aylacavebear

[aylacavebear]

࣪𖤐.ᐟ 01 MONSTER

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(people i don't like - upshl) ❝ yeah, i don't really wanna be here like, ah-ah-ah-ah❞

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OPHELIA WALKED INTO THE POLICE PRECINCT IN MEDFORD, WISCONSIN. She shoved the door open with her shoulder, holding a cardboard cup of coffee she had picked up on her way here. She stood at the reception desk, setting her cup down on the counter and tapping her finger while she waited for the receptionist to get off of the phone - but Ophelia didn't think the woman was talking about professional matters. She was a private detective, usually being hired by police precincts.

"Yeah, my boyfriend took me out to a local bar for some drinks, y'know? Things got pretty spicy when we got home if you catch my-" The receptionist was clearly talking about her previous night. She noticed Ophelia standing at the desk and covered her phone, "Hello! How can I help you today?"

"Oh, Detective Ophelia Naenia? Alright, follow me." The receptionist stood up and led Ophelia through the building, passing through security and making her way upstairs. As they walked, a few men in passing were stealing glances, some even slowing down their work a bit. The receptionist brought Ophelia into a small office and gestured to one of the two chairs in front of someone's desk, "Take a seat! The chief will be with you momentarily."

Ophelia didn't say anything other than giving a curt nod. Not even a thank you was said. She watched the receptionist open her mouth like she was going to speak, and then close it again before leaving. She was probably going to offer her something to drink but then realized Ophelia already had a cup of coffee from down the street.

Shortly after the receptionist left, the door to the office swung wide open. A burly, middle aged bald man stood in the doorway. He looked up from a folder in his hands, his eyes landing on Ophelia, "You must be Detective Naenia. Welcome. I'm Chief Wilson."

Ophelia stood up immediately and shook his hand politely. "Nice to meet you." She said politely before she sat back down, Chief Wilson taking a seat at his desk across from her. "I'm glad I could make it on time." She stated.

Chief Wilson sat down across from her, shuffling papers in his folder before looking up at her. He seemed tired, like he hadn't slept much since the murders started. He set the folder down on his desk, "Yes, the murders have become a big issue. We've been investigating for weeks, but we've gotten nowhere. We're hoping you'll be able to shed some light on things."

Ophelia read some of the papers on his desk, she read them slightly slower than usual - the words were upside down. COUPLE MURDERED. CHILD LEFT ALIVE. MEDFORD, WISCONSIN. "And this murder happened yesterday, correct?"

Chief Wilson nodded, "Yes, yesterday morning. A couple was viciously attacked in their home while their child was nearby. Their bodies were found in their bedroom, torn to shreds. The strangest part, is that the child was completely untouched, unharmed."

"Poor kid," Ophelia muttered under her breath - though her serious expression didn't change. "And the three of them had been at the carnival that same night, presumably where the *killer clown* works?" Ophelia said 'killer clown' as if she didn't believe it.

Chief Wilson nodded, a grim look in his eyes. "That's correct. The parents had taken their child to the Cooper Carnival in town for some fun. The kid said her parents didn't even see the clown, but that she did." The Chief explained. Ophelia sighed gently and nodded. "Is the kid still here? If so, could I talk to her?" She asked. The Chief nodded. "Her Aunt lives out of state and is on the way, so we're keeping her here until then - go ahead."

With that, Ophelia stood to head to the door, she threw her now empty coffee cup into the office's trash - that's what it was there for. She didn't say anything else as she entered the hallway, she nearly threw a punch when the receptionist was standing right at the door. "Uh, hi." Ophelia put her hands back down.

The receptionist stood awkwardly in the doorway, her cheeks turning a subtle shade of red as she suddenly found herself very close to the other woman. She cleared her throat, her expression betraying some hint of attraction. "Uh, sorry about that - I didn't mean to, uh-" She stumbled on her words a little, clearly somewhat flustered.

Ophelia seemed almost annoyed now, so she kept her mind focused on the task. "Is that her?" Ophelia asked, pointing to a little girl swinging her feet off the bench in the waiting room. The receptionist cleared her throat again and averted her gaze, seemingly trying to compose herself. She followed the other woman's gaze to the little girl sitting on the bench. "Yes, that's her," she said, managing to collect herself. "She's been staying with us since..."

"Right." Ophelia responded before she headed over to the little girl. She took a quiet seat next to the little girl and leaned forward. "I'm Ophelia, I'm a Detective." Her voice was light, and filled with sympathy - which she hadn't sounded like before.

The little girl looked up at Ophelia, her eyes still red and puffy from crying. She seemed shy and wary, but the sympathy in Ophelia's voice seemed to bring a small glimmer of hope to her weary expression.

"Hi," she whispered timidly. "Are you here to find the mean clown?"

Ophelia, for once seemed to not have words for a moment. She looked at the little girl and remembered how sad and scared she was when her own father was killed.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm here to find the mean clown..." She knew that no one had believed the little girl saw a scary clown, her parents hadn't even seen it at the carnival the previous night.

The little girl fidgeted with the sleeve of her shirt, her expression troubled. "But no one believes me," she muttered softly. "They all think I made it up." An older officer passing them by overheard their conversation and scoffed, muttering under his breath, "Kid's just traumatized, making up stories to cope."

Ophelia's head snapped up from that comment, she glared at the officer - he started coughing on air for a good thirty seconds. When Ophelia looked back down, he stopped. "I believe you."

She seemed grateful for the woman's words. "You...you believe me?" she asked, her voice shaky.

Ophelia nodded simply, glancing back up as she saw two men come through the door. She was just aware of her surroundings, but she looked back down at the kid. "I think what you saw was real, and I'm going to help you." She heard someone clear their throat and when she looked up she saw two men around her age. One taller, and one slightly shorter. "Uh, I don't suppose you're the receptionist?" The slightly shorter man asked. "No," You responded.

The two men exchanged a puzzled look, the taller one whispering to the shorter one. They approached Ophelia and the little girl, their eyes flickering to the child briefly before the taller one spoke up, "Who are you, then?"

The little girl suddenly piped up, "Are you here to help find the clown, too?"

Ophelia glanced down at the little girl, who she sadly couldn't remember if she had even asked or remembered her name.

The little girl's question hung awkwardly in the air for a moment. The taller man, noticing the lack of answer, cleared his throat to speak but the shorter man elbowed him in the side, giving him a subtle look.

They both seemed to be in their early twenties, though the shorter one had an air of maturity and experience beyond his years. The taller one, on the other hand, looked almost boyish, but there was a hardened glint in his eyes.

"Well, are you?" Ophelia finally spoke - looking up at the two men, her eyes almost piercing through them. They didn't answer.

She rubbed the little girl's shoulder in a comforting way. She turned back to the little girl for a minute. "I'll be right back okay, I'll bring you a hot chocolate." She had noted the dispensery machine when she had walked in and out of the Cheif's office.

The little girl nodded mutely, her gaze fixed on the two men, a mixture of hope and curiosity in her eyes. The two men exchanged a brief, almost amused glance, observing the interaction. They started following Ophelia over to the dispenser.

The shorter one leaned forward, his voice hushed as he spoke with Ophelia out of earshot from the little girl. "You're a natural with kids." he commented quietly. Ophelia grabbed a cup and set it on top of the metal grate. She turned and crossed her arms at them. "Who are you guys?"

The two men were caught off guard by her question, their initial facade slipping for a moment before they composed themselves. The shorter one raised an eyebrow, his gaze assessing her. "You're rather perceptive, aren't you?" he commented, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The taller one shuffled awkwardly, shooting the shorter one a warning look.

The two men exchanged another quick glance, both clearly a bit taken aback by her straightforwardness. The shorter one chuckled softly. "Fair enough. We're with the FBI," he said, sticking with the falsehood. The taller one coughed, trying to sound authoritative but failing slightly. "Yeah, we're here to cooperate with the local police on this case." Neither of them seemed all that convincing.

Ophelia took the cup of hot chocolate from the machine and put a lid on it. "Show me your badges?"

The two men seemed a bit unprepared for the request, but the shorter one was quick to reach into his jacket, pulling out a small wallet that held a very convincing-looking badge. The taller man followed suit, producing his own badge, which also looked legitimate. However, both seemed to be on edge, their eyes darting around the precinct as if they were afraid of being caught.

Ophelia looked at the badges and then between the two men, she started walking towards the kid again before handing her the hot chocolate. The Agents followed her closely behind - especially Dean who reacted a bit like how the receptionist had.

"Here you go, kiddo." She handed the kid her cup of hot chocolate before ruffling her hair. "I was told your Aunt is on her way, I'd imagine she'll be here soon." Ophelia explained, before pausing. "I'm going to go with these Agents to see what we can find out at the Carnival - I promise, we'll find who did this."

The little girl took the hot chocolate, her expression a mix of fear and hope. She nodded at Ophelia's words, her small hand gripping the cup tightly. "Okay," she whispered softly.

The two men watched the interaction with a mixture of surprise and slight discomfort, the short one's gaze flickering between the child and Ophelia. He seemed oddly affected by her gentleness with the little girl, though he quickly masked it with his usual nonchalance.

Ophelia turned to the two men. "Let's go." She said, as she started leading them out of the precinct.

The two men followed her out of the precinct, their expressions a mix of curiosity and caution. The shorter one seemed slightly on edge, his eyes darting around as if he were expecting something to happen.

As they stepped outside, he spoke up, his demeanor turning slightly casual but with a hint of tension. "You're quite...not what I expected from a detective."

She glanced between the two of them, having arrived at her car and opening the trunk. "Why's that?" The taller man seemed to shoot his coworker a glance, as if telling him to be careful with his answer.

The short one shrugged nonchalantly. "You just seem...different. Just-" he struggled for the right word, his eyes roving over her. The tall one coughed, interrupting his coworker, "He means you're more, uh..." He tried to find another choice of words in his head.

"He was going to say hot." Ophelia said bluntly, closing the trunk of her car - having slide something into her pocket. "And I know neither of you are real feds."

The short one looked taken aback by her bluntness, his cool demeanour slipping momentarily. He recovered quickly, though, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Is it that obvious?" he asked, his expression becoming a blend of annoyance and amusement. The tall one, on the other hand, simply sighed, his exasperated expression betraying his lack of surprise. "It usually works." He mumbled.

Ophelia cracked an amused expression and slightly laughed for the first time. "Frankly, I don't care who you are but if you're more competent than the real cops - you're welcome to tag along." She stated, in reality - she was stuck on this case. "I'm Ophelia, by the way."

The two men seemed slightly shocked at her sudden shift from serious to amused, but they composed themselves quickly - albeit not very well. The short one's eyes were glued on her, his surprise and slight admiration evident in his gaze.

"I'm Sam," the tall one answered. He pointed over at his shorter companion, who was still fixated on Ophelia. "And he's Dean."

As Sam introduced them, Ophelia locked gazes with Dean for a moment, her eyes meeting his intense stare with an equal amount of curiosity and intrigue. She broke the eye contact briefly to look up at Sam, noticing Dean's expression falter slightly as her attention shifted.

"Alright, Sam and Dean. Let's get moving then," she said, her tone back to being all business. Sam nodded, regaining his composure as well. Dean seemed to be slightly thrown off by her gaze, but he masked it well. "Right, let's go." Sam agreed, following behind her as they headed to her car, a worn black Ford. Dean lingered for a moment, his eyes still on her - there was something about her that had him completely taken in.

Ophelia got into the front seat, and waited for the two to get in. She hadn't seen a new car in the parking lot so she assumed they took a bus or something.

Sam got into the passenger seat, leaving Dean to open the backend door. He climbed it and grunted as he got himself in, shifting to try to get comfortable on the leather seat. He didn't complain, but it was evident that he wasn't used to squeezing into the backseat. As he settled in, he let out a low whistle, looking around at the interior of the car. "Nice ride." he commented.

Ophelia let out a slight scoff as she adjusted her mirrors and turned the key into the engine. "Yeah, it is."

As the engine roared to life, Dean shifted again to get comfortable, but there was clearly not enough room for his long legs in the small backseat of the car. He sighed, resigning himself to the uncomfortable space, while Sam tried to stifle a smirk, clearly amused by his brother's predicament.

Ophelia drove out of the parking lot, stopping at the edge of the lot to see if it was clear to turn onto the road. When it was, she went - and she didn't say much else.

Ophelia clearly noticed his attempts at conversation, so on his third attempt she finally sighed and spoke. "Why don't you just ask me whatever you were going to ask?"

Sam was taken aback by her sudden attention, not expecting her to call him out. He cleared his throat, his expression shifting to one of slight embarrassment. "Uh, right. Well..." he hesitated for a moment.

Dean, from the backseat, leaned forward slightly, his attention sharpening at Sam's pause. Sam sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in slight discomfort. "I was just wondering how...how you knew we weren't real agents?" The question seemed to be something that had been bothering him since she had called them out back at the precinct.

She laughed lightly, which she hadn't really done. And not just with the two men in her car - she never really smiled. "Your badges said Agent Johnson and Agent Smith - those are two of the most generic names ever." She said bluntly. Ophelia was always blunt.

But she had a reason.

Sam seemed taken aback at her answer, his expression turning into a mix of surprise and slight annoyance at how it seemed so simple. Dean, on the otherhand, chuckled softly from the backseat. "Yeah, she's got us there." he commented, his tone holding a touch of amusement.

Ophelia opened the window a crack, to let a small breeze in - since it had gotten sunny since they had gotten in the car. She looked at her rear view mirror, catching Dean's chuckle in the reflection.

Sam, noticing the interaction, rolled his eyes slightly, clearly used to Dean's habit of trying to charm women. Ophelia was no exception now.

"Big-top." She broke the silence, pointing in the distance - peaking through the trees, a large red-and–white circus tent. She was clearly not effected by Dean's attempts.

Both Sam and Dean looked ahead, their attention moving from her to the large tent in the distance. Sam's expression turned serious, his eyes narrowing at the sight. Dean, on the other hand, was slightly amused. "Big top, huh?" he remarked, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Seems we've found our destination."

Ophelia pulled her car in the parking lot, trying to find a free space in the rocky driveway. She backed into a space and started to get out of the car. "Let's find this thing."

2025 Ophelia. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be preproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author; except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and other noncomercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This work is a piece of fanfiction inspired by Supernatural. While it is based contains the characters, settings and concepts from the original work, it also includes original characters and story elements created by me. The characters and world that belong to the official work remain the property of their respective creators and rights holders. No copyright infringement is intended - this is a labor of love, crafted for entertainment and appreciation of the fandom.

[aylacavebear]

Rocking Wet

⋆ ˚｡⋆ PAIRING Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SUMMARY "Paddleboards' for chicks," Dean argued. "There's more playroom for below-deck action," you countered with a wink. Next moment you're somewhere off shore, the sound of the waves surrounding you while you're making out on a paddleboard like a pair of horny teenagers.

WARNINGS / TAGS NSFW, 18+ MDNI, Smut, Established relationship, Basically pwp, Thigh riding, Kind of a slick-play kink??, Playful bantering / teasing, Pushing the bikini aside (it’s a thing lol), Fingering, Handjob, Dean’s needy and whiny !! 😫👌, Horniness cannot be stopped, Kinda public smut, No use of Y/N.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS 1k + 1 SPLASH (These 1k wc limits are killing me)

⋆ ˚｡⋆ J / NOTES Here's my smut piece as an entry for @ambiguous-avery's Summer Snapshot Challenge !

Your tongue swipes along the curve of his salt-sprinkled lips, tasting the sea. Dean lifts his head off the paddleboard, his teeth going at your lower lip as he tugs at them. You both moan in unison - break apart to catch each other's intense look.

The summer sun paints his freckled cheeks with a hue of red while perls of water still collect below the soaked hair of his, dark and stuck to his skin.

Your fingers tug at his waistband before you let it snap back against the wet skin of his stomach, earning yourself a wide-eyed, surprised "O" of his plump lips.

Then you sit back, reach down to your spandex to nudge it partially aside.

Dean's eyes widen even more when his leg hair's slicked back by your own wetness as you drag your core across his thigh. Slow. Heavy.

His reaction's instant - the string of muscle twitches between your legs while blunt fingernails clamp down on your ass.

"Fuck," he groans, head tipped back, "You marking me, babe?"

"Mhm. Saw those Baywatch girls oggling you," you hum. Wiggle your ass down, just enough to watch his eyes flutter as you part your folds around his thigh, searching for that perfect angle. "Making sure you know who you belong to, Haselhoff."

Dean bites back another groan.

He pats your ass with one hand and strokes his free thigh with his other - lips parted into that teasing, smug grin of his.

"'Tis one for you and one for cute little Casey Parker*."

You snort-chuckle.

"You think I'd be sharing?"

You raise your hips to give Dean a nice view of your fingers as they slide down your glistening body, then part your folds to collect some of your arousal. Dean's eyebrows pop, breath hitches, as he watches you with parted lips how you spread your slick across the top of his other thigh.

"Goddamn, honey," he rasps out.

"Both mine." You shoot a smug smile down at him with another roll of your hips. Dean chuckles. "Damn right - show me." And you go in with a little more force, the angle perfect for that sweet friction of his hard muscle against your clit.

The board trembles - you freeze - Dean's grip on you tightens and your eyes lock.

"Need more?"

You bite your lips. Wait for another beat until the plane below you calms again.

"Yeah."

Dean hums in response.

His hand wiggles down between your bodies where his fingertips tap against the inside of your thigh. You nudge your knees a bit further to the edge of the board - careful not to shake it.

The tip of his forefinger follows your curves, teases you right next to the crease between your leg and groin where the hem of your bikini bottom's cutting into your wet skin.

Dean pushes the thin piece of spandex fully aside. You shudder, forehead dropped to his. Next moment he runs his fingertips through your folds, then pushes two fingers inside.

You groan. He moans – begins to pump them until your thighs are shaking and you suddenly pull back. Leave his fingers slip out as you begin to reposition yourself to take care of him – but Dean hooked his finger under your bikini's string.

"Wait," his voice equals the whine of a pleading dog, "Wanna feel you cum."

His hazy focus snaps around the limited space you have to work with.

This' gonna be like twister erotica.

"Lean on me, I've got ya."

He inches further down, keeping the balance of the board in check, while you crawl on top of him – every movement followed by waves splashing over the board.

Dean‘s arm comes up to stabilize you with his hand on the small of your back as his other returns between your legs.

You lower your chest, angle your shoulders to rest your weight on top of him, forearm braced against the board next to his head, one knee pushed up to his groin where your other free hand trails down.

The angle's a bit awkward. But you manage to slip your hand into his trunks and wrap your fingers around the base of his hard cock – he hisses – his grip tightens, before his jaw goes slack with a long-drawn-out, whining 'ahhh' as a visible shiver shakes his body.

You pause – let his shaky exhale jiggle the amulet on his chest while his eyes screw up.

This view never gets old.

You begin to palm him, skim his sensitive head with your nails and watch through your own blissfully lidded eyes how his bottom lip's trembling, mouth dropped further open with a shuddering whimper.

"Paddleboard's just for chicks, huh?"

"Fuck- please –" he rasps out your name, and you begin to pump him faster with a satisfied smile.

His long fingers push in deeper. Adds his ring finger to the party before he goes to rub the spot that has you buckle and the board sway.

Dean‘s eyes snap open and lock with yours. Noses touching, your soaked hair sticking to his damp forehead. Panting heavily.

"God –" you both freeze for a moment, chuckling "– We're so hellbent on this."

"Not one to half-ass," he grins. Then playfully bumps your forehead with his, "C‘mon, sit down on my fingers. Ladies first."

You let go of him, reluctantly. Lean back and slowly sink down on his fingers, his hand - palm‘s up - flat on the thigh you‘re straddling.

"Use me, baby," he urges you.

You begin to rock your hips. Carefully.

Dean curls his digits and grinds the heel of his palm against your clit for that extra friction and sounds.

Your head drops back, eyes fluttering as you feel your pleasure building. You rock harder – when the world suddenly begins to tilt.

Like. For real.

You squeal, "Move left– Dean– left!"

"Bossy today, are we?" he grins, oblivious as he is, and scissors his fingers.

"NO DEAN – MOVE YOUR ASS TO THE LE––"

SPLASH.

*Dean’s pop-culture guide: C.J. Parker is Pamela Anderson’s character in Baywatch!

⋆ ˚｡⋆ J / NOTES I realized that I haven't written smut in quite a while. And uh, packing this into 1k turned out to be more difficult than I thought... I hope it was still enjoyable 😂

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@aylacavebear @jc-winchester @ambiguous-avery @bettystonewell @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @v1v1-3 @maddie0101 @livya99 @supernotnatural2005 @youdontknowe @zepskies @waynes-multiverse @123passwort @lamentationsofalonelypotato @my-stories-vault @lillied31

@champagnepoets @salemslostwitch @chevroletdean @multiversefanfics @toxicfataldestiny @sunnys-struggles @kimxwinchester @carliebear23 @alexxavicry @ladykitana90 @woaheasytig3r

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[aylacavebear]

Cake by the Ocean

Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/You x Sam Winchester | WC: 971

Summary: You said it without thinking (or did you?), and they heard you loud and clear.

Tags/Warnings: Established polyship (no wincest), fluff, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men

A/N: Another one for my Summer Snapshot Challenge! I love a good misunderstanding. You know the boys would totally be into it! 💜 Title from the song “Cake by the Ocean” by DNCE.

It was a rare moment for the three of you. No monsters. No ghosts. No licking wounds in a shitty motel room. For the first time in as long as you could remember since you started hunting alongside the Winchesters, the three of you were able to enjoy an honest-to-God vacation.

You, Sam, and Dean were sprawled out beneath a large, striped umbrella, beach towels spread out beneath you. Sam was working his way through a paperback mystery on one side of you, and Dean enjoyed an ice cold beer on the other, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. And you were tucked right in between the two shirtless boys, happily sipping away at something fruity with a paper umbrella while enjoying the view – of the waves and your men.

“Mmm,” you murmured, stretching your legs out and polishing off your drink. “I could really go for sex on the beach.”

Dean practically choked on his beer, and Sam’s attention was abruptly pulled away from his story. You blinked at them innocently. “What?”

Dean pushed his glasses up onto his head, squinting at you like you had just grown a second head – but, you know, a hot second head.

“You usually make those kinds of declarations before noon, or is this, like, a vacation thing?” Dean asked, his eyes flicking from your mouth to your thighs then back up to your face.

“Am I wrong? You can’t tell me it doesn’t sound like the perfect thing to cap off a day like this. Warm sand, ocean breeze, a little salt on the skin…” You grinned. Sam cleared his throat and lowered his book.

“You, uh, been thinking about this for a while?” 

“Are we talking like ‘sand in places it doesn’t belong’ kind of sex on the beach? Or an improvised blanket situation?” Dean turned to face you fully, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sounds like you’ve thought it through a bit already, Dean.”

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, “there are logistics involved.”

“You know that we do have a motel room like fifteen minutes away from here, right?” Sam’s tone was a mix of exasperation and matter-of-fact, but clad in only his swim trunks, there was no hiding the flush creeping down his neck.

“Oh my god you two are adorable.” You threw your head back with a laugh. Both Winchesters shared a look, confusion etching across their features. “I’m talking about the drink,” you clarified, shaking your empty glass so the ice clinked against the sides. “Vodka, peach schnapps, cranberry juice? Sound familiar?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Dean's mouth fell open slightly, and Sam's face went from flushed to absolutely crimson. You watched as the realization dawned on them both, and you couldn't help but dissolve into another fit of giggles. “Oh, you should see your faces right now,” you gasped between laughs, clutching your stomach. “Dean, you look like a fish. And Sam–” You turned to the younger Winchester, who you swore was trying to hide behind his paperback. “Are you trying to disappear into that book?”

Dean recovered first, as he always did, that cocky grin sliding back into place as he set his beer in the sand and rolled over top of you.

“Oh, you think you're real funny, don't you?” he drawled, caging you in with his arms as sand shifted beneath your towel. His green eyes sparkled with mischief and something darker. “You did that on purpose. Getting us all worked up over a cocktail.”

“I think I'm hilarious,” you shot back, not even trying to hide your grin as you looked up at him. The sun created a halo around his messy hair, and damn if he didn't look good enough to eat. “But I could go for the other kind, though. Blanket, not sand. Unless you two have strong opinions otherwise…” That stopped him short. Sam's book hit the sand with a soft thud.

“You're gonna be the death of us,” Dean muttered, but he was smiling as he said it, leaning down to press a kiss just above your collarbone.

“What a way to go though, right?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Dean replied, his voice dropping to that gravelly tone that always sent shivers down your spine. “Beats getting ganked by a ghost any day.”

“Guys, we're on a public beach,” Sam reminded you both, though he made no move to pick up his fallen book. Instead, he shifted closer, his large hand sliding the hem of your sun dress up and coming to rest on your bare thigh.

“Never stopped us before,” you teased, enjoying the way Sam's eyes darkened at your words. Dean chuckled against your neck.

“Remember that case in Arizona? Behind the abandoned theater?” Dean hummed.

“Or the cave in Oregon,” Sam added unexpectedly, a rare smirk playing on his lips. You sat up slightly, pushing Dean back just enough to look between them.

“Well, well, well. Look who's suddenly on board with public indecency.”

“I never said I wasn't on board,” Sam said, his voice quieter but no less heated. “I just like to… assess the situation first.”

“Glad one of us is responsible,” Dean said, not taking his eyes off you. “Always thinking with his big brain.”

“I think I’d prefer if you two thought with something else right now,” you said, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. Sam looked like his brain had just blue-screened, and Dean was looking at you like you were a challenge and a reward wrapped up neatly in a sundress.

“Careful, sweetheart. You keep talking like that, and you’re getting more than a drink with dinner.” The ice cubes in your glass clinked against each other as it slipped from your grasp and onto the beach towel under you.

“Here’s hoping.”

---

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[aylacavebear]

When She Walked Away Ch 1 The Quiet Before

Summary: In a world where the line between human and supernatural is razor-thin, Y/N—a Touched of Bastet—was bound by an arranged marriage to Dean Winchester, a hunter who never saw her as anything but a monster. After saving his life and enduring years of rejection, she walked away—cutting ties with both their families and building a hidden sanctuary for outcasts like herself. Two years later, she's a respected leader, protector, and legend among those the world refuses to understand.

Now, as whispers of her growing power reach old allies and enemies alike, Dean—changed, remorseful, and haunted by memories—must face the woman he once cast aside. But forgiveness doesn’t come easy… and the past doesn’t stay buried.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2139

Warnings: Angst, Longing, Pining (if you squint), Dean a jerk, cannon-level violence, Doesn't follow the show timeline.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 1 – The Quiet Before

Year 4, Month 7 – Late Night

The rain was steady, a hushed rhythm that softened the forest surrounding the sanctuary. Mist curled along the treetops, shrouding the wards and watchtowers in silver haze. Y/N stood at the tall windows of her study, hands wrapped around a mug of black tea she hadn't touched. She watched the rain fall in long streaks across the glass, the fire at her back casting a gentle glow behind her.

The sanctuary she’d built was quiet this night, not somber—never that—but still. Like it knew something weighed heavy in her bones. Her council had felt it too. That strange thrum of old memories clawing their way up through the soil of time. She hated that she still felt it, even now.

She sipped her tea finally, ignoring the bitter edge. Her reflection in the glass was the same as always: steady, strong, guarded. The sanctuary leader. Bastet’s favored child. Her only Touched in a century. The one who walked away.

Children’s laughter had drifted faintly through the walls earlier—kitchen noises, the soft lull of bedtime. Now, all was still.

But earlier that evening, across the courtyard and beyond the gardens, a group of children had played near the north fountain. A young witch, ten years old and freckled, conjured iridescent bubbles that danced in the air. Two kitsune twins chased them, giggling, while a fledgling dragon—still in half-human form—hovered nervously above the grass, his wings flapping awkwardly.

Peace. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real.

Her chest ached, unbidden.

“I loved him. I still do. But I had to love me more.”

She whispered it, barely audible even to herself. Then she exhaled and moved back to her desk, where a leather-bound journal sat open to a marked page. Her handwriting flowed across the paper—firm, even. A habit she never let slip.

---------------- Journal Entry March 19, 2002 Day Before the Wedding He doesn’t look at me like I’m his. He doesn’t look at me like I’m anyone’s.

I know this was never about love.I know I’m a bargaining chip. A treaty wrapped in silk and claws and a healing bloodstream they want to control.

But there’s still a small part of me—the little girl who watched fairytales and dreamed of someone who would see her—really see her—and choose her. That part hasn’t died yet. I don’t know whether that makes me strong or foolish. Maybe both.

------------------- Journal Entry Year 0, Month 4 He wouldn’t listen. Not when I told him the pack wasn’t just three. Not when I reminded him my senses have never failed me. He went anyway.

I followed him out of instinct, knowing he would be pissed.

He would’ve died if I hadn’t stopped the bleeding.He didn’t even look at me when I did it. Not really.

Just said, ‘Thanks,’ like I was a tool.A medkit.

Not his wife.Not his partner.

I remember the smell of his blood. It hit me hard—richer, stronger than anything I’d scented before.

He just looked at me with those eyes like I was the thing that had torn him open. Not the one who stitched him shut.

And all I wanted to do was hold him. I think the worst part is that even now, I still want him to want me.

She pushed that one aside. Too long ago, and memories she didn't want to have play out. Not tonight. The rain always had her drawn back to her older journals. Things she tried to put away, leave where they belonged, in the past.

Tonight felt harder, with Thanksgiving only a couple of weeks away. If it weren't for the magic from the other creatures within the sanctuary, it would be chilly, too cold for children to have been out much at all earlier in the day.

For a moment, she just sat there, eyes moving slowly over the other journal, already sitting open to an entry she wasn't sure she wanted to read. But just like every other time, she pulled it close, the words leaving her lips in a whisper, fingers brushing like feathers over the paper.

------------------------ Memory of that Journal Entry… It had been early spring, just warm enough for the trees to bloom. He left before sunrise.

Dean’s intel had been clear—or so he said. Three werewolves. Spread thin. Easy to isolate. Easy to kill. He insisted he didn’t need backup. He especially didn’t need her.

“Stay out of it,” he’d snapped that morning. “I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I’m walking into.”

Y/N had scented the lie before he even finished the sentence.

“They’re nesting, Dean. You can smell it in the soil. You think that’s three wolves? It’s a den. Six minimum. Probably more. You walk in there alone and you won’t walk out.”

He hadn’t listened. He never did—not when it came to her instincts. Her bloodline. Her claws. All things that made her less than human in his eyes.

But that didn’t stop her from following him.

He parked the Impala on the edge of a rusted property line, the woods thick with fog and blooming clover. He disappeared into the treeline like he owned it.

She followed minutes later, barefoot and silent, the damp earth clinging to her toes.

The ambush happened exactly where she’d predicted.

He’d taken down the first two easily—cocky, fast, reckless. The third one nearly gutted him. The fourth tore into his thigh. He was still trying to reload when the fifth appeared. He never saw the sixth.

But Y/N did.

She moved like smoke. Feline, silent, and fast. Her claws tore through fur and tendon. Her blood sang with adrenaline, eyes glowing gold in the moonlight. She didn’t stop until they were all down.

She dropped to her knees beside him, hand instantly pressing to the open wound at his side. His pulse was fading.

“Don’t you fucking die on me, Dean,” she hissed, tearing open her palm with a fang and pressing the bleeding skin to his lips.

He tried to flinch away.

“Swallow. Now.”

He did.

Her healing blood worked fast. The color returned to his skin before he could even speak. His breathing slowed. Stabilized.

And then he opened his eyes.

“Y/N?”

She sat back, eyes burning. “You arrogant, pigheaded bastard. I told you. I told you.”

He didn’t say sorry. He didn’t thank her, either.

Just muttered, “Didn’t ask you to follow me.”

She stood up. The silence stretched between them like barbed wire.

“No,” she said. “You didn’t.”

But she had. And he lived.

And that night, when they returned to the motel, and she curled into the far side of the bed with her back to him, he didn’t reach for her. Didn’t say a word.

-------------------

There had been a time when she thought loving him was enough. That if she just proved her loyalty, her worth, her usefulness—he might one day look at her like she was something more than the sharp edge he was forced to sleep beside.

Stupid. Foolish. Childhood dreams born of fairytales and movie screens. That little girl had wanted to be someone’s treasure. To be chosen, protected, loved, not despite her wildness, but because of it.

“I should know better by now,” she whispered. “No one loves the monster. They just use her until she’s empty.”

She breathed in, slow and measured, pulling the ache back down where it belonged. Deep beneath bone and muscle and grace. She had too much to do. Too many people depending on her.

The Sanctuary didn’t care about the cracks in her heart. It needed her whole. And so she was.

A knock at the door pulled her from the memory.

“Come in, Sabine,” she said.

The door creaked open, and the fae healer stepped into the room. Her silver braid shimmered in the firelight, damp from the rain. She carried the scent of iron and wet moss—fae markers. Her expression was unreadable, but the tilt of her head said enough.

“You should rest, Y/N. Council meets at dawn.”

Y/N nodded, closing the journal softly. “I will. Just… got caught in old ghosts.”

Sabine crossed the room and placed a warm hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “They don’t haunt you. You carry them like armor.”

A faint smile touched Y/N’s lips. “Maybe. But armor still gets heavy.”

The Sanctuary had been born of necessity, but it had grown through love. Thirty-two permanent residents now—Touched, gifted, supernatural, mundane. Each one handpicked. Each one safe because of her.

Down the corridor, someone laughed in their sleep—probably Milo, the pyrokinetic. The sound made her chest ache in that familiar, quiet way.

She rose, walking past her desk where files and maps cluttered the surface—rumors of hunter uprisings, whispers of old magic resurfacing. Things to handle in the morning. Things that kept her needed.

And still… Still.

Some nights, like this one, she wondered if wanting was still allowed.

"Messenger at the gates. Says it’s urgent. It’s Garth."

Y/N was already pulling on her cloak. Garth only came when he hadn’t been able to stay away from Bess any longer, or something was going on with the human hunters.

She didn’t bother with an umbrella. The rain met her without hesitation, soaking the hem of her cloak, clinging to her hair. She walked the stone path through the heart of the sanctuary, past the round communal houses built from earthen magic and timber, past glowing windows and the soft hush of a world sleeping safely. Residents nodded respectfully but didn’t stop her. She was a force in motion—unapologetic, undeniable.

Gardens with night-blooming flowers gave off a soft luminescence, and enchanted lanterns floated lazily through the air. A few nocturnal beings stirred in the trees or rooftops. Milo, their vampire sentry, watched from a high perch above the main lodge. Rook stood near the bakery, unmoving but ever-aware.

The gate guards—Elian and Marek—stood at attention. They opened the barrier the moment they saw her.

There, standing just beyond the threshold, soaked and awkward, was Garth.

She stopped short.

They hadn’t seen each other in months, not since he’d last stopped by, finally able to sneak away from The Bunker. A place she had no interest in ever seeing up close.

The day he’d first come to the sanctuary, nearly a year ago, trembling and ashamed, it was to confess he’d been bitten. That he wasn’t human anymore.

She had forgiven him. Quietly. Offered him a place. A chance. He’d accepted. Randal’s pack had taken him in, teaching him how to curb the cravings of human hearts. That was when he’d met Bess, and almost hadn’t gone back to the human world.

But he’d learned so much in those six months, not only from Randal’s pack, but from everyone at the sanctuary. He returned to the human world, determined to find a way to bridge the gap the best he could. But now, here he was.

He didn’t speak. Just reached into his coat and pulled out a sealed envelope.

She didn’t take it.

His face softened. He understood. Nodded once and tucked it away.

"He asked me to deliver it," Garth said. "Didn’t tell me what was inside. I didn’t read it. You don’t want it—fine. I respect that."

Y/N’s throat felt tight.

"You’re still welcome here," she said, voice low.

"I know. But I’m not staying. Just wanted to make sure it got to you. Even if you don’t open it."

She nodded, and he turned away, disappearing into the trees like a ghost.

Sabine appeared at her side, silent.

They watched the gate close again. Wards hummed as the sanctuary sealed behind him.

Y/N exhaled shakily.

"The past always catches up when it’s not at peace," she murmured.

Sabine said nothing. Just reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

Together, they turned back toward the heart of the sanctuary, where the future waited—and the past refused to stay buried.

Back inside, the fire in Y/N’s study had dwindled to embers. She removed her cloak, draping it near the hearth, and poured the last of her tea down the sink. Sabine lingered just behind her.

"You’re not going to sleep tonight, are you?" the fae asked softly.

Y/N didn’t answer.

"The council will want clarity in the morning," Sabine continued. "They’ve been sensing the pull. The past isn’t the only thing stirring."

Y/N nodded slowly. “I’ll be ready. We’ll meet just after dawn.”

Sabine gave a low hum of approval. “Good. Then I’ll see you at first light.”

When Sabine finally left, Y/N crossed to her desk once more and laid her palm on the journal’s leather cover.

She closed her eyes.

And waited for morning.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2 - Echoes At Dawn - coming soon

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[aylacavebear]

Hi, in your upcoming story she walked away can you add that

1) mc had additional powers similar to wanda maximoff or jean grey.

2) can you do where the reader went through a spiritual transformation that changed her physical appearance for example her hair has white highlights and her looks has been enhanced or ethereal and her eyes would change into a different colour and how she transformed is the moonpool from h2o just add water as a example?

3) can also make mc a soul mother of twins maybe the twins where transfer into the mc womb by a higher power who sees her worthy because the twins biological parents passed before praying to someone to transfer them into another woman's womb?

4) reader has a vision that someday the hunting community and the supernatural and the gifted humans community will coexist similar to professor X but unlike professor X she's very careful and protective of her people because some hunters are still following the false doctrine about the supernatural being bad so she's taking precautions about it?

5) throughout mc journey when she cut ties with dean,his family her family,she made connections all around the world when she was travelling meeting new people and helping them with a dangerous supernatural threat that might take other the world or hurt innocent people, she along with her allies stopped countless threat?

6) i would say that mc has a code of ethics about protecting the innocent who are both supernatural and gifted humans also loyalty, trust,family always have each other's back no matter what?

I know it probably sounds alot and complicated but I really hope you don't mind?

Hi there, lovely anon 💛

Thank you so much for your continued interest and enthusiasm around When She Walked Away! I really appreciate the thought and excitement you’ve put into your ideas. That said, I wanted to be upfront and honest with you—I’ve already fully outlined and begun writing the story based on your original request, and the direction it's going in doesn’t align with the newer elements you mentioned.

While the details you suggested—like the spiritual transformation, soul motherhood, and mutant-style powers—are definitely cool and creative, they’d take the story into a much more fantasy-heavy and plot-divergent direction than I’ve envisioned for this fic. I want to honor the original emotional arc and worldbuilding I committed to when your request first sparked the idea.

That said, I love how rich your imagination is. If you ever decide to write your own version of this concept—or would like help fleshing it out—I’d be happy to cheer you on. And depending on how this fic unfolds and is received, I may open up to more requests in the future.

My fics are very Supernatural based. This current request doesn't feel as much Supernatural as the original request.

Thanks again for sharing your thoughts, and I hope you’ll still enjoy the story as it develops 💛

[aylacavebear]

⋆˚⊱ the talk,

summary. dean, your boyfriend, gives you the talk.

pairing. dean winchester x reader genre. weird fluff

wordcount. 748

notes / warnings. mild language, mentions of supernatural violence, protective/jealous dean winchester, pop culture references, a tense confession scene, slight crack energy

You’re not really mad, per se. More like… Yeah, confused as hell.

Because your boyfriend just told you monsters are real—like, capital-M Monsters. Vampires, werewolves, demons, the whole horror movie roster. Except this isn’t a movie. You’re not on your couch, halfway through a sleepover marathon with a bowl of popcorn in your lap. You’re at your kitchen table, and Dean is sitting across from you looking like someone just kicked his puppy. Which is kind of hilarious considering he just confessed to stabbing a werewolf with a silver blade last week.

You haven’t said a word in maybe… five minutes.

Dean’s knee is bouncing. He keeps glancing toward the door like he’s expecting you to run for it.

“I didn’t tell you ‘cause I didn’t want you to freak out,” he mutters, voice low. “It’s not exactly first date kinda stuff, y’know?”

You blink slowly. “…You said you were a mechanic.”

He flinches. “I can fix cars.”

“Dean.”

“Alright, part-time mechanic, full-time monster-hunter. Happy?”

You lean back in your chair, arms crossed. You should be more panicked. Any reasonable person would be. But the weird thing is—you’re not. Not really. Maybe it’s because Dean doesn’t feel dangerous to you. He feels safe. Has since the night you met him in that parking lot, laughing and talking you through your flat tire like he didn’t have somewhere better to be.

You’ve seen the way he handles a wrench. The way he walks you to your door. The way he keeps a loaded gun at yours and how he sometimes feels the need to sleep with a knife under his pillow.

You should’ve figured this out.

Dean's still talking, trying to explain himself.

“I just—look, I never wanted to lie to you, but this life? It’s dark. I didn’t want to drag you into it unless I had to. But the longer we were together, the more I felt like... you should know. You deserve to know. I promise you, Y/N, I'm not cheating on you. I just have a shitty day-job.”

You stare at him a moment. Really look at him. His hands are clasped together on the table, knuckles scraped. There's a little blood on the edge of his sleeve. His jaw’s tight, shoulders hunched like he’s bracing for a slap.

You tilt your head.

“So… when you said you’d kill Damon Salvatore if he ever tried anything with me,” you say slowly, “you meant that?”

Dean’s whole face twists. “What—of course I meant it! That dude’s a vampire. He eats people, baby. I don’t care how nice his car is.”

You blink. Then blink again.

And then, god help you, you start laughing. Not a little giggle—like, full-body, stomach-aching, shoulders-shaking laughter. Dean just stares at you, caught somewhere between horrified and offended.

“I’m serious!” he says, eyebrows yanking together. “That guy’s a psycho! He compels people and drinks his weight in blood! I don’t care how many redemption arcs he’s got or what moody indie soundtrack they put under his scenes—he so much as sniffs in your direction, he’s toast.”

“Oh my god,” you wheeze, wiping your eyes. “You were jealous of a fictional vampire.”

Dean scowls. “He’s not fictional to me.”

You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand, eyes sparkling. “Okay, hunter-boy. So what is fictional to you?”

He pauses. “Uh… Harry Potter, probably.”

“That explains so much.”

Dean’s still tense, like he’s not totally convinced you aren’t about to kick him out.

You reach across the table and cover his hand with yours.

“I’m not running,” you say softly. “I’m weirded out, yeah. I mean, you basically just told me Buffy was a documentary. But I’m not scared of you, Dean.”

His shoulders drop about two inches. “Yeah?”

You nod. “You’re still the guy who brings me diner pie and gets pissy when I leave the window cracked at night.”

“That’s because it’s not safe,” he mutters.

“Uh-huh. You know I’m just gonna make more vampire jokes now, right?”

Dean groans. “Great. I’ve created a monster.”

You grin, leaning across the table to kiss him—quick and sweet, your fingers curling around his wrist.

He kisses you back like he’s exhaling for the first time in days.

When you pull away, you squint at him.

“…You still haven’t explained why you carry holy water in your jacket pocket.”

“Emergency exorcisms,” he says, deadpan.

You nod slowly. “Cool. Cool. Totally normal boyfriend things.”

Dean smiles, wide and shameless. “Welcome to the family business, sweetheart.”

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[aylacavebear]

18+ MDNI | thinking about how needy and touchy dom Dean gets when he wants to eat your pussy..

You’re laying in Dean's room, his head rests on your stomach, his large frame nestled between your thick thighs, as you slip your fingers thru his soft hair. His need to taste you grows with every touch, squeezing you as he pulls you tighter against him. “need to taste you so bad” he continues as his emerald eyes gaze deeply into yours.

You give him a lingering, approving glance while softly biting your lips as he slowly trails down your mound, his stubble rasping against your skin. The aroma of your arousal fills his nostrils, making his cock throb against the sheets. He couldn't believe how fucking wet you were, how eagerly your greedy little cunt was about to leak all over his face.

As he lowers himself, he gasps at the sight in front him. You’re in nothing but a t-shirt, pussy glistening. As you wait for his next move, dean abruptly licks a long, slow stripe up your slit, savoring the taste of your arousal on his tongue. He swirls his tongue around your clit, as you grip his soft hair in your hands.

Then suddenly, he jerks back just enough to lock eyes with you, a dark, twisted grin playing on his lips—before spitting on your clit without a word. You gasp at the sudden sensation, a sharp cry escaping your lips as he resumes without hesitation.

"You love having your pussy eaten, don't you, baby? Love feeling my tongue sliding deep in your tight little fuckhole?" Dean purred, his breath hot against your slick folds. "I bet you'd let me eat this pretty cunt anytime, anywhere. Even if i layed you out in the middle of the bunker where anyone could see us, I know you'd spread your legs for me and let me bury my face in your pussy." You nod and whimper in agreement, legs shaky at the mixture of sensation and filthy words coming out of deans mouth. "Look at you, baby. So fucking desperate for my tongue. You’re just as needy as I am to devour this creamy pussy." Dean growled, continuing to suck your clit between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. “Feel good sweet girl? Yeahh."

He could feel your thighs trembling around his ears, hear the needy little whimpers and moans spilling from your lips as he continues. The sounds spurred him on, making him double his efforts to drive you crazy, spitting on your pussy, fucking your hole with his tongue and making you come undone. Showing you how desperate he really is for you.

"You're mine. This perfect tight hole... it's all mine. And I'm gonna spend the rest of my life worshipping every inch of you. Gonna make you cum on my cock and my tongue until you can't fucking see straight, You want that sweetheart?"

Dean vowed, his voice rough with desire. You look down at Dean slightly nodding in approval. “Cmon sweetheart, need to hear more. Wanna hear how bad you need my cock sliding in and out of you..” he says rubbing up and down your thighs. “Fuck Dean I need to feel you please” you say in desperation. He could feel his need growing, his balls aching with the urge to fill you up. “That’s my girl”. He smirks leaning off your thighs to unbuckle his belt as you lean back waiting for his next move.

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[aylacavebear]

🍓 Arguments 🍓

Summary: You and Dean argue- a lot. Four stories of your arguments, and what they do to Dean.

Warnings: Smut, angry sex (sorta)

A/N: Significantly longer than most of my strawberry stories but no more thought through.

🍓 Stakeout

The first time you and Dean argued, really argued, it was during a hunt. You never really got on, constant bickering, petty fights. You thought he was confrontational, he thought you were an unnecessary complication, both of you respected each other but neither of you liked each other.

But on this hot southern day, the sun beating down on you both, tensions were already high. Your shirt stuck to you, glued down with sweat, your shorts doing nothing as the thick air clung to your skin. Neither of the Winchesters' were fairing any better, Sam's hair slicked back with moisture, Dean constantly wiping his forehead with the bottom of his shirt.

You'd been waiting outside the house for signs of movement; Dean's idea, opposed to your idea to rush in first thing in the morning, before the sun could break through the clouds. You were getting more and more pissed, the heat too much to bare, all of you getting antsy as the day wore on.

You kicked a rock towards Sam, a playful smile spread across his face. He darted his eyes towards Dean, still watching the house closely, and then back to you, matching your smile. He kicked the rock back, it landing next to your foot, close enough that you only had to step slightly to reach it and return it back to him. You continued for only a few moments, the rock tumbling across the floor messily between the two of you, until Sam kicked it harder, and it went flying behind you, clattering into a nearby trashcan.

Dean whipped around, his eyes boring into you both instantly, his face hot with anger, his voice was low but full of ferocity, "What the hell happened to staying quiet?!"

"There's no point staying quiet when you're staking out an empty house." You quipped back, trying to make Sam smile but instantly knowing he wouldn't be your lifeline here.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean's voice got louder as he approached you, "Do you ever listen?!"

"Do you!? We'd have been outta here hours ago if you'd have just gone with my plan!"

"You stuck-up bitch! Can you follow orders for once in your life?!" His face was inches from yours now, fists balling at his sides. To anyone else he'd be intimidating, but you'd faced far worse.

"Fuck you, Winchester!" You shoved his shoulder hard to stop him from stepping any closer.

Before any blows could be exchanged between you, Sam came up from behind his brother, standing between you both with his arms outstretched. You watched as Dean's jaw tightened, holding back whatever venom he wanted to throw, his hand flexing next to him. Sam looked at him and then back to you, "Just walk away."

You did as he said, anger emanating through you, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you turned away.

-

You didn't see Dean's eyes, wandering down your body as he watched you walk away. He didn't mean to, but before he realized what he was doing, his gaze was firmly fixed on your ass, covered only in your small shorts. He instantly felt a tightening in his pants at the sight, the anger winded out of him as arousal took over. He shook his head, stepping back from Sam, trying to clear the picture from his mind.

🍓 Broken Glass

You'd been civil since then, as civil as you could be, both of you keeping out of each other's way, barely speaking. Of course, that could only last for a few weeks.

You stood in the bunker's kitchen, cleaning a glass from the night before. Your head still throbbed from the alcohol, you and Sam getting drunk into the early hours while Dean was hidden away in his room. While it was fun in the moment, you were now regretting it as your hangover weighed over you, keeping you sluggish and in pain.

You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and jumped reflexively, the glass going flying as you reached for your gun nearby. The glass landed on the floor, shattering into a thousand glistening pieces. You finally looked up properly to see Dean stood in the doorway, looking between you and the glass, his face instantly filled with annoyance.

"Fucking hell-" he began to speak but you cut him off with a firm stare.

"I don't need the lecture, Winchester, it's a glass it's not going to kill you." You bent down to start picking the larger pieces off of the floor.

"This is exactly why you shouldn't be going on hunts, if you're clumsy enough to break a glass-"

"I'm not clumsy, asshole, I'm hungover, so I don't need whatever this is!" Your headache hit again, clouding up your mind.

"We don't need some hungover chick destroying our bunker!"

"Oh it's your bunker now?! Fuck you." You reached over to pick up a smaller piece. As your finger grazed the glass you felt it cut through you, a small sting arising. You stood up, a drop of blood forming on the end of your finger. You instinctively stuck it in your mouth, trying to wipe it away before it got worse.

Dean looked you over once before walking away again, exasperated.

-

That night Dean laid in bed, his phone propped up in one hand, his cock in the other, lazily stroking himself as he flicked through porn. He felt his orgasm rising, a tightening in his abdomen he was desperate to release. He watched the actress on his screen, the way her tits bounced as she moved, trying to focus on that to push himself to completion. He shut his eyes for a moment, and that's when your image filled his mind. One second you were crouched over on the kitchen floor, looking up at him with big eyes. Then your finger was in your mouth, sucking slowly, your eyes locked onto his. Then it was your ass in those shorts only weeks before, the image he'd been trying to get out of his head ever since.

He came hard and fast, thoughts of you filling his mind, unable to picture anything else. He felt his cum spilling out over his hand as he continued to fight the images, your body, your face.

His stroking slowed and his mind began to clear, the sound of moaning from his phone bringing him back to reality. For a moment he felt annoyed he'd wasted his orgasm on you, then a pang of guilt, but as he looked down at himself, his abdomen now covered in his own cum, he realized he hadn't come that hard in months.

🍓 Laptop

All day Dean had been angrier than normal, not talking to you, avoiding being in the same room as you. But you'd still catch him staring at you, his eyes fixed, lost in thought.

You sat down next to Sam at the table, opening your laptop to show him the research you'd been working on. Your screen flickered and then went black. While it had been broken for weeks you'd hoped you could keep it going for just a bit longer, but as the two of you looked at it now, an empty screen, you knew it was finally done.

"Just use Dean's." Sam shrugged, pointing to his laptop on the other side of the room.

"I'm not sure..." you trailed off, your face hesitant.

"Hey, he's not here, and you're working anyway, what can he do?"

So you sat, typing away on Dean's laptop, occasionally showing the screen to Sam, both of you lost in research. Hours went by before Dean came in the room, and you immediately tensed up as he looked down at you.

"Is that... my laptop?"

You rolled your eyes, "Mine's broken."

"So you just thought you'd use mine without even asking?"

Sam spoke up, "It was my idea."

"I don't care who's idea it was, she's the one who's using it."

"I'm doing research, Dean, it's not like I'm watching porn- which is all you use it for anyway!"

His eyes glanced over your body, only momentarily, so quickly you barely noticed it. You didn't care anyway, too angry to realize they were now firmly fixed not on your eyes, but on your lips.

"You should ask before using my shit." His jaw tightened.

"What, ask permission from daddy?" You rolled your eyes again and turned back towards the laptop. Dean walked away without another word.

-

He barreled into his room, undoing the fly of his pants in the process to relieve the throbbing erection he now had. He lay on his bed, pulling out his cock in one swift move and starting to stroke it.

He thought of you. He didn't even try to stop himself. He thought of your ass, your tits, your body. He thought of your face, your lips. He pictured them wrapped around his cock as he thrust into your mouth. He thought of bending you over, pushing into your tight pussy. He thought of making you moan, making you gasp, making you beg.

He came hard, a grunt escaping his lips, only you on his mind.

🍓 Keys

You pulled on your jeans, giving yourself another look in the mirror before leaving the room, desperate to be out of the bunker. Sam had been gone for three long days, and you hadn't spoken to anyone that whole time. Dean kept himself in his room, only coming out when you were in your own. It was awkward and tense between the two of you. You didn't know why- it always felt odd when it was just you but this was extreme.

You'd almost made it to the front of the bunker before you'd remembered Sam had taken your car. You sighed, exasperated. Making your way to Dean's room you formulated a plan in your head, you didn't want to have to explain to him why you needed his car, but you knew you'd have to eventually.

You knocked hard, hearing movement on the other side immediately. Dean opened the door, staring you down without a word.

"I need your keys." You kept your request short.

"And why's that?" He smiled slightly, he liked seeing you on the back foot.

"Sam took my car when he left, and I need to go out so..."

"And where are you going?"

You smirked, "How is that any of your business?"

"My car, my business." He stepped closer to you, towering over you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. There was no question he was eyeing your body over. You tensed your jaw, not used to the intrusiveness.

"There's this guy I know who's only in the state for one night, I'm meeting him at a motel."

Something flashed behind his eyes. Jealousy? Surely not. But you couldn't understand what the look meant. His hand flexed next to him.

"So you're taking my car to go get fucked by some other guy?"

You and Dean didn't like each other, sure, but this kind of confrontation wasn't normal.

You lowered your voice, looking away from him, "That's really none of your business."

"He any good?" He stepped forward out of the doorway, his body only inches from yours.

"What's your problem?!" You looked back up at him, locking eyes, your jaw tightening, anger rising.

In a second he stepped forward, grabbing your jaw between his fingers, his lips crashing into yours. You waited for a second, frozen, before your hands came up to his chest, pushing him back forcefully. Both of you separated, staring each other down, panting hard.

You looked him over. He was undeniably handsome, his muscles visible even through his shirt, his tight jaw flexing. You didn't know his game, but right now, you didn't care.

You both pushed into each other again, your lips colliding, forceful, heated. His hands were on your body in seconds, one wrapping around your hip, the other coming down to caress your ass. He pulled you into him, allowing himself to grip you tighter as his tongue roamed your mouth, both of you battling for composure against each other.

He pushed you against the wall, your back slamming into it hard as one hand found the back of his head and the other reached down under his shirt to his abdomen.

His hand came up again to your jaw, grabbing it tight as he broke away from the kiss. He looked down at you, hungry eyes flickering over your face, "Fuck. My bed, now."

You did as he said, both of you moving together, lips on each other, his mouth making it's way down your neck, biting down hard enough to make you yelp out a gasp. Once you were in his room you pushed him down forcefully onto the bed. He collapsed down, looking up at you, as you pulled your shirt off quickly, reaching down to the fly of your jeans. He followed your lead, no words spoken between you as he shuffled out of his own clothes.

Then you were back on top of him, both of you only in your underwear. He sat up in the bed as you straddled him, your pussy rubbing against the bulge in his boxers as you began to move your hips on top of him. His mouth came back to your neck, sucking at your skin, desperate to leave marks, as his hand came up to your bra, unhooking it easily and pulling it off of you. He palmed your breast, grabbing at it hard, fingers twisting your nipples sending harsh pleasure through you. You moaned loudly, grabbing a handful of his hair.

"Fuck, you love this!" He laughed into your neck, pinching your nipple again.

You let out another breathy gasp before pulling back to look at him, "Is that the best you can do?"

He smiled a wry smile, flipping you over underneath him in one swift movement and pinning you down with his body. He bit down again at your collarbone, and you pressed your body into his, desperate for his warmth. He lowered himself down quickly until he was by your hips, and then he slowly dragged your panties off of your legs, looking down at you naked below him and sucking in a ragged breath.

He leant down, his tongue gliding through your wetness. No teasing, he didn't want to draw this out, he just wanted you to feel how good he could be. He pushed a long finger into you as his mouth instantly found your clit, sucking on it lightly, causing your hips to rise as you wrapped your legs around his head. His tongue flicked across it and you let out another needy gasp as his fingers sped up their movements. He hooked his finger slightly, hitting your g-spot and causing another desperate moan to release from your lips. You could already feel your orgasm rising, but staved off another moan, not wanting to I give him the satisfaction.

His movements got more desperate as he lapped at your swollen clit, his head buried between your legs. He couldn't get enough of your taste, of your pussy pulsing around his fingers in pleasure as your legs began to shake around his shoulders. His hand tightened around your hip, his fingers gripping into your skin, red marks starting to form.

He sucked on your clit again and you moaned loudly, your back arching, "P-please-"

He looked up at you, a grin spread across his cheeks at your noises, "You begging already?"

You rolled your eyes but he pushed his fingers into you again and you held back another moan. "F-fuck me-"

"That a request?" His tongue darted out again to your clit.

"Yes!"

He looked up at you surprised, and eyebrow cocked, "Really?"

"For fuck's sake! Can you just hurry up and fuck me already?!"

He broke away from you as you unwrapped your legs from around your head. He stood at the foot of his bed, stroking his cock slowly in his hands as he looked down at you, "Turn over, I want to fuck you from behind."

You gawked loudly, "No chance, get on the bed."

Both of you stood staring at each other for a moment, neither of you wanting to be the first to break. But his desperation was clear as his cock twitched in his hands. He rolled his eyes, his tongue darting out as he eyed you over again, "Fine."

He did as you said, his hand wrapping around your hip as he shuffled onto the bed next to you. You straddled him for a second as he set himself onto the mattress, looking your body over.

You gripped his cock as you got into position above him, both of you desperate for pleasure, his lips parting only slightly. You sunk down onto him slowly as his cock stretched you out, your head rolling back, biting down hard on your lip to stop yourself from moaning. He watched your movements above him, a groan escaping his own lips.

He gripped your hips harder as he began to push himself into you from below, fast movements that caused you to keel over, your hands reaching down to his chest to steady yourself. You felt your orgasm beginning to rise again as he kept you upright above him, his cock slamming into your g-spot. You rolled your hips in time with him, the coil tightening in your core.

"R-rub my clit." You spoke firmly, but your desperation was clear.

He did what you said without question, his fingers pushing between your folds to tease your clit as you continued to grind on him.

You allowed yourself to moan loudly as you came, your hands gripping his chest tightly, your body doubling over. He watched as you came undone above him, searing the image into his mind, your lips parting, your tits bouncing, your pussy wrapped around his cock.

"I can't- fuck- I'm not gonna last much longer-" he managed to get out between breaths.

Your head started to clear as you continued to grind on him, "Don't cum in me-"

"Where do you want me then, sweetheart?" He tensed his jaw, staving off his orgasm.

Without a word you slipped off of him, lowering your body down until your lips were above his cock. You wrapped your lips around him, bobbing your head at the same rhythm your body had been only moments before. He looked down at you, your eyes wide staring up at him.

You felt as he came hard, his hand coming up to push your head lower as his thick cum flowed down your throat. You swallowed him down easily as he grunted loudly, his eyes fixed on you.

You rolled next to him, both of you laid on your back, panting hard. His hand came down to your body, his fingers lightly stroking over your shoulder, sending sparks through you.

Moments passed as your minds cleared, before you looked up at him again, feux innocence across your face, "So can I borrow the keys?"

[aylacavebear]

Hi can i ask for requests if you do one, in arrange marriage maybe different version and name, what if reader runaway because she's fed up with dean disrespecting her because she's a supernatural so what if the reader left in the middle of night cutting ties with dean, his family and her family by putting herself first and when dean realised that mc left him he started to feel remorse for his behaviour, so fast forward in 2 years later mc became successful, respected and well known by everyone because she managed to save countless lives or stopped a threat that could potentially taken over the world and maybe she has a team who is her chosen family who are both supernatural and gifted humans who all felt like an outcast because the hunting community won't accept them or treat them like equal maybe they live in a gated community that protects them from outside threats, anyways the Winchesters and mc family heard rumours about her success and wanted to see her, maybe dean has humble himself throughout the years and asking for mc forgiveness.

Sorry I know that probably sounds alot and confusing.

This is an absolutely AMAZING idea here. And well, I sort of ran with it only moments after reading your request. I've never taken requests before, but this one really hit me. It isn't a one shot. Just with how it played out and began weaving itself together in my head.

This is what it became When She Walked Away

I'm hoping to get the first chapter up this afternoon when I get home from work. And, I truly hope it meets your vision of your request. If this goes well, I might even consider taking more requests.

Thank you, for not only sharing your request with me, but trusting me to meet your vision.

[aylacavebear]

When She Walked Away Master List

A/N: This was a request by an anon. It struck me almost instantly, and I had to start getting it out. Link Here

Summary: In a world where the line between human and supernatural is razor-thin, Y/N—a Touched of Bastet—was bound by an arranged marriage to Dean Winchester, a hunter who never saw her as anything but a monster. After saving his life and enduring years of rejection, she walked away—cutting ties with both their families and building a hidden sanctuary for outcasts like herself. Two years later, she's a respected leader, protector, and legend among those the world refuses to understand.

Now, as whispers of her growing power reach old allies and enemies alike, Dean—changed, remorseful, and haunted by memories—must face the woman he once cast aside. But forgiveness doesn’t come easy… and the past doesn’t stay buried.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

As always, each chapter will have warnings.

Overall Warnings: Angst, Longing, Pining (if you squint), Dean being Dean - jerk and sweet (eventually), cannon level violence, Doesn't follow the show timeline.

Chapter 1 - The Quiet Before Chapter 2 - Echoes At Dawn Chapter 3 - The Ones Who Stayed Chapter 4 - The One Left Behind More to come...

Touched Master List Main Master List

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[aylacavebear]

DEAN’S ꒰ overwhelming ꒱ GUILT.

𝐶𝑂𝑁𝑇𝐴𝐼𝑁𝑆. blurb, angst (comfort), guilt and blame, shame, wendigo’s, blood (lot’s of it), flashbacks, trauma, reader gets attacked, dean can’t get over the job.

you’d tried to move on, dean hadn’t.

he should’ve never fallen for your begs to go with him. yet? he did. dean fell for your begging to go on that hunt with him and sam, he shouldn’t have caved towards such demands like yours. especially the wanting to go hunting with him. just that one job. and just that one job had you screwed.

you didn’t deserve it, you were a kind girl—you were always sympathetic with the smallest of things. which is part of the reason dean didn’t ever want you to go with him. you were much more safer back at the motel they would stay at, or when they were gathering information at a library , or using the computer.

but actually in the field? no. dean knew that you didn’t belong in such capacity like dean did. he’d been trained since he was a child. he collected you when he was alone, before sam came back to the “family business”. and before hand, before sam came ‘home’, you showed little interest. but, the way sam seemed so—unappreciative about the hints, you had to see for yourself. in the flesh, not locked away like some princess locked away in a tower.

it was a stupid mistake, an innocent one. the one that dean should’ve never made, it was your first hunt for crying out loud. and to split up to cover more ground? stupid— you were hunting a wendigo. he should’ve known better than to suggest it in the first place. maybe it was because he was head set on finishing the job, and that’s why he let you leave with a fuckin’ torch in hand. it was one-o-one what not to do during hunting if hunting certain things; aka a wendigo.

he accursed himself, and the guilt he carried from your incident just had him. dean’s hand would tremble at the sink, looking down at his hands. he didn’t understand on why the hell you moved on so quickly? maybe it was the simple not wanting to be stuck, yeah—but you hadn’t even talked to him about it. dean had heard a snippet of a conversation you had with sam, about dean not moving on. “fuck—” he gritted, the image of your body spinning ever so gently, feet of the ground because your hands were suspended by whatever material the wendigo managed to tie you up with. it was scarred in his memory.

a page he could tear out no matter how many times he tried. and maybe that’s why he was still hanging on to it. because when he saw you suspending in the air in the wendigo’s hideout, culpability chewed at his acid trail in his stomach. butterflies twisting painfully inside. dean still felt your warm sticky blood on his hands, he swore he felt it deep into his skin, infact dean still felt your blood dripping on him.

dean ran his fingers through his hair, bringing his hand down in his peripheral view; blood. so much blood. he could never, ever get rid of it. “get off—get off,” he hissed, roughly scrubbing at his hands with a cloth. his breath was hitched, “god, i’m sorry.” he said, tears building at his eyeline, blurring his eyesight for split seconds. except they wouldn’t stop. your blood on his hands—it couldn’t be there, he’s been scrubbing since last week. it’s been two weeks after your incident.

you nervously knocked on the bathroom door, to talk to dean—you hadn’t had a real conversation since— since forever, it felt like. “dean,” you murmured out hoarsely, “‘m coming in.” you pushed open the door, to see dean viscerally scrubbing his hands like there was no tomorrow. “baby— stop.” you murmured sorrowfully, pushing the rag away.

dean focused on you, looking down at his hands, the blood disappearing. he was going insane—there was just blood, al’over his hands. “it was just there, honey— your blood, all over me, it was just there!” he exclaimed, “‘m not crazy—”

“hey, hey.” you whispered under your breath, “it’s not there, ‘m here, ‘m not dying. and your not crazy.” you brought him in for a hug, before taking his hands in yours to inspect how dry they’ve gotten, “how long have you been washing your hands, dean?”

“i don’t know.” dean whispered, almost pathetically. the comfort of your fingers rubbing his raw hand. it pushed him in a state of sentimental peace. “‘m so tired.” dean said, leaning into your touch, when you shifted, dean held you a little bit more tightly, “can we just stay like this? for a bit?”

[aylacavebear]

🍓 Watch 🍓

Summary: Late night fun in the library

Warnings: Pure smut

Sam x Reader (+ a little bit of Dean 🙈)

~~~

Sam gripped your hips tighter as you bounced on top of him, your head rolling back in a needy moan, his eyes trained on your movements.

You'd been in the library for hours, Sam having you in every way he could- head buried between your legs on the table, bent over roughly thrusting into you, on your knees in front of him as he leant against the wall.

But now he was sat, watching you riding him, his cock stretching you out, your tits bouncing with every motion, a thin layer of sweat covering your naked bodies.

You were too filled with cock to talk, you could barely even think, your whole body filled with the pleasure only he could give you, your eyes rolling back as you let out another moan.

"That's it, princess, keep goin'- your cunt feels so fuckin' good-"

You gripped hold of his shoulders tighter, your nerves on fire, your breath stuck in your throat.

You heard him before he'd even entered the room- Dean- walking down the hallway and straight into the sight of you, riding Sam's cock like it was your own personal rapture.

He stopped in the doorway, unable to move, his feet frozen to the floor. His eyes washed over you, your arched back, your pussy wrapped around Sam's cock, taking him so well.

"Fuck- I-" he stumbled over his words, moving to turn and leave.

"Wait-" Sam murmured, not even looking at him, still staring at your tits in his face, "-she wants you to watch."

[aylacavebear]

just friends

summary: you and dean are out at a bar grabbing drinks with friends like it’s any other night but dean’s close, almost too close and you’re not doing a damn thing about it.

warnings/ tags: smut (mdni), college!au, friends w benefits, no love confessions (sadly), fingering, some dirty talk, public smut, hidden relationship and feelings, sexual tension.

word count: 1.4k (pretty small for me, yes ik..but I’m a tad rusty)

note: I’m back bitches! :) enjoy!

It’s not supposed to be complicated.

That’s what you tell yourself every time you sneak out of Dean's bed before sunrise. Every time you redress in silence and slip past your sleeping friends with flushed skin and sore thighs—pretending that nothing happened.

Friends with benefits. That’s the deal.

No dates. No hand-holding. No stolen glances that mean too much. And it’s been working—for the most part.

Except nights like this.

You’re at your favorite spot downtown, some hole-in-the-wall bar with loud music and warm string lights tangled above the tables. You’re squished into a booth with the usual group, consisting of Jo, Benny, Charlie, and Cas. Everyone's talking over each other with drinks in hand, plates of fries already half-gone.

You’re wearing a dress. Short, soft, and comfortable. A little risky for October, but worth it. You saw Dean’s eyes drop to your legs the second you walked in. He hasn’t said a word about it, but you felt the shift in the air.

Now, you’re pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with him in the booth, thighs touching, your drink sweating in your palm as you try to pretend you’re listening to Charlie’s story about her lab partner. You’re nodding, even laughing but your body is stiff.

Not because you're stressed or anything—but because Dean’s hand is on your thigh.

It started off innocent, honestly. Just resting there, his fingers lightly curled, the way a friend might touch a friend.

But you both know better.

He’s been inching higher for the past ten minutes, casual as anything, like this isn’t dangerous.

No one can see, not from the angle or with the table pressed against your ribs and the flickering shadows hiding his movements. But you can feel him and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

His hand shifts slightly, fingers brushing up your thigh, warm and steady and your breath catches in your throat.

“You okay?” Jo asks, blinking at you.

You force a smile and nod quickly. “Yeah. Just a little warm in here.”

Dean doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t even react. Just keeps sipping his beer, his free hand wrapped lazily around the neck of the bottle while the other, his real focus is sliding slowly beneath the hem of your dress.

Your pulse thuds in your ears and your heartbeat speeds up.

He’s still not touching you where you want him to. He’s toying with you. Circling higher and closer but never quite where you want him. His knuckles brush the inside of your thigh and you shudder, trying to sit still. Trying to not squirm.

So you shoot him a warning glare. But when he finally meets your eyes—his are dark, amused, and possessive?

You swallow hard and shift your legs, trying to squeeze them together. Dean’s hand follows easily, caught between them now, palm pressed against the soft skin just inches from your center.

You lean in toward him, voice quiet and shaky. “Dean.” You warn.

He hums, barely audible. “Problem?”

“You need to stop.”

He grins without looking at you. “You don’t want me to stop.”

He's right...You think. But here? In front of your friends? That's a whole new level.

His touch and the fact that you're in public, surrounded by your friends, feeling Dean's hand has you soaked. There’s nothing between you but a pair of thin lace panties and whatever control you’ve got left—which is crumbling fast.

Dean shifts again, his hand sliding higher, fingers brushing just under the edge of your underwear now and your breath leaves you in a slow, shaking exhale and you grip your drink tighter, knuckles white.

You glance up to Charlie still talking, Cas asking Jo a random question, and Benny’s leaned back with a lazy grin, completely oblivious—you hope.

But then Dean’s hand slips beneath your panties, bringing you back to what is going on and you choke on your drink, causing eyes to quickly snap onto you with concern.

“Jesus, you okay?” Benny says, reaching for a napkin.

“Yeah,” you cough. “Wrong pipe.”

Dean doesn’t move. Not even when he presses two fingers right there—just enough pressure to make you see stars. Your hips twitch and you cross your legs tighter, trapping his hand in place, but it only makes it worse.

He curls his fingers ever so slightly and leans in, lips brushing your ear. “You wore this dress just for me, didn’t you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. So he nudges your panties aside and the cold air hits your soaked heat in an instant. He groans softly, barely a sound but you hear it. “Fuck, you’re already wet.”

Your thighs shake and you stare at your glass, willing yourself to keep breathing while his fingers slide through your slick folds. He doesn’t push inside you just yet. He's teasing you. Still playing his game and you shift again, pressing your hips into his hand, silently begging.

Dean tuts softly. “Needy.”

You shoot him another glare but he only smirks before giving you what you want. His finger slips inside, slow and smooth, just one and your breath catches. He moves it slowly, curling upward, then pulls back and adds a second. You clamp your teeth around a whimper and dig your nails into the seat beneath you.

“Doing so good,” he murmurs. “Sittin’ still like that. What would they say if they knew, huh? That you’re dripping around my fingers while Cas talks about his psych exam?”

“Dean,” you gasp.

“Yeah, baby?”

Your thighs tremble and your skin feels too tight. Your eyes are glassy and you’re so close it’s painful.

Dean curls his fingers again, just the slightest motion, and your hips twitch involuntarily. You shouldn’t be like this—not here. Not in public. But your body doesn’t care. It’s reacting to him like it always does—instinctively, desperately, completely.

And he presses his palm against your clit, not rubbing, just pressing, grounding you with that solid weight.

Your vision blurs for half a second and your breath hitches in your throat. You grip the edge of the table so hard your knuckles ache.

He leans in, his mouth just barely brushing your ear. His voice is calm but dangerous. “Gonna come just like this?” he whispers. “In your little dress, right here at the table?”

You can’t answer. Can’t breathe. All you can do is hold on as Dean’s fingers fuck into you slow and deep, his palm now dragging tight circles against your clit.

He’s doing it on purpose. Drawing it out—keeping you right on the edge.

You whimper softly—barely audible, but he hears it.

“Quiet,” he says, lips still at your ear. “You make a sound and I stop.”

You nod frantically, digging your nails into your thigh and casting a quick glance to your friends still sitting around you.

Jo and Charlie are still deep in conversation. While Cas is arguing with Benny over whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie. But no one suspects a thing. Thank God—because no one sees how Dean has you right there—blushing, panting, thighs shaking while he works you from the inside out.

Your dress has ridden up just enough to let him move without resistance, his wrist shifting with each slow thrust of his fingers. You’re dripping around him, muscles fluttering, begging for release.

“Dean,” you breathe, “please—please—”

His hand slows for a second and your breath stutters. “No,” you gasp, shaking your head, eyes wide. “Don’t stop, Dean, I swear—”

He smiles against your skin. “Then come for me.”

That’s all it takes. Your legs seize around his hand, muscles clenching tight as heat rushes through you—white-hot and overwhelming. You bury your face in his shoulder to keep from crying out, your body trembling so hard the table rattles.

Dean holds you through it, fingers still moving, gentler now, coaxing you through the waves.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

It takes a full minute before you can breathe again. And before you realize your nails left crescents in the vinyl seat, that your drink is untouched--that the conversation has kept going without you, blissfully unaware. Dean finally withdraws his hand, slowly and slides your panties back into place, straightens the hem of your dress like a gentleman—like he didn’t just ruin you in the middle of a crowded bar.

You turn your face slightly, hiding your dazed, flushed expression behind the curtain of your hair and Dean licks his fingers while meeting your gaze.

You nearly whimper again at the sight and Dean slides his arm back across the booth, settling like nothing happened.

Like his fingers don’t still glisten faintly.

Like your heart isn’t trying to beat out of your chest.

And you reach for your drink with a shaky hand, trying to pretend your entire body isn’t still humming from the aftershock.

Dean glances at you once more—smug, satisfied, and already plotting what he’ll do to you when he gets you alone.

And God help you, you can’t wait.

author’s note:

hii guys! thank y’all so much for being patient with me during this time! I’ve finally managed to write this little one shot after almost a 2 month hiatus! 🫠 I’m definitely in the mood to write but now it’s about finding the time to 😅 (I barely even have time to eat lmfaoo)

I should have some more fics coming out but I can’t promise how often it will be. I am going to try to work on requests as well and hopefully get those out to you guys!

anywaaaays— I hope y’all enjoyed this one! ❤︎

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[aylacavebear]

im sorry i need like FILTHY sex with dean, like cum everywhere, spit, literally anything but he's whispering the sweetest words to u while he does it JDISKSKSKSJ

cw: smut.ᐟ oral [f.receiving].ᐟ messy sex [p in v].ᐟ stubble!dean.ᐟ praise kink.ᐟ pet names [sweetheart, baby].ᐟ overstimulation.ᐟ 18+

hii anon, I hope this was filthy enough for youuu ㅤ♡ྀི

it starts with his mouth. not a sweet kiss. not even a word. just dean dropping to his knees and dragging you towards the edge of the bed by your ankles. he’s spreading your legs like he’s starving and you’re the only goddamn thing that could satisfy him.

“lemme have it, baby, please” he mutters, voice low and hot against your inner thigh, as he kisses his way up. “been such a long day f’me, fuck, you don’t even know.”

you don’t even have a chance to answer, not really. he’s already burying his face between your legs, tongue flat and wide as he licks up your slit, slow and heavy. groaning like he’s a kid in a fucking candy store.

“such a pretty pussy. i don’t know if i wanna fuck it or eat it” he murmurs in between. try and act like that didn’t have you even wetter than before.

his stubble is rough, from a few days grown out. and it’s mean. scratching at your skin with every pass of his jaw. it leaves your thighs red and raw, clit swollen from the friction, sensitive to the point of delirium.

he doesn’t even try to be gentle with it, sucking on you, like he’s trying to leave a permanent mark of red, puffy and used.

“fuck dean—” you gasp, fisting the sheets with clumsy hands. your hips jerk when he sucks your clit into his mouth, nose pressed firm against your slit.

but dean doesn’t stop until you’re sobbing and messy. until your thighs are sticky, shining and scratched up from his stubble. until your clit’s so overstimulated it twitches when he does so much as breathe on it.

only then does he lick each finger clean, looking up at you with those wrecked green eyes and a slick-smiled face, and say “think she’s ready for me now, sweetheart” with a little pat pat to your clit.

before you know it you hear the clink of dean’s belt while you’re still catching your breath, creamy rivulets down your inner thighs.

“c’mon,” he grunts, tugging you by the hips like you weigh nothing. “turn around f’me, baby. lemme see that perfect ass.”

you’re hazy but compliant. letting him flip you like a rag doll. your chest hits the mattress, back arched as invitation. dean rubs your slick onto the flushed tip of his pretty fat cock, spreading it like lube and pushes every inch of himself inside until your breath stutters and every little whine and mewl is muffled into the pillow.

“there we go, baby, just like that, s’my fuckin’ girl” he encourages. looking down to see your cunt stretch around the base of him, how perfect you always mold around his cock, even after a few days away on a hunt.

his hips roll, slow at first. wet, loud, and sloppy. every thrust sounded obscene, the room filled with nothing but slick and choked-off gasps slipping from your mouth.

“got the prettiest pussy” he mutters, leaning over your back, stubble scraping your shoulder as he mouths along your skin. “got ‘er all stretched open n’ full of me, s’how it should be.”

you whine something incoherent, words jumbling into moans. he’s always been— gifted we’ll say, and good at taking care of you, but every time felt like the first.

dean’s hands were so tight on your hips, you knew he'd leave bruises tomorrow. eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fucked you into your orgasm, not even sure which one you were on at this point.

and when he flips you into another position, on your back, thighs pushed into your chest, ankles resting on his wide shoulders. when you ask if he’s ‘done’ or that “it’s too much,” with drool falling from your mouth.

your met with him bracing a palm over your throat, just a reminder that your his. that his next hunt wouldn’t be so long. and a “i know baby. i know” looking into your cock-drunk eyes.

he wants to see every inch of your creamy skin marked by him. whether it’s his cum, bruising from his lips, or the chafe of his stubble, it’s all the same in his eyes.

so that’s why he’s pulling out last second. pumping thick white stripes on your belly, tits, and your soppy ruined cunt. he makes sure you can feel it drip, slow and hot.

it’s pooling against your clit. a line of his seed clings to your slit and seeps down between your cheeks. another trails down your belly until it settles into the dip of your navel, warm and wet.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he whispers, breathless. “look at you. my pretty baby covered in me.” like he’s in awe of what he did.

dean’s got you cleaning his cock off with your mouth, tasting your combined releases. any and— every reminder that you’re his for keeping.

divider creds

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes @deanstubble @sunnyteume @titsout4jackles @sunnyfuffly @deansbeer @littlejackles @beforeroachfalls @capkatie @kamisobsessed @piertomaximoffsgirl

[aylacavebear]

The Date

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: after your first date with Dean, you invite him into your place.

Warnings: mdni 18+. smut. oral (m receiving). making out. male masturbation.

A/N: my friend had an experience and so I turned it into a Dean fic for her. you're welcome boo

masterlist — taglist

The movie ended, the screen fading to black as the credits rolled. You barely remembered what the plot was, you may have fell asleep halfway through. You felt comfortable though, and that doesn't happen often. The way his arm had rested behind you, how his fingers had lightly traced over your shoulder, how he smelled—cheap whiskey and leather.

Afterwards, the ride back was silent, but loud. He looked so good. You tried not to stare but you couldn't help it.

"See somethin' ya like, sweetheart?" He smirks.

"Maybe I do."

By the time you got back to your place, the building tension had reached a boiling point.

Dean leaned against the door as you unlocked it, that smirk still on his face.

"You comin' in?" You ask.

"You always invite guys in after a date?"

"Only the hot ones that I can't stop lookin' at."

His eyes darkened. He stepped forward without hesitation, closing the distance between you. His hands went to your hips, pulling you against him as his mouth found yours, rough, hungry, and entirely too much to handle all at once.

You kicked the door shut behind him and dragged him to your bed room, straddling him as he sits on the edge of your bed, your lips never parting. His tongue exploring every inch of your mouth.

He turned, lifting you as if you weigh nothing as he lays you on the bed, but before he can undo your jeans you stop him.

"Wait...I—um...I'm on my period—"

"Okay. That's fine, if you're not comfortable with it, we won't do anything too much," Dean says, gently.

You nod and he presses his lips to yours again. You can feel him straining against his jeans, so you reach your hand between the two of you, palming him through his jeans.

"Fuck, sweetheart—" He hisses through gritted teeth.

"Is this okay?" You ask, your voice soft, as you begin to undo his belt.

"Yeah." He whispers against your lips, kissing you slowly.

He rolls you both so you're on top of him, you unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down, tugging them gently to take out his, hard, leaking cock.

You lean down taking the tip of him in your mouth slowly, swirling your tongue around, getting a taste of him.

His hand finds your hair, not pulling, but just to grab onto something as you take him completely in your mouth, running your tongue over his slit as you come back up.

You spit down onto him before taking him back into your mouth, setting a steady pace.

"Fuck—" He groans, his hand tightening in your hair slightly as his hips buck up once, his cock hitting the back of your throat, but you keep going.

"Goddamn sweetheart, I ain't gonna last—"

You hum in response, the vibration making his hips buck up again, his hand tightening in your hair.

"Yeah, sweetheart, just like that—"

You feel him twitch in your mouth before warm white hot ropes of cum hit the back of your throat as you swallow it all down.

Dean lays there catching his breayh, "Fuck...that was..."

You chuckle as you move up to lay next to him.

He turns over to face you, "you're somethin' else sweetheart."

He leans in and presses his lips to yours again, shifting so he's on top of you as his tongue slides into your mouth again.

His one hand finds the headboard above you, his other reaching between the two of you, wrapping around himself as he jerks himself, his mouth never leaving yours.

The kiss was sloppy, hot, and wet as your tongues and teeth collided.

He groans into your mouth, pulling back slightly "M'gonna cum on you, that okay?"

You nod.

He let out a low sound, almost a growl as he kisses you again, his hand working himself faster.

You pull away, needing to catch your breath from the kiss, as his head falls back and he moans your name as he spills onto your stomach.

"Damn—" He says breathlessly with a soft chuckle, "Where the hell have you been all my life?"

You let out a breathy chuckle as he climbs off of you, moving to your bathroom to get something to clean you up.

Oh yeah, there definitely will be another date.

A/N: Wrote this quick and didn't edit it. But I hope it's good anyways!

taglist: @animelucky @mystic-writings @magster196 @soldierboysdoll @skywalker0809 @winchesterwild78 @cas-is-my-angel7 @mostlymarvelgirl @chevroletdean @waynes-multiverse @sunshinegirlreads

[aylacavebear]

thinking about; dean sneaking into your bed at night

dean winchester masterlist!!

full masterlist!!

pairings: dean x f!reader (not established)

genre: fluff

author's note: if you saw a typo, no you didn't. i wrote this instead of sleeping so enjoy!! <{•_•}>

when sharing a motel room with you and sam, dean always finds a way to sneak into your bed at night.

usually, for a double room, either you and sam share and dean goes alone or sam and dean share and you go alone. on the rare occasion, you and dean share, and boy, were you happy when this happened.

but on the times you're alone, which is more often than not, he waits until sam is quietly snoring beside him before slipping out of the covers and creeping over to your bed. then, he sneaks in behind you.

despite being deeply and madly in love with you, he never goes to hold you until you make the first move, so sometimes he is waiting hours until you turn over and sling an arm around his torso before hiking your leg over him; but sometimes you lay awake, waiting for him, and as soon as he's in bed, you're on him.

dean then winds his arms around you and doesn't let you go for the whole night. he'll usually either spoon you or have you sprawled across his chest, but some nights, especially after a hard hunt, he'll let you hold him and stroke his hair and whisper things in his ear until he drifts off.

on the off chance that dean has a nightmare? you're right there beside him, ready to hug him and hold him and tell him it will be okay. you never pry for information, you just assure him that it was just a dream and you and sam will protect him.

when you wake up, sam is never surprised—in fact, sometimes he fake snores to watch dean sneak into your bed so he can mock him about being lovestruck in the morning.

you love waking up in dean's arms, mostly because the second you open your eyes, he's there with a smile, but also because he's just so warm. sam will have to basically pry you from dean's arms if it's a particularly cold morning—and of course dean loves watching your sleepy form grab onto him and hold him tight while sam tugs the duvet from you both. it reminds him that there are at least two people on this godforsaken planet that love him, and he is very happy that those two people and you and sam.

but when in the bunker?

dean is a different man when he's in the confines of the bunker. every single night, at the same time, his bed will end up cold and yours will end up warm, cosy, and full of love as he will have found his way to you again. sometimes you wait up for him to creak the door open and make his way to you in the dark, and sometimes you don't, but you always welcome him and hug him tight.

sam has started going straight to your room to wake you both up as he knows he won't get an answer at all if he tries dean's room first. he's grown wise, and although he thinks it's strange that you and dean are still not 'official', he lets you two bask in the happiness.

dean is definitely a lot happier now that he can trust you and sam, and he's sure showing the effects. he looks young again, with the dark bags under his eyes disappearing completely and his cheeks regaining a warm tint. his eyes also shine brighter, if that's possible.

one thing is for sure, if dean has started sneaking into your bed at night, then he's definitely in love with you.

[aylacavebear]

My girl | D.W

Girldad!Dean Winchester x Babysitter!Reader

MDNI

Wordcount: 3,054

Warnings: One (1) use of Y/N, Use of pet names, Filth, Teasing!Dean, Fluff, SMUTT, Jealous!Dean, Overstimulation, Creampie, Unprotected pinv, First 'I love you', Use of daddy, Daddy kink, Brief mention of Naive!Reader, DBF!Dean, Age gap (reader is 20, Dean is late 30s), Possessive!Dean, Oral (f & m rec), Belt as restraint, I think that's all! lmk

A/N: Went to the pool while on vacation, all I could think about was Dean Winchester, Thus ' My girl ' was born. Straight jorkin' my it. Written as a part two to this, but can be read as a standalone!

Since that night, Dean has tried everything in his power to stay close to you. So here you were, every Wednesday and Sunday, in his home watching his little girl. Sometimes it was more often, that is if you didn’t work that day, but 2 days a week steadily. You quickly fell into the routine Dean had set up in his home. Wake up Cassie at 7, so she could have breakfast by 8, and be out the door by 9. Dean would leave for work at 10, and be back at 6-7 depending on the day. Cassie would come home from school at 3, and have a bath and dinner by 6, so Dean could tuck her in when he came home. He watched how you cared for not just Cassie, but him too. Always a fresh plate of food, tucked away just for him to have when he got off. The way the house was cleaner than it was when he left. And the way you fit just perfectly into his little family.

Today was a warm Sunday. You had texted Dean to ask if he minded for you and Cassie to go swim. When he said he didn’t mind, you packed up a tote bag full of everything you would need at the pool. After you had gotten Cassie dressed in her swimsuit, you changed into a black ruffle one piece with skinny straps. In the woven bag, you packed snacks and sandwiches, sunscreen, and an extra change of clothes for Cassie. Grabbing everything, you put the extra car seat into your back seat, and packed everything up. “You ready to go swim kiddo?” You asked the girl as you buckled her in, “Mhm gonna play mermaids!” She said excitedly. “Yes we are!” You smiled at the child, closing the car door and getting in, turning the ignition. 

It wasn’t a long drive to the pool, maybe 20 or so minutes. Dean had messaged you that he was trying to get off early to come by, but wasn’t sure if he’d make it. Texting back a reply, you grabbed the tote bag, and a hold of Cassie’s little hand and walked to the gate. A few families scattered across the public pool. You and Cassie opted for a quieter corner by the kiddie pool. Taking off your cover-up, you sat on the edge of the shallow pool as you watched Cassie play.

 A few minutes had passed, when a little boy, around Cassie’s age approached her to play. Being the sweetheart she is, she quickly accepted the offer and the two of them splashed around. “Tucker, what’cha doin’ over here buddy?” A man around Dean’s age came after the little boy, “Playing daddy.” The boy mumbled and the man smiled at him. “Sorry for the incordial invite, I’m Cole.” You awkwardly smiled at his attempt to introduce himself. Introducing yourself, you gestured to the little girl. “This is Cassie.” You muttered, glancing over to her. “This is Tucker, it seems like you already met him though.” He said through a laugh and you smiled, “Yep, I think they are playing mermaids.” You smiled as you attempted to make small talk. “Is she yours?” Cole asked and you shook your head, “No, she's a great kid, but I’m just babysitting.” He nodded. 

The two of you talked for a bit as the kids played. “I’m hungry.” Cassie said, tugging on the ruffle of your swimsuit, “Me too.” Tucker said, swimming up to Cassie. “I have sandwiches in my bag, he’s welcome to have one.” You offered and Cole nodded, “That would be great, thanks.” The kids sat on the edge of the pool, stuffing their little faces full of PB&J sandwiches. You and Cole sat not far, on the chairs behind them. 

The whole time Cole had been subtly flirting, but maybe you were too naive to realize. But you definitely realized when he asked, “You got a boyfriend or something?”. At first you didn’t know how to answer. No you don’t have a boyfriend, but. Or maybe, Not officially but I did sleep with the dad I babysit for. No not that either, instead you responded with this, “It’s complicated.”. Cole nodded, “Right, it’s one of those.”. At first you were taken aback, sitting back with your eyebrows knitted together, “What do you mean ‘one of those’?” It’s always better to ask, than assume, but unfortunately this time, your assumption was correct. “One of those, ‘It’s complicated’, ‘I lead men on’ situations.”. You swore you saw red, but before you could answer, someone answered for you. “I’m not being led on. I think she just don’t wanna hurt your feelings buddy.” Dean muttered from behind you. Your face flushed with embarrassment at the situation. “Ain’t that right sweetheart?” Dean asked, turning your face to look at him you nodded. “See, not complicated at all.” Cole stood up from the chair in front of you, clearly taking the hint. Both him and Tucker walked away. 

Cassie stood up, sandwich still in hand, to greet her father. “Daddy!” She shrieked, hugging his leg. “Hey baby girl, you havin’ a good time?” He asked, dropping his hand to cup her head, “Mhm! We played mermaids.” Dean smiled at the little girl, “That’s great baby.” Dean looked over at you, “You havin’ a good time sweetheart?” Not trusting your voice, all you could do was smile and nod.

Coming back home after the pool, you gave Cassie a bath. Afterwards, the two of you started on dinner. “How do you feel about homemade pizza?” You asked the little girl, “So good.” She answered. You mixed up the dough and allowed it to rise. Cassie rolled out, or tried to roll out the dough as you cut up the pepperonis and shredded the cheese. As you and Cassie prepped in the kitchen, Dean waltzed in with his signature charm, “What are my girls makin’ for dinner?”. Your face flushed hot at the mention. “Pizza!” Cassie said excitedly as she mushed her hands into the dough. Dean took notice of your reaction to his words. Coming up behind you and rolling up the sleeves of the hoodie you put on after the pool, “Makin’ a mess of this poor sweater baby.”. Dean knew the effect he had on you, and the way your face turned a now bright shade of red, it was even more evident. 

Dinner had come and gone, Cassie insisted on having her pizza by the slice and not cut up this time. Inevitably, despite her being a ‘big girl’ Dean still had to cut it up. One little girl tucked into bed later, you and Dean started to clean up the kitchen. “What was that about earlier?” You asked Dean as he cleared the plates into the trash. “What was what?” He shrugged it off, knowing what you meant by the question. “At the pool Dean..” You trailed off, wiping up stray flour from earlier. “Why j’want his number or somethin’?” He asked defensively. You stood up, “No–Dean of course not.” You muttered, tossing the dish towel on the counter. “Okay then what’s the problem?” He asked, crossing his arms. God. His arms. Practically bursting out of his t-shirt. “I’ve just–I’ve never seen you so jealous.” His eyes went darker at your realization. “Don’t like sharin’” He muttered, growling almost.

Your eyes went wide at his admission, and your panties got started to soak through the white lace hidden beneath your shorts. “What? Did j’like that sweetheart?” He watched as you squirmed under his gaze, stepping towards you. “Like when I talk dirty to you baby?” Dean echoed, caging you in. His hands dipped down to your waist, grip tight on you as he hoisted you onto the counter. “Dean–” You whimper under his touch. “Ah ah pretty girl–wanna watch you squirm for me.” Dean chuckled lowly, brushing your hair off your neck and to the side. He pressed his lips to your neck, days old stubble scratching against your soft skin. Trailing down your neck Dean worked skillfully, pressing his palm between your thighs. “You like when I call you mine don’t ya?” He teased, rubbing his thumb over the center of your shorts while you stifled a moan. 

The ghost of his touch was enough to drive you crazy. Squirming under him, all you needed was his touch. Something, more. “Dean please–” You whined, looking up at him with blown pupils. “Please what baby?” He teased, knowing his effect on you. “Touch me..” You begged, “Oh but I am touchin’ ya sweet girl.” Dean pet your hair, rubbing his other thumb across your cheek. “Gotta tell me what you want..” He mocked, wanting you to say it. “You Dean–anything.” He smirked with that signature cocky grin of his, satisfied with your answer. “We’re gonna do this right this time, okay?” He asked and you nodded, not entirely sure what he meant by that, but trusting him nonetheless. Pulling your legs around his waist, you took the hint and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his neck. Dean wasted no time picking you up off the counter, without any sign of struggle, like you weighed practically nothing. 

Taking you down the hall and into his bedroom, he laid you down on his bed. “I’ve never been in here before.” You muttered, watching him pull his shirt over his head, leaving it to pool in the floor. “First time for everything.” He smiled down at you, still clad in your too-big sweatshirt and tiny little sleep shorts that you changed into after the pool. Sinking a knee into the bed, he crawled up to you, still in his jeans. “Wearin’ too many clothes.” He muttered from above you. Helping him strip you down, you laid in his bed covered only by the lace of your underwear. Your arms instinctively shoot up to cover yourself and he tsked, “Too pretty to be hidin’ like that sugar.” 

Pulling your hands from your chest, he held your wrists above your head. “You like to be tied up?” Dean asked and your face flushed red, “I don’t–I don’t know.” You mumbled quietly, voice almost in a whisper. “You wanna try pretty girl? S’okay if you don’t want me to.” He reassured you, your wrist still in his hold. “Yes, I trust you.” A dark grin spread over his face at your words. Wasting no more time, he pulled his belt from his jeans with his free hand. Retrieving the leather in one fluid movement. With skilled hands, he wraps the leather belt around your wrists, then the headboard. Pulling the slack, so you were restrained. “Too tight?” He asked, and you shook your head, “No t’s good.” You said shyly, your whole body on display. “God you’re so pretty sprawled out for me.” He said under his breath. Sinking down further to the end of the bed, he hooked his arms under your thighs. Pressing a wet, open-mouth kiss to your lace-clad core. “This where you need me sweetheart?” You choked out a moan, “Yes–god please Dean.” He grinned, pulling the fabric to the side. His tongue dipped into you and he groaned against your heat. Getting immediately hypnotised by the way you writhed beneath him, and your taste on his tongue.

You pulled against the restraints, but of course had no luck. All you could do was lie there, and take it. Dean grinded into the plush of the mattress, drawing out groans from both you and him. With a scream of his name you came. Dean didn’t let up, no, this was for his enjoyment, he was marking what was his. “Please Dean–I can’t” You cried out, and he lapped mercilessly. His eyes met yours, sending you over the edge again. White heat hitting like a wave, harder than just minutes ago. Sitting up, Dean drug the back of his palm against his mouth, wiping the slick from his now puffy lips. “Too much?” He asked face flushed. You weakly shook your head, thighs still shaking with the after shock from your orgasm. “God it was perfect.” You said breathlessly, chest heaving up and down. Dean leaned over you, untangling you from the leather and the headboard. Discarding his belt to the floor, he brought your wrists to his mouth, kissing the red marks from the belt. “Did so good for me princess.” He muttered, dropping your wrists and leaning down to kiss your lips. His tongue dipped in your mouth and you moaned against the kiss, at the taste of yourself mixed with him. The kiss made you dizzy. 

Just as Dean started to unbutton his jeans, to give you what you really wanted, a cry was heard from upstairs. Cassie. Dean quickly buttoned up his jeans, and you grabbed his shirt from the floor, pulling it on as you both ran up the steps. “You okay baby girl?” He asked, brushing the top of Cassie’s head. Her puffy eyes looked up at you standing in the doorway. “Bad dream.” She mumbled, your heart ached at her little face as Dean held her close. 

—

Following that night, you and Cassie had come up with a fun activity to do while Dean was at work. Heading out to Michael’s, one little girl in tow. You bought a plain white shirt and some fabric markers. One quick stop to Mcdonald’s and a happy meal later, you and Cassie sat at the kitchen table with markers strewn out over the table. Cassie scribbled on the white t-shirt. “Daddy’s gonna be home soon, you almost done?” You asked the little girl as she added her last finishing touches. Her little tongue darted past her lips in concentration as she finished. “Done!” Cassie said proudly. “Looks so good kiddo! He’s gonna love it.” You smiled back at her, as she beamed up at you. 

—

Dean came home a bit later, dropping his keys in the dish as he kicked off his boots at the door. “Where are my girls?” He yelled out, his voice echoing through the house. Heading into the kitchen he saw the shirt laid neatly on the table. Colorful scribbles decorated the shirt and a picture of a family adorned the bottom. Arrows pointed at the stick figures. Dean first, Cassie in the middle, and you. He smiled at the drawing on the fabric and headed to the living room. You and Cassie were curled up on the couch, various snacks scattered on the coffee table in front of you. The little girl had her head resting on your shoulder as she hummed, sound asleep. “Got through Frozen, and like half of Pochahontas.” You smiled up at Dean as he leaned down, uncovering the little girl so he could pick her up. “Sounds like you two had fun, huh?” He asked as his arms snaked under Cassie’s sleeping frame, before standing up. “Mhm, she said she wanted to make something for daddy, then we had a movie night.” His face went hot at your words. He felt like something was awoken in him the way that slipped off your lips. Like he shouldn’t have the reaction he did.

“M’gonna take her to her room, I’ll be back.” He muttered, his face unreadable. For a second you were worried, until you realized what had made him react the way he did. He disappeared down the hall, to tuck Cassie in, before walking heavily down the steps. He walked past you, heading to the fridge in the kitchen. His hand wrapped around the thin neck of a glass bottle. Popping off the top, and walking over to the couch. He plopped down and sunk into the couch, his legs spread wide and your throat went dry. You watched as he brought the bottle to his lips and threw his head back for a drink. He sighed out as he swallowed. “Long day?” You asked, scooting closer to Dean as he wrapped his arm around you, “Sweetheart you have no idea.” He muttered like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. And you? All you wanted to do was take a little of that load off him, in more ways than one. Sinking to your knees, between his legs you fumble with his belt. “Shit–what’re you doin’ baby?” He asked as he sunk a little deeper into the couch, his grasp so tight on the neck of that bottle it's a wonder it didn't break.

“Just relax Dean, let me take care of you.” He groans at your words, throwing his head back to rest on the edge of the couch as your lips wrapped around the head of his cock. “Fuck–” He cursed under his breath as you took him in your mouth inch by inch. Tortuously slow, sinking further and further down until your nose brushed against the patch of hair at the base of his cock. “Jesus–fuck.” He whined out, hips bucking up. Pulling off him with a pop, you looked up at him with glassy eyes. Bringing your thumb to your lips, you wiped off spit from around your mouth.

Crawling into his lap, you hover over him as he takes hold of your hips. Pulling your underwear to the side, he guides you down onto his cock. Spearing you onto him, you gasp “Fuck–daddy please.” You whine out and Dean swore he saw God. His cock twitched at your words as you sunk down onto him. “Goddamn you’re gonna kill me if you keep talking like that.” He groaned, grinding down your hips onto him. His pace picked up, thrusting up into you, “Daddy–I’m so–Fuck–Close.” You cried out as you rode him, “C’mon baby let go for me.” His words egged you on as you came. Vision giving out for a moment at the velocity. You slumped against him as he pumped up into you a few more times before spilling inside of you. He groaned as he came down from his high, looking down at you before your eyes met his. “I love you Dean.” You muttered, eyes brimmed with tears. Dean just smiled warmly at your admission, “Love you too sweetheart.”.

And now, his dream came true, and his little family was finally complete.