bunny..the fuck makes you think i care?” he chuckled. “stupid” he poked your forehead forcefully. dean pulled his cock from his already unbuttoned jeans, rubbing the tip up and down your pussy and pressing himself into your clit. you whined in anticipation, desperate for his cock even though your on the verge of passing out, you still want to feel him heavy and deep inside you.
once he got his cock wet enough he started to guide his tip in, going slow at first and using his other hand to caress your ass again. the sensitivity and the growing burn of deans thick cock ripping through you was too much to handle “ahh-! dean, it won’t fit..”
“i’ll make it fit.” pushing harder and stretching you out further, soon feeling something pop and dean shoved his entire length inside you, bottoming out and hitting your cervix, buried deep inside you. you gasped, your body jolting forward and your arms giving out underneath you, your face now dirty and covered in mud. dean and you moaned out at the new angle, dean can get even deeper now. “feel that?” he pushed harder against you, his tip pushing hard against your cervix, feeling your uterus start to cramp “that’s where i’m gonna shoot my cum. gonna put it so deep inside this pretty pussy” he groaned, gripping your hips and starting to thrust, his cock ripped through your hole, the burning pain making you squirm and whine out, but dean actually didn’t care. he can see your uncomfortable and not enjoying yourself, but this isn’t about you. it’s about proving sam wrong.
spreading your ass apart more, dean sped up going faster and harder, his balls slapping against your clit. “still so fuckin tight bunny.” he groaned out, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of your hair and bringing you up against his chest, hoping this position would be better for the both of you, it’s kinda starting to get painful for him. “fuck dean!” you breathed out, dean still plowing through you as he snaked his arm around your neck, holding your head in place with a firm headlock and reaching down to rub your clit. “like that bunny?” he muttered against your ear and you nodded. finding it kinda sweet that he was making sure you feel g- “good, then stop your fuckin whining and take it” he gave you two hard and deep thrusts when he said his last two words. clenching down and moaning out, throwing your head back against his shoulder “fuck me, please” dean gripped your body tighter against him, squeezing your neck and head and snapping his hips into your ass. “god, your pussy is so good, so warm and tight.” he groaned in your neck, “feels good having me deep inside you like this, my cock buried in your guts and ruining your tight little hole”
“fuck, yes yes! it feels so good please. keep going!” you babbled, half of your words not even coherent as you were becoming stupid from deans cock. “like that, you cock whore? how ‘bout we get sammy all up in here, ill take your ass and he can enjoy your pussy a bit..if you’re not too stretched out by the time i’m done.” your clenched at his words, your mind now being filled with the fantasy of both dean and sam using you at the same time “wow, you’re gross” he smirked “bet you’d fuckin love that though, me and sam just using you in whatever way we want, abusing and stretching out your slutty holes, making you leak with our cum. or maybe i’ll call a couple of my buddies over and let them take turns with you, watch them fight over your pussy and use you as a cum dumpster.”
his filthy words vibrating throughout your body and finally settling down to your pussy. the thought of all that happening, brang you closer to your third orgasm. your thighs started to shake uncontrollably, feeling your stomach muscles tighten “fuckkkk, i’m gonna cum”
“dean?” sam spoke in deans ear piece, dean smirking wildly to himself as sam couldn’t have picked a better moment to check in. “no, just wait a second bunny” he slowed his rubbing and thrusting and unmuted the call. “sammy!”
“how’s it goin’?”
“ugh, amazing. i can see why you’re so hung up on her”
“wait..you didn’t kill her yet?!”
“what and waste a pussy like this?”
“dean please” your voice was small and your body trembled, having absolutely no strength to hold it any longer. “please let me cum..” he muted the call, ignoring sam’s lecture
“do me a favour bunny. cum hard for me and let sam hear how good i’ve making you feel” he demanded in a low voice and hit unmute again, “actually sam, she’s about to cum, hear this”
“scream his name, baby” he mumbled quietly and finally, with his permission you released. squeezing down hard and cumming all over deans cock. ignoring how uncomfortable his request makes you feel, you screamed out. “yes yes yes, dean! sam-sammy, fuck!” you cried out, loudly as you shook, dean still holding you up and fucking you hard through your orgasm as you continued to call out his brothers name.
sam heard everything, getting super pissed off and jealous and so horny at the sounds of you cumming and screaming out his name, and intimate memories of your short relationship flashed through his head. memories of him folding you up like a pretzel and fucking you deep, bruising your cervix and you screaming out his name, pushing your knees into your chest to get more deeper.
“fuck..” sam groaned out, only now realizing just how much he misses you, his cock twitching at every little sound you made. “dean..” he started to speak after a few moments of silence but was cut off. “who’s pussy is this?”
“it’s yours!” you screamed out, your pussy still fluttering around him as you tried desperately to catch your breath.
“fuckin right it is. remember where i told you i was gonna cum?” you nodded “yes, i remember..please give it to me. please fill my pussy” you begged to him, both of you not caring that sam is hearing all of this. dean released his grip on you, pushing you back down, and holding your head down back in the mud. “dean, don’t you fucking dare” sam warned his brother, teeth gritting and his face getting red and angry. “don’t fucking-“
“one second sammy, i’m about to cum in your girls pussy.” he cut him off again, bringing his full focus on giving you every last drop of him. “fuck..fuckk” he groaned out, speeding up and ramming his dick inside you. bruising your hips when he felt his cock twitch, and with one last hard thrust, he pushed himself against your cervix “fuck, i’m cumming” he threw his head back and painted every inch of your insides with his cum, shooting load after load and filling you up so perfectly “god, you look so pretty when you full of me” he growled. “pussy’s all messy drippy” he slowly started to fuck you again, fucking his cum in you as deep as he can. “dean, what the fuck!” sam yelled, absolutely furious now.
“what’s the problem? i thought you didn’t care about her, you just wanted me to kill her, yeah?”
“no. yes. i don’t care- i-i-don’t know..”
dean couldn’t help but laugh, sam being just as confused as you, thinking that you’d be spared and free to go once dean was done with you but it seems like it’s up to sam now.
“yes..no..? just pick one”
“..d-don’t touch her” finally, he admitted. still clearly having some feelings towards you judging by the reaction he had to dean ruining and making a complete mess out of you.
“ok good, cause she said she’s down for a three some”
“..wait really?” sam’s voice perked up and your whipped your head around to look at dean with fearful eyes, not thinking he was serious when he mentioned sharing you with sam, it was a struggle to just take dean, and you can’t imagine how painful it’ll be with both brothers.
“yep, she also said she’s down to get passed around by our friends and be used as a cum dumpster. her words not mine” you shook your head no, him clearly lying to sam. he only smirked in response and gave you another hard thrust before pulling out of you and plugging your hole with the handle of his knife again. not wanting a single drop of him to leak out. shoving his softening cock back in pants, he stood up, just leaving you on the floor, dirty, sweaty and trembling and covered in mud and cum.
“dean, we have no friends..”
“yeah, but she don’t know that.”
“so..how was it?” sam asked kinda awkwardly, wanting to live vicariously through dean wishing so hard he was him fucking you instead. “she’s a little dumb and so gross sometimes..she humped my leg like a fuckin mutt” he laughed out and sam joined him, knowing that you have a bit of a problem. his mind going back to the times caught you humping his pillow, or begging him to let you ride his thigh. “but her pussy is so good, man” he’s talking about you as if your not on the ground at his feet, on the verge of passing out in woods. “tastes fuckin amazing too.”
“right?” sam agreed and there was a short silence as dean looked over you, “so we’re not killing her?”
“..no, don’t touch her dean. promise me” sam almost begged, knowing how brutal and ruthless his brother can be. he used the second rule they made for themselves, meaning that your off limits, dean is not allowed to harm or kill you, as a promise he would make to sam. “don’t worry sammy, we’re on the same page. promise.” knowing sam won’t relax until he heard that last word.
“what now..?”
“well..” dean thought for a moment, never actually being in a situation like this before. there was only a few times he done this and they all ended with dean killing them.
“can we just..keep her?”
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summary: y/n gets hurt by her shit ass ex and dean takes it upon himself to take her pain away
word count: 6.6k not sorry
warnings: god there’s a bunch. smut. blood (descriptions and tasting) (?). knife play. dean being an asshole n a demon obvi. forced oral (m receiving) multiple orgasms. dean calling y/n a cum slut lol. spelling & grammar mistakes probably a lot more warnings just read with caution it’s pretty fucked lmao
a/n: ok so..this is a thing now. lmao this is soooo much worse then all yours! jensen.
insp by this song 👇🏼
enjoy! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
“excuse-excuse me!” you rolled your eyes at getting ignored again by the bartender who looks too young to even be serving alcohol. annoyed, you checked your phone again, kinda hoping for a text or missed call from your ex.
the smell of cologne and cigarette smoke filled your nostrils as you heard heavy footsteps beside you, a tall and insanely attractive man dressed in a leather jacket over a red button up pulled out the bar stool one over from yours and took a sit.
“what can i get you?” the bartender immediately came over and smiled sweetly at him, arching her back so her tits are practically in his face. he smirked, licking over his teeth as he glanced down at her tits for a second “whiskey, make it a double” he leaned back and watched as the bartender quickly poured his drink, sliding it over to him and he quickly downed it, knocking twice and sliding his glass back over. you watched in amusement as the bartender happily poured him another drink and even stayed to talk with him, despite being yelled at by other customers wanting a refill. he downed the second drink and knocked again.
“you might wanna slow down there” she chuckled but still poured him another drink. “and why’s that?” he raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, his voice deep and rough but also flirty and playful. “three doubles back to back? that’s gonna catch up to ya” he chuckled and shook his head. taking a quick second to read her name tag. “well tiff, to put it simply” he swayed his head side to side, “i’m big” he shrugged and you could’ve sworn tiff just came in her panties right then and there. “takes a lot to get me drunk. why you so concerned for?”
“well, maybe ‘cause i get off an hour and i don’t want you passin out on me” she twirled her hair winking, “don’t worry about me sweetheart, i’ll be here” he winked back and tiff finally left to go deal with the other customers. you rolled your eyes again at what you just witnessed. are all guys really the same? just horny assholes with no care for other people’s feelings?
“problem darlin?” he turned to you, a smug smirk still on his face as he eyes you up and down. “i’m not interested” you ignored him, not even looking at him even though you feel his eyes burning into you, feeling extremely self conscious and flustered. “i didn’t ask if you wanna fuck, i asked if you have a problem” your eyes widened as his bluntness, “l-look im sorry im just- i” you stammered and stuttered unsure of what to say as he just laughed at you. “relax, speak your mind. i can handle it” he waited patiently for your words and you sighed knowing that you can’t get out of this. “i..think it’s gross how you talk and treat women. like we’re just these sex objects for you to enjoy whenever you please, you just wanna take us to bed to fuck and forget about us. i mean do you men even have feelings at all? or are you all just some heartless shells of a person” dean paused for a few seconds, taking in your rant and analyzing your words. laughing at the last bit because of..well the obvious.
“i’m sensing break up” he pointed, excited and waiting for you to confirm his theory. “wha-how did you know?”
“when did you guys break up?” he ignored your question and asked his own, his smirk still wide on his face. “you checked the time on your phone. “an hour ago..” you admitted shyly, unsure why your even telling this random man your personal business and going on ‘i hate men’ rants. but something about his charm and charisma makes you wanna be open and fully honest with him. “lucky me” he muttered but still loud enough for you to hear. he downed his forth drink and reached to remove the empty stool between you, then grabbing your stool and dragged you across the floor, closer to him. right between his out stretched thighs.
“here’s a little tip..” he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “this may be hard for you to understand but just bare with me..if you’re nice to people, they’re usually nice back” you pouted at this random guy basically calling you dumb and rude. “just watch” he knocked twice and smiled at tiff who came running with the whiskey bottle. “actually baby, make that two doubles. we’re celebrating” tiff’s face dropped when she noticed how close the two of you are. “oh” she pouted but still poured the drinks, the man handing her a five dollar note and taking the bottle from her hands. “thanks sweetheart”
“so hater, you got a name?” he handed you your drink, “y/n” you stuck your hand out for him to shake but instead he turned it and placed a gentle kiss on the top of your hand. “pretty name for a pretty girl.” you blushed at his compliment, feeling even more nervous. “im dean.” he clicked your glass with his and down his drink, you did the same, the liquid immediately burning your throat as you couldn’t help but cough a bit. dean’s eyebrows raised at your reaction as he filled your glass again, nodding his head, wanting you to drink it. you obeyed, already feeling buzzed as the pina colada you were sipping on didn’t do much for you alcohol wise. “good girl” he smiled watching as you did what he said with no resistance or hesitation, a spark of excitement surging through his body as he wondered all the other ways you would obey his commands. “so, this better be good. i have to pour my own drinks now because of you” you rolled his eyes at his entitlement, still unsure why your still here talking to him as you clearly hate guys like this. cocky, sarcastic, full of themselves..but you stay sat between his muscular thighs, even turning your body so your now fully facing him. “it’s a long story..but i just found out my boyfriend of two years has been sleeping with my best friend for a year, and when i confronted him about it, he threw me out. it’s like, he didn’t even try to deny it. it’s like he was waiting to get caught.” dean’s expression soften as you poured your feelings out to him. now fully understanding your little rant from earlier and your distaste in his flirting with the bartender. “can i be honest?” dean asked, he was gonna be brutally honest regardless of your answer. “i think your boyfriends bitch.” you burst out laughing, not expecting that but couldn’t help but nod in agreement “he had a drop dead gorgeous girl, a fuckin dime piece, and he fucked it up. sounds like a bitch move” he shrugged trying to hide his smirk at your blushing and flustered face. “fuck him, and your slutty best friend. i know id be losing my mind if i lost a girl like you”
“stop” you giggled, “you’re just saying that to make me feel better”
“maybe…” he joked, with a small chuckle. “but y’know what they say. one man’s loss is a another man’s victory”
“oh really?” you replied sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at his forwardness “and who exactly is ‘they’?”
“me” he poured the both of you another drink, “so, what do you fill the hole with”
you looked up at him confused, unsure if he’s making a innuendo or starting a joke. “excuse me?”
“what do you fill the hole with? drugs, alcohol..” he leaned down and whispered in your ear his voice low and husky, “..or sex?”
-
“what about tiff?” you asked in between desperate kisses and the both of you undressing each other. “who?” dean smirked, crashing his lips to yours after pulling off your shirt, a trail of the rest of your clothes leading to the motel bed where dean practically threw you, climbing on top of you, still kissing you deeply as he bit down on your bottom lip, the both of you tasting blood.
“d-dean” you pulled away for a second, his body still heavy on top of yours. “i-maybe this isn’t a good idea.” dean thought for a second “why?” you sighed, feeling really horrible for what your about to say. “you know i’m, like, using you, right? to get my mind off..y’know..”
“wait what? so you don’t love me?” he replied sarcastically and chuckled when you rolled your eyes. “you think i don’t know that sweetheart? what exactly do you think i’m doing here?” you stay dumbfounded for a second. “i’d love to be your distraction baby girl. it’s kinda hot.” he started to kiss at your neck. “i wanna make you feel good. the way a real man should.” he sucked in the skin, biting and leaving a noticeable mark before flicking his tongue over it. “let me fuck away the pain” he mumbled against your throat, his head going to the other side of your neck leaving more marks and kisses, biting and sucking at your sensitive spots. “just relax baby, i’ll make you feel so good, i’ll fuck him right outta that pretty little head of yours” you let out a soft moan at his words, feeling your body temperature rise and your underwear soaked.
believing him that his not just bragging and actually will fuck you so good that you forget all about your ex. you nodded as he continued to decorate your soft pretty neck with love bites. “dean..” you moaned out, unable to take the teasing. “shh” he continued his kisses down. his hand reaching around your back to unclasp your bra, he pulled it off of you, groaning lightly at the sight of your perfect tits. “you really are beautiful” he murmured, it sounded like he was making more of a statement rather then giving you a compliment, still you blushed. he continued his kisses, taking his time and trailing down to your collarbone, making them match your neck. “can’t wait to make you all messy and desperate” his words are so rough and filthy but his touch and kisses are so gentle, treating you as if you’re a soft and delicate flower.
“tell me what he did” you froze, being caught completely off guard. “tell me how bad he hurt you” he moved his kisses down to your tits, marking your thin skin all over and lightly licking and sucking your sensitive bud while his large head played with the other one. “i’m waitin” dean peeked up at you, you now fully realizing how serious he is, you cleaned your throat, trying to suppress your moans and ignore his skilled tongue flicking over your nipple. “i-it made me sad…and angry”
“hmm” he hummed against you, the vibrations causing you to moan out. you continued, “..and it hurt me. he promised he wouldn’t hurt me like the last guy, i’m angry ‘cause i believed him and im sad because i loved him…” you trailed off, your eyes started to water has you felt the pain of your heart breaking. why are you telling him all this? you just met him twenty minutes ago but you feel so compelled to listen and obey his demands. to do exactly what he says as soon as he says it. to not question him. to be good and obedient for him.
“aww baby” he pouted, softly trailing his fingers up to your face to wipe away your tears. “show me where it hurts” he stood up on his knees, waiting for your answer. you whined a bit at the lost of his touch and lips but genuinely thought on where it hurts the most. “my heart and..” you pointed to your chest, where your heart is and then trailed your finger down to your pussy, resting on your mound. you ached for him, you needed him. your pussy actually hurt from how much you yearned for him. deans eyes narrowed, climbing on top of you again and kissed your chest, over your heart. he’d suck a hickey and then soothe it over with his tongue, placing a few more kisses over the area before picking up his head “better?” you nodded, actually starting to feel better, or maybe you’re just distracted from the big beautiful man on top of you. he’d drag his tongue down slow, over your tit and down your stomach, catching the hem of your panties with his teeth and dragging them down also. his hands on your knees and prying your legs apart audibly groaning out at the sight, a wet pretty pussy all needy and ready to get fucked. “it hurts here too, yeah?” he rubbed his fingers up and down your slit. “y-yes, hurts so bad” you mumbled out in between moans, his rough finger tips finding your clit and rubbing small circles.
he’d lean down, licking a long strip up your pussy and then giving your clit a soft kiss, looking up at you through his lashes to see the pretty faces your making. “f-uck” you moaned out. a smirk stretched his lips as he flashed his blacked out eyes at you, surprisingly, you’d moan out again, your stomach twisting with excitement and anticipation. “still hurts?” you nodded eagerly, desperately wanting to get fucked. dean would chuckle at your neediness, finding it extremely arousing how he barely even touched you yet and you’re already a whiny stupid mess.
he gripped your thighs tightly, keeping them apart as he dived in, placing more kisses on every inch of you, nibbling on your inner thigh and leaving a couple hickeys there too. then without warning, his lips would latch onto your clit, sucking in the bud as his tongue flicked back and forward so fast it felt like it was vibrating. your hands flew to his hair, tugging on light brown tuffs and digging your nails into his scalp as you screamed out. “oh fuck! yes yes yes!”
dean couldn’t help but laugh out against you. really, he barely started and you’re already screaming. he’s so amused at how easily you broke, he didn’t have to try at all. you must be so needy. still licking and sucking he moved down to your entrance, circling it a bit before plunging his tongue in. “oh my god!” your back arched and you moaned out. “not god baby girl…” he pulled away for a second to speak, his lips plump and chin wet and glistening with your juices. “dean” he reminded you looking down at you, his finger tip circling your hole as he spoke “let me hear you say it” you swallowed the lump in your throat, your pussy clenched around nothing. “dean..” you muttered out. “good girl” he groaned, shoving two thick fingers in your pussy, curling them against your g spot before thrusting them in and out. “don’t forget it.” he warned, his face and tone dead serious, “okay, okay” you breathed out, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut.
“say it” his fingers feel fucking amazing, so thick and long and skilled. every move he makes is deliberate to cause you the most amount of pleasure, he’d curl his fingers and thrust against your g spot then he’d switch and fuck them deep into you, fingertips brushing against your cervix. “fuck, dean” you moaned, crying out his name. “atta girl. keep going” he dip his head down again, going back to licking and sucking your clit while simultaneously fucking your tight hole. “god, baby. taste so fuckin’ good” he growled against your clit, the vibrations making you squirm. “ahh-! dean!” every time you moaned you said his name, just like he demanded you do. “my name sounds so good coming from that pretty mouth” his words went straight to your pussy and you subconsciously started to move your hips, grinding your cunt against his face. feeling him smirk against you, he gripped your thigh holding it open and back so he can have as much room as possible as he pushed his face against you and flattened his tongue, letting you use him to get yourself off.
dean doesn’t normally let this happen, but you doing it out of desperation and just using him the way you need is sooo fucking hot to him. his cock now fully hard as he started to grind his own hips into the mattress.
“fuck, dean- i’m- fuck fuck!”
“i know baby, not yet”
you whined out at being denied your desperately needed orgasm, but you clenched down on his fingers and tried to regulate your breathing, thinking of anything and everything to distract yourself from the sinister man that’s devouring your pussy..but it’s very difficult, especially when he sped up his fingers and started to suck on your clit again. fuck “dean please!” you begged. “no. don’t matter how much you beg, i said not yet”
the pleasure in your lower stomach started to hurt as you tried your hardest not to cum, dean’s actions starting to feel like torture “can’t get enough of you, you taste so fucking good” he lightly bit down on your clit, pulling it between his teeth before diving in again, shaking his head from side to side to get as deep as possible. “you wanna cum?” you nodded eagerly with pleading eyes. “yes, yes please. wanna cum so bad dean please” you were practically crying now. “you wanna cum so bad?” dean mocked, his dark eyes playful as he made light of the mess you were. “bet you fuckin do”
he stared you down for a moment, eyes grazing over your naked and sweaty body and his hand reaching up to grab and squeeze your tit. his eyes flicked to your mouth and just something about the way you bit your bottom lip and then licked it made his cock twitch. “cum for me pretty girl”he demanded and you finally let the band in your stomach snap. an intense wave of pleasure crashed over your entire body as you shook and trembled, deans grip firm as he continued to finger and lick your pussy, working you through your high. “oh fuck! yes yes- dean! oh my- dean, yes yes yes!” you rambled as you came, completely soaking his lips and chin. he drank all of you, his tongue lapping against you and his lips slurping your juice, completely obsessed with the way you taste. he could easily sit here and eat you out for hours, but right now he wants to shove his cock down your throat.
he continued to drink you down from your high, your body still trembling, lids half closed, pants and small whimpers escaped your bitten lips as dean finally stopped and looked over you. your fucked out face making his cock twitch and he couldn’t control himself anymore. pulling his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, he climbed over you, straddling your chest and pinning your arms by your sides with his legs. after pumping himself a few times, he slapped his tip on your bottom lip, telling you to open your mouth but instead you shook your head no. a trailed of precum connecting your lips to deans cock. he raised an surprised eyebrow at you, not expecting you to say no.
you didn’t realize how big dean actually is and to be honest, it made you nervous. especially since you have a really bad gag reflex, and not much experience.
“open your mouth” he gritted through his teeth, already getting frustrated with you. feeling nervous at his reaction and getting to embarrass to try to explain, you shook your head again, looking up at him with pleading eyes. a smug look washed across his face as he’s now angry. nobody ever told him no before, he’s annoyed but he also kinda likes it. how bold and confident you are to even dare to tell him no, and he’s finds it absolutely adorable now you think he’ll listen. he large hand gripped your jaw tightly, digging his fingers in your cheeks to pry your mouth open. “i don’t like repeating myself baby girl.” he warned but you still refused to listen. “open your fucking mouth” he spat on you, his spit landing on your cheek near your eye and you gasped. dean quickly took this opportunity and shoved his dick in your open mouth. “fuuck, feels fuckin’ amazin’” his hand still tightly gripping your jaw, he scooped the spit up with his fingers and smeared it around your lips as he pushed himself deep in, already starting to feeling your eyes water and your gag reflex acting up. “be a good girl and let me fuck that pretty mouth, yeah?” he moved his other hand to grab a tight fistful of your hair. holding the top and bottom of your head still as he continued to work his way into your mouth. “gonna take it all” he mumbled out, staring at your lips, loving how pretty they look wrapped around him.
there was nothing you can really do except take it. he’s literally on top of you trapping your hands down and tightly holding your head. he kept pushing and pushing until he the back of your throat causing you to gag and cough around him. “fuck, do that again” he bucked his hips slightly, making you gag and cough even harder. he’d let out a sick and twisted groan at the feeling of your throat contracting around him and the fact that you’re struggling so much and he’s barely half way in. “ready baby?” with your mouth full you looked at him with panicked and pleading eyes. “aw baby.” he frowned and leaned in closer to you. “begging will only make it worse”
he pushed himself all the way in. feeling your throat burn and stretch you tried not to gag and instead swallowed and tried your best to calm down, trying to make the best of it but also hoping he’ll let you breathe soon. as if he can read your mind, he pinched your nose shut, completely blocking both of your airways. shoving the last inch into your mouth and smashing his pelvis against your face. “fuu-ck” he let out a deep and guttural groan from his chest, the vibrations going through his entire body. he moved his hand to your throat, feeling it budge from how full it is and he let out another moan. deans having a bit too much fun with this, while you’re still struggling but starting to like it. the sounds and faces he’s making just from your mouth is turning you on a bit.
after a few more seconds, dean simultaneously let go of your nose and full pulled out of your throat, you immediately coughing and gasping for air as trails of spit and saliva covered his cock and connected the both of you. “dean-“ you got cut off by his dick in your mouth again, one hand still gripping your neck and the other going back to tangle in your messy hair, holding your head still he he started to fuck your throat, pushing more then half of him in before pulling back so just his tip is in your mouth. “so tight, so pretty. fuck” he grunted with each hard thrust. trying again to relax your throat and gag reflex as you let him use you. “god, you’re gonna make me cum” he threw his head back, removing his hand from your throat and collecting some of the drool pouring from your mouth and using it to rub circles on your clit, moaning around his cock he groaned out. “that’s it baby, let me hear you” he plunged his fingers deep inside, curling them against your g spot and fucking upwards. you squirmed and moaned and whimpered underneath him. your sounds vibrating off your tongue and onto him made him go crazy, now bucking his hips and tightening his grip on your hair, his movements became sloppy and staggered as he felt himself close. his lower stomach flexing, veins bulging and a slight shine started to cover his chest and back. “fuck, fuck..baby girl fuuuck” he groaned and panted. his sounds so deep and guttural and going straight to your pussy, making you cum on his fingers, you don’t even know if he was just playing with your pussy to make you moan around him or he was actually trying to make you cum again. either way you’re not complaining.
“f-uck” he bit his lip, trying not to cum too, having to look away from your face for a couple seconds to regain his composure. he finger fucked you through your high and the second you were done he pulled himself out of your mouth and gripped your jaw, keeping your mouth open as he jerked himself off. “keep that pretty fucking mouth open. your gonna take every fucking drop, do you understand?” he gritted and you nodded, sticking out your tongue and gazing into his eyes with innocent and yearning ones. “yeah, that’s a good little girl” his voice slightly cracked at the last word as he continued to pump himself, throwing his head back and letting out a series of groans, grunts and curse words. cumming all over your tongue, face and chest almost completely soaking you from just how much he came. “so pretty when you’re covered in my cum.” he said after a few seconds, taking two of his fingers and pushing the cum that landed on your cheek inside your mouth. “swallow it, cum slut” you happily obliged, sucking his fingers as you just did to his cock, tasting the sweet tanginess of both you and him. humming around his fingers enjoying and savouring the taste before he forcefully removed his fingers and finally got off of you. your hand immediately going to push more of his cum into your mouth, already missing his taste. “so good…” you moaned out. deans still hard cock twitched. “you love it baby? you love tasting my cum huh?” you nodded, still licking your fingers. your head is empty, not thoughts except for dean and his cock. you wanna please him, you want him to cover you in his cum, you want him so bad. you need him. your body and pussy beg for him. “turn over” he demanded as if you were a dog in training, you did as he said, laying on your stomach. dean shifted behind you and straddled your thighs, big rough hands immediately going for your ass. grabbing and squeezing it, pulling your cheeks apart to expose your pussy, dean spit directly on your hole and then smacked your ass hard, amused at the way it jiggled. he did it again, you yelled out in pain as a red hot mark started to form on your sensitive skin. one more hard slap, harder then the other two and you could feel the bruise starting to form.
“gonna fuck this little slutty pussy” he muttered to himself and spread your cheeks apart again, his spit moistened your pussy and is now dripping down to your clit, he spread it around more by running the head of his cock up and down your whole pussy. your stomach twisted and turned in excitement and anticipation and you wondered when or if he’ll shove his cock in, your pussy now starting to ache for him again. “gonna be a good cum slut and take my cock?” he asked. “y-yes i’ll be good” you practically begged, sounding so fucked out and pathetic and desperate “you’ll be a good what?” he positioned himself at your entrance, pulling your cheeks apart as far as they can go, the cold air hitting your exposed holes and making you clench around nothing. “i’ll-i’ll be a good cum slut. i promise just please dean..” you whined, not caring that you sound desperate and dumb. dean likes it. he chuckled behind you before pushing himself all the way in, him groaning at bottoming out and you whimpering in pain as he stretched you out. your pussy walls clinging onto his cock. “hurts baby?” he asked sympathetically “yeah..a little bit” you admited, slightly shy and slightly taken back at him being so nice and caring again. “good.” oh. “guessing what’s his name wasn’t as big as me. figured” he shrugged with a smug and amused look on his face. you actually forgot about him until dean mentioned it. “no.. he wasn’t” you confirmed his suspicion. “i know. you’re so tight it’s like fucking a virgin.” he laughed out. “you gonna bleed for me?” you stood silent unsure on how to answer that, not even sure if you’ll bleed or not. “yes? no?” he asked wanting for an answer and pushed his hips into yours pushing against your cervix and you let out a small gasp. “i-i don’t know!” he pulled out all the way before slamming back into you, your body jolting and tensing. “gonna make you bleed on my cock while i fuck this little pussy open.” digging his blunt nails into your ass he begs me to thrust his hips at the hard but regular pace, fucking you deep and pushing against your cervix with every thrust.
the pain and pleasure fought for dominance over your body as you let out small whimpers, winces and moans “ah! fuck, dean!”
“good baby, tell me how good it hurts” he bucked his hips and sped up, you started to feel a lot wetter then normal and panic started to thump in your heart. “made you bleed by the way” his voice was deep and laced with amusement and pride. he’s sick, so sick and twisted. what normal person likes this- you moaned out at the thought of him being so big and fucking you so rough that you actually bled as if you’re a virgin getting fucked for the first time. unknowingly to you, dean reached down, scooping the mix of blood and pussy juice with his finger and placing it in his mouth, sucking his finger clean and letting the sweet tangy metallic taste coat his taste buds, humming to himself and getting to taste you again. his eyes flashing black for a quick moment, as leaned forward and pushed down on your lower back, ramming his hips harshly into yours, fucking your still tight pussy hard deep and fast, his head smashing against your cervix. “fuck, such a tight lil’ thing. squeezin’ me so tight, it’s practically begging me to cum huh?” fuck yes. “want me to fill this little pussy up?” you nodded cursing out. “fuck, yes please. please fill me up, i want that so bad please please!” you salivated at the thought of dean dumping load after load into you, using you as his own personal cum dumpster. his cum slut
starting to feel all the pleasure grow in your lower stomach, you panted, your moans becoming more breathier. dean licked his thumb and pushed it into your untouched asshole. “ahh-! fuck” you exclaimed, feeling so full now you can cum any second but not without deans permission first.
“fuck, fuck. please harder!” you begged “my cock or my thumb baby. be specific, i’ve got both your little holes filled up.” squeezing your eyes shut and hating his mocking tone. “both please, harder” deans smirk grew as he knew he broke you. he happily obliged, snapping his hips harder against your ass and spitting on your hole, fucking it in you and using it as lube to finger fuck you harder. “dean, yes yes yes! fuck, i’m-“
“cum baby, make that little pussy squeeze ‘round me” he cut you off, continuing his pace and keeping up with his force. you squeezed around him, like he told you to do but the second you did that, you whole body shook and your pussy walls fluttered around him as your orgasm crashed through your body, screaming and crying out his name as he fucked you hard through your high. you fisted the sheets as you felt like your whole nervous system vibrate. this is the hardest you’ve ever came before, it’s so overwhelming that you couldn’t help but cry, hot tears streaming down your face as you hid in the pillow, still cumming. “fuck, are you crying? that’s so hot” he grunted, feeling his own cock twitch at the sight of your tears and your small body shaking as you sob. this is what pushes him over the edge, and it’s not surprising.
the coil in his toned stomach snapping, his eyes turned black again as he let out a loud groan and a series of filthy curse words left his pretty lips as he poured into you. painting your walls and cervix with his sweet creamy cum, filling you up so much that it’s actually already spurting out of you despite him still being balls deep in you.
“fuck fuck! my fucking cum slut you fucking love this don’t you” he grunted out, smacking your ass again. hard. “look at me” he pulled out and got off you to let you turn around and once he did, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, feeling himself starting to get hard again. you’re so fucked out and pretty, covered in his mouth shaped hickeys and bite marks, covered in his cum, filled with his cum and covered with his and your spit. you’re fucked out face and trembling body making you look so pretty that dean doesn’t wanna stop. he could and wants to go for hours but you’re already half asleep and still crying. least he can do is give you a couple minutes break, so he huffed out and ran both his hands through his messy and sweaty hair. “you’re probably gonna go back to him” he stated, taking you off guard but having absolutely no energy to tell him otherwise. “girls like you always go back..” now feeling a bit offended. girls like you? you pouted your bottom lip. “i-i won’t” was all you could say, even though it didn’t sound very convincing. he chuckled and reached and brushed the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “i know a way to make sure you won’t” he mumbled before crashing his lips with yours.
while he was distracting you, he reached over in his nightstand drawer and pulled out a pocket knife, flicking it open. “you trust me?” he pulled away to ask. you gulped feeling nervous but also excited and turned on, you nodded, “i trust you” dean bit his lip, holding back a smile. “you shouldn’t”
shifting his position and settling between your legs, propping up one leg while your other one was straight and tucked firmly under his arm. “stay still” he instructed, pushing two fingers back in your pussy and thrusting them at a deep but slow pace, his fingers getting coated with his cum that he shot inside you just moments ago. your breathing picking up into pants and small whimpers “fuck dean, feels so good”
still fingering you slow, he held the knife like a pencil, pressing the tip against the skin on your hip until it started to bleed. you winced a bit at the pain, sucking in a sharp breath. he dragged the knife down a bit, and then went over it again and again until there was a prominent cut in your hip. it was painful, and kinda nauseating to see but also exciting. your stomach doing flips and twists in anticipation, your pussy getting wetter and wetter with every cut he made, as the pain soon turned into pleasure. “those hickeys” he started, glancing up at you for a second before continuing to carve into your body. “they’ll go away..but this” he paused to chuckle, enjoying and indulging in his sadistic side, kinda taken back on how you’re so okay with this, more then okay actually, it’s turning you on and he can tell. “this is permanent baby girl. that way everyone will know you belong to me. right?”
“ye-yes. right” you wasted no time to confirm. “and your body belongs to me?” he’d make another new cut, blood now dripping down the side and soaking into the bedsheets. “yes, i belong to you.” the smell of metallic filled the room as he continued, still fingering you and bringing you closer to your 4th orgasm that night. “and this pretty little pussy belongs to me too.” his tone made it sound more like a fact then a question but still, you said “y-yes..fuck.. yes my pussy belongs to you.” in between moans, trying so hard to stay still, your body’s nervous system completely fucked as you receive equal parts of pain and pleasure. your body confused on if it should relax and indulge in the feeling of deans thick fingers working your fucked out pussy or tense and squirm at the cold tip of his knife carving into your hot skin. “so..it wouldn’t be a problem that i carving my initials into your skin?” your eyes widened as you scanned his face for any once of a lie. a smirk, an eye twitch, anything. but instead, he stared down back at you, showing you just how serious he is. you had thought he was just cutting you, keeping you on a seesaw of pain and pleasure. “i-i..” completely at a loss for words you stuttered, unable to wrap your head around the fact that the man you met just a couple hours ago is fully permanently carving his initials into your hip.
dean ignored your dumbfounded look and went back to fingering and carving you. almost done..with both. the anger and confusion soon melted from your mind and was replaced with a desperate need to cum on his fingers again. the more he sliced into you, the tighter your pussy clamped around him. “gonna cum again?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and a smug, cocky look on his face. “y-yeah, i’m close” you admitted shyly, realizing you have absolutely no self worth or respect for yourself to try to put a stop to this. i mean, dean won’t listen to you but you could at least try.
finishing up the last letter, he stabbed the knife into the mattress, and swiped over your fresh wound with his thumb. curling his fingers upwards and thrusting them faster, he leaned down and lapped up the blood with his tongue. clearing up enough blood so you can finally see his master piece “D.W” right on your left hip, the cuts definitely deep enough to permanently scar you. dean also took a few seconds to examine his work, feeling impressed and turned on that his initials are on you forever.
“cmon baby, cum for me.” with his permission you released for the 4th time. the orgasm not as strong as your previous ones but definitely strong enough to have you begging dean to stop “please no more, i can’t take it anymore” you cried out, your pussy now hurting from all the abuse and orgasms. your body aching, and exhaustion consuming you as you shook uncontrollably, dean still relentlessly fucking his fingers deep and hard into you. “that’s my good little cum slut” he ignored your pleas for him to stop making you cum. “d-dean please. i-i can’t”
he groaned out loud and finally removed his fingers from your pulsing pussy. “fine.” he backed away and leaned against the headboard, next to you. letting out a deep and satisfying sigh ending with a slight chuckle and a dirty smirk. “so..did i fuck the pain away?”
Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.
Slow burn (ish), mom!reader
Warnings: language, alcohol, lots of feelings, small angst, bullying, reader being a victim
Chapter Word Count: 6639
MDNI 18+
A/N: sorry this took so long! Life has been a lot aha. I kinda feel like I’ve rambled on with this one, so I’m sorry about that… I also feel like this was kinda a filler chapter? Idk, I’m sorry if this one isn’t as exciting… Either way, I hope you like it! As always, it's only proofread by moi, so let me know of any errors. Also feedback is greatly appreciated!
A/N2: GUYS IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING but PLEEEEASE provide your age if you want to be added to the taglist and it isn’t in your blog. This story is tame now but it’s gonna get spicy, and my blog is strictly 18+. So pleeeeease save be a very long job and help a gal out.
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New Readers Start Here: Chapter 1
Previous Chapter: Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Sunday mornings were the only time we could get away with being lazy. I would crawl out of bed at around eight o’clock - compared to my normal six o’clock - and shuffle downstairs in my pyjamas in search of coffee whilst Levi was either still sleeping or playing Guitar Hero on the PS2, quietly by himself. On this particular Sunday morning, however, I did indeed venture downstairs at just gone eight, and instead of finding one young boy playing video games by himself, I was greeted with the sight of him battling it out with his uncle whilst his dad sat and watched, critiquing his techniques. I padded in quietly, pulling my long soft cardigan around me further as I tried my best to watch on unseen, enjoying this moment just as much as they were and unwilling to pop their happy bubble. I watched for a few minutes, seeing how Sam didn't go easy on Levi just because he was a kid, and how Dean couldn't seem to take his eyes off his son who was entirely immersed in the game, a soft smile taking up permanent residence on his lips. Dean turned his head slightly and caught sight of me in the archway, that soft smile evolving into a pulse quickening grin. He stood quickly, striding over to me with those plaid pyjama pants distractingly low on his hips.
“G’mornin’ sweetheart, you sleep ok?” He was now a few inches away and smelt like coffee and warm linen - it was the sort of scent that wrapped around me and drew me in with an almost dangerous nature.
“Like the dead,” I grinned, looking up at him, “though I'm not surprised after all those beers and our 1AM bedtime. You're a bad influence Winchester,” I poked his chest and had to fight back a groan when I felt how frustratingly firm his muscles were beneath his grey henley. Instead of vocalising my ‘annoyance’, I bit my lip, which in its own way I suppose was worse. Worse, because now those mossy green eyes were looking at my mouth, their gaze lingering before looking back up to my eyes.
“What can I say except I had a good time? It was nice catching up like that. It was like…”
“Like we’d gone back to a simpler time?”
“Like we'd never been apart.”
Those words held a sudden weight to them that thumped deep in my chest.
“Yeah,” I said quietly, my eyes not leaving him, “I know what you mean”.
We both seemed caught up for a moment, silent and unmoving - just watching each other. He seemed totally steady, save for the deep inhale he took when I held his gaze just a little too long. He cleared his throat, breaking the trance that seemed too quick to have ever even existed in the first place.
“Coffee?” He asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards the kitchen.
“Coffee sounds great,” I smiled, glancing over to Sam and Levi who'd still failed to notice my arrival.
Dean and I paced leisurely to the kitchen where I was pleasantly surprised to see a pot of coffee already brewed, just waiting to be poured. Dean reached into the overhead cupboard, already learning where things were and selected two mugs. Pouring the hot liquid into both of them before handing me one, we both leant against the counter as I relished the warmth seeping through the ceramic and into my fingertips.
“You know,” I took a sip, humming in satisfaction, “I could get used to this,” my words felt dangerous the moment they slipped from my lips, a part of me kicking myself for vocalising such internal thoughts. Deans eyes widened almost fast enough for me to miss before his gaze returned to normal, his lips parting slightly as his mug paused on the elevation to his mouth. But once that half a second was over, it was like the fleeting surprise never happened. He simply hummed in agreement, his eyes soft and warm.
“Did you sleep ok?” I said quickly, taking the attention away from my earlier slip of words. He grinned with a nod.
“You have no idea how nice it is to sleep somewhere that's not musty and dusty and a possible crime scene from back in the eighties.” I grinned much like he did, my mind suddenly filling with images of brown and orange decor, unwashed bedsheets and spiders who might as well pay rent because they’ve been there so long.
“Well I can assure you that you're safe from all of that here - though no promises on the eighties crime scene, I have no idea who lived in this house back then.”
Deans grin turned more self assured as he raised an eyebrow at me.
“You don't think the equipment I brought would've made a noise if there was something here that went bump in the night?”
“Equipment?” I almost snorted, “you mean the EMF thing that you made on ‘pimp my Walkman’?”
Dean practically clutched his pearls.
“How dare you - that thing is a work of art. Blood, sweat and tears went into that masterpiece,” by the end of his sentence he was grinning again, almost like he knew he was talking out of his ass.
“Uh huh. Sure thing baby.”
Shit.
Deans lips twitch upwards as the intensity of his gaze sparks up something hot before quickly dying out, his posture straightening as he lifts his mug to his mouth again. I kick myself a second time for letting the term of endearment roll off my tongue. I’d never had this issue before - accidentally calling people nicknames or anything of the sort. I’d dated guys who had perfectly reasonable names that I always remembered to call them. Yet Dean… he stood here, in my kitchen after almost a decade and somehow still managed to turn my brain to butter. It was hard to describe, as surely I couldn’t still feel that way for someone who I’d been parted from for so long with not a whisper of their name from anyone's lips but my own. I no longer knew him. Nine years of time and life and experiences will have sculpted Dean and everything that I knew him to be into a totally different person…wouldn’t it? Hell, maybe he’s even got a girlfriend somewhere out there who's waiting for him to return to her, but he’s just been too nice to mention it. That, or I’ve been too selfishly wrapped up in things that used to be us to even think of asking. Perhaps the mushy consistency of my brain was simply another symptom of some so-called ‘muscle memory’, as my current behaviour was always how I’d been around him. Flirty. Playful. Infatuated. Perhaps I simply didn’t know how else to act; how to be normal in his presence because I knew he’s seen every inch of me, both physically and philosophically. He’d seen my ugly days yet he’d still kissed away the turmoil without so much as a second thought. Maybe, just maybe, I needed to reel myself back in - take myself back to before we were star crossed lovers. Before the memories were made and our hearts beat to the same tune. Back when we were just two people who would laugh and joke and stay up late. Perhaps that would make this all easier.
“There’s that name again,” Deans low drawl snapped me from my internal debate, an unreadable expression dawning on his features.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just- I don’t think my mouth and brain are working together anymore,” I sighed, fighting to keep some sliver of amusement in my voice.
“Oh yeah?” a smirk appeared on Deans face, that playful glint returning to his eye as he chewed his bottom lip as though having an internal debate of his own. Who knows what side won, but I’m sure some form of sleep depravity was involved with his next few words: “I remember a time when your mouth didn’t need your brain and it worked just fine on its own.” If his aim here was to make me flustered, he’d sure as hell succeeded as heat bloomed across my cheeks and my mouthful of coffee was spat back into my cup with a splutter.
“Dean!”
He released an almost wicked laugh, clearly pleased with himself for my reaction. If he was going to be making comments like that on a regular basis, it was going to prove extremely difficult for ‘operation: we’re just friends’ to be in full effect.
“I’m sorry sweetheart, I’ll stop,” his words were softer yet the edge of amusement was still present.
I scowled at him with as much venom as a fucking wetwipe, my own amused grin straining at my lips.
“You better,” I jabbed a finger into his chest before placing my half empty coffee mug on the counter, turning away from him to rummage through the kitchen cupboards. I turned back around a moment later and thrust four bowls in his hands along with four spoons and two large cereal boxes.
“Put these on the table before you say anything else that might cause me to choke on my coffee.”
I watched a choking innuendo pass right before his eyes yet he bit his tongue and pursed his lips, taking a moment before his eyebrows rose slightly.
“Were you always this bossy?”
“I’m not bossy, I just have a child who needs to be fed. Now, table,” I pointed to the items in his arms before pointing to their designated destination.
“You could at least say ‘please’,” his tone was growing taunting and it drew a sigh from my chest.
“Fine. Can you put those things on the table, please.”
“Hmm… I don’t feel like you meant that, it felt a little… I don't know… hostile?” The grin was now in full effect.
“DEAN.”
“Ok! I’m going!” he turned and did as I asked, finally setting the table for all four of us.
Breakfast passed by with so much ease it was as though we’d done it every day of our lives. Sam and Levi continued to talk about Guitar Hero whilst Dean listened, chipping in the classic rock trivia where he could. The whole time, I just sat, listened and watched, absorbing everything about this moment in time and doing whatever I could to make this a core memory. I breathed in, telling myself to remember the smell of sugar and coffee in the air, along with the new and unfamiliar masculine undertone of cologne and old leather. I looked around, watching how the golden morning light made their hair and skin glow in shades of amber and white, the small dust particles in the air illuminated like fireflies. The sound of their animated chatter was soft, creating a serene ambiance that was as pleasant on the ears as notes from a music box. Everything about this moment was all I’d dreamt of; from the fully occupied breakfast table to the relaxed atmosphere, and the cherry on the cake was knowing that these men were family. Levis family. He had a dad and an uncle who wanted to cherish him and spend time with him, to make him feel so important and loved that it made up for nearly nine years of absence. I know, deep, deep down that part of this was from them feeling guilty - Dean more so than Sam - yet that was only a small part. Their love and affection for him stemmed from something real and it was so easy to see, so fucking clear on their faces, that it made me want to cry. And that feeling was so fucking strong that I had to excuse myself from the table and freshen up in the bathroom, barely able to utter a word to them as I stepped away.
After taking five and splashing some water on my face I emerged from the bathroom and headed back downstairs. Sam and Levi were back in front of the playstation, this time playing Need for Speed, and Dean remained at the table, another coffee between his palms as he leant forwards, staring into the liquid. He must’ve heard me coming as he looked up with a slightly concerned expression.
“You ok?” he asked.
“Yeah,” my voice didn’t come out as level as I’d hoped, so I diverted the conversation. “I thought that’d be you over there playing Need for Speed. How come you’re over here glaring at your coffee?”
“Ahh, we’ve been up for a while and I spent about an hour on Guitar Hero with Levi before you came down. Plus…” the small smile on his lips that appeared when he looked over at his son was now directed towards me, “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Uh oh, I hate it when sentences start like that.”
“No, it’s nothing bad. I just…uhhh… well, last night when we were talking, you said something that I can’t stop thinking about,” despite his calm expression, his knuckles were starting to turn white around his cup.
“I said a lot of things last night, Dean, you’re going to ha-”
“Let me take you out.”
“What?”
“Let me take you out,” he repeated, but this time softer and slower, “you said last night that you never get to go out for drinks anymore and that you’ve had some pretty shit dates,” we both grimaced slightly at the thought of that. “ Well… I’m here. Let me take you out. Levi is at a sleepover tonight so you have nothing to worry about where he’s concerned,” he took a deep breath and reached across the table to place his hand, warm and large, over mine. “Let me do something nice for you, like you deserve.” There was a pause as silence settled between us for a moment. He wanted to take me out. Like, a date, or just as old friends, or as co-parents…? I had no idea what his angle was on this. Did he want to have sex? Was that it? Was he just trying to get his dick wet? Old Dean would occasionally pull those tricks with me, though they were usually few and far between, but would the new Dean do that? Was it even a low bar thing to do? Maybe it’s a pity date, and he’s only taking me out because I’ve been so incapable of being able to replace him with someone who is better - who probably doesn’t even exist - that he’s now just feeling sorry for me. Why, oh why the ever living fuck am I even over analysing this? Dean wanted to take me for drinks so why should I care what his motive is. This is a fucking opportunity for me to relax and let loose a little. To not be mom for a few hours. To be me. And why should I care if he wants to fuck me? I should be flattered, right? That he possibly still finds me attractive? And I can’t deny that it’s been a while since I’ve had half decent sex - or any sex at all for this matter.
“Yes,” I blurted, perhaps a little aggressively.
“Yes?” he smiles again, that easy, contagious smile, “you’ll let me take you on a date?”
“So it is a date?” I couldn’t help but mirror his grin, adding my own amused tone.
“Wasn’t that obvious?”
“Well, no, you said you’d ‘take me out’. That could mean anything. You could’ve meant with a fucking gun.”
Dean erupted into laughter, shaking his head. That laugh. I remember likening it to a favourite song that was so easy to put on repeat. It was addictive.
“Ok, so I’m not taking you out with a gun. I’m taking you out on a date. Have I dumbed it down enough for ya’ know?”
“If you were any clearer you’d be transparent,” I said, my tone bordering on mocking.
“Great, well, me and Sammy have a few loose ends to tie up from this case we’re on, so we need to head out soon. We’ll be back by the evening though, soooo…. Be ready for six?”
I nodded eagerly, watching as he stood from the table. The sight of him in the henley - plaid bottoms combo makes me want to have a cozy day indoors, watching nothing but scary movies and scarfing down popcorn and cookie dough. The sigh I heave from my lungs was totally involuntary.
“Yeah,” I smile, “six is perfect.”
Kat and Toby arrived at the house around noon. Whilst the boys race upstairs to get on with God-knows-what, Kat strides in with a knowing smirk when she clocks the duffle bags that are clearly not mine beside the couch, along with the lingering aroma that's distinctly masculine intertwining with the pumpkin spice from my scented candles. As I studied her face for all but a few seconds, I braced myself for the flurry of questions that I knew were buzzing around her mind.
“Sooooo…” her tone was already amused as she flopped down onto the couch. “Anything you need to tell me?”
“What? Who do you think I am?” I scoff at her words, yet my pulse quickens at the thought of telling her about my plans for tonight.
“I think you're a woman still in love with her childhood sweetheart and that he's already sweeping you off your feet.”
“I am not still in love with him. I can't possibly be in love with someone I've not seen for almost a decade.”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Bitch, don't ‘mmm hmm’ me. I'm not in love with Dean.”
“Would you fuck him?”
“God yes.”
“So you're keeping him around for the possibility of good dick?”
I threw myself down beside her on the couch, pulling a throw cushion into my lap.
“No, that is so not true. I can't believe you'd think me so shallow,” I held my hand to my chest in mock devastation. She hummed again.
“Didn't you do that to what's-his-face?”
“Who?”
“The guy you dated about a year ago, drove around in that Mustang?”
“Oh shit yeah! I think his name was Chad? Or maybe Brad…? Ok yeah, I did kinda keep him around for his dick… and his car. That car was awesome.”
“You shallow, shallow bitch.”
I threw the cushion which hit her square in the face, likely leaving a print of her lipstick behind on the soft fabric.
“But that was just some dude that was only with me so he could fucking tick ‘banged a milf’ off his bucket list. This is Dean I'm talking about. He's… well… he's Dean. And he's not here for me. He's here for Levi. Don't blame a man for wanting to stick around when he's just found out he's got a kid,” I gave her a look that said ‘I fucking love you but please can we drop this now’, and she did, one final hum moving past her lips. We stared at each other for a moment, her expression one of a studious nature and mine one of feigned innocence. This woman could read me like a book, and I both simultaneously loved and hated it. I loved it, because when something went wrong, and quite often in my life things did, she just knew. She knew to be at mine that same evening with a bottle of red and a bucket of popcorn, pyjamas on and the boys asleep upstairs. This woman had slept in my bed more times than any man as we continued to have sleepovers like teenagers well into our twenties. Alcoholic sleepovers. Yet I hated how she read me like a book, because like right now, if I was in denial about anything or for some absurd reason trying to keep a secret, she would just know. She was like a fucking mind reader. I chuckled inwardly at the thought of that being true. Maybe Dean should scan her with his Walkman and freak her out. Maybe then she'd get off my case about me still being in love with him. I'm not in love with him.
“You still aren't telling me something,” her voice was even, the amusement fading slightly as she stared at me, waiting for me to stop beating around the bush. Under the heat of her stare I caved, sighing and slumping even further into the soft cushions behind me.
“He's taking me out…on a date.”
“I FUCKING knew it!”
“What?! How would you know that?!” I almost jumped as she flew forward in her seat, the gleam back in her eyes as she grinned like the Cheshire Cat.
“I didn't know that exactly, but bitch I knew you were hiding something juicy!”
“It's not juicy! It's casual - just drinks. I’m gonna wear jeans.”
“Oh yeah, because flaunting the curvature of ones ass makes it casual…”
“Aren’t you here to collect my kid or something?” I launch into my last resort to end this hellish interrogation - which involved kicking her out.
“Babes you can kick me out of your house but you can’t ignore this,” she stood slowly, her ‘all-knowing’ expression un-faltering.
“Kat, it’s only day two of him being here! You are getting way ahead of yourself,” I stood with her, shaking my head.
“Two days plus the whole freakin’ year you were dating. That man is not a stranger to you. Hell, you’ve probably had that coc-”
“THANK YOU, Kat! I love you, you are the yin to my fucking yang but please for the love of CHRIST - shut up!”
Her expression finally cracked and she practically cackled at my discomfort, making her way to the stairs to get the boys.
“Bitch, if I don’t get details about tonight then -”
“Ok I’ll tell you! But seriously, don’t read into it too much, it’s just drinks.”
She strutted to the bottom of the stairs before ascending, calling over her shoulder; “Sure, whatever you say honey!”
It took longer than I'd have hoped, but Kat eventually left with the boys for the remainder of the day. As soon as they'd left the building, it was like I could breathe again - like the house could breathe again. It was a rare occasion for me to have the place to myself for five minutes, let alone a whole twenty four hours. It was like I could finally hear my own thoughts again after the busy breakfast and Kat's dire interrogation. The silence was bliss. It was pure bliss as I made myself a coffee and settled comfortably on the couch, taking a moment to myself. It was blissful right up until my own thoughts started banging at the door in the back of my mind. Thoughts about Dean, and his motives and my motives. Suddenly my relaxing afternoon to myself was quickly becoming a caged-in trap for my internal thoughts to run wild, the drums of possibilities sounding in the far reaches of my brain, beating faster and faster the closer they drew. Almost as quickly as I'd sat down, I jumped up and headed to the store cupboard under the stairs. One thing that could distract me was cleaning, so that's exactly what I was going to do.
I blitzed the house from top to bottom, hoovering, mopping, cleaning mirrors and windows, dusting and evening folding the pile of laundry that was starting to become part of the furniture. Much to my dismay, that only took up two hours of my time, so I was left with the only other task that I hate more than folding hundreds of small human sized pieces of fabric. Grocery shopping.
After a manic stock take of the fridge, cupboards and pantry, I made a list, grabbed my bag, threw on my jacket and headed out.
I'd been shopping around the small town convenience store for around twenty minutes, browsing the aisles and throwing everything - plus some extras - from my list into the aggravatingly wonky trolley. I hated grocery shopping with a passion - the constant beeping from the checkouts, the passive aggressive road rage between trolley users, and the dozens of obscenely slow browsers frustrated me beyond belief. I was normally able to push it to a big haul every two weeks, but with the prospect of Sam and Dean staying a while, it was a safe bet to fill the house to the brim with snacks and meals alike. With the lifestyle that those two lived, I can't imagine that they're overly fussy eaters, and I have a hunch that Dean still loves turkey dinosaurs.
The cereal aisle wasn't supposed to be an eventful place - deciding between Cookie Crisp and Cinnamon Squares should be the highlight of this venture. However as my luck would have it, it became eventful.
“Oh hi! (Y/n)!”
I looked up from my crumpled list and was greeted with three faces that I recognised but not to the point of acquaintanceship.
“Uhh, hi? Can I help you?”
“I just wanted to say that it's so great to finally see that Levi's father is around. It's just so important, isn't it? For a boy to have that male role model,” the first woman spoke; her peroxide blonde hair looked so overbleached it may as well have been straw on her head, and it almost distracted me from her painfully patronising voice.
“Excuse me? Do I know you?” My voice started to take on a defensive edge as my palms immediately grew sweaty, this situation already making me uncomfortable.
She laughed, looking over at her friend's like I'd asked some stupid fucking question.
“Our son's go to the same school - you should really know this.”
“Well, if our sons aren't friends, then why would I need to?”
She took a deep breath.
“I just think it's funny how someone like you managed to get someone like… what's his name… Dean? Isn't he a little out of your league?”
My pulse thrummed as my frustration grew with the sudden, unsolicited and blatant attack. How the fuck did they know Deans name? Someone must've overheard us at Jolenes'... or maybe at the track? And what the fuck did she mean by ‘out of my league’? If she was insinuating what I thought she was, then she's going to need to head over to the fucking freezer aisle real freaking soon.
“Excuse me?”
She smirked, knowing she was sinking her plastic fucking talons into my skin already.
“Oh I think you heard me. Does Dean know? That you trapped him? When you got pregnant on purpose at nineteen?”
My blood began to boil as I white knuckled the handle of the trolley to stop myself from punching her square between the eyes.
“Fuck you; I didn't ‘trap him’. Is that really what you cliquey bitches think?” I was equal parts furious and heartbroken. Furious, because how fucking dare they assume that just because Dean is a God tier DILf that I fooled him into getting me pregnant all those years ago. And heartbroken because, well, is that really what the people in this town thought of me? If these women thought that, then who's to say half the town don't think the same? Or maybe more - maybe it's the whole freaking town with Kat being the only exception, and I've been living so cocooned in my own bubble that it never even occurred to me. But Dean has barely even been here a day, so I can’t exactly blame myself for being so wrapped up in my own life with everything going on. How can people form such strong opinions so quickly when they don’t even know the whole story? My story with Dean. Not theirs. They’ve somehow managed to put two and two together to come up with negative fucking ten, and I’ll be damned if I let them drag our names through the mud.
“Oh honey, we know that you tricked him. A man like that, with that face and physique would never have chosen you willingly, right? I mean, you really don’t look his type.”
“Oh, and you do? Because you know Dean so well?”
“That’s enough!” We were caught off guard by the oldest of the three, a woman perhaps in her fifties, snapping in a clipped tone. “Michelle, that’s quite enough, you’re taking this too far now. And you,” she turned to me with a stern gaze, “that man looks like trouble. We don’t like those sorts around here; you tell him to behave himself.” My anger and frustration was quickly melting into straight up irritation.
“Look, lady-”
“Karen.”
“Sure, ok… look, Deans a grown ass man, he can do whatever the fuck he likes - he’s here on a job. I’m not telling him to do shit.”
“Language! Such a foul mouth-”
“Is he single?” our heads quickly snapped to the third woman of the group - younger than the other two but still a little older than myself. She was a near double of the blonde from the hair to the clothes to the claws, yet she seemed to lack the spite.
“What?” yet another question that caught me off guard. What the fuck is wrong with these women?
“Dean, is he single? I mean, I’ve not seen him, but from how you describe him, he seems hot,” she twirled a lock of hair around her finger like a school girl despite likely being in her thirties.
“Hannah you’re married,” Karen chimed in with obvious disgust.
That was it, the last fucking straw. I’d had enough of the ambush from three women that I barely even knew. I adjusted my grip on the trolley and quickly planned my escape route, spotting an opening in the crowd to the side. I gritted my teeth and steeled my gaze, the bitter taste of disgust, fury, and disappointment coating my tongue as I all but spat my words.
“This has been a riveting conversation, truely, but I’m leaving. Now,” and with that I hastily left them behind, finishing my shopping with the dark cloud of judgement looming over me.
The urge to cry hot, angry tears in the car on the ride home was a battle I didn't want to fight. The intensity of the emotions brewing in the pit of my stomach and bubbling into my chest was so strong, so consuming that I didn't even realise I was pulling into my own driveway, having completed the short journey on what I like to call ‘blackout autopilot’. One tear was shed over the shitshow, and in my opinion, that was one tear too many. I was annoyed at myself with having let it get to me so much, knowing I'd grown thicker skin than this. It wasn't the first time I'd been confronted, like a fucking black sheep in a blindingly white flock, yet for some reason, this got to me. At this point, I was drained from even thinking about it, so I grabbed the groceries, making several trips to get them all in the house, put away the fridge and freezer items and left the rest on the counter to deal with later. Right now, I needed a large glass of wine and something to distract myself with. So I decided on the only thing I had going for me at this point in time.
Time to pick an outfit for tonight.
My bedroom was a modest size and the king-size bed practically consumed the room. I had a large, sliding mirrored-door wardrobe that was built into the structure of the room which I flung open and started to rummage through as soon as I made it upstairs.
I'd told myself - and Kat - that it was casual. Dean had implied it, so this shouldn't be too hard to find something nice to wear.
Wrong.
I must've spent the best part of an hour trying on dozens of different tops with my only pair of ‘nice’ jeans - those ones that hugged my ass and thighs just right. I tried long sleeves, short sleeves, chiffon, cotton, satin, opaque, obscenely translucent, bright, monochrome and in all honesty, I felt inadequate in every single one. I'd never really been one to feel overly self conscious of how I looked, but for some absurd reason, this date with Dean was making me flustered. It had me worried that he wouldn’t like how I looked, especially since I’d had Levi and my body had changed in a way that he didn’t know just yet.
Just yet.
I cursed myself slightly, shaking that idea from my head. Yes, I’ve had plenty of time to try and get myself back to normal, but some things just weren't the same anymore, and probably never would be. I hated the fact that I was even stressed about this. The safest option was to just go for something comfortable, so I donned a stretchy, low-cut and long sleeved black top and slid on a pair of black closed-toe heels before sitting down at my dresser.
I’d just opened my makeup bag when I heard the door downstairs open and close, quickly followed by the oddly comforting sounds of Sam and Deans voices floating through the house and up the stairs. I turned to myself in the mirror, sighing at the tired looking woman staring back at me. Get your shit together, (Y/n), Dean is taking you on a date. I grasped my over-sharpened eyeliner pencil that was likely no longer than an inch in length and got to work. I suddenly flinched and nearly poked myself in the eye when Dean appeared in my bedroom doorway.
“Jesus, Dean! You scared the crap out of me - I didn’t even hear you come up the stairs.”
He grinned slightly as he leant against the wooden frame, large arms crossing over his chest.
“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to…” his voice trailed off and I could feel his eyes on me, as though he was searching for something. A few moments went by in silence, and right as I was about to turn to him, he spoke.
“Hey, are you ok?” His voice was dangerously soft, and concerned in a way that could easily have me weeping in his arms. Because of the shitty afternoon I’d had, I feel like it wouldn’t take much kindness from him to have me crumble - no matter how much I’d hate myself for it afterwards. Instead, I pushed everything down as best as I could and turned to him with a weak smile.
“Yeah, I’m ok. I’ve had a bit of a weird, shitty afternoon but I won’t ruin your evening with it.” At my words he pulled a face, his own words quickly following.
“It’s your evening. And if there’s something eating at you, you know you can talk to me. Just like you used to,” his smile was back, warm and comforting and like a balm over a burn. I looked back at myself in the mirror for a moment, debating if it was even worth talking about. If it was anyone but Dean, I wouldn’t hesitate to keep this to myself. But it was Dean, and I hated to say it, but he was always good at dealing with me when I was like this in the past. I turned to him and let his calming presence seep into my bones, desperately trying to take it on myself.
“Ok,” I said quietly, “I’ll tell you at the bar. But I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, and I don’t want to talk about it all evening,” He nodded.
“Whatever you need sweetheart,” he stood up straight and said something about getting ready himself before he left the room, leaving me to finish up before finally heading downstairs.
It was roughly another fifteen minutes before I made my way down; Dean already waiting for me in the archway to the kitchen. He looked up as he heard me coming, eyes brightening when he grinned at me.
“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” his voice was smooth and deep, a flirtatious undertone rumbling in his chest.
“Not so bad yourself Winchester,” I walked up to stand in front of him, almost toe-to-toe. I looked him over, taking in the black shirt he wore, untucked and paired his jeans. The boots and brown leather jacket remained the same, yet I could see the damp patches on both from where he’d scrubbed either mud or blood from the fabric - perhaps both. It wouldn’t be the first time. I took a deep breath, my pulse quickening as his scent filled my senses.
“Have you eaten yet?” he asked, removing a hand from his pocket and let it hang awkwardly at his side. I shook my head.
“Not yet, I sometimes forget to eat when Levi isn’t around.” Dean shot me a look that could have been both concerned or protective.
“Ok, well I’m taking you for dinner too then.”
“What? No Dean, you really don’t have t-”
“Don’t argue with me sweetheart, I'm fucking feeding you,” his tone was final, leaving no room for negotiation so I sighed in defeat.
“Fine, but we’re not going anywhere expensive.”
His smirk widened across his face as he continued to look down at me, finally placing that awkwardly hanging hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the door. He shouted a ‘goodbye’ to Sam over his shoulder and, without really waiting for a reply, he ushered me out of the house and towards the car, locking up behind us. I walked up to the black vehicle, the excitement starting to bubble at the thought of going for a ride in her again after all this time. As Dean walked up to me, he opened the passenger side door, letting me hop in first. I took my seat, quickly dumping my bag and jacket in the footwell so I could softly run my fingertips over the perfectly maintained leather seats, noticing how not a thing had changed - not even the box of cassettes on the back seat. As Dean slid into the drivers seat, his expression something akin to pride, he couldn’t help but comment on my reaction to being back in the impala.
“I bet you missed Baby more than you missed me,” he joked, turning the key and letting the engine roar into life. I bit my lip, leaning back in my seat.
“I missed you both equally,” the humorous tone came easily, my earlier worries already started to feel insignificant as they slipped away with every tick of the engine.
“Equally?” he echoed, feigning hurt, “you don’t even prefer me just a little bit more?”
I pretended to ponder intently, holding a finger to my lips as I crossed my arms over my chest. An obnoxious string of ‘hmmms’ slipped through my lips before I saw him roll his eyes, still grinning.
“Yeah, I guess I do. Especially since you're taking me on a date,” my own words made my heart flutter and luckily he'd moved his gaze from me to the road as he pulled out of my drive. My face felt warm and I cursed at myself for being so easily affected by him already, entranced by the way those long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and the muscles in his jaw flexed under the glow of the passing street lamps. I couldn't deny that he was still painfully attractive, even after all this time. If I was being honest with myself, he was making it incredibly difficult to concentrate on much else right now. If drinks were soon to be involved, there was a very high chance of me making a total ass of myself in front of him.
Just checked my followers and I realized I made it to over 300!!! Yall…. I am so grateful! 😭😭 Thank you for all those who love/reblog/ and comment on my stories! I never thought that this account would even make it past 100 followers but you all have went above and beyond 💚
A few shoutouts to @jackles010378 , @whimsyfinny , @deanwinchestersgirl8734 , and @zepskies and many many more who have been so supportive! I can’t thank you all enough!
Soooo idk how many people are going to be interested but I'm writing a GhostfaceAu!Dean x F!Reader for October/Halloween. It's gonna be a oneshot (a very very long oneshots ngl). Honestly I have no idea if anyone is interested in this but I'm obsessed with slasher movies and I've been thinking about this for a while now. You know me and how I write, and oh boy am I gonna make it messy. Maybe even unhinged? Who knows if this is going to be well received 😅 either way, if you want to be tagged in this just let me know!
