#Dean Winchester x y/n fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wildwestdean · 4 months

Text

transposition

summary: a spell goes wrong and ends up with you and sam switching bodies. neither of you tell dean, which ends up being the greatest decision you ever made

pairing: dean winchester x witch!reader; best friend!sam winchester x witch!reader (platonic, obvs)

word count: 6.3k+

warnings: swearing, mentions of magic use, misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst, secrets, accidental love confessions, awkward idiots, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, cliches, minor use of [y/n], (female pronouns/descriptors used)

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam grunted under his breath, continuing to powder the contents of your mortar with more force than necessary. “If Dean finds out about this-”

“Dean asked me to do this,” you defended, eyes skimming over the page in front of you before looking up at him. “Okay, maybe not verbatim, but he asked!” you added upon seeing the look on Sam’s face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did,” he replied sarcastically, slamming the pestle down with enough force to make you flinch.

“Would you be fucking careful!” you hissed, glaring at him. “That thing isn’t indestructible and it’s important to me, it was a gift-”

“From Dean,” he finished for you. “I know. Sorry,” he added, and even though his tone was sincere, you just knew he rolled his eyes anyway; and you chucked the closest thing you could grab at his back in retaliation.

“Dick,” you muttered, going back to reading the passage before you.

It wasn’t often that you used your powers - more so when it came down to a last resort option - and when Dean first discovered that you had magic, it wasn’t intentional. The two of you were on a hunt together, and it was - of course - not going to plan. You were on the brink of consciousness, having no choice but to watch defenselessly as Dean became outnumbered by Vamps. The spell came out of nowhere, nothing more than a primal instinct to protect him, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two of you were left alone with nothing but piles of ash where the monsters once stood. Dean first thought that Rowena had somehow stumbled upon them to save the day once more, though once he realized the spell came from you, he damn near lost his mind. You would have rather he yelled at you, smashed things around, anything compared to what he did. Once he made sure you were okay and had you checked out, he simply acted as if you didn’t exist; you were completely frozen out of his life. He never needed to say anything, you could see it in his eyes every time he glanced at you: How could you be a witch? He hated witches, and you knew that- it’s half the reason you never told him in the first place. He only started coming around with Sam’s convincing- and even then, it took an incredibly long time for him to trust you again. Then, one day, he came to realize that no matter what happened, he could never hate you. So, he came to you with an open mind and a peace offering- the exact mortar and pestle you had once told Sam that you wanted, because it reminded you of your mother’s- and the two of you worked on putting the pieces of your friendship back together.

“Ass,” Sam retorted, turning and walking over to you with the freshly crushed ingredients.

“You know,” you started, taking it from his hands. “You can’t really be against this all that much, otherwise you wouldn’t be here helping.”

“I’m only here so you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Oh, come on,” you urged with a chuckle. “You love doing this, and you know it.”

He gave you a sarcastic smile before taking the book from you. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the book right back.

With one final glare at each other, you started the spell. Everything was going well… until it wasn’t.

You aren’t exactly sure where it went wrong. You don’t know if it was the ingredients, the way you said the spell, or just a mixture of everything, but before you even knew what was happening the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow and sent both you and Sam flying.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “What the fuck?” you wondered aloud, feeling strange beyond comprehension.

“What the hell happened?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized why you felt so different. “Sam?” you asked meekly.

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up. “Wait-”

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; were they even your hands?

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; your body?

“You’re me!” you exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you.

“You’re me!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, using the wall behind you to help you stand. “God, how do you live like this?”

“Me? What about you? I won’t even be able to reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen!” he countered, flailing his arms around.

“At least you’ll be able to fit on your bed! My feet are gonna dangle!” you huffed, folding your arms over yourself.

“You need to fix this,” Sam declared, stepping towards you. You couldn’t help but take a few steps away- this was way too weird. You’ve seen shifters take your image before, but this was actually you. Only it wasn’t you. You felt like your head was about to explode.

“Gee, you think, Sam?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “I thought we’d just stay like this forever!”

He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. You both flinched, turning to see Dean peering into the room.

“What the fuck’s with all the yelling?” he asked, glancing around. “The hell is going on?”

“I- uh-” you tried to answer, but nothing came to mind.

“Just, uh…. experimenting,” Sam supplied, and you sent him a glare.

“Experimenting?” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at you- or rather, at whom he thought was you.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, not sure what else to say. The two of you shared a look, silently agreeing not to breathe a word of what was really going on.

Dean’s face softened, and he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing that spell. Sweetheart, we can get by without it.”

“We don’t-” you started to argue, before Sam interrupted you with a clearing of his throat.

Right. Dean wasn’t exactly talking to you right now.

“Thought it was a good opportunity to practice,” Sam replied, sounding more like he was asking than telling.

“Right,” Dean said, eyeing your body wearily.

Oh, god. He was gonna pick up on something being wrong, it was only a matter of time.

“You can leave any time now,” you spoke up, more irritated than you meant to sound, but you were severely on edge.

Dean turned to you with a look of surprise. “‘Scuse me?”

“I just- you know, we’re in the middle of something,” you continued, doing your best to stand your ground.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he quipped, taking a step towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you letting her mess around with this stuff? Better yet, why are you helping her mess around with this stuff?”

“It’s just a simple spell,” you argued, your head swirling with the fact that you were looking down on him, instead of being dwarfed by his frame like you normally would be.

“A simple spell?” he repeated, fury and irritation dancing in his eyes. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“Last I checked we could make our own decisions, Dean!” you exclaimed, glaring at him.

“Sure,” he placated with a nod. “So long as they’re not stupid ass decisions!”

“Can we go ten minutes in this place without a fight happening?” Sam pitched in, already exasperated with the situation.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbled, glaring at you. “Food’s ready.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam announced, earning a glare from you in return.

“Don’t you think we should finish-” you tried to ask, but were quickly cut off by Dean.

“No, you guys are done in here,” he declared, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

“Dean-” you tried once more, only to be cut off again.

“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m not kidding. Whatever you two were doing, it’s done.”

“Fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” you relented, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “We need to clean up!” you added upon seeing the look on Dean’s face.

“Five minutes,” Dean agreed pointedly. “Or I swear, I’ll drag both your asses out of this room.”

“Yeah, five minutes, got it,” you huffed, watching him as he hesitantly left the room.

You waited a few moments before hastily making your way over and all but slamming the door, turning to look at Sam with wide eyes.

“We are so screwed,” he declared, matching your expression.

“What are we supposed to do? He’s gonna figure out something’s wrong!” you exclaimed, slumping against the door behind you.

“We just…. I don’t know, pretend?” Sam suggested with a shrug.

“Pretend?” you repeated incredulously. “Sam, this is insane! We can’t just pretend to be each other!”

“It’s not like I meant permanently!” he defended, holding out his hands in surrender. “But until we can find a way to fix this, we have to at least play the part in front of Dean.”

“Fine,” you agreed with a huff. “But I am not going on your crack of dawn jogs.”

“Oh, come on-” he started to argue, though quickly stopped when met with your glare. “Yeah, okay, that- that’s fine.”

“Great. Now let’s go before Dean gets even more pissy,” you declared, opening the door with a flourish.

With a quick nod, he followed you down the hall, the two of you lowly bickering about the situation all the way to the kitchen.

“I feel like a baby giraffe with this fucking body.”

“You look like a baby giraffe, do you not know how to walk?”

“Yeah, I know how to walk! I know how to walk with normal legs!”

“Normal? You’re short enough to get in anywhere with a child’s pass!”

“Keep up with the attitude, Sam. Maybe I’ll go have a really nice salon visit and cut all this hair!”

“Fine, then maybe I’ll call up that guy from your ‘worst date ever’ and ask to catch up!”

“Fine by me. You’ll be the one he’ll be groping and hitting on the whole time.”

“Yeah- well-... look, just don’t cut my hair!”

“What are you two all hush hush about?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing you both as you entered the kitchen.

“Nothing,” you both quickly replied, taking a seat at the table.

Dean stared at you both for a moment before nodding curtly. “If you say so.”

Choosing not to reply, you both quietly watched as he joined the table, taking his regular seat next to you. Which, of course, meant he was currently next to Sam, and you watched in amusement as he shifted nervously while Dean got too close for his comfort.

Attempting to stifle a laugh, you took a bite of the burger that was placed in front of you, only to grimace in response. “What is this?” you asked through a mouthful, meeting Dean’s confused gaze.

“It’s… the same veggie burger you force me to make you every time I make burgers?” he replied, looking at you as though you lost your head.

Fucking Sam, you thought bitterly. “Oh, right. Right, it just- it tastes different, I don’t know,” you stammered, sparing a quick glance across at Sam as you hurriedly took another bite.

“You two are weirder than usual tonight,” Dean muttered to himself before eating his own food.

The three of you ate in stifling silence, you and Sam both internally trying to find a way out of this mess, before Dean spoke up again and pulled you from your revere.

“[Y/N], do you want just the usual from the store? I was gonna make a run before our movie night,” he said, turning to look beside him with a soft grin.

You felt your stomach drop as Sam cleared his throat, looking between you and Dean for a moment. “Movie night?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. “Like we have every Friday?”

“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t realize what day it is, I, uh- I’m actually not… feeling too hot, do you mind if we skip it tonight?”

“You wanna skip it?” Dean asked quietly, making your heart shatter as you watched the hurt and disappointment flash across his face.

After the two of you made up from your falling out, you started a tradition of spending extra quality time together at least once a week. This resulted in having a movie night every Friday, no matter what. Whether that meant catching a random movie on a motel tv or settling into the Dean Cave, you both always found a way to make it. Knowing you had no choice but to skip out this time almost made you want to tell him what happened right then and there; but you didn’t.

“Yeah, I just… I think it’s best if I just head to bed, you know? I’d hate for it to get worse,” Sam said sheepishly, playing with the glass in front of him as he met Dean’s gaze halfheartedly.

You were glad that if you had to mistakenly swap bodies with someone, it was Sam. Given that he became your best friend from just about the moment you met, he had your behaviour down pat; you just hoped you could do the same and make this all a little easier.

“Well what do you mean, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly.

“I’m just feeling run down is all,” Sam said, shrugging lightly as he stood up, taking his dishes to the sink. “Maybe we can watch something tomorrow,” he added, turning back to Dean with a shy smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed softly, averting his gaze to the beer in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.”

“Sure. Uh, goodnight, guys,” Sam replied awkwardly, shooting you a pointed look before leaving.

You stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, studying Dean as he pouted at his bottle.

“You alright?” you asked tentatively.

“Yeah, just… first time she’s bailed on me,” he replied indifferently, downing the rest of his beer before heading to get another one.

“She didn’t bail on you,” you argued firmly. “It’s not like she chose to go bar hopping or something, she’s sick.”

“Didn’t seem so sick when she was huddled up with you,” Dean said curtly, leaning against the counter as he sent you a cold stare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked confusedly, shifting in your seat to look at him better.

He remained silent, lips pursed as he studied you for what felt like hours, before he finally shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Then why say it?” you asked in irritation.

He remained silent once more, simply raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip before standing upright. “Night, Sammy.”

“Dean-” you tried to press, but he only ignored you as he continued across the floor, leaving the kitchen without saying another word.

You sighed in exasperation, quickly cleaning everything up before heading to your room, catching almost no sleep as you dove deep into researching for a reversal to your mistake.

“You need to shave,” Sam said, staring at you from across the table.

“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the declaration.

“Your beard - my beard. You need to shave it,” he clarified. “It’s been over a week.”

“And?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I doubt you’re taking care of all my housekeeping.”

“That’s because I’m doing everything possible to not look at you! Like you asked!” he hissed in return.

You rolled your eyes in response, returning your attention to the book in front of you. “I have more important things on my mind than shaving your stupid facial hair - which looks fine, by the way.”

Sam huffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well you can at least take five minutes for me!”

“I don’t even know how to shave a beard, Sam!” you argued, closing the book in exasperation.

“Then just let me shave it for you!” he begged, leaning over the table. “I’m serious, [Y/N], you can’t just leave me all unkempt.”

You met his gaze and sighed softly. “Damn, you can even pull off the puppy dog eyes with my face. That’s a talent, Sammy.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, for what felt like the first time since this whole thing happened. “You can do it better than I can,” he chuckled. “At least when it comes to Dean,” he added with a smirk.

“What does that mean?” you asked curiously.

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get you- me- whatever, all taken care of before Dean gets back with dinner.”

“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed, getting up to follow him.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of him as he sat on the bathroom counter, because: “How else are we supposed to do this? These arms aren’t gonna reach that face comfortably without some help.”

You fell into a comfortable silence as he did what he needed to do, the only words spoken being his occasional nagging for you to quit moving, as you were both lost in your own thoughts about the last few days.

“I’m really sorry, Sammy,” you said suddenly. You weren’t sure whether your voice was so quiet due to the shame you felt, or for the fear of breaking the silence that surrounded you.

“It’s not your fault,” he said simply, reflexively.

You sighed, gently shaking your head; which earned another scolding glare from him as he steadied you. “It’s entirely my fault. I fucked up big time, and we both know it.”

“Look, it was an accident,” he urged, wiping away the remnants of the shave one last time. “Assigning blame isn’t going to change anything.”

“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be furious! I practically ruined your life,” you pressed on frantically.

“Okay, that’s being dramatic,” he chided. “Yeah, this isn't an ideal situation. Though weirdly, it’s also not the weirdest situation I’ve been in. And you know what? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in this situation! Remember when that kid switched bodies with me? Trust me, you’re a much better person to be switched with.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, chuckling softly. “Still, I’m really sorry.”

“I know you are,” he said softly. “I also know you’ll find a way to fix this.”

“You really believe that?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “‘Cause it’s you, and I’ll always have faith in you. You didn’t mean for this to happen, [Y/N]. It’s okay.”

“No, it-” you started to argue, but he cut you off.

“Stop,” he urged softly. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Maybe I was at first, but I’m not anymore.”

“Promise?” you asked meekly.

“I promise,” he said firmly.

“Okay,” you relented, not fully believing him but not wanting to push the topic any further.

“Okay,” he repeated, gently wiping away one of your stray tears.

“Maybe we should just tell Dean,” you suggested hesitantly.

“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice suddenly cut through the room.

The two of you jumped, and you moved away from the counter as calmly as you could, knowing how the predicament you were in must look to him.

You turned to the doorway and came face to face with Dean staring intently at the two of you, his mind working into an overdrive as he tried to make sense of the scene he just walked in on.

“Dean, I- when did you get back?” you asked nervously.

“Tell me what?” he asked again, ignoring your question.

You and Sam were both at a loss. You spent so much time trying to figure this whole thing out, yet neither of you thought to come up with some kind of story should you be cornered like this.

“[Y/N]?” Dean asked softly, looking over to where he thought you sat on the counter.

The look of hurt and confusion that flashed over his face and the waver in his voice all but sent a fresh wave of tears washing over you.

Dean waited impatiently a few moments before shaking his head with a scoff. “Whatever, food’s in the kitchen.”

Before anyone could say anything else, he turned on his heel and left, leaving you and Sam stunned in his wake.

The dynamic between the three of you began shifting even more ever since that night, and you could feel Dean slipping further and further away from you with each passing day.

You noticed it every time Dean would catch you and Sam huddled up and whispering low; when he would stand and stare before leaving with a quiet grumble of forgetting why he was there.

You noticed it when he started spending more time in his room or tinkering with Baby in the garage; finding any and every excuse possible to spend time outside of the bunker and away from you and Sam.

You and Sam tried to ignore it, promised yourselves that you’d explain everything once you managed to set things right - or, if you discovered you were over your heads and couldn’t fix everything.

The thing you hated most about this whole thing was that it was becoming easier and easier to lie to Dean; and the worst part about that was not knowing whether you and Sam really became more convincing, or if Dean just didn’t care enough to question you anymore.

Which is exactly why you found yourself sitting in the war room, waiting for Dean to make his way through to the kitchen, in order to try and talk things out.

You weren’t expecting him to appear with one duffle bag over his shoulder and another by his side - and he wasn’t expecting to see you, either.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he declared after a moment of hesitation, continuing on his path to the stairs.

“Where the hell are you going?” you asked hotly, standing from your seat.

Dean sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he considered his response. “Donna’s cabin.”

“What? Why?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together with confusion.

“I can’t do it anymore,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t, okay?”

“Do what?” you asked wearily, taking a tentative step towards him. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you pressed, feeling your chest tighten with the rising nerves and fear.

“Don’t do that,” he demanded, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?”

“What-... what’s been going on?” you asked curiously. “The hell are you talking about?”

You weren’t sure if or when he figured out what happened, and you also weren’t sure why it would make him feel the need to leave.

“I’m talking about you and [Y/N]!” he shouted, throwing his bags down and stepping towards you.

“Me and [Y/N]?” you wondered, taking a nervous step backwards.

“I’m not an idiot, okay?” he spat, his jaw ticking. “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I couldn’t figure it out?”

“Okay, look,” you began, holding out your hands defensively. “I can explain.”

Dean let out a humourless laugh, running a hand over his mouth before glaring at you once more. “Explain,” he echoed with a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t waste your breath.”

“Why are you so pissed off about this?” you asked in bewilderment. “I mean, I know we kept it from you, but we figure it’d be easier for you.”

“Easier for me?” he repeated, voice raising. “What about this entire situation makes you think it’d be easy for me?”

“Well because it-... I mean it doesn’t really affect you, Dean,” you replied, unsure of your own words.

“It doesn’t affect me?” he repeated with perplexion. “Of course it affects me! You know how I feel about her!” he exclaimed, taking yet another step forward.

“What?” you questioned, thrown off by his response.

“Don’t “what” me,” he snapped. “I want to be happy for you, Sammy. I really do, but I just-... I don’t think I ever can be.”

“Okay, I-... I am so lost,” you admitted.

“You stole my girl, Sam!” Dean all but screamed. “You know that I love her. You know I was gonna tell her, and you know how much I want to spend whatever’s left of my god forsaken life with her! You swore you didn’t feel that way about her. You- I mean how to hell could you do this to me, Sammy? I can’t even stand to look at you anymore.”

You remained silent, staring at him in shock and confusion for what felt like hours. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a broken whisper of his name.

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. Not like I can blame you for falling for her, right? I mean hey, I sure did,” he sassed, smiling sarcastically. “Not surprised she chose you, either. She deserves someone better than me. But I’m not sticking around anymore to see it first hand.”

You watched in stunned silence as he turned to gather his bags, trying and failing to think of anything to say. What the hell were you supposed to do? The man of your dreams just admitted he felt the exact same way, and you were trapped in his brother's body. Even if you told him the truth right now, would he even believe you?

“Do me one favour, though,” Dean said from the foot of the stairs, effectively pulling you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell [Y/N]. Don’t tell her anything. I’ll think of something to tell her during the drive and call her tomorrow.”

“Dean-” you finally began to protest, only to go unheard by him as he started up the steps.

“Later, Sammy,” he announced with finality, disappearing out of the bunker.

“You have got to be kidding me. I mean honestly woman, how stupid can you be?” Rowena’s voice rang through the war room as she made her arrival known to you and Sam.

“Did you not get in enough insults over the phone?” you asked in exasperation, not bothering to move from your spot in the library as you watched her approach.

“I don’t think there are enough insults for this situation, dear,” she said sweetly, smiling innocently.

“Either be helpful or leave, Rowena,” you replied solemnly.

It had been three days since Dean left, and over two weeks since the whole debacle happened. You had never been more determined to find a solution, nor had you ever felt more defeated.

“Alright, fine. No need to be cranky,” Rowena tsked, taking a seat across from you. “Go on, then. Walk me through everything.”

“Fine,” you sighed, steadying yourself before recounting the situation.

“Let me get this straight,” Rowena declared, holding a hand up. “You actually let him leave? After what he said?”

“Is that seriously your only take away from this?” you asked angrily, glaring at her.

“It’s not my only take away, but it’s certainly a big one,” she said calmly, accompanied by a half shrug. “This is the spell you used?” she asked, looking over the book you gave her during your explanation.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed sheepishly.

“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have you and Samuel right as rain in no time, dear,” she comforted, eyes never leaving the pages in front of her.

It took another four days, but ‘No time’ finally came. You were practically itching to get this all over and done with as the three of you finished setting everything up. You didn’t even care about being in your own skin again, all you cared about at this point was getting Dean back in your life. He did everything possible to avoid talking to you or Sam each time either of you tried contacting him, and you were missing him more and more with each passing hour.

“That should do it,” Rowena declared, snapping you back to attention. “You know what you need to do?”

“Yes,” you said quickly, urging her out of the room; the last thing you needed was for her to be around and have the spell go wrong again, resulting in all three of you being scrambled around.

“Don’t rush it!” she cautioned. “I know you want him back, but you need to take this slowly. You can’t afford another screw up!”

Her statement made you pause, and you knew she was right. “Go slow, I got it,” you confirmed, shutting her out of the room.

“Ready?” Sam asked, looking at you eagerly; albeit nervous beyond belief.

“More than ever,” you declared, taking your place at the altar.

You began the spell, doing everything slowly and precisely so there was no room for error. Once you had finished, however, nothing had happened. You were just about ready to scream with all the emotions boiling inside of you when suddenly the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow, sending both you and Sam flying.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “This again?” you wondered aloud.

“Did it even work?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I think so,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized what happened. “Sam?” you asked breathlessly.

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up himself. “Wait-”

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; your own hands.

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; his very own body.

“You’re you!” you exclaimed in glee, pointing at him.

“You’re you!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, taking a moment to steady yourself on your own feet. “I need to go,” you announced, not giving him time to reply before you ran out of the room.

“You’re welcome!” Rowena called after you, watching you run by.

“Thank you!” you called back absently, hurrying out to your car.

The drive took longer than ever before; at least, it felt like it did. You spent the whole time trying to think of what to say, of how to explain, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed like enough. All you could hope for was that everything would magically come to you once you stood before him.

If he ever decided to open the goddamn door.

“Dammit, Dean! Open the fucking door before I break it down!” you yelled, banging your hand against the wood for the upteenth time.

You opened your mouth to yell once more, but before you could even make a sound a voice boomed out from behind you. “What are you doing here?”

You turned with a start, coming face to face with Dean as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I came to talk to you,” you said simply, taking a few steps forward.

He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on wiping the grease from his hands with the rag he held. “Coulda just called,” he countered gruffly.

“Why?” you asked, laughing dryly. “You’d just ignore my calls.”

He stilled his ministrations for a moment before shrugging, glancing back up at you. “Maybe ‘cause we got nothing to talk about.”

“Dean-” you tried to argue, though you stopped short when he rolled his eyes and turned away from you.

“Look, I know all about you and Sam, okay?” he huffed, storming across the drive and to where Baby was parked, hood still open for Dean to continue working on her.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Dean. There is no me and Sam!” you exclaimed with a groan, quickly following behind him.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he placated, picking up his previously abandoned ratchet.

“Just listen to me,” you pleaded, watching his face scrunch with a mix of frustration and concentration as he dove back into his work.

“You don’t need to explain,” he said distractedly. “I get it. He’s good for you. I just-... you didn’t need to hide it, [Y/N/N]. I thought we were closer than that.”

“We are! That’s not what we were hiding, just let me explain!” you said desperately, stepping closer to him.

“You can quit the act, okay?” he snapped, stopping what he was doing as he stood up, finally turning to look at you. “I have eyes, I saw what-”

“Sam and I fucking switched bodies!” you yelled over him, effectively rendering him speechless. “Alright? When you walked in on us doing that spell the other week… it went wrong, Dean. Sam and I, we just-... we switched!”

“You… switched bodies?” he asked slowly, scepticism starting to present itself on his face as he processed what you said.

“Yes,” you confirmed softly. ”I was Sam, Sam was me.”

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he anxiously tapped his fingers on Baby’s exterior. “Well, isn’t that just a great story,” he muttered, leaning under the hood once more.

“It’s not a story,” you argued desperately. “It’s what happened.”

“Then why not tell me?” he challenged, not missing a beat.

“Because,” you began lamely. “You always have so much on your plate, Dean. We didn’t want to shove this stupid thing on you and add to your worries.”

“So you lied to me for my own good?” he asked harshly, gaze not straying from his hands as he worked.

“We didn’t lie, we just-”

“Avoided the truth,” he finished for you. “Same thing, if you ask me.”

“We thought it was for the best,” you admitted quietly.

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed sarcastically, throwing his tools down. “Sneaking around, icing me out. Definitely for my best interest, huh?”

“Dean, please,” you pleaded. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Then why did you come, [Y/N]?” he shouted, shutting Baby’s hood. “What did you think was gonna happen here?”

“Well, I thought-... I just-... I wanted to clear the air,” you stammered. “I wanted to explain.”

“Well, you explained,” he muttered, busying himself with tidying his mess.

You watched him silently for a few moments, trying to think of your next move. You decided to ask the question that’s been on your mind since he left: “Were you really planning on actually telling me one day?”

He let out an irritated sigh, picking up his belongings and moving around to the trunk. “What are you talking about?”

“Were you really gonna tell me?” you repeated, quickly taking a few steps to meet him at the trunk.

“Tell you what?” he huffed, irritation oozing off of him as he slammed the toolbox down.

“How you feel!” you blurted out, taking yet another step towards him.

“The hell are you talking about?” he questioned, feigning cluelessness. Though the way his body stiffened as he idly messed with the stuff in the trunk betrayed him; he knew what you meant.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you replied softly. “Were you?”

“I don’t know!” he huffed, shutting the trunk. “Maybe,” he added, walking away from you once more.

“You said-”

“I know what I said!” he interrupted, clearly irritated. “Can we not relive it? I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well I do!” you argued, exasperated. “Why the fuck else do you think I’m here, Dean?”

“To clear the air,” he sneered, repeating your earlier words as he made his way back to the cabin.

“To tell you I love you!” you shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t choose Sam. How can I choose him when I’ve loved you for years? How can I choose him when my entire world stopped spinning the day you shut me out of your life all those years ago? How can I choose him when I didn’t feel like I could breathe until you finally spoke to me again? How can I choose him, when having to watch you walk away the other day was the most terrifying thing I had to do, because I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back this time? You can put us in any timeline, in any universe, or in any realm, and I will always choose you. I love you.”

You were met with silence for entirely too long, and you watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders as he kept his back to you, standing tense as ever with his head down low.

“Will you just look at me, please?” you pleaded shakily.

As soon as the words left your mouth he spun on his heel and marched towards you, closing the distance between you two in seconds. He grabbed your face in his hands, letting a moment of hesitation pass by before crashing his lips against yours. It was harsh yet delicate, slow but needy. It was gentle and all consuming. His hands strayed from your face, one sweeping to the back of your head to hold you steady while the other slipped to your waist and pulled you close. Your hands found themselves gliding up his arms, resting on the base of his neck for a moment before settling on his cheeks.

When the two of you finally pulled away to catch your breath, it seemed like neither of you wanted to go too far; foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as you both giggled quietly, shy smiles on your swollen lips.

You stood like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's presence in ways you never could before, until your gentle whisper cut through the silence: “Please come home, Dean.”

“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before completely wrapping you up in his arms, holding you closer than ever. “I am home.”

tagging: @winharry

dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika

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supernaturalfreewill · 5 days

Text

You turned and smiled at Dean, the flame thrower dropping to your side. "You're welcome," you said.

His jaw was hanging open and his eyes kept going to the BBQ'd Wendigo on the ground and then back to you.

You laughed lightly at the expression on his face. "Okay... You can pick your jaw up off the floor now, Winchester."

Dean snapped his mouth closed and then gulped. "Will you just marry me already?" he asked, a vague smirk tugging at his lips.

A laugh bubbled out of you that had his heart jumping in his chest. "Maybe. You've never asked me," you said with a grin.

"I haven't?" he said, pacing over to you and rubbing a hand nervously over the back of his neck.

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. "Mmmmmmno," you said, catching his eyes again.

"Should I get down on one knee or—?"

"Is now the best time? Beside the smoking and smoldering corpse of a cannibalistic supernatural creature?" you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, valid point... okay..."

"You can carry the flamethrower back to the car though," you said, holding it out.

He laughed, a hearty one from deep in his chest and it gave you goosebumps. "Of course."

Prompt: "Will you just marry me already?"

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean fluff #dean winchester drabbles #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #supernatural #spn imagines #fanfiction

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 8 months

Text

ring ring

kinktober, day nineteen

a/n: this idea wasn’t originally for these two, but damn if it doesn’t fit super well

summary: “you know, Sam is gonna notice if I’m gone for too long…”

warnings: bf!dean winchester x reader x sam winchester, smut, dubcon, established relationship, love triangle, phone sex, mutual masturbation, toys, dirty talk, having a huge crush on your boyfriend's brother, cheating, kissing, pussyjob, allusion to sex, slight orgasm denial, slight edging

word count: 2483

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“Dean,” you raised your phone up to your ear and peeled your eyes away from the heavy tome cracked open on the table before you, “hi!”

“Hey beautiful,” his deep timbre rumbled warmly, “how’s it going over there?”

“Oh, you know,” you peeked over at Sam who glanced from his similarly hefty book, “slow,” you watched his eyes flicker back down to the page as he got the gist of the casual call, “it’s a lot of research to get through…” shooting your chair back, you stood up, absentmindedly pushing it back into place as you asked, “how about you? Are you still on the road?”

“Nope, I just got here a few hours ago,” your vision lingered on Sam’s long fingers as they ghosted their way down the page he was reading, “I was just about to go over and check the place out,” your teeth tensely seized your bottom lip as you slowly whirled around and took a few paces away. Picking up on your silence, Dean gently poked, “what?”

Hand apprehensively tapping against your thigh, you lowered your voice to admit, “I just don’t like the idea of you being all the way up there on your own…”

“I’m barely a day’s drive away,” you heard him let out a soft sigh.

“But what if something happens?” your feet carried you out into the hallway, the younger Winchester still visible to your wandering eye.

“Babe, I can take care of myself,” he pointed out with a small chuckle.

“I know that…”

“I’ve checked out hundreds of things by myself, this time is no different, it’s just a little ghost, I’ll be fine,” he reassured you. Spine melting against one of the cool walls, you watched as Sam’s hazel glare locked on you as it so often did, effectively causing goosebumps to erupt, ones that didn’t fade in the slightest as Dean then cheekily enquired, “is it because I can’t take care of you from all the way up here?”

Breathy chuckle rolling off your lips, you averted your gaze and humoured him, “well you said it, not me.”

“Who says that I can’t?” you could practically hear the smug smirk through the phone.

“Dean,” your head shook lightly from side to side.

Letting out a groan that made your cunt clench, “love it when you say my name…”

“I am supposed to be doing research,” a laugh bubbled out through your groan.

“So, take a break.”

Casting one last glance back at the tall man sitting at the long table, you couldn’t help but give in with a playful, “I hate you.”

“Sure, you do,” he chuckled sarcastically as you scurried into your room just on the right, “was that the sound of a door closing?”

“It was,” you then purposefully flopped down on the mattress loud enough for the frame to creak, “and that was the sound of me laying down on my bed.”

“Atta girl,” he practically purred, “what are you wearing?”

“You are so cliché,” you giggled, staring up at the ceiling.

“Oh, come on, you love it.”

Exhaling slowly, you counted, “t-shirt and a pair of jeans.”

Humming contently, you then heard him suggest, “why don’t you take those pants off for me?”

“You know, Sam is gonna notice if I’m gone for too long…”

“So? He doesn’t need you to babysit him. Just stop thinking about the research for a bit, just be here with me, relax, you clearly need it.”

Exhaling slowly, you unbuttoned your trousers and wiggled them down your legs, “alright,” you kicked them to the floor at the foot of the bed, “they’re off.”

“Are you touching yourself?” his deep voice tickled your ear and shot straight down to your core.

“Not yet,” your thighs instinctively squeezed together, hips rolling gently as your free hand began to drift south.

“Good, don’t. Not until I tell you to, okay?”

Halting your hand in its tracks, it clenched into a fist as you chuckled, “you’re such an ass.”

“I know, but I’m an ass who can make you cum straight into next week,” he bragged as you reached up to readjust the pillows, mushing them perfectly under your head, “Y/n, relax, shut that beautiful brain of yours off a second and just do as I say, promise it’ll be worth it,”

“Fine, I promise I won’t,” you exhaled with a light eye-roll, “are you touching yourself?”

“Do you know how hard it is not to when listening to your voice?” you suddenly noticed how ragged his tone was, “I just have to think about you and I’m fucking throbbing, baby,” you heard him spit in his free palm before sloppy strokes began to echo through the receiver, a melody alone that made you note just how torturously the ache between your thighs was, “shit,” he groaned shamelessly, “I wish it was you touching me… you fucking playing with me, teasing the shit out of me like you do when you’re sitting on my face… leaking down on my tongue… creaming from just a little kiss…”

Bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you breathed, “Dean…”

“You know what I was thinking about just before I called you?”

“What?” your airy answer rushed out quicker than you’d like. He certainly had you hooked now…

“That time in the car…”

“Which one?” you let out a light laugh.

“That first time in the car. You remember how impatient you were? Couldn’t even wait till we got back to the motel.”

“I wasn’t impatient,” you defended, “you were just a tease.”

“I was a tease? You were the one who climbed into my seat.”

“Well, you were the one who invited me into your seat.”

“Yeah, I was,” you didn’t have to see his face to know the huge smirk that had bloomed, “but it worked, didn’t it? Your legs didn’t stop shaking till the next day…”

Eyes lightly rolling in your skull, you tried not to give him the satisfaction of knowing the immense power he had over you, “you will never let me down for that, will you?”

“I still remember what it was like hearing you moan for the first time… shit,” he brazenly let you hear every last lavish jerk he let himself relish in, “it was so hard not to burst right then and there… I had never heard anything as hot as that before…”

“Dean…” you whined, hips gently rolling though not giving any relief whatsoever, “can I-… can I please touch myself?”

“Why?” he teased, not slowing his own pleasure down one bit, “is this turning you on? Are you getting wet for me?”

“Dean,” you sounded downright pathetic at this point. Yet another thing for the memory banks that he could mock you endlessly about.

“You didn’t answer my question, sweetheart,” he croaked, “reach down and feel for me, but don’t play with yourself, just feel…”

“You are so mean…” you grumbled light-heartedly as you finally slipped your free fingers below the waist of your panties.

“Is that a yes?” he challenged.

“Yes, yes, I’m really fucking wet,” you admitted begrudgingly, nearly whimpering as you retracted your hand, a sinful sheen now glazing the skin.

“Good,” he crooned conceitedly, “now lift up your shirt and play with those tits,” though it wasn’t the place you longed to caress, you still rushed to fulfil his request, “what I wouldn’t give to touch them right now…” your breathing grew more ragged as your hand switched from one to the other in a lewd little massage, “they’re so fucking perfect… so soft, so pretty,” you gave the pebbly nipple right above your heart a harsh pinch, just like how Dean’s greedy fingers liked to do it, “and when you’re lying on your back and I thrust up into you just right, the way that makes them jiggle?” your cunt clenched at the image, “fuck… hypnotize me, why don’t you? Call me your slave because I’ll follow you anywhere…” dizzying breathes flowing from your lips, your boyfriend was only silent a second, enjoying what little you gave him before he finally said, “hey, baby?” a fuzzy hum immediately rushing out of you, “be a good girl and play with that pretty little pussy for me, yeah? Make it feel real good…”

You might as well have been set aflame with turned on you were. It almost felt like you electrocuted yourself when you finally rubbed your aching clit.

“Fuck, Dean!” your form thrashed atop the bed.

“Lower the phone, sweetheart. Let me hear how wet that pussy is,” to which you briefly brought it down to catch more of the lewd soppy sounds echoing throughout the room with every needy caress, “christ, I wish I was there with you…”

Yanking your panties off completely, kicking them to the floor, you swiftly slid two fingers into your quivering hole, “I wish you were here too,” but the petiteness of your fingers caused you to let out a desperate whine, “fuck, Dean, I-…”

“What?” by the sound of his condescending tone it was obvious that he already knew the problem, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“I feel so empty…” you nearly cried as your fingers pumped and pumped but just couldn’t get deep enough to scratch that itch.

“Oh, are your pretty fingers not long enough? Not big enough to stretch that pussy out the way that she deserves, huh?”

“N-no.”

Completely entranced by the melody his own efforts emitted, he promptly muttered, “do something for me then, yeah?”

“Huh?”

“Stop touching yourself.”

“What?” your movements slowed, but didn’t halt completely, “no, no!”

“Stop touching yourself and go get the toy in the bedside table,” painstakingly snatching your glistening digits back, you scurried over the mattress to the table on the right side. Ripping the drawer open, you couldn’t get your hands on the realistic-looking silicone fast enough, “you got it?”

“Yeah,” you crawled back to your previous spot and laid back down.

“Good. Now give it a little kiss before letting your cunt feel it,” you brought the tip of the dildo up to your lips, giving it a gentle little lick before filling up your mouth more, “be nice, treat it like you’d treat me.”

After releasing it from your peck with a pop, slobber clung to it as you lowered it down between your trembling thighs, “oh my god,” your eyes fluttered as you slid it inside, “Dean!”

“That what you needed, babe?” you heard him chuckle.

“Yes, fuck, it feels so good!” squeezing your eyes shut, you pumped it lavishly, “I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last with this.”

“Hold on, just a little bit longer, can you do that for me?”

“Dean,” your plea came out as a moan.

“Fuck, you sound so hot,” he panted, “don’t cum yet, baby, not yet,” obviously being painfully close himself, “shit, I wish I could see you right now, laying there, in your bed, fucking yourself for me, dripping all over those sheets,” your nails dug into the flared base of the toy, “I can’t wait to get home, baby. Feel that pussy clench around my cock again, maybe even keep that dildo close by to plug up your other holes… fucking hell, you wanna cum with me?”

“Yes!” you cried out.

“Then go ahead, be a good girl and cum all over that toy,” removing your grip on the silicone, you briefly drifted your fingers up to give your clit the attention it was screaming for.

But just before you were about to dance your digits back down to give the toy one last pump, it began to move on its own. Snapping your eyes open, you saw none other than Sam, grip firm on the base as he ploughed the dildo in and out of you, giving you exactly what you needed, “oh my god,” your eyes grew wide as they locked with his, though your fingers couldn’t seem to quit their needy circles over your puffy pearl, “oh my god,” holding his piercing gaze, you tumbled over the edge, “fuck!”

Hearing your boyfriend swiftly follow suit, you just kept blinking back at his brother as he slowly pulled the toy out of your clenching cunt, “fuck, that was so good, baby, shit, I came so much over here.”

“Mhm…” you distantly hummed, chest heaving as you watched Sam swipe a finger over the toy, collecting some of your juices before swiftly letting his tongue have a taste.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to get back home to you.”

“Y-yeah,” Sam’s eyes stayed locked with yours as he popped his finger back out, “me neither…”

“Just a day or so more and I’m all yours,” your hazy gaze fluttered down to spot Sam’s girth, freed and throbbing.

“See you then,” you distantly spoke before hanging up and letting your phone drop to the mattress.

Like a crack of thunder, before you even had time to register what it was that you were doing, the two of you clawed the other closer and locked your lips in a fevered kiss. Nails nearly digging through his clothes, it didn’t take long before your fingers enveloped Sam’s cock, the weight making your knees wobbly.

But just as quickly as you had collided like magnets, that’s how fast you pulled back again, “Sam-, shit…” palms planted on his chest, you shook your head in an effort to clear it, “this is bad, we can’t do this…”

“Don’t say that,” he plucked up your chin, “don’t fucking deny what’s going on between us, what’s been there since the very beginning.”

“But, what about-”

“I don’t give a shit about that,” both his hands came up to cup your face, “do you want me? Do you want me as much as I want you?”

Blinking back at him, all you could do was wistfully tilt your head instead of uttering the truth, “Sam…”

“Because if you don’t, if you really don’t, then tell me to walk away and I will,” he slowly inched closer, a hand drifting down to grasp his cock to tease you with the tip that was already so desperately nudging against your core and getting soaked in your want, “tell me that you don’t want this, that you don’t want me…” he parted your petals with his dick, “tell me and I’ll go away…”

Breathlessly, blinking back into his dark gaze, instead of finding the words, you simply pulled him back in and gave him a kiss as confirmation.

A string of saliva still connecting your lips, his nose ghosted against yours as his teasing grew more confident, “you want it, huh? Tell me that you want me.”

“I want you,” you finally uttered after ages of suppressing the fevered desire.

“Tell me again,” he nearly growled, catching your weeping hole at every electric flick through your folds.

“I want you, please fuck me.”

#lea’s writing #kinktober 2023 #dean winchester smut #sam winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x you #supernatural smut #spn smut #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #kinktober

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cosmicanakin · 1 month

Text

Mile High Club

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

Pairing. Dean Winchester x Female Reader.

Outline. You and Dean slip away from Sam and Bobby for a moment to indulge Dean's neediness in the backseat of the Impala.

Warning(s). Smut (P in V – wrap it up folks), Praising, Explicit Language, Semi Public Sex, Pet Names, & Sam teasing both Dean & Reader.

Word Count. 984

Authors Note. I know that I've been slacking with writing nowadays, I'm so sorry. I was—am focusing on myself to better my mental health. But to make up for it, I give you this. So I hope you're taking good care of yourselves & I love you so much. Enjoyyyy!

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Here you were, bouncing feverishly on Dean Winchester’s cock in the backseat of the Impala, his hands gripping your hips as he moaned in pure ecstasy.

The case you were supposed to be working on with Sam and Bobby was the furthest thing from your mind right now. All that mattered was the delicious friction building between your bodies, the way Dean’s thick, throbbing length filled you up so perfectly.

“That’s it, baby,” Dean growled, voice gravelly with lust. “Ride my dick just like that. You’re such a good girl, taking me so well.”

You whimpered, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his shoulders as you picked up the pace, your hips rolling and grinding against him in a desperate rhythm. The sounds of your bodies joining together echoed through the confines of the car, only spurring Dean on further.

“Fuck, you feel so goddamn good,” he groaned, his fingers tightening their grip on your hips. “My gorgeous little slut, riding me so fucking good.”

The praise sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine, and you felt the familiar coil of tension building deep within you. You were so close, teetering on the edge of ecstasy, and Dean could tell.

“Go ahead, darlin’, come for me,” he demanded, his thumb brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Show me how much you love my cock.”

With a sharp cry, you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations, your body trembling as wave after wave of mind-blowing pleasure washed over you. Dean followed closely behind, his hips snapping up into you as he spilled himself deep inside.

For a moment, the only sounds were the heavy panting of your breaths and the occasional contented hum from Dean. Then, finally, he pulled you down for a searing kiss, his hands caressing your flushed skin.

“Damn, Y/N, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. “I could do this all day.”

You chuckled breathlessly, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw. “As much as I’d love to, we should probably get back to helping Sam and Bobby,”you said, reluctantly lifting yourself off of him.

Dean groaned in protest, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs again. “Do we have to?” he whined, his eyes pleading. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You laughed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Yes, we have to,” you said firmly, already starting to redress. “The sooner we get this case wrapped up, the sooner we can come back here and pick up where we left off.”

Dean pouted, but he knew better than to argue. With a resigned sigh, he began to clean himself up, already mentally planning all the ways he was going to ravish you once this job was done.

Bonus Part.

By the time you and Dean finally emerged from the Impala, faces flushed and clothes slightly disheveled, Sam was waiting for you with a knowing smirk on his face.

“Well, well, look who decided to join us,” he quipped, his eyes flickering between you and his brother. “And just where have you two been, hmm?”

You felt your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your mind racing to come up with a plausible excuse. But one glance at Dean’s guilty expression told you that Sam already knew exactly what you two had been up to.

“We, uh, we were just—” Dean began, only to be cut off by the gruff voice of Bobby, who came storming out of the motel room.

“Where the hell have you two idjits been?” he growled, his brow furrowed in frustration. “We’ve been waitin’ on you for over an hour! Sam and I could’ve used your help, you know.”

You cringed, fully prepared for the tongue-lashing you and Dean were about to receive. But to your surprise, Sam stepped in, his expression far too innocent to be believable.

“Oh, I’m sure they were, uh, otherwise occupied,” he said, his lips twitching with amusement. “Isn’t that right, you two?”

Dean shot his brother a withering glare, but Sam only grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. You wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground, your mortification notable.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about, boy?” Bobby demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Sam chuckled, jerking his thumb in your direction. “Well, let’s just say our dear friend Y/N here has been, uh, keeping Dean “company” while the rest of us were working."

Your mouth fell open in shock, and you could practically feel the heat radiating from Dean's body as he shifted uncomfortably beside you. Bobby’s eyes widened with realization, and a gruff, disapproving grunt escaped his lips.

“Oh, for the love of—” he muttered, shaking his head in exasperation. “You two idjits couldn’t keep it in your pants for five minutes, could you?”

You felt the embarrassment coursing through you, and you resisted the overwhelming urge to bury your face in your hands. But Dean, ever the quick-witted one, managed to find his voice.

“Hey, come on, it’s not our fault you two were taking forever!” he protested, his tone defensive. “We were just, you know, passing the time.”

Sam burst out laughing, slapping his knees in amusement. “Oh, I’ll bet you were,” he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just try to keep it in your pants from now on, huh? We’ve got work to do.”

With that, he turned and headed back towards the motel room, leaving you and Dean to face the wrath of a thoroughly exasperated Bobby. As the older hunter launched into a lecture about professionalism and work ethic, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the most embarrassed you’d ever been in your life.

But as you glanced over at Dean, the sheepish grin on his face told you that he wouldn't have had it any other way.

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castiwls · 2 months

Text

labyrinth - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'oh no, i'm falling in love. Oh no, I"m falling in love again'

Requested; @beanysofa

Notes; this song is so cute i love it sm! requests are open!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Oh no i’m falling in love

Falling in love after Jessica had seemed impossible. Just the thought left a queasy feeling in his stomach and an overwhelming sense of guilt. Falling in love would be betraying her, betraying the life they could have had.

He’d never admit it but the thought of love scared him. Everyone he’d ever loved seemed to die or leave and every time it seemed like it was his fault. Sam had pretty much resigned himself to the fact that finding love was something he was simply immune to. While he craved the affection and security that came along with love he knew his love only put people in danger.

And he refused to let anyone else be put in danger due to him. But the world seemed to tilt on its axis when you first appeared in his life. The walls that he’d built over time came crumbling down more and more every day.

The first time he’d realised what was happening was a week after you’d first appeared in his life. Sam had found himself yet again immersed in research when he’d been broken from his concentration by a plate being placed in front of him.

He stared at the plate for a moment before turning his head. You smiled shrugging slightly, “You’ve been at it for hours. You need to eat.” You gestured to the plate before glancing at his laptop. He felt his breath catch slightly as you placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning down to get a better look at the screen.

Clearing his throat he looked back to the plate before him. “You made me a sandwich?” Sam smiled slightly feeling you lean back, your hand still on his shoulder. “Well, I didn’t think you’d appreciate a burger.” You laughed lightly.

Sam let out a small laugh of his own, nodding his head slightly. You’d already noticed his eating habits enough to know what he did and didn’t eat. Did you really pay that much attention to him? The thought left a warm feeling in his stomach. You cared. “Well,” you gave his shoulder a slight squeeze. “I’ll let you continue. But promise me you won't sit here all night? It’s not as productive as you think.” You teased.

“I promise you I won't sit here all night.” Sam turned back to face you. You nodded before turning to leave. He frowned slightly at the loss of your touch, feeling the space where your hand had been slowly cool as you disappeared around the corner.

Taking a breath he turned back to his laptop. He started at the sandwich again, feeling a smile pull at his lips. The thought of you paying attention to him enough to realise things such as what he ate and his less-than-healthy sleeping habits left him feeling slightly giddy inside. A feeling he hadn't felt since…since Jess.

As he sat the realisation of what these feelings meant slowly dawned on him. He was doing the one thing he’d promised himself he’d never do again.

He was falling in love.

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Over the last few weeks, Sam had come to the realisation that he was in fact falling in love, and he was falling fast. He’d learned from a young age that he was someone who seemed to love too hard. Someone who fell hard and fast and then had to deal with whatever the fallout was after.

But you were someone that he couldn’t help but fall for. He knew it was a bad idea. Falling in love always seemed to be yet his head and his heart seemed reluctant to agree.

Sam stiffened slightly as you fell onto the couch beside him. Your leg pressed against his as your head fell back against the couch. “Tired?” He smiled tilting his head down to look at you. You let out a breath sending him a slight smile. “You have no idea.”

You stared at the ceiling for a moment and he couldn’t help but slowly trace your features with his eyes. He barely noticed the smile that grew on his lips as he watched you blink at the ceiling.

Just being close to you was enough to raise his mood and make his day better. Suddenly your eyes moved to his and he felt his breath catch. A slight blush crept on his cheeks as he realised he’d been caught staring.

Much to his surprise you said nothing, you didn’t even tease him you just simply held his gaze. After a moment you let out a quiet sigh, your head dropping to his shoulder. You both stayed quiet, as his gaze stayed on you.

Slowly his body began to relax more into the couch. Cautiously his hand slowed moved until it brushed against yours. He’d noticed the way your breath had slowly begun to grow slower as you’d sat and was slightly surprised when your hand wrapped around his.

His eyes moved down to where your hands were joined and his blush seemed to grow even more. Laying his head against yours he felt his own eyes begin to droop.

He knew he was done for. You’d waltzed right into his life and seemingly claimed his heart against his will and there was nothing he could do. The realisation had hit him like a truck that he was falling in love again. But maybe he was okay with that, maybe he was okay with falling in love as long as it was with you.

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deanbrainrotwritings · 3 months

Text

— A GUIDEBOOK FOR SINNERS TURNED SAINTS

SUMMARY : dean uses the sexiest seduction methods to get laid when he keeps getting cockblocked by his gaming girlfriend

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : smut, fluff, angst?, dean being cute, gamer girlfriend problems, unprotected sex (dean wears condoms in the show, you should too), oral sex (f. receiving), filth, dean being really horny, reader being really horny, cowboy dean = cowboy kink, squirting, slow and possibly over-descriptive?, two people being insane for each other? >:)

WORD COUNT : 8.8k

A/N : title from a jamie’s elsewhere album. this fills the square for “first one to make a noise loses” on my @jacklesversebingo card.

Today was a lazy day. In fact, the whole week was eventless in terms of monsters going out to eat people. Sam took the time to meet with Eileen, staying with her in a much nicer hotel than they were used to sleeping in. Dean and Y/n choose to stay in and enjoy having the Bunker all to themselves.

For Dean, it meant eating junk food, sleeping in and sleeping late, binge watching shows and having movie marathons, checking up on the cars in the garage, cleaning everything but messing up Sam’s room. For Y/n that meant catching up on the latest season of her favourite video game, playing with and talking to random people to complete group missions and challenges, reading books she’s been meaning to finish, hanging out with Dean and doing whatever he wanted, trying new recipes, and reading the nerdiest articles just to know things.

It was the fourth day of their ‘vacation’, Y/n decided to play while Dean cooked as soon as she cleaned up the Bunker with him. Dean went to her room with a plate of food, the place where she once slept in became an activity room where she worked on her hobbies. Now having Dean’s room to sleep in, his drawers were filled with her socks, underwear, and bras. She wore his shirts as dresses instead of completely taking over his room, having to walk a short distance to get to her room where her clothes, trinkets, souvenirs, and more of her items remained.

“Hey, darlin’,” Dean smiled cutely at her.

“Hey, baby,” Y/n smiled up at him, turning her attention away from her game despite her screen turning red from the damage she was taking. “Oh, yummy,” she murmured, ogling him entering her room in just a pair of black boxers. He snorted at her. “Oh, yummy,” she repeated, this time eyeing the plate of waffles, whipped cream, and fruit--some of it cut into hearts. “Dean,” she giggled, accepting a slow kiss from him when he leaned down with puckered lips.

“What?” he murmured against her lips, smiling as he pulled away. “You died.” She turned away from him and shrugged when she saw the ‘revive’ button on her screen.

“Thanks.” She smiled ignoring her game to admire him, kissing his cheek appreciatively.

“For gettin’ you killed?” She laughed, raising a brow at him.

“Getting shy about the heart-shaped fruits?” She asked, turning away from her computer by spinning her chair slightly to face him completely, and crossing her arms over her chest, staring at him dead in the eyes with a smirk.

“Pff,” he sputtered, staring at the plate in his hands to avoid the cutely decorated plate in front of her and her teasing gaze, but an unmistakable blush brought colour to his ears and neck. She squinted her eyes at him when he turned back to her, her grin widening because she already knew he was bashful for having done something so cheesy. “Shuddup,” he said meekly, smiling with embarrassment.

“Uh-huh.”

He turned away from her, avoiding her. She let him walk away, waiting for him to place his plate on her night stand before getting up to hug him from behind. “Hey,” she laughed, squeezing his waist with her arms.

“Leave me alone,” he laughed, wiggling in her arms until she let him go.

She squeezed his ass playfully, and he stiffened, grabbing her hand--still laughing--and turned to face her. She was faster than him, tugging her arm towards herself so he’d stumble towards her, like a dance, she moved in a circle so his back faced the bed. “Hey!” He protested playfully, the breath getting knocked out of him from surprise when he fell into her bouncy bed.

“Why’d you take off your clothes?” She asked, climbing up on top of him before he could even think about sitting up. His stomach clenched delightfully at the sight of her on top of him, holding his wrists above his head with her small hands. He bit his lip when her bare thighs brushed against the skin of his waist, his cock stirring in the soft cotton of his boxer briefs.

“I… Uh, it was hot in the kitchen,” he lied, his voice deeper than before, coated in desire. She tilted her head, a knowing smirk stretching across her lips.

“Because the kitchen started to heat up from your cooking? Or because you’ve got the nastiest, sluttiest imagination?” She murmured, leaning forward, brushing her lips against his.

“Uh,” he paused, closing his eyes, waiting for a kiss that never came. He opened his eyes to look at what she was doing, flushing with embarrassment when she giggled at him. She released his wrists, resting her hands flat on his chest so she wouldn’t fall on top of him from her laughing fit. He grumbled friskily, large hands grasping her soft thighs to flip her over onto her back. She squealed, clinging to him as best as she could while laughing hard.

“Whoa,” she chuckled, wiping tears from her eyes.

He was busy nibbling her ear, one of his hands pressing against the small of her back as she arched into him, their hips slotting together perfectly for her to feel how hard he was with only the flimsy material of their underwear. He held himself above her with one of his arms resting beside her head, tangling her hair in his fingers. She squirmed at the sensation of his hot breath against her neck and his teeth gently tickling her earlobe, both sensations distracting her from everything around her, including her game that had now kicked her off the map for inactivity.

“Dean,” she whispered quietly, loosening her grip on the sheets to tease the waistband of his boxer briefs.

He began to kiss her jaw instead, brushing his lips teasingly, slowly down her throat until she moved her head to the side to give him more access to her neck, to let him lick gently at the sensitive flesh behind her ear. He breathed her in, the softness of her perfume and the sweetness of her shampoo making him dizzy and weak.

She rolled her hips up against his, encouraging him, her pussy tingling with lust, aching to be touched by him. An exhale shakily slipped past her parted lips. She could easily feel how hard he was through the thin layer of clothes between them, warmth spreading across her skin, her heart thumping loudly, the blood rushing through her body increasing the pleasure he was making her feel.

She continued to move her hips against his, legs parted needily, her grip on his hips keeping her movements hard and steady. He grunted her name against her skin, the feeling of her rubbing herself against him making him needier. He moved his hand from her back to her hip, squeezing roughly. He could feel her sneaky hands slowly lowering his underwear, but he continued to lick at her skin, teeth sinking into her soft flesh, mouth suctioning hard until marks adorned her smooth skin.

“You’re so soft, baby,” he murmured, moving away from her neck to venture down her body, lifting the black shirt up her body. “So warm,” he whispered, kissing the flesh above the waistband of her underwear. “I need you so bad,” he mumbled against her stomach.

“Then fuck me, Dean,” she replied breathily.

He chuckled, trailing open mouthed kisses up her torso, biting and sucking to embellish her skin with possessive marks. He lifted the shirt higher, revealed the soft flesh of her breasts and her hardened nipples. She shivered, her skin prickling from the contrast of his warm breath and the cool air in the room.

“How bad do you want it, baby?” He asked with a smug smile, but he interrupted her by sucking her nipple into his mouth when she was going to speak; instead a strangled moan replaced her words. He grabbed her other breast in his large hand, squeezing it slowly, teasing the sensitive skin of her nipple with his thumb.

“Please,” she moaned, arching her back and slipping her fingers through his soft hair. He only moaned in response, swiping his tongue over her nipple, teeth scraping her flesh, almost painfully pinching her nipple in hopes that it would make her pull his hair. “Fuck, baby, I love your mouth,” she praised, tugging at his hair to bring him up for a kiss.

“Want it?” He asked with a grin, blowing air over her saliva-coated nipple. “Want it on yours?” He teased, kissing his way across to her other breast, giving it the same attention as the other. “Or do you want me to keep it here?” He murmured, circling her nipple with the tip of his tongue, then sucked on it gently. With both of her hands on him, she pulled the hair at the top of his head and dug her fingernails into his bicep, whining. “Want it somewhere else?” He asked, sliding both of his hands down her sides until he was holding her impatient hips still against the bed. His pinkies moved underneath her panties. “Like right here?”

“Fuck, yes,” she whispered.

A loud blaring alarm from Y/n’s phone interrupted him from pulling her underwear off. He looked back at the source with a scowl, but otherwise began to tug her underwear down. She slowly sat up anyway, confused by the alarm she had no memory of setting. Dean ignored the alarm, slapping her thigh so she’d part her legs again and lay down, but she was deep in thought, attempting to remember the reason she’d set the alarm, her face pinched in concentration.

“Oh… shit,” she scrambled up off the bed suddenly, lifting her underwear back in place. Just like that, the need for him to take her dissipated. His mouth fell open in disbelief, perceiving her sudden regained interest in returning to her game.

“Babe,” he scoffed, “seriously?” She looked back at him, immediately apologetic.

“I’m… sorry, D,” she chuckled, “I forgot I’d promised to help with this raid. Raincheck?” She bit her lip, shaking her leg even as she stood.

“How ‘bout you put a raincheck on that and come back to bed with me?” He suggested, but there wasn’t much confidence in his voice or his words.

“Dean,” she started, turning away from him to set up her mic and headset. He groaned, falling back into the bed. “Eat your breakfast and I swear I’ll make it up to you,” she offered, still with her back facing him. He sat up and glared at her, then smiled innocently when she turned back to raise a brow at his silence. “Don’t look at me like that!” She pouted, his lips parted and he was ready to argue. “Don’t lie to me! I know you,” she cut him off, turning away and sitting back in her seat with an exaggerated huff.

“Cockblock,” he murmured, playfully.

“Shut up,” she retorted, smiling.

Dean groaned, long and childish, before doing as she told him to do. He peeked over her chair to watch her play and grumbled begrudging words under his breath when she laughed at something one of her teammates said. He whined loudly again and she turned back just to raise a brow at him.

“I’m gonna make you pay,” he mouthed to her. She squinted her eyes and shook her head, turning her attention back on the game. Dean opened the laptop on the bed and dug into his food halfheartedly, looking for something to watch with no interest in actually finding something.

Occasionally, Dean would glance up from his plate to see that Y/n’s character was standing still behind a building while she ate, then she’d stop eating to move her character or to shoot at someone that was about to kill her. He wondered how long it would take for her to get the raid done, hell, he even considered learning how to play just to be with her.

Dean waited for half an hour before shutting his laptop and placing it on the nightstand. He stared boredly as Y/n planned out the next encounter and what each person had to do to succeed. He sighed and took his plate, checking Y/n’s desk for hers, which was also empty. Dean pressed a kiss to the top of her head before making his way out of her room.

Dean busied himself with washing the dishes, making sure to do it slowly, but it only gave his mind the chance to go to the gutter.

He remembered a few times when he’d licked whipped cream off her naked body, or when she’d licked honey off his. It was like his mind was working against him, forcing him to relive the way she tasted, the way she felt so soft beneath him, how hot she looked when she rode him, all of their trysts swam around his head, even the daring things they’d done suddenly came to the front of his mind.

Like that time Sam went on a hunt with Eileen and Dean had decided to walk around naked for the whole week. The amount of times he fucked Y/n was legendary, especially the locations they chose. Including right where he was currently washing the dishes. It was the first day he’d decided to go nude, she was washing the dishes from the previous night and he snuck up behind her with his face buried in her neck.

She’d reached behind to playfully smack his ass the way she always did, but was stunned by the feeling of skin. She’d laughed for while and he joked back before grasping her hips, tugging her pink underwear down her legs to stop at her knees, and fucking her. It was domestic, that turned him on the most, remembering her with her hair messy morning hair--sex-hair, really, because they’d fucked the previous night. She was just in his flannel and she looked hot, the way she always did, beautiful. He vividly remembers the way his cum had dripped down her thighs when he pulled out of her.

He moaned softly at the memory, the sound coming out almost whiny.

What was that sex they had the previous night? Well, it was the reason she was washing dishes that morning. He’d gotten up in the middle of the night to snack on something because he got hungry and as he cleaned up, using only a small lamp to see the kitchen, she’d snuck up on him.

He got scared, when she stood still at the entrance of the kitchen just in his robe. Then he laughed when she moved and came into the light, and just like the next morning, she joked back, then he lifted her up on the metal counter, opening the robe to see her wearing nothing, and he fucked her while staring deeply into her sleepy eyes as she clung to him. His robe caught all the cum that spilled out of her and she put it in the washing machine, despite his protests.

He licked his lips at these memories, feeling uncomfortably hot, with his cock hard again.

Sam always scolded Dean for his seemingly high libido, and Dean usually brushed it off because he didn’t always get laid. When they went on hunts, it was hard to find someone willing to have sex with no strings attached. Even before Y/n, it was just an occasional thing, when he saved the girl--if the occasion happened to arise, which it rarely did because he had to be safe about who he was taking to bed.

It was all very complicated. Sex and hunting.

It wasn’t complicated now.

Dean had what he liked to call ‘a healthy appetite for his woman’. It made Y/n laugh, but Sam would grimace, and Cas would squint his eyes and tilt his head in confusion.

Finding the Bunker only intensified his ‘appetite’. And being alone with her in the Bunker made his appetite more intense, all-consuming.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, finishing up with the dishes a little faster. He wanted to find something to do that would take his mind off things. He made a list in his head of things he could do: clean the inside of the Impala, change the oil, shower or take a bath, organise his room.

All that sounded boring enough to him, distracting enough to at least get rid of the raging boner he was sporting. He felt like a teenager again. He shook his head, drying his wet hands with a towel, double checking that the dishes were dry and clean. He grabbed the towel, letting a bit of water trickle over it to dampen it, before walking to his room.

He organised the dozens of papers he had strewn across his desk, fixed the photo of him with his mom, and cleaned away the dust trapped in the crooks and crannies with a partially wet towel he brought from the kitchen. He organised the contents inside the draws, placing the phones neatly in the back, making sure everything was in its own spot so it was evenly levelled.

He went around his room, cleaning the wooden surfaces, organising papers and books into their correct spots. For some reason, Y/n was looking at his porn last night, she mostly giggled while flipping through the magazines. She left that on the green couch.

They’d christened that, too, when he first dragged it to his room. It was pretty small, but perfect for when she was on top and he had his face buried in her chest, leaving her skin warm and damp with his breath, moaning as she bounced on his lap. He should’ve known better than to expect cleaning his room to get his mind off sex.

He picked up the flannel he’d left on the chairs and over the couch, smelling them to check if they needed to be washed. He smiled when he picked up her scent instead of his in the warm cotton of his clothes. He put some of their coats on the little hooks on the wall, checking that they were clear of stains and adding them to the pile of dirty clothes that was growing on the floor by his bed.

He checked every drawer for unnecessary items, like old candy wrappers and receipts, only throwing out the ones that weren’t associated with some good memories. Then, he fixed the contents that did belong there.

He checked under the tables, the chairs, the couch, and his bed for lost items. He found some of Y/n’s underwear and some boring black socks. He unfortunately came across the two large boxes, one filled with sex toys and the other filled with pornographic photos of him and Y/n. He was so tempted to look through them, but resisted and decided to throw out the mouldy burger he kept in his room.

He cleaned out the cupboard over the sink in his room, throwing out expired medication.

He had so much stuff in his room, but he got it all cleaned up and organised eventually.

He grabbed the dirty clothes off the floor and walked to where the washing machine and dryer were, shoving the matching clothes together into the washer and separating everything into piles along the floor. As it washed, he went to the garage to clean up his Baby and change the oil.

He went back and forth, between taking the clothes in and out of the washer, in and out of the dryer, and then to the garage until the Impala was completely clean inside, the weaponry was organised in the trunk, and the changed the oil, which got him a bit dirty. But it was his plan to shower or bathe eventually before heading back to check if Y/n had finished the raid yet.

He knew Baby would lead to some lewd memories, too. Old memories of when they had to make do in his car because they were impatient, but mostly to avoid Sam’s disgust in the times before they found the Bunker. All three of them had to share and it was a hassle having to be quick when Sam went out, while they showered, or when Sam finally fell asleep, having to be quiet. It was hard for Dean to be quiet.

Dean glared down at his erection for appearing again and cleaned up the mess he left behind to finally get cleaned. A cold shower was overdue to shock his body and to get his brain to focus on something else, literally, anything else besides how badly he wanted to sink into his girlfriend’s warmth, with her smooth legs wrapped around his waist, listening to the glorious sounds she makes, and watching how utterly enraptured she looks.

He groaned with annoyance and quickly washed his hands when he got to his room to get some clean clothes without staining it. He was about to walk out, but stopped at the door, considering one method of seduction that he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist.

He grinned and searched his room for the cowboy get-up she loved for him to wear--especially when they roleplayed. It was bound to make her forget all about that game she was so obsessed with. He chuckled and immediately wasted no time to get to the shower, cleaning and scrubbing off grease from his hands and chest, washing his hair and imagining what technique he’d use once he entered her room.

He dried himself off quickly once he stepped out of the shower, messily moving the towel over his hair until it was sticking up in all directions, almost completely dry. He changed first, very neatly flattened the white dress shirt over his chest, tucking it into his black slacks, neatly arranging the bolo tie, and stepping into some cowboy boots. He styled his hair neatly now that it was drier, using gel to hold some of it in place, and finally--dorkily, he grabbed the beige cowboy hat and placed it gently on his head.

He checked the time on his watch, amazed to see just how much time it took for him to get everything cleaned up properly.

He hoped going back to his room to brush his teeth would give her enough time to finish up the raid. He was just stalling. He had no idea why he was getting nervous all of the sudden. They’d done things like this a thousand times before, sometimes he’d do it shamelessly—with people around.

He started to second-guess everything once he got to the hallway leading up to her room. He stopped a few feet away from her door with his hands on his hips, he mumbled reassurances to himself. His heart excitedly thudded in his chest and he was already feeling a blush crawl up his face, burning his ears and neck.

He steeled himself, trying to be casual as he got closer and closer, letting out a heavy, shaky breath that puffed up his pink cheeks. He stepped into the room as if a gust of cold wind would greet him, but she was still focused on the game, the headset was abandoned on her desk, and she was in the strangest position ever.

She was lazily slouched in her seat, but looked amused as her fingers expertly moved across the keyboard, her wrist snapping sharply over the mouse to aim perfectly at her target. Had he not been impatient and irritatingly aroused, Dean would praise her skills and maybe stare for a bit longer because it was really hot.

“Wh…” She paused, when she saw him in her peripheral vision, now dressed, but not in the usual flannel and jeans. “What’s… up?” She asked slowly, bewildered, once she turned her head to get a good look at him.

“Nothin’,” Dean replied quickly, shrugging nonchalantly and stepping closer to her. She smiled deviously and his stomach flipped watching her lean back in the chair, completely abandoning her game.

“Nothin’?” She repeated with a chuckle, “then why are you dressed up?” She blinked up at him expectantly, even turned her whole chair in his direction, rolling forward until she was half a foot away from him.

“Uh, I’m bored,” he shrugged again, then reached behind his neck to rub it.

“Uh-huh,” she smirked, eyeing him from head to toe. His blush deepened, his confidence faltering when she bit her lip libidinously at the sight of him.

“So, it’s got nothin’ to do with this?” She asked, but before he could ask her what she was talking about, she hooked her fingers into his belt loops and tugged him forward. He swallowed to bring moisture back into his dry throat, staring into her eyes, captivated by her boldness when she brushed two of her fingers down the seam of his zipper where his cock was straining against.

“Fuck,” he rasped, breath hitching, staring into her eyes while she continued to tease him. She smirked at the stuttered breaths he took. She could clearly feel how hard he was beneath her small hand, making her pussy clench around nothing. Wetness began to dampen her underwear when his breaths came out heavy and aroused, her name slipping from his lips breathlessly. She cupped him in her hand, gently and apologetically squeezing him through the soft material of his black slacks. “Please, baby,” he begged breathily, closing his eyes. He bit his lip, felt his face and entire body flare up with desire to be fucked.

“I gotta finish this first,” she laughed playfully. His eyes snapped open and he whined, a sound that bubbled up his throat involuntarily, but it sounded so hot, Y/n nearly considered abandoning her game--mid-mission. Instead, she cleared her throat and squeezed her thighs together to stop the pulsing of her clit, giving his ass a proper smack that made him jerk forward slightly, knees hitting her chair.

“You’ve been playin’ for hours,” he whined.

She automatically smirked when he pouted, his bottom lip swollen from having been bitten by his sharp teeth. She was about to argue that she hadn’t as she checked her phone for the time, but was shocked to see it had already been four hours since she’d started playing. Somehow, it felt like she barely got anything done in the game.

Interrupting her thoughts and excuses, he leaned forward with his hand flat on her desk to hover over her. Her head snapped back in his direction and she swallowed at his proximity, her eyes immediately drawn to his pillowy pink lips, her legs practically spreading apart involuntarily when he teased the inside of her warm, bare thigh with his knuckles.

She straightened up in her seat, tightly holding the arm rests of her gaming chair when he cupped her pussy the same way she had cupped him just seconds before.

“Fuck me,” he whispered enticingly, sliding his fingers up her covered pussy, teasingly pressing his fingers into her soaked entrance and her throbbing clit. She clenched her thighs together, stopping him from repeating that manoeuvre, but he still managed to brush one of his fingers over her clit repeatedly.

“Later,” she moaned, grasping his wrist and tugging it out from between her legs.

“But you’re so wet,” he complained, dropping down to his knees between her legs. She squirmed in her seat, blushing with lust, letting him grab the back of her knees to place her legs over his shoulders. He gripped her hips and moved her forward until her cunt was right in front of his face and he kissed her pelvis, then quickly licked her clit over her underwear.

“Oh… shit,” she whispered, feeling a new wave of wetness that left her more soaked than she was seconds before. He hooked his forefinger under her underwear, pulling upwards to tease her clit with the soft fabric. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, missing the triumphant sparkle in his eyes.

“Please,” he whispered, loving the way she pulled him forward with her calves against his back, her toes curling in the teal and yellow giraffe socks he got for her two weeks ago. “Is that a ‘yes’?” He asked smugly when she brought her hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, his breath fanning over her soaked underwear, his mouth salivating at the sight of her wetness darkening the cotton.

“Yes, Dean,” she laughed softly.

He hummed softly, moving her underwear to the side to flick her clit teasingly with the tip of his tongue. Holding her underwear to the side with his thumb, he looked up at her through his thick lashes as he started to go down on her, catching her clouded gaze.

She played with the short hairs at the back of his head, biting her lip in amusement.

“What?” He asked, leaning forward to flatten his tongue over her clit, coating it in his saliva. She waited for a while, appreciating the sight of his pretty face shoved between her legs and the way he licked at her clit.

“I love you,” she murmured. He hummed softly in response, gently sucking on her clit, circling an arm around her hips when she arched her back and moaned.

“I know,” he teased, pulling away momentarily to lap at her dripping entrance. “You love my mouth,” he quipped, his tongue pushing through the spasming walls of her pussy. He pushed his face completely against her cunt, his nose teasing her clit, moaning softly when she squeezed his tongue once it slipped as deep as he could push it inside her.

“That too,” she agreed with laughter in her otherwise breathless voice. She tipped the hat on his head back slightly, exposing him to her again. “Among other things,” she added quietly. Another hum moved through her and her thighs twitched in response to the vibrations it created on her pussy.

He closed his eyes, wiggling his tongue inside her before pulling out and tracing her labia, leaving traces of his saliva behind. He left open mouthed kisses on her sex, his eyes fluttering open attractively, gazing up at her to see how she was doing.

“G.... Dean…” she gasped, longing for more, “please.”

“You made me wait,” he countered, leaning back to pull her legs off his shoulders.

“What? Are you mad?” She teased with a stunned laugh as he grabbed the seam of her socks to slide them off her feet. He gave her a deadpan look in response, but tugged her underwear off nonetheless.

“No,” he replied eventually, dangling her ruined underwear in front of her. “I’ve got my face buried in this sweet pussy of yours,” he smirked. Her stomach clenched with desire and her breath got caught in her chest the way the words sounded so hot coming out of his mouth. She snatched her underwear away from him, blushing, and threw them across the room.

He ignored it, eyes fixed between her legs.

“Look at how wet you are for me, darlin’, practically dripping,” he chuckled deeply, slapping her clit with three fingers.

She jolted in surprise, “fuck.”

“I’ve got other stuff in mind,” he dismissed, standing up to twirl her chair slightly, so the back of it hit her desk, stopping it from moving around too much. He grabbed the hem of the shirt she was wearing and tugged it upwards, letting her take it off the rest of the way, just for her to throw it behind her. It ended up draped over her monitor.

“Like what?” She asked curiously, eyes glued on him as he walked towards the bed to grab the pillow to place it in front of her. He dropped down on it, shifting on his knees to test the way it felt beneath him. She regained his attention by tapping his nose with her forefinger. He scrunched it up adorably, took her hand in his and gave her fingertips a little kiss. She smiled down at him and watched him stand on his knees, leaning forward with two fingers under her chin.

“Have I fucked you in this chair?” He wondered out loud, pecking her lips as she replied with a ‘no’. She smiled, closing her eyes, holding onto the lapels of his black suit to steady herself. His nose brushed against hers, teasing her lips with his soft breath. “Have I fingered you in it? Or eaten you out?” He kissed her in between each question, dropping his hand from her chin to knead her thighs.

“No,” she whispered, her body tingling pleasantly, vibrating with longing.

He hummed softly, easily pushing his tongue past her lips, and lifted her thighs to position them over the armrests of her chair. She moaned softly, tasting the fresh mint of toothpaste on his tongue. She slid her hands up his chest, into his soft hair to carefully tug at the short strands without disturbing the hat at the top of his head. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, vaguely aware of his fingertips brushing along the inside of her thigh.

He quickly popped his thumb into his mouth, covering it in spit before pressing his fingers against her skin as he reached to find her clit between her damp folds with his thumb. Her stomach twisted, aching for more, but she accepted what he gave her, relishing in the gentle touches to her cunt, in the way he kissed her breath away, slowly sucking her tongue, and heatedly licking into her mouth.

His wet thumb moved over her clit, rubbing up and down languidly, then in circles while her walls squeezed around nothing. She moaned into his mouth needily, withdrawing her tongue from within his mouth to suck and bite at his plump, bottom lip. He smiled and circled two fingers around her entrance, gathering the wetness that made her folds glisten.

“Holy--” she gasped suddenly, pulling away from his mouth when he subsequently pushed a finger into her. He used one of his arms to push her thigh against the armrest, keeping her fairly still.

“There ain’t nothin’ holy ‘bout what I wanna do to you, sweetheart,” he murmured, dropping wet kisses over her chest. He smirked against her cleavage when her pussy squeezed his finger in return, so he pushed another one into her. Slowly, he stretched her open, the burn of his thick fingers, the way he pushed them deeper and deeper until his knuckles stopped him turned her on more and more.

He stopped kissing her breasts, licking his lips when he gave her a quick glance from under the rim of his cowboy hat. He tipped his chin downward to watch her stretch around his fingers, his cock now painfully hard. When he brought his fingers out slightly, they reappeared drenched in her arousal, making it easier for him to scissor them back into her. He bit his lip roughly, listening only to her broken breaths, faintly aware of her rigid grip on his forearms.

She squirmed restlessly in the chair, her clit aching for attention.

He curled his fingers inside her, pressing into her and stroking her inner walls so she could feel the sparks of her impending orgasm. He shifted his arm against her thigh to hold her hip in a rather harsh squeeze that she found more pleasurable than uncomfortable.

“Touch your tits, babe,” he instructed, leaning forward so the edge of his cowboy hat teased her skin, depositing little kisses down her stomach to take her clit between his lips once again. She cried out softly, hands cupping her breasts, on her way to pinch her nipples and roll them between her fingers. Her hips bucked against Dean’s strong hold so he gave her the freedom to move as much as she wanted.

He licked ravenously at her clit, drawing circles on and around it, and simultaneously, he pushed a third finger into her. He let her roll her hips up, following her lead as he sucked and expertly caressed her clit with his tongue.

“Dean,” she mewled. He grinned against her pussy, moaning in acknowledgment, speeding up the thrust of his fingers, delighting in the obscene squelch of her cunt each time he pushed them into her.

Her back arched further and her head fell back against the chair as her orgasm approached. He continued sucking her clit earnestly, his nose pressed against her silky skin, grunting the instant her pussy throbbed around all three of his fingers. He moved his arm to wrap around her hips, pressing her closer to his mouth, covetously squeezing her flesh to enhance the pleasure she felt from her orgasm.

“Oh… fuck… yes,” she gasped, pushing her hips closer to his drooling mouth, teetering on the edge of never ending pleasure. One of her hands released her breast to press against the back of his neck, holding his face impossibly close to her pussy. Her free thigh found its way back over his shoulder as powerful pulses of pleasure made her body shake and shudder.

“Dean,” she praised passionately, followed by a few, more desperate whispers of his name and drawn-out curse words that ended only when she was coming down her high.

Dean carefully pulled his fingers out of her, abandoning her sensitive clit to look up at her whilst she caught her breath, her heartbeat slowing down. He licked his swollen, wet lips, smiling at the sight of her glowing and blissed out semblance.

He murmured her name and kissed her across her hips, massaging the thigh she had placed over his shoulder. He splayed his hand across her back and kissed his way back down to lick her clean, murmuring adorations against her skin. She hummed fondly, eyes slowly fluttering open to gaze at her lover.

“Are you gonna remember how I made you cum in this chair?” He jested quietly, then rubbed his fingers together, playing with her cum. He popped his fingers into his watering mouth, pretty, green eyes now staring up into hers.

She laughed and nodded, biting her lip.

“Awesome,” he grinned, standing up weakly to stretch.

She straightened up in her chair, beholding him and all the effort he put into seducing her. She nibbled on her lip, letting him stretch and relax before getting up and practically jumping him.

“You’re awesome,” she murmured, bringing him down for a passionate kiss. He moaned in surprise, brows rising before he relaxed into the rapturous kiss. Her nimble fingers worked on quickly unbuttoning his shirt, moving forward with him so he got closer to the bed.

She pulled away, tongue sliding along her wet lip to watch him sit down and work on getting the belt off. She climbed into his lap, nibbling on his jaw, moving his hands away to finish unbuckling his belt herself, rolling her hips against his throbbing erection before he could get his hands on her.

“Fuck, babe,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around her so tight she couldn’t even move. “Lets play a game,” he suggested suddenly, releasing her when she pulled back and tilted her head at him, perplexed. “First one to make a noise loses.”

“Loses?”

“The right to cum,” he added.

“When you’re this hard?” She asked, making her point by grinding her hips roughly against his. He groaned out a laugh, deep and hot.

“I’m not the one who’s ovulating,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. She gasped dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest. He held her hips securely to keep her balanced on his lap as she bantered with him, a grin on his face.

“Rude,” she accused playfully, “how dare you use that against me?” She giggled, then wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down and over to the side so he laid on top of her. He let her manoeuvre him and chuckled. “You’re gonna keep this on, right?” She asked, lightly flicking the beige hat on his head so it moved slightly, but didn’t come off.

“If you really want me to.” He kissed her cheek tenderly.

“I dunno,” she pondered, “I kinda like you naked, too.”

“Kinda?” He pouted, biting her jaw.

She took the hat on his head and threw it over to her chair, “I really like it when you’re naked, too,” she corrected herself with a loving smile, eyes sparkling.

“I like it when you’re naked,” he murmured, rocking his hips against hers. She bit her lip hard, trapping a gasp. “We were right about here earlier, weren’t we?” He asked seductively, dropping a quick kiss on her lips.

The smirk stretching across his face gave away that he knew what he was doing to her. She only nodded in response, focusing on shoving the suit jacket and white dress shirt over his shoulders at the same time. He chuckled at her urgency, standing on his knees between her parted legs to shrug them off calmly.

She narrowed her eyes at him, shimmying down to begin unbuttoning his pants, zipping them down with one hand and pulling the belt out of the loops with the other before he even got the either article off his arms.

“Baby,” he laughed, grabbing her thighs and pulling them above his, “slow down.”

She frowned playfully, “I don’t wanna slow down.” She put her hands on his hips and under his shirt, thumbs tantalisingly brushing against the warm skin of his hip bones.

“Oh, so, now you want me really bad,” he teased, voice heavy with lust. He leaned back slightly to take her in with her legs spread open over his thighs, soft hair haloing her head, a blush glowing across her cheeks. As he admired her silently, she bit her lip at the way his t-shirt stretched across his chest and broad shoulders.

“I always want you really bad,” she rebutted lustfully, slowly lifting the white t-shirt up his torso.

“Don’t worry, beautiful, Imma fill you up real good,” he promised in a hushed voice, pulling the shirt over his head, then getting off the bed to pull his slacks and boxer briefs down his legs. “Don’t forget… you can’t make a sound,” he reminded her, crawling back up her body.

“As long as you play fair….” She murmured, bringing him down for a kiss with a hand behind his head. Fingers threaded through his hair and he laughed deeply, dipping down to kiss her.

“I never play fair,” he mumbled against her mouth.

Before she could react, he bit her lip and shoved his tongue into her mouth, licking and sucking fervently, hoping to draw sounds from her that would make her lose the game he proposed before he even got started.

She squirmed underneath him, a whimper of pleasure bubbling up her throat, but poking his ribs made him pull away from her swiftly, “asshole!”

He laughed breathlessly, leaning on his side, still laying between her legs with his cock leaking and hard against her tummy. He held himself up with his arm resting beside her head and brought his freehand to her face, brushing soft strands away from her grumpy face.

“I had to try,” he chuckled, tracing the side of her face.

“I should.. just… get up and walk away,” she threatened playfully, putting a finger on his lips when he tried to dip down to kiss her again.

“Hey, come on, babe,” he whined.

She laughed at him, “just fuck me, pretty boy.”

He pretended to consider her words, slowly sliding the two fingers on her jaw down to her neck, between her breasts, and along her stomach. Her heart jumped and she clenched her jaw while she watched his eyes follow the path of his fingers moving over her body. “I can do that,” he smirked, captivating her in his alluring gaze.

She grabbed his chin, angling his face towards the light of the lamp, her eyes soft and tracing over the beautiful features of his face, from the gorgeous curl of his golden eyelashes, to the now-pink background where his freckles were splattered along artfully across his nose and cheeks, to the edges of his utterly breathtaking face. His brows pinched together curiously and his swollen, soft, pink lips parted momentarily before closing, his green eyes shyly shifting away from her face.

“Not like this, though,” he murmured, breaking her trance. She hummed mindlessly, eyes flickering up to his, his words confounding her.

He looked at her again and then grinned mischievously, standing up just to manhandle her until she was laying on her stomach. She laughed and squirmed, looking at him from over her shoulder, but just as she was about to get on all fours, he pressed his large hand to the small of back, keeping her in place.

“Wait,” she said quickly, eyes widening in realisation when he started to angle himself between her legs. “No! You cheater,” she laughed. He snickered playfully, gripping her thigh and sliding it up to the side with her knee bent to have more access.

“I aim to please,” he jested, taking his cock and teasing her dripping entrance with the soft head.

“Yeah, yourself,” she quipped. He snorted, observing the smear of his precum over her clit and inner labia. She didn’t move away or stop him, so he continued to tease her, sliding his cock down to tap her throbbing clit, but she bit down on her lip painfully, sounds straining to escape her throat.

She screwed her eyes shut as if it would help her concentrate on anything other than the way he teased her and gripped the sheets beneath her hands tightly. After gathering enough of her slick, he started to jerk himself off, coating his throbbing cock—and subsequently his hand—in her arousal.

He panted heavily and draped himself over her back, depositing loving kisses along her shoulders and neck. Still, nothing could prepare her for the way he thrusted into her. She was so wet, he didn’t even meet any resistance, and he could feel every inch of his cock stroke along the inside of her tightening walls, deeply penetrating her.

“Jesus Christ,” she moaned involuntarily.

“Uh, no, it’s Dean, actually,” he chuckled, then slowly started to pull out of her, and paused. “By the way, I, uhhh, think you just lost.” He thrusted back into her roughly and she moaned again, cutting off her sentence before it even began, but he knew it was probably gonna be ‘fuck you’ or something else along those lines.

He muffled a deep groan against her shoulder and roughly grabbed her hip to keep her still as she squirmed and whined for more. Blunt nails dug into her flesh and she whimpered with each thrust, toes curling every time the soft head of his cock brushed and pressed against her cervix.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, nuzzling his face into her neck. Her stomach clenched at his words, his low groan causing a flutter to grow in her lower abdomen, all the while her heart skipped a beat and her breath swirled around her chest ecstatically when his lips brushed softly against her pulse.

“Please,” she whimpered, reaching down to place her hand over the one he had on her hip, holding on tightly. He angled her hips up slightly, picking up the pace, his teeth sinking roughly into the skin between her shoulder and neck.

He grunted softly, skilfully pulling out so only the head of his cock remained inside her and pushing back into her swiftly, over and over. He fucked into her with enough force to knock the wooden headboard into the concrete walls, hard enough to create an erotic symphony with the sound of her soppy pussy taking him and her skin being impacted by his.

His throbbing cock brushed continuously along the inside of her walls and collided deliciously with her cervix, pulling quiet gasps and low moans from her. Neither of them could stand it. The way she felt wrapped around every inch of him made him so dizzy, he felt like exploding. His muscles ached and burned with effort and he couldn’t stop vocalising his pleasure right into her ear or against her damp skin.

He could feel his orgasm bubbling over and he inhaled sharply to keep it at bay just to keep enjoying the sensation of her body being this close to his, to remain in between the moment of overwhelming pleasure and exquisite torture forever.

Still, he couldn’t resist the temptation of letting go and spilled into her with a long groan of her name. He deliriously praised and worshipped her as he pressed deeper, the warmth of his semen filling her insides.

Her walls clamped down on him, her own orgasm looming over her, but even this mindlessly blissed out, she denied herself pleasure for the sake of their game. The heat of his cum resting inside her made her moan, a sensation she began to enjoy since they became ‘serious’.

He had stilled temporarily, waiting to empty himself into her as profoundly as their bodies permitted before slowly rocking his hips into her again. Once again, he venerated her quietly before pulling out and collapsing breathlessly beside her, his rapidly beating heart returning to its original rhythm.

He gave her ass a playful smack and smiled lazily when she giggled. “You didn’t come,” he murmured, watching dreamily as she turned to face him, and scooted into his side to drop kisses along his collarbone.

“I lost the right to,” she chuckled, her lips brushing against his neck to suck a mark on his pulse point.

He moaned softly, snaking his arms under her waist, wrapping around to hold her closer. She lifted her thigh over his hip, pressing herself against him completely, ignoring the warmth of his cum as it dripped out of her. She kissed across his jawline, nibbling gently, and finally claimed his soft lips.

“I can’t get enough of you,” she murmured, straddling him. She pressed her chest against his and his hands held onto the sides of her knees fleetingly, then slowly slid upwards. His fingers pressed into her flesh, blunt nails scraping along her silky skin. He squeezed her hips and moved his lips against hers, tongues meeting languidly past parted lips, licking and tasting.

“That’s just ‘cause you’re ovulating,” he mumbled against her mouth, his hands smoothing up her back to pull her closer. “You usually can’t stand me,” he teased between kisses, chasing her mouth when she pulled back with a playful frown.

“Right,” she started, a laugh bubbling up her throat. “Between.. loving you more insanely and profoundly than literally anyone else in the entire multiverse… and the possibility of a time ever coming in which I’d destroy every universe for you… where’d me ‘not being able to stand’ you come from?” His eyes flickered across her face, the furrow of her brows, the frown that tugged at her lips.

He enjoyed the weight of her loaded words, the unspoken words and meaningfulness in between the long stretch of silence between them. More than anything, Dean wanted to establish that she meant every word, but his tongue lay heavy in his mouth and his heart palpitated with a resurgence of desire. She waited for him as a million words hung in the air, but Dean remained speechless, elated—even aroused by her explicit and very intense expression.

She closed her eyes when he reached up to play with her hair. “You’re so selfish,” he murmured, pulling her down for a passionate kiss, cupping the back of her head in his large hand. The other hand snuck between their bodies, parting her from him just to reach between her thighs where she was drenched and needy.

Mercilessly, he plunged his fingers into her, moaning loudly as his digits brutally slid in and out of her. His palm slapped against her swollen clit and she cried out against his mouth, burying her face next to his to muffle her moans.

He tugged her hair roughly, forcing her back up and stared rapaciously at her face with parted lips, his cum pooling in his hand and down his knuckles. She fucked herself eagerly on his fingers, brows furrowing in gratification, her nails nearly cutting into the skin of his bicep.

“So fucking greedy for me. Aren’t you, baby?” He asked breathlessly, his gaze moving down between their bodies as she sank down onto his fingers.

“Yes! Fuck,” she shouted resolutely. Her pussy clamped down around his fingers, signalling the proximity of her release, she wanted to collapse on him, weak. His green eyes flickered back up to look deeply into her own eyes.

“Come for me,” he ordered softly, grinding his palm against her clit. “Come on, beautiful… I fucking love you.”

She cried out his name, squirting around his adept fingers. He let her bury her face in his neck this time, astonished and smug as he fingered her through a clearly intense orgasm. He turned slightly to kiss her temple and her head, his fingers gently massaging her scalp while she attempted to calm her stuttering breaths and wild heart.

He removed his fingers from inside her, and grinned at the ceiling, “I love when that happens.”

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thedramaticwriter1 · 3 months

Text

Stitch 'em up

(Dean x Reader)

Summary: An injured Dean comes back from a hunt.

Character count: 2.7k+

Warnings: Blood, a snarky, injured dean

A/N: Didn’t mean to take so long in between posts, sorry not sorry lol

—————————————————————————————————

You sit on the dinning room chair with a cold beer sat in front of you, bouncing your leg up and down. Dean had called about an hour ago to tell you that his hunt was finished and he would be on his way home. The tone in his voice was tight and it had caused your stomach to sour.

“How bad was it?” You had asked over the phone the second he was done talking.

“Piece of pie, sweetheart. As usual” He replied and you heard him grunt in pain as he attempted to lower himself into the front seat of the Impala.

“Piece of pie my ass, Dean. I can basically hear how hurt you are over the phone” you replied, your grip on your phone tightening as irritation and worry coursed through you. He had told you to take a break on this hunt and relax at home, he could handle it himself. As usual, he was wrong.

“Hmm a piece of pie and your ass? Count me in” his voice dropping an octave at the suggestion, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

“Not now Winchester. Just get home so I can deal with you” and with that you hung up the phone.

Another hour you had been waiting for him since that phone call, beer untouched in front of you, starring at the bunker door waiting for him to stride on in. It felt like every minute dragged into a small eternity, each one lasting longer than the one before it. Ages passed by before you heard the rumble of the Impala’s engine and the opening and shutting of its door.

If you hadn’t known he was hurt before, you knew it now. It took him a solid 10 minutes to walk from the impala to the bunkers’ entrance, normally a journey that lasted a couple of seconds.

You watched as he slowly opened the door, hope in his features that maybe you had gone to bed already and he could get his ass chewed out tomorrow morning. Unfortunately for him, he’d get it right now.

His gaze searched the room until he spotted you sitting on the dinning room chair, his whole body slumping in defeat. Like a thief caught in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t even look you in the eye, knowing exactly what he would see.

Worry. Frustration. Fear. Anger. All of which had an equal grip on your mind at the moment.

“What happened?” You asked, not moving from your spot on the chair and not sugar coating this conversation.

The instant he heard your tone he knew he was in big trouble, and what does someone in trouble do? They butter up.

“Sweetheart, have I told you lately how beautiful I think you are?” He responded sweetly, attempting to bat his eye lashes at you while simultaneously trying to hide that he was holding one hand to his obviously injured left side.

“Dean…” you responded while slowly rising up from your chair. Your voice was low and lethal, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

“Seriously, baby. You're the most beautiful woman on the planet..” he says as he smiles at you while attempting to straighten his hunched form. Still he’s trying to cover up his injuries, even though they are plain as day to you.

“Winchester…” you fling the name at him, half way to him. Already you can see red seeping around where his hand is pressed to his side. Your eyes go wide as you realize he’s still bleeding from an injury he received over two hours ago.

“Honestly Y/N, I’m the luckiest man al-“ is all he gets out as he attempts to take a step in the direction of the the hallway that leads to your shared bedroom in an attempt to escape your anger and doubles over as his legs give out from under him.

“Dean!” You yell as you rush towards him, close enough that you're able to catch him under his arms right before he hits the ground fully.

“Alive” he squeaks out pathetically while still trying to smile up at you. Knees on the ground and still trying to flirt his way his out of this.

Ridiculous. You bend down so you're able to reposition his arm to hang around your shoulders.

“Do you think you can walk towards the bathroom?” You question as you try to gauge how injured he really is.

“Let’s try the kitchen instead” he grunts out. This close to him, you’re able to see that he has no visible wounds on his face, but you wince when you notice his lips are a shade lighter than they normally are.

“Alright then, on the count of three. Ready? One, two, three…” you haul up as much of his weight as you can onto your own body and you both stand up straight. You stand there for a few seconds hoping he can get his bearings and won’t pass out on you. After you're confident he can make the small journey to the kitchen, you start walking. Slowly, step by step, you two head for the kitchen, you leading the way incase you need to catch him if his legs give out again.

“I’m guessing you're not gonna let this one slide, huh baby?” He says as you cross the threshold of the kitchen, almost to the table sitting in the middle of the room.

“Pfft, you’ll be luckily if I ever let you hunt again” you respond. Only half joking, but you’ll deal with that later. “I’m gonna sit you down on that chair okay?” You tell him as you near it.

“Sitting sounds good right now” he responds, wincing with each step you guys take. You finally reach the chair and you gently help him lower himself onto the seat. You move around slowly so that you're standing in front of him, still holding onto his shoulders to steady him. After some time, once you know he’s stable enough on his own, you turn towards the hallway and make a beeline to the bathroom in search of the first aid kit. It became a habit of yours to always have it stocked with the essentials, even going as far as having Sam create a fake hospital personnel ID for you so you could make your way into the local hospital and steal some of the supplies, knowing you’d use them eventually.

Rummaging though the cabinets, you finally locate the kit and rush back to the kitchen. Turning the corner, you see Dean resting his head on the table, his hand still holding pressure on whatever wound he has on his left side.

You reach him and grab his shoulder. “Dean, wake up” you say as you shake him awake, your worry only growing as he takes awhile to wake up. His eyes open slowly at your voice: “I'm not sleeping sweetheart. Just resting my eyes for a little”. You know that's bullshit. Who knows how much blood he’s lost at this point.

“I need to see the wound, Dean” you say sternly, not trying to give way to your concern, knowing there is a job to be done here.

“It’s fine baby, I just need a bandaid that’s all” he says as his eyes close again, not even having the energy to look at you while he talks.

“De, I swear to God, if you don’t show me right now, I’ll let you bleed out on this table” you say, having enough of this shit. You’re tired of him downplaying how serious this was, especially because he needed help.

“No, you wouldn’t” he says, knowing that there was no way in hell that you would let that happen, but still. You needed to get your point across. He finally opens his eyes to look at you and must see how worried you are, cause his lips turn down into a small, sad smile before attempting to remove his hand from his side.

“Let me” you grab the scissors from the first aid kit and make quick work of his shirt, cutting down the side near his injury.

“Hey, that was my favorite…” he responds but all protests die when he sees the face you give him. The shirt is the least of your concern.

Slowly and carefully, trying not to aggravate the wound any further, you peel his shirt off of him and throw it to the ground. You’re finally able to get a full view of it and you're unable to silence the gasp that manages to escape your lips.

From the bottom of his waist stretching across his ribs and ending right under his arm pit are five deep gashes, each one worse than the last. Staring at his mangled skin, one monster comes to mind that could inflict this kind of damage.

“Damn it Dean, you didn’t tell me it was a werewolf case you were on” you scold him as you assess the wounds. You grab the gauze and hydrogen peroxide from the first aid and you get ready to begin to clean the gashes.

“Yeah, well I didn’t want you to wo— Son of a bitch!” He yells as you move the gauze you're holding to the first wound, attempting to scrub the dirty and dried blood off.

“Don’t move or it’s going to hurt even worse” you tell him and you try and hold him still enough with your other hand so you can keep working. Eventually you’ve managed to clean out the first gash and it’s already begun to leak out fresh blood from the irritation from the gauze. You know you need to work quickly, not knowing how much blood he’s already lost on the drive here.

One down. Four to go.

“You try not moving while someone burns your skin off” he retorts, complaining about the hydrogen peroxide your applying, trying your best to avoid infection. You don’t even want to begin to think of how dirty a werewolves claws are.

“It doesn’t even burn you big baby” you say as he flinches at you when you begin to clean the second cut.

“I’m not a big baby” he pouts, closing his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but what your hands are doing.

“Just save your strength and hush up” you tell him, knowing he needs to save all the energy he has left and not waste it on bantering with you. You continue working, washing the dirt and debris out of the second gash.

Two down. Three to go.

That becomes your mantra as your mind thinks of nothing else but cleaning these wounds.

Three down. Two to go.

You work in silence and Dean doesn’t try to talk again, the pain being too much for him right now. You also don’t attempt a conversation with him right now, knowing that the only words that would come out right now would be filled with anger and fear, and you don’t think you have the stomach for that right now.

Four down. One to go.

After an eternity, you are finally able to clean the last gash, now taking a look at the true wounds in their bloody glory. “You’ll definitely need stitches for these, De. They're too deep” you surmise. All he does is nod his head and you know that the pain is getting to him. “You want something for the pain?” You question, and move to the first aid kit when he nods his head. You pull out the painkillers and grab the bottle of whiskey that was resting on the table. “Both will help, trust me” you say and you hand him the pills and open the whiskey bottle for him.

He’s slow to move, not wanting to injure himself further. He gradually brings the pills to his lips, then the bottle, taking a few good gulps before handing it back to you.

“Do you want to wait till they kick in before I start stitching you up?” You ask him. He shakes his head slowly.

“Just get it over with” he responds, carefully laying his head back on the table.

And that’s what you do for the next hour. Stitch by stitch, you close the wounds that are scattered across his skin. He’s definitely going to have a few scars, but there’s nothing you can do about that now, and it’s not like scars have ever bothered him before. He even revels in them a little, physical proof of what he’s overcome. Half way through you can tell he’s still in pain, but you notice his breathing has gotten more even, his shoulders more relaxed, and you know the pain killers have started to kick in. You breathe a sigh of relief and keep working. Your mind goes blank as you focus solely on what’s in front of you.

Stitch, blood, stitch, some more blood, stitch, blood.

104 stitches and an empty whiskey bottle later, you finally finish. When he feels your hands lift from him, he stirs a little.

“You done?” He questions you. He slightly slurs his words as his eyes look up at you with his head still resting on the table, waiting for your response.

“Yeah I’m done” you respond as you finish dressing the wound. You finally stand up and look down at him. You're still upset at him for downplaying how injured he was, but seeing him now, some what whole and alive, you can’t help the knee wobbling relief that washes over you.

You reach your hand out and rub it through his hair, savoring the way it feels in your fingers. “I am so incredibly pissed off at you right now” you say weakly, but even as the words leave your lips, your eyes begin to water.

“I know. I’m sorry sweetheart” he responds, dragging his hand up to rest on your hip. “You can yell at me tomorrow, I promise” he says, squeezing lightly.

Your heart clenches at the gesture, and you smile through your tears. “Alright”, you respond as you wipe at your eyes. “Let’s get you to bed” you say as you move closer to him to help him stand up. You’re careful not to rub against his dressed wounds and grunt a little as you stand up with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. With small, slow steps both of you make it to your shared bedroom. You swing the door open with your foot and he turns on the light with his free hand. You make your way to the bed and gently lower him down.

“I’m gonna get you out of these” you tell him, nudging at his jeans, eyeing the blood and grime scattered on them, knowing he’ll be more comfortable if he changes.

“If you wanted me naked sweetheart, you could have just asked” he responds, looking up at you while attempting to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ha-ha, very funny. I’d like to see you try any kind of move right now” you say, turning and walking towards his dresser, searching for a clean pair of shorts to change him in to. While digging through his drawers he responds: “Oh I have plenty of moves”. You look over and chuckle at him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to move off the bed, let alone do anything else. You walk back to him and begin taking his jeans off. Slowly dragging them down his legs, you search for any other wounds, glad to not find any. Once he’s changed, you help him lay under the covers and get comfortable. He’s already asleep by the time you move to the adjacent bathroom to change yourself. Once finished, you lay down with him.

You can’t stop yourself from staring at him, memorizing the already known freckles on his face. You reach to stroke the stubble he’s neglected to shave on the hunt, the movement causing him to stir.

“You know I love you, right?” He mumbles, not completely awake.

“I know. I love you too” you respond, moving to kiss his cheek. “You’re definitely gonna hear about this in the morning” you add, knowing that an argument tonight wouldn’t benefit anyone. You also were too grateful he was still in one piece to be fully upset with him right now.

“That’s alright baby. Yell at me all you want. The sex after our arguments is always the best” he says, grinning with his eyes still closed.

You scoff. “You’re horrible” you say, smiling back at him, knowing he’s exactly right.

#supernatural edit #supernatural x reader #supernatural prompts #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester #spn #dean x you #supernatural dean #angst #fluff #dean winchester x reader

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lokischickadee · 6 months

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I can't spot the difference 🤣🤣

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean x you #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean x reader #supernatural x reader

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alexsoenomel · 4 months

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POV: Dating Dean Winchester

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welldonebeca · 2 years

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A Safe Place to Land (IV)

WC: 1.7k Warnings: Angst. Pregnancy. Tension.

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A Safe Place to Land - Masterlist

You shifted on your feet anxiously as you waited for Sam to arrive, a little awkward and shaky. It's been months since you two saw one another - since you left the bunker - and it was a little anxiety-inducing to meet him after such a long time.

“Y/N?” you heard his voice behind you, and turned to meet Sam.

He was smiling when your eyes met, and your smile only grew in amusement when you saw his face changing in surprise to see you.

“Wow! Look at you!” your kids’ uncle exclaimed and quickly took a hand to his face, covering his mouth, correcting himself, looking shocked with his own words. “Sorry, sorry.”

You just giggled largely, shaking your hand and moving your hand to your belly, seeing he was staring at it.

“There’s nothing to apologise for,” you assured him.

You were, indeed, very aware of how different you looked when you turned to the side.

Sam opening and closed his mouth.

“I couldn’t tell when you were facing that way,” he explained himself, struggling to find words. “You just look so… uh…”

“Big?” you suggested.

Your babies were huge, it was no surprise you looked so stretched out.

“Pregnant,” he looked at your face. “Very pregnant.”

You laughed, glancing at his hands, realising Sam was trying his hardest not to reach for you, to keep his hands to himself.

“Good thing, then, because I am pregnant!”

He looked at your face and then at your belly, completely in awe.

“Do you want to touch?” you asked, softly. “The boys love kicking.”

Sam’s eyes twinkled at your question and he nodded, cheeks reddening as he blushed, and you took his hand, gently placing it at the spot on your belly where you knew one of the baby’s foot was.

“Talk to them,” you whispered to him.

He looked at your face and then at your belly, crouching a little.

“Hi, babies,” he spoke gently. “I’m… I’m your Uncle Sam.”

You felt a movement inside you, and Sam gasped just as you felt your boy kicking him on the hand.

“Hi,” he exhaled, sounding emotional. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Sam looked up at your face, and you could see his eyes filled with water, as if he was about to cry.

“Come on, Sam,” you caressed the back of his hand. “We can have a crying session after the appointment, when we are in the car park.”

He laughed, and you released him from your hold, letting him go, but Sam held your wrist.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked. “Before we go in?”

You nodded, and he sniffed, blinking his tears away.

“I was thinking,” he cleared his throat. “And… you know, we know Dean doesn’t… you know.”

You looked down, breathing out and trying to keep your composure.

“He doesn’t want the kids,” you remarked.

Sam looked away for a moment, embarrassed, before raising his chin.

“They need a dad,” he affirmed, not leaving space for any questioning in his statement. “And a dad is someone who raises you, and loves you, and cares for you, not just someone who gives you DNA.”

The reminder hurt you, stinging your heart and your eyes.

“Sam…” you sighed.

“I know you can do it alone,” he spoke quickly. “But you don’t have to, and I don’t want you to do it alone.”

You watched his face, the feeling you’d had days ago only growing inside you.

You knew what Sam was about to offer - it was obvious at this point.

“Let me be their dad,” he whispered, nearly pleading with you. “Let me give them that.”

Your shoulders fell at the offer.

Yes, you wanted your kids to grow with a father, to have a second parent - and more than just you - to go to when they needed someone to hold them and help them through life.

And you wanted that man, that dad, to be Dean.

But a dad was someone who cared for you, and loved you, and - above all - wanted you.

And Sam was all of that.

What kind of mother would you be if you even thought of denying that offer? What kind of person would you be if you denied them the love, affection and dedication Sam wanted to give them?

“Are you sure?” you asked.

In the back of your mind, in the depths of your heart, you knew Sam would never be Dean. But maybe that was for the best. Children always know when someone doesn’t want them around, and Sam would never beg you to be part of your children’s lives if he didn’t want that.

“Absolutely.”

You shook your head, knowing too well that this wasn’t the only issue.

“I don’t think Dean…” you tried to argue.

“Dean is irrelevant,” Sam spoke.

You looked at your face, and he reached for your hand, squeezing it.

“If my brother doesn’t want to step up, that is his problem,” Sam affirmed. “You were family even before the twins, and they are family too. Family stays together, and if I have to choose, I’ll choose them.”

You smiled, and smiled when Sam wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you for a long moment and kissing your cheek.

“Alright,” you patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s go before we are late, come on.”

You two walked into the room, and the reception was empty, with only a nurse waiting for you.

“Good afternoon, Ms Smith,” the nurse smiled at you. “And this must be Doctor Smith.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, turning to you with surprise on his face.

“I mentioned your PhD,” you told him, trying to look convincing and a little embarrassed. “I know it’s new, but… I’m just very proud of you.”

Your friend smile, and kissed your temple.

“Thank you, baby,” he sighed, and turned to her. “Yes, I’m Doctor Smith.”

The older woman who’d been accompanying you since you moved towns smiled.

“I’ll call you two in soon.”

You two sat down together, with Sam squeezing your hand, and you smiled once he touched your belly.

“Hey…” he whispered, caressing your belly. “I… hm… I’m dad...” he spoke hesitant, testing the word. “And I’m glad I’ll finally see you.”

You closed your eyes, aching in your heart as your boy kicked and punched, happy to hear him.

The name, though, hurt you very much, because all you could think about was Dean, wishing it was his hand over your belly. All you could imagine was having Dean touching your belly, kissing it and talking to your sons, excited to meet them.

But they had a dad, even if Dean didn’t want to be it. They had Sam, who already loved them deeply.

And you had to get used to it.

“Have you thought of any names?” Sam asked, taking your attention back to him.

When you looked at his face, he was waiting for your answer, and you shrugged.

“Not really,” you told him. “I haven’t settled on anything yet.”

Sam tilted his head, a little curious.

“What is in your mind?”

He rested a hand on your belly.

“I thought about Michael and Gabriel because of my father and my uncle,” you told him.

Yes, your father and your uncle - his brother - were named after the angels, to parents who were very well versed in the supernatural world, but didn’t know their sons’ namesakes weren’t very good people.

“But we both know why I can’t name them that,” you remarked, scoffing.

Sam chuckled.

"Well, Gabriel isn't that bad," he pointed out.

You frowned a little.

"Didn't he put you in that time loop?" you asked. "Where you lived the same day over and over again?"

Sam cleared his throat.

"Yes. I had forgotten about that."

You chuckled, and Sam shook his head.

"What about Bobby for one of them?" he suggested. "Dean would... I mean, Bobby was like a dad for us, he was better my own dad used to be."

You moved a hand down your thighs, not wanting to look at Sam.

Yes, Bobby was a good name.

Bobby for the men who raised one of his parents, and Gabriel for your uncle, the man who raised you even when he didn’t have to.

“Mrs Smith?” the nurse walked to the room you’ve been waiting in. “You can come inside.”

Sam stood up and helped you to the same, letting you walk into the room before he did so himself.

Your doctor stood up, smiling charmingly at you.

"Mrs Smith, it's great to see you again," he exclaimed, putting his hands together. "And doctor Smith."

He stood and shook Sam's hand.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Smith," he smiled largely. "And congratulation on your PhD!"

"Thank you," Sam rested a hand on your back, seeming a little tense.

"You can do with Nurse Jones to take a blood sample," he instructed. "We will wait for you right here."

Sam nodded slowly, not looking like he was very much convinced, but followed along with the Nurse, and your doctor smiled.

"I'll take your blood," he told you, turning to pick up on his equipment. "We'll be quick, and when your husband is back, we can go ahead and check up on those little blessings."

You looked away as he prepared your arm, not a big fan of needles, and smiled to yourself at the thought of Sam finally seeing his nephews, and barely felt the needle prickling you.

You blinked when you felt yourself growing dizzy and light-headed, turning to your doctor and realising he wasn't even by our side any more.

"Hey," you called him. "I'm feeling a little off."

Your doctor rushed to you.

"Let's lay you down," he instructed, moving quickly to lay you on the bed, and your eyes were heavy when you felt something tightening around your wrists.

"Y/N!" Sam yelled your name.

You felt completely tense, squirming, but you were bound to the bed.

"Just rest, Y/N," your doctor instructed, cooing you.

You opened your eyes, and all of the air left your lungs when you saw his eyes, deep and fully black.

"Everything is going to be alright."

. . .

“A Safe Place to Land” was posted on Patreon on February. To read the whole story before anyone else and have access to exclusive works and early access to my stories, subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month!

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @letsdisneythings @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega

Forever SFW tags: @newtospnfandom-blog @thewinterhunter @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme? @fandomlover2001? @heartislubbingdubbing Supernatural tags: @its-daydreamer23 @imagefanfictionlover @imagefanfictionlover @smalltowndivaj @tayrae515 @afanofmanystuffs @oneshoeshort @andkatiethings @wakanda-sometimes @akshi8278 @xoxabs88xox @izbelross @calstielwinchester @isabelle-faith @flamencodiva @lyarr24 Supernatural SFW tags: @daft-not-punk @chloe-skywalker @teenwaywardasgardian Dean taglist: Open. A Safe Place to Land: Open.

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