spikycritter

[spikycritter]

Never more in love than when I’m leaving (never want you more than when you’re gone)

(Dean Winchester x female reader)

Summary You come home from a crappy date. Dean's there, watching the kids, and the two of you start reminiscing about - and reliving - the past. CWs Divorced!Dad!Dean and ex-wife!reader (although they're technically not divorced yet), explicit sexy times on the couch, needing to be quiet, some jealousy, some mental health discussions, exes to lovers, starts out as a night of mistakes but turns into more? Hopeful ending! 18+. 8.6k words AN You gorgeous sweethearts voted here for me to finish this fic out of my WIPs, so here you go! ❤️ Thank you for voting, and thank you for being here. I appreciate you all so, so much! (I'm having an emotional moment, don't look at me) Oh, and title is from Adrianne Lenker's "A better time to meet".

Dean Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

You walk into the kitchen to see Dean leaned over the aisle, looking at his phone. The very kitchen aisle he once built himself, while you were big and round with Emma. It’s a strange picture. It’s been ten years, his hair is longer and neither of you wear your wedding rings anymore, but it gives you a strange moment of whiplash.

You get a second to look at him before he notices you. A second to look at the man you once thought you’d be spending the rest of your life with. The one who moved out a year ago, because you both agreed it’s what would be best. He’s still the most handsome one you’ve ever seen. 

It makes you feel more than one strong emotion.

“Hey,” you say, and it comes out a little breathless. He looks up, raises his eyebrows in that non-committal way he does.

“Hey,” he says, locking his phone and pushing it into the back pocket of his jeans, straightening. 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a quick look at the clock over the fridge. “Couldn’t get a cab to save my life. Kids go down okay?” Dean raises his hands, drops them on the counter.

“All good,” he says. “They only complained a little about my bedtime methods.” You walk over to the far left cabinet, open it and take out the bottle of bourbon and a glass without really thinking about it.

“Why are you waiting in here?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him. “Isn’t there a game on? You could have sat in the living room.” You look away from him to pour some of the liquor, only look up again when he doesn’t answer.

“So does that mean it was a very good night,” Dean asks, eyes on the glass and then slowly going up, “or a very bad one?” You snort, hold up the bottle.

“You want one?” you ask. Dean chews at his bottom lip, making a face. Probably about to tell you he needs to head out, has plans, when— 

“Sure,” he says. “One for the road.” 

With a nod, you take out a second glass, pour some of the dark liquid into it, then carry both glasses over to the aisle, hold one out to Dean. He takes it, holds it up to his nose while you put yours down, shrug off your coat, the one you put on when you suddenly started feeling self-conscious earlier about the body-hugging black dress you decided to wear. Dean’s giving you a slow grin when you turn back to him.

“What?” you ask, voice suspicious.

“You look good,” he says. You roll your eyes at him.

“Whatever.”

“No, you do.”

“Alright, Dean,” you answer, shaking your head a little as you take a slow sip. Both of you are quiet for a moment. 

“So,” Dean says, rolling the glass in his hand and he’s looking at you expectantly when you turn to him. “Who was it?” You press your lips together, study him.

“You’re gonna lose your shit,” you say, already trying to hide your grin. Dean widens his arms.

“Try me,” he says. You take a deep breath, let it out slowly. You chew at your lip for a second, put down the glass..

“Tom,” you say, and you can’t help but bring your hands up to your face when you see Dean’s expression, hide behind them. The neighbor you both used to hate with a passion, even more so when he left his wife and kid for a waitress he'd met on a business trip. A waitress who promptly dumped his ass when he showed up at her doorstep with a backpack and a hopeful smile.

“No way,” Dean says and you nod, drop your hands, pick up your glass again. He makes a horrified face. “He is such a douche. I thought you agreed.” 

“Listen,” you say with a shrug, “it’s slim pickings out there. He’s single, has a job and he can almost hold a conversation. That makes him hot shit in the available dating pool.”

“You know you once said you’d like to murder him with a hammer,” Dean continues, but your next chuckle is half-hearted. “A claw hammer, you were real specific about it.” You swirl your drink in your glass, look at it.

“Yeah, well,” you say. “I guess I just wanted to feel desired for an evening and he asked me out, so…” You take another sip. Slowly look back up at Dean. The joviality is gone from his face, replaced by something like shame.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice low and rough. “I didn’t mean… You can go on dates with whoever you want. It’s none of my business.” You tap a finger against the glass in your hand, shift around in the sudden awkwardness.

“I need to get out of these shoes,” you say and Dean nods. 

“Yeah,” he says, seeming still embarrassed about talking shit about your date, even though there is nothing but shit to talk about him. He clears his throat, puts down the glass. You stretch your shoulders.

“Anything I should bring for Ashley’s party on Saturday?” you ask as you’re straightening too. “Starts at six, right?” Dean freezes, his gaze dropping.

“Yeah,” he says, “about that…”

“Dean,” you say, voice frustrated, “I told you, if you two don’t want Emma and JJ staying over, that’s fine, but you’re gonna have to tell them that, because I know they’ll want to stay, and–”

“Party’s cancelled,” Dean says and you frown at him.

“Okay,” you say, “are you doing something else for her birthday, going away, or…”

“Jesus,” Dean says, looking to the side. “You’re gonna make me say it?”

“Say what?” you shoot back, already annoyed at his caginess, too tired for this shit, but the look on Dean’s face makes you close your mouth again.

“We broke up,” he says, tone sober. “Well, she broke up with me. Details, I guess.” He raises the glass again, drains what’s left in it, maybe to avoid looking at you. You’re quiet for a moment, your hands going together as you watch him. The way his eyes flit back and forth like they always do when he’s said something that might make him vulnerable. 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” you say, voice low. “Do you… do you want to talk about it?”

“‘S alright,” he says, hands pushed into his pockets, looking down. 

“Come on,” you say, picking up your glass again. “Bring the bottle.”

“It’s really–” Dean starts, but you interrupt him, already halfway out of the kitchen.

“Heels,” is all you say over your shoulder.

You walk over to the couch, kick your shoes off with a groan. It doesn’t take long for you to hear Dean’s footsteps coming up behind you. He walks up to you, looking down at you with an expression that asks, happy? In response, you hold out your glass, and he fills it, then his own, before putting the bottle on the low couch table and sitting down next to you with a deep, world-weary sigh.

The two of you sit there, you with your legs tucked under you, Dean with his wide, swirling the glass where he’s holding it. You look at him, look at his features, the way he moves. All so intensely familiar from all the years you’ve spent together and then suddenly becoming less familiar. Sometimes you look at him and for a moment, you forget what part of your life you’re in.

“So?” you say, taking another sip from your drink. Dean clenches his jaw before he answers.

“She says I’m unavailable,” he replies, unable not to add a slightly sarcastic tinge to the last word. “Says she doesn’t feel like I’m really interested in her, or ready to commit.”

“Hmm,” you mumble, taking another sip, holding back on any commentary for now.

“That living with me used to be fun, but now it’s like living with a ghost,” he continues. His eyebrows shoot up as he raises his glass, brings it up to his mouth. “I’m aware of the irony.”

“Does she know about any of that?” you ask. “The hunting?” Dean shakes his head before the glass has left his lips.

“Nah,” he says. “Not touching that with a ten-foot pole.” You nod, then shrug.

“Big part of your life to keep a secret from someone you’re supposed to trust,” you comment, and Dean turns to you, looks at you.

“How’s that work?” he asks, frowning a little, looking handsome as ever. “You know how people react to that.”

“I’m just saying,” you reply, raising your hands. “I don’t have the solution. Just… thinking out loud.” Dean huffs, then looks back at his glass.

“If it’s so easy,” he continues, “then how come we didn’t make it work?” He looks back at you, something deep and sad in his eyes. You return the gaze, take your time with answering.

“It’s not easy. And because she’s right,” you reply, voice serious. “Living with you’s like living with a ghost.” 

You see the pain your words set free in Dean’s eyes. The crinkling of the skin around his eyes, the slight movement of his lips like he’s trying to find the right words to say. Not like you haven’t thrown much worse stuff at him, and he at you. The two of you were always passionate, that’s for sure.

“It wasn’t always, for what it’s worth,” you add, hoping to soften the blow of your words a little. “It’s just something that happened over time. Ashley might be a bit ditzy, but I know she saw the same thing in you that I did. It’s why she was so crazy about you.” You take another sip as Dean scoffs, but it’s half-hearted.

“Ditzy, huh?” he asks and you smile at him. “Should have just told me you didn’t like her.” You breathe out slowly.

“It’s not about her, Dean,” you answer and he frowns. “You just moved on so quickly, I… I don’t know.” You look down, but feel Dean’s eyes on you. When you look up, his expression is soft.

“Tell me,” he says.

“I didn’t want you to move on,” you say, a sad smile forming on your lips. “I wanted you to be hurt, wanted you to regret not putting your all into this marriage. I wanted you to be miserable. But now… I want you to be happy, Dean. I really do.” He nods slowly.

“Somehow that’s worse,” he replies, and in a way, you know what he means. The anger the two of you felt toward each other at failing at your marriage, failing your children, failing the promise of doing it right, doing it better - it's what kept you going for a long while. Afterwards, it was just you and the shards of a broken family.

“I just wanted you to get better,” you continue slowly. “This toughing it out business, it was never gonna work. And I was so angry because I just wanted you to try, when I know now that it’s more complicated than that. I might have been pretty nasty at times. Not proud of that.” Your hand finds one of your feet, and you press your fingers into the stiff muscles of your sole.

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, leaning forward, elbows going to his knees, “not like I didn’t give you reason to.” You press your lips together.

“Anyway,” you say, “it’s all in the past.”

“Maybe,” Dean asks, sighs, then reaches for the bottle again. You had red wine at dinner, hoping to drown out your date’s yapping, but the feeling of being on your couch, the bourbon warming your stomach and, if you’re being honest, Dean’s closeness, the still familiarity of it, is making you feel comfortable and soft. You shift around.

“So,” Dean says, raising the bottle as you hold out your glass, “is Tom gonna get lucky?” You snort, see the twitch at the corners of Dean’s mouth.

“I would rather never have sex again,” you mutter and Dean chuckles, grins. It warms your heart - it’s been a while since you’ve seen him smile, it feels like. 

“You think he talks a lot during?” Dean asks, putting the bottle down, and you push your leg out, press your foot against his side, groan theatrically.

“Oh my God, shut up,” you say and Dean grins again. “I don’t even wanna think about it.”

“Hey, I need to know what my wife gets up to, okay? That’s how that whole co-parenting business works,” he says and you immediately shake your head.

“Ex-wife,” you correct him, pushing your foot into his side again. To your surprise, Dean grabs it and squeezes it in one hand.

“We’re not divorced, sweetheart,” he says. “You’re not rid of me yet.” 

You huff as Dean gives you a sideways glance. A soft, gentle one, like he’s checking you’re okay with what he’s saying. He leans forward, puts his glass on the couch table with a grunt, then leans back, and takes your foot in both hands, puts it in his lap. Presses his thumb into your sole and drags up. You open your mouth to complain, but then your eyes fall shut immediately. A small humming sound leaves you despite yourself.

“Remember when I used to do this when you were pregnant?” he says, and you slowly blink your eyes open, look at him. There’s something unreadable on Dean’s face as he keeps massaging you.

“I remember you doing this when I decided to go on that stupid hike that one time I insisted we go camping,” you reply, taking another sip of your drink, looking at Dean over the rim of your glass. “I don’t know why in the world I thought that would be a good idea with a toddler.”

“Hey, don’t knock that trip,” he responds, hitting a particularly sensitive spot and making you gasp. “Pretty sure we made JJ while we were there.” You chuckle.

“Pretty sure we made him at Sam’s graduation party,” you reply. Dean grins, and it’s his old one - the one you used to get a lot of, the life-affirming, loving one, the one he gave you everytime the two of you realized that you’d made it - made it out, survived, that life was only just beginning. The one you saw less and less of as Dean started struggling, feeling like he was never good enough, was never gonna really belong in this life. 

When the joy of making it out became yesterday’s news and all the old wounds he’d never fully recovered from started catching up with him. The ones you’d begged him to deal with, get help for. He started pulling away from you, left you with the responsibility of trying to keep it all together.

“Long time ago,” he mumbles, looking down at his lap.

“Yeah,” you say. Both of you are quiet, Dean just holding your foot now but not letting go of it, a strangely intimate gesture. 

“I know it’s hard,” you say eventually, your voice quiet and Dean seems to have been deep in thought, because he blinks, looks over at you. “Digging yourself out of that hole. Believe me, I’ve teetered at the edge of it, too. But you have to, Dean. It’s not just about you, or us. It’s about them.”

You don’t need to clarify who you’re talking about - of course you don’t. They’re the center of it all, the reason you couldn’t afford to fall apart when your marriage did. The reason Dean is here, because JJ asked if his dad could come over rather than sleeping at his new place, the one your son has had you pick him up a few times from cause he says it doesn’t feel homey, Dean with the saddest look in the world, like he thought he was the biggest failure to ever live. The two of them aren’t little babies anymore, Emma’s gonna be ten in the fall. Time is passing so quickly it sometimes terrifies you.

“You know what Emma asked me the other day?” you say, looking at your foot still there in Dean’s hands. You can’t look at his face, because you don’t want to see his expression. “She asked me, ‘mom, is daddy sad?’ And I didn’t know what to answer, Dean. Because I think you are. I think you’re really sad, and I think you have been for a while.” 

Carefully, you look up. Dean’s brow is low, his jaw clenched. The devastation of his daughter seeing him as only human is clear on his face.

“Fuck,” he mutters and you let out the breath you were holding. But then, to your surprise, Dean looks up at you, something stoic there. “I’ve been seeing someone.” You blink, unsure at the seemingly sudden switch between topics.

“A–aside from Ashley?” you ask with a frown, then tilt your head with an angry expression. “Dean, you didn’t cheat on her, did you? That would be so–”

“A friggin’ therapist,” Dean interrupts you, shaking his head at you, unbelieving. “Did you think–? No, I’ve been– A therapist, okay?” You feel heat rush to your face at your assumption, and then something sudden and soft in your chest at his words.

“You… you have?” you ask, sounding unsure.

“Yes,” Dean says, still sounding offended. “It’s the one Sam went to, he recommended him to me. Jesus, you really think I’d cheat on Ashley?” You open your mouth, then close it.

“That’s amazing, Dean,” you say, leaning forward when he refuses to look at you. You gently slap his arm. “Hey. That’s amazing, okay?” He grumbles a little and you can’t help but chuckle.

“It’s… weird,” he says, looking amused now. “Still a lot of stuff I need to lie about, the apocalypses and monsters and all that, but I didn’t think it would be like that. It feels kinda good, you know?” Your heart beats faster and you can’t hide your grin.

“How long have you been going?” you ask, and Dean shrugs.

“Few months,” he says. You frown.

“You didn’t tell me,” you point out. Dean shrugs again, looking bashful.

“Wanted to make sure I could stick to it first,” he mutters. You swallow, keep looking at him. Feel the pull of emotions in you, like a weird mix of all the affection you feel for Dean and the sadness that it took so long for him to figure out he’s worth being cared for.

“So,” you ask, “he tell you what an idiot you were for letting your hot ass wife go?” You tried for a jokey tone but the look Dean shoots you tells you you’ve hit something soft and vulnerable. He gently squeezes your foot.

“Don’t need a therapist to tell me that,” he replies, looking into your eyes. Your breath catches, and you swallow. “Figured that one out all on my own.”

Both of you are silent and it’s like you’re holding your breath together. You feel the pads of Dean’s fingers on your ankle and then they travel up an inch. All the while he keeps looking into your eyes.

“Dean,” you say, needing to lick your lips, ignoring how much his look is making your mouth feel dry. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says, his fingertips running over your skin. “Just… reminiscing.”

“You mean feeling lonely?” you ask, tone soft but a challenge in it.

“No. Yeah. Maybe,” Dean replies. “I don’t know.” His fingers slip higher on your leg.

“Dean,” you say again, “we made such good progress. You wanna fuck that up cause you don’t want to be alone for five minutes?” Dean purses his lips.

“Five minutes?” he says. “That how you remember me?” 

You can’t help but chuckle, and Dean grins at the fact that he managed to make you laugh. He looks proud of himself. There’s something so comfortable and familiar about his cockiness. It makes you want to wring his neck a little too, but it also feels nice to see it. You haven’t, not in a long while.

“You know it’s not,” you say, and then Dean’s other hand travels up, this one at the back of your leg, where it tickles. It makes you shift around, clench your thighs.

“I just miss you, okay?” he says, voice low and deep. “Miss us. You don’t miss me at all?” You chew at your lip, swirl the liquor in your glass. 

Of course you miss him. You miss the easiness with which he sometimes tackled life. The way the two of you found yourself working so well as a team, just like you did when you used to hunt together. One always filling in where the other one was lacking. Miss the passionate way he loved you, and you him.

“I’ve got a couple of battery-powered friends that help me when I get too nostalgic,” you reply instead and Dean grimaces.

“Ouch,” he replies, “guess I deserve that.” You chuckle, stretch your toes. 

“But yeah, you might play the odd supporting role in what I think about.”

It’s out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. Dean blinks, and then his expression settles into something self-assured, something steady. Like he’s been trying to find the rhythm to a song and now he finally has it.

“Is that right?” he drawls, and it makes heat shoot to your core, the way he says it, the way he looks at you. You almost can’t help it when you slowly run your calf along his leg.

“Maybe,” you say, your voice soft. Dean’s fingertips move again, making it feel like he’s sending lightning bolts from them straight into you.

“Anything in particular you like to think about?” he asks. You shift your foot, now dangerously close to Dean’s crotch. You notice your breath is coming a little heavier.

“Our honeymoon,” you say and a dreamy grin comes over Dean’s face. 

“Whirlpool?” he asks and you need to bite your lip.

“Yep,” you say, popping the p. “That one night we didn’t sleep. Got room service in the morning.” Dean’s fingertips wander higher, now nearly at your knee.

“Fuck, you wore me out that night,” he says, voice scratchy. “I thought you were gonna give me a heart attack, the way you kept wanting more and more. You were insatiable.” You clench your thighs, slow, delicious pressure building in you.

“I was,” you reply. “I was in love. Happiest woman on the planet.”

Dean’s touching stutters, then stops. He looks at you, like he’s asking you to tell him to keep going. Your chest is rising and falling, and so is his. 

“I want you so bad right now,” he says, his tone quiet, like he’s terrified you’ll actually hear him and say no. Your breath catches.

“What about Ashley?” you ask. Dean shakes his head, just a little.

“I was happy when she ended things,” he says. “I think I was hoping she would. We never had what you and I had.” You tilt your head to the side.

“Don’t make this her fault,” you say. “It’s not flattering to me.”

Dean’s hand squeezes your skin where it is, setting another volley of explosive lust free in you. 

“You’re right,” he says, looking deep into your eyes. “I’m sorry.” You nod slowly.

“Alright,” you reply, returning the look, raising your chin as you decide to take the leap. “Now come here.”

Dean looks at you for a second longer. Then he suddenly moves, pushes himself up. You take a sharp breath as he leans over you, but the truth is your legs drop open, allowing Dean to slot between them. He looks down at you and your head drops back to look up at him, watch him as he narrows his eyes at you.

“You’re right, you know?” he says. “I’m an idiot, okay? That what you want to hear?” You nod. Dean’s hand lands on your thigh, and at your confirmation, it slowly starts wandering.

“You are an idiot,” you say, your own hand landing on his chest and traveling down. 

“The biggest one in the world,” he says, shifting around and then your mouth drops open as he presses himself against you, your dress riding up, helped by his hand that is wandering higher and higher. “Didn’t know how good I had it. I had everything I ever needed.” You press your lips together, look at him defiantly.

“Fuck what you needed,” you say, surprised at your own intensity. “What about what I needed?” Dean’s lips move, and then he settles, looks into your eyes. He breathes in slowly, then lets it out.

“I know exactly what you need,” he says. He reaches for the glass, still in your hand, puts it down on the floor next to the couch. Then he starts moving lower.

You close your eyes as Dean presses an open-mouthed kiss to the top of your breasts, strong hands grasping your sides and keeping you in place for him. He nuzzles at that part of you and your hands go to his head, pulling him closer. He grunts in response, presses his tongue against your skin.

“Fuck,” you mumble, but Dean isn’t deterred. He kisses against your breast, through the dress, then moves lower again, kisses against your stomach. You shift around, hot seething need suddenly burning inside you.

This is a terrible mistake, surely. You shouldn’t do this. Both you and Dean are feeling a little lonely, he because of Ashley, you because of your shitty date. Sleeping with him is not the solution to this. But the way he’s touching you, wanting you, feels like it’s making you dumb. You know what Dean can do, what he’s capable of. How well you fit together. You’re sick of denying yourself in the name of reason. You’re sick of always being the responsible adult.

Dean’s hands move and wander under the skirt of your dress, slowly pushing it up. He groans, then lowers his head, runs his nose over the skin right where your panties end. His breath fans over you, making you squirm.

He doesn’t make you wait. Just presses his mouth against the fabric. It makes your eyes flutter shut.

“God, I miss how you smell,” he mumbles. Your eyebrows go together as your hands wander down, looking for the sides of your panties to drag them down.

Dean understands, gets there before you and starts tugging. Once he gets them over your ass and then your legs when you bring them up, give him room, he drops them somewhere, scoots lower, his arms pushed under you, hands around your waist, your thighs around his head.

He starts kissing you, his lips never leaving you. Low on your stomach, against the insides of your thighs, exploring you, warming you up. Your hands fly out, one going to the back of the couch, the other to the side of his head. You run your thumb along his cheek, and Dean opens his eyes, looks up at you. Like he’s waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

When he lowers his head again, he goes for the prize. His lips run along your own and you shudder before he starts kissing you there, soft, gentle, but deep. It makes your toes curl pretty much immediately. 

Dean starts licking at you, in that way that he knows drives you crazy. The way he discovered a few weeks into your relationship, after trying different methods. This way has you squirming for him, shifting around. He once told you that that move usually had the women he was with begging for him. Not you, though. You started giving him orders instead.

He used to say that's what made him fall on love with you.

Your hand wanders to the back of his head and you feel Dean huff against you. He lets you push him closer, his nose pressing against you as he moves his face a little, brings his tongue to your entrance and starts exploring it with the tip of it. You let your head fall back, bite your lip. Allow yourself to enjoy.

Your stomach is tight with arousal as you gently start rocking your lower body. Dean moves again, presses his mouth over your clit. He drags one arm out from under you, lets the hand run down your thigh, pressing it closer against his head, like he wants you to squeeze him there, hold him tight with nowhere to go. You can do that.

You raise your head again to look at him. Press down on his head a little harder, bring your thighs together, and Dean groans against you as you keep rocking yourself against him while he sucks your clit into his mouth. He’s always loved this. Surrounded by nothing but you, he used to call it, making you giggle. You never expected to miss it this much. The look on his face from what little you can see of it. His sounds, small, low grunts. It’s intoxicating to have that effect on someone. You’ve missed being worshipped like that.

You close your eyes, roll your hips. Concentrate on the sweet, soft feeling building in you. The joy of being with someone who knows your body well, who cares about your pleasure, enjoys it as their own. 

You can’t help but wonder if, in another world where you never confronted Dean about his behavior, where he never moved out, where you never went on a date with Tom, you would be in this exact same position now. Dean and you used to make it a point to get time to yourself. Go on dates, get the kids out of the house for long sessions of love making. Be conscious of each other. You did a good job, both of you did. For the longest time, you did.

You gently run your fingers over where you’re still holding Dean, scratch at his scalp and it makes him moan against you, the vibrations tickling you. His hand moves off your thigh in response and the next second, you feel his fingers at your entrance. You press your fingertips into his skin, encouraging him. He enters your with two fingers a second later.

He finds you like he never left, like he didn’t spend nearly a year away from you. You run your foot over his back, the fabric of his shirt soft and rough at the same time against your sole. Kind of like Dean. A lot like Dean, actually.

“Yes,” you mumble, bring your head up again. “Ugh, that’s… right there.” And Dean concentrates there, the pads of his fingers working at you from one side, his tongue and beautiful lips from the other. You press your lips together to try to be quiet.

He opens his eyes, looks at you again. The man you married, decided to spend your life with, decided to make the father of your children. Right there, between your legs, through trial and turmoil and grief, latched on to you, eyelids low.

The orgasm hits you and you grab Dean’s hair, make fists of it, needing something to hold on to. You rock your body up but he’s holding on to you so hard it’s almost impossible to move, but even only pressing against his strength is delicious. High, small whimpers leave you, your body too electric to be louder.

And then you drop. No pretense. You know how you must look right now, vein pulsing on your forehead, flushed, a little sweaty. But Dean crawls up your body, looks down at you. When you manage to blink your eyes open, you see his expression.

He looks at you like you’re the best thing in the world.

You swallow, emotion suddenly thick on your throat. Maybe you should stop here, make a joke about you getting yours but that it’s ultimately for the better. That you should be reasonable, both of you, and then Dean can get into his car and drive to his empty apartment, and you climb into your empty bed and all is well.

Instead, you grab his face and drag him in for a kiss.

You taste yourself on him, and Dean immediately presses himself close to you, returning the kiss. He’s just so goddamn soft to your touch. Everything about him. He tries to hide it like it’s the worst thing in the world, but you know.

He is also, in your humble opinion, wearing way too many clothes. To remedy that, you run your hands to his shoulders, start pushing his flannel off him. Dean helps you, neither of you willing to separate the kiss, so you do it blindly, uncoordinated. He presses himself against you, his jeans rough against your bare pussy but you can feel him hard there. You run your hands down his back to his ass, try to bring him closer. When you feel the tattered back pocket of his pants, you pull your head back and roll your eyes.

“I hate those jeans,” you mumble and Dean grins. 

“Too bad you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore,” he says, one eyebrow arching up.

Rather than reply, you bring your hands to his chest, push at him. Dean follows with a confused look as you sit up, keep pushing at him until he plops down against the back of the couch. The next second, you straddle him.

You kiss him again before he can say anything. Dean reaches up, hands tangling in your hair, fingers stroking the skin of your neck and face. You press yourself against him, and he groans into your mouth. You pull back just a little, keep your face close to him.

“Take them off,” you say with a grin that Dean returns immediately. It feels light. It feels new. 

He drags you in, kisses you again, his hands wandering all over your body. He presses his tongue into your mouth, and when you moan around it, he squeezes you where he’s holding you.

“Fuck,” he mumbles when he breaks away, “you’re so fucking sexy.” You bite your lip, then press yourself down against him and Dean moans before pulling you in once more, like he can’t get enough of you.

You hear the door upstairs open and pull away from him, stop moving immediately. Dean looks up at you, blinks, seems out of it.

“Wha–” he starts and slap your hand over his mouth, keep it there.

You hear JJ’s small steps cross the upstairs hall. Then a second of nothing, and then the slight squeak of Emma’s bedroom door, the hinges of which you’ve been meaning to have a look at but just haven’t found the time. The door closing. Nothing else for a few seconds. You slowly let out the breath you were holding.

Dean’s frowning when you look back at him, drop your hand from his mouth to his chest. He’s leaned back, and his hands travel over your hips when he speaks. Intimate, sweet. 

“What’s JJ doing in Em’s room?” he asks, voice low. You take a slow breath.

“He goes there sometimes when he can’t sleep,” you mumble. “She’s fine with it. I told her she can tell him to stay in his room, but I think she’s secretly happy about it.” Dean huffs a little.

“So he’s gotten too big to climb into our— I mean, yours, huh?” he asks, only correcting himself at the last second. You shake your head slowly.

“He doesn’t like coming to my bed,” you say, unsure whether this is the moment to tell Dean this. “Says it feels too empty without you there.”

Dean swallows, clenches his jaw. It’s not a big deal, which is why you haven’t told Dean about this, despite you both still keeping a good line of communication open where it comes to the kids. Still, you’re sure it’s not a nice thing to hear. It sure wasn’t for you when JJ told you, although you made sure not to show him that.

“Dean,” you say and you bring your hands up, cup his cheeks and he blinks to look at you. “They’re fine. We’re fine.” He looks up at you, eyes soft.

Dean’s hands tighten on your hips. He keeps looking at you and then, just as you’re about to ask if he’s okay, he wraps his arms around you, pulls you in.

Your face is suddenly close to his, and damn it if you couldn’t get lost in his eyes just like you used to. He raises his chin, his lips moving before he finds the words.

“I love them so much,” he says, voice low, and you nod.

“I know you do,” you reply, running your thumb along his skin. “And they know that too.”

Dean keeps looking at you, studies you. He swallows.

“I don’t want you to go on dates with douchebags like Tom,” he says finally. “That’s not…” He stops, maybe unsure how to continue. You shake your head as you lean in again.

“Dean,” you nearly whisper. “It’s okay.” And then you kiss him again.

Because the truth is, you don’t want to be going on dates with guys like Tom either. Or with any guy that isn’t Dean. You want him. Only him.

Dean kisses you back, inhaling sharply through his nose, and your heart beats faster at how much you’ve missed him. This can’t mean anything, though. Things need to go back to normal tomorrow, because although you want nothing more than Dean inside you right now, you can’t fuck this up for Emma and JJ.

That’s what you swear to yourself, as your hands wander down Dean’s chest to the button of those jeans you hate.

He separates from you, looks down where you open them. You press yourself up on your knees when you're done. Dean raises his ass, starts pushing the jeans and his briefs down in one go. You help him get them to his knees and then you lower yourself again.

You can feel Dean’s cock pressed against you and he pulls you in, kisses you again. You let him for a few seconds, then pull back, bring your hand to your mouth, collect some spit. Then you find him between your legs, half hard, and wrap your wet fingers around him. 

Dean takes a sharp breath and you pull your head back to watch him. He chases your lips, but you keep them out of his reach with a grin, at least until Dean takes your face in his hands again, drags you down to kiss him. You moan into his mouth as his cock twitches in your hand. Goddamn sap. That’s what he is. But the way he feels against your mouth and body is so intoxicating that you’re willing to forgive him for it.

Dean grows hard in your hand and when he’s all the way there, you press up on your knees again. Dean watches you, eyes soft. His hands go to your hips, stroking them and then he looks down again.

You lower yourself until you feel him against you. Briefly searching, and then he slips into you.

He feels familiar and amazing. You can’t fight the soft smile on your lips. That’s the only cock I wanna see for the rest of my life, you once told him when you were kneeling between his legs. Dean chuckled, shook his head while he brushed some hair behind your ear. You’re a damn romantic, he replied.

Your hands go to his shoulders and Dean looks up, into your eyes. You sink down on him fully with a small gasp, both of you not daring to move for a second.

You remember the first time, still, in his car. Remember so many times after. After deaths, after loss. Slow mornings when the world outside felt so far away, where nothing but the two of you mattered. When you tried for your babies. You don’t remember the last time, before it all ended, and that’s always made you a little sad.

You wonder if this will be the last time. At least you’ll get to remember it.

You begin rocking your hips, and Dean’s eyes fall shut. He squeezes you harder where he holds you. Then his hands wander up, to your shoulders, as he starts tugging down your dress, the straps of your bra. It exposes your breasts, and Dean leans forward, presses his lips against the soft skin there when they spill out. He catches a nipple between his lips and sucks it into his mouth.

Your head drops back and Dean wraps his arms around you, the tight grip helping you with your movement. His hands claw at your exposed ass, squeezing it, the way he always liked to do. In bed, or just casually around the house. Couldn’t keep his hands off you.

He moves one hand, bringing it between your bodies. Presses his fingers against your clit and your body bucks as you clench down on him and he hisses.

You move faster, feel him drag along your walls. A whimper you can barely suppress leaves you. You lean back a little, one arm going behind you to his thigh to hold yourself up. Snap your hips.

You want to be quiet, but it’s almost impossible. With the double fronts of pleasure, Dean knowing exactly how to touch you, a skill he proudly perfected over the years, you taste thick, intense relief in your throat almost immediately. You make a noise, then another, and he shushes you.

“Gotta be quiet,” he mumbles and you nod along, barely hearing him.

“Yes,” you press out along with a high whimper. “Oh God, fuck, Dean, I’m gonna–”

Your body convulses, and then you need to drop forward, your arms slinging around Dean’s neck as you press your face against his shoulder while you ride it out. It’s the only way you can even remotely hope to be quiet. Dean’s hand shoots up to the back of your head, grips the hair there, the slight pain both intensifying the pleasure and grounding you in it.

As the waves die down you slump against him, press yourself close, looking for contact. Dean just keeps touching you, stroking you as you come down, slowly, back to earth. 

When you can, you kiss your way up his neck with small hums. Dean chuckles low in his throat. Always teased you for how lovey and soft you were once you came. When you reach his mouth, you peck him. You can feel him grin, so you give his lip a quick bite.

You pull back, look at Dean’s face. The way your heart beats hard in your chest isn’t just from the sex. It’s something else too. Dean blinks, maybe thinking the same. You’re not sure what he sees when he looks at you - are you still the same he knew? Is he?

As if he can hear the question in your mind, he suddenly pulls you in. Your arms are still around his shoulders and they tighten when you feel him push up.

Hey lays you down on the couch table behind you, kisses you again. You moan into Dean’s mouth, run your hands into his hair, then down his body. Dean pushes himself up, looks down at you. You grab the hem of his shirt, start pulling it off him.

He needs to lift one arm, then the other and when you drop the shirt behind you, his hands go to your dress, bunched up and pulled down around your middle. He tugs at the fabric, then grunts.

“How the fuck do you–” he mumbles, and you reach for this face, turn him to you. You’re already shaking your head.

“Just leave it,” you say as you pull him in. “Make love to me, Dean.” 

Dean dips his head, kisses you again as he begins moving. You just pull him close, hold him. Dean breaks the kiss, but it’s only to push his face against your neck. You wrap your legs around him.

He stays like that, his breath fanning over your neck, at least until his rhythm quickens. Then Dean pushes himself up on his arms, looks down at you again while he keeps thrusting. You bring your hands up, hold his face. The way you used to do when a hunt was particularly difficult. The way you did after you finally got to take JJ home from the hospital after weeks.

You see the tell-tale signs - that slight pull up of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes. The catch of his breath. You always loved watching him come, the way all his pretenses just slowly melt away and he just becomes lust and passion, slave to his body. 

He leans down again, his lips passing over yours. A first low grunt leaves him and his one hand goes to your thigh so he can better fuck into you, harder, but he keeps his eyes open, looks into yours. You kiss his lips, and then Dean’s thrusts stutter before a deep groan leaves him. He presses his lips against yours, then presses his eyes closed and his forehead against you as he thrusts a few times more, then stills, pushed deep.

You kiss him on the cheek, then close to his nose while his eyes are still closed. Run your hands over his back. 

If you were to close your eyes, this could feel like your life only a couple of years ago. When things felt normal. Felt right. 

Dean moves his head, then looks down at you. His gaze goes over your face, like he’s trying to read it. You give him a soft smile.

“We better get cleaned up,” you say, and he slowly nods.

Dean grabs some kitchen towels for you and you wipe yourself down, before rushing upstairs to the big bathroom. You take off your dress and put on your robe, then walk downstairs again.

Dean’s just putting on his jacket. The glasses and bottle are gone, cleaned up by him.

He’s fidgeting with his hands and his car key, looking between the floor and you as you approach him.

“I should probably get going,” he says and you nod slowly.

“Yeah, I guess,” you mutter. You watch him swallow, that look he gets when he’s trying to pretend whatever he’s about to say doesn’t mean much coming over him.

“I’d ask if I can stay,” he says, voice forced into lightness, “make that bed a little less empty, but it would be confusing to the kids if I’m here tomorrow morning.” You chuckle, then nod. Look at him. 

He looks completely vulnerable. Fidgeting, unsure. Maybe a little scared. It breaks your heart and warms it. You don’t know him like this. He’s always been confident, boisterous after you’ve had sex. Told you all the things he was gonna do next time.

Maybe, just like you, he’s worried there won’t be one.

“You could come by for breakfast,” you say quickly, and Dean blinks, looks up at you. You can’t hide the smile spreading on your face. At the prospect of having him here in the morning, even if you won’t have him here in the night. “Emma’s been complaining that my pancakes are no good.” Dean chuckles, and there he is again. Like someone walking into a room and turning on the light.

“There’s that movie JJ’s been wanting to see,” Dean adds. “We could… I don’t know, if you wanted…”

“The one with the giant robots?” you ask, and he nods.

“The one with the giant robots,” Dean confirms. Both of you smile softly at each other.

“Sounds like a plan,” you add and Dean raises his chin, takes a slow breath. “And maybe you and I can talk… about this.” He clenches his jaw.

“That’d probably be good,” he says. “Maybe after bedtime?”

And just like that, you’ve planned an entire day together. Just like you used to.

“Dean,” you say, and he looks into your eyes. It almost looks like he’s bracing himself. “This needs to be about what’s best for them, too.” He nods slowly.

“I know,” he says. Then he’s quiet while he looks at you. His gaze is almost too much to bear. He knows you too well and you him. It’s impossible to hide. So what he says surprises you.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?” 

You take a slow breath, then nod. Dean steps closer, slowly, not taking his eyes off you. 

One of his hands goes up, brushes some of your hair behind your ear. His thumb rests on your cheekbone and he just looks at you for a moment.

When he leans in to kiss you, it’s immeasurably soft. You lay your hand on his arm, but not to pull him in or push him away. Only to touch him.

He stays close when he separates. His nose brushing against yours. Then he clears his throat, takes a deep breath.

“I better head out,” he says, and you can only nod. He turns, walks towards the door and you follow him.

He stops just before taking the first step down to the street, turns back. He seems unsure almost, like he hasn’t settled on what he wants to say yet. He moves his key around in his hand.

“You know,” he says, “I wish I could go back. Do it all over again. Do it better.” You wrap your arms around yourself.

“It’s in the past, Dean,” you say, voice quiet. “We can’t change it.” He nods slowly, looks down.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he replies, then he looks up at you, at your face, and it’s like he’s looking across all those years. “I love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and tears shoot into your eyes that you quickly try to blink away. Dean looks down again, then turns and starts walking towards his car.

It’s the middle of the night and you’re only in your robe, and it’s kind of freezing, but you still go after him. Your feet are gonna be dirty, but you don’t care. 

Dean turns, frowning when he hears you, and then he opens his arms to wrap them around you as you fall into them.

You stay like that for a long time, his jaw pressed against the side of your head, your face in the fabric just over his chest, the place you can smell him perfectly. He smells so warm. He smells like home.

You pull your head back to look up at him, and he does the same. He looks worried, so you bring up your hand, run your fingers along his cheek.

“Tomorrow,” you say, and he nods slowly. He runs his hands along you. It takes him a long time to let go.

He gets into the car and you watch him as he adjusts how he sits. He’s pushing the keys into the ignition when you knock on the window. He turns his head, then rolls the window down. You give him a soft smile.

“And I love you too,” you say. Dean’s face slackens, something deep and intense coming over it. 

You look at him for a moment longer, and then you turn and walk back up to the house. At the door, you turn. Dean’s still sitting there, watching you. Making sure you’re getting home okay. Like it hasn’t been him all this time. 

He turns the key, nods at you and you raise your hand. It feels strangely formal and makes you chuckle. Then the motor turns over, and he rolls down the street.

You watch until the taillights disappear into the night, and then you turn and walk inside.

[spikycritter]

harness your hopes (18+)

part of the august writing challenge

today’s word: door

contents: knight!steve x princess!reader; reader with a vagina; reader wears a corset and dress; crazy sexual tension!!; jealousy; very slight breath play; dominant steve; forbidden romance and whatnot

Steve’s jaw aches, but his anger hurts more. His armor weights on his body heavily, exhausting him, and it should be pulling his eyes shut. Instead, he’s staring at you.

You, in your silks and ribbons. You, with your corset tied tighter than usual. You, with your manicured hands on another man’s shoulders, fingers laced through his. You, smiling at the visiting prince the way you always smile at him.

You’re doing this to torment him and he knows it. You’d both gone too far and Steve was torn up, guilty over it. Tainting you. Defiling you. You weren’t meant to be with a knight and he wasn’t meant to be with a princess.

But now he seethes. You’re making it a point not to look at him. Your eyes instead fixate on the man before you. Steve’s vision blurs, face and chest hot when the prince puts his hand on your lower back, pulling you in closer to dance. Steve’s fist is tight on the hilt of his sword, knuckles aching.

He shouldn’t let you do this to him but he can’t help it. He’s spent every waking moment thinking of you, and he dreams of you every night. Holding you, caressing you, hearing you laugh. He can’t fight it, and he’s tried, going far enough to meet with other maidens for a quick moment of passion.

Then he goes to his bed and thinks of you.

Hours pass before the crowd thins. Steve watches you yawn and kiss the cheek of the man you’ve been with all night before bidding him farewell. And you have the audacity to pass directly by Steve, your arm brushing against metal plating, sparing him a small glance and a smirk.

He grits his teeth so hard, they squeak.

After a moment, he steps out into the corridor. He follows the smell of the scented oil you’ve rubbed into your skin until he finds you at the door of your chambers.

Hearing the clinking of his armor, you glance at him as he stalks towards you. He can see your shining white teeth in the dim candlelight, your smile mocking.

Steve isn’t gentle with you. He slams you into your door, reveling in the sound you make, the wind knocked out of you. He towers over you, angry brown eyes locked on yours, his jaw tight, nostrils flaring.

“Princess,” he says lowly. Dangerously.

“How kind of you to make sure I’ve gotten back safely.” Then your voice drops. “It’s been thirty two nights and you’ve come to pay me a visit now?”

He reaches behind you to open your door. You stumble backwards, and Steve grabs your forearm to keep you upright as he backs you into your reception room. He kicks the door shut with his heel.

“Where are your maids?”

“Cleaning up after the party, no doubt.”

His big hands cup your cheeks and he pulls you in roughly, hungrily kissing you. You go limp, falling into him, your hands finding his hair.

“You know what you do to me,” he hisses, biting your lip, reveling in your whimper. “You do it on purpose. To spite me.”

“I should be with my own kind, should I not? Is that not what you wanted?”

“What I want is to drive my sword through that boy that thinks he has the right to touch you.”

You laugh, stepping backwards, out of his reach. “He has more of a right than you do.”

Fuming, Steve turns you around, hands on your shoulders as he walks you to your bed chambers. He stops you just short of your bed, your back to him.

With calloused fingers, he immediately begins his work on the buttons of your dress. You shift on your feet, and he knows you’re smiling. He knows he’s fallen straight into your trap, but you won’t be getting away with this behavior.

The heavy silk falls to the floor and pools at your feet. His fingers then move to the ribbon of your corset. He unties it harshly, then tugs it tight, listening to you gasp, your back straightening.

He presses his lips against the shell of your ear. “You are not his. Do you understand?”

You struggle for breath, and Steve pulls the laces ever so slightly tighter.

“Yes,” you moan, and you sigh heavily when his fingers loosen them again, untying it fully and letting the corset fall to the floor with your dress.

He bends you over so that your torso is pressed flush against your sheets and slips your long skirts up above your ass. The metal of his armor is cold against your hot skin and you gasp as he leans over you.

Steve relishes in it.

“Tomorrow,” he says, spreading your legs with one hand, “you will send that prince away with not so much as a smile. Am I clear?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He knows you’ll listen, ever obedient for him, despite your attitude. He slips a hand between your thighs and runs his fingers up your slick folds.

“You delight in making me upset, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you confess.

“Why?”

You laugh bitterly. “Revenge.”

Steve scoffs, gently circling your clit. “Don’t you know I love you, your highness?”

“You have quite a way of showing it.”

Steve laughs. “Oh, Princess.” A fingertip gently prods at your opening. “Just you wait.”

[spikycritter]

hey I'm itching for some drama so to stir up the pot I wanna know what you think each of your Eddies biggest flaws/toxic traits are?

like commitment issues, lazy, too macho, emotionally constipated... I wanna know what's fucked up about them and if there's ever a time when that causes a rift between each Eddie and their corresponding reader?

living for this messiness donning on my best psychologist’s hat (pink with tassels) to discuss with you anon

linecook!Eddie gives big ADHD to me. he’s not a workaholic by any means but he LOVES to cook and feed people and sometimes he can get really into a task like recipe testing at his job and completely lose track of time. and then he’s speeding home to apologize for skipping out on date night totally by accident and feels very guilty and absolutely apologizes in the best way he knows how- food. makes a really complicated and delicious dessert and cuddles with you on the couch until you forgive him.

husky!neighbor!Eddie strikes me as someone who is very comfortable with handling your anger or upset if he does something to piss you off but struggles with his own. he’s from an older generation (cue side smirking) and watched the fallout of having an angry father and tries to shield you from his feelings, even if that’s not the healthiest choice. I see him going for long mopey walks with Frank and chain smoking on the way. until you’re banging on his door an hour later like TALK TO ME. let me have it!! neighbor!Reader craves emotional connection and doesn’t mind if they’re the one to have to initiate it!!

i think of all the versions of Eddie, him and shy!Reader have the least amount of conflict/fights but when they do occur he can’t be angry for long. it’s just not in his nature and especially hard to aim those feelings at someone who he’s helped to coax out of their shell. like.. that’s his emotional support partner. his sweet baby. how can he be mad for any real length of time at the person who has grown so much in their expression of feeling. and if you cry during an argument? its over. all the anger just vacates Eddie’s body the instant you shed a tear, and not on some emotional manipulation type shit, on a level of pride that you’re showing him how you feel!! he’s really gentle with you afterwards and so encouraging and physically affectionate. just bundling you up in his arms and cooing your praises and reminding you just because he got upset doesn’t mean it’s a forever thing.

the roommates… hmm. i think it depends on the situation and where they’re at in the timeline. i think early on by nature of sharing an apartment they learn to carve out their own space when mad (roommate!R stays in their room w the door shut, or Eddie will go for a drive and a joint), and also figure out ways to communicate around the not-talking times. you’ll do Eddie’s laundry when he’s out (which he normally hates doing himself), or he’ll do the dishes while you’re stewing (which normally you love to do but appreciate when he takes the time to do it the Right Way). their arguments are often foreplay tho. unforch. roommate!R needs to bitch Eddie out just as much as he craves being taken for a ride verbally and then devolving to physically. talk about bratting out and topping from the bottom!! I think they both serve their fair share of that.

[spikycritter]

cw: smut.ᐟ sexting.ᐟ secret relationship.ᐟ player!ben.ᐟ hidden girlfriend dynamic.ᐟ 18+

#notes: this idea literally came from this jackles picture. i figured ben would suit the vibe best for it.

wc: 1160

thinking about being player!ben's, secret needy girlfriend...

you met him on a dating app, of all places. ben was definitely older, and more dangerous in that casual way that made your stomach twist in knots. and you were curious enough to swipe right despite knowing exactly what you were getting into, or maybe it was a lack of knowing.

he messaged first, dropping lines that made you laugh to your phone screen and imagine what it'd be like in the same breath.

'i got tattoos older than you, sweet thing.' you blinked at your screen, fingers hovering before typing back, 'well you swiped right on me too or else we wouldn't have matched.'

the age gap was obvious, but it didn’t phase either of you— ben had a way of making you feel like the only one in the room that mattered. and it was from that first message, you knew trouble, in the best possible way, had found you.

ben had spoiled you in a way that felt effortless to him. it wasn’t about the gifts themselves, but the way he liked seeing you melt at his attention. a coffee delivered just because, a little trinket left in your bag for no reason, a smirk when you caught him watching you— he loved claiming you in quiet, private ways.

his hands were everywhere when it mattered, lingering on your back as he drew you close. kisses came slow and deliberate, teasing at first. then demanding, the kind that made the world shrink until there was only you and him.

your world was kept separate from his own. there was a quiet line drawn between what was yours and what belonged to everyone else. you noticed the way he’d glance around before a possessive mask washed over his features, a small, almost imperceptible warning in his eyes.

it wasn’t necessarily about being shamed or hiding you— it was about control, the kind that made your chest tighten in anticipation. with him, every stolen moment felt heightened, charged; the secrecy wasn’t punishment, it was part of the thrill, a reminder that what you shared was yours alone.

you had weaselled your way through ben's day to day, soft-footed, always just on the edge of things. a little shadow that somehow made his boring days turn into silly ones. you tidied up what wasn’t yours, hovered where you weren’t needed, offered to help just to be near him, and he watched it all with a possessive warmth in his chest.

you were gentle, sweet, and insaitable in a way that made him ache to protect you, to hold you close and remind you you didn’t have to blend into the background— you could belong entirely to him, if only he let you.

and then there was the part of him that made your pulse rise in ways no quiet afternoon or stolen cuddle ever could. he touched you and made you feel like you existed only for him.

his hands were skilled, knowing exactly how to draw out every gasp, every whimper from your shy lips. he'd teased you, push you, made you promise you were his over and over again. in ways that left you dizzy and vulnerable, but always careful enough to make you feel safe even when he was reckless.

ben loved that no one outside of you got to touch those parts of him. it wasn’t secrecy, not really— he didn’t hide you. but there was a sharp line drawn between the world and what belonged to him.

one night ben was out with his friends, the room stale with cigar smoke and a buzz of laughter, drinks clinking, voices rising over one another.

ben had a cigar balanced lazily between his lips, while his phone rested in his hands. and there you were— lighting up his screen in little bursts, making him forget the chaos around him. needy thing when he left you alone.

“yea, i wish you were here baby,” he typed. adding “sitting right on my lap.” and for a second he imagined your warm body pressed against his.

a photo of you in that skimpy black lace set flashed over his screen. ben loved the way the straps dug lightly into your skin, nipples darkened through the delicate fabric. his thumb hovered over the screen, heat spreading through his chest.

“you trying to get me kicked out of this bar?” his fingers flew over the keys. “fuck baby girl, wish you were sitting on my cock right now.”

then another photo arrived— closer this time. just your lips, parted, with two fingers between them. he had to adjust himself subtly, shifting in his seat, careful not to make it too obvious.

the laughter from his friends sounded behind him, and one of them leaned over, elbow on his shoulder. “dude you're distracted as hell. who’s texting you like that?”

trying to play it off, a slight bulge formed in his slacks. " s'just my girl,” ben said too casually. vague enough to keep his buddies curious but not enough to give anything away.

another message from you. “please benny come home already, i need you.”

friends of his leaned in closer, smirking like predators. "what chick got you all twisted up like that? look at you, grinning like a fucking idiot.” one elbow nudged him, another rapped the table for emphasis. laughter bubbled around the circle of men, loud and burly, but he didn’t rise to it.

a forced chuckle escaped, shrugging, cigar tapping against his teeth. “it's just some girl man, i swear,” but inside he was smouldering. ben checked his phone one last time, your newest message lighting up the screen, a short 'but i'm so wet benny, please :(' 

and with that he excused himself and left the table, stepping out into the night air. phone in hand, heart hammering with every step closer to you. the bar and the mocking faded behind him, leaving just the thought of you pressed to his mind.

by the time he got home, the world outside didn’t exist. the fucking chaos of his friends, the smoke, bottomless drinks, the jokes— they were gone. all that mattered was the feel of your body, the weight of you pressed under him.

ben set the door closed behind him, leaning down to grab your wrist gently, tugging you closer. "missed you so much angel," he murmured, lips brushing against yours. his hands already working off the delicate pieces you had on.

nobody knew about this— about you and him. not the guys he drank with, or the hot girls he bragged about fucking just to keep his reputation alive. it was easier this way.

you were the only thing he never shared, the only part of his life he kept locked away. they could have the stories, the cigars, the poker hands and the noise— but he had you. in ways they’d never understand.

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[spikycritter]

Enjoy your appointment, @tomtomslongdong! We hope you find it relaxing and transformative.

18+, MDNI┃1.6k

cw: light angst, alcohol use, eddie being a colossal dummy.

We’ve also included a complimentary soothing aloe mask (happy ending) with your treatment. Enjoy!

Another banner evening in Hawkins, Indiana.

Tonight had all the typical makings of every other mediocre night in this pitiful, backwoods town: A party at the rustic lake house of the local seedy drug dealer; hazy rooms clouded with smoke and filled with people reeking of cigarettes and weed and god knows what else; crumpled beer cans and Solo cups littering the backyard all the way to the water like some alkie trail of breadcrumbs.

Except this is nothing like every other night—you refuse to let it be. Because tonight that fucking idiot Edward Franklin Munson was going to notice you. Whether he liked it or not.

You had spent hours getting ready. Days really, if you counted all the time you had spent combing Starcourt for an outfit that felt right. Something sexy, but not trashy. Something that made you feel confident. Something that would slap him in the face with how objectively hot you were.

Something that said in no uncertain terms, I’m right here you blind goddamn walnut.

Problem is, you’re not entirely sure such an outfit exists. The one you settled on is…fine. 

It looks great, hugs everything it’s supposed to just right, flatters your shape and draws the eye to your most pleasing assets. But it feels more like a Halloween costume than anything.

Leaning on the sink, you stared down your own reflection in the dingy and dusty mirror (evidently Reefer Rick never heard of Windex) and exhaled. Beyond the small room, you could hear the sound of the party still raging on, and you gave yourself a slow, determined nod. 

You’ve got this, you coached yourself. He doesn’t stand a chance.

The bathroom door swung open with your surge of newfound confidence behind it, and you strode back into the main part of the house, parting the sea of burnouts like you were Moses.

You found Nancy and Jonathan standing by the keg and gratefully accepted the beer Nancy held out seeing you coming. She commented again on how nice you looked, and flashed an encouraging smile. Silently mouthing, thanks, you brought the cup to your lips and took a deep chug.

It might have been nice having a few minutes to get your sea legs under you, but not two seconds later, the front door of the house had been kicked open and a braying voice you recognized instantly tickled your ears. You chugged again—needing all the liquid courage you could get.

Eddie made his way over, weaving through the crowd greeting people here and there as he went: a hearty clap on the shoulder or back, holding up his ringed fist to bump his knuckles with Rick. You can’t help but watch him, so magnetic and captivating you never would have guessed he was the same social pariah half the town was once convinced was a vessel for Satan.

Your heart hammered in your chest with his every step that brought him closer until he stood before you, his ringed fingers wrapped around a can of beer sweating with condensation.

His brown eyes flitted up and down your body in a glance that realistically only lasted a second, but went on for like half an eternity in your head.

Breath bated, pulse pounding the whole time.

In that second, you ran through a million scenarios of what he might say. Fantasies of his eyes widening, his pupils dilating in the center of those twin pools of espresso, his lips parting in a silent gasp before whispering your name low and full of heat. Or even just a soft, awed Wow…

But none of those things are what Eddie does.

As his eyes scanned over you, his brows drew in a bemused squint, the sort of look he used to give jocks in the lunchroom when they came barreling in, pounding their chests and hooting like a bunch of primates to remind people about the pep rally.

And then…he laughed.

Not a full laugh. Not a jeer, or a loud guffaw at the ceiling, but a quiet snort and a smirk that cuts like a bread knife—sawing through you with serrated steel teeth. He turns his head towards Nancy at your side and shrugs his shoulders.

“Who’s your friend?” he chortled, nodding at your outfit and your face that’s engulfed in flames. “Thought Halloween wasn’t until October.”

You don’t have enough breath to fire back with something biting like, “then why are you wearing that ugly ass mask?”  Instead, all you can do is silently try to swallow the lump in your throat.

You feel about an inch tall. You feel like a fucking clown. You might as well have on a rainbow wig and big red nose. Your feet are as unsteady as if you had on a pair of those comically oversized shoes as you turn and stride as quickly as you can across the room and out the back door.

“Hey! What’d I say?!” Eddie shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

You didn’t bother looking back at him. The only thing you could even think about was getting out of there. Out of that room, out of that house, out of this shitty town—off this goddamn planet.

You hear the clink of a wallet chain and the rustle of dead leaves under sneakers as he chases after you down the hill towards the water. The sun had dipped beneath the horizon not too long ago, leaving a rapidly dimming lilac sky as the audience to your humiliation.

“Go away, Eddie,” you sniffle.

“Oh, come on,” he pleads, “I was only kidding! Don’t be like that.”

He reaches out and grasps your shoulder, trying to turn you toward him. It sears your skin where he makes contact and you whirl around.

“Don’t touch me!” you screech, caught off guard by the shrillness of your own voice that ricochets off the trees and echoes across the lake.

Eddie is too, by the looks of it.

He pulls his hand back, holding them both up in front of him guiltily.

“I-I won’t, okay? I didn’t mean to—”

“Just forget about it,” you snapped. “This was so stupid, I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

You sank down to sit on a toppled log at the edge of the lake, the bark biting into your ass as you hugged your knees to your chest. You stared at the edge of the water, watching it lap gently on the bank, seeping into the pitch black earth and scattered rocks and rotting wood at your feet.

Eddie took a careful step forward to stand beside you, not daring to get too close or take a seat on the log. Part of you wanted to bark at him again, chase him off like you were a dog chained up at a junkyard. But another part almost wanted to whimper and whine like that same dog who was tired of being mean, who just wanted someone to pat their head and tell them they’d done well.

“I’m…I’m sorry, okay?” he said after a minute. “You look beautiful—of course you do. I was just surprised.”

“What? That I look decent for once?”

“No, because…”

He huffed softly, frowning when the words got jumbled in his head on the way out of his mouth.

“I saw you…and I thought that maybe you got all dressed up for somebody here, and…and I don’t know—I didn’t know what to think! Because you don’t look anything like you.”

Tears sting behind your eyes, burning along your lash line as they collect and threaten to spill over. Pressure builds behind your nose, sinuses aching so you scrunch up your face trying to relieve it. Just the knowledge that you’re close to crying is enough to make you feel like crying more.

“Maybe that’s the point, dipshit,” you spat back, the words dripping in venom in a paltry attempt to cover up the pain, “Maybe I didn’t wanna be me for one goddamn night.”

Eddie falls silent. He studies the side of your face, the way the moonlight hits the high points of your cheeks and illuminates the slope of your nose. His eyes drop to his feet and he kicks a rock.

“I just…I can’t see why you would ever wanna be anyone else.”

You sat at the edge of the lake a little longer, always expecting Eddie to turn and trudge back up the hill to the party, offering a half-assed ‘sorry’ as he went. But he never did. He stayed with you until you’d settled your racing heart and fought back the tears you were on the verge of; until you had calmed down enough not to snarl or snap when he took a seat beside you on the log.

“I did, you know,” you finally admitted, your body drooping as you exhaled into a slouch. 

Eddie’s head lifted slowly to look at you.

“Did what?”

“I did dress up for somebody here.”

Eddie visibly bristled, his shoulders shifting like the branches on the trees that rustled from the breeze off the lake blowing through them.

“Who?” he snaps.

And honestly? It makes you want to laugh. Because you truly can’t believe you have hitched your wagon to the most clueless boy in Indiana.

Eyes rolling towards the sky, you hooked a finger in the collar of his shirt and pulled his mouth onto yours. He let out a stunned noise that tapered off into a quiet hum of satisfaction.

Eddie was dazed when you pulled apart, his eyes still half-lidded, mouth gaping like a fish.

You shook your head and sighed, “You, you idiot.”

Thank you so much for visiting the spa, we hope your services were satisfactory 🌿

[spikycritter]

I want to give eddie the biggest hug in the world where do I apply to do so???? he deserves it :(

He really does deserve it🙂‍↕️ I think I've mentioned this before but he'd definitely lay his entire weight on you during a hug. Like gravity will fail him and he will leave you floundering to hold him up, he's soooooo needy.

Also, best friend!perv!Eddie 100% cops a bit of a feel when he can. I'm envisioning him putting in the work, moving his grip, subtly, with every hug you give him.

One week, he's safely kneading your lower back, pressing his finger tips into your strained muscles. The next week, he's resting lower, right above your ass. Just gently smoothing his thumbs over the fabric of your shirt until they 'accidentally' slip under. The second you squirm, he laughs it off with a warm, "Sorry, sweetheart," opting---with intense will power---to ignore the pitiful mewl that makes its way up your throat.

He's got the patience to move incrementally because he's not gonna screw this up with you. He wants you to wake up one day, craving his touch, unsure how you got there. It will happen, trust.

Eddie's an expert in the long game😈

[spikycritter]

dean dating a nerd/shy makes sense to me

like cocky a1 dean dating someone total opposite of him

JUMPING FOR JOYYYYYY YOU READ MY MIND! LETS GET INTO THIS ONE I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS

██████████████████████████

── .✦ ⌈ s1 ! dean x nerd / shy ! reader headcanons. ⌋

『 a continuation of my headcanons series. 』

‧˚₊⋅ ──── faith’s calling! GUYS THE SMUT IS COMING I PROMISE YOU but i couldn’t resist writing a little something for one of my fav pairings EVERRRR. was also thinking about finally doing chubby!reader too (because she is me)… lmk y’all

𖤐 ────────────────────────

> so it also makes perfect sense to me that dean would totally date a nerd—and it doesn’t matter if you’re actually a full-blown nerd or you literally only have a high school diploma, dean will still call you a nerd up and down regardless. it also doesn’t matter what type of nerd you are, either—dean loves it and you all the same.

> so my ‘first meeting’ if you will has GOT to be the classic: you helping him and sam out with a hunt. they need a lot of information, fast—and sam remembers your name from some xyz case decades ago, when you were still in high school, helping hunters out. he suggests to dean to go to the college/university you’re at currently to get your thoughts on the monster of the week.

dean cracks some joke about how sam’s gonna feel right at home when they get there, but he’s kind of already dreading being around smart know-it-alls, because they’re not going to a party or anything to get intel—strictly business, since your college is nowhere near where the case is.

> so dean and sam get to your college—and depending on your major, they either go to the library or a lab to find you. and dean’s grumbling the whole way—the high school dropout acting like he’s better than all the richie riches, but once he reluctantly steps in and sees you? oh, baby. it’s complete heart eyes. not because you’re attractive—but by god, you are—but because you’re so unbelievably normal. different than him in every sense—and shy? but you don’t necessarily act like a nerd—because the ones dean has encountered? they just make him feel stupid and he hates feeling like that. so ergo, he hated any nerd he came across automatically.

until now.

> because he’s tripping over his words—him! dean winchester! because of you, sitting there and explaining the lore to him in a way that actually makes sense and avoiding eye contact because you’re about to trip over your words too. how do you do that? and how is your hair so perfect? and why do you smell so good? and—?

sam kicks his brother’s leg under the table you’re all sitting at, giving him a pointed look—and it’s then that dean realizes you asked him a question, but he wasn’t paying any attention to what you’d been saying. he grins a little at you—and that grin might kill you if you’re not careful—before he answers the question. after you repeated it, of course.

> so, you get together, officially. some how, some way, it happens. you’d spent your breaks and summers with dean and sam until you graduated—and maybe you’d get a job, or maybe you wouldn’t, and just stay with them. it’s up to you. either way, dean’s so unbelievably supportive—of course he wants you all to himself 24/7, but he knows you’ll do what you want regardless.

> biggest thing you love about him? he lets you nerd out, guilt-free. you haven’t had an outlet besides your friends, so having dean there overwhelms you sometimes. you’ll think he’ll finally come to his senses and realize you’re not good enough. but it never happens. he just lets you be you. and it can be anything, anytime—lets you use the big words that he doesn’t understand until you re-explain, using an equal blend of movie references and hunter language—and he loves it. maybe even loves you, if he’s not careful.

and dean being dean, once he realizes, he’ll do the classic ‘you shouldn’t be around me, you’ll get hurt blah blah blah’ crap—and i can see this going two different ways.

> one: you listen to him—and go back to your normal life. you still have some other hunter friends that you talk to, but you don’t see dean again till later, probably around the first apocalypse (s5 or s6) when bobby calls you for help.

> two: you tell him to suck it, because you’re staying regardless. because bottom line? you might die being this close to dean—but when you think about it?

it’s kinda worth it.

───────────────────────── 𖤐

🏷️ :@bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @deansbeer @clitsout4clark @sunsbaby @deansposessive @sturnspup @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @aquamarineb1tch @soldiersgirl @bruisedfig @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlejoels @starzify @velvetparkerx @eggggggggggggggggggggsblog @floralscented @liiiilsss @angelblqde @vmiina @mahi-wayy @viarasvogue @tinas111 @0ccvltism @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @lunaleah @saintfaux @kimxwinchester @bettystonewell @honeyyxxbee @harlekin705 @megara0224 @ej13928 @pieandflannel @defnot-svnshine @fertilise-me

[spikycritter]

[spikycritter]

I can’t take my eyes off him.

[spikycritter]

oh my god i’m going to combust

[spikycritter]

Dean winchester NFSW alphabet .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 18+

Warnings : Smut, suggestive content, mentions of somnophilia (completely consensual), not proofread.

Dean winchester x female!reader

This is Kota speaking .ᐟ 🪽 : this has been sitting in my drafts for a HAWT minute, so I figured I'd give it to yall 😛

✧.* A = Aftercare (how good is their aftercare?)

• At first, Dean isn't the best at aftercare. He was used to one night stands and quick hookups. So aftercare was never something he found necessary or ever even did. But once he gets the rhythm of a real relationship? His aftercare is amazing. He always cuddles you right after, letting the both of you catch your breath, tell you how good you were, how pretty you looked before moving. But once he coaxed you out of bed, he always makes sure you pee (no UTIs on his watch), and runs you a hot bath while he changes the sheets.

• When it comes to being on the road, in motels, etc. He can't always give you grade A aftercare. But he tries, he'll clean you up with a damp towel. Kissing the tops of your knees, telling horrible jokes to keep you giggling, and cuddle you to sleep right after.

✧.* B = Body part (whats their favorite body part?)

• Dean loves his arms, not because of the way they looked necessarily, but because he knew you felt safe in them. He loved knowing that you felt warm and protected in his grasp. And he loved wrapping them around you when you were riding him.

• As for his favorite part of you? Dean loves your whole body. But if he had to choose, it'd be your hands. He loved how a simple touch from them could calm his nerves immediately. Loved how they felt running through his hair after a long hunt. Now, in a more suggestive sense? He loved your tits. Dean is a boob guy, one hundred percent. He loves how they look when you're bouncing on his cock, and how soft and plush they feel when he grabs a handful while pounding into you from above.

✧.* C = Cum (how do they feel about cum?)

• Dean is definitely a pull out and finish on your stomach type of guy. But he's also definitely one to ask, "Where do you want it, baby?" While fucking into you. He also loves coming inside when you let him. He loves burying him deep inside and filling you up, and he liked watching it drip out of your twitching, swollen cunt.

• He also really enjoys cumming on your tits ('cause of course he did). He loved watching it drip down the valley of your breasts, and how flushed you looked.

✧.* D = Dirty secret (whats their dirty secret?)

• Dean loves to be dominated, but he'd rather die than admit it out loud. He gets sooo turned on when you take initiative and tell him what to do.

• He also really wants to fuck you on the hood of the impala, the idea of you bare and splayed across her front like some trashy porn magazine gets him unbelievably hard.

✧.* E = Experience (how experienced are they?)

• Dean has countless hookups under his belt. He's been around the block a time or two, and he knows what he's doing. He prides himself in being an amazing lover. He knows how to make a girl feel good.

• He definitely cares more about your orgasm than his own, he'll always make you cum first.

✧.* F = Favorite position (whats their favorite position?)

• COWGIRL. Hands down, one of Dean's favorites, he loves watching you bounce and pant while you ride him. He loves to squeeze your thighs, your tits, waist, anything his hands could reach. Loves to watch his cock slide in and out of your pretty pussy when you lean back and brace your hands on his knees.

• He was also a sucker for missionary. He thought you just looked so pretty underneath him, your hair splayed across the pillows, jaw slack, lips glossy with spit, tits bouncing with each thrust. He wasn't opposed to doggy either. And he loved spooning when it came to morning sex. There was something so soft and intimate about it that he loved.

✧.* G = Goofy (how goofy are they during sex?)

• Dean can be a bit of both. In Dean's opinion sex was supposed to be fun, so he was usually pretty goofy during it, saying the dumbest shit that had you snorting despite him being buried deep enough inside of you to brush your cervix.

• But there were times when Dean took it seriously, like after a stressful hunt, when you two just needed to unwind and feel each other. He'd tell you how much he loves you, how lucky he was, how he was gonna make you feel so good.

✧.* H = Hair (how well groomed are they?)

• Dean definitely keeps himself as well groomed as he can, sometimes, with constantly being on the road and going place to place. He doesn't always have time to actually put effort into it, but he definitely keeps it neatly trimmed.

• He definitely has a little happy trail, though. Just a thin little patch of brown hair dusted over his lower stomach, enough to tease what was underneath. He also likes to keep a little stubble on his face as well, not a full beard by any means, just a little something that's noticeable.

• He wasn't really big on chest hair, though. It never really grew in general, but when it did. He'd get rid of it. But there was one time when he let himself go a little bit without shaving at all and looked like a sexy caveman.

✧.* I = Intimacy (how intimate are they?)

• Like I mentioned before, Dean can be pretty goofy and not take things that seriously during sex, but more often than not. This man is intimate. He'll take his time with you, feel all over your body with the type of reverence you only ever saw in church. He'll talk to you, kiss you, tell you how thankful he is to have you. He'll fuck like it's his first and last time, and hold you like you're some precious artifact afterwards.

• You've both cried a few times during it, though he'd never admit that he did. It was just the overwhelming aspect of it all, the love, the touch, how good it felt. How it felt to actually have someone see past his stupid front and see him for how he really was.

✧.* J = Jerk off (how often do they masturbate?)

• Dean is horny pretty much all the fuckin' time, so he does it often. But usually he goes to you when he wants to get off and you're happy to comply.

• But when he's off on a hunt without you? he'll jerk off in the bathroom like a horny teenager to the thought of you. The thought of your lips wrapped around his cock, the thought of you touching yourself in front of him. Then he's coming over his fist with a shaky little stutter of his breath. And snapping out of his horny fantasies to the sound of a knock at the bathroom door and Sam's muffled voice asking if he's done yet.

✧.* K = Kink (whats some of their kinks?)

• Dean definitely has a little praise kink that goes both ways. He loves being told he's doing good, that he feels good, etc. But he also loves to praise you, tell you how pretty you look while taking his cock, how good you sound, how good you feel.

• But he also has a little teensy breeding kink. Like I mentioned before, he enjoys cumming inside not only because he likes to watch it drip out like some perv. But because the thought of possibly having something domestic, something normal with you really gets him going. He'll say filthy shit like "Yeah, you want me to fuck a baby into this little pussy?" "You want me to knock you up?". But during all that, deep, deep down he hopes it's not just the high of it all, and you actually want it just as much as he does.

• He's also into a little somnophilia. You two talked about it one night and agreed that it was something the both of you could do, so he lovesss waking you up with head. And he loves it when he wakes up to your mouth wrapped around his cock.

✧.* L = Location (where do they like to do it?)

• Dean definitely prefers his bedroom in the bunker. It's quiet and private, and he can have you all to himself. But when you're away on hunts, staying in motels. He isn't opposed to the squeaky motel mattress or the backseat of the impala.

✧.* M = Motivation (what turns them on?)

• Pretty much everything about you turns him on. But if he'd have to choose what really got him going? It'd have to be when you're fresh out of the shower, wet hair, sleep shorts, old tshirt with no bra underneath so your nipples were barely poking at the fabric due to the rush of cold air.

• He also loves when you're sleepy, when it's early in the morning, and you're all groggy and grumpy, telling him it's "too early." While you pull the blankets over your head and snuggle further against his chest.

✧.* N = No (whats a limit for them?)

• Anything that involves seriously injuring you. He's all up for spanking and a little bit of playful tit slapping, and the occasional bite here and there, but anything that could possibly hurt you, that's an immediate no for him.

• And he's not that into dom/sub dynamics, either. Yeah, he'll dabble in it, just a teensy bit, but it's not his favorite thing in the world.

✧.* O = Oral (do they prefer giving or receiving?)

• Dean definitely prefers both, he loves eating your pussy. He could stay between your thighs for hours if you let him. And he's damn good at it, too.

• But he loves receiving just as much. He thinks you look so pretty on your knees in front of him. His hands fisted in your hair while you choke on his cock, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth and dripping down your chin. And he loves fucking your face, too. The pretty little gagging noises that fill the room just fuels him to keep going.

✧.* P = Pace (are they fast or slow?)

• It definitely depends on the mood, Dean definitely prefers slower, more sensual sex. But he can be rough when he wants to.

• He definitely loves being rough and faster when the two of you hadn't fuck in a little while, and both of you were pent up and needy.

✧.* Q = Quickie (how do they feel about quickies?)

• Dean definitely wants to be able to take his time with you. He doesn't wanna rush things. It's never done good for him. And he wants to make sure you're completely satisfied.

• But when both of you are absolutely needy and can't go without touching each other, you'll fuck in the motel bathroom, your chest pressed up against the dingy sink while he fucks you from behind. Hand snaking around your front to rub tight little circles on your clit until you come. And he'll come over your lower back with a deep grunt. And once you two clean up, you give each other a smug little peck on the lips and walk out like nothing happened.

✧.* R = Risk (are they down to experiment/take a risk?)

• Dean is down to try pretty much anything you want to try (only if it doesn't involve injuring you, like a mentioned before). He's definitely not opposed to you spicing up your sex life.

• The both of you have fucked in more bar bathrooms than you could count. Dark parking lots in the front seat of the impala. In the middle of the woods during hunts. So, needless to say. Dean is one hundred percent down to take a risk. As long as you're down, too.

✧.* S = Stamina (how long do they last in bed?)

• Dean can last a solid 3 rounds before he's tapped out. But if you want more? He'll suck it up and fuck you until his hips ache. He always wants to make sure his girl feels good.

• He'll take a good 6 minute break between rounds, but once he's rested? That man is up and ready.

✧.* T = Toy (are they okay with using toys?)

• Dean's definitely bought you a vibrator or two. And he definitely enjoys watching you use them on yourself, whether it's to get yourself off in front of him or rile yourself up before the main event.

• And he loves using them on you. He'd edge you with them all night if you'd let him. And you've used them on him before, running the blunt head of your little silicon toy up and down his shaft. And he'll tell you that was one of the best orgasms he's had.

✧.* U = Unfair (how much do they like to tease)

• Dean lovesss to tease you. He loves how squirmy you get, that frustrated little flush in your cheeks while you're telling him how bad you want him.

• But Dean? Oh, he hates being teased. He'll get so impatient and frustrated, his cock tenting in his jeans while you flash him that smug little smile that says I know exactly what I'm doing.

✧.* V = Volume (how vocal are they in bed?)

• Dean can definitely be loud when he wants to. When you're on top of him, he'll let out the prettiest moans and grunts. And when he's on top of you, he'll pant and moan in your ear like a well-paid pornstar. He wants you to know how good you feel. How tight your pussy's wrapped around his cock.

• When it comes to the both of you having to be quiet? He'll mouth at your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses to try and muffle his noises, letting out little shaky breaths that send shivers down your spine.

✧.* W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

• Dean thinks your voice is the sexiest thing on plant earth. The way you sound praising him, telling him how good he feels stretching you out. The pretty sounds you make. How your voice is a little hoarse afterward, soft and grounding.

• He loves to hear you talk. He could listen for hours if you let him.

✧.* X = X-ray (how big are they/what do they have going on down there?)

• Dean was a solid 7 and half inches, 8 if you really wanted to count it in. And a thick girth that stretched you out so perfectly. The tip a pretty pink that flushed a soft red when he was hard.

• It curved upward just slightly, the definition of a pretty cock.

✧.* Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

• As I mentioned before, Dean is horny almost 24/7, his sex drive is high, there's days where the two of you will fuck like rabbits for hours straight. And he'd still be horny afterwards.

• But there's also days where he may not want sex at all and just wants to hold you, feel you, and remember that you're real.

✧.* Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

• It depends on the type of sex, if it's slow, sensual, and intimate. Then he'll stay up and hold you. The two of you exchanging sleepy pillow talk before drifting off.

• Now, if it was more rough, fast fucking? He's out like a light. Tugging you into his chest and snoring softy into your hair. Like an oversized, sleepy guard dog.

This is Kota speaking .ᐟ 🪽 : I reallyyyyy enjoyed writing this! (ゝω・´★) ALSO gimme suggestions my writers block is kicking me in the ass right now and I'd literally write just about anything 💔

[spikycritter]

Dean winchester NFSW alphabet .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 18+

Warnings : Smut, suggestive content, mentions of somnophilia (completely consensual), not proofread.

Dean winchester x female!reader

This is Kota speaking .ᐟ 🪽 : this has been sitting in my drafts for a HAWT minute, so I figured I'd give it to yall 😛

✧.* A = Aftercare (how good is their aftercare?)

• At first, Dean isn't the best at aftercare. He was used to one night stands and quick hookups. So aftercare was never something he found necessary or ever even did. But once he gets the rhythm of a real relationship? His aftercare is amazing. He always cuddles you right after, letting the both of you catch your breath, tell you how good you were, how pretty you looked before moving. But once he coaxed you out of bed, he always makes sure you pee (no UTIs on his watch), and runs you a hot bath while he changes the sheets.

• When it comes to being on the road, in motels, etc. He can't always give you grade A aftercare. But he tries, he'll clean you up with a damp towel. Kissing the tops of your knees, telling horrible jokes to keep you giggling, and cuddle you to sleep right after.

✧.* B = Body part (whats their favorite body part?)

• Dean loves his arms, not because of the way they looked necessarily, but because he knew you felt safe in them. He loved knowing that you felt warm and protected in his grasp. And he loved wrapping them around you when you were riding him.

• As for his favorite part of you? Dean loves your whole body. But if he had to choose, it'd be your hands. He loved how a simple touch from them could calm his nerves immediately. Loved how they felt running through his hair after a long hunt. Now, in a more suggestive sense? He loved your tits. Dean is a boob guy, one hundred percent. He loves how they look when you're bouncing on his cock, and how soft and plush they feel when he grabs a handful while pounding into you from above.

✧.* C = Cum (how do they feel about cum?)

• Dean is definitely a pull out and finish on your stomach type of guy. But he's also definitely one to ask, "Where do you want it, baby?" While fucking into you. He also loves coming inside when you let him. He loves burying him deep inside and filling you up, and he liked watching it drip out of your twitching, swollen cunt.

• He also really enjoys cumming on your tits ('cause of course he did). He loved watching it drip down the valley of your breasts, and how flushed you looked.

✧.* D = Dirty secret (whats their dirty secret?)

• Dean loves to be dominated, but he'd rather die than admit it out loud. He gets sooo turned on when you take initiative and tell him what to do.

• He also really wants to fuck you on the hood of the impala, the idea of you bare and splayed across her front like some trashy porn magazine gets him unbelievably hard.

✧.* E = Experience (how experienced are they?)

• Dean has countless hookups under his belt. He's been around the block a time or two, and he knows what he's doing. He prides himself in being an amazing lover. He knows how to make a girl feel good.

• He definitely cares more about your orgasm than his own, he'll always make you cum first.

✧.* F = Favorite position (whats their favorite position?)

• COWGIRL. Hands down, one of Dean's favorites, he loves watching you bounce and pant while you ride him. He loves to squeeze your thighs, your tits, waist, anything his hands could reach. Loves to watch his cock slide in and out of your pretty pussy when you lean back and brace your hands on his knees.

• He was also a sucker for missionary. He thought you just looked so pretty underneath him, your hair splayed across the pillows, jaw slack, lips glossy with spit, tits bouncing with each thrust. He wasn't opposed to doggy either. And he loved spooning when it came to morning sex. There was something so soft and intimate about it that he loved.

✧.* G = Goofy (how goofy are they during sex?)

• Dean can be a bit of both. In Dean's opinion sex was supposed to be fun, so he was usually pretty goofy during it, saying the dumbest shit that had you snorting despite him being buried deep enough inside of you to brush your cervix.

• But there were times when Dean took it seriously, like after a stressful hunt, when you two just needed to unwind and feel each other. He'd tell you how much he loves you, how lucky he was, how he was gonna make you feel so good.

✧.* H = Hair (how well groomed are they?)

• Dean definitely keeps himself as well groomed as he can, sometimes, with constantly being on the road and going place to place. He doesn't always have time to actually put effort into it, but he definitely keeps it neatly trimmed.

• He definitely has a little happy trail, though. Just a thin little patch of brown hair dusted over his lower stomach, enough to tease what was underneath. He also likes to keep a little stubble on his face as well, not a full beard by any means, just a little something that's noticeable.

• He wasn't really big on chest hair, though. It never really grew in general, but when it did. He'd get rid of it. But there was one time when he let himself go a little bit without shaving at all and looked like a sexy caveman.

✧.* I = Intimacy (how intimate are they?)

• Like I mentioned before, Dean can be pretty goofy and not take things that seriously during sex, but more often than not. This man is intimate. He'll take his time with you, feel all over your body with the type of reverence you only ever saw in church. He'll talk to you, kiss you, tell you how thankful he is to have you. He'll fuck like it's his first and last time, and hold you like you're some precious artifact afterwards.

• You've both cried a few times during it, though he'd never admit that he did. It was just the overwhelming aspect of it all, the love, the touch, how good it felt. How it felt to actually have someone see past his stupid front and see him for how he really was.

✧.* J = Jerk off (how often do they masturbate?)

• Dean is horny pretty much all the fuckin' time, so he does it often. But usually he goes to you when he wants to get off and you're happy to comply.

• But when he's off on a hunt without you? he'll jerk off in the bathroom like a horny teenager to the thought of you. The thought of your lips wrapped around his cock, the thought of you touching yourself in front of him. Then he's coming over his fist with a shaky little stutter of his breath. And snapping out of his horny fantasies to the sound of a knock at the bathroom door and Sam's muffled voice asking if he's done yet.

✧.* K = Kink (whats some of their kinks?)

• Dean definitely has a little praise kink that goes both ways. He loves being told he's doing good, that he feels good, etc. But he also loves to praise you, tell you how pretty you look while taking his cock, how good you sound, how good you feel.

• But he also has a little teensy breeding kink. Like I mentioned before, he enjoys cumming inside not only because he likes to watch it drip out like some perv. But because the thought of possibly having something domestic, something normal with you really gets him going. He'll say filthy shit like "Yeah, you want me to fuck a baby into this little pussy?" "You want me to knock you up?". But during all that, deep, deep down he hopes it's not just the high of it all, and you actually want it just as much as he does.

• He's also into a little somnophilia. You two talked about it one night and agreed that it was something the both of you could do, so he lovesss waking you up with head. And he loves it when he wakes up to your mouth wrapped around his cock.

✧.* L = Location (where do they like to do it?)

• Dean definitely prefers his bedroom in the bunker. It's quiet and private, and he can have you all to himself. But when you're away on hunts, staying in motels. He isn't opposed to the squeaky motel mattress or the backseat of the impala.

✧.* M = Motivation (what turns them on?)

• Pretty much everything about you turns him on. But if he'd have to choose what really got him going? It'd have to be when you're fresh out of the shower, wet hair, sleep shorts, old tshirt with no bra underneath so your nipples were barely poking at the fabric due to the rush of cold air.

• He also loves when you're sleepy, when it's early in the morning, and you're all groggy and grumpy, telling him it's "too early." While you pull the blankets over your head and snuggle further against his chest.

✧.* N = No (whats a limit for them?)

• Anything that involves seriously injuring you. He's all up for spanking and a little bit of playful tit slapping, and the occasional bite here and there, but anything that could possibly hurt you, that's an immediate no for him.

• And he's not that into dom/sub dynamics, either. Yeah, he'll dabble in it, just a teensy bit, but it's not his favorite thing in the world.

✧.* O = Oral (do they prefer giving or receiving?)

• Dean definitely prefers both, he loves eating your pussy. He could stay between your thighs for hours if you let him. And he's damn good at it, too.

• But he loves receiving just as much. He thinks you look so pretty on your knees in front of him. His hands fisted in your hair while you choke on his cock, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth and dripping down your chin. And he loves fucking your face, too. The pretty little gagging noises that fill the room just fuels him to keep going.

✧.* P = Pace (are they fast or slow?)

• It definitely depends on the mood, Dean definitely prefers slower, more sensual sex. But he can be rough when he wants to.

• He definitely loves being rough and faster when the two of you hadn't fuck in a little while, and both of you were pent up and needy.

✧.* Q = Quickie (how do they feel about quickies?)

• Dean definitely wants to be able to take his time with you. He doesn't wanna rush things. It's never done good for him. And he wants to make sure you're completely satisfied.

• But when both of you are absolutely needy and can't go without touching each other, you'll fuck in the motel bathroom, your chest pressed up against the dingy sink while he fucks you from behind. Hand snaking around your front to rub tight little circles on your clit until you come. And he'll come over your lower back with a deep grunt. And once you two clean up, you give each other a smug little peck on the lips and walk out like nothing happened.

✧.* R = Risk (are they down to experiment/take a risk?)

• Dean is down to try pretty much anything you want to try (only if it doesn't involve injuring you, like a mentioned before). He's definitely not opposed to you spicing up your sex life.

• The both of you have fucked in more bar bathrooms than you could count. Dark parking lots in the front seat of the impala. In the middle of the woods during hunts. So, needless to say. Dean is one hundred percent down to take a risk. As long as you're down, too.

✧.* S = Stamina (how long do they last in bed?)

• Dean can last a solid 3 rounds before he's tapped out. But if you want more? He'll suck it up and fuck you until his hips ache. He always wants to make sure his girl feels good.

• He'll take a good 6 minute break between rounds, but once he's rested? That man is up and ready.

✧.* T = Toy (are they okay with using toys?)

• Dean's definitely bought you a vibrator or two. And he definitely enjoys watching you use them on yourself, whether it's to get yourself off in front of him or rile yourself up before the main event.

• And he loves using them on you. He'd edge you with them all night if you'd let him. And you've used them on him before, running the blunt head of your little silicon toy up and down his shaft. And he'll tell you that was one of the best orgasms he's had.

✧.* U = Unfair (how much do they like to tease)

• Dean lovesss to tease you. He loves how squirmy you get, that frustrated little flush in your cheeks while you're telling him how bad you want him.

• But Dean? Oh, he hates being teased. He'll get so impatient and frustrated, his cock tenting in his jeans while you flash him that smug little smile that says I know exactly what I'm doing.

✧.* V = Volume (how vocal are they in bed?)

• Dean can definitely be loud when he wants to. When you're on top of him, he'll let out the prettiest moans and grunts. And when he's on top of you, he'll pant and moan in your ear like a well-paid pornstar. He wants you to know how good you feel. How tight your pussy's wrapped around his cock.

• When it comes to the both of you having to be quiet? He'll mouth at your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses to try and muffle his noises, letting out little shaky breaths that send shivers down your spine.

✧.* W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

• Dean thinks your voice is the sexiest thing on plant earth. The way you sound praising him, telling him how good he feels stretching you out. The pretty sounds you make. How your voice is a little hoarse afterward, soft and grounding.

• He loves to hear you talk. He could listen for hours if you let him.

✧.* X = X-ray (how big are they/what do they have going on down there?)

• Dean was a solid 7 and half inches, 8 if you really wanted to count it in. And a thick girth that stretched you out so perfectly. The tip a pretty pink that flushed a soft red when he was hard.

• It curved upward just slightly, the definition of a pretty cock.

✧.* Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

• As I mentioned before, Dean is horny almost 24/7, his sex drive is high, there's days where the two of you will fuck like rabbits for hours straight. And he'd still be horny afterwards.

• But there's also days where he may not want sex at all and just wants to hold you, feel you, and remember that you're real.

✧.* Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

• It depends on the type of sex, if it's slow, sensual, and intimate. Then he'll stay up and hold you. The two of you exchanging sleepy pillow talk before drifting off.

• Now, if it was more rough, fast fucking? He's out like a light. Tugging you into his chest and snoring softy into your hair. Like an oversized, sleepy guard dog.

This is Kota speaking .ᐟ 🪽 : I reallyyyyy enjoyed writing this! (ゝω・´★) ALSO gimme suggestions my writers block is kicking me in the ass right now and I'd literally write just about anything 💔

[spikycritter]

A daughter.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader.

Summary: It's been six years since Dean and Sam worked a case in Toledo Ohio. Six years since Dean met you, saved you from a curse, and spend three nights with you. Now they were back in Toledo for a case with a little surprise waiting for Dean, with bright green eyes and a cute little smile.

You sat in your small town diner, eating pancakes. Every Saturday morning, you sat in the same booth, eating the same chocolate pancakes. It was a ritual you and your little girl followed strictly each week. You never missed a Saturday.

Lily sat opposite you, a little bit of chocolate on one corner of her mouth and a little bit of cream on the other corner of her mouth.

"Pancakes good?" You asked her with a small smile and she nodded enthusiastically, shoving a fork full of pancake into her mouth. "Smaller bites, baby." You urged.

"I'm hungry." She told you, voice slightly muffled by the food in her mouth.

"You had cereal when you woke up." You reminded her as you quirked an eyebrow.

She pouted. "I know." She mumbled softly, shoving another mouthful of food into her mouth and you couldn't help but laugh softly. After she swallowed her food, she shifted uncomfortably. "Mommy I have to pee."

"Need me to come with you?" You asked her softly as you raised your eyebrows.

"No. I'm okay." She said as she slid out of the booth. "Don't eat my pancakes." She warned you with a pouty lip.

"I won't." You assured her as you shook your head, a small grin tugging at your lips. You looked over your shoulder, watching her go safely into the bathroom.

Carol, the waitress, came over with a pot of coffee. "Refill hun?" The older woman asked with a small smile.

You looked at her, nodding as you offered her a smile. "Please, Carol." You confirmed.

"How's Lily doing with school?" She asked you curiously as she refilled your cup. She knew it was Lily's first year of school and she was always caring when it came to you and the little girl.

"She's doing so good. And she's making new friends everyday." You replied with a proud smile. "I'll bring over some of the drawings she's made in class."

"Oh that would be lovely, hun." She said as she patted your shoulder before turning away when the bell above the door rang.

Your attention turned to your coffe, taking a few sips as you looked out at the window, watching the cars that drove past.

"Agent Page and Plant, with the FBI." A deep gruff voice spoke from the counter.

You tensed. You recognized that voice and you recognized those names. Your gaze flicked around the window, landing on the black Chevrolet Impala parked on the side of the road. As spotless and beautiful as you remember it.

Your gaze shifted to the counter where Carol spoke with the two familiar men. They were a little older and more gruff, looking more weary and Sam's hair had gotten longer.

You swallowed hard, sinking back into your seat, trying your best to blend in and hope they wouldn't notice you. Your throat ached as a lump formed and your eyes burned with unshed tears.

When the two men finished talking to Carol, they turned around to grab a booth. Both somewhat froze for a moment when they saw you sitting there, sunk down in your seat with your face slightly turned away.

"Y/n?" Dean called out, his eyebrows furrowing as he hesitantly stepped closer to your booth. You didn't turn your head, pretending not to have heard him at first. "Is that you?"

You turned your head, raising your eyebrows in feigned surprise. "Dean?" You questioned as your lips parted. "Sam?"

"Hey." Sam greeted with a small smile. "It's been...it's been a while."

"Yeah...little over six years now." You mumbled softly with a nod of your head. You slid out of the booth and stood up, facing the two men. "So, what brings you back here?" You asked as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Oh you know, the usual. Dead bodies." Dean replied, giving you a slow once over. "You look good." He commented as a small smile tugged at his lips.

"Yeah, you too." You replied softly as you returned his smile, wrapping your arms over your chest. "So is your case anything I should be worried about?" You asked, desperately wanting to change the subject.

"Nah, unless you have a kid." Sam replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Your gaze shot towards him as your eyes widened. "W-what?" You asked as your heart clenched painfully in your chest. "Why do you say that?"

"Well we're not sure what we're dealing with, but it targets kids. Drowns them." Dean explained.

You swallowed hard, your gaze diverting towards the bathrooms for a brief moment. The two brothers shared a concerned look between one another when they saw your expression.

Lily came bouncing out of the bathroom, her brown hair tied into pigtails, swinging around. "Mommy." She called out as she came to a stop beside you, her green eyes flicking towards the two brothers. "Who are you?" She asked them.

"Sweetheart, these are some old friends of mommy's." You explained as you gently placed your hand against the back of her head.

"Mommy?" Dean repeated as he looked from Lily towards you, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Yeah..." You replied softly as you hesitantly met Dean's gaze, your lips pursing while you ushered Lily back into her seat.

"So ummm...I guess you do have something to worry about." Sam commented softly as he looked at you with concern in his eyes.

Dean didn't react to what Sam said. His eyes were drawn to Lily. He silently stared at the little girl, silently observing her familiar features. It left an ache in his chest.

"How old is she?" Dean questioned as he pointed in Lily's direction, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You looked at Dean for a moment before turning to Sam. "Is this thing going to come after my daughter?" you questioned him and Dean scowled as you ignored his question.

"We can't be sure for certain. It doesn't really follow a pattern. Just snatches any kid they can." Sam explained, sending a wary glance between you and Dean.

You pulled a few dollars out of your pocket and placed it on the table. "Lily, we have to get going." you urged your daughter.

"But my pancakes." She whined as you took her hand and pulled her out of the booth.

"We'll get some more another day." You assured as you dragged her out of the diner, sending a half-hearted wave at Carol behind the counter.

Two heavy sets of footsteps followed after you, one faster than the other. "Why won't you answer me?" Dean called out, hot on your tail as he followed you to the parking lot.

You spun to face him. "I'm not having this conversation in front of my daughter." You snapped at him through gritted teeth as you gave him a firm shake of your head.

"Y/n, maybe we should take you two somewhere we can keep you safe. In case something does happen." Sam suggested, his tone far more gentle and softer than his brother's.

You agreed, reluctantly. But if a few awkward and uncomfortable hours with Dean meant your daughter was safe, then you'd simply have to put on your brave face and follow along.

Lily sat on one of the twin beds in Sam and Dean's motel room. She was perched on the edge, her eyes drawn to the cartoons displayed on the small tv in front of her.

You stood by the window, staring out. Sam had left to gather information, to hopefully catch a lead on what was targeting kids in the town.

Your stomach was knotted. You had heard about the kids drowning, it had been in the paper. But never had you imagined it would be something that needed attention from the Winchester brother's.

Dean entered the motel room with a brown paper bag. "Got some food." he called out as he closed the door behind him.

Lily jumped up from the bed and practically stormed towards Dean. "Did you remember my nuggets?" She asked as she took the bag from him.

"Yes, you did remind me." Dean clarified as he let her take the bag.

"Thank you." She said with a sweet smile as she stared up at him.

"You're welcome kid." Dean replied, returning her soft smile as he stared down at her. His brows furrowed a little as he watched her return to the bed with the bag of food. He stared a moment longer before looking at you. "Cute kid."

"Yeah. I got lucky with her, she's really amazing. No tantrums, always happy to help." You commented softly, sending your daughter a gentle smile over your shoulder.

"You never answered my question...about how old she is." Dean commented as his gaze remained on you.

You sighed softly as you lowered your gaze. "She's six, Dean." You whispered as you ran a hand over your mouth.

He slowly nodded his head to the truth he already knew. "Is she mine?" he asked softly as his eyes grew glossy and reddish.

You remained silently frozen for a moment before hesitantly looking at Dean. "Yes..." You whispered as you slowly nodded your head. "I tried reaching out to you but your number didn't work anymore."

"I had to ditch it." he whispered as he lowered his head. "If I had known..."

"I stopped trying eventually, figured maybe you didn't want to know." You mumbled softly as you sniffed. "I was so angry for so long. I hated you."

"Good. You should." He agreed with a nod of his head. "What...what have you told her about me?" he asked hesitantly, for a moment expecting to hear the absolute worse. And he'd deserve it.

"That you're a hero who saves people. And people far away needs you, that's why you're not around." You explained softly as you wrapped your arms around yourself. "She's been really curious about you."

"I can't be in her life. I'm dangerous to be around, you know that." Dean whispered as he diverted his teary gaze.

"Mommy, why do we have to stay here?" Lily asked from the edge of the bed as she looked over at you with a frown on her little face.

You turned away from Dean and looked over at your little girl. "Well there's something... dangerous outside and well the nice men are making sure we're safe." You explained gently as you offered her a smile.

"Are we going to get hurt?" She asked softly as her frown grew.

"No baby. We're going to be perfectly fine." You assured as you sat down beside her. "These nice men are going to take good care of us." You whispered as you placed a gentle hand on her head.

"Hey, I won't let anything happen to you or your mom." Dean assured her as he hesitantly approached.

Lily looked up towards you. "Is he a hero like my daddy?" She asked softly as she raised her eyebrows.

You silently stared at her for a moment before slowly nodding your head. "Yeah..." You whispered.

Lily looked at Dean. "My mommy says my daddy saves people." She informed him with a little proud smile spreading across her lips. "He even saved her once."

Dean slowly nodded, a stray tear running down his cheek. "Your daddy sounds...like a good man." he commented softly. His phone rang and he was thankful for the distraction as he turned around to answer it. "Sam?" He answered. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Yeah okay." he replied before ending the call.

"Seems like we're dealing with a spirit." Dean replied with a soft sigh as he ran a hand over his face. "La llorona, to be specific." he clarified.

You kissed the top of Lily's head before standing up and approaching Dean. "Does he have something?" You asked softly as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"She's not just a myth?" You asked as your eyebrows furrowed.

"No." Dean replied with a shake of his head. He went over to one of his bags and pulled out a large bottle of salt, pouring lines in front of the door and windows. "This isn't exactly the La llorona. Just a vengeful spirit who drowned her children when she was still alive."

"What's that?" Lily asked curiously as she watched Dean with raised eyebrows, nibbling on a nugget.

Dean slowly turned to face her, pausing for a moment. He didn't think she'd question his stranger behaviour. "Oh, ummm. Salt." He replied as he slowly nodded his head.

"Why?" Lily asked as her head tilted to the side a bit. Before Dean could respond, Lily glanced at you. "Is he a weirdo?" She asked as she raised her eyebrows.

"Just a little bit." You replied teasingly as you held up your thumb and pointer finger to emphasis little.

"Hey." Dean complained as he looked at you with a scowl. Lily giggled softly and Dean's scowl turned to her.

That night you were sound asleep with Lily cuddled up beside you. Sam was out trying to pin point who the La llorona spirit was and where she was buried. Dean was sitting in the motel room, scrolling through Sam's computer as he tried to find something to help while also keeping an eye on you and Lily.

After a few hours of staring at the bright screen in the dark room and drinking beer, he needed a break. With a soft groan Dean ran a hand over his face before getting up and stumbling his way into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

There was a soft, barely audible creak in the room as one of the windows pushed open. Lily's eyes fluttered open, her brows furrowing as she looked to the noisy window.

When she saw the tall, pale woman with long black hair standing by the window, crying softly, she sat up. "What's wrong?" Lily whispered.

The woman didn't respond, but Lily seemed to understand what she wanted. The little girl climbed out of the bed, standing by the edge. She glanced at you, a little pout tugging at her face.

She looked back at the woman. "I want to stay with my mommy." She told the woman, tears pricking at her eyes. "No, don't be sad." She begged as the woman began crying harder.

She send a hesitant glance back at you, letting out a soft whimper before walking over to the door, opening it. As a result, the salt line was broken and the woman reached into the room, grabbing Lily's arm.

"Mommy!" Lily cried out as the woman dragged her out of the room.

Your eyes shot open and you immediately sat up. "Lily!" You screamed in horror when you saw the pale woman taking your daughter from the room.

The bathroom door slammed open and Dean rushed out, holding his gun ready to fire. "What happened?" He asked as his eyes franticly shot around the room.

"She has Lily! She has our daughter!" You cried frantically as you ran out of the motel room.

The Impala pulled into the parking lot and Sam climbed out just as you and Dean rushed out of the motel room. "What happened?" Sam yelled as he rushed over.

"That bitch took Lily!" Dean yelled as he looked around the parking lot for any sign of the little girl. His little girl. He'd be dammed if he let anything happen to her before he could even get to know her. "Did you find anything?"

"I think I know where she's buried." Sam replied with a nod of his head. He looked towards you. "Where's the nearest body of water?"

"There's a lake less than a mile from here." You told them, tears running down you cheeks.

"Go burn the bitch." Dean instructed Sam while grabbing a shotgun from the trunk of the Impala before urging you to lead the way to the lake.

When you and Dean arrived at the lake, the pale woman stood ankle deep in the water, holding tightly onto Lily's hand, urging her deeper into the water. The little girl was crying and struggling against the woman.

"Lily!" You cried out as you ran towards your little girl, but Dean grabbed your arm and urged you to stay back.

He got closer to the water, while raising the shotgun and firing salt rocks at the woman. She disappeared with a screeching sound that filled the air. He bend down, holding an arm out towards Lily. "Come on Sweetheart. Come on." he urged.

Lily ran to Dean and he scooped her into his arm, holding her on his waist as he rushed back towards you. You reached for you daughter but before you could take her, you were knocked back by an invisible force, grunting as you hit the ground, the air knocked out of your lungs.

Dean turned, pointing the shotgun one handed at the woman as she appeared before him but she knocked it out of his hands before grabbing for Lily.

"I don't think so." He grunted as he grabbed the iron chain around his neck and yanked it off before hitting the woman with it and she disappeared again.

He grabbed his shotgun and rushed towards you as you sat up. He pushed Lily and his iron chain towards you. "Run." he ordered.

"Dean!" You yelled when the woman appeared behind Dean and without touching him, she send him flying to the side where he slammed hard into the ground.

You grabbed Lily, pulling her protectively against your body as the woman stomped closer to you. "Mommy." Lily whimpered as she buried her face into your chest.

You flinched when the woman screeched, her entire body catching on fire. You placed a hand over Lily's eyes so that she wouldn't see what was happening. You let out a soft whimper as the woman disappeared in a pile of ashes.

Dean got up, shaking his head to get rid of the ringing in his ears. He rushed to you and Lily, kneeling beside you. "You okay?" He asked as he brushed you messy hair out of your face before turning to the little girl in you arms.

You nodded you head as you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. Lily sniffed as she lifted her head. "Is it over?" She asked softly as she looked around.

"Yeah. It's over kid." He assured softly as he reached out to gently and awkwardly pat her head. "It's all over now."

Lily pulled away from you and wrapped her arms around Dean's broad shoulders, laying her head against his chest. "You're a hero just like my daddy." She told him.

Dean hesitated for a moment before wrapped his arms around Lily, hugging her small body tightly as he closer his chest, his eyes growing teary.

When the three of you made your way back to the motel room, Dean carried the tired little girl as she dozed off in his arms.

"So what happens now?" You asked softly as you looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"I thought I would be able to walk away after all this was over. But I don't think I can." Dean admitted softly as he shook his head.

"You don't have to." You reasoned softly as you looked up at him.

"You'll both be in danger with me, Y/N." He reasoned as he looked down at you.

"I've been cursed before and she was targeted by a vengeful spirit. Neither had anything to do with you but you were the one who saved us." You replied as you approached the motel room.

You pulled open the door and Dean carefully walked in, laying the sleeping girl down on the bed. You sat down by the table and Dean joined you a moment later.

"It's all up to you." You assured him softly. "You get to decide what happens next."

Dean thought for a moment before clearing his throat. His need to keep you and Lily close and safe, was far bigger than his need to keep you and Lily safe and far away.

"Maybe I could visit sometimes." he suggested as she scratched the back of his neck. "Me and Sammy, we live kinda far now. Kansas actually."

You shifted. Thirteen hours away, give or take. "I don't have much keeping me here..." You mumbled softly, hesitantly looking at him. "We could move closer."

"You'd do that for me?" Dean asked as his eyebrows furrowed.

"I'd do it for her." You clarified as you glanced back at your little girl. You looked back at him, noting the way he was silently staring at Lily. "Do you want to officially meet her? As her dad?"

He stared at her a little while longer, his eyes growing teary and red again as he slowly nodded his head. "Yeah. I'd like that." He agreed softly.

The following morning, you took Lily to the diner to make up for the missing pancakes the previous day. Dean joined the two of you.

You and Dean sat on one side of the booth and Lily sat on the other side. In that moment, as both of them stuffed themselves with chocolate chip pancakes, arguing about the syrup that was on the table, you had absolutely no doubt Lily was Dean's kid.

"Don't take all of it." Dean complained as Lily poured more syrup on her pancakes.

"You've already had some." Lily complained back as she pouted at Dean.

You pursed your lips as you looked between the two of them. You shifted in your seat and cleared you throat. "Baby, we want to talk to you about something." you began and Dean quickly lost his appetite due to nerves.

"About what?" Lily asked curiously as she raised her eyebrows.

"Well baby, I told you, your daddy's not around because he's a hero who helps a lot of people." I told her softly. "He saves them from very bad things." You added as you crossed your arms on top of the table. You hesitated for a moment, not really sure how to approach this with Lily. "Well baby, Dean is your dad."

Lily looked at Dean. "You're my daddy?" She asked softly as her eyebrows furrowed.

He slowly nodded his head. "Y-yeah." He stuttered, clearing his throat before trying again. "Yeah. I am." he confirmed softly.

Her eyes widened. "My daddy fights ghosts?" She gasped as stared at Dean with surprise and child like excitement in her eyes.

"Among other-" Dean began, a proud smirk tugging at his lips as he began nodded his head.

"Don't elaborate." You stopped him as you reached out and placed a hand on his arm. You didn't want him telling Lily about demons and vampires and monsters bursting out of the closet.

"Right." Dean agreed as he cleared his throat. He looked back at Lily. "Yeah, I fights ghosts. They're pretty scared of me and my brother." He informed her. "You know what that means?"

"What?" Lily asked softly as she leaned closer like she was about to hear a state secret.

"It means no ghost will ever mess with your or your mom ever again." He assured her softly.

Lily giggled excitedly as she looked over at you, her smile growing. You returned her smile as you rested your chin on you hand. Lily turned to Dean, her little brain working over time to figure out what she wanted to ask him first.

"Are you going to stay?" She asked Dean as she sat up on her knees.

"I'm going to be around a lot more." He assured her as he nodded his head. "But me and your uncle Sam, we still have to save some people from time to time."

"I have an uncle!" Lily squealed softly in excitement as a grin spread across her lips and she looked back at you again. Your smile grew as your little girl got so happy and excited.

After breakfast, you Dean and Lily went for a walk through the park. Lily held her dad's hand, licking the vanilla ice cream he had bought for her. He told her a few child friendly version stories of the people he and Sam had saved.

Sam arrived with the Impala, hands shoved in his jacket pockets as he approached the three of you with a small smile. Lily let go of Dean's hand and approached Sam, her head tilted back as she looked up at him. "You're my uncle." She informed him.

Sam chuckled softly, bending down to be more eye level with the little girl. "Yeah I am." he confirmed.

She attacked him with a hug, some ice cream smearing across his shoulder. He hugged her back, placing a gentle large hand against the back of her head.

When Lily pulled back, she grabbed Dean's hand, tugging him along. "Come push me." She urged as she dragged him towards the swings and he smiled softly as he followed her.

You crossed your arms over your chest, watching Dean push Lily's on the swing, a small smile crossing your lips.

[spikycritter]

I Won’t Tell ‘Em Your Name

Summary: After a failed attempt on her life by her husband, the reader is forced into witness protection and a new home where she meets her new neighbor, Dean Winchester, who may be exactly what she needs…

Pairing: Neighbor!Dean x reader

Word Count: 7,200ish

Warnings: language, lil bit of violence, mention of injury

Keep reading

[spikycritter]

hey… it’s me again 😘😘

can i please kindly request a fic based on the song making out by no doubt? either sam or dean. or both. ideally like s1-3 sam and dean as well, bc i think it just suits them so much

thank u beautiful!!

𐙚˙⋆.˚ making out,

pairing. sam + dean winchester x reader ( gn )

wordcount. 629 genre. h o t

warnings. explicit sexual content, threesome, dirty talk, kissing, teasing, a little bit of possessiveness, reader missing them while they’re away, reunion sex

It’s been twenty-two days.

Not that you’re keeping track or anything.

Okay—you’re absolutely keeping track. Your kitchen calendar has a tiny heart drawn around today’s date. You’ve been circling it for weeks, flipping through the pages like a teenager before prom. Sam’s handwriting is still scrawled in blue ink in the corner: back around 10. Dean’s contribution, in thick Sharpie, is just: be naked.

You sip your tea on the counter, trying to pretend you’re not vibrating out of your skin. It’s pathetic, how much you’ve missed them—how much you’ve missed the weight of Dean’s smirk pressed to your mouth, Sam’s warm hands sliding under your shirt, the way they both crowd you like they’re trying to erase every second they weren’t here.

The Impala’s engine purrs into the driveway before you hear the tires on the gravel. Your heart leaps into your throat.

You’re at the door before they can even knock, throwing it open to find them both standing there—dusty, rumpled, exhausted…and so, so gorgeous. Dean grins like he knew you’d be waiting. Sam’s eyes flick down your body like he’s already undressing you.

“Well, damn,” Dean says, stepping inside. “Guess you got my note.”

You don’t even get a word out before Sam’s mouth is on yours—deep, slow, like he’s trying to make up for every single mile between you. Dean’s right there behind him, his palm sliding up your thigh, his lips brushing the side of your neck until you can barely breathe.

“Missed you,” you gasp, and Sam hums against your mouth.

“Missed you more,” Dean murmurs, hot breath against your skin. “Been counting down the days, sweetheart. And now…” his hand squeezes your hip, “I’m not wasting another second.”

It turns into a blur—Sam pushing you back toward the couch, Dean catching your wrist and pulling you into his chest so he can kiss you, slow and filthy, tasting like whiskey and heat. Sam’s hands are already under your shirt, mapping out every inch of you like he’s committing it to memory.

Clothes go fast. Too fast to track. Dean drops to his knees first, his grin wicked as his hands slide up your thighs. “God, I missed this view.” He presses a kiss just above your knee, then higher, and higher—meanwhile, Sam’s behind you on the couch, lips brushing your ear, his big hands holding you open for his brother.

It’s overwhelming, the way they work together—Dean coaxing moans from you with his tongue while Sam keeps you anchored, murmuring low praises that curl into your spine.

“Still taste so good,” Dean says between kisses. “Could live on you.”

“Dean,” Sam warns, but there’s no heat in it. His voice is thick with want, his hips pressing into your back.

The rest is a haze of gasps, soft laughter, and the kind of heat that leaves you dizzy. Sam’s mouth replaces Dean’s, his tongue deep inside you, while Dean kisses you like he’s starving, his hand wrapped around your jaw. When they finally pull you into their laps—Dean seated first, Sam behind—you lose track of who’s touching where.

Dean rocks you against him, hands gripping your ass, his forehead resting against yours. Sam’s arm is locked around your waist, pulling you back into his chest, his mouth at your neck, whispering how long he’s been thinking about you, what he’s going to do when Dean’s done.

Every kiss feels desperate, every touch laced with weeks of pent-up hunger.

By the time you’re sprawled between them, panting and dazed, you’re sure you’ll never get enough. Dean’s thumb brushes over your lips, his smirk softening just a little.

“Worth the wait?” he asks.

You smile—wrecked, breathless. “Always.”

And then Sam’s kissing you again, like he’s already counting down to the next time they leave.

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[spikycritter]

In front of the fireplace on the floor smut with early szn Sam Winchester❤️‍🔥

Something passionate yet tender. Lots of intimacy and gentle touches with soft praises (from both parties). Just pure sweet nothings🥺

⋆.𐙚 ̊ embers on skin,

pairing. sam winchester x reader ( gn )

wordcount. 593 genre. extra soft smut

warnings. soft & tender intimacy, passionate kissing, gentle touches, soft praise, established relationship, protected sex

The fire crackles low, painting the room in warm amber, and you can feel the heat radiating against your skin—not just from the flames, but from Sam.

You’re both on the floor, tangled together on a blanket in front of the hearth, his long legs folding around you as if they were made to fit that way. His hands are slow, patient, sliding up your sides like he’s committing the lines of your body to memory.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against your mouth, breath warm, voice low and reverent. It’s not a line—never is with him—it’s a confession, the way his eyes soften when they meet yours in the firelight.

Your lips meet again, unhurried. There’s no rush tonight. Just the two of you, the crackle of the logs, the faint pop of sap bursting in the heat.

Sam’s palm comes up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin in a way that makes your chest ache. “I love you,” he says softly, like the words are made of glass, like they’re something sacred.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He kisses you again, deeper this time, a slow press that tilts into something hungry when your hips shift against him. You can feel the way he exhales sharply, the low groan in his chest as he cups your jaw and leans into you.

When his mouth moves to your throat, it’s slow, almost worshipful—pressing kisses along your pulse, teeth barely grazing your skin before soothing the spot with his tongue.

Your hands slide under his flannel, tracing the hard lines of muscle and the warmth of his skin. He shivers at the touch, smiling against your neck. “God, you’re perfect.”

You both shed layers in the dim light, the fire casting gold over every inch of bare skin revealed. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your hips, the curve of your back—like he can’t bear to not be touching you.

When he finally settles between your thighs, he pauses, his forehead resting against yours. “You okay?”

You nod, smiling. “More than okay.”

The first push is slow, deliberate, and you both gasp softly at the contact, your bodies instinctively molding together. He kisses you through it, lips moving against yours in tender, open-mouthed presses.

“God, you feel amazing,” he breathes, his voice breaking on the words.

Your hands roam his back, pulling him closer, urging him on. His pace stays unhurried, each movement a mix of restraint and devotion, like he wants to make this last all night.

“You’re everything to me,” you murmur, and he groans softly, kissing you like your words undo him completely.

The fire pops again, and the heat between you is almost overwhelming—skin to skin, breath mingling, soft gasps filling the quiet room.

His thumb strokes over your cheek again, even as his hips move in a slow, steady rhythm. “I could stay like this forever,” he whispers.

You kiss him until neither of you can tell where one ends and the other begins, until the warmth of the fire is nothing compared to the heat curling low in your stomach.

When you both finally fall over the edge, it’s together—clinging, breathless, mouths finding each other in the aftershocks.

Sam stays pressed against you, his hand cradling your face as if you might disappear if he lets go. “You’re my home,” he says quietly, and you know he means it.

The fire burns low, but in his arms, you’re warmer than you’ve ever been.

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[spikycritter]

─── ( mlist, nsfw ! ) DEAN WINCHESTER has made it his mission to record every single time he fucks you. and he’s completely dedicated to it.

one night, he’s got your bent over the hood of the impala in the middle of nowhere. he pulled away from the road, parked in a field under the stunning midnight sky. dean must admit, that’s a favorite of his— hands pressed against the window of his car, skirt pulled up and your thong slipping off and clinging to your dirty boots while he’s balls deep inside your needy cunt with a camera in his hand.

every now and then he’d give your cute ass some attention, spanking it just enough to leave deep hand marks on your skin. dean uses his free hand for support, gripped tightly around your hips; your dripping pussy clenched pefectly around the thickness of his cock. between every thrust you moan his name so loud that you end up screaming his name and begging him to fuck you harder.

“that’s right, baby, just like that. look at that tight fuckin’ pussy swallowing me whole.”

the second one? dean’s idea. pure roleplay. every time he remembers he caught it on camera, a stupid cocky grin appears on his handsome face. that’s his girl. the camera is pointed right at you choking on your boyfriend’s cock under his desk, teary eyes rolling back while he pushes his girth down your throat. a tight pencil skirt hugs your hips and a black lace bra peeks out of your shirt, pushing up your pretty tits and a pair of eyeglasses lay low on your nose.

he’s your boss. and being such a dedicated secretary, you simply can’t miss the chance of pleasing your boss who just came out of his meeting! which, by the way, was so incredibly rough the man is in urgent need of a pretty mouth like yours to use freely. he sips out whiskey out of his glass with his other hand fisted around the length of your hair. tears roll down your cheeks while his girth disappears down throat.

“c’mon, pretty girl, take it all. do it for your boss.”

“yes, sir.”

this one is slightly different. but needless to say, it’s a classic. it’s close shot of his cum leaking out of your sweet cunt after he’d bred you senseless with your ass up and face buried in the soft pillow. in the same position, you place your palms on your ass cheeks, spreading them open, letting your boyfriend take a shot of all the cum oozing out of your folds. he buries two fingers inside inside of you, letting more of it spill out, capturing a perfect shot. he stuffs the same fingers inside you mouth and you part your wet lips eagerly to taste it.

thank you for reading !! rbs are appreciated <3