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welldonebeca · 2 years

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A Safe Place to Land (Epilogue)

WC: 1k Warnings: Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Babies.

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A Safe Place to Land - Masterlist

Dean watched the two boys in the hospital crib by the side of your baby, in awe with the two sleeping infants who you'd just bravely pushed out of yourself.

He was a dad.

You were asleep just as well, drained after a long labour, but he couldn't close his own eyes.

They were so beautiful, so small.

He raised his head when the door opened by his side, and Sam stepped into the room, looking at him very excitedly.

"Hey," his brother spoke gently.

"Sam," you spoke softly, and Dean turned to see you sitting on the bed.

It'd been a bit of time since you two had seen him.

Dean had moved in with you after you two had considered your home a way better place to raise the kids, and he was enjoying that different life very much.

He woke up with the sun on his skin, warmer and brighter than the bunker had ever been. There was a different comfort in just living in a house that he didn't even remember feeling before.

So maybe that little break he'd taken from hunting to take care of you and the babies really could become something more.

Perhaps it could become a whole life in comfort and peace.

"Come on," he smiled at Sam. "Come see them."

His brother strode to his side, and his eyes were shining when he leaning to look at the sleeping boys in front of Dean.

"I'm sorry I took so long," he looked at him and then at you. 'I was looking for a nice gift, but I couldn't find anything."

His brother had all of the baby gifts they sold in the hospital shop, from balloons to teddy bears, and a bag full of things Dean couldn't quite see.

You just chuckled from the bed.

"Just help clean the house for the first 12 weeks, and we are fine," you told him. "We'll have our hands a little full."

The two brothers smiled, and Dean's eyes quickly averted to his babies when he realised one of them were opening his eyes, shaking a little hand in his direction.

"Hi baby," he spoke softly.

His boys were full cheeked and very hairy, and he could clearly see how they had your hair and eyebrows.

"Which one is this?" Sam asked.

He looked at you and then at the kids.

The two of you had spent a few days working on the name of the babies. Bobby was certain, and while you had thought about honouring your uncle and father, their names weren't exactly a good memory for anyone in your family - your father was named Michael, for fuck’s sake. And he wasn't about to let his kids be named after any angel except Castiel.

But now that the babies were born, only a single name was ringing in his head.

When his brother was a baby, his cheeks were always flushed pink, and now his sons' cheeks were just like that, blushing adorably.

"I chose Bobby's name," you told Sam. "So we thought it was only fair that Dean chose the other one."

Sam nodded, and when Dean looked at you, you were smiling.

"But I don't think he landed on anything yet."

He chuckled.

"You know, I think I just did," he confessed, reaching for his son and caressing his little hand.

You watched him with a little bit of surprise, and Dean looked at his brother.

"He is a dead ringer for you," he remarked, smiling when his boys squeezed his finger. "Look at him. He looks just like you as a baby."

Sam scoffed.

"Come on," he shook his head. "They look just like you!"

Dean shrugged.

"Dunno," he chuckled. "He's still named Sam, though."

When Dean looked at him again, his brother was so shocked that his mouth was open and his eyes were wide.

"What?" Sam repeated.

He just smiled more, caressing his son's hand as he watched him with his bright green eyes.

"Little baby Samuel," Dean spoke gently, seeing how Bobby was still asleep. "The curious one of the duo."

He ignored the little sniff from his brother and when his eyes moved to you, you were smiling at the two of them, and he stepped away from the kids, letting Sam sit on his armchair and smiling a little as his brother just leant closer to the babies, watching them in awe.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked you, covering your hand with his.

"Like I just gave birth to two huge babies," you chuckled.

Dean furrowed his brow to you.

"Huge?" he asked. "They are so small!"

"To you, sure," you agreed. "To me? Come on."

He chuckled.

Alright, maybe they were a bit big compared to you.

You rested your head on the pillow and Dean smiled, watching you, and couldn't help as his heart just grew in size as he watched you. Fucking hell. He had never been this happy before.

"Thank you," he spoke, at last.

You moved your gaze to him, curious, and Dean took your hand to his lips, kissing the back of your palm.

"Thank you for taking me back," he stated. "And giving me a new chance."

You smiled and reached with your free hand to caress his face.

"You know that the real trial starts now, right? With the kids here. This is when things get hard."

He nodded.

Dean was very grateful for his second chance and your willingness to let him into your life and the kids' lives even after what he did. The truth was that Dean was terrified of losing you and of being a bad father, and that fear had been what had taken you away from him.

He would never let it happen again.

"I'm sure we will do great," he assured you. "We'll be together and we have at least two free babysitters."

You chuckled, looking at Sam, who was cooing softly at the babies.

He was sure Castiel would also love being present in their kids' lives, and could convince him into helping too.

"I love you," you spoke gently. "Very much."

Dean's eyes filled up with tears and he smiled back at you.

"I love you too," he spoke softly, kissing your hands, and then moved up to kiss your lips. "Very, very much."

. . .

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

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A Safe Place to Land: Open.

32 notes · View notes

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

2K notes · View notes

cosmicanakin · 29 days

Text

⎯ ⊱ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒!

Part 1 of Satiated Desire.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

Pairing. Dean Winchester x Female Reader.

Outline. Where you accidentally give Dean a hard on during a hunt.

Warning(s). Sexual tension, Strong Language, Sex innuendos, & Implied Smut.

Word Count. 207

Authors Note. He's been running on my mind all day and I needed to let my thoughts run wild. So enjoy — you'll definitely thank me later! 😉

The hunt had taken an unexpected turn, leaving you and Dean pressed up against each other, your back flush against his chest. You shifted slightly, trying to get a better vantage point, when you felt Dean’s grip tighten on your hips, holding you in place.

“Dean, what—” you began to ask, but the words died on your lips as you felt something hard pressing against you from behind. Your eyes widened in realization, heat creeping up your face.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry," Dean murmured, his voice strained. “I-I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

You whisper to Dean in his ear, “We’ll deal with this after the hunt, okay?”

He nodded mutely, your heart racing, already imagining ways to help him with his...situation. A small smile played on your lips as he replied, “You’re the best, Y/N,” he murmurs, hearing the mix of relief and anticipation in his voice.

“Of course, Dean. I’ve got you.”

Dean let out a shaky breath, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly.

With that, the two of you turned your focus back to the hunt, both eagerly awaiting the chance to properly address the growing tension between you.

927 notes · View notes

waynes-multiverse · 2 months

Note

Ok hear me out. I got this idea after the episode of Dean getting his "virginity" back and hooking up with the porn star when he's digging through her dresser and finds the DVD of her ANYWAY

Best friend Dean who's been pining after you for sooo long but doesn't want to fuck it up and lose you. You're hanging out when you ask him to go grab something from your room and he's digging through your drawers looking and accidentally comes across some lingerie and now it's days later and he's so hot and bothered cuz he can't think of anything else (the boy has a serious panty kink lets be honest) and you catch him in your room going through your drawers again and OH

A/N: As I warned y'all, this is a longer DD because, well, the prompt was long, so it's not really my fault. All that backstory took on a life of its own, but I think no one will be mad about it 😅 Again, I had tons of fun with this one! You'll see 🤣

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSWF, a ridiculous heat wave, friends to lovers (Wayne's Version), crack, a panty kink, some sneaky fluff, and some hot lovin' aka smut (oral f & face sitting)

Word Count: 4.5k (whoops)

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles

Cruel Summer

“You open the beaches on the 4th of July, it’s like ringing the dinner bell for Christ’s sake…”

As Jaws flickered across the screen in the Dean Cave, the green-eyed hunter adjusted himself in his seat. Usually, he had perfect control over himself and his feelings for you.

But on some days – like today – when you sat right next to him on the couch in nothing but a loose t-shirt and some short sweatpants, fanning yourself with an old magazine of Busty Asian Beauties as beads of salty sweat collected on your forehead and trickled down your neck, you made it hard for him.

“God, I’m so hot,” you sighed exhaustively and sunk further into the couch cushions, lifting your shirt from your sticky skin to let some cool air to your boobs as a heat wave ravaged through Kansas.

Painfully hard.

“Dean?” You pouted with your best puppy dog look at your best friend.

“Huh?” Dean was in trance, watching you more than the movie, always on the edge of getting caught one of these days.

“We’re out of Sour Patch Kids. I have more in my nightstand. Can you get them for me please?” you asked sweetly. “I don’t wanna move. I might actually die from heat exhaustion.”

Dean sighed and wordlessly rose from his seat. He knew you always kept an array of salty and sweet midnight snacks in your room in case you got hungry and didn’t want to wander into the kitchen in the middle of the night.

Moreover, he was grateful for the break. God knows he couldn’t stand to be around you any longer, or he would’ve been too tempted to rip your clothes off and really make you sweat.

I’ll show her a damn heat exhaustion, he thought with a scoff.

Hastily grabbing the desired snack, his green eyes then caught something red and lacy sticking out from the first drawer of your dresser. The hunter knew the decent and honest thing would’ve been to just keep moving and leave your godforsaken room.

Turn around, as Bonnie Tyler sang. But for some reason, his bright eyes couldn’t resist, his curiosity overtaking him.

Dean opened the drawer with the intention to push the naughty little clothing item back into its place and out of sight. Get rid of the temptation, so to speak. It sounded like the perfect loophole. He got to touch it and look at it, but for a very heroic and noble reason – not because he was a creepy perv, violating his best friend’s privacy.

On some level, Dean knew he’d never stand a chance with you. He wasn’t good enough. He had so much baggage all his suitcases wouldn’t even fit into the bunker.

A damn touch of a pair of panties you weren’t even wearing was all he would ever get from you.

But then his fingers touched the soft and see-through material, his pads tracing every delicate scarlet thread with precision and care. It was game over for him then and there, cursing himself internally for not resisting harder as his cock twitched joyfully in his jeans.

Dean had laid his eyes on you the second you strolled with swinging hips into that diner in Wichita for your very first case together, a werewolf hunt six years ago. And he had managed to get by without an incident for years since then, even when you moved into the bunker, being rather proud of that achievement. He never wanted to lose you as a friend and didn’t dare to cross a line. Ever.

Recently, though, it became more difficult to keep his distance and not let his thoughts wander. His feelings were magma that slowly had filled a volcano over the years. Each time you did something sexy or sweet or goofy or smart, another drop was added. And now, that damn fire mountain was overdue for an eruption – no thanks to that stupid heat wave.

“Thanks,” you said absentmindedly as the hunter handed you the candy but didn’t settle back down. Instead, he stood behind the sofa and leaned his hands on the backrest.

What you didn’t know, though, was that Dean was sporting quite the boner and wouldn’t dare to come into your line of view. He was surprised he could even walk up straight and not like a caveman early in the evolution.

A hunter gathering panties.

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” he told you with a somber clear of his throat. As the fan carried a breeze of your perfume to his nose, his grip tightened on the couch.

You turned in your seat and looked over your shoulder at him, raising a surprised brow. “Already? But the movie’s not over.”

“Yeah, I’m beat,” he excused and tried his best not to look strained. He forced a tight smile to his lips while his little dude celebrated Spring Break in his jeans. “‘Sides, we’ve seen Jaws like a million times now, Y/N.”

It was a cherished summer tradition between the two of you, watching it every 4th of July.

“I guess so.” You shrugged disappointedly, watching your best friend retreat to his room. Truth was, you loved spending time with Dean and held those little traditions close to your heart.

The Winchesters were your family, the only one you ever had. And while some families wore matching pajamas on Christmas morning, you watched the first two Die Hard movies. You would watch Dean’s favorite horror movies on Halloween. Sixteen Candles and High Fidelity on your birthday, Tombstone and The Great Escape on Dean’s, and some lame-ass foreign language documentaries that you both snored through on Sam’s.

Valentine’s Day was a dreaded non-holiday for all three of you, but for the past four years, someone would leave a box of chocolate in front of your door. The salted caramel ones would always be missing, and it always came with the same Forrest Gump quote:

I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is.

You knew the anonymous someone was Dean, and you knew he meant it as a joke. Still, you clung to those little traditions. They might seem silly and stupid to some, but to you, they were your lifeline in a world full of darkness.

So, you felt rather saddened Dean didn’t seem to honor them anymore. It wasn’t just Jaws, either. He’d been withdrawing from you for a while, and you didn’t understand why.

Unbeknownst to you, the green-eyed hunter had kept a lacy souvenir from your room.

Now, Dean had managed to avoid you for four days. Every night since his stealthy excursion, he would lie in his bed with your stolen panties in one hand and his throbbing length in the other, feeling goddamn pathetic for sinking so low.

It was probably so low that even his memory foam mattress would remember it.

With closed eyes, he then imagined how the perky globes of your ass would look like covered in crimson lace. How you would stretch out on his bed on all fours, with your ass high in the air and wiggling in front of him. How his fingers would push the wicked material aside to push into you, taking you deep and hard while you moaned his name.

As he ruined tissue after tissue, the guilt would wash over him as soon as he was done. Call it a post-nut epiphany.

Dean knew it was wrong to think those things. He knew he only made it harder for himself to ever look you into the eyes again. Hell, he barely could do it now, even though a part of him audaciously wondered what other treasures were hiding in that drawer of yours. And more pressingly, what ultimate wealth he would find beneath your clothes. If your lingerie was gold, he’d be a creepy-ass dragon sitting on it.

So, Dean tried to avoid you as best as possible. Mostly because, well…

“God, fuck me,” you groaned exhaustively and opened the refrigerator door, leaning against it as the refreshing cold hit you from behind. On top of that, you held a big bag of frozen peas to your sweaty chest. You already wore the bare minimum – some short denims and a white tank top, your hair up in a messy bun.

“I swear underboob sweat is the worst. Just be glad you don’t have tits,” you complained. “Guys, seriously, can we invest in an AC? This heat wave is killing me! This bunker is like one giant oven…”

You watched as Dean squirmed in his seat as he ate his cereal, looking as uncomfortable as you. Surely, the boys were suffering just as badly during those sweltering temperatures, already forgoing the usual flannels and opting for plain t-shirts instead. How they were still wearing jeans was beyond you. When you first moved in, you protested against Dean’s suggestion of Naked Tuesdays, but these days, you were actually giving it a second thought.

“Well, I’m gonna drive to Kansas City today and see if I can get us an AC. Apparently, they’re all sold out, but I figured maybe with a bit of flirting and some cleavage, I can still get us one,” you explained your plan with a bright smirk and wiggled your eyebrows. “What d’you guys think, huh?”

Dean then abruptly banged his fist on the table, spilling some milk from his bowl on the surface. “For God’s sake, Y/N!”

You frowned in confusion at his unexpected outburst. “What’s up with you? Are you having a heat stroke?”

“Flirting, really?!” the hunter barked, his brow shaped into a deeply furious v.

“What’s wrong with that? Double standard much? You do it all the time to get shit,” you countered and watched his jaw clench in anger.

“I do-... not,” he remarked snappily with a fierce finger drilling into the table, clearly lacking a good argument. Sam cleared his throat in agreement with you, but that only earned him a glare. “And Jesus fucking Christ, would it hurt you to put on some goddamn clothes? You’re not even wearing a bra!”

“Did you not hear my tits rant just now? Of course I’m not! ‘Sides, those boobs are gonna get you an AC, so be a little more grateful to them,” you retorted, annoyed with his attitude. You’d think of all the people in this world, Dean Winchester would understand. (And maybe even appreciate it.) “And how can you even tell, huh?”

“‘Cause science, Y/N! You’re literally cooling your tits! What did you think was gonna happen, huh? Nipples!” he vented outrageously. “This ain’t a strip club!”

“It’s 102 degrees, Dean!” you argued, throwing your arms up. “Look, if I could, I’d even go naked, alright? It’s fucking hot!”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Dean shook his head and stormed out of the kitchen without any further comment.

Confused, you blinked at the younger Winchester. “What’s up with him?”

But Sam only shrugged, shaking his head. “Uhm, I don’t know,” he replied, although he could take an educated guess, suspecting his brother’s feelings for you as the culprit.

“Well, alright, I’m going to Kansas City,” you decided without wasting another thought on the older Winchester’s strange behavior. “Text me if you guys need something. I can pick it up on my way home.”

Dean knew he was in deep trouble as his bow legs bolted down the bunker’s hallways. He tried so hard to keep it together, but when he saw you, half-naked and panting in front of the fridge, he quite literally lost his coolness in this goddamn heat wave.

The green-eyed hunter understood a thing or two about torture, but this was the worst of all. He’d rather have a demon repeatedly peel off his skin in hellfire than endure a day more of this fucking madness.

If the temperatures didn’t drop soon, it would be a cruel summer ahead of him.

As Dean heard the door to the garage close, he knew you’d left for your trip and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. At least he’d get a few hours of peace.

With the best intentions, he strolled to his bedroom, but as he passed your room on his way, he found the door ajar. Whatever good motives he had up until this point, went quickly out the window right then.

His hand twitched at the thought of more riches, worse than any trigger finger and competing with a California earthquake, and well, so did the dick in his jeans. It was an addiction at this point, an obsession he couldn’t resist nor get rid off. The fact that it was forbidden and wrong only made it even more appealing. The apple in the garden of Eden.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t an anonymous support group for this kind of sickness.

As unbearable shame and guilt collected in his stomach like rainwater in the gutter, his eager hands rummaged through your dresser drawer. There was purple lace and black satin, navy G-strings and white Brazilians. It was never ending, and the hunter couldn’t stop as he picked up each item and let his fantasies roam wild.

God, the things he wanted to do to you were as colorful as your rainbow full of underwear.

“Dean?!”

The green-eyed hunter froze in his place, a white lace panty still bunched up in his large palm. The hair in the back of his neck stood up in shock, a part of him refusing to turn around at the sound of your voice. He was caught red-handed, and he knew it.

“What are you doing in my room?” you prompted, suspiciously cocking an eyebrow. It looked fairly obvious what your best friend was up to, but you didn’t want to accuse him right away, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Frankly, it was quite unbelievable.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean replied and swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he held up his hands like a criminal during an arrest, the evidence still in his grasp.

“Well, it looks like you’re snooping through my lingerie,” you pointed out bluntly.

Dean nodded, guilt-ridden and reluctant. “I can explain.”

“Good,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m waiting…”

“Right, uhm…”

“Oh, before you scramble for an answer, you should know, though, that I’m aware a pair of red lace panties is missing, and I know the washer didn’t eat them,” you said and raised an expectant brow.

You had a feeling your pervy best friend was behind the mystery of the missing item. Now you knew for sure.

“Man, I always knew you were a kinky son of a bitch, but this is a new level, Dean,” you scolded.

Dean’s gaze dropped to the floor in shame, scratching the nape of his neck. “Look, uhm, there’s no good excuse. I know I fucked up here. I’ll sleep in a motel tonight until I find my own place. You can stay here with Sam, alright? I’ll move out and won’t bother you anymore.”

As he tried to brush past you, you blocked his exit and grabbed his arm. “So, you’re gonna leave? Just like that?”

“What other choice do I have? I don’t wanna make you more uncomfortable,” he stated without glancing at you once. He couldn’t bring himself to look into your eyes and see the disappointment and disgust there. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“Oh, so wrong,” you agreed. “I just figured you wouldn’t run away like a coward and take your punishment like a man, you know? Aren’t you at all curious what I’m wearing right now?”

That was when Dean’s juniper eyes slowly wandered to you and caught your gaze for the first time. You smirked as his breathing became heavy and his look darkened and filled with lust. It seemed like he wanted to rip your clothes off with his goddamn bare teeth like a wild animal.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or if I’m dreaming,” he admitted, his deep voice part harsh swallow and part nervous chuckle.

“Neither,” you said, biting your bottom lip.

Carefully, you leaned closer, your hands reaching up to cup his scruffy cheeks. Noses nuzzled as your lips ghosted against his with a daring grin. You wouldn’t go further; it was up to Dean to make that final decision.

And then, as no more than a mere second ticked by on the clock, the hunter crashed his lips against yours in a kiss so scorching it made the current heat wave look like an ice age. If you thought you were hot before, now it felt like you were burning in a wildfire.

Dean roughly pushed you against the door, his kiss all teeth and tongue in an uncontrollable frenzy. His dick was hard and thick, straining against his jeans and rubbing along your thigh. Pantingly, you gasped for air and grabbed his hand, guiding it down your body and into your shorts.

“Feel that?” you asked mischievously as his fingers dug through your soaked folds and collected the arousal he caused. A wanton growl left his plush lips. “All for you, baby. You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you?”

“Shit, yeah, so bad…” Dean rasped huskily against your throat as he worshipped his path down your body, forcing your shirt up till his wet tongue rolled over your pert and still cold nipple.

“Gonna make it up to me, huh? Show me how sorry you are?” you prompted, your fingers raking through his sandy blond and soft hair, eliciting a groan from him every time you tugged a little harder.

Teeth pinched your skin, tongue cherished your taste, and lips left your throat bruised. It was equal parts hot, sweaty, messy, naughty, dirty, and sticky as your bodies rutted against one another, looking for dire release.

With swollen and plumper than before lips, he came back up for air and found your eyes. He kissed you with heated passion once more as if he couldn’t resist to touch you over and over again. He had to restrain himself to be able to speak.

“So, uhm, you sure about this?” Dean asked between labored breaths with an insecure gleam in his green eyes. “‘Cause if we go further, I don’t think I can stop. And I don’t mean just this time but ever… If you want this to be a one time thing, you gotta tell me, sweetheart, so I can mentally prepare myself. I mean, I’ll take what I can get, you know? Not that I care either way… Well, that’s not true. I do care. A lot… But, you know, you’re you, and I’m me, so I’m not delusional. I know there’s no way you would–”

You interrupted his babbling with a kiss, causing the hunter to lose his words. You looked deeply into his eyes and offered him a small smile of comfort.

“Dean, listen to me, okay? ‘Cause this is very important,” you urged, your hands gripping his shirt tightly.

He nodded, gulping anxiously. “O-Okay.”

“You’re incredible,” you said and watched him inhale sharply at your words, blinking at you in disbelief. “Absolutely fucking bonkers incredible. You’re right – you’re you. And thank God you are, because you’re the best, funniest, smartest, kindest, and goddamn hottest man I’ve ever met. I’m tired of you not seeing that. As my boyfriend, I really need to you to see that, alright?”

As Dean pensively took in your words, his brow began to furrow. “Boyfriend?”

The corners of your mouth rose to a beam. “Yeah, boyfriend,” you confirmed. “That’s what you want, right? ‘Cause I’d really like that, too.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah… That’s what I want.” Dean nodded eagerly before another swallow followed. “I mean, among other things…”

You bit your lip, smirking. “What other things?”

“Well, uhm…”

Dean didn’t finish his sentence, his lips impatiently claiming yours instead. He pressed you hungrily back against the door, massive hands sliding down your sides till they hooked into the hem of your denim shorts and ripped them down to your ankles, leaving you only covered in teal lace. He growled shamelessly at the sight, his thick digits eagerly diving inside.

“Wanna be inside you,” he groaned into your ear, thumbing furiously at your clit. “Every hour of every day…”

“We can do that,” you agreed with a giggle, your arms locking around his neck, fingers carding through his hair in the back.

“Wanna feel your mouth around my–” The last word was muffled as he ravaged your neck, but you understood where he was going with this.

“You can do that,” you said with a smile.

“And fuck, I want you to ride my face,” he declared. That demand left you speechless, making even Dean stop for a minute and look at you. “Too far?”

You shook your head and smirked. “I can do that.”

Before Dean’s mind could fathom your words, you shoved him onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress. When you stood before him, slotted between his muscular legs, his gaze trailed up and down your body, memorizing every beautiful curve. As your fingers curled into the waistband of your panties, however, the hunter stopped you.

“Leave ‘em on, sweetheart. Don’t you dare take those off,” he told you, his hands rapaciously reaching out to you.

You played with the hem of your top and smirked, your tongue licking over your lips. “What about this? On or off?”

“Off,” he shot back faster than a bullet leaving a barrel.

“You first,” you demanded and grinned. “Remember, this is still your punishment.”

“God, I love getting punished,” Dean mumbled and slipped out of his shirt. He then swiftly shimmied out of his jeans, discarding each item carelessly around the room.

He then took a deep breath as he tugged the waistband of his boxers, his erection already fighting its way out. “Well, here goes nothing,” the hunter said and pulled his underwear down.

You tilted your head to see his hard cock from a better angle as it sprang against his stomach. Your lips parted in anticipation, wondering what he’d taste like on your tongue and how deep you’d be able to take him. You guessed there’d be a struggle ahead, considering how huge and wide he was.

“Oh, I would not call that monster nothing,” you commented with a scoff, your pussy throbbing with need. “Explains all that BDE.”

Dean blushed. It was cute to watch. “Thank you.”

Giggling, you removed your shirt and tossed it at his face, blinding him for a second. You used that momentum to slide onto the bed and straddle his torso. As his eyes finally found you again, he almost choked on his spit when he gazed up at your perfect tits above him. A primal grunt escaped his throat.

With a mesmerized sparkle in his eyes, his hands trailed up your body and cupped your breasts, massaging them roughly as your panties grew damper by the minute. He then pulled you down to his lips and kissed you breathless before he left them with a boyish smirk on his freckled face.

“Hop on, sweetheart.”

And as if his words hadn’t been enough motivation, his hands wandered to palm your ass and hauled you closer to his mouth. He was an impatient one – or maybe he’d waited years for this and was finally tired of it.

Your knees sunk into the mattress on either side of his stubborn head. His fingers dented your flesh as they grabbed onto your thighs. Yours held onto the headboard for support. You tried not to look down, because then you’d see his big lopsided and full of excitement grin.

The same one he had when you found a diner in Kentucky that advertised the biggest burger in America (it wasn’t). The same one he had when he thought he had run into a member of Metallica at a gas station outside of Phoenix (he didn’t). The same one he had when you and Sam gifted him his own beer brewing station for his last birthday (which tasted horrible, but neither you nor Sam had the heart to tell him).

And now, he had that same grin when he was about to be with you.

As your pussy dripped above him, Dean couldn’t hold back his lewd groans any longer. You didn’t even have to lower yourself; he just dragged you down onto his face all to eagerly. His fingers swiped your panties to the side, and before you could even adjust your grip on the bedpost, his tongue darted into your soaked channel as deeply as he could and sucked you goddamn dry.

With several whimpers, you clenched around his wet muscle. If you were water in the desert, he was parched and drinking to survive.

His nose was buried in your folds, rubbing deliciously against your clit as he lapped your pussy in a vicious attack that left you squirming and moaning to a pornographic degree above him. Because Dean was just that – pure porn.

Instinctively and irresistibly, you ground your cunt against him, the vibrations of his keen groans against your sensitive flesh rocking you to the edge of your climax. He ate you out and devoured you like that damn gigantic burger in Kentucky. And as you dared to blink down and watch him in action, he had the audacity to devilishly smirk up at you with the crinkles around his green eyes alone, gauging your every reaction to his touches as if you were a goddamn movie on a silver screen.

You trembled and quivered and screamed as your orgasm electrified every molecule in your body. You white-knuckled the wood in your grip, your body only held up by Dean’s strong arms because God knows your weak legs were useless now.

As wave after wave washed over you, Dean drank every drop of yours, his tongue never getting enough of your taste. The sounds that filled the room were carnal and obscene.

“Fuck, Dean,” you sighed blissfully and lifted off his face and captured his swollen and red lips in a grateful kiss, your palms finding purchase on his broad shoulders. Your drenched and sensitive cunt settled on his thighs as an egregiously large erection poked your belly and tempted you further.

Dean smirked up at you, all satisfied and confident with his achievement. “I think we have a slight problem, though.”

Your brow knitted, your heart tightening with anxiety. Had you been as disappointing as the burger, beer, and that fake Metallica band member?

But Dean only grinned teasingly at your confused face. “There’s no way I learned my lesson here.”

You snorted and sought out his lips, the kiss giving you a taste of yourself. “We’ll work on that. I might have to nickname you Jaws after this,” you joked.

“Can’t wait for you to explain that one to Sammy.” Dean snorted, chuckling. “Now, how about you hop on again, but this time a little further south, huh?” he proposed with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a suggestive twitch of his cock for emphasis.

You giggled with a few nods. “I can do that.”

Was it worth the words? 😝

For all you newcomers and as a general reminder, Dirty Drabbles are always open. I still have quite a few left, but you're welcome to send more in, and we'll add it to the collection at some point 😎🔥

PUT YOUR DIRTY THOUGHTS HERE

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#dirty drabbles #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester reader inser #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #supernatural reader insert #jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic

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supernaturalfreewill · 4 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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avanatural · 1 year

Text

The Talk

Summary: Jack catches Dean and Y/N while they're being intimate. The Nephilim has a lot of questions about what he witnessed, and Dean takes it upon himself to answer at least the most important ones.

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Smut, fluff, some humor, 18+

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, mentions of non-con, getting caught during sex

A/N: This story contains smut! Do not proceed if you’re under the age of 18! Thank you to the lovely people who expressed their interest in this particular story. I hope you enjoy! Wanna be added to my Dean Winchester tag list? Send me an ask ❤️

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Y/N cried out in ecstasy. Her fingers curled around the headboard, holding on for dear life. Dean was ramming into her at a rapid pace, kneeling behind her. His skin was slapping against hers. Every push was forceful enough to take her breath away.

“How’s that feel?”, he checked in with her, bending forward, folding his body across hers, his lips grazing her cheek. His thrusts slowed down, but their force increased.

“So good,” she panted through the powerful sensations.

“You want me to keep goin’ like that?”

“Oh God, yes…”

She clenched around him, causing him to hiss loudly in pleasure. He could feel his body vibrate as a familiar intense sensation settled in his lower regions.

Until…

“What are you doing?”

Dean and Y/N tensed violently at the sudden intrusion. Their souls took a leap out of their bodies, prompting them to abruptly still their movements. No one else was supposed to be in the bunker. Their heads snapped towards the open door of Dean’s bedroom.

None other than Lucifer’s son himself, Jack, was standing in the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him, his head tilted to the side.

“Dammit, Jack!”, Dean roared, swiftly pulling out of Y/N and throwing his cream-colored sheets over her naked body.

Y/N’s eyes were wide, her breathing heavy. She gladly accepted the sheets to cover her body. A scorching heat lit up her cheeks. She felt like she’d just run a marathon, but with a mighty dose of embarrassment tossed into the mix.

“What are you doing?”, the Nephilim repeated, staring at the two hunters with a crease between his innocent eyes.

“Having sex!”, Dean snapped, snatching his pillow from the bed to hide his softening member.

Jack’s lips pursed as he mentally went through his vocabulary to find that particular word. When it didn’t ring a bell, he shook his head. “What does that mean?”

Y/N groaned internally and hid her burning face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening. What the hell was he doing back early? Jack and Sam were supposed to be out.

“It’s what adults do for fun,” Dean snarled, hoping that, by some miracle, Jack was going to take the hint and leave them alone.

Instead, the purest smile spread across Jack’s face. He looked even more interested in the subject now. “I like fun.”

Dean pushed his jaw forward. He was irritated, but he was also embarrassed. Y/N could tell by looking at his flushed freckled cheeks and the reddening tips of his ears. “You remember the talk we had about privacy?”, he demanded.

Lucifer’s son drew his eyebrows together. “Of course.”

“You wanna give us some of that?”, Dean barked, sarcasm dripping from his rough voice.

“Hey, Jack, I was wondering where you headed off to…”, Sam’s voice trailed off as he appeared in the doorframe. He took in the scene before him, quick to avert his gaze and clear his throat. “Jack, uh… Come on, we’ll give them some privacy.” Sam placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and steered him away from the door.

Dean groaned and let his sweaty forehead drop to Y/N’s shoulder. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered.

“But the door was open,” they could hear Jack protest down the hall.

Y/N sighed deeply, hoping that it would somehow rid her of the uneasiness that tickled her limbs. When Dean lifted his head back up and met her gaze, she was almost amused by the obvious disappointment on his face. Almost. The smile didn’t break through, but her eyes reflected her bashful internal laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Dean grumbled, frowning as he spotted the beginning of the awkward smile on her face.

The mood had definitely been killed.

“Come on…” Y/N gently patted Dean’s bare thigh. “Let’s get dressed. It’s time for lunch, anyway.”

“Dean?”, Jack asked.

The Nephilim, Dean and Sam were sat at the library table, their noses buried in books and newspapers. The earthy scent of paper wafted through the air.

“Hm?”, the older Winchester brother half-heartedly replied, raising his mug to his lips.

“Does… sex… hurt women?”

Sam gave the Nephilim a confused side-glance while Dean audibly gulped down the hot sip of coffee. “What?”

“I think you hurt Y/N,” Jack stated with an accusing tone in his voice.

Sam’s lips transformed into a tight, thin line to prevent him from laughing.

Dean sent a glare his brother’s way. He was not in the mood to give the son of Lucifer ‘the talk.’ “It’s none of your business what I do with Y/N. Capiche?”, he grumped. The hunter’s muscles tightened in his jaw as he took another sip of his coffee.

“But I don’t want you to hurt her.”

“I wasn’t hurting her,” Dean huffed, putting down his mug. He didn’t want to defend himself for what Jack had witnessed, but if someone claimed that he hurt Y/N, and that he hurt her on purpose, the hunter was bound to get offended. “Relax.”

Sam chimed in, showing mercy for his brother. “Jack, Dean would never hurt Y/N. You know that.”

“But it looked like he was.”

Dean sighed grumpily and clasped his hands on the table in front of him. “I was doin’ somethin’ she likes. Okay? That’s rule number one with sex,” he explained, lifting a single finger in the air for emphasis, “You both need to enjoy it.”

“So, it’s possible not to enjoy it?” Jack’s forehead furrowed, causing his brows to move closer together. “I thought adults do it for fun.”

“Yes, it’s possible, but that should never, ever happen,” Dean clarified, “You need to communicate, make sure you’re on the same page.”

Jack’s eyes squinted at the unfamiliar expression. “On… the same page?”

“Yeah. For example…” Dean briefly shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to believe he was actually talking about this to Jack, of all people. “Uh… Y/N told me she doesn’t want me to leave hickeys on her body, so I can’t do that. Even though I’d like to.” At the thought of marking Y/N up as his, he ran his tongue across his lower lip. “I’d really, really like to…,” he muttered to himself dreamily.

Sam scoffed, chuckling slightly and shaking his head. Never in a million years could he have guessed that his older brother was going to give Satan’s son the talk one day.

Meanwhile, Jack nodded, clinging to Dean’s every word. “So, it’s about… permission,” he concluded.

“Exactly,” Dean responded, snapping his fingers and pointing one at Jack. He felt something dangerously close to pride swell in his chest as the boy drew the correct conclusion. “Bottom line is, you can only do what your partner allows you to.”

Jack nodded and let the information sink in for a second. Then, one of his eyebrows rose up and he inquired, “So, Y/N is your… partner?”

The question was a curveball to Dean, whose mouth puckered in reply. He was stunned into stammering, “Uhm, well…”

Curiously, Sam sat up straighter and watched his sibling’s reaction like a hawk.

“Yeah,” Dean said finally, shrugging his wide shoulders, which, to his surprise, suddenly felt a lot lighter.

Jack clasped his own hands on the table, copying Dean’s posture. “Are there any other rules?”

“Yeah. Like protection.” When Jack opened his mouth to ask further questions, Dean silenced him by lifting his pointer finger back in the air. “But I ain’t teachin’ you about that, kid. One lesson at a time.”

Dean got up, empty mug in hand, and headed toward the kitchen. As he entered the hallway, he almost bumped into Y/N, who was standing right there, resting against the wall. She smiled up at him, irises gleaming with joy and a little bit of mischief.

“What’s gotten you all cheerful?”, he demanded playfully, eyebrows arching.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, grinning at him.

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. But he didn’t get to say another word when Jack’s bewildered voice suddenly rang through the library.

“Sam… What are hickeys?”

When Sam’s groan reached their ears, Dean and Y/N burst into quiet laughter, leaning forward, their heads almost bumping into each other.

That night, Y/N listened to Dean’s calming heartbeat, cuddled up against his torso. He sighed with content when she pressed her lips to his anti-possession tattoo.

“You know… I really liked how you gave Jack the talk today,” she said.

Dean’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “So, you were eavesdroppin’.”

“Guilty.” Y/N laughed softly for a second, smiling at the green-eyed hunter who was holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “But seriously... I liked how you taught him about consent.”

His fingers traced an affectionate pattern on her hip. “Well, that's sex 101, isn’t it?”

She nodded against his skin. “It should be.”

Dean slowly brushed his fingertips across her ribs and felt her muscles contract. When he realized she was ticklish, he dragged his fingers along the same spot again. He enjoyed the sweet sounds of laughter that spilled from her mouth. He loved having her in his arms, whether they were having sex or not. She made him feel good. About his life. About himself.

“So… I’m your partner, huh?”, Y/N asked, catching his hand in hers so he would stop tickling her. She proceeded to bite her bottom lip and sneak a peek at Dean’s face while she waited for his response. So far, neither of them had brought up the question of what exactly they were to each other.

At first, she was met with complete and utter silence. That was okay. Truth be told, she had no idea what to expect. She knew they each had their own difficulties when it came to relationships. But she needed to know if Dean had told Jack the truth, or if he’d just called her his partner to appease the young Nephilim.

Then, after a few seconds, Dean gave his silent reply. The way he clenched his arm around her, squeezed her against him, and firmly kissed the crown of her head told her more than words ever could. He then transformed his response into one single word, quietly whispering it into her hair. “Yeah.”

“Hmm,” she hummed and hid her smiling face in the crook of his neck. His embrace was the most comfortable place in the entire world. She felt his chest rise and fall steadily, heard the deep breaths coming from his nose, and shut her eyes. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt at peace. “Dean?”, she asked after a few minutes, wondering if he was dozing off.

“Hm?”

“I think you still owe me an orgasm or two.”

His sleepy, spiky-haired head rose up the second she finished her sentence. He rolled on top of her body, grinning like a Cheshire cat while she giggled her heart out.

“Just two?”

“Ohh, are we feeling ambitious tonight?”, she chuckled, circling her arms around his neck.

“It’s on, sweetheart,” he rasped, molding his lips against hers in a breathtaking kiss.

Tag list: @eevvvaa @waynes-multiverse @myloversgone @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @alagalaska @libre1rose8 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @woodworthti666 @deanwanddamons @awkward-and-indecisive @snowlovespie @desimarie12 @golden-hoax @leigh70 @mimzy1994 @impalaslytherin @globetrotter28 @spnwoman @mrsjenniferwinchester @may85 @100percentserenity @tmb510 @roseblue373 @iamsapphine

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

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castiwls · 1 month

Text

confessions - d.w

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; Confessing your love while drunk is all well and good until that drink wears off. (pt2 for drunken confessions)

Requested; @nix-rose

Notes;tysm for the request sorry this took so long lmao <3

Masterlist | pt1

Taking a sip from the mug you continued staring forward. You’d barely slept the night before, your mind had been going a mile a minute ever since you’d managed to get Dean into his room and convinced him to sleep.

So far you’d spent most of your time thinking over what you could possibly say to him whenever he emerged from his room. The weight of ruining your friendship lay heavy over you, while he’d claimed to be in love you had no way to know if he was telling the truth.

You’d known Dean long enough to know that when he got drunk enough his emotions came pouring out in strange ways. Sometimes he’d bottle up and refuse to say anything, he’d use the drink to dull the pain yet sometimes he went in the completely other direction. And last night seemed that he’d been pretty open and willing to talk about things such as how he felt.

Though you knew that the chances of him even remembering coming home last night were low.

Letting out a small sigh you placed the mug down on the table before looking to the door for a moment. The sound of footsteps caught your attention as you watched the doorway. As they grew closer the sound of a small groan echoed off the walls. Your lips quirked up slightly at the sound.

“Morning.” Dean paused in the doorway rubbing a hand over his eyes. His gaze fell onto you and he tensed for a moment before clearing his throat. Slowly he took a seat opposite you, his eyes falling on your mug.

Wordlessly you pushed it over to him earning a small smile in thanks. He took a long sip before placing the mug down and staring at it. “How’s your head?” You placed your hands on the table in front of you looking at him expectantly. Dean looked up a small frown on his lips. “Sore.”

You were both quiet for a moment as he quickly finished the drink. His shoulders seemed to tense the longer you both sat in silence.

“Look, I’m not gonna dig into you about the whole getting drunk and not getting supplies,” Dean visibly relaxed at your words, part of him had expected you to chew him out the minute he’d walked into the kitchen yet you hadn't. Something which had left him feeling slightly on edge. “But we do need to talk about something.” A pit of anxiety was quickly forming in your stomach as you watched him tense again.

Taking a breath to calm your nerves you caught his gaze. “Do you…do you remember what you said last night?” Dean’s breath hitched slightly as he pushed the empty mug away. He kept your gaze as you began to nervously fiddle with your hands at his continued silence.

He pursed his lips for a moment before he closed his eyes. “I told you.” A small laugh left his lips as he leaned back in his chair running a hand down his face. “I…what did I say.” He stared at you expectantly as he bit down on his lip. He wasn’t one for sharing his feelings and the idea that he’d drunkenly blurted them out made him feel slightly sick.

The idea of being completely vulnerable with someone normally left him feeling on edge but the idea of being drunk and doing it freaked him out endlessly.

“Not much.” You assured him. “You just…just confessed your love.” You watched as Dean’s eyes widened slightly before he nodded slowly. He thought for a moment allowing the initial shock he felt to dissipate.

“How do you feel about it? About what I said?” His face stayed neutral but you could see the small glimmer of hope in his eyes. A small laugh left your lips, he was trying to skate around it. You’d seen him do this before, he wasn’t going to admit anything until you did.

“That depends. Did you mean it?”

You watched with bated breath as he was silent for a moment. You knew this could make or break your whole friendship with him. Dean Winchester was not someone who enjoyed being vulnerable, but if he really meant it then surely he could be vulnerable around you.

“I did. Hell, I really wish you hadn’t found out this way. But I really meant it.”

He watched you closely for a moment before reaching for one of your hands. “Sweetheart, please don’t leave me hanging here.” He chucked nervously. “Maybe drunk you is braver than both of us.” You smiled squeezing his hand. You felt him squeeze your hand back a smile of his own growing on his lips.

“I’ve felt the same since we met.” Finally being able to admit it felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest almost. You’d carried around these feelings for so long that you’d accepted the fact that nothing would ever come of them yet here you were.

Dean’s grin seemed to grow at your confession. “So me getting drunk paid off then.” He joked watching as you quietly laughed as well.

“I guess it did.” You nodded. “We still need to talk about that though.”

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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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nabooberrie · 23 days

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Rip Sam Winchester you would’ve loved the fnaf lore

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader fluff #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester supernatural #castiel x dean #dean winchester x reader #deancas #sam and dean #dean winchester #castiel x y/n #castiel #castiel supernatural #supernatural #spn fanart #spn rp

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brightlilith · 5 months

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Dean: Tell me... are you single? *charming smile*

Y/N: Nop

Dean: Oh...

Y/N: You're really drunk, sweetie

*sam laughs*

#supernatural dean #sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you

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cosmicanakin · 1 month

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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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winchester-girl67 · 5 months

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Imagine... Dean Coming To You For Comfort

Summary: Dean looks for comfort after a nightmare. He enjoys being the little spoon.

Requested by anonymous: “could you write a fic where dean just needs some comfort from the reader? it could be platonic and dean just had a bad day or a nightmare and doesn't want to be alone and wants to be held without asking"

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 902

Warnings: language, nightmares, implied violence (hunting a vamp nest), brief mention of a gun reader keeps under the pillow, a little angst, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, fluff

A/N: Found this in my wips, it's a little short but sweet. Enjoy.

_____

“I said, I'm fucking fine, okay?!”

Dean's words echoed in your ears. You'd only asked him the once and he just snapped at you, so when you got back to the bunker you beelined for your room and slammed the door.

You didn't get food, you didn't shower off the motel shower from a few hours earlier like you usually would, and you didn't get any sleep either. ‘Monopoly’ speaking, you did not pass 'GO'. You just pouted in your bed.

The hunt could've gone better; it also could've gone worse.

You stared at the ceiling, still awake and wondering how to reproach Dean. He was clearly not fine but until he was able to admit that, there was no getting through to him. Dean was just too stubborn when he was in these moods and honestly you were a little, too. You wanted to help, but you didn't want to swallow your pride and walk down that hall just to have him yell at you again.

You weren't a masochist. But you still laid there, in bed, overthinking everything that went wrong with the hunt.

First of all, you should've brought Sam with you, or Cas. Dean said it would be simple enough though with the two of you. It wasn't and you almost got killed. Dean, of course, wasn't letting himself forget it. You could see that written all over his face on the ride home.

Stopping your mind from racing wasn't easy. You counted the dots on the ceiling tiles as you listened to the ticking of Dean's wristwatch on your arm. He'd synchronized it to the time on his cell and given it to you before the hunt so you could stay structured in your plan against the vamp nest.

It was smart, until it wasn't. There were more than you expected and you always jumped the gun and went in first. Standing still wasn't the easiest thing for you to do with all that adrenaline pumping in your veins. And you were used to hunting alone. Before the Winchesters came into the picture.

Needless to say, everything that went wrong after that was about ninety-percent your fault. The other ten was simply a miscalculation.

You'd known the Winchesters for quite some time but moving into the bunker with them was fairly new. In the back of your mind, you hoped Dean wouldn't ask you to move out. You kinda liked not being completely alone anymore. The world was tough and they felt like family already. It would break your heart for sure; shatter any trust you had left.

Your bedroom door creaked open slowly on its old hinges and a shadowed figure peaked its head inside your room. You held your breath for a moment and gripped the cool handle of your gun underneath your pillow.

Always on guard. Even if the bunker was the safest place you'd ever been.

"Easy, Y/N, it's just me." Dean said, pushing the door open the rest of the way so the light of the hall revealed his features.

His expression was soft, too soft -broken like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the nightmares to prove it. His hair was disheveled and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

"Just wanted to check on you, I'll let you get back to sleep. Sorry I woke you, sweetheart." Dean breathed deep and slowly started to shut your door. "And sorry I yelled."

"Wait," you sat up and placed the gun on the night table next to you before switching the light on low. "Come here. Close the door."

You flipped back the covers, shuffled over to make room and patted the mattress beside you. Dean wiped the frown from his face with his hand and did as you said. He shut the door and settled into bed next to you. Tense and unmoving once he rolled onto his side facing away from you.

He couldn't ask, but he didn't need to.

You clicked off the light and tugged up the covers to his chin. Your palm rubbed over his shoulders and half-way down his back, then circled up again until you felt his muscles begin to relax.

"That feels nice," he breathed and sniffled a little.

You continued your motions for a while longer until his breathing evened out, you could tell he was still awake but knew he didn't intend on talking things out. That wasn't Dean. So instead, you rubbed up and down his arm and molded your chest into his back, settling into your position as big spoon. You squeezed him and held his hand against his chest.

"Thank you," he sighed and weaved his fingers through yours.

Dean didn't talk about feelings if he didn't have to. And for someone so 'tough', more often than not, he liked to be the little spoon. Especially to your big spoon.

There was an unspoken understanding that neither of you were ever to bring it up in the light of day. But things were just different at night and being vulnerable and open didn't feel as achy and oozy.

Feelings were allowed to be felt in the dark.

He'd be gone before you woke, starting breakfast and roasting coffee in the kitchen, but for now your pieces could hold his pieces together.

And maybe you could both finally get some sleep.

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33 @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

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supernaturalfreewill · 7 months

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"Hey! That's my shirt!" Dean said, watching you slip the soft cotton of his t-shirt on over your head. It swallowed up your frame and left you with slightly tousled hair.

You bit your bottom lip and grinned at him. "So?"

He sat up in bed, the sheet still swirled around his hips. You let your eyes wander over his strong chest. "So, that's why all my clothes keep disappearing. Do you have that green flannel too?"

"Maybe," you smiled innocently. "You like how they look on me anyway," you said, revolving in place so Dean could see just how his t-shirt brushed your thighs from all angles.

He sighed and clicked his tongue. "I can't argue with that... but I would like them back eventually."

You shrugged, carefree. "You can file your complaint in the suggestion box," you said cheekily.

Dean chuckled. "Oh yeah? Where's that?"

"Oh, it's that gray bin over there by my desk, next to the recycling can..."

"Alright, that's enough sass. Gimme back my shirt and get back in bed!" Dean demanded through more laughter, reaching for you. You tried to dart away, out of reach of his long arms, but he was too fast and soon tugged you back into the bed right on top of him.

#dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #spn reader insert

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 10 months

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.⋆｡Make Him Better Looking｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

Truth serum plus hidden feelings and a major amount of lust for your best friend is bound to end well

Warnings: truth serum, reader is hornee, implied smut, size kink, Sam is taller than the reader, explicit thoughts, mutual pining, mentions of a hunt

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Falling in love with Sam had been easy- not only was he stupidly handsome with those big hazel puppy dog eyes and a killer body, but he was kind and he was smart. He loved with his whole soul and would do anything for anyone, even after all the shit he had been through.

What hadn’t been easy, however, was just how horny you got every time you even thought of the giant hunter let alone be around him. If he was tracing lines in a book to keep his place, you thought about what his fingers would feel like inside of you. If he was working out, you wondered if he would make those same noises in bed. And worst of all was when he was talking animatedly about something, his entire body came alive with passion and excitement. His eyes sparkled and his smile was always huge. And yet all you could think about was having his face between your thick thighs, talking into your cunt as he feasted.

Needless to say, you had absolutely destroyed your scant collection of toys and taken more cold showers than warm. Eventually, you had to reach your breaking point.

It had been a witch hunt in Arkansas that went slightly wrong. People all around town were suddenly compelled to tell everyone around them their darkest secrets, ruining their lives in the process. It was a pretty simple cut and dry witch who had some vendetta against liars so she was forcing everyone to tell the truth. You and Jody picked up the hunt as some kind of demented girl’s trip and it mostly went off without a hitch. At least until the witch got you with a truth spell right before the sheriff dropped her.

You had arrived back home with your mouth practically sewn shut in an attempt to keep yourself from telling the boys your innermost thoughts until the spell wore off (which Jody assured you that it would be a couple days at most). Claire and Alex already had their fun asking you questions that you could no longer lie in response to, leading to them learning why there’s a bottle of deluded bleach and air freshener in the back of the Impala and the ‘no tequila after midnight’ rule.

Dean quickly discovered your ailment after you bluntly told him that his new orange flannel and grown out hair made him look like an oversized carrot, and he was determined to break you. But unfortunately for him, you were a hell of a lot smarter than him and could find ways to easily distract him.

You and Dean sat across from each other at the library table, eyes locked to each other as you both desperately tried not to blink. A game born out of desperation not to reveal your darkest secrets and childish rivalry but with a month’s worth of laundry on the line, the game was a matter of life or death. Your eyes burned as you struggled to keep them open but you refused to back down now, especially when Dean’s face had begun to turn red with the strain, you knew he was close to breaking.

Then, disaster struck. Right as his eyelids began to twitch with the need to blink, Sam walked into the library wearing a tight white shirt and grey sweatpants and obviously not wearing briefs. Immediately your mouth went dry as your concentration was broken. You didn’t even hear Dean cheer that he won, you just kept looking at his brother who was now browsing the many shelves for something to read.

Dean rubbed at his eyes while glancing at his younger brother before sarcastically remarking. “Looking good Sammy.” Sam responded with a scoff, returning to his search and letting you get a glimpse of his perky backside.

The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, spilling out of your dirty mind like an unstoppable river. “Goddamn, how about you bring that perfect ass over here and I’ll tell you how I can make you look even better.” Everyone froze, including you, and then you opened your mouth again. “You’d look hotter with me sitting on your face.”

Silence settled over the bunker, your veins filled with dread. “Oh god please ignore that I said that- well actually, I don’t want you to ignore it. I really do want to sit on your face but right now I really want to throw myself off a cliff. So I think I’m gonna go do that. Have a nice life boys.” You went to slip from your chair but suddenly your wide hips were pinned to the edge of the table but two huge hands.

Sam loomed over you, his eyes dark with lust as he smirked down at you. “Now why would you go and do that when we could test your little theory.” Your breath caught in your throat. He dipped down, bringing his face to yours until you were close enough to feel his breath on your lips.

“I-“ You stammered. Wetness pooled between your thighs as he stepped even closer, pressing his hardening cock to your soft body.

“Oh what is it baby? Can’t speak anymore? Don’t worry, you won’t be able to stop making sounds when my mouth is on your cunt.” He growled into your ear.

Neither you nor Sam noticed when Dean sprung to his feet and ran off into the depths of the bunker to escape the very obvious tension on the brink of exploding between you. Your fingers tentatively curled into his shirt, making his smile grow. “That’s a good girl, now how about you go to my room and get undressed. I wanna see if you get even more beautiful when you’re on top of me.”

——————

Sam had always found you incredibly intoxicating but even more so now. You were dead asleep on his chest, your breaths even as you slumbered on. Sam took pride in your exhaustion considering he was the cause. He gently stroked the soft skin of your hip, tracing over the texture of your stretch marks delicately as to not wake you.

You sighed in your sleep, nuzzling closer to his bare chest. He kissed the top of your head and with a great amount of care, slipped from your hold. You stirred only for a moment before settling once more. He dressed quietly and slipped out of his room.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen drawing him in like a siren. “Morning.” He muttered as he wandered in, shooting his brother a glance. Dean nodded at him from his place at the small table, drinking his coffee silently.

As Sam poured two mugs of the bitter drink, he spoke again. “She was right, you know.” Dean hummed and looked up at him curiously. “I do look better when she sits on my face.”

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