emeraldcrs

[emeraldcrs]

need to do this with soldier boy

[emeraldcrs]

girls who wear cute underwear specifically for you deserve to be eaten out like they’re your last meal on death row

[emeraldcrs]

cw: smut.ᐟ video call teasing.ᐟ soft dom!ben.ᐟ spanking.ᐟ cockwarming.ᐟ reverse cowgirl.ᐟ degradation kink.ᐟ punishment.ᐟ possessive!ben.ᐟ filthy talk.ᐟ power play.ᐟ pet names [good girl, baby, sweetheart, slut].ᐟ 18+

#notes: sorry not sorry for this ovulation week post.

all i can think about is giving ben a boner while he’s on call…

“fucking stop it.” ben’s voice is quiet, almost a growl behind gritted teeth.

you hum all sweet under your breath, sliding past where he’s sitting on the couch, feet propped up, laptop balanced on one thigh.

the vought executives are babbling about something— some boring new endorsement offers, which fucking comic line they want him to smile for next.

and ben’s trying to stay still.

but you— you’ve got that smug little bounce in your step. his shirt hanging loose off one shoulder, hem just barely covering your ass. no bra. no panties. he knows, because every time you bend down, you flash him that pretty little cunt like it’s an ‘accident’. and now you’re really playing with him.

you lean over the arm of the couch to ‘grab something’— stretched out, your ass jiggling right near his lap. and ben’s eyes drop like a moth to a flame. the shirt rides up just enough. soft thighs, creamy skin, the outline of your pussy lips parting as you bend.

his cock throbs. fuck, he’s pulsing. he has been for the last twenty-minutes.

he shifts in his seat, crossing his ankles tighter, like that’ll stop the aching throb under his zipper. like his cock isn’t already swelling against the seam of his pants, leaking, begging for friction.

you glance over your shoulder like you didn’t notice. as if you didn’t just ruin his fucking train of thought for the tenth time since this call started.

“jesus fucking christ,” ben mutters under his breath, jaw tightening. and the voice on call drones on.

you walk by again, fingertips trailing through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his temple like it’s nothing.

he fucking twitches in place, eyes flutter. cock dribbling pre-cum against the confines of his boxers.

you act like you have no clue what you’re doing to him— but you do. and it’s on purpose.

he can feel it. you’re prancing around, all sweet smiles and little sighs, pretending you’re just tidying up, just folding laundry, just making tea— but your hips swing like you want him to stare. your body brushes against his arm every pass like you need him to snap.

“i said, fuckin’ stop it,” he hisses, yanking his mic on mute. “you wanna be a brat? keep pushin’ and see what happens when this ends.”

and you giggle in response.

his hips rut up once— subtlety, hips bucking, grinding down into the heel of his palm as discreetly as he can. and he’s a fucking mess.

every breath is a fight now. every shift of your body sets him off. then you drop a tea towel and bend down slow, reaching for it like you’re in a vintage pinup calendar.

your thighs part. his shirt lifts. and he sees everything— wet, bare pussy. the sound that rips out of his throat is nothing more than feral. he turns his camera off, doesn’t log out, doesn’t even wait for the call to end. just flips the laptop shut and stands.

“nah, fuck this,” he snarls. and before you can turn around, he’s on you. grabs your wrist, yanks you over his thigh like a ragdoll, and tears the shirt up your back.

“you think this is funny?” his voice is rough in your ear, fingers curling tight around your hips. “you think i’m gonna sit there with my dick hard for forty fuckin’ minutes while you wag your ass in my face?”

your legs kick, half a squeal, half a gasp— but he’s already tugging your shirt up.

his hand slaps down hard across your bare ass. you jolt with a cry, stinging heat blooming where his palm lands.

“should spank this little cunt too,” he growls, voice full of need. “maybe that’ll remind you what happens when you act like a fuckin’ tease.”

his cock grinds against your hip now. stiff, heavy, still trapped in his pants, like a fucking prisoner.

another smack.

this time lower. right across your pussy lips. your head’s woozy bent over his lap. he grabs your thighs and holds you still.

“no,” he grits. “you wanted attention. now you’re fuckin’ gettin’ it.”

he spanks again— over your cunt, sharper this time. the sound it makes was nothing shy of slick and wet.smearing your own arousal on yourself.

you’re moaning now. clenching around nothing, skin prickling, whining under your breath as he rubs his palm over the red-hot fat of your ass cheeks.

“better start apologizing, sweetheart,” ben mutters. “or m’gonna put you on call next time. make you sit on my cock and let ‘em see exactly how much of a mess you make when you act like a slut in my house.”

you squirm in his grip, lips parted, breath catching— because he’s serious, you don’t doubt that for a second. there’s a fire in his voice that makes your cunt pulse.

he smacks your cunt again, harder, right on your clit. your breath leaves in a shaky whimper.

“yeah, s’what i thought,” he mutters. “needy little cunts always gotta be stuffed, huh? can’t even behave when i’m workin’. just gotta walk around beggin’ like a goddamn slut.”

his words burn, dragging slick through your core— your clit throbbing under the pressure of his hand.

“you wanted attention?” he rasps, grabbing your jaw so you’re forced to look at him, lip trembling under his grip. “you got it. now take your fuckin’ punishment like a good girl.”

you whimper like a petulant child. hips twitching with no relief. your thighs ache from being spread across his lap, but he doesn’t let up. again and again. until you’re babbling out nonsense, tears prickling at your lashes, hips rolling involuntarily toward the heat of his hand.

“squirming, beggin’ for it. that’s what you wanted, huh? wanted me to break focus and remind you who owns this fuckin’ cunt?”

“yes,” you gasp out, a sob caught in your throat. “yes— i’ll be good, i promise.”

his hand stills on your ass, gripping tight. “damn right you will.”

and then without warning— he lifts you. makes a noise low in his chest as he stands, arms like steel under your thighs, your body limp with arousal and submission.

he drops back onto the cushions and pulls you onto his lap, facing away, back flush against his muscular chest. one big hand pushes your thighs apart, the other wraps tight around your waist as he lines his cock up— pressing the fat red head between your slick lips.

he drags it through over and over until the shaft is soaking in your mess. and then he sinks you down on him. all of him, all at once. no warning, just thick veiny cock stretching you full.

you gasp. your thighs shake. your nails scrape down his forearms as your hips jerk. but he holds you still. buries you there, locked in place.

“shhh,” he murmurs, nose nuzzling behind your ear. “m’not done workin’.”

your breath hitches. “w— what?”

he reaches for the laptop with one hand, camera flipped open again, mic toggled on. his cock throbs deep inside you, unmoving. so thick, the ache becoming unbearable to sit still.

“you’re gonna sit there nice and pretty,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “keep my cock warm while i finish this bullshit.”

you start to wiggle, feeling him nudging at your cervix— but his arm tightens instantly, holding you still.

“uh—uh,” he warns, voice dark and delicious. “you move, and you’re gettin’ bent over this couch once i hang up.” then, almost a whisper—“behave, baby.”

and just like that, the meeting resumed. his voice is calm, his tone, smooth. ben’s got that charming smile and the excuse that you’re just ‘joining in’ for the meeting with him.

but below the angle of the camera, you’re stuffed full of his cock, cunt fluttering around him, dripping creamy slick down his thighs while he pretends nothing’s wrong.

and you can’t even make a sound.

because you know damn well ben will make good on every single one of those threats.

divider creds

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes @deanstubble @sunnyteume @titsout4jackles @sunnyfuffly @deansbeer @claymoresofinfamy23 @beforeroachfalls @capkatie @kamisobsessed @thesevnthseal @lunaleah

[emeraldcrs]

IT'S NOT A GOOD NIGHT IF YOU DON'T TAKE IT TOO FAR

cw: public fingering, dirty talk, soft dom!dean (i guess😭)

"i'm gonna fucking screw this up." you grumbled and tried to concentrate. "i'm tired and hungry...i don't wanna play this damn game."

"you won't screw it up," he assured, lips brushing your ear in a light chuckle. "and we can eat something after your shot."

his free hand slid from your waist to your hip—an almost possessive but subtle touch. his fingers splayed across the soft curve of your ass, thumb rubbing absentminded circles over the thin fabric of your jeans.

"just focus on the shot, sweetheart," he murmured. "i know you can do it. you're just making it harder on yourself by being so damn impatient."

"don't argue with me, jerk." you groaned and pushed the balls with your cue. "you owe me a cheese burger with some diet coke. this fucking hunt was so damn long."

"i never argue. i simply correct people when they're wrong."

dean chuckled again, the sound low and rich, and gave your hip a squeeze. he stepped back as you pushed the balls around. dean leaned his hip against the edge of the pool table, arms folding over his chest.

he couldn't resist the urge to tease you. he loved the way you got all pouty and grumpy when you were tired and hungry. it made you more adorable—if that was even possible.

the corner of dean mouth curled up in satisfaction as your shot was a success.

"told you you could do it," he quipped, that cocky smirk on his face again.

dean pushed off the pool table, stepping up behind you once more. this time, his hands settled on your hips, long fingers curled firmly into soft flesh.

"now, about that burger you said i owe you…."

“what’s up with it, sir?” youcontinued to hold the cue close to your body as you looked at the pool table.

he hummed, leaning slightly forward so his chest grazed your back. his breath was hot on your neck, and his voice was low, like a rough caress.

"well, i take my debts seriously," he replied. dean thumbs drew lazy circles on your hips, just above the waistband of your jeans. his fingers itched to venture lower, to tease that sensitive skin that lay beneath…

"and i wouldn't want my pretty girl going hungry." one hand slowly slipped to your stomach, sliding under the hem of your shirt to press his palm flat against your soft, bare skin. the contrast of his calloused hand against your warm, supple flesh was stark, and he relished the way you shivered against him, just a touch of goosebumps rippling under his touch.

with his other hand, he gently took the pool cue from your grasp, setting it down on the table. dean body shifted, pressing closer so his entire front was molded to your back.

"dean...this bar is full of people, stop it. we have an audience..." you cautiously looked around the bar, which was almost completely full of lounging, hungry young college students. the clinking of half-empty glasses, loud music, people dancing with each other, hips grinding...but your corner of the bar was too quiet. and full of tension. you knew it wouldn't be right to cross the line of 'innocent' flirting here, but with dean, your thoughts were never, how can i say...pure and innocent.

he chuckled, the sound a low, throaty rumble against your ear. his hand slid up higher under your shirt, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your navel.

"so? let 'em watch. maybe they'll learn somethin'," dean murmured, pressing his lips just below your jawline. the light scrape of his beard sent another shiver through you, and he smirked against your skin.

"besides," he continued, his hand finally venturing just a bit lower, his fingertips flirting with the edge of your jeans. "you look damn good, sweetheart. can't blame a man for wanting to show you off." he nipped at that spot beneath your ear, the one that drove you wild. It took all your willpower not to moan out loud.

"but you practically look like you want to finger-fucking me." your fingers started playing with the greenish material of the pool table, you could hear your nails scratching the table even over the loud music. "so you're saying they should learn something? you're going to give a live-action educational lesson to college students on how to give their partners the perfect orgasm with just their fingers?"

dean chuckled, his lips trailing down to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. "careful, sweetheart," he warned teasingly. "language like that might just get you in trouble." his hand slid lower still, the tips of his fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of your jeans, barely touching the edge of your underwear. his breath was hot against your ear.

"although," he murmured, his voice dropping another octave, "i can't say the idea isn't temptin'." his hand shifted, long fingers sliding across your stomach to the button of your jeans, toying with the tab. he couldn't help it. you were like a damn drug, and he was hopelessly, helplessly addicted.

"might get us kicked outta the bar though," he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

"so this is why the bar name is 'sinners'...now everything is clear."

"damn straight," he agreed with a smirk, nipping your earlobe again. "and you're lookin' like temptation incarnate."

his hand shifted, fingers delving beneath the jeans, just brushing the fabric of your underwear. he traced lazy circles over your hip, his thumb sweeping along the elastic band. his chest was pressed flush against your back, so you'd feel the way his heart was starting to pound.

"but if you don't wanna give everyone a show," dean added, his voice huskier now, "we can take this somewhere more...private."

he pressed his hips against you just a bit, just enough to make you feel the way he was hardening cock, how your closeness was affecting him. you could already feel your cunt stretching around him. "what do you say, sweetheart?" he purered into your ear.

"no, i want you to do it here. i know you can do it without anyone would notice. fuck,.another plus point for you."

his hand paused, his fingers still dancing along the edge of your underwear. he let out a low hum, a sound that spoke of challenge and arousal all at once.

"you're a wicked woman, anyone ever tell you that?" he murmured, his lips hovering just above your skin. dean nipped at the spot on your neck he knew you loved, enjoying the way you squirmed against him. "but if you're that desperate for it, who am i to deny you?" he added with a slight edge of teasing. he knew he could do this. he could keep you on edge, teetering between pleasure and agony, without a damn soul knowing.

dean fingers slid a little lower, brushing against the front of your panties. "you gonna be quiet for me, sweetheart? or are you gonna scream my name and get us arrested?"

"we're not gonna get arrested. i promise. if they call the cops on us, i'll report the bar for drug dealing. the whole place stinks of weed and shit. we can improvize."

"good girl," he murmured, nipping your neck again. "now, don't move." he moved his other hand from your hips to your jaw, turning your head so he could claim your mouth in a rough, possessive kiss. he swallowed any noise you might make, his tongue slipping past your lips to claim your mouth as his own. meanwhile, his hand pushed lower, finally sliding beneath the fabric of your underwear, fingers finding your slit and caressing it.

dean broke the kiss, his breathing ragged against your neck as he continued to kiss and nibble along your jawline. "you gotta stay quiet, honey. you swear you'll keep those pretty little noises to yourself?" he started to move his fingers, slipping a single digit between your folds as he found that spot inside you that would make you melt. "you can be a good girl for me, can't you? You can be my sweet, pretty girl."

he pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing slowly, gently, just to tease you further. "i know you can," he murmured, his voice dark, his breath hot on your skin. "i know you're gonna be quiet, gonna keep all those noises i love to make you make locked inside that pretty little mouth." he withdrew his fingers for a moment, just long enough to gather some of your wetness on them, before sliding them back inside you, deeper this time. "such a tight pussy, damnit."

"i could take you right here, against this pool table," he growled, his mouth once again at your neck, teeth scraping against your skin. "in front of all these people. they'd know you're mine." he was almost growling now, his voice rough in your ear as he continued to tease you, his fingers moving in and out with agonizing slowness.

"i'd bend you over this table," dean murmured, his tongue licking a slow, hot trail up your neck. "just like this, with your hands flat against the felt. i'd make you look out at the room, at all those people in the bar...and you'd keep quiet. you'd be a good girl for me, you wouldn't make a damn sound." dean curled his fingers, finding that spot deep inside that made you gasp. "they'd all know you were mine, but they couldn't have you. they could look, but they couldn't touch. they'd be so damn jealous of me, but they could only watch."

he nipped your earlobe, his free hand grabbing your hip, holding you firmly in place, rocking his hips to your jeans covered butt. "and i'd tease and tease until you were so desperate you'd beg for me, sweetheart. because this is our curse, we depend on each other. and there is nothing we can do about it."

non-offical taglist: @bruisedfig @briiverse @pieandflannel @prettygirlfromparadisecity @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pinksatinpanties @jollyhunter @tinas111 @mostlymarvelgirl @soldierboysdoll @cherrygirlfriend

inspired by @wvyik c.ai bot<33

[emeraldcrs]

still thinking about this😔

@plasticflowersinahistorycemetery just blessing your eyes

remember the time when jensen literally got a bit excited on the stage?...yeah me too.

♡tags: @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @briiverse @bejeweledinterludes @littlesoulshine @cowboysandcigarettes @rositaslabyrinth @soangelbaby @sugardean @angelblqde @sunsbaby @soldierboysdoll @cherrygirlfriend @scrmqwn @1967barracuda @g0away-tate @florchids @sammygvrl @thekhloediary @hischrrypie

[emeraldcrs]

Older dean thoughts tonight queen?? 👀

whoops it is the following night BUT my current thoughts are that older!dean takes pussy eating VERY seriously. like so seriously that when you look down at him after your third earth-shatteringly good orgasm, you see him between your thighs with his eyes shut, so obviously pussy drunk, just lapping up your slick like he’d die without it.

and it takes a few tries before he finally snaps out of his hazy state, “dean?….. dean?…. dean!” he blinks up at you and pulls away from your swollen overstimulated clit, arousal and drool smeared across the lower half of his face.

“oh, shit. sorry, sweetheart,” he chuckles awkwardly, licking his lips. “just love her so much,” he admits, and then places a gentle kiss on your clit.

he’s probably making up for all the times in his younger years where he didn’t fully satisfy women and give them the proper treatment they deserved (i’m talking pre-show dean here.)

in his head he’s paying penance, and he fucking loves it <3

[emeraldcrs]

🥹🥹

[emeraldcrs]

okay, who is this diva?😔

@plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel my wives

@sacr1ficialang3l sorry but i have to add you too😔

[emeraldcrs]

😊😊

29 never looked so good 💋

[emeraldcrs]

i can't wait for my new husband😭only 1 week!!!

₊˚⊹𐙚 safe with me

pairing: mark meachum x fem!reader

summary: mark is on the run with you due to you becoming a target for a contact killer, you’re hiding out in a cheap motel and mark comforts you when your nerves get the best of you

cw: angst.ᐟ comfort.ᐟ a hint of old flame trope.ᐟ heavy mentions of [death, blood, murder, guilt, corpse/dead body, hitman themes].ᐟ nicknames [sweetheart, darling].ᐟ

word count: 1210

julia yaps: for my wife @emeraldcrs hope this cheers you up bby

────────── 🚓 ──────────

mark’s eyes scanned the parking lot of the motel joint, analysing any threat before quickly shoving you inside the room. “get in, quick” he commanded as he walked in after you and slammed the door shut behind him, locking the door with both the locks and putting a chair under the door knob.

you just simply stood there beside the bed, your hands gripping nervously at the edge of your tshirt, you watched him pace from the door to the closet, opening it up and checking for anything suspicious or an intruder, then does the same to the bathroom, pushing the bath curtain back, gun pointed and ready just in case.

“place is clean, i assume you’ll wanna wash up” mark spoke his voice slightly softer now that he cleared the place.

“yeah.. all my clothes are dirty and covered in.. in blood” your throat clenching, barely letting you speak anything above a whisper. your hands shook slightly as you looked down at your blood-covered jeans.

it wasn’t your blood – it was your friend’s.

you and your friend were simply at the shopping mall, you wanted to get some new candles and other decor for your new flat. you didn’t want to go alone so you pleaded and begged her to come along even if she didn’t want to, and now? she’s dead and her blood is on your hands, or at least that’s what your mind kept repeating for all those hours of mark driving you across the state, to this funky cheap motel, that hopefully no one will find you in.

mark noticed by your body language that a start of a breakdown was coming, your breathing was erratic from holding in your tears, your hands were trembling and you became slightly paler from looking at the blood stains.

“hey sweetheart?, why don’t you look at me real quick..” he took a step closer, reacting quickly, his big calloused hands gently cupping your cheeks, making you look up into his eyes and not at the blood, “there we go” mark gave you an eye smile, eyes slightly crinkling at the corners.

“now take a deep breath f’me okay? breath in..” he took a deep breath in with you, trying to guide the pace, “and out” you followed his exhale, “attagirl.. now do that five times” he asked you more than instructed. his eyes gazing softly upon your beautiful features as you tried to do the breathing exercise.

after you did the five inhales and exhales while looking him in the eyes, those calming emerald eyes, you did in fact feel less lightheaded, and he could tell because your paleness was gradually going away.

his thumbs caressing your cheeks before letting go of your face, then his hands gently rested on your shoulders. “i know a lot has happened in the span of twenty-four hours.. and that all this is a lot to take in, but you’re safe with me, alright darling? i promise i’ll protect you” mark spoke with such honestly and softness, you could feel he was being genuine.

you nodded, your eyes still glossy from the tears that keep threatening to fall. your hands still slightly shaking as you can’t help but have the image of your friend’s death looping constantly in your mind.

the screams that erupted around you as the crowd of people created a stampede, her body dropping to the floor of the mall like a sack of potatoes, her body limp and lifeless as you tried to lift her up, what seemed to be gallons of crimson blood pooling at her head from the sniper shot that you were supposed to originally receive, not her. the guilt only grew by the minute, to a point it was hard for you to hide it all.

mark knew you were shaken up, traumatised even, and he also knew that there wasn’t much he could do to help, so he did the only thing that he could do best at the moment. he opened his arms, inviting you into his embrace. “c’mere” he gently pulled you in by your arm as you began to break down.

you weren’t able to hold in your tears anymore at the feeling of his warmth, your throat clenched, not letting you speak a single word, you could only sob softly against him.

“just let it out sweetheart, let it all out, i got you” his voice delicate but raspy. he let his chin rest on the top of your head as his arms wrapped around your petite frame, he was so much taller than you, his shoulders wide and height making him tower over you, which felt oddly comforting, like you were safe as long as you stayed close to him.

he caressed the back of your head and your back, trying to give you at least physical comfort. your small hands weakly gripping around the material of his long sleeved shirt.

“it’s my fault.. it’s my fault she’s dead” you sobbed, your breathing uneven.

“i shouldn’t have forced her to come with me… she didn’t even want to go.. she said she wasn’t feeling too well but i didn’t wanna go alone.. and now she is dead because of me.. and we left her there” you curled up into his chest as your body shook with every sob you let out.

mark’s brows frowned slightly at the heaviness of your words, he could feel the guilt that you’ve been carrying with you for hours, he knew you always were empathetic and soft hearted, “hey.. hey look at me” he pulled you slightly away so you could look up into his eyes, your mascara ruined a little despite it being waterproof.

“it wasn’t your fault, d’you hear me? you couldn’t have possibly known that this would happen, and if you did you would have never dragged her along… you’re the sweetest person i’ve ever known” he started off, his tone more serious, hoping he’d get to you.

“the only person you should blame and be angry at is the one that hired the hitman and made you the target” he gently wiped your tears away with his thumbs, his words started to slowly crack the wall of guilt.

“but why me..?” you sniffled, your voice cracking a bit.

“i think it might be to do with the fact you’re..an old friend of mine, someone i care about” he explained.

“but i promise you– me and my team will put an end to this, i’ll make damn sure of that” he gave you a weak smile, barely noticeable, but it was there.

“you’re safe with me sweetheart” mark assured you, giving you a slow gentle kiss on the forehead before pulling you back into his arms, his body warmth giving you a sense of security.

“the guys should be here soon, they’ll bring you fresh clothes you can change into” he murmured into your hair, his hug tight around you, as if to emphasise that you are indeed gonna be safe with him.

you nodded, your eyes slightly red and puffy from the tears. “everything will be alright” he spoke softly before giving another feather light kiss on your temple, his arms wrapping tighter around you in a protective manner.

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

🏷️ : @jensino @emeraldcrs @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @missus-ackles @littlejackles @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @bruisedfig @figisonline @littlelamy @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @rositaslabyrinth @deanspookiebear @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @miss-marmalade @pinksatinpanties @multiversefanfics @cupidzbunny @soldierboysdoll @sunnyteume @mrsanakinwinchesterpoldark @that-stanford-girlie @pwin098 @tendertulip @honeyyxxbee @rerejunebug @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @lunaleah @idontwannabehere78

𑁥౿ check out my masterlist for other works!

♡ see this post to be added to the taglist!

© pieandflannel – do not plagiarise or repost any of my work!

© reserved for photo/gif owners! (pinterest)

© diver by @cafekitsune <3

[emeraldcrs]

i'm so tired, i could sleep like a BABY

[emeraldcrs]

hii could u do a late night summer road trip with dean moodboard? something similar to the ariana grande into you mv? <3

a fun night without hunting;)

@prettygirlfromparadisecity @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pinksatinpanties @pieandflannel @mostlymarvelgirl

[emeraldcrs]

okay so i literally hate that my profile has no point, soooo...

PLEASE SEND ME MOOD BOARD REQUEST!!!

no matter what topic, but mostly spn, jackles characters etc.

just give lots of details and be as specific as possible!!<33

OR i can edit pictures (i'll attach an example below)

[emeraldcrs]

୭ ˚. ᰔ ILYSMIH. ⋆˚࿔

dean winchester x fem! reader

ꕤ summary: after giving birth, you are utterly exhausted but safe in dean’s arms, who’s the proudest, most supportive dad ever. through the haze of sleepless nights and overwhelming love, dean proves he’s got both your and baby’s back.

♯ warnings: mentions of childbirth and exhaustion (no graphic medical details, but some emotional rawness), emotional vulnerability & tearful moments, slow-building parenthood fluff, hints of postpartum struggle, focus on comfort, love, and care.

♯ notes: hi loves!! so please tell me im not the only one that’s borderline obsessed with kali uchis?? ilysmih is my favorite song on her recent album!! anywayzz hope this gives you all the warm fuzzies.

You don’t even remember falling asleep. Just the weight of everything crashing down once the room quieted, the pressure behind your eyes, the way your chest felt like it had been split open and filled with something too big to hold. There were voices. Nurses, footsteps, maybe even soft crying, and then nothing.

Then warmth.

Not the kind that blankets you, but the kind that feels alive. A palm brushing your forehead, calloused but careful. Fingers threading through your messy hair like you were something fragile. That’s what woke you. That, and his voice.

“Hey, mama.”

Dean’s voice wasn’t loud, it was barely there. Like if he spoke too hard, the moment would shatter. His eyes were red, but he wasn’t trying to hide it. He stood at the edge of the bed, hands shoved into his jacket pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them, eyes locked on the tiny bundle resting on your chest.

He looked at you like he’d been struck. Like he’d seen a ghost and fallen in love with it.

“You— baby, you did it.”

You blinked slow, trying to pull yourself up on your elbows, but your body protested instantly. Everything ached. Your muscles, your head, even your teeth. Dean noticed immediately, rushing to your side and pressing a hand to your shoulder, shaking his head.

“No, don’t— don’t move. I got you. Just rest. Just breathe.”

And then he reached down; gently, reverently, and picked up the baby. Like it was holy. His hands were big around them, careful, sure. His breath caught in his throat the second he had them cradled against his chest.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “Oh my god, look at you.”

There was a beat. The kind of silence that means everything. And then he laughed, low and breathless and a little broken. The kind of laugh you let out when you’re looking at something you never thought you’d get to hold.

“You made this,” he whispered, glancing at you like you were the moon. “You made this, sweetheart. Jesus.”

The baby made this tiny, sleepy noise, and Dean’s whole body curled in around them. Like instinct. Like it was the only thing his body knew how to do anymore. He sat on the edge of your bed, eyes wide and heart in his throat, and rocked the baby with a rhythm that was too natural to be learned.

“I didn’t even know it was possible to love something this fast,” he said, voice cracking. “Didn’t know it could hit like this.”

You were so tired. Every blink felt like it might be the last before sleep pulled you under again. But you didn’t want to miss a second. Not this. Not him.

Dean looked over at you, tears sliding down his cheeks like they didn’t even belong to him. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” he said. “You’re so fuckin’ brave. I don’t know how I got this lucky, but I swear to God I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making sure you know.”

He leaned over, kissed your temple. His lips stayed there for a while. Breathing you in. Like he needed proof this was real. Like if he let go, he might wake up in the Impala in some cheap motel parking lot, and this would all disappear.

Then he whispered something to the baby. Too quiet to catch. Just soft enough that you knew it was sacred.

When he sat back again, he started humming. Some old rock ballad you couldn’t place through the fog in your brain. He rocked the baby like it was muscle memory, smiling down like he’d just been given the world wrapped in hospital blankets.

“I’m your dad,” he told them, chuckling to himself. “I’m your dad, holy shit.” he looked back at you again, eyes soft, “And you’re their mama. The love of my life. My girl.”

And maybe it was the exhaustion, or the hormones, or the rawness of it all, but you cried. Quietly. Just tears slipping out the sides of your eyes while you laid there, overwhelmed and in love and full of something you couldn’t name.

Dean didn’t panic. Didn’t freak. He just reached for your hand and kissed it like he’d do it a million times more. “Sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured. “We got you. Me and this little bean— we’re on night shift.”

You let your eyes fall shut, finally.

And the last thing you heard before sleep took you under was Dean Winchester singing your baby to sleep with a voice meant for backroads and lullabies.

The next morning feels like a dream dipped in gold. You’re not even sure what time it is. Could be noon, could be 4 AM, but you wake up to the sound of a soft knock, the rustle of flannel, and a baby’s breathy coo. Everything hurts less. Or maybe it still hurts, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Not with the way Dean looks standing by the window, sunlight catching the edge of his jaw, holding your baby like he was made to.

He’s swaying again. Same slow rhythm. Same whisper-singing under his breath like he’s telling secrets only the two of them get to hear. The baby’s nestled against his chest, all tucked into a blanket that he probably rewrapped five times to get perfect. He looks down at them like he’s memorizing everything; the tiny lashes, the soft fists, the weird little way their nose scrunches when they yawn. And then he sees you.

“Hey, sleepy girl,” he says, voice soft like syrup. “We missed you.”

You blink at him, hazy and warm, and he crosses the room like he can’t stand being that far from you. He leans down and kisses your forehead like it’s instinct, like he’d do it every hour on the hour if you let him. He’s so gentle when he sits beside you, so proud it hurts to look at him.

“She smiled,” he whispers like it’s breaking news. “I mean, probably gas or something, but still. She smiled. And she’s got your nose. Totally. It’s not up for debate.”

Your heart folds in on itself. You let him pass the baby to you, watching the way his hands linger for a second longer than they need to. He doesn’t want to let go. You don’t blame him.

And then, chaos, but the tiniest version of it. A nurse walks in with discharge forms. You’re cleared. You’re going home.

Dean’s whole face lights up like a Christmas tree. “We get to take her with us?” he asks, like she might still belong to the hospital. The nurse laughs. “She’s yours, dad.”

Dad.

That word hits him hard. You see it, the way he swallows it down, the way it echoes in his chest like thunder. He helps you dress, one hand always hovering at your back, as if the world might hurt you if he lets you go for a second.

And when it’s time to buckle the baby into the car seat, he hovers like he’s defusing a bomb. Arms crossed, pacing, muttering to himself. “Too tight? Is it too tight? Is her neck gonna snap? Holy shit, is this thing even safe?”

You have to gently lay a hand on his arm to stop him from spiraling. “Dean. She’s fine. You did good.”

He still insists on sitting in the backseat the whole drive home, one hand on the baby’s chest, the other gripping the side of the car seat like he could shield her from gravity itself. You’re driving— don’t ask how that happened, and he keeps glancing at you through the mirror like you’re some kind of divine miracle.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks every two minutes. “You need water? Food? A blanket? Jesus, I should’ve packed a cooler.”

Home is a safehouse two towns over. A small one. Quiet. Warm wood floors, soft lamps, the faint smell of sage and dust. Dean spent a week prepping it before the due date. Baby clothes folded into drawers, bottles lined up on the counter, a rocking chair in the corner that creaks with love.

He carries the baby in like she’s made of glass. You’re close behind, a little wobbly, but smiling. And the second you walk through the door, Dean exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the hospital.

“We did it,” he says. His voice cracks again. “We fuckin’ did it.”

You collapse on the couch, baby in your arms, body tired and soul full. Dean disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a peanut butter sandwich cut into triangles. “Best I could do,” he shrugs, and sits beside you like he’s been waiting his whole life to do exactly this.

You’re both quiet for a while. The baby’s breathing softens. The room is golden with early evening light. Dean reaches over and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “You’re my whole world, y’know that?” he murmurs. “Both of you. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.”

And then, when the baby makes that tiny little noise again; that sleepy, airy half-laugh that sounds like she’s dreaming something sweet— Dean just loses it. Tears. No warning. Just full-on tears sliding down his cheeks as he laughs softly and presses a kiss to your temple.

“I didn’t know love could feel like this,” he says, voice thick. “I didn’t know I could feel like this. But I’m never going back.”

You nod, eyes full. You’re never going back either.

You look down at your baby— your baby, and you still can’t believe it. That they’re real. That they came from you. That you carried them, made space in your body, let your bones shift and stretch just to bring them here.

And now they’re here. Tiny and perfect and loud in the most beautiful way.

You’re not the same. You know that. You’re not just you anymore. You’re someone’s home now. You’re the arms they’ll fall asleep in. The voice they’ll search for in a crowd. The one who’ll know every cry, every little sigh, every look on their face before they even learn how to talk.

It’s terrifying. And holy. And so gentle it makes your hands shake.

You think about the way Dean looked at you in the hospital. How he still looks at you, like you’re the sun. The way he calls you mama now, like it’s always belonged to you. Like it’s more than just a title, it’s sacred. He doesn’t say it casually. He says it like it’s a promise.

There are moments, especially in the quiet, where you just hold your baby against your chest and cry. Not because you’re sad. But because it’s all too big. Because your love doesn’t have words big enough. Because you’ll never be able to explain it— but you’ll spend your life showing it.

This is what love is. What it’s meant to be. Loud and soft all at once. A song only the three of you know.

You kiss the top of your baby’s head and whisper, “I love you so much it hurts.”

And you mean it.

You’ll always mean it.

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tysm for reading! read more of my works @ masterlist.

[emeraldcrs]

can you make a moodboard with like “dating jensen in the 90s-00s” ?

I can’t get basketball jensen out of my head 😭

you’re sitting on the hood of his car, the city lights stretched out below like a blanket of fireflies. jensen’s got one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other spinning a polaroid between his fingers. the kind of silence between you isn’t awkward—it’s comfortable, warm, like you’ve known him longer than you really have.

“this one’s my favorite of you,” he says, sliding the photo into your hand. you laugh—it’s tilted, a little blurry, taken right after he spilled his coke on you at the arcade. but he’s laughing in it. really laughing.

“why that one?” you ask.

“because you’re not trying,” he says, glancing sideways. “that’s when i see the real stuff. the laugh you only do when you forget anyone’s watching.”

the wind pulls at your flannel sleeves and pushes hair across your face. he doesn’t brush it away, just watches for a moment, then leans forward and pulls a cd from the glovebox. the handwriting across the top is messy but clear: "songs that remind me of you."

“is this for me?” you ask, fingers brushing the edge of the jewel case.

“yeah,” he shrugs, then smiles. “but you’re only allowed to play it when you really miss me.”

you laugh, but your chest tightens a little. it feels unreal—like something you’ll look back on someday and wonder if you made it up.

then, almost under his breath, he says, “i have to fly back tomorrow. shooting for days of our lives all week.”

you nod, slowly. not sad—just… fragile. like you both know this was never meant to last forever, but you’re going to hold on to it anyway. a mixtape. a photo. the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking back.

taglist: @bruisedfig @tinas111 @prettygirlfromparadisecity @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pinksatinpanties @pieandflannel @angelblqde

[emeraldcrs]

okay so i literally hate that my profile has no point, soooo...

PLEASE SEND ME MOOD BOARD REQUEST!!!

no matter what topic, but mostly spn, jackles characters etc.

just give lots of details and be as specific as possible!!<33

OR i can edit pictures (i'll attach an example below)

[emeraldcrs]

OKAY GURL IM TOO LAZY TO WRITE THIS MYSELF SO IM ASKING YOU

could you write a fic where Dean finds out that the reader can't cum from penetrative sex, and only from clit stim?

THANKS POOKIE I LOVE YOU XXXXX

- Karla

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ learning curve

pairing: teen!dean winchester x teen fem!reader

summary: during your first time with dean, you confess that you didn’t reach your orgasm due to only being able to come with clitoral stimulation

cw: 18+ implied.ᐟ fluff.ᐟ comfort.ᐟ first time.ᐟ virgin!reader.ᐟ virgin!dean.ᐟ pre-established relationship [dating].ᐟ nicknames [sweetheart, babe].ᐟ

word count: 715

julia yaps: i’m so sorry it took me forever to do this! i promise i am working on the requests i am not ignoring them!

────────── 🫦 ──────────

your bedroom smelled like sweet perfume mixed with sweat and sex, the quiet sensual music still playing in the background as you and dean laid tangled up in the sheets of your baby pink covers, breathless from what had just happened. his hair messy and stuck to his forehead, the necklace on his bare chest rising up and down slightly.

dean shifted a bit, propping himself up on one elbow as he faced you, you could feel his eyes on you, as if trying to reader your mind if you were satisfied. you tried to smile, but dean was too good at reading people, especially you, after all you were his sweetheart.

“hey..” dean spoke, his voice soft but curious, “you okay, sweetheart?” you swallowed hard, you hated when he read you like an open book, but that just shows that the both of you were very in sync with each other. he always picked up on when something wasn’t right.

you didn’t want to meet him gaze so you stared up at the ceiling, “yeah, just tired.. that’s all” you shrugged.

“babe we both know that’s bullshit, come on somethings up… i didn’t hurt you did i?” dean asked, slightly frowning, the last thing he’d want to do was to hurt you, even on accident.

his words made you look at him with that soft puppy eye look of yours, “no, god no, of course not” you blurted out quickly, not letting him properly start to worry.

“then what is it..? talk to me” he reached with his hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his emerald green eyes as softest as ever. “you didn’t like it?” he tried to ask in a soft whisper.

“no- i mean, i did.. but-“ you hesitated, but the way dean looked at you made your heart flutter, you didn’t have the heart to lie to him.

“i didn’t… i’ve never really came just from- you know.. just that” you spat out, your heart beating quicker as embarrassment crawled it’s way up to your cheeks in the form of a blush.

dean’s eyebrows shot up, “wait, what do you mean by.. that?” his voice low, he was a guy, he needed to know more that just hints.

you couldn’t meet dean’s eyes from how embarrassed you were feeling so you focused on your hands fiddling with your bed sheets. “dick..”

“wait so-” dean started off, the wheels in his head turning, “you mean you need to play with your clit in order to come?”

you nodded slowly, the feeling of shame really eating at you. “yeah..”

“okay, that’s no problem” he smiled softly, his eyes scanning your face, he could tell you felt like digging a giant hole and burying yourself in it.

“aww sweetheart..” he reached out, his hand cupping the side of your face before giving you a gentle peck on the lips, “there’s no shame in that, everyone is different, it simply means i gotta step up my game to make my baby feel good.” he winked playfully.

your eyes softened as you looked into his, you were glad he was this understanding, you were so scared that he’d brush it off, but dean winchester was a true gentleman after all, caring about his sweetheart’s pleasure just as much as his, if not more.

a smile grew on your face, feeling a little less nervous now, “..okay” your voice barely above a whisper, getting all shy all of a sudden.

dean couldn’t help but smirk mischievously, “aww come on sweetheart, don’t get all shy on me now” he teased in his soft but low voice.

he leaned in closer, his face barely a few inches away from yours, his playful demeanour back after being all serious.

“so.. how bout you tell me what you like-“ he pulled the pink bed covers off you, exposing your bare body to him. “-as i play with that pretty little pussy of yours, hm?” he spread your legs apart, not breaking eye contact with you, your breath hitched.

his middle finger gently circled your clit, earning a soft moan from your lips, dean’s grin turned even more devilish at the little sound you made, desperately wanting to hear more of those. “see? i’m a fast learner”

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

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