#spn mixed bingo

[holylulusworld]

Always daddy’s good girl (3) - Kinktober 8

Summary: You are still mad at John...

Rating: lightly explicit

Kinktober Special: Daddy kink

Square 4 filled for @spnkinkbingo: Teasing

Square 15 filled for @spnaubingo​: Public sex

Square 4 filled for @j3bingo​ former @jdmorganmixedbingo 

Pairing: John Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, daddy kink, age gap, established relationship, needy John, dirty talk, light smut, unprotected sex, quickie, voyeurism

A/N: 3rd installment to: Daddy’s good girl & Still daddy’s good girl

Words: 1,3 k

Kinktober 2022

2021 SPN AU BINGO masterlist

2022 SPN KINK BINGO masterlist

Jeffrey Dean Morgan Mixed Bingo masterlist

Another month later John wants you to join the Winchesters for a night out. The last hunt was a piece of cake and now, the boys are up to cheap drinks, fast sex, and celebrating the hunt. Or life in general.

“No,“ you cross your arms over your chest. “Forget it. I won’t go anywhere with you. You still didn’t make things up to me.”

“Doll, don’t be a brat,” John grumbles. He wraps his arms around your waistline from behind to bury his face in your hair. “I apologized. Let daddy buy you drinks and make things up to you some more.”

“Sex and drinks won’t fix that you broke my trust. You just let that guy watch us fuck. I’m not a prude, but letting strangers watch us is a hard limit.”

“I know,” he softly kisses your neck. “I’m sorry, Y/N. This will never happen again. Your man is a jealous and possessive old bastard. But I learned my lesson.”

“I don’t think you did. You only want to get laid again,” you smirk as Sam and Dean walk inside the library. “Look what the cat dragged into the bunker. Two lumberjacks.”

“Did you forgive him?” Dean grumbles. His father is in a bad mood since you forced a dry spell on the hunter. Every chance he gets, John makes sure his sons can’t get laid themselves. 

If John suffers, he won’t let his boys have fun either.

“Like hell,” you size Dean up. “Do you think I’ll just forgive him for what he did? No. Fucking. Way. John Winchester must learn his lesson.”

“What did he do?” Sam huffs as you still refuse to tell them what happened. John presses his lips into a thin line while his sons try to interrogate you. “Y/N, what did he do?”

“He didn’t cheat, right?” the elder brother presses on. “Right?”

“I would’ve castrated him if he cheated on me,” your eyes darken as John tries to kiss your cheek. “If he puts his dick in another pussy, he’s dead.”

“I would never cheat on you, baby,” John mumbles against you. “I swear. You’re the only woman I want. And the only woman I had sex with since we met.”

“Sir, can you not make things up to Y/N? You are on the edge for weeks.”

“Stop asking stupid questions, Winchester.”

Dean easily dodges your attack when you try to punch his chin. 

“No violence, sweetheart.”

“I’ll shoot you,” you grumble, “if you don’t stop asking stupid questions. What happens between me and your daddy is none of your business.”

“Boys, go and change. We will go to the bar and have some drinks. Maybe my girl will forgive me too.”

“In your dreams, Winchester.”

“Careful,” John whispers in your ear. “I’m still your daddy. If you don’t stop acting like a bad girl, I’ll treat you like a bad girl.”

“Well, maybe I should look for a new daddy then,” you wiggle out of John’s embrace.

He sighs deeply as you walk out of the library.

“Baby, I told you that I’m sorry…”

“Just a little more,” you think to yourself. 

John is on the edge. You insisted on dancing tonight. He reluctantly agreed and now, he regrets his decision. You press your ass into his crotch and grind into him.

“Doll,” he warns. “Don’t make me lose control.”

You smirk. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you move your hand behind your head to pat his cheek. “I’m dancing, daddy.”

“You’re getting me hard.”

“That’s not my fault. Maybe you should learn to control your libido, John,” he wraps one arm around your waistline to hold you against his body. John starts to grind his raging hard-on into your ass.

“You are a little troublemaker,” he purrs in your ear. “But I’ll show you how to be a good girl, doll. Daddy will make sure you know whom you belong to.”

Dean watches you turn in his father’s embrace. He chuckles as you shamelessly cup John’s crotch, making even his father blush.

“Sammy, I think we are going to get laid tonight.”

“Dean, we didn’t even talk to one of the women,” Sam huffs. “How do you wanna know that we are going to get laid?“

“Call it a hunch…”

You watch John spread your legs roughly. He darts his tongue out while looking at your dripping cunt.

“See, I told you to not tease your daddy,” he slaps your pussy with his cock, making you whine. It’s been too long for you without sex too. “Do you even deserve my cock?”

John watches you cup your tits. “Cat got your tongue, doll? If I ask you a question,” he slaps your pussy with his hand, “I expect you to answer.”

“Daddy needs to make things up to me,” you coo. “You promised to have sex with me on the Impala to fuck with Dean.

“You really want to mess with my son, huh?”

You giggle.

“I really want to ruin his car with your cum, daddy,” you crook your finger. “Please fuck me. I can’t wait any longer.”

John grip one of your thighs. His blunt nails dig into your flesh as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. “I think you deserve to get fucked by daddy.”

“I do.”

“Daddy is going to give it to you. I know you have missed my cock.”

He slowly inches his way inside your dripping cunt, not giving away he has something special planned for tonight. “Fuck, you’re always so hard for me, baby.”

“Only for you.”

John hooks your legs over his forearms. He wants to control your body and make sure, you won’t move too much. “Hmm…so good and big…”

“So wet and pretty,” you chuckle at his words. “This is my sweet cunt. The one I own. No one touches what’s mine.”

You’re propping yourself up on your elbows to watch John move his hips. His eyes are glued to his cock sliding in and out of your slicked cunt. He can’t look away, even though, he wants to watch your reaction.

Little gasps and moans leave your lips, letting John know that he hits your sweet spot.

John doesn’t have to look at your face. He already knows your lips parted a long time ago and that your eyes are closed. You always close your eyes when the pleasure gets too much.

“Daddy.”

“Shit, you’re already close, aren’t you?”

“’m gonna cum,” shit, it has been too long for you. Your pussy clamps hard down his cock a few thrusts later, dragging John with you over the edge.

“Damn, babe. I wanted to go for longer,” he breathlessly says. “Fuck…fuckity…fuck. That fucking cunt of yours, doll.”

“I don’t fucking care,” you fall back onto the hood to catch your breath. “I love me a quickie on Dean’s car.”

“You’re a dirty girl.”

“You’re a dirty daddy.”

“What the fuck!!!” 

“Uh-oh. I think Dean caught us red-handed, daddy,” you giggle as John doesn’t give a shit his son walks toward his car. He still rolls his hips to ride your highs out.

“I said – what the fuck are you doing on my car!!” the hunter yells at John and you. “You can’t just fuck on my car!”

“It’s still my car.”

“You gave it to me.”

“Deano don’t be mad. I always dreamed of getting fucked on your car,” you wink at Dean. “Did you enjoy the show too, Sammy?”

“Warn me next time,” Sam shudders, but his eyes drift toward your chest. “Stuff for nightmares. Watching your father fuck your stepmother is the worst.”

“Don’t act as if there is no tent in your pants, Sammy.”

Sam's cheeks turn bright red at your words.

“How about you go back to that pretty girl you were chatting up earlier? I think she wants to ride some dick tonight…”

“You will clean my fucking car,” Dean turns around to storm back toward the bar. “I’m getting drunk to get the images of my father’s naked ass out of my head.”

“It’s a great ass,” you snicker as the brothers hurriedly walk away. “Don’t come home before you got laid. I and your daddy want to christen the bunker tonight…”

“And don’t think you will ever see my girl naked again,” John yells. “She is and always will be daddy’s good girl…” 

Tags in reblog.

#john winchester #spnkinkbingo #spnaubingo #j3bingo #john winchester x reader #John Winchester fanfiction #john winchester one shots #smut #john winchester smut #kinktober 2022 #Always daddy’s good girl - Kinktober 8 #kinktober day 8

[imagineteamfreewill]

Crowned

Title: Crowned

Pairing: Prince!Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Whipping, brief language, slight angst, mostly fluff

Square Filled: Secret Relationship

Summary: Y/N is a castle kitchen maid in Lawrence, where Prince Samuel is scheduled to ascend to the throne on Christmas Eve. The extra work takes a heavy toll on her, but there’s something—or someone—else making it an even more eventful season for her.

A/N: This is a submission for the 2022 SPN Christmas Bingo (@spnchristmasbingo​). As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and supporting me in so many ways. I hope everyone has a safe, happy, and healthy holiday season with their loved ones! Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

The village always bustled with activity as you neared the winter solstice, but this year even more so. The prince’s coronation was scheduled for Christmas Eve, which meant in addition to the usual preparations, everyone was getting ready for what was promised to be the grandest event the castle had ever had. Even you were mildly excited for what was to come, and normally you hated your job in the kitchens. 

“Y/N! Where did you put those eggs, girl?”

You sighed as you kneaded the dough on the table in front of you. The head baker had given you the task of making the braided loaves for the castle’s coronation feast. They were one of the traditional dishes that the prince had requested, so they had to be perfect. You’d been mixing, kneading, braiding, and baking from sunup to sundown most days, and when you weren’t working by the ovens, you were out gathering more supplies. She’d sent you to get eggs from Farmer Mills that morning and for milk from Farmer Singer the morning prior. No matter what you did, no matter how hard you worked, it never seemed to be enough. It felt like she’d been harping on you and critiquing your baking every second of every day. You were deciding between throwing something at her or crying. Maybe both.

“They’re with the butter, ma’am,” you called back, holding in the retort you wanted to tack onto the end. Her shrill voice was like a knife and you’d been on the verge of a blinding headache for three hours now. It wouldn’t be long before you’d need to beg her to send you home to rest. She probably wouldn’t agree.

“Are you daft? Come here!”

You winced, pausing mid-knead. That wasn’t a good sign. Slowly, you wiped your hands on the apron tied over your shift and made your way around the other long table. The head baker was in the back room, and as you passed by the other kitchen girls, they all gave you pitying looks of various degrees. You were the newest in the castle, having just started a few months ago after seeking refuge from a neighboring kingdom, which meant you got the brunt of all her anger and stress. Unfortunately for you, her anger and stress were at an all-time high given the upcoming feasts.

“Ma’am?” you asked, standing in the doorway to the makeshift storeroom.

“Come here,” she ordered, and you obediently stepped closer. “Where are the eggs?”

Turning towards where you’d set down the basket, you said, “They are—” You stopped mid-sentence. The basket had disappeared, as had the eggs. “They were there, Ma’am, I promise you. I put them next to the butter as soon as I got back.”

“Well, they’re not there now, wench, so what will you do now?”

You swallowed thickly, tears welling in your eyes. You’d be punished for this. “I’ll go to Farmer Mills’ straightway and fetch more, ma’am.”

“That’ll be comin’ out of your pay. Give me your hand.”

The head baker reached for her whip and struck it across your knuckles as soon as you’d extended your arm. Knowing better than to cry out, you bit down on your tongue and squeezed your eyes shut right as the whip lashed across the back of your hand again. Your skin felt warm where the blood welled up.

Three more lashes and you were free. You darted out of the storeroom and grabbed your cloak from the peg on the wall, wrapping it around your shoulders as quickly as you could. One of the other kitchen girls, Anna, was waiting for you by the door. She wrapped a clean cloth around your hand without a word, then slipped a few coins into the pocket of your apron. When you opened your mouth to protest, she shook her head and gently nudged you out of the kitchen and into the bitter cold.

You took the shortest route from the castle to the farm on the edge of the castle village. Jody’s family had farmed the land for decades. The land had been in her husband’s family since he was a young boy, and you’d become friends with her shortly after they’d married. She was kind and she always made sure you had the best. You hoped now that your friendship would help you procure the eggs you needed during the busiest time of year.

The streets were fairly empty for noontime, but you stuck to the edges of the paths, leaving room for the tradesmen and their wives, the knights, and the ladies that milled about, looking for someone upon which to bestow their Christmas generosity. Boughs of holly decorated the windows and their sills, and the red berries stuck amongst them added festive cheer to the otherwise dreary winter. Candles were already burning in the windows in an attempt to ward off the gray-tinged darkness that threatened each precious minute of daylight until the solstice. The coming winter promised to be a harsh one, but the hope of the evergreens loosened the tight knot of fear in your chest. Christmas was coming, and with it there would be rest and time for celebrations of your own. You’d never attended a servant’s dinner, and Sam would be a king. You knew that to be intimately true, more so than most, especially in the depths of the kitchens.

“My lady?”

A hand on your arm made you turn, and you almost stumbled when you met familiar eyes.

“Samuel,” you murmured, immediately smiling wide. Your cheeks felt warm even despite the cold and you glanced around, hoping no one would notice you talking to him.

He was dressed plainly, in a gray wool cloak drawn up over his head and tied securely around his shoulders, a long brown tunic that you were certain you’d seen before in the squire’s closet, and a pair of leather boots. Sam looked every part a common man, and your heart swelled with giddiness.

“What are you doing here? Someone could see you!” you whispered, though you couldn’t stop smiling. You pulled him under the eaves of a cobbler’s shop, out of the snow and away from prying eyes. The cobbler was deaf, and after you acknowledged him with a polite wave, he went back to his work.

“I was tending to my horse when I saw you leave. I have something for you,” Sam replied. He smiled down at you, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. A thrill went through you when his hands brushed yours as he placed a parchment-wrapped bundle into your hands. He didn’t seem to notice your bandage, nor did he see the blood that had soaked through it.

“I don’t have anything for you.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Open it.”

Hesitant, you began to carefully unwrap the brown parchment. It fell to the ground and was instantly soaked with snow, but you could only gasp and marvel at the fabric in your hands. The dress shimmered in the winter sun, sparkling as the weak light hit it. You’d never seen something so beautiful, and you’d certainly never owned anything like it. The fabric felt lighter than air and as you ran your fingers over it, you held your breath, just in case you might blow it away. Certainly, none of the other kitchen maids or servant girls owned something like this. Not even the finest lady in all of Lawrence owned a dress as beautiful. You weren’t even sure if the royals in your home country had even seen something so fine.

“Samuel,” you finally murmured, and you regarded him with wide eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can, my love.”

His words warmed you from the inside out and you ducked your head, hiding the bashful smile he always pulled from you. “I have no place to wear a dress like this, and Ma’am will surely find out…”

“Come to my coronation.”

Your head snapped up and the smile fell at the seriousness of his request. “What?”

“Come to my coronation,” he repeated. Sam reached out and brushed hair behind your ear. His touch was warm, a welcome relief from the winter chill, but you were too shocked to register it.

“I can’t,” you told him. “It’s not proper for a kitchen maid to attend a royal event of any kind. It’s forbidden. If I did, Ma’am would—”

“It’s my coronation. Nothing is forbidden if I say it isn’t, and I want you there.”

You looked away and stared at the feet of the horses as several knights rode by. Their hooves kicked up dirty slush and pebbles, spewing them over your shoes and Sam’s boots. Sam looked the opposite way, subtly using the hood of his cloak to shield his face from the men. After they’d gone, you didn’t turn towards him again, but you could feel Sam staring at you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely audible over the cheerful calls of men and women loitering in the street. “And once I am king, we can be together. There will be no law to stop us.”

“But there is a law now, and I’m bound to keep it, as are you,” you replied. You pushed the dress into his grasp and stepped just out of his reach, drawing your own cloak closer around you. The wind ruffled your shift and apron and Sam’s hair fluttered in front of his face as he stared down at you with hurt in his eyes.

“Do you not trust me to take care of you?”

“Of course I do, my King.” You bowed your head slightly, silently willing away the lump in your throat.

“Y/N—”

You stepped back again, almost tripping over a pile of firewood. Sidestepping, you lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze for a brief moment. “I’m sorry, Samuel. I must go.”

His flickered to your bandaged hand when you reached up to adjust your hood once more, and your breath caught in your throat when he blocked your path and tenderly grasped your wrist with one hand.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you replied, shaking your head. You kept your eyes down, hoping he wouldn’t see the lie in them, but he hooked a finger underneath your chin and gently guided you to look upward.

“It’s not nothing to me. You’re hurt.”

Your lower lip trembled as you held his gaze, until finally he dropped his hand and you could avert your eyes again. “I cut myself while I was helping cut vegetables. It was a clumsy mistake.”

Sam stood for a moment before he said, “You work in the bakery. Do not think so little of me that I do not know your trade. Tell me the truth, Y/N.”

“Is that an order?”

Even without looking, you felt him tense beside you.

“It’s a request,” he quietly answered. “Tell me the truth, my love.”

His words cut deep into your heart, expertly carving out the softest parts of you and extracting them from the walls you’d built. Sam knew how to get past your every defense in just a moment’s time, and a tear rolled down your cheek as you stared down at the muddy, snow-mottled ground.

“The eggs I fetched for Ma’am this morning went missing. She believed it to be my fault, and I was punished.”

“Punished?” Sam repeated, and you slowly nodded. “Show me, I beg of you,” he added.

You knew that he was no stranger to blood or injury, but the shame you felt while unwrapping your hand was like salt in your wounds. Sam would never understand what your life was like, not now in the kitchens and certainly not before you’d escaped your homeland to come to Lawrence. Accepting punishments you didn’t deserve came easily to you, and the scar that would form across the back of your hand would only be one of many that littered your skin.

Sam took your hand in his once the bandage was removed. He held it gingerly, cradled between his own gentle palms, as he inspected the lashes. They were precise and though the blood had crusted over and dirtied your skin, you knew that underneath the mess, the four lashes stood like tallies across your knuckles and hand. Four identical scars would form, a constant reminder to you and others of your supposed blunder. You’d be forever marked by your inabilities.

“You should see a doctor” Sam finally said, and you pulled your hand away.

“I’ll heal fine enough on my own,” you argued. Before he could say anything more, you wrapped the bandage back around your hand and tucked it underneath your cloak, out of sight. “I truly must go now. If I don’t return with the eggs…”

“Let me walk with you,” he insisted.

You shook your head, but Sam stepped closer, crowding your personal space. “Please, I beg of you. I’ll leave you before we near the castle upon your return. I just wish to be with you before…”

His next words went unspoken, but you heard them loud and clear.

Before I’m crowned King.

Before everything changes.

Before I’m forced to marry for the good of the kingdom.

Before you fade away from my memory.

Swallowing thickly, you looked back down at the ground and nodded. “Very well.”

Sam held out his arm. It took you a few seconds to stir up the nerve to take it, and then he was leading you toward the outskirts of the village before you could think twice. He walked in silence beside you, carefully veering you around large puddles and holes in the ground. He positioned himself between you and the busy village paths and took the brunt of the slush and mud splashing when horses rode by and when children pushed carts full of root vegetables, evergreen boughs, and firewood toward their families’ stalls. The two of you remained quiet even as you walked, and you thought it strange that Sam didn’t ask for directions to Jody’s farm, nor did he even ask the farm to which you were heading. He simply steered you along in silence.

When you finally arrived at the Mills’ farm, you removed your arm from his and gathered your skirts in one hand so you could navigate their crowded land with more ease. Chickens roamed freely in their appointed yard, as did the goats in theirs, but you knew that their son and one of the village boys wouldn’t be far off. They took good care of the animals. A loss of any could surely devastate them all.

Smoke blew from the chimney as you neared their small hut. As soon as you were within a few feet, the door swung open and Jody met your gaze, her own eyes filled with concern. You never visited midday.

“Y/N?” she asked. Once you were near enough, she ushered you inside to the waiting warmth. You immediately took your normal seat at her table, but you glanced back over your shoulder when she wasn’t there to join you. Instead, Jody stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide and her body tense with indecision.

“He’s a friend,” you told her, but she only continued to stare.

Jody suddenly dipped into a low curtsy, her head bowed until she could only stare at the floor. “Your Highness,” she frantically murmured. “I apologize, I did not recognize you from afar.”

From where he stood just outside the door, Sam met your eyes through the open doorway. His hood had fallen, revealing his face, and snowflakes clung to his hair. His skin was pink with cold as he gave you a sad smile, then knelt slightly to help Jody rise.

“Please,” he said, his voice soft. “I am only here to accompany Y/N.”

Silently, Jody looked between you and Sam, and you felt warmth rush to your face, though not from the heat of the fire burning in her hearth.

“Of course, please come in, Your Highness.” Jody stepped out of Sam’s way and gestured for him to sit across from you at the table. She shut the door tightly behind him, then bustled around her small home. You watched for a moment as she retrieved a second wooden cup and began to pour tea. It had been ready to drink already, and guilt as heavy as lead sank to the bottom of your stomach. Jody and her family had little as it was, and now they’d waste their precious tea on you.

Sam took the empty chair and his legs immediately crowded yours under the table. He murmured an apology, then looked around the room. Two beds had been pushed against the wall to make room for the table and chairs. A roll of blankets was tucked atop one of the hay-stuffed mattresses, and several sets of clothing hung on hooks above the second.

“I apologize for the state of my home, Your Highness,” Jody said as she carried over two cups, then placed one in front of each of you. “We make do with what we have.”

He shook his head. “You may call me Samuel. I’m nobody important here.”

Her eyes grew wide and she glanced at you, but you focused on preparing your cup of tea with the small bowl of sugar she’d somehow produced. You knew with every minute that passed you’d get in deeper trouble with the head baker. Still, you couldn’t sabotage Jody’s time with Sam with your own troubles. It was very likely she’d never see him again, just as it was likely you’d never spend this much time with him again after today.

“But Your Highness, you are always—”

“Please,” Sam insisted. “I’m only accompanying Y/N today. I needed to get away from the coronation preparations, and she agreed to show me around the village.”

Of course, you hadn’t agreed to that. You’d barely agreed to anything, and the reminder of the upcoming coronation made tears well up in your eyes.

You inhaled deeply, straightening up in your seat and willing them away. You had to focus on the task at hand. Both Sam and Jody looked over at you as you downed your tea and winced as it scalded your tongue and throat.

“I need more eggs, Jody,” you told her. “The ones I bought from you this morning have disappeared. If I do not return with more…”

You trailed off, but Jody knew what you meant. She’d managed to get you talking one day and you’d spilled the horror stories of the head baker and the punishments you and the other kitchen girls had received. She’d also heard all about the horrors of your previous home. You’d shown her the scars that came with those stories, too. The only thing she didn’t know about you was how closely you held Sam to your heart, but that was a secret you could never betray.

Sam didn’t say anything as Jody quietly excused herself to search their chicken yard for more eggs. You obeyed, sitting completely still with your empty cup cradled between your hands. The bandage kept rubbing against the healing lashes every time you moved. You tried to shift it away from them as subtly as possible, but Sam was watching you like a hawk.

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

Sighing, you turned your head to look at the flames dancing merrily in the fireplace. “Samuel…”

“I only wish for you to be comfortable, Y/N. Why will you not let me help you?”

You looked down at the cup in your hands, fidgeting with the cracked handle. It clacked against the wooden table as you carefully placed it at the edge of the table. The cups were the finest in Jody’s collection, and your stomach twisted at the thought that she might think differently of you now that she’d seen you with Sam. Would she tell the other women in the village? Or her husband? What if her son had seen you, or the other shepherd boy? If someone found out that you’d been consorting with the prince unchaperoned, you’d be done for.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I can’t get accustomed to your help. Soon enough you will be the king and I…”

“You will be my queen,” Sam fervently replied.

Shaking your head, you rose from your seat. The door swung open before Sam could speak up or join you. 

“I believe this will be enough,” Jody said. The basket in her hand was only half full of eggs, but your chest swelled with relief and gratitude nonetheless.

“It will have to make do,” you told her as you dug the coins from the pocket of your apron. “Will this be enough?”

Sam stood and you glanced over at him. His expression was unreadable, but then he nodded slightly, and you quickly looked back at Jody. It only took you a moment to realize that he’d been negotiating on your behalf.

You gripped his arm, digging your nails in until he looked over at you. He kept his expression neutral even as he turned his back on Jody to shield you from her curious eyes.

“You can’t,” you hissed at him. “They’ll ask why you’re paying her money. They’ll find out about us.”

His head shake was small, but not unnoticeable. “Dean won’t tell.”

If Dean knew, then there was no doubt in your mind that Sam had told others about your trysts, and your stomach twisted at the thought. You stepped away, staring at him for a moment longer, then turned and took the basket from Jody, who still stood by the door.

“Thank you, Jody. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you stepped back out into the cold midday air and started making your way back toward the castle. If anyone had stopped to ask you, you would’ve told them the tears in your eyes were from the cold.

The head baker’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard and you hadn’t even made it to the actual feast yet. She’d ordered you and the rest of the kitchen girls to be working three hours earlier than normal, long before the sun even rose on Christmas Eve, and the upstairs servants had told you that the guests were talking about a feast that stretched long into the night. According to Lady Charlie’s handmaiden, most of the visiting royals planned to celebrate until the priests came for the midnight blessing. After that, there would be Christmas feasts tomorrow morning, afternoon, and evening, allowing everyone to celebrate. The leftovers would be taken to the villagers, and then there was the servant’s dinner to prepare for. You were exhausted. Between the extra work in the kitchens and the mental and emotional strain of avoiding Sam at any and all costs, you’d barely had time to catch your breath, let alone sleep or eat.

“Y/N, are you well?”

You glanced over and forced a small smile in Anna’s direction, though you never truly met her eyes. Your brain and hands were focused on the lump of dough sat on the table in front of you. Ever since leaving him at the Mills’ farm, you’d thought of little else besides how Sam could approach you next. He’d always teased you about getting bold and visiting you in the kitchens while you were working, but the very thought of that struck fear into your bones. If the head baker, or anyone, really, discovered your relationship with him, you’d be hung.

“You look pale, and tired. Maybe you should rest.”

You shook your head and tried to muster a little bit more life into your tired body. “I’m fine, Anna. Truly.”

When you looked up at her, she was turned toward you but her gaze was focused on the doorway leading to the castle courtyard. All day long, pages and servants from the neighboring kingdoms had been arriving to serve their own dignitaries, so when you turned to see what she was looking at, you’d expected an exhausted young boy or girl, looking lost and very, very hungry. What you hadn’t expected was Sam.

Sam, dressed in navy velvet, a gold circlet atop his head, and a gold chain resting on his chest. Sam, with shining black boots and his sword tucked neatly against his hip. Sam, with his hair shining in the light from the candles and his eyes focused solely on you.

“Y/N,” he began, and you swallowed thickly, your fingers digging into the dough in front of you. Your legs trembled and you had to lean against the table for support. He stepped through the doorway, ducking down to avoid knocking his head, and slowly approached the table where you and Anna worked.

“I cannot do this without you by my side. It would be wrong for the woman I love to be absent from this part of my life. I beseech thee, with every part of myself, to join me.”

He held out his hand as he stopped a few feet from the table. You couldn’t tear your eyes away and you licked your lips, trying to come up with a suitable response. When notching came, all you could do was gape at him and shake your head.

“Sam, I— I cannot be with you.”

“Yes, you can,” he gently argued. “You will not be punished. You are committing no wrong.”

You closed your mouth and quickly shook your head, glancing over at Anna as you continued to grip the table through the bread dough. It would no doubt have to be thrown out after your mistreatment. No good loaves could come of it now, just as no good would come to you after Sam departed. You were utterly and truly ruined.

“And what’s this? Why aren’t you— Your Highness!”

Whirling around, you stared in shock as the head baker collapsed into a low curtsy. It only took a second before Anna had collected herself enough to do the same. Only you and Sam remained standing, but he was still focused solely on you.

“I cannot,” you croaked, shaking your head. You tried again, more urgently this time. “You need to go, Your Highness. Please.”

Against your better judgment, your eyes flickered down to the scars on your hand. The head baker would surely whip you again for this. When you noticed Sam looking down as well, you hurried to tug the sleeve of your dress down to cover them, but it was too late. His eyes caught the movement and his eyes darkened slightly at the scars, then even further when he saw the whip coiled on its wall hook behind you. Ma’am had left it there as a reminder of what would happen if you or the other workers slacked on your tasks for the coronation or the Christmas feasts.

Sam dropped his hand back down to his side and his other came to rest on the hilt of his sword. He walked around the table, approaching the head backer, who still lay prone on the dirty kitchen floor.

“Are you the mistress here?” he asked. His voice had changed and you shuddered at the formality of it. With you, Sam spoke softly, gently, and with all the earnestness he could muster. Now, his words dripped with displeasure.

Silently, Anna rose and helped you over to sit on a nearby barrel of brined fish. It hadn’t quite made it to the storehouses before everyone grew busy. The smell of the fish was overpowering and it had been all day, but you barely made it to the barrel before you stumbled over your own feet. Sitting in the stink would have to do.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Ma’am whimpered.

You closed your eyes, holding your breath even as your lungs burned. You couldn’t bear to watch Sam fulfill the part of his job you knew he hated. Yes, people far and wide respected him for his level head and for being a fair and just ruler in his father’s stead, but he was also Lawrence’s judge, jury, and, when absolutely necessary, executioner.

“Then I command you to treat your workers with the grace they deserve in my kingdom. This will be your one and only warning.” Sam paused. “My father would not be so kind. You are lucky that I will hold this discovery close. I will be watching you well.”

Ma’am whimpered again, her words unintelligible as Sam backed away and scanned the room for you. Once he found you sitting beside Anna, who’d stood tensely by your side throughout the whole exchange, his face softened.

“What must I do to convince you?” he asked.

You looked down at your hands, ignoring when Anna’s grip on your arm tightened at the sound of Sam’s voice directed toward you. 

“Samuel… I’m but a servant. What we had needs to end now that you are becoming king. You must marry for the good of the kingdom, even if it is not what you desire.”

“You sound like my father,” he replied, a hint of humor in his voice.

His footsteps were soft as he crossed the room, stepping over the baker. His sword bumped against the leg of the table when he stopped a few feet away from you and Anna.

“May he rest in peace. He was a wise king, and you will be too,” you added.

“I will be even better with you by my side, Y/N. I love you, and I always will. You cannot ask me to try and give my heart to another, not when it will always be with you.”

Tears made your vision blurry until you finally looked up at him. His expression was pained as he waited for you to reply. When Anna gripped your arm even tighter, unable to stand the silence any longer, you shook your head.

“And what of your people? They will speak ill of me. Will you be able to handle that?”

“No one will—”

“They will,” you interrupted, giving him a sad smile. You sniffled and patted Anna’s hand to signal her that she could let go. When she did, you carefully stood from the barrel, but you didn’t move away from it. “They will, my love, and you cannot punish them for it. They will be jealous and confused and angry that you chose someone so unworthy of your love, but fighting against their venom will only make it worse.”

Sam fell silent as he searched your face. Finally, he answered, “Are you accepting me, then? Will you stand beside me today, and every day after?”

After a moment, you nodded and offered him a small smile. “Yes, Samuel.”

Beside you, Anna laughed in pure relief, and you glanced over at her. She tried to muffle it, but you began to laugh as well. Sam surged forward and took your hand in his, making you look back at him. He dipped low to press a kiss to the back of your uninjured hand.

“I believe there is even a dress waiting for you, my lady,” he said.

You laughed a little more then, and when Sam took your hand to lead you out of the kitchens and up into the castle, you didn’t resist. Instead, you turned to wave at Anna. When she called after you in hopes that you’d come visit her in the days to come, you nodded fervently. You’d never forget the friend she’d been to you since arriving in Lawrence, and you’d repay her kindness tenfold.

Sam led you up to the main hall of the castle, where his older brother stood waiting in similar clothes. His robes were a deep red and the circlet on his head was also gold. The sash across his chest bore the Winchester crest, and the polished hilt of his sword gleamed bright in the winter sun streaming through the windows.

“You work in the kitchens?” he asked once you and Sam had fully emerged from the staircase. 

Tentatively, you nodded and glanced over at Sam, who’d positioned himself between you and the hall, shielding you from prying eyes. A tall evergreen decorated with candles and red berries stood proudly behind Dean.

“Yes, sire,” you replied, dipping into a slight curtsy. While you were certain that he’d disregard your show of respect given Sam’s affection for you, Dean was still captain of the King’s guard and that title alone was enough to make you tremble. He held more power than most people knew.

Dean scoffed and reached out to take your other hand. He bowed and kissed over the scars. His touch was gentle and you felt your face grow warm. Being kissed by one Winchester brother was enough to make your heart race, but two? You were practically floating, and Sam chuckled knowingly when he caught your somewhat dazed expression.

“Come, my love. Dean will be the one to escort you down the aisle for the ceremony,” Sam murmured.

You blinked and looked up at him, at a loss for words. Being left to your own devices in the upper parts of the castle was a terrifying prospect, especially since Sam was the one who’d escorted you up. If you were caught without him… You’d heard horror stories of servants who’d assumed too much of themselves. You shuddered.

“You will be perfectly safe,” he reassured you. He squeezed your hand and nodded encouragingly, but your stomach still churned with nerves. 

When you glanced over at Dean, he nodded as well. “You have my word that I will not leave you, Y/N. I am sworn to my brother’s protection, and therefore I am sworn to yours,” he said.

Slowly, you forced yourself to exhale and nod in agreement. “Very well.”

“I will see you soon, Y/N,” Sam said. He dipped down and pressed a kiss to your cheek this time. The flour that clung to your skin didn’t seem to bother him, and underneath the white dust your cheeks grew warm for the umpteenth time since he’d arrived to pull you from the depths of the kitchens. Sam always seemed to be able to turn you into a lovesick young girl, but you weren’t about to complain.

Sam backed away. You watched in silence as he turned, then strode down the hallway with such purpose that the path in front of him cleared immediately. Most of the crowds you had seen entering the castle for hours were nowhere in sight, but no one in the hall stopped to bow as he passed, as they had for King John. You wondered if he’d requested such behavior or if things would change once he was crowned. Since you’d begun meeting in secret months ago, Sam had never struck you as the kind of person who demanded a person’s respect. He always earned it in his own subtle way, just as he had earned your affections. He’d snuck past all your defenses in less time than it took you to escape from your home country.

Once he’d disappeared from view, Dean lifted his arm for you to hold. You gratefully accepted and let him guide you in the direction of the masses.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you entered the main part of the grand hallway.

“To the coronation,” Dean replied. He steered you around a group of knights who had gathered along the edge of the hall.

You stumbled and gripped his arm even tighter as ice cold panic flooded your veins. “The coronation? Now? I thought it not for a few hours!”

With his other hand, Dean steadied you. He slowed his pace for a few steps, then stopped when you planted your feet in the plus golden rug, refusing to move.

“Yes,” he answered, “the coronation. Where did you think we were going?”

“I— I did not know, but I am not— I cannot go to the coronation!” you hissed at him. You glanced down at your shift and the thin leather shoes you’d been wearing for years now.

“That’s horse shit. Of course you can go. Sam’s requested your presence, Y/N. You won’t be turned—”

“Maybe not,” you argued, “but I won’t truly belong.” You pulled your arm from his. “I’m dirty. I smell like yeast and fish. I don’t know the proper way to act or the proper things to say. I can’t dance. I don’t belong here, Dean, and one man’s love cannot change that.”

He watches you for a moment before his expression softens. “I believe that is why he cares for you, Y/N.”

You stared at him, confused. In your head, there’d been lists of reasons for Sam to turn you away. There’d been an even longer set of ways that the people of Lawrence could dismiss you from the coronation, each one more humiliating than the last. How could he love your faults?

Dean gently guided you to take his arm again, then began walking toward the cathedral at the far end of the castle. “You are not of royal blood, and you were once a stranger to Lawrence, but you’re intelligent. You’re quick, and you make him happy. Not a day has gone by that he hasn’t spoken of you, and he’s mentioned no less than a thousand times how beautiful you are.”

“Truly?” you asked, and he chuckled. When you glanced over, Dean stared straight ahead, but he smiled.

“Truly.”

You stopped before a set of doors that stretched high above your head, ending in a point only inches from the lofted ceiling. The wood shined in the candlelight and you shivered as guards on either side pulled them open for you and Dean. A gust of wind blew through the cathedral, making the candle flames on the golden stands all around you dance and flicker. Rows of dignitaries inside turned at the sound of the giant doors creaking open and every bit of giddiness from Dean’s commentary drained out of your body.

“You swear that this is what Sam wants? That this isn’t a trick?” you asked, looking up at him.

Dean regarded you with a soft smile. “I swear, Y/N. I gave my word that I would protect you, did I not?”

Hesitantly, you nodded. “This is true, but—”

“Then you are safe with me. I’m the captain, and they will obey me”

You took a deep breath, then nodded again. “Very well. I’m ready.”

He dipped his head and forced his expression into a neutral one before stepping forward. You kept your eyes focused on the grand altar at the front of the cathedral as Dean led you down the center aisle. The ladies and lords on either side of you gasped and whispered as you passed. It took every fiber of your being not to turn and run the other direction, and by the time you’d reached the steps that led to the altar, you were trembling.

“You are safe,” Dean whispered. He leaned in close to you so that only you could hear. “They cannot harm you, nor will I let them try.” When you shakily exhaled and nodded in understanding, he continued, “Sam will arrive soon. After he is crowned king, you will take his arm instead of mine.”

Confused, you looked up at him just as the fanfare began. “What then?” you asked.

The twinkle in his eye made your stomach flip. “And then you will join us at the feast. Sam can have new clothes brought for you, if you would like, and you will celebrate with us. I believe he had a gown made for you especially. Did he not?”

Before you could answer, Dean straightened and lifted his fist to place it over his heart, just like the other knights did as Sam entered, but his other arm stayed in place to hold you steady. You clutched it tightly as the music continued and Sam processed down the center aisle of the cathedral. Long strands of evergreen garland marked his way. You marveled at his steadiness amid the grand procession. Children selected from the village and from royal families assisted with his robes and men in heavily decorated robes of their own carried tall, pure white candles and shining gold artifacts ahead of him.

Sam looked every bit the king you knew him to be. In the time since he’d left you in the care of his brother, Sam had donned a red sash embellished with the Winchester crest. A long navy robe trailed behind him, trimmed with white and composed of the richest velvet and fur you’d ever seen. His expression was grave and steady, though you knew his nerves hid deep down inside of him. Sam had told you how scared he was to be king. He didn’t want to let down his people or harm them in any way, but you had faith in him. All of Lawrence did, too. If they didn’t, his father wouldn’t have allowed him to be crowned king until it was absolutely necessary. Instead, John had made way for his son to take the throne at a much younger age than he had. In his last breaths, John had ordered for there to be no royal advisors or interim leaders in between his death and Sam’s ascension. It was only to be Sam leading the people, and you agreed wholeheartedly.

The ceremony passed quicker than you’d expected, and soon Dean was leading you across the dais to where Sam stood, newly crowned. He looked out over the visiting lords and ladies with the same serious expression as before, but when he turned to look at you, the sun shone through the stained glass in the massive basilica. You couldn’t help but smile back as he took your hand in his, bowed, and kissed the back of it. The gasps from the gathered crowd were but background noise as Sam lifted his head just enough to catch your eyes from below.

“My King,” you greeted. Your cheeks ached from the intensity of your own smile, but you couldn’t stop. The sun shone down upon you, casting colored shapes across Sam’s face and the robes that swirled around his feet like dark ocean waves.

“My heart,” he answered.

Thank you for reading! <3

If you liked this story, please reblog! That is the best way to share your love for my work and to spread it so that other people can enjoy this story. If you would like to support me further, please consider supporting my writing by donating on Ko-fi, supporting me on Patreon, or commissioning a story of your own!

@mrswhozeewhatsis​​​ @alexwinchester23​​​ @shaelyn102​​​ @lyarr24​​ @supermoonpanda​​​ @ultimatecin73​​​ @musiclovinchic93​​​ @shamelesslydean​​​ @mlovesstories​​​ @ellie-andthemachine​​​ @fandomoniumflurry​​​

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam x reader #sam x you #sam winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester reader insert #sam winchester angst #Sam Winchester Fanfic #sam winchester x y/n #sam x y/n #sam winchester x plus size!reader #sam winchester x female!reader #spnchristmasbingo #spn christmas bingo 2022 #imagineteamfreewill #supernatural #SPN #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #spn fic #spn fanfic #sam winchester fluff #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #jared padalecki #sam winchester fic

[spnrareships]

SPN Rare Ships Bingo

Welcome to the SPN Rare Ships Bingo!

What is it?

The Supernatural fandom loves its bingos, y'all. We’ve got @spnkinkevents, @spnabobingo… I mean, actually it would take us years to list all the bingos in the Supernatural fandom so we’re not going to waste your time. (There’s a fairly decent list of them all here, if you want to look. This blog was even born as a merging of two bingos: @spnrareshipbingo and @spnpolybingo.)

In a nutshell, though, a bingo is a prompt event organized on bingo cards, where each square includes a prompt. Once you “fill” the prompt, you can cross it off of your card. Get a bingo by filling prompts horizontally, vertically, diagonally, or blacking out your whole card!

This bingo will be a whole two months to celebrate all of the rare ships in Supernatural. Whether it is platonic, romantic, familial, or any other kind of relationship is up to you!

When is it?

March 1-April 30, 2024

What are the prompts?

Everyone’s Bingo Card will be different! We aren’t assigning you cards, however - you get to randomize your own. Click the links below to randomize yourself a card, based on the prompts available for that color card. You may keep randomizing cards until you get one you’re happy with.

RED All-In Card (all below prompts possible)

ORANGE Shipping Card (all Ships + all Characters)

YELLOW Mixed Card (all Het Ships + all Characters)

GREEN Fellas Card (all Slash Ships + Male Characters)

BLUE Ladies Card (all Femslash Ships + Female Characters)

PURPLE Non-Ship Card (Prompts + All Characters, no pairings)

How do I participate?

No sign ups are required! Choose a card above (we ask that you stick with one card, please - if you black it out you can choose a second card, etc.) and post any and all Rare Ship fills during March and April. Be sure to include #spnrareshipsbingo5 and tag us @spnrareships in your post. We will reblog everything we see, but if we haven’t reblogged your work within 24 hours please send us an ask.

We also suggest that you screenshot/save your card and make a masterpost on your tumblr to keep track of your fills - we’ll ask for links to your masterposts at the end of the bingo so we can promote them!

What extra bingo rules do I need to follow?

One fill = one square. Do not use one fic or chapter to fill two squares. (To black out your card, you will create 9 fills. If you have a multi-chapter fic, each chapter can count as a different square.)

Reminder: Please review our General Rules, which apply to all events we host. If you have any questions, feel free to send in an Ask!

#spnrareshipsbingo5 #spnrareshipevents

[kirathehyrulian]

🔮Witch!Sam Bingo🔮 🚘🐺Friday Drive🐺🚘

(Please do not edit/alter. Feel free to reblog, but please do not repost. At the very least please give me credit.)

Square Filled: wolf!familiar Event: @witchsambingo​

For more art from me please check out my “myart” tag here on Tumblr. 👇(Art Notes and sketch below the cut) 👇  

Art Notes: I finally finished my first square for the Witch!Sam Bingo!🙌 I’ve been trying to do that for a year now, but I couldn’t settle on an idea for any of the squares. Finally, last month I had sketched out this on cardstock paper, thinking I should try again at another traditional ink and marker drawing:

And I like where this sketch was heading. I was like what’s not to love with mixing classical spn with witch!Sam elements? But, I knew I should just take it over to digital instead of risking me screwing up the inking process with traditional mediums. So I took a picture of it and traced, adjusted, and fixed stuff in Sai. But, it took me so long to get it all done because I kept procrastinating with it. I was just, for some reason, struggling to work on it. Eventually, when I got to the end of the shading and all of the lighting stages I mainly just slapped it all down just to get it done. I wanted to be finished. It’s been hard to art lately. I can get spurts of art in every once in a while but it is not reliable.

The background was an image of a cornfield I found on google that I took to Ps elements 15 to motion blur and change the coloration, lighting, and shading. I really could not be bothered to do a hand drawn background here. And tbh, I don’t think it would have turned out as well if I did. I’m actually pretty happy with how the background turned out.

I probably should have Gaussian blurred Dean but, I didn’t want to take the time. The me right now is satisfied enough with it.

References that I used for Sam and Dean: For Sam’s face I referenced a flipped 7x06. Sam and Dean’s outfits/body’s and inside of Baby I referred to both 1x02 and 1x05 where Sam and Dean are in the car. For the wolf I referenced two google images of an orange-ish wolf that I thought looked pretty. (One that was just a side profile of the head. The other a full body side profile)

I have no idea how to approach the other eight squares, but I’m hopeful that I’ll get some ideas eventually. It’s a lucky thing for me that the bingo decided to drop the deadline. Otherwise none of this would have happened.

But, for now I can at least cross one off the grid.

I didn’t really listen to anything specific for this....well I did keep relistening/rewatching electricmonk’s vid for a little bit towards the end so that kind of counts. Too gorgeous of a vid not to rec anyways.

And, I think that’s it. Enjoy, if you can!♥♥♥

#sam winchester #witch!sam #witchsambingo #gencest #gencest art #sam winchester appreciation #dean winchester appreciation #impala 67 #myart

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Dirty, Dirty Little Secret

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Also on AO3

Summary: Crowley has lots secrets. He’s still alive and hiding, for example. But his dirty, dirty little secret is much darker than this. He thought no one knew, but then, he found him. His former friend, now possessed by an archangel. And Michael has a deal Crowley cannot refuse.

Pairing: Michael!Dean x Crowley / Crowley x Dean

Warning: Smut, Noncon / Dubcon, p in a, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, bottom!Dean, Top!Crowley

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2131

Square filled: @spnkinkbingo​: Crowley/Michael / @lgbtqbingo​: Michael!Dean

A/n: Not me forgeting the spn kink bingo deadline is in 5 days haha! I’m gonna try and write as much as I can before the deadline. So, this was one of the square on my card. Happens during season 14 when Dean is possessed by Michael. Canon divergent, Crowley never died. 

This is dark, please, mind the warnings before clicking on the keep reading.

“How did you find me?”

It was barely a whisper leaving his parted lips. The room was silent, dead silent, only the steps on the floor creaked through the silence.

The bar had been empty for months now, with the exception of him. In the farthest isle he could find, he hid, bought a creepy, old dirty bar, and stayed there.

Out of all the lights in this place, only a couple of light bulbs were still working. The man didn’t think it was necessary to replace them, he wasn’t afraid of the dark. He was the darkness, well, he used to be, before he-

“It wasn’t hard.” The voice sent shivers down his spine. If there was one thing he would never forget, it was Dean Winchester’s raw voice, scratching every inch of his meat suit. “I have to admit, faking your death, your big sacrifice to save the day… I was impressed.”

The creaks stopped close behind him. Crowley didn’t turn around, not that he didn’t want to. Hell, he wanted to look at him, his friend, the man he had the weirdest love hate relationship ever, but he didn’t. He missed Dean, all of those months hidden here, in this bar, his little private paradise… He thought about him. Especially that summer they spent together when he was a demon too.

He shouldn’t have so many emotions. Feelings. He was a demon, for fuck sake. The king of hell- well, the former one… He wasn’t human. The demon felt no attachment, no regrets, no fear.

But when Michael and Lucifer showed up and other alternate realities mixed with all of the troubles he had maintaining control in hell, he just…

“Bailed,” the voice continued. Crowley sighed, placed his glass of whiskey on the counter, and finally turned to him. “You ran away Crowley… Everyone thought you were dead.”

“That was the whole point, actually.” Crowley knew who he had in front of him. Even if he heard and recognized the voice as Dean, he knew he wouldn’t have the hunter in front of him. Not really. “Fake my death, run, hide, bla bla…” 

The moment he laid his eyes on him, Crowley knew he would get all of those feelings he spent months burying back. He hadn’t seen anyone ever since he faked his death, and Dean… Was Dean. 

Crowley’s gaze scrunched the man carefully. His hair was longer and slicked to the side. It was a very nice outfit he was wearing, white button shirt, waist coat sweetening the curves of his chest, and an overcoat thrown over. As a last detail, a red tie was tied to perfection around his neck.

The demon had to admit, the archangel had taste. That shirt really brought out Dean’s strong figure, especially his shoulders.

“Didn’t run far enough,” the archangel tilted his head to the side. The more Crowley detailed the man in front of him, the more he could see him under the shell. Michael. Dean finally said yes to him. So his sacrifice went useless, in the end, if the WInchester thought necessary to say yes to that bastard in order to defeat the big bad devil.

“Well. I tried,” Crowley sighed dramatically. “You can do what you came here for.” Turning around, the demon took his glass of whiskey and drank the remaining of it. “Kill m-”

But when he turned again, it was to be face to face with a way too familiar face. Michael was now in his personal space, so close Crowley could see the stubble barely visible on his chin and smell the aftershave he used. Not the one Dean usually used, but still, under that fake expensive perfume, the demon could also detect something familiar.

Dean’s smell. Cheap alcohol. Motor oil. Gun powder. Bad motel soap. 

A lump got stuck in Crowley’s throat as he tried to hide the true feelings that were raging inside of him. His dirty little secret.

“You know I can see everything Dean saw, I have access to his memory. But I wanted to see it myself just to be sure.” The shadow of a smile stretched on Dean’s lips, completely taking Crowley’s focus. That wasn’t Dean. He had to remind himself of that. But still, the demon’s gaze stayed on the lower part of the archangel’s face. “I don’t want to kill you. Actually, I’m here for business.”

That actually teased Crowley’s inner, lost business man. "Business?"

The smile crept up further on Dean’s face. “I can deal with heaven. With earth. But once this place is destroyed and humans are all dead, I don’t want to deal with what’s under. I need you to take your place back on the throne and deal with all the filthy demons.”

That, Crowley didn’t expect. Michael stepped back, the half non-natural smile still on his face. He was waiting, watching Crowley for any reaction.

“You want me to-” A sarcastic laugh echoed in the room as Crowley turned around once more to refill his glass. “Bloody hell, sure didn’t expect that. And what on heaven or earth would you think I want to be ruling hell again? To be honest, I would rather prefer you ending me right now.

“I’ll give you something in return.”

For a moment, with his back turned and lots of whiskey in his system, Crowley could almost hear Dean. If he focused enough, he could change his pitch a little to match Dean's grumpy one. Michael was speaking slower, so it felt a bit weird… But if he focused, it was like he had his pal back. “What possibly could I want that you have?”

No answer to that question, well, not with words. Behind him, Crowley could hear rustling of clothes, then something light hitting the floor. Turning around, the demon quickly understood.

Michael knew. The thing Crowley wanted but never took even if he could. His dirty little secret.

In front of him, he had everything he ever wanted to see. His chest was perfect, broad, strong shoulders above a soft, defined stomach. Happy trail disappearing in his probably expensive tracksuit. Pale skin, probably way too soft under his hands.

“You always wanted a piece of Dean, and I’ll gladly give it all to you. See, angels don’t care about sex. It’s something God created for humans to have fun and incite them to procreate. Somehow, you’re still human enough to desire Dean.” Michael outstretched his hands, offering Dean’s body like a cake on a plate for a birthday.

A part of Crowley knew this was wrong. It was Dean, inside, and clearly, he hadn’t given his consent. But then, Crowley remembered. 

He was a demon, for fuck sake.

“Alright, let me just write the contract.”

-

It felt like heaven.

Strange thing to say from a demon from hell.

But being inside of him, inside of Dean, his warm, tight, probably virgin hole… It felt like heaven.

Dean could take him whole, and it was surprising for someone with little to no experience with men. 

“I see those extra inches are of good use,” the man under him commented in a low, unbothered voice.

Crowley grinned. “This isn’t my body, of course. But I didn’t pick this meatsuit for his good looks, obviously,” a harder thrust sent Dean’s body a bit forward. A barely audible whimper could be heard as Michael was caught off guard. It was the only thing that could get a response out of him. Otherwise, the archangel would not make a single sound.

“If you think this will be enough to humiliate me, or to get a vocal response, you’re wrong,” Michael groaned like he read his thoughts. The back of the archangel was turned to the demon, his elbows resting on the counter of the bar. His perfect ass cheeks were presented to the demon that was currently balls deep inside of him. “This body is having normal reactions to what you’re doing.”

Of course, that didn’t convince Crowley. Yes, he knew the human body pretty well for having tortured plenty of them. But the person inside the said body could feel everything. And the hard on the angel had was proof of that.

“Alrighty then, you won’t mind if I pick up the speed a little bit, don’t cha?” 

With those words said, the demon gripped the angel’s hips tightly, pulled out completely of the abused hole and thrusted rougher than the previous time. Another whimper blew between the lips of the man under him as Crowley repeated the same movement over and over again, with the same roughness, picking up the speed every time he pushed back inside. And quickly, he was pounding, balls slapping against the now very hard cock hanging between Dean’s legs. 

“That’s enough,” Michael managed to say after a few tries of finding his breath back. Crowley was sure the archangel was about to break the contract and push him away, but hell, he would still be satisfied with what he had. It felt so good, if it was the last thing he felt before his end, then it would be the best way to go. If seeing Dean’s perfectly built back and watching his cock disappearing between his small, round cheeks were the last thing he would see, well, he saved the best for last.

But Michael didn’t push him away. Humiliation did touch the angel though, because the next voice that called his name wasn’t his.

“Crowley, you son of a bitch!! Get out!”

A shiver of pure pleasure ran through the demon’s spine upon hearing the familiar voice. “Dean, finally…” The hunter tried to push himself away from him, but Crowley held him back against the counter with the force only demons have. “Hope you enjoy the show, Michael.”

“Fuck off! Get off!” Dean shouted, but it took only one thrust to shut his pretty mouth. “Fuck…” Was now a whimper he tried to hold back. Of course, getting back the control of his body while he was being fucked stupid, Dean wouldn’t be able to fight for long. 

“You’re enjoying it, look at how hard you are,” Crowley whispered as he resumed his movements. As hard and fast as before, the demon groaned as he felt the hole tighten around his cock. “You can’t tell me you never did this before, squirrel, it’s like your hole is made for me.”

“Fuck… You…” Was all Dean could say before his insults turned into quiet moans. 

“Fucking you, I am doing just that,” Crowley grinned as he slowed down, only to grab Dean’s cock in his hand. Matching his thrusts with his hand, he jerked off Dean real good. Truth was, hearing his moans was all he missed to cum. Michael was good and obedient, respecting the contract, but not very vocal. Dean, on the other hand…

“Fuck… fuck… Gonna- oh fuck, son of a bitch…”

A few moments later, his hole was squeezing him impossibly tighter, it was hard to keep moving. The cock in his hand twitched and hot cum stained the bottom of the counter. The sound Dean made as he came, a mix of a moan he tried to hold back and a groan of frustration, was all Crowley needed to meet his own end. 

Before he came, he pulled out and finished on Dean’s ass cheeks. Not that he didn’t want to fill him with his cum, he dreamed of it. He dreamed of seeing his seed overflow from the tight hole he was just in. But it was part of the contract. He could fuck the body, but was not allowed to soil it.

“Now that this is done,” Crowley muttered as he dressed up again. In front of him, Dean was still motionelles. Then, like he was animated like a puppet, the body straightened and turned to him. A part of Crowley was sad to see Michael back behind the wheel. Even if the moment he spent with the real Dean was short, he really enjoyed it. “Guess I have some work to do now, don’t I.”

“You better respect your part of the contract, demon,” Michael groaned, his eyes flashing blue. There was a slight frown on his forehead, like something was hurting him. “Dean is quite mad at you and banging like crazy in there.”

Crowley nodded. Dean would be mad at him, and the demon knew, if he ever got the archangel out of his body, he would hunt the shit out of him. But hell, he was a demon. Dean was a hunter. Wasn’t it what they always do? Cat and mouse game?

“It was nice hearing you again, Dean. Until next time.”

And then, with a clap of his fingers, Crowley was back in hell. The throne was empty, but dozens of demons were surrounding it. “Hello everyone. Missed me?”

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278​ @siospins2​ @kazsrm67​ @wtrpxrks​ @deanwanddamons​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @charred-angelwings​​ @jensendreamland​​ @deanswaywardgirl​​ @happyt0exist​​ @waynes-multiverse​​ @djs8891​@mimaria420

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245​​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​​ @eevvvaa​​ @wickedinspirations​​ @fictional-affairs​​ @awkward-and-indecisive​​ @cryptichobbit​​

Supernatural Tag List: @cryptichobbit​​ @sexyvixen7​​ @stixnstripesworld​​ @charred-angelwings​​ @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​​ @lyarr24​​ @fiftyshadesgrl​​

#spnkinkbingo #lgbtq bingo #dean winchester #michael!dean #michael!dean fanfiction #michael!dean oneshot #michael!dean x Crowley #dean x crowley #smut #supernatural dean #supernatural crowley #supernatural michael #tw noncon #tw dubcon #crowley x michael #michael x crowley #supernatural michael x crowley #supernatural michael x crowley smut #supernatural oneshot #supernatural smut oneshot #supernatural smut

[hintsofhoney]

Incubus

Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader (mostly platonic)

Summary: The case you and the Winchesters are on turns out to be a monster under your bed.

Square(s) Filled: Demon for @spnmixedbingo​

Tags: 18+, crack, language, dirty dream, very light smut (literally just like... neck kissing lmao), I literally have no idea what this is but I’m also obsessed with it (???)

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I wrote this for @there-must-be-a-lock’s Fics Against Humanity Challenge as well as for @smol-and-grumpy’s What the Actual Plot Challenge. For Fics Against Humanity, my prompt was, “Defenestration is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off” and for the What the Actual Plot, I had to tell a story about the time the monster under my bed tried to seduce me while including a snow storm, chakra cleansing, diabetes, and a porn addiction. This was beta’d by my lovely @deangirl93​🤍 Prompts will be in bold. GIF is mine. I hope you guys enjoy whatever the hell this is.

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“So, how do you know this guy again?” you asked, staring out of the backseat window as you watched snow-covered mountains appear on the horizon. 

“Think our dad worked a case for him years ago. I dunno. Never met him. But he said he thinks that it’s ‘something John would know how to deal with’, so I figured that’s gotta be our kinda thing,” Dean replied, placing his hand in front of the vent to the lower left of the steering wheel in an attempt to warm it.

“We’re driving to a cabin in the middle of buttfuck Wyoming in the dead of winter on a hunch?” you asked irritably, crossing your arms over your chest as you sat back in your seat, the cold of the leather seeping in through your clothes. You hated sitting in the back of the Impala during the winter time – the heat could be on full blast and it still wouldn’t reach you, leaving you to freeze no matter how many layers you had on. 

“We’ve driven further for less,” Dean reasoned, shoving a few gummy worms into his mouth as he tried to keep his eyes on the road. 

You sighed – he was right. But that was in the summertime, and Baby’s AC worked much better than her heat did. “Slow down on the gummy worms, will you?” you changed the subject, not wanting to go back to the boring quiet that had been consuming the car prior to your first question. “You’re gonna give yourself diabetes.” 

“Yeah, right,” he snorted. “I’ve never even had a cavity, Y/N.” 

“Diabetes and cavities have nothing to do with each other,” Sam chimed in, giving his brother a questioning look. 

“Yeah, they do. You eat too much sugar, bam – cavities. Even more sugar, bam – diabetes. If I haven’t had enough sugar to give me a cavity then I really haven’t had enough to give me diabetes.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Not at all how that works,” he sighed, before looking over to you in the rearview. “You got a word of the week for us, Y/N?”

You smiled at his question before pulling out your phone. Hunting tore you away from your regular life when you were in your third year of college – and you had always hated that you never got the chance to finish. You were an English major, and so, in an effort to retain at least a little of what you had learned, you had a ‘Word of the Week’ app installed on your phone. Every Sunday it’d give you a rare word, and then you challenged yourself to use it within the week. Sam being Sam liked joining in on the fun, but Dean always used the opportunity to make fun of you – lovingly, of course. 

“Defenestration,” you announced, reading from your ‘Word of the Week’ app. 

“Sounds dirty,” Dean snickered, plopping another gummy worm into his mouth.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s the act of throwing someone out of a window. In other words, what I want to do to you most days.” You weren’t lying – the green-eyed hunter did get on your nerves about 98% of the time… but the other 2%? The other 2%, when he was cupping your face after you had nearly been knocked out cold from a fight, asking if you were okay with worry in his eyes, or when he would make you a burger just the way you liked it without you having to ask because he could tell you were hungry, or when he would call you ‘sweetheart’ to get your attention while asking the most simple of questions, like ‘Sweetheart, have you seen my boots?’, like you were his and not just a best friend that he lived with – those were the times that you found yourself wishing that the two of you were more.

“Haha,” Dean deadpanned in response to your snarky remark as he stared back at you in the rearview. 

You shot him a sarcastic smile in return, and Sam chuckled softly at the interaction. “Well, not sure how we’re gonna use that one this week,” he said, turning around to face you with a look that said, ‘got any ideas?’.

“Sam, we hunt monsters. At some point, someone’s getting thrown out of a window.” 

“As long as it ain’t me,” Dean piped up through a mouthful of gummy worms. 

“No promises.”

A few hours later Dean was pulling up to your destination, all three of you sharing the same speechless expression as you took the place in. Before you had left, he had somewhat briefed you on the case, explaining that Jim, the man who had called, owned a cabin out in the Wyoming mountains that he liked to rent out during the winter months. He had failed to mention that the “cabin” was more like a modern log mansion with massive floor-to-ceiling windows on the top and bottom floors, a balcony, and a front porch that was probably the size of the bunker’s library. The three of you slowly got out of the car, staring up at the fortress in front of you.

“Is this the definition of a cabin these days?” you asked, not even caring about the freezing mountain air biting at your cheeks – you were too excited for the opportunity to live in luxury for a few days – even if you were here to fight a monster.

“Guess so,” Dean replied, his hot breath visible as it mixed with the cold air.

The three of you began walking up to the front door after collecting your duffels from the Impala, still in awe of your home for the next few nights. Not sleeping in a musty roadside motel room was a luxury that you were never able to afford. In a way, the size of the place would make the case slightly more difficult. Dean had explained that the last few renters had claimed to hear whispers in the middle of the night, along with the feeling of being watched while they slept. No flickering lights or cold spots, but after the previous family had checked out, apparently there was a faint smell of sulfur in the air. Jim had gotten everything checked out by the gas, water, and electric companies, and he was told that nothing was wrong. That was when he had decided to call John, whose voicemail had directed him to Dean.

You watched as Dean bent down and picked up the doormat, grabbing the house key from underneath it. You readjusted the bag on your shoulder as he unlocked the door, allowing you and Sam to go in ahead of him before he stepped in after you, closing the barrier behind him. 

The inside was even more impressive than the outside. The front door opened into a massive open floor plan living room and kitchen with enough seating for you and every hunter you knew, a large flat screen TV above the fireplace, and what had to be at least a ten foot tall Christmas tree before the two-story window that looked out into the front yard. Your gaze followed up the tree, your neck craning backwards to look at the high ceilings, before spotting the loft above the kitchen which had a hallway on either end of it that you assumed led to the bedrooms.

The three of you were all doing the same thing – slowly spinning in place as you looked around, none of you ever having stayed in something this nice before.

“Jim said we can have the place as long as it takes for us to kill this thing, right?” you breathed.

Dean nodded, taking a few steps further into the house and glancing down the hallways that branched off of the living room in either direction.

“Then let’s take our time.”

After a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, courtesy of Jim and his fridge which he assured you all was for guests, the three of you agreed that it was best to get some shut-eye as the drive had been long and you were all worn out. You had managed to snag the master bedroom (thank you to whoever invented the rule of “dibs”), and it was almost ten by the time you had showered and gotten into bed. The large window behind your headboard allowed the sound of the high winds outside to fill up the room, the soft whooshing soothing you to sleep. For a moment before you drifted off, you could have sworn you heard someone whispering, “I want you” from underneath your bed, Dean’s face popping up in your mind a few seconds later, whispering the same thing in your ear as he trailed kisses down your neck, and your ability to distinguish reality from your dreams left you as you entered a deep sleep.

You woke up the next morning with a tightness in your abdomen, arousal between your legs, and your heart racing. You turned onto your back, staring at the ceiling as you tried to forget the dream you had. Your mind wandered back to the whisper you heard before you had fully entered your fantasy, wondering if it could in any way be related to the case you were here for. You pulled the comforter off of you with a frustrated sigh, making a mental note to ask the boys if they had heard anything last night too, as you opened your bag and pulled out some leggings and a work-out tank. Before you could do anything else, you needed to clear your head of the dirty images of Dean that were still floating around in it, and there was no better way to do that than with some morning yoga. 

Making your way downstairs with your yoga mat tucked under your arm, the smell of bacon and eggs filled your nostrils. You nodded a quick good morning to the brothers, Sam at the stove making eggs as Dean sat at the counter with a half-eaten piece of bacon in his hand.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he greeted, raking his eyes over your body quickly – though it didn’t go unnoticed by you. 

He watched as you set up your yoga mat in front of the Christmas tree, chuckling as he saw you realize that the view of the front yard that had been there yesterday was now gone, replaced by a five foot wall of white snow pushed up against the glass. 

“Snow storm last night,” Sam explained. “We’re stuck here ‘til it melts, whether we kill this thing or not.” 

“Jesus,” you replied under your breath, “that’s like, five feet of snow overnight.” 

“You didn’t hear it? Fucking blizzard outside kept me up all night,” Dean mumbled irritably, taking another bite of his breakfast. 

You shook your head, thankful that you were facing away from them as you felt a blush rise in your cheeks when you thought about why you didn’t hear anything last night. You took a deep breath as you sat down on your mat and closed your eyes, bringing your hands in a prayer position to your chest. Trying to clear your mind, you zeroed in on your breathing, attempting to ignore the pair of eyes that you were feeling on your back. 

“I didn’t know you cleansed your chakras or whatever when we’re on cases,” Dean stated.

“I’m surprised you even know what a chakra is,” you replied with a mental roll of your eyes and another deep breath, doing your best to ignore him. 

“You should try it sometime,” Sam chimed in, as he scrambled the eggs in front of him.

“What, yoga?”

“Yeah, it’s good for you. I do workouts with Y/N in the morning sometimes. I couldn’t touch my toes a few months ago, now I can.” 

“The hell would I ever need to be able to touch my toes for?” 

Their conversation faded into the background of your consciousness while you zeroed in on your chest rising and falling, allowing a wave of peace washing over you as you maneuvered your way into a downward facing dog a few moments later.

Dean swallowed down the groan that almost escaped him, masking it with a cough as he acted like some bacon went down the wrong pipe. He had always known that you had done yoga in the mornings, however, you usually always did it in your room, and on days that Sam had joined you, it was before Dean was ever awake. If this was the sight that he had been missing out on, maybe he could try some self-help touchy-feely yoga crap himself. 

Sam cleared his throat, bringing Dean out of his incoming dirty thoughts, as he placed some scrambled eggs on his brother’s plate. He mumbled a thank you as he turned around, and you silently thanked Sam in your head for distracting him, because having him watch you was doing nothing to clear your mind of the night you had.

About 15 minutes later you were rolling up your mat, satisfied with your workout and ready to start the day. Leaning the squishy material against the couch, you made your way to the counter, taking a seat next to Dean as you piled some bacon and eggs onto your plate. With your head a little clearer, you decided to ask them if they had heard anything other than the wind last night. 

“So,” you began, shoving a forkful of eggs into your mouth, “did you guys hear anything else last night? You know, besides the blizzard.” 

“What?” Dean questioned, confused.

“Whispering, for example? Like the renters had been hearing.”

“No. Did you?” Sam inquired.

You shrugged. “I think so? I mean, it could have been –” you stopped dead in your tracks, realizing that you were toeing the line on admitting that you had a dirty dream, “ – nothing. Like, I could have been imagining it or something.”

“What’d you hear?” Dean asked.

“Um, it was weird. Like, seductive, almost? ‘I want you’ was what I heard.”

Dean had to work to keep his laughter at bay and you shot him a look that could kill as you shoved a mouthful of egg into your mouth. 

Sam let an amused huff escape him. “You sure you weren’t just hearing Dean’s porn addiction from across the hall?”

The older Winchester scowled at him, opening his mouth to reply before you interrupted.

“Guys, I’m serious. It could be the thing we’re here for, right?”

Dean sighed in defeat. “Okay. Where were the sounds coming from?”

“From under my bed.” You kept a straight face, despite how ridiculous you knew it sounded.

“Are you tellin’ me there’s a monster under your bed trying to seduce you?” Dean snorted, but you didn’t find it funny at all. 

“Look, I know it sounds ridiculous, and I could have imagined it for all we know but it does fit with what Jim was telling us, right? Whispers in the middle of the night? It’s worth looking into.” 

“No, I agree,” Sam smiled sweetly, and you gave him a grateful look as you stood up from your stool and walked your plate to the sink. 

“I’m off to shower, then we can get to work.”

The search was not going well. While Sam had stuck to the lore and his laptop – the things he was best at – you and Dean had torn the master bedroom apart from top to bottom and put it back together again. The only place you hadn’t checked was under your bed – in part because you didn’t want to hear Dean making fun of you for it, but also because you were partially scared that this maybe wasn’t a monster at all, but some creep hiding under beds and whispering his version of sweet nothings to people while they slept. Somehow, demented humans made you more uncomfortable than the supernatural ever could.

“Are you serious?” he asked, as he caught you staring at the bed, mustering up the courage to look underneath it. 

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ serious! Do you know how creepy it is to have some voice whispering “I want you” to you in the dead of the night?”

“I just call that a good night,” he smirked.

Rolling your eyes, you let an irritated huff escape you as you folded your arms over your chest, feigning annoyance and pretending like his joke didn’t bring back images of him whispering the same three words to you in your dreams last night. “Will you please just check?” you asked, swallowing your pride.

Dean held back a chuckle as he walked over to the bed, dropping to his knees one at a time as he lifted the comforter out of the way. “See?” he prompted, glancing over to you as he motioned to the darkness underneath with his whole hand, “Nothing under here but some…” he trailed off as he ducked his head to take a better look, before finishing his sentence with, “sulfur. Well, I’ll be damned. There was a monster under your bed.”

The two of you made your way back down to the kitchen after your discovery, where Sam was still sitting at the counter, trying to find an explanation for the whispers that you had heard last night.

“Anything?” he asked hopefully, as Dean and you came to stand across from him.

“There’s traces of sulfur underneath her bed,” the green-eyed Winchester replied, his tone lined with a slight hint of disbelief.

“So, demon then?” Sam questioned.

“Can’t think of anything else that it could be.”

A smile spread across Sam’s lips – you knew that smile. It was the one he always got before he said his most famous phrase –

“So, get this,” he began, turning his laptop at an angle so all three of you could see. “The Incubus is a demon that preys upon sleeping women in order to engage in sexual activity with them,” he read. “It is said that the Incubus disturbs and seduces women in their sleep – some have even reported hearing seductive whispers coming from underneath their beds.” 

“Well, that sure as hell sounds like our guy,” you scoffed, always amazed by Sam’s nail-on-the-head research abilities. “How do we kill the fucker?”

“Well, it’s still a demon, so…”

“Right, but… it would need a vessel,” you reasoned. “There’s no one in my room, we’ve looked everywhere.” 

Sam sighed in thought as he leaned back in his seat. “Well, we could always start an exorcism. That might bring it out of its hiding spot. And then one of you can gank it when it comes out.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “Sounds like a plan.”

Half an hour later, you found yourself standing in the master bedroom with Sam and Dean on either side of you, all of you staring at the bed that you had had the best dream sex (or was it technically real sex, if the demon entered your mind as Dean?) of your life in – not that they would ever know that. 

You nodded to Sam, signaling him to begin, readjusting your grip on the demon blade in your hand. Your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest – you weren’t good with jump scares and you had a feeling that this was going to be one. With all six eyes trained to the bed, expecting the demon to somehow appear from underneath it, none of you noticed the dresser door slowly opening across from it. Sam was nearly halfway through the exorcism when you saw movement in your peripheral, and that was when Dean yelled, “It’s in the dresser!” and you launched yourself at it as it stepped fully out of the wardrobe. You hadn’t noticed the large window in between the dresser and the bed until you were charging full force at the vessel in front of you. Catching it off guard, you felt the blade go into its chest, the validating sizzle and spasm of light erupting from it letting you know that you had done the job. You, however, couldn’t stop your momentum, and the next few seconds were a total blur as you heard glass shattering and then suddenly you were on the floor and the demon was nowhere to be found. After a few moments of dumbfounded silence, you realized what you had done. 

The boys came to join you as you looked over the edge of the window sill, the cold air biting at your faces as it filtered into the room. You chuckled as you saw your creepy admirer laying face up in the snow, demon blade still lodged in his chest. Dean let out a groan as he realized that he was going to have to make his way through five feet of snow to retrieve it, but you were grinning from ear to ear.

“The hell’s got you so smiley?” Dean asked. “And why’d you run at it like that!? Could’ve gotten yourself killed!” 

You shrugged as you took one last look at your demon friend, and then turned your attention back to Dean. “You know what they say. Defenestration is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off.”

#what the actual plot challenge #fics against humanity challenge #spn mixed bingo #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural crack #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural

[wayward-dreamer]

A Real Valentine

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Sqaure/s Filled: getting stood up @spnmixedbingo​​

Word count: 2,149

Summary: Y/N has plans for Valentine's Day with someone she just started seeing, but finds herself alone on the night. However, a run in with Dean turns everything around, for both of them.

Warnings: Slight angst, a lot of fluff

A/N: This is also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo, square filled: mutual pining. Just a little fluff for Valentine's Day! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Y/N spent all day pampering herself. For the first time in a long time, she had a date on Valentine’s Day, so of course she had to go all out.

She did her nails, shaved everything hoping that the date would lead to something, took a long bubble bath with scents of salts that calmed her nerves and relaxed her before she went out. She had chosen her outfit the day before, a deep red top with black jeans and her gold high heeled pumps, which she loved wearing. She didn’t often get to because of hunting, so any time she got to wear any shoes other than her brown lace-up hunting boots, she took it. She decided to go a little fancier with her make-up, stroking a shimmering eyeshadow across her lids and winged eyeliner, big, thin gold hoop earrings for jewellery as she left her hair down and added a little wave to it with her curler.

As she stood in front of the mirror in her room, she smiled at her own appearance, never having seen herself so dressed up before. FBI suits didn’t really count, and it was a rare occurrence for her to go on dates, so when it happened after a long time, she had to take the chance. She had met Jake at a bar one night when she, Dean and Sam had found themselves without a case. He offered to buy her a drink and hadn’t been a sleaze about it which was refreshing, which led to them flirting and him asking her for her number. She gave him her fifth one, the one she didn’t use for hunting, and they ended up going out for dinner a few nights later.

That date led to another, which led to texting while she was on the road with the guys, which led to Valentine’s Day plans that she was really happy about.

Y/N picked up her black coat and purse, walking out of her room and down the hallways of the bunker. When she made it to the kitchen, she saw Sam sitting at the table, in his normal position with his laptop in front of him. Leaning against the threshold, she smiled as she waited for him to notice her presence. When he finally looked up, he matched her expression.

“You look great,” he complimented, closing the laptop slightly to give her his full attention.

“Thank you,” she accepted, stepping down into the kitchen. “Dean head out yet?”

“Yeah, just left,” he replied, smirking slightly as he rolled his eyes. “Practically left skid marks on the garage floor.”

She giggled, shaking her head as she sighed. “Wish he had waited, so I’ll just take one of the cars.”

“Have a good night,” he said, winking at her.

“You gonna be okay on your own?” she asked, walking over to him and leaning in for a hug.

“I’ll be perfectly fine, trust me,” he replied, patting her back as she pulled away.

“Okay, well… if you get bored Dean’s Casa Erotica DVDs are in the bottom drawer-” she started but he picked up a pen and threw it at her, causing her to guffaw. “Okay, kidding, I’m kidding.”

“Get out of here, Y/L/N,” Sam stated, a small smile on his face as she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“See you tomorrow,” she called out as she left the kitchen.

Y/N drove into town after picking one of the more reliable cars parked in the bunker, finding a spot close to the restaurant and making her way to dinner. The place was quaint and intimate, with candles on each table and soft lighting throughout. She followed the waiter to a table in the back, sitting down and waiting for Jake. She was a little early, so he was no doubt on his way to meet her. She ordered a glass of wine, her mind wandering off as she thought about the possibilities the relationship could bring her. She had started thinking about how to leave the hunting life, the years that she had sacrificed to save people finally taking its toll on her.

When she met Sam and Dean, she hadn’t been in a good place, and they had made hunting just a little easier by being with her every step of the way. She couldn’t imagine life without them anymore, and they were the reasons she stayed in the life, with them in the bunker. Sam had become like a brother to her, and Dean… well, things with him were complicated. She had fallen for him quickly, but considering long lasting relationships and hunting didn’t mix, she never said anything. She knew he wouldn’t be interested in her in any romantic way, anyway.

And yes, she was a hunter dating a man who wasn’t, but it was a risk she had to take if she was ever going to find that white picket fence reality.

Y/N’s first glass of wine turned into a second, which had her heart beating rapidly in her chest at the thought that something bad had happened to Jake. She picked up her phone, texting him to let her know if he was okay. When ten minutes passed and she got no response, she decided to call. She groaned as it rang a few times and went to voicemail, his voice alerting her to leave a message.

“Hey it’s me… I’m at the restaurant, have been for nearly twenty minutes. Where are you? Let me know you’re okay, please.”

When thirty minutes turned into forty, she ordered a third glass of wine, knowing what had just happened.

She had just gotten stood up.

Refusing to cry until she was in the safety of her room, Y/N stood up and gulped down the wine, dropping a few bills on the table before she walked out. She was too buzzed to drive, stepping out of the restaurant and taking out her phone to call an Uber, knowing that the guys were going to hate her for having to get the car in the morning. She needed whiskey and her stash of chocolate as soon as she got home and into her PJ’s, hoping she could forget all about this stupid holiday and everything it represented. She used to be one of the cynics before she became more of a believer of love, and she supposed this experience was going to send her right back to the former camp again.

As she waited her phone chimed, a message popping up on the screen. Hurrying to pick it up, her body filled with rage as she read the words that the man who she thought she was seeing had written.

Hey, Y/N. I’m sorry but I think this is the end of the road for us. I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves and should call it quits, start seeing other people. Take care of yourself.

She knew what “start seeing other people” meant. He already was.

However, as she stood patiently for the cab, she realized that she was more upset about being stood up rather Jake being the one to do it. It just affirmed that her heart didn’t belong to him, and to the green-eyed hunter instead.

The one she had fallen in love with but who she knew would never love her back.

Dean walked out of the bar, a heavy exhale leaving him as he shook his head, his features pulling into a scowl as he made his way down the sidewalk in the brisk chill. It was Valentine’s Day or as he liked to call it: Unattached Drifter Christmas, his favorite holiday. Usually, he was up for being some woman’s Mr. Right Now, but once he got to the bar, he sat at the corner of the bar top, nursed two beers and couldn’t bring himself to talk to any of them. A few had come up and flirted with him, hoping for his number but he just couldn’t do it. His mind had constantly been on one woman in particular, which was stupid because it was one woman he shouldn’t have feelings for. Y/N. Y/N who was on her date with another guy. Y/N who had fallen for as soon as he laid eyes on her.

He knew he should’ve tried to say something to her sooner, before stupid Jake swooped in that night and had her agreeing to a date before her second drink, but he never mustered up the courage to do it. As much as he tried to hide it, he only admitted it to himself in his dreams that he wanted more than just hunting. He wanted Y/N by his side and not just as a friend, fighting monsters until something caught up to them. He wanted a quiet life with her, maybe a couple of kids if she wanted them too, and just have the time to just… be.

As he continued to stroll down the path, he frowned as he saw a familiar figure standing outside a fancy restaurant, the only one in Lebanon. As the woman turned, his eyebrows raised in surprise to see Y/N, her features etched with dejection.

“Hey, thought you were going out?” he asked as he approached her.

“Dean, hey,” she breathed, surprised to see him as he stood in front of her. “Uh, yeah… didn’t take. Um… things with Jake are over.”

He tried not show his elation at that knowledge, offering her a soft smile. “I’m sorry. What uh, what happened?”

“Well, I got stood up and then he texted me that it’s over and we should see other people, so…” she trailed off, huffing a bitter laugh. “It’s been a great V Day.”

“You deserve better than that,” he stated, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Gotta be honest, Sam and I weren’t big fans.”

“I figured,” she said, looking up at him, a small smile on her face. “I don’t think I’m upset that it was him, just… that it happened, you know?”

Dean nodded, turning them around and walking towards the car. As they strolled, Y/N’s mind reeled, thinking about why he was even out here with her in the first place. It was unusual for him, especially on Valentine’s.

“So… why are you not at your usual bar enjoying your night?” she asked, curiously. As they reached the car, she leaned back against it, gazing into his green eyes.

“Honestly?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s the best policy, they say,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

Dean breathed in deeply, taking in the features of her face, how beautiful she looked in the moonlight, and how all of that was just a bonus to the amazing person she was. Stepping forward, he placed his hands on her covered shoulders, sliding them up to cup her face. Her eyes widened slightly but fluttered shut as he leaned in, their lips molding together in a soft, but passionate kiss. Her petite hands took hold of his jacket as she lightly pushed into him, not wanting to let go.

Dean pulled away briefly, leaning his forehead against hers. “I’ve wanted to do that since we met.”

“Really?” she asked, a note of hope in her voice. Hope that the little revelation meant he cared about her the way she did for him.

“Yeah,” he whispered, smirking.

She beamed, pressing her lips to his again, a few short, sweet kisses between them before their eyes locked on each other. “So, what now?”

“Well, we gotta make up for lost time,” he stated, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her close. “Cause I shoulda told you a long time ago that you’re it, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t until now.”

Sighing softly, she laid her head against his chest, his steady heartbeat like music that could comfort her in her darkest moments, an anchor which let her know that she was going to be safe in his embrace.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you either,” she responded softly, a soft smile spreading across her face as she felt his calloused hands run through her hair.

“Let’s get outta here,” he whispered, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

Taking Y/N’s hand and helping her into the car, Dean sat in the driver’s seat and revved the engine, pulling away from the curb. Not even a minute later, he smirked as she leaned into him, their eyes on the road but both working an expression of joy and holding hope and love for each other in their hearts.

Dean’s hand played with the strands of her hair as he drove them home, and well into the morning once they finally came up for air, finally together in the way they had always longed to be.

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#SPN Mixed Bingo #Tell Me A Story Bingo #Dean x Female!Reader #Dean x Female!Reader One Shot #Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Dean Winchester One Shot #Dean Winchester Fluff #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Supernatural Fanfiction

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For the night (Dean Winchester x Plus Size F!Reader) Part 1 of 2

For the night

Summary: Horrified by what he’s done Dean decided a walk in the rain is just what he needed to clear his mind. Along the way he finds himself falling into the arms of a beautiful stranger.

SPN Mixed Bingo square: Only one bed @spnmixedbingo​

Pairing: Dean x Plus size F! Reader, Surprise x Plus size F! Reader

Setting: Set first in season 10 after episode 10.9, moves to just after season 13 episode 13.20.

Rating: R, NSFW

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap if you plan to tap), cheating, Wet Dean (yes it needs a warning) angst, hurt, body image issues, oral sex, female receiving,  

Word count: Part 1: 5,891 (With lyrics) 

Notes: The Song “All I wanna do is make love to you” inspired this little fic Halestorm’s version

Tag list: @spnmixedbingo​ @jaredpadelckibae

Fingers tapping out a rhythm on the leather wrapped steering wheel, eyes keeping on the slick road ahead. Thinking for the hundredth time that a drive in the pouring rain wasn’t such a good idea. Thoughts swirl in your mind making it harder to focus, the fight with your parents and partner still very fresh in your mind. You knew this life is what you’ve asked for, signed the document, spoke the words, and pledged your life to another. At times asking yourself if you truly loved him, if he truly loved you if the lifestyle you shared is worth the trouble.

Eyes having drifted to stare almost blankly out the windshield narrowly missing the stranger hunched over walking in the driving rain. Instead, almost drowning the poor soul when the tires splashed through a big puddle. Shaking your to the very core, foot slamming on the breaks to screech to a halt. Heart pounding in your chest surely, it’ll crack a rib or three. By the time you’ve gotten yourself under control, breathing still coming out in sharp pants, a tap nearly makes you jump out of your skin and into the metal roof of your car.  

It was a rainy night when he came into sight Standing by the road, no umbrella, no coat So I pulled up along side and I offered him a ride He accepted with a smile, so we drove for a while I didn't ask him his name, this lonely boy in the rain Fate tell me it's right, is this love at first sight

“Hey, Mario Andretti, you okay in there?” large hands cupped around a face that heaven surely must be missing.

His words barely registering in your mind, though his voice is another story all together as you’ve found yourself mesmerized by the deep timber. It takes another tap on your window to bring you from the stupor you’ve found yourself in.

With shaky fingers that depress the down button, wet glass sliding just a few inches down. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

“Fine, managed to jump outta the way,” leaning on the roof, rain still pouring down soaking his clothing. “Though if your aim had been better it’d been a different story.”

Barely registering his words as large drops soak your sweater though you can’t bring yourself to turn away from the handsome stranger standing at your car door nor close the window. It’s like your hypnotized by some force that’s keeping you from moving.

The clearing of a throat makes you jump once more and break the stupor you’d found yourself in. “Can I offer you a ride? It’s the least I can do since I just tried to mow you down.”

“That’s…” pausing Dean leans in a bit, dashboard lights barely giving a glow but what he can see makes his heart thump a little quicker. Maybe it had something to do with the mark on his arm, but a bigger part of him says it’s because of the way your warm scent hits his nose. The soft way you’re looking at him makes his mouth go dry, and other parts of him take notice. “It’s no trouble really.”

“No,” reaching for the handle, you start to get out, but for the strong hand holding the door closed. “Please let me make it up to you, I can at least get you to the next motel. It’s just down the road a piece.”

He wants to say no, to not take the chance of this woman getting hurt because of him. Yet, there’s something in your plea that tugs at a part of him that he thought he buried a long time ago.  

With a small nod of agreement, Dean rounds the front of the car, pausing only long enough to open the door, and slide into the cloth seats. “Leather seats would’ve been a better choice,” deep rasping timber states as he glances over at you.

Having closed your window against the downpour, you turn your attention to the stranger occupying the passenger seat. “Owner’s choice, so shot gun can shut his cake hole,” lifting a brow he can barely see in the dim interior. Most of your face cast in shadow when your turned towards him, though he catches the slight upward tug of your lips.

He has to stop the snort from leaving his mouth at your words. So very similar to ones he’s said to Sam many times about his music. “Touché sweetheart,” he chuckles accepting the offered towel, your fingers brushing for a moment sending different a kind of shiver down your spine.

“Sweetheart isn’t my name,” though you couldn’t help but enjoy the way he said it. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” testing the name out on his tongue while running the towel through his short chestnut hair making the strands stand up. Extending one hand, “Dean.”

Accepting the offered hand, feeling long strong fingers wrap gently around yours. Sending warmth to spread across your cheeks and body wondering just how skilled those hands could be and how they would feel on your body. Pulling back, a shake of your head to dispel those thoughts. Gold band in your pocket grows heavy with guilt over the salacious thoughts currently flowing through your mind.

“What brings you out on a night like this Dean?” question asked filling the silence with a question, knowing there’s not a good radio station to dial into for miles around.

Soft snort leaves his lips while wiping down his red flannel covered arms. “Could ask you the same question sweetheart? This isn’t the kind of night for man nor beast.”

“Good thing I’m a woman then huh?” you snark back. Having enough of people underestimating you and your worth to this world.

“Woah pump the breaks sweetheart I didn’t mean to insinuate anything by the comment. Just that the weather is pretty crappy and unless you have floaty strapped to your ass goin’ out ain’t advisable.”

Nodding slowly eyes now focused on the wet road ahead of them. Bottom lip trapped for a moment between your teeth to chew on. “I’m sorry for snapping at you it’s been a long day,” apology leaving your mouth. “Same could be said of you Dean and surely not fit for someone to be walking without an umbrella or a coat.”

“Left’em,” comes the quick reply, waving your apology away.

Catching the subtle shiver that barely shakes his frame out of the corner of your eye. You reaching behind the seat, feeling around for the fleece blanket you kept in the car for times just like these. Finding the soft material and pulling it up to the front, handing it to Dean. Who just looked at the offered blanket like it’s ready to bite him.

“Promise it’s clean and it won’t bite,” trying to keep the small chuckle from your lips. “But I might,” thinking you’ve said the last part to yourself.

But the amused snort tells a different story as your hands brush when he takes the blanket. “As long as I can bite back sweetheart.”

Feeling a touch flush at his words, you try to keep your eyes on the road ahead. But they have a mind of their own diverting towards his profile every time you drive under a streetlight too few and far between for your liking. Humming lightly to the sweet melody of songs playing on the radio ones you still listen to today. Hoping it wouldn’t sound to horrible to your passenger’s ears.

Meanwhile, Dean wrapped the warm blanket around himself, breathing in the mixture of Egypt musk and fabric softener. Never thinking the combination would have an effect on him. Much like your present, it’s soothing in the chaotic world he normally inhabits. A balm to a soul he thinks he miss placed or totally lost, but at this point he didn’t care. All thoughts of what he did, not even a few hours ago seem to slip from his consciences as sleep starts to steal over him. Your sweet voice a warm caress to his battered heart.

 Half an hour later, you pull into the second spot by the motel office door, debating with yourself to either wake Dean or let him sleep. You turn staring for a moment at the relaxed face, brows smooth from the furrowing they did earlier. Peaceful from the torment gracing his countenance upon seeing him in the bash broad light. Mind made up, you slip from the car quietly glancing back a few times to make sure he didn’t wake till you entering the motel’s office.

Homely, though a little worse for wear, the motel having seen better days as memory serves. Though times have been hard and little mom and pop places are slowly leaving the landscape. Like so many other past times you grew up enjoying. A pang knocked on your heart for those simpler times before the shit show that is your life happened. Hands rub together for warmth then wrap around your thick waist to ward off the cold while trying to push those thoughts aside.

Before more thought can be given to those idea’s an older woman appeared, friendly smile sliding across her aged features, small twinkle in grey blue eyes. That have seen life for more years than most can count.

“What’s a sweet young lady like yourself doing out on a night like this?” Soft voice with hints of an accent filtered to your ears.

Match her smile albeit a touch shyly, “Caught in the storm sadly ma’am and underestimated just how bad it could get.”

“Ah yes, many have done that this night sweetie, it’s why we’re almost filled up.” Coming to the desk, she pulled the worn sign in book towards her to see what rooms would be available. “But you’re in luck Miss there’s one room left with a double bed.”

Rubbing your temples thinking back to Dean who’s still passed out in the passenger side of your car. Then to the storm, which happened to remind you of its presence at that moment with a loud clap of thunder and lighting following.

Glancing up at the older woman, “You wouldn’t happen to have a room with twin bed’s, would you?”

Kind eyes furrow in misunderstanding, “Sadly no Miss just the one room with one bed is left.” Looking around you she spots a slumped figure coming towards the door, “You might want think quick since another person is coming.”

Turning just as Dean enters the small foyer. If it’s possible he makes the homey area look even smaller. All broad shoulders, trim waist and thick bowed legs, you try to keep your eyes respectable but it’s damn hard to when he looks so good. Black undershirt plastered to a wide set of shoulders; molding the wet fabric to his body deliciously. To a little tummy you wouldn’t mind snuggling into. Jeans much the same way almost painted on sinful and barely hiding anything from your imagination.  

“Oh, sweet Mother Mary, if I was just twenty years young,” you hear the older lady whisper from behind you. Thinking she has the right idea. “That man should come with a warning label.”

Coughing, trying to hide the half groan, half chuckle that tries to leave your lips. You swallow thickly and turn back trying to hide your embarrassment, “Yes that’s my little problem…”

“Sweetheart I see no little problem,” she intones with a saucy wink your way. Looking over your shoulder to give Dean a hard once over, eyes lingering a little too long. “Though and no offense sweetie but with mister buff body and your curviness I’m not sure that old bed will make it to morning.” Giving you another wink this one of pure mischief.

Clearing his throat Dean comes forward stepping up next to you on the left warmth radiating off his body. Making you shiver in reminder of how cold you’ve become. “We’ll take it ma’am if that’s all you have.”

Gapping up at Dean, mouth working but no sound coming out as an arm, strong, warm and heavy wraps around your waist to pull your plushier form into his. Feeling the wetness of his clothing press into the naked parts of your skin. Another shiver shakes your body this one very different from the last and has you pressing your thick thighs together.

“Ar… are you sure?” words barely slip passed your lips while watching as Dean takes the keys and signs the register, sending the kind lady a wink.

“Honey I think he’s more than sure,” laughter light as she watches Dean all but pull you from the front desk.

Once outside in the rain pouring drenching the both of you, you pull away from the warmth that is Dean’s body. Turning on him with a fury in your eyes, “What the hell did you do that for? You could’ve taken the room and I would’ve left,” voice carried off by the wind and a clap of thunder that shakes you to the core. Arms wrapped once more around yourself to ward off the chill settling into your bones.

“Saving your sweet ass from hitting any other unsuspecting pedestrians,” itching to grab you and pull you close once more. “Now you gonna move that cute ass of yours or am I gonna have to move it for you?” a challenge flashing with the lighting in his whiskey flecked green eyes.

Your own shocked wide with his words, you take a small step back though the snort still leaves your lips at the very idea. “Empty threats,” hands waving them off like smoke in the air. “And you have an unhealthy fascination with my ass.”

You go to turn around and head back to your car when a hand grabs your wrist, spinning you around like a top and into his arms. Hauling your soft body against his, arm clamping around your waist as you both stand there staring at each other. While the storm threatens to bring Thor himself down on your heads. Raging around the two of you, setting off lighting, winds whipping your hair haphazardly.

“I don’t make empty threats sweetheart,” eyes flashing once more before he bends putting his shoulder into your middle and all but tossing you over his shoulder.

Please don't make it wrong, just stay for the night All I wanna do is make love to you Say you will you want me too All I wanna do is make love to you I've got lovin' arms to hold on to

One arm wrapped around just under your ass to keep you in place while he strides towards the closest door. Slotting the key and hastily opening the age wood, to walk through and only putting you down once the door is kicked close by the heel of his boot.

Standing there shivering, speech having fled the moment he put his arms around you, even more so when you felt his hard body pressing into yours. No one except your partner had ever man handled you in a way that both turned you on and made you want to punch the shit out of them.

Finally finding your voice, “What the flying fuck do you think you’re doing?” rage seething in your tone, as your eyes spit fire.

“Keeping your ass from dying in some stupid attempt at trying to drive through this storm. That’s what the fuck I’m trying to do,” words matter of fact, timber of his voice brooking no argument.

Shocked that he would care about a total strange like you. “Why?” Is out of your mouth before you can stop it. Single syllable sounding so lost, hurt that it has Dean pausing on his way to the bathroom.

Tears having mixed with the rain on your cheeks, anger gone just as quickly as its came and all that’s left is a hollow feeling in your gut. Arms wrapping around yourself once more as the events leading up to this moment come flooding back. Arguing with your mother about your weight. How it’s keeping you from having the family you want. That one day your husband will up and leave you for another smaller, prettier woman who could give him the children he wants. All these words, hurtful and stinging bite into your skin even now that your miles away. You had doubts that your marriage would last. Thoughts swirled around you mind every time a new recruit would show up. That his eyes would wander to them and leave you behind alone, abandoned like your mother did so many times. The very thoughts have you shaking, hot tears making tracked down your cold cheeks as your legs almost give away.

If it hadn’t been for a pair of strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling your against an equally hard body. The scent of leather, whiskey and a touch of musk invading your senses making you lightheaded. There’s no fight left as Dean leads you over to the bed, taking a seat and pulling you onto his lap. One arm goes around your waist to keep you steady as the other wipes at the tears tracing a path down your cold cheeks with the calloused pads of his fingers. Heart literally pounding out of his chest for a woman he didn’t even know.

Staring into swirling orbs of pain, his life experiences, killing every supernatural bad guy that goes bump in the night. Bedded, lusted and loved all different kinds of women, and none of that prepared him for this moment. A duck out of water when it came to soothing the opposite sex hell for that matter anyone. All Dean could think to do is hold you against him, brushing his hand that’s not holding you against him up and down your arm. Though as another shiver runs down your body, he knows the two of you can’t stay like this. Both of you wet and cold, even with the warm heated air swirling invisibly around you.

“Do you have a change of clothes in your car?” asking his own question as yours is lost in the moment unsure of how to answer it anyway.

Nodding slowly, head bumping Dean’s chin as you go to move off his lap and towards the door. He stops you with a gentle hand on your forearm. Making you turn to look up into the same swirling whiskey flecked green eyes. Feeling like you could get lost in the depths of them and not return.

“Key’s I’ll get the bag,” seeing you nod and pull the keys from your jeans pocket to hand him. “Go dry off and start to undress while I head out. Don’t want you to get sick.”

Before he leaves Dean brushing one finger over your cheek just a ghost of a touch that has you yearning for more while watching him head back out into the miserable weather. You stare for a few moments before heading to the bathroom barely closing the door to a crack. Dark blue sweater blouse plastered to your skin that you peal off carefully. Not wanting to put a hole in the lace insert that covers your chest but gave a shadowy peek of cleavage. Placing it on the sink, leaning on the cold tile for a moment before grabbing a towel to slowly start patting yourself dry.  

Staring at your reflection, mascara tracks that color your cheeks, eyes glossy with unshed tears. Making you drop them and keep drying your skin. Not wanting to see the pain written in the depths wondering how you’d get yourself out of this predicament. Not meaning the one where you have to share a single bed with a total stranger, but the other you keep hidden in your heart. In the distraction of cleaning up you don’t hear Dean come back, dropping the keys on the table by the door.

He steps farther into the room, bag deposited on the bed when he turns, his eyes catch sight of your naked back. Soft groan leaving his lips at the glimpse. Jeans still incasing your thick thighs and an ass that he would give anything to grab and hold onto. The sight alone has his cock twitching in his own jeans his eyes travel up your back. Wishing he could step up behind you and place kisses along that line from your neck to shoulder. Wrapping your soft body in his arms and holding you against him. Wanting to make you moan and sigh his name. Where had these ideas come from? They make him shake his head but not before catching your eyes in the mirror, the depth of pain making his breath catch. Before he quickly turns away.

Disappointment flares in your veins having caught Dean staring, wondering what thoughts were running through his mind as he looks you over. Thinking you know when he turns away with a shake of his head. A pained sigh leaves your lips knowing there were few men who found you desirable, thick waist and hips. Biceps that kept waving long after your hand has stopped. Awkwardness consumes you upon remembering that you’ll have to walk into the main room to grab your bag of clothing.

You wrap the too small towel around your chest and step out, clearing your throat to announce your presence. “Just grabbing my bag,” nearing the bed right as Dean turns.

Breath knocked from his lungs, eyes taking in your form, longing for the towel to either drop or be nonexistent. “Sorry I didn’t…” Smooth Winchester like chunky peanut butter he thinks turning around quickly so not to embarrass you.

“It’s okay,” voice low, pain making the cadence tremble. You step in front of the bag, looking for something that would do to sleep in. Finding an old Captain America shirt, a gag gift from a good friend of yours. Thankfully you knew its one of those extra long shirts that falls just above your knees. Pulling it, and a pair of underwear out, you rush back towards the bathroom. This time making sure the door is closed behind you.

Breath rushing out, one that Dean didn’t know he’d been holding the whole time, he turns running a hand through his wet hair. Cursing his stupidity for not giving into what he truly wanted to do. Instead pushing that thought away and remembering that he too is soaked to the bone. Going about shrugging out of the red flannel to drop it by the door. T-shirt following, cursing under his breath as a need for a towel comes to mind.

Going to the door and knocking softly, “Y/N, I need a towel, mind handing…,” the door opens, a hand thrusts out a towel. That he takes brushing his fingers against yours eyes finding their way to peer in through the crack and catch sight of your nearly naked form.

Breath stilled noticing that you haven’t covered with the towel this time, dark blue bra only highlighting your skin and heavy breasts. Making his cock thicken in his wet jeans. He tries to tear his eyes away but finds it almost impossible. Till the door closes again and he leans against the old wood wanting to smack his head multiple times. Maybe then he’d get the ideas out or at least knock some sense into his brain.

A shiver of cold runs down his back reminding him that he still needed to finish undressing. Cursing himself for foolishly running out of the bunker without Baby only adds to his frustration. Making him wonder where his head had been. But he knew the answer to that as the Mark on his arm makes its self-known by the slight warming of his skin. Trying to push down the memories hating the fact that he’s let this brand drive him to do things he wouldn’t. Not to humans at any rate. Monsters, vamps, werewolves, anything that goes bump in the night to his way of life deserve to be put down.

With a heavy sigh Dean, turns away trying to clear his thoughts from the sight he just witnessed. From the memories that make him a dangerous man to be around.  Harshly wiping down his body, shucking out of his jeans, and almost falling over, while getting tangled in his boots. He sits heavily on the end of the bed pulling the offending items off to drop dulling beside him. Pulling the jeans off he brings his phone from its pocket, tossing the article of clothing on the pile Drying the rest of his skin while muttering about the lack of dry clothing. Staring for a moment at his phone before trying the home button, finding it dead either from all the rain or battery. Dean doesn’t care right then as it joins his clothing on the floor.

The opening door catches his attention as you step out, legs glorious bare to his eyes as they trail upward catching the edge of the grey blue shirt. He tries to look at you respectably given your wear another man’s shirt. Those thoughts fly out the window, mouth going dry when he notices you’re without a bra. Nipples tenting the soft looking material and making his cock damn near stand at attention. Quickly cover the evidence with the towel, lest you think him a pervert. But he can’t help the darkening of his whiskey green eyes, pupils expanding to crowd out the irises as he licks his lips.

A soft gasp leaves you at the sudden change in his demeanor. An almost predator look that comes over Dean’s features making you clinch your thighs together. Not like you weren’t already doing that from the moment you stepped from the bathroom to find him sitting on the bed in just his boxer briefs.  

So, we found this hotel, it was a place I knew well We made magic that night. Oh, he did everything right He brought the woman out of me, so many times, easily

Tanned skin naked to your eyes that can’t seem to find one place to land on much less stop staring. Making you ask yourself for the hundredth time why you decided on this shirt. Not like there’s much choice really since the rest of your clothing is back home. The driving rain that’s turned into a hell of a storm making venturing out impossible. Reminding you both of its presence a crack of thunder shakes the room. Startled gasp leaving your mouth as your arms wrap around your middle pushing your generous breasts upward. Eyes’ going towards the only window in the room as lighting colors the glass and sheer curtains a white blue.

Only to land back on Dean when a groan leaves his plush lips. Unsure of what the sound could mean, you try not to read too much into it as you drop your arms back at your side.

“Do… do you have anything to wear?” words stutter out, ones that make you want to smack yourself at how stupid they sound.

Standing, keeping the towel over his groin, “Sorry sweetheart but everything I have is soaked. Including these,” using his free hand to tug at the waistband of his boxer briefs letting it snap back against his skin.

Drawing your eyes to the very spot, whether it’s intentional or because you’ve found yourself very dry, you wet your lips. Tugging the bottom one between your teeth to nibble as you trace your eyes back up the expanse of his broad chest. Pausing to take in the various scars that you can’t help but want to kiss. Once again licking your lips when met with the strong cords of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. The urge to step forward and sink your teeth into his flesh shocks you to the point you gasp and turn away. Never having such a visceral reaction to anyone other than one certain man in your life.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” the words stuttered out of your mouth, arms wrapped around your waist to keep from doing something stupid. Like turn back around and surrender yourself to this stranger who stirs a passion in your body so hot your afraid the fire would consume you. While trying to figure out just how you’ve managed to get yourself in this mess. You weren’t the type of woman who draws the eye of someone like Dean.

Hell, you kept wondering how you managed to keep the man you had. The one waiting most likely back at your parent’s house of hell, having left him there after the fight. You wouldn’t blame him if he left figuring out that he’s be better off without you burdening him. Tears sting your eyes at those thoughts a soft sob leaving your lips.

Another gasp exits on a sob as a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist pulling you back into a warm chest. Your sobs broke Dean’s heart he couldn’t fathom how someone as beautiful and kind as you would be in so much pain. Though given the circumstances of his own life Dean knows all too well how things can get fucked up in a hurry. Though from your reactions to being under dressed, how you hold your stomach in, and try to shrink into yourself. He knows some of the reasons for your pain are related to the image of your body you hold in your mind.

Therefore, Dean carefully turns you, tipping your chin up to stare into your glossy eyes, cheeks puffy and wet. He uses the pad of his thumb to wipe the salty moisture off one cheek while cupping the other. “Whoever or whatever has done this to you don’t believe them. Those ideas you’ve got up here,” tracing his fingers over soft skin to tap your temple lightly. “Aren’t the truth, you’re beautiful Y/N and any man or woman who can’t see that is their loss not yours.”

Shaking your head, trying to keep from staring into the green eyes you could easily drown in. “It’s not that simple Dean,” trying to pull away from his arms. Heart pounding in your chest fearful that he’ll hear. His scent wrapping around your senses like a warm cloak, heady and strong being so close. Wanting to bury your nose in his neck and just stay there.

Strength keeps you against him, one arm clamping around your waist the other spreads over your back, rubbing up and down. As he feels a shiver rack your frame mistaking the movement for one of cold instead of arousal. He moves to grab the blanket at the end of the bed, wrapping it around the both of you.

In that moment your eyes lock, one hand moving up to brush over your cheek again, “Life is never simple Y/N it’s what we make of the time we have and with who that counts.”

“Dean,” the name comes out breathless with a need born of a deep desire to be shown just what he means.

Maybe it’s the warmth of his arms, or the storm raging outside. Hell, for all you know you could be dreaming right now back home in your own bed. But would a dream feel this real? Would your mind conjure up a man like Dean so perfectly that it surpassed all but one in your mind? Shaking your head resting it on his sternum tipping it to the side, exposing your neck as you unconsciously press your body against his.

Making a deep groan leave Dean’s mouth, unable to stop himself from pressing those firm lips into your skin. Flicking his hot tongue against your the column of your throat making another shiver run down your body. “Cold sweetheart?”

“No…” the one syllable stuck in your throat on a moan that shoots straight to his groin. Bringing forth a whimper from your lips as you feel the thickened shaft of his cock again your tummy.

All I wanna do is make love to you One night of love was all we knew All wanna do is make love to you I've got lovin' arms to hold on to

Oh, oooh, we made love Love like strangers All night long We made love

“Sweetheart you gotta stop making those noises or I can’t be held accountable for what I might do.” Pulling away from your neck, tipping your chin up to rest his forehead against yours, eyes meeting.

The snort dies a hard death in your throat at the heat and want in his eyes, making you swallow hard. Shaky hand comes up to brush over his cheek this time, single finger tracing his lips with a barely there caress. The dark almost feral look scorches your very soul, in heavy contrast to how gentle he’s holding you. You’re caught between pulling away and giving into the desire to taste him.

“One, what would that hurt?” words whispered so low Dean isn’t sure he heard them, nor does he understand.

Not till the soft press of your lush lips to his, eyes going wide does he understand. Your forwardness throws his reaction off. It’s not till your pulling away that he responds. Pulling you flush against his body, arm around your waist holds you closer. If that could be possible as there isn’t even an inch of space between your bodies. The other cupping the back of your neck callused fingers spread over your skin to hold you in place. His mouth masterfully takes possession of yours, first with soft presses. Nipping on your bottom lip to garner a gasp of pleasure from you.  

Using that as a way to enter the warm sweet cavern of your mouth, tangling his tongue with your shy one. Tasting the fruity wine, you had at dinner while you sample the whiskey he had. His fingers massage the base of your skull, pulling another muted moan from your willing mouth. He slows, wanting to draw out this kiss. Giving you time to push him away if that’s what you wanted. Though he prays to whoever is listening that you won’t.  

Dizzy from the indulgence of the kiss, one you initiated, breath coming out in short pants against his mouth. You open your eyes, when had they closed you think, while staring into his. He still presses little nibbling kisses to your lips trying to coerce a response from you. Not wanting this to end before it even fully began.

But he has to ask. Has to affirm that you want this just as much as he does. “Tell me to stop Y/N and I will,” pausing in his mapping of your jaw with his lips. Brushing them over the shell of your ear, “Tell me to let you go and I’ll wrap this blanket around me and go sit in the chair away from you.” Moving them to just below your ear to place a kiss that makes you shutter against him and another whimper leaves your panting mouth. “Tell me Y/N or I’m going to take you to that bed and make love to you all night long.”  

Part Two

#SPN Mixed Bingo #Dean Winchester x Plus Size F!Reader #Dean Winchester x F!Reader #Only one bed square #Supernatural

[katelyn--renee]

Supernatural Mixed Bingo

Kate’s Bingo Masterlist 2021 - @spnmixedbingo​

Love Potion

Summer

Political AU

Chuck

Apocalypse AU

One night stand : Unexpected Pleasantries (Dean x Reader) *smut*

Going to the beach

Fix it fic

Picnic

Going to the movie theatre : Out of the Fire (Part Six) (Firefighter!Dean x Reader)

Woman of letters

Winter

Song based fic : Dress (Cop!Dean x Reader) *smut*

Photographer AU

Music Producer AU

Listening to music

#spn mixed bingo #spnmixedbingo #spnmixedbingo2021 #2021 #supernatural #spn #mixed bingo #bingo card #dean winchester #dean x reader #katelynw93

[spnrareships]

SPN Rare Ships Bingo

Welcome to the SPN Rare Ships Bingo!

What is it?

The Supernatural fandom loves its bingos, y'all. We’ve got @spnkinkevents, @spnabobingo… I mean, actually it would take us years to list all the bingos in the Supernatural fandom so we’re not going to waste your time. (There’s a fairly decent list of them all here, if you want to look. This blog was even born as a merging of two bingos: @spnrareshipbingo and @spnpolybingo.)

In a nutshell, though, a bingo is a prompt event set out with bingo cards, where each square includes a prompt. Once you “fill” the prompt, you can cross it off of your card. Get a bingo by filling prompts horizontally, vertically, diagonally, or blacking out your whole card!

This bingo will be a whole two months to celebrate all of the rare ships in Supernatural. Whether it is platonic, romantic, familial, or any other kind of relationship is up to you!

When is it?

August 1-September 30, 2023

What are the prompts?

Everyone’s Bingo Card will be different! We aren’t assigning you cards, however - you get to randomize your own. Click the links below to randomize yourself a card, based on the prompts available for that color card. You may keep randomizing cards until you get one you’re happy with.

RED All-In Card (all below prompts possible)

ORANGE Shipping Card (all Ships + all Characters)

YELLOW Mixed Card (all Het Ships + all Characters)

GREEN Fellas Card (all Slash Ships + Male Characters)

BLUE Ladies Card (all Femslash Ships + Female Characters)

PURPLE Non-Ship Card (Prompts + All Characters, no pairings)

How do I participate?

No sign ups are required! Choose a card above (we ask that you stick with one card, please - if you black it out you can choose a second card, etc.) and post any and all Rare Ship fills during March and April. Be sure to include #spnrareshipsbingo4 and tag us @spnrareships in your post. We will reblog everything we see, but if we haven’t reblogged your work within 24 hours please send us an ask.

We also suggest that you screenshot/save your card and make a masterpost on your tumblr to keep track of your fills - we’ll ask for links to your masterposts at the end of the bingo so we can promote them!

What extra bingo rules do I need to follow?

One fill = one square. Do not use one fic or chapter to fill two squares. (To black out your card, you will create 9 fills. If you have a multi-chapter fic, each chapter can count as a different square.)

Reminder: Please review our General Rules, which apply to all events we host. If you have any questions, feel free to send in an Ask!

#spnrareshipsbingo4 #spnrareshipevents

[avanatural]

The Hookup Henley

Summary: Dean is struggling with the Mark of Cain. Y/N, his best friend, wants to make him feel better. Will she succeed? What happens when the mark takes over?

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Angst, smut, fluff, 18+

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, explicit sexual content, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, both protected and unprotected sex (Wrap it up!), MoC!Dean

Prompts: 

“I’m too old for this shit.”

Night club

Dean’s green Henley

Square filled: Friends with benefits @spnmixedbingo 

A/N: This story contains smut! Do not read if you are under the age of 18! I wrote this fic for @libre1rose8 300 Follower Celebration! Congratulations again, my friend! 💕 You deserve every single follower and so many more! 😘 I hope you enjoy my contribution to your challenge (that totally took on a life of its own) 💗 Dividers by the talented @talesmaniac89 😊

Dean Winchester Masterlist

SPN Mixed Bingo 2021 Masterlist 

Main Masterlist

“Come on, Dean, just try it! For me. Please?”

Dean tossed his head back, sighing in exasperation. “I’m too old for this shit.”

Y/N walked into his bedroom, coming to a halt in front of him. The older Winchester brother was sitting on the floor, leaning back against his bed, a stack of books and papers settled in his lap. Y/N placed her hands on her hips, gazing down at him with her tongue stuck between her teeth.

Dean was constantly doing research these days. Holing up in his room. Trying to find a way to get rid of the mark on his arm, or at least to relieve the terrible side effects that it came with. His mossy green eyes had lost their light. The fun-loving, Impala-driving, pie-eating, lady-charming Dean was gone. It pained Y/N to see him like that.

“You’re never too old to have a good time,” she argued, finally getting him to look up, to look her in the eye. And boy, did he look tired. “I miss my best friend,” she added.

Dean’s jaw clenched, a tiny spark of guilt flashing through his eyes. He was neglecting his relationships with the people closest to him, he knew that. But the mark was driving him insane. Slowly pushing him over the edge he’d been dancing on for ages. “Y/N, just let it go, okay? I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, holding his gaze with determination. “Because I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you smile in weeks.” She missed his smile so bad. The way his pearly white teeth would show. The way his plump lips would curl upward. The faint dimples that would appear on his cheeks.

Dean’s jaw clenched yet again. His mesmerizing, angry eyes glared up at her. “What, and dragging me to the club, of all places, is gonna change that?”, he snapped.

Y/N wasn’t fazed by his attitude. She knew that beneath all the rage and hostility, he was suffering. And no matter how angry he was, she was never going to be afraid of him. “There’s nothing that music, booze, and attractive people can’t let you forget about. At least for a little while.” She bent down and grabbed his hand, pulling on it in an attempt to make him get up.

With a small grunt, Dean complied. Carelessly, he brushed the papers off of his lap and pushed himself up on his feet. Y/N took his other hand as well and started pulling him toward his dresser. With an exaggerated eye roll, Dean trudged along.

“Are you really gonna make me go?”, he sulked, his forehead puckering with annoyance.

“It’ll be fun,” she insisted, wriggling her eyebrows at him, “We’ll find that Hookup Henley of yours, go to the club, get wasted, and look for a beautiful woman for you to go home with.”

Dean scoffed. The Hookup Henley – the green Henley that he tended to wear whenever him and Y/N went looking for hookups. Honestly, he didn’t even believe that this particular shirt was the main ingredient for his success with women.

No. It was Y/N. The huntress was the key to his conquests. She was the perfect wingman. Well, wingwoman. With her smile, she could draw in any woman that Dean fancied. And when Y/N used her sweet voice to introduce him to his chosen ones, the deal was sealed within a matter of seconds.

“I hate you,” he mumbled under his breath as he pulled the green Henley from his drawer.

“You love me,” she corrected, grinning at him, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

A nostalgic smile spread across Y/N’s mouth. It had been way too long since she’d felt the beat of vibrating music in her chest. The night club was packed with people who were dancing, drinking, laughing, chatting. She’d only just entered, but she was already having a good time.

Dean, on the other hand, didn’t like it nearly half as much. The lights were flashing too bright. The music was too upbeat. The people were too happy. He scowled bitterly as he followed his friend through the crowd.

“Come on! This is gonna be great!”, she yelled over the music, taking a hold of his hand. With a bounce in her step, she yanked Dean to the bar.

He rolled his eyes, but to his own dismay, he was unable to stop the teeny-tiny smile that suddenly laced his lips. Who was he kidding? Y/N’s enthusiasm never failed to tug on his heart strings. He watched her closely as she ordered their first drinks for the night, talking animatedly to the bartender.

Dean had no clue why Y/N hadn’t left him behind already. Why she hadn’t cut ties with him, especially now that he had the Mark of Cain. But then again, she’d never left him behind before. And deep down, he hoped she never would.

“Alright, big boy, drink up!”, she yelled over the music and handed him a shot, her black nail polish sparkling in the strobe lights.

Dean scowled, trying to hide the fact that he was actually grateful for the alcohol that was going to enter his system. Alcohol meant ease. Ease was good. Now that he had the mark, he was incapable of relaxing. He was constantly on guard, constantly trying to control his temper, constantly thinking about violence.

They both knocked back their drink, wincing as the alcohol streamed down their throats with a comforting burn.

“And now…” Y/N smacked her lips together, tasting the remaining sheen of booze. “Step two.”

Dean lifted his eyebrows and looked down at her with fearful anticipation. “Step two?”

“Let’s go dance!”, she exclaimed, just loud enough to be heard despite the booming music.

“No, no, no,” Dean blurted, shaking his head. He could feel the walls around him come up even higher. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for that.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “Alright, then… Another round of shots, it is. I will make you feel better tonight, Dean. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

"Come on! Give me at least one dance, Winchester,” Y/N mumbled, holding up one finger with a tipsy chuckle. She couldn’t tell anymore how many drinks they’d had. Not that it mattered.

"Alright, alright. One dance. Come 'ere." With two clumsy hands, he took her by the waist and pulled her close to his body. The ease had slowly but surely started to kick in after their last round of shots. "Damn, you're annoying today," he continued with a little amused smile on his face. He hadn’t smiled in so long that it made his cheeks feel strange.

Y/N laughed freely and snaked her arms around his neck, crossing them around the back. She leaned up to speak right into his ear. Between her and Dean, physical boundaries had never mattered much. "I'm just what you need."

Something about the tone in her voice sent a shiver down Dean's spine. He couldn't identify that shiver, and it bothered the hell out of him. People didn't always associate that quality with him, but Dean was very self-aware. Even drunk, he was aware of his thought patterns and physical reactions. But the shiver that Y/N made him feel… It was foreign to him. He hated foreign feelings, foreign sensations. He hated that the sensation felt so good. She was his friend, for God’s sake.

Y/N started to sway from side to side, using her arms to softly ease Dean into her rhythm.

He obliged and circled his arms around her middle, his hands landing on her lower back. Part of him felt stupid, swaying left and right in the middle of a crowd. He felt like a drunken fool. But he also felt good. For the first time in a long time. Which only made him more frustrated. He shouldn't get to feel good. Not now, not with the mark on his arm. Not after the things he'd done.

"You're overthinking," Y/N stated, looking Dean straight in the eye. Looking right through him, as usual.

And suddenly, it dawned on him. Why he'd been holing up in his room. Why he’d been hiding from his friend. He’d known that she was going to make him feel better. Make him feel hopeful. He didn’t deserve hope. He didn’t deserve her.

"It's kinda hard not to nowadays,” he blurted. He averted his eyes and focused on the rhythm of the music. Maybe going to the club hadn’t been such a terrible idea after all. There were lots of stimuli to focus on. To distract him. To get lost in.

“I know. But guess what?” Y/N lowered her head to catch Dean’s eye again. “You got this,” she reassured him with a nod of her head, “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Dean felt her fingers on the back of his neck, her fingertips gently grazing the exposed skin. On instinct, his hands went to her hips. He could feel their shape, feel Y/N’s fluid movements against his palms. She’d forced him to dance with her before, but it was different this time. Back then, their dances had been silly and dumb. This dance felt strangely… close. Sensual.

Just as Dean was about to reply, she added, “And one of the worst dancers.”

His eyes widened, an expression of feigned hurt popping up on his face. “Oh, shut up. You better get us another round of shots before I blow this joint.”

Y/N chuckled, the skin around her Y/E/C eyes wrinkling. She knew him well enough to know that the night club had awoken his interest by now. “Alright, one final round of shots before we find our hookups for the night?”

Dean nodded his head more eagerly than he intended.

The smile that Y/N responded with shone brighter than all the strobe lights combined.

“What about that one?”, she inquired, lazily nodding at a pretty brunette who was waiting to receive her drink at the bar. Y/N’s hips were moving from side to side, her back pressed against Dean’s solid chest. She ground herself against him, feeling his strong hands tighten around her hips. Yes, physical boundaries were nonexistent at this point.

“Nah.” Dean bent down over her shoulder, inching a little too close, to speak into her ear. “She’s here with a guy. I want it quick and easy tonight,” he mumbled as his scruffy cheek pressed against her smooth one. If anyone had told him that he was going to dance with Y/N in the middle of the dance floor of a night club, grinding against her body, he would never have believed it.

Y/N couldn’t deny the hot tingling sensation that rolled up and down her spine at Dean’s closeness, at the sound of his deep voice in her ear, at the smell of his cologne. “Who’s she with?”, she asked casually, feeling the hair at the back of her neck stand up.

Dean tightened his arms around her waist from behind and shifted on his feet, turning Y/N into the direction of a tall, dark-haired man. He held her closer than he needed to, but her body just felt like it was made for his greedy embrace. “With Pretty Boy over there.”

“Too bad,” Y/N sighed, laying her head back against Dean’s shoulder with a small pout. “He’s cute.”

“Please,” Dean scoffed. His hips automatically pushed forward as he felt Y/N’s ass move against his front. He could feel his pants get tight and suppressed the moan that threatened to leave his lips. “You can do better.”  

She smiled to herself and twirled around in Dean’s embrace, feeling woozy as she did so. As she came face to face with him, she wrapped her arms around his neck again. Pulling him down, she erased what little distance remained between them. “Nice moves, Winchester. I guess you’re a dancer after all,” she teased.

His hands reclaimed their place on her hips, his fingers dancing on the threshold to her ass. What wouldn’t he give to test the waters and let them slide down further? The dip of her lower back was tempting him to try it out. To touch her curves. They were playing a game of cat and mouse, and it excited him. Only, he wasn’t sure who was the cat and who was the mouse in this scenario.

“Those aren’t my only moves, Sweetheart.” He could feel the alcohol pulsating through his veins, clouding his mind. Y/N was gorgeous. How had he never noticed that? His eyes lingered on her face, mesmerized by the sheer beauty he found there. Her eyes were shining blue, green, yellow, red, perfectly reflecting each of the club’s flashing lights.

She arched an eyebrow, her lips morphing into a sultry smile. “Oh, yeah? Sounds like one of the ladies here is gonna get very lucky tonight.”

Alright, Y/N was definitely the cat. Every bone in Dean’s body screamed at him not to be the mouse, but the way she looked at him – like she was going to jump him any second – it made his knees weak. Before he could so much as think of a flirty remark, Y/N caught sight of a handsome man on the dance floor.

“Hey, look at that guy.” Chewing on her lower lip, she didn’t realize how enchanted Dean was by her beauty, how his eyes didn’t leave her face. “I think he might be tonight’s choice,” she added.

With hooded eyes, Dean tore his gaze away from Y/N and looked to the side. He had to admit the other guy was her type. Damn it, had he read her signs wrong? “Yeah… Why not?”, he replied, his voice sounding even and calm. But on the inside, he wasn’t feeling calm at all. He certainly didn’t want to feel that way, but there was a heavy stone sinking from his chest down to his stomach. In some strange way, despite his hate for clubs and dancing, he wanted to stay with Y/N. He wanted for Y/N to stay with him.

She dragged her bottom lip out between her teeth, missing the way Dean’s eyes lingered on her mouth. “I’m gonna go over there,” she declared and let go of his neck. She ruffled her Y/H/C hair, pushing it up with her hands. “How do I look?”

Begrudgingly, Dean let go of her, leaving his hands to hang awkwardly by his sides as Y/N cut the invisible tie between them. He cleared his throat and touched his Adam’s apple with his fingers. “You look good.”

“What about you?” Y/N smiled up at him, almost taking his breath away. “Who’re you gonna chat up?”

“Oh, I, uh…” He scratched the back of his head with his blunt fingernails. The mark on his arm started to pulsate, which he ignored to the best of his ability. Not now, he mentally scolded the mark. “I’ve had my eye on that blonde over there.” Weakly, he pointed at a beautiful blonde woman who was dancing with a friend.

“Good choice.” Y/N tilted her head and pursed her lips in approval. “You need any help?”

“Nah. Not tonight. I’m good.”

“Alright. Good luck.” Y/N found his hand and squeezed it, just as she always did before they parted ways. It was her own special way of saying ‘See you later.’

Slowly, her fingers slipped through his, their touch getting lost in their intentions to find someone else.

A million thoughts shot through Dean’s head as he watched her push through the crowd. On her way to another guy. When Y/N suddenly looked over her shoulder, meeting Dean’s eyes once more, he knew. He could tell by the way the Mark of Cain was itching and burning at the same time. It was yearning for her.

Dean wanted her.

Y/N’s back slid up and down the wall of the bathroom, over and over again. The man’s hands harshly gripped the flesh of her thighs, keeping them wrapped around his waist. Her dress was bunched up around her hips. His jeans were pushed down his legs as his length pounded into her.

She moved her hips to meet his thrusts and threw her head back. His lips instantly attached themselves to her neck, placing open-mouthed kisses to her skin. When he sucked on her favorite spot, she felt herself fall apart around him. Her body quivered nonstop while she came.

As she panted with pleasure, her hands curled around his shirt – the very same shirt that was supposed to help him sleep with someone else. But here she was, having sex with her best friend in a dirty public bathroom.

In his drunken state, Dean had gone after Y/N. He’d pushed through the crowd, crossing the dance floor until he’d caught up with her. His fingers had curled around her wrist. His hand had turned her around. His lips had landed on hers, effectively keeping her from hooking up with that other guy. Everything had happened so fast. And now, here they were, screwing each other’s brains out.

Y/N moaned, Dean’s name sitting on the tip of her tongue, ready to slip out. But she bit her lip, willing her mouth not to say his name. There was something so wrong, so naughty, about this. The forbidden fruit. The line that should never be crossed between friends. It was glorious.

Meanwhile, Dean grunted into Y/N’s ear, forcing himself not to groan her name. The way her pussy clenched around him felt incredible. Too good to be true. It was so wrong to have sex with his best friend, his wingwoman, in the club’s bathroom. And still, he never wanted it to end. He wanted to remain buried inside of her until the end of time. His mark vibrated in perfect sync with his thrusts, the pain mingling with the pleasure. Something primitive and carnal took over his soul, making him push into Y/N even harder.

She gripped his shoulders tightly, her tipsy mind admiring his strength, his power. His lips and tongue felt so good against her neck. The swollen tip of his dick was buried so deep inside of her that she knew he was going to ruin her for any other man.

Dean was sweating, grunting, grinding. He poured everything he had into his thrusts, hoping for the ache in his forearm to be replaced by the soreness in his muscles. He gave Y/N all he had. If he did something so wrong, he might as well do it right.

As he felt his orgasm approaching, his head started to spin. The pain intensified across his forearm – and turned into the same pain that he felt whenever he killed something. Or someone.

It was a satisfying ache. Until it wasn’t.

As he emptied himself into the condom, Dean felt like the skin was being carved from his forearm. The mark was burning so bad that he squeezed his eyes shut and released a pained, dragged-out groan. He sounded like an animal, a monster, like a demon that was being exorcised.

Dean could hear a faint, sweet sound passing his eardrums. It took him a second to realize that the sound was Y/N’s concerned voice. When he lifted his head to meet her gaze, he was met with wide, Y/E/C orbs. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in their beautiful color, to feel like everything was going to be alright.

“Dean… Dean, what’s wrong?”, she repeated in between harsh breaths, her legs still locked around his waist. Her hands cupped his stubbled jaw as she tried to get a good look at his face.

He suddenly realized he was still pinning her to the wall, still sheathed inside her. He pushed air from his lungs, clearing his throat with a small noise. He pulled out of her and slowly let her down. As soon as Y/N’s feet hit the ground, he turned away from her, wiping his hands down his face. He leaned against the bathroom sink and pulled off the condom, his back facing her.

Y/N could see that he was struggling and felt herself sober up a little. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a hug, to take away his suffering. But she had no idea whether he wanted her near him. He was like a wounded animal sometimes. He tended to lash out when he was in pain.

Dean gasped as he tossed the used condom into the trashcan next to the sink. His arm hurt like hell. He was feeling dizzy. With pain and shame thrumming through his bones, he pulled up his boxers and pants.

Y/N couldn’t rip her worried gaze away from him. She pushed her dress down to cover her legs and slowly approached Dean, her steps timid. He tensed visibly when her hand finally came into contact with his upper arm. “Dean, hey… What is it?”, she inquired quietly, fully prepared to be pushed away.

“The mark…,” he grunted, feeling the engorged skin pulsate violently as he stared down at it. He didn’t dare to look up. He couldn’t face Y/N.

“Let me see.” Her voice was soft and gentle as she reached out to touch the angry red mark. “Please.”

Dean bared his teeth, wincing when her fingertips brushed against the mark. But, against his expectations, the pain didn’t intensify.

Y/N’s fingers were cold. Her tender touch cooled down the burn. Dean’s eyelids became heavy with relief, prompting him to briefly shut his eyes. Within a matter of seconds, he went from a state of pure distress to a state of comfort.

“It’s okay,” Y/N whispered and started to run her thumb along the Mark of Cain, caressing it like it was something to be cherished. Something that wasn’t evil.

“Is it?” Dean opened his emerald eyes, a pained expression masking his face. He wasn’t looking for an honest answer. He wasn’t looking for a straight response. No, he was looking for reassurance. He knew Y/N would get that. She always knew what he needed.

“Yes. It is.” Honestly, she didn’t know what either of them were referring to. Was having the Mark of Cain okay? Were the two of them okay? She had no clue what they were talking about. All she knew was that, no matter what, she was going to remain by Dean’s side. “Now breathe with me.” Y/N inhaled deeply, raising her eyebrows in a silent demand for him to follow her lead.

He rolled his eyes, but held back his comment about shoving her self-help yoga crap, and complied. He breathed in deeply and slowly, just like her. And when Y/N released her breath, so did he. The pain in his arm was turning from sharp to dull, from threatening to bearable.

“Better?” Reluctantly, Y/N let go of his arm, letting her touch fade from his mark.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, mentally cursing himself for how fragile he sounded. He coughed in an awkward attempt to save face.

Y/N quickly realized that his moment of open vulnerability was over. She knew Dean well enough not to push it. She knew it was time to change the topic. With her cheeks still flushed from the sex they’d just had, she brushed some disheveled hair behind her ear. “We should do that again sometime,” she said in a lighthearted manner, thankful that she was still intoxicated enough to be bold. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled as she waited for his response.

Dean eyed her with curiosity, even a little bit of awe. She was incredible. And hot, goddamn. When their eyes met, Y/N smiled the most stunning smile he’d ever seen. All of a sudden, their little incident didn’t seem so wrong anymore. The mark was quiet now.

Dean, too, bit his lower lip, contemplating his reply. Sleeping with his best friend was a risky game. A stupid idea. Destined to fail. Finally, he settled on a gruff, “You sure?”

She nodded her head. “Yeah, I mean… That was good, right?” As casually as she could, Y/N shrugged her shoulders, trying not to show the anxiety that was starting to overthrow her boldness. “Next time we need a relief, why not help each other?”

Once again, Dean felt a shiver run down his spine. His mind was yelling at him not to agree. But his emotions urged him to take his chance. “Yeah, why not?”

“Great.” Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest. “It’s a deal.”

“It’s a deal,” he echoed, tilting his mouth up in a half-smile.

With a wink in Dean’s direction, Y/N exited the public bathroom first. Leaving him to stare after her with wonder.

Despite that night, nothing more happened between the two of them in the following weeks. Neither of them brought up the sex, the Mark of Cain, or their agreement.

Dean wanted to bring it up so bad, though. Well, actually, he wanted to go to Y/N’s room down the hall and do all kinds of naughty things to her. As he sat on his bed, he thought about how much he wanted to explore every inch of her body. His mark needed to be fed. And he had a feeling that wrecking Y/N was going to feed it just as well as killing something.

With a sigh, he tossed his closed laptop to the side, watching it bounce across the memory foam. He frowned and looked down at the shirt he was wearing – the Hookup Henley.

Thanks to their night out together, Y/N was all Dean could think about whenever he was wearing it. Her scent had long since faded from his Henley, but he could still feel her fingers tug on the fabric if he imagined it hard enough. He could still hear her moan for him. He still recalled how loved she’d made him feel.

Dean looked up from his shirt when there was a knock on his door. Wearing a frown on his face, he got up from his bed and walked across his room on sock-clad feet.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to find Y/N standing on the other side, all dressed up. Her hair was done in loose curls. Her little black dress fit her body like a glove. Her eyes beamed up at him through long lashes. She was stunning. Dean raised his eyebrows at her. “You goin’ out?”

Y/N observed his face, almost getting lost in his large, beautiful eyes. “I was going to, but…,” she trailed off as she spotted the green Henley that clung tightly to his chest. Damn, she wanted to curl her fingers around the fabric all over again. She could even see his defined pecs through the shirt.

“You want me to go with you?”, Dean asked, pointing his finger down the hall. Sometimes, Y/N asked him to accompany her because she felt safer that way. This time, she wasn’t gonna have to beg him to go out. He would do anything to be close to her again. Even if that meant dancing among a crowd of strangers.

Y/N was sick and tired of not bringing up the fact that they’d had sex a few weeks ago. She craved Dean. She felt like she was going to explode if she stayed away from him. Even though they’d hooked up in a disgusting public bathroom, it was the most intense, intimate experience she’d ever had. “No… Actually… I don’t think I wanna go out anymore.”

“You wanna stay here? We could go downstairs and do some target practice...” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling like a teenager who was asking for his very first date.

“No. No target practice.” Y/N took a step closer to him. Her hands came up to grab the collar of his Henley. It was now or never. She felt anxious, giddy. The way Dean eyed her – with curiosity, and wonder – made her feel alive.

“What do you want?”, Dean muttered lowly, his hot beath fanning across Y/N’s face. His heart was about ready to jump out of his chest. She was so close to him. His for the taking.

Y/N briefly looked away and kicked the door shut behind her. When she faced him again, there was a primal glimmer in her eyes.

The next few seconds felt like a lifetime to Dean. He knew she deserved better than him. He still had the Mark of Cain. He was dangerous. But if Y/N actually wanted him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. He was going to give her everything he had.

“You.”

One single word and Dean was a goner. One single word made his whole miserable world come crashing down around him. Just a second later, his lips collided with hers in a fit of desperate desire. His self-control didn’t stand much of a chance.

Y/N’s hands went to his jaw, compelling Dean to kiss her even harder. His hands went to her ass and squeezed tightly, making her hum against his lips. Their tongues showed no mercy for each other. Dean wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and fisted part of her hair, pushing her as close to him as humanly possible.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Dean’s conscience mumbled in between heated kisses. His own voice sounded so far away, almost as if he wasn’t present in his own clouded mind.

“Shhh.” Y/N placed her finger against his kiss-swollen lips and gave Dean a smile. “Just shut up and take me to bed.” Then she pressed her mouth back to his for emphasis.

Dean’s heart took a leap. Grabbing the backs of her thighs, he lifted her up into his arms, swallowing her excited squeal with his mouth. He was overwhelmed by the sensations that flooded his whole body.

Still, the most prominent feeling was the ache in his forearm. The ache that haunted him whenever he did something wrong. But he couldn’t contain himself. He needed Y/N. God, he needed her so bad that he was willing to jeopardize their friendship – one of the best things he’d ever had.

As he pushed her down on his mattress, the urge to make her scream for him became almost unbearable. He felt like he was going to corrupt her. But as he thrust into her, he felt whole, sated. The mark thanked him for giving in.

Y/N was either going to be his savior or his downfall. And either way, he was going to take his chance.

Tag list: @eevvvaa @waynes-multiverse @myloversgone @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @alagalaska @katbratsupernaturalwhore @woodworthti666 @deanwanddamons @awkward-and-indecisive @snowlovespie @desimarie12​ @golden-hoax​ 

#libre1rose8goes300 #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester smut #dean x you #dean x y/n #reader insert #spn imagine #dean winchester angst #supernatural imagine #dean smut #dean angst #moc!dean #spnmixedbingo

[deanwanddamons]

3K Follower Challenge

Thank you to everyone who has got me to 3K followers. I am so overwhelmed by this! I have had so much love and support since I started; it’s unreal, and I have made some amazing friends along the way ❤️

So to celebrate this milestone, I have created the ‘Three’s a crowd’ challenge!

The idea behind it being that whatever story you create, there has to be an obstacle or ‘third wheel’ that upsets the natural course of things. Whether that be an angsty shooting, a fluffy adorable dog that could choose the worst time to let their owner know they want something, or a ghost that’s determined to keep your pairing apart. Are you ready to get creative?

All you need to do to enter is:

Choose one quote from the list below

&

Choose one troupe from the list below

Send the numbers of your choice to me in an ask, alongside whether you want to write canon or AU, and then I will give you the THIRD part of the challenge.

Yep, to make things more interesting, I’ll be giving you the third wheel! REMEMBER these have to act as a hindrance or a challenge your pairing have to get over within your story.

OR ALTERNATIVELY

If you can’t decide, and/or if you’re feeling daring, send me an ask with the words ‘Sian Special’ and I will provide you with all three; the troupe, the quote and the third wheel.

Sound fun?! I hope so!

All the rules are below the cut:

1. You must be following me to enter.

2. A signal boost would be marvellous.

3. Please send me an ask to let me know your choices and I will respond with the third part of the challenge. I’d rather an ask than a DM as it will be easier to keep track.

4. Your fic can be angsty, smutty, fluffy or all three it’s up to you

5. I would prefer all fics to be reader insert, but OC’s are also welcome.

6. There’s no minimum word count, but there’s a max of 5K.

7. If your fic is more than 500 words please use the keep reading tab.

8. I will accept any and all smut except age play, non con and toilet stuff, so PLEASE tag accordingly.

9. You can write for any SPN character(s) (or actors/actresses) but I would prefer Dean or Sam/Jensen or Jared as the main protagonist. You can, of course, include any of the other characters in the story.

10. Any pairings are welcome.

11. You can include any bingos or other challenges.

Just a few final bits and bobs:

Please tag your work with the hashtag #deanwanddamons3Kfollowerschallenge and tag me in the author’s notes.

There’s no real deadline, but if you want to be included in the masterlist then I’ll be creating this on 1st September 2022, so please post before then.

If I haven’t reblogged your fic within 48 hours please message me. I am very chatty, so if you want to message me at anytime please do 😀

I reserve the right to not reblog any fic I read that I find offensive, does not abide by the rules I have set out here, or does not have adequate warnings.

My ask box and DM’s are always open so if you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.

LETS GET ON WITH THE QUOTES & TROUPES!

Quotes:

1. You mind doing a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean? - @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​, @downanddirtydean​, @jawritter​

2. You’re changing the world, and I want to be a part of it. - @waywardnerd67

3. Rebel a little bit… in a healthy, non-satanic way.

4. Maybe we should know what we’re walking into before we actually walk into it. - @kickingitwithkirk​, @t-k-win​

5. We going to fight or make out, ’cause I’m getting some real mixed signals here. - @princessmisery666​

6. I’m not looking at you like anything. Though I gotta say, you do look like crap. - @smellingofpoetry

7. The universe is trying to tell us something we both should already know. We're stronger together than apart. - @deangirl93​, @blue-lion1​

8. I mean, accidents just don’t happen accidentally - @rizlowwritessortof​, @fightthefairies-1221​

9. We're far from perfect, but we are good - @myloversgone​

10. You're joking, right?! - @chocolateheart​

11. You don't remember me? - @winchest09​

12. All right, look, I know how you feel. - @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

13. You don’t have to be ruled by fate. You can choose freedom.

14. If we make it out of here alive, we are so breaking up. - @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone​, @sakuwriteshere​

15. This is never the life I wanted for you - @little-diable

16. What’s done is done. All that matters now, all that’s ever mattered, is that we’re together. So shut up, and drink your beer. - @girl-next-door-writes​, @westerneyedwinchester​

17. If you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there too? - @myinconnelly1​

18. You know who starts a sentence with ‘truth is’? Liars. - @440mxs-wife​

19. Are you sure you’re ready for this? - @waynes-multiverse​

20. Wait. There’s no such thing as unicorns??

Troupes:

1. Friends to Lovers - @downanddirtydean​, @myloversgone​

2. Secret Dating - @kickingitwithkirk​, @deangirl93​

3. Woke Up Married - @fightthefairies-1221​

4. Fake Dating - @chocolateheart​, @sakuwriteshere​

5. Opposites Attract - @rizlowwritessortof​, @blue-lion1​

6. Friends with benefits - @princessmisery666​

7. Mutual Pining - @girl-next-door-writes​

8. Sharing a secret - @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone​

9. Enemies to Lovers - @little-diable

10. One night stand

11. Working a case - @waynes-multiverse​

12. Only one bed - @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​

13. Embarrassing first meet - @smellingofpoetry

14. Meet Cute

15. Childhood Friend - @waywardnerd67, @winchest09​, @westerneyedwinchester​

16. Soulmates

17. Coffee Shop - @440mxs-wife​

18. Love at first sight - @myinconnelly1​

19. Unrequited Love - @jawritter​

20. First Kiss - @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior, @t-k-win​

Tagging some mutuals and those that may be interested  - @stusbunker / @justagirlinafandomworld / @440mxs-wife / @deanwinchesterswitch / @waywardbaby / @winchest09 / @little-diable / @snowlovespie / @chocolateheart / @jawritter / @downanddirtydean / @charred-angelwings / @xlynnbbyx / @treat-winchesterswith-kindness / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @waynes-multiverse / @msmarvelouswinchester / @katelyn-renee / @janicho88 / @thinkinghardhardlythinkingogblog / @deangirl93 / @akshi8278 / @cockslut-padalecki / @soaringeag1e / @watermelonlipstick / @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @ejlovespie / @avanatural / @libre1rose8 / @smol-and-grumpy / @smellingofpoetry / @waywardnerd67 / @avanatural / @princessmisery666 / @talesmaniac89 / @pink-sparkly-witch / @awkward-and-indecisive / @trektraveler / @wickedinspirations / @myloversgone

#deanwanddamons3kchallenge #3k challenge #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #Jensen Ackles #Jared Padalecki

[wayward-dreamer]

SPN Mixed Bingo 2021

Love On The 26th Floor - Prologue (CEO AU) - CEO!Dean Smith x Female!Personal Assistant!Reader

The Cost Of Friendship:

Chapter 1 (Friends with Benefits)

Chapter 4 (Unrequited Love)

#spn mixed bingo #dean x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #sam x female!reader #sam winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction