#Dean drabble

[lynhub]

dean winchester talkin' filthy to you

who wrote this.............i kept stopping between every paragraph to decide if i really wanted to go there - and i did, maybe i shouldn't have. so im leaving this here please hopefully enjoy, because this was crazy for me. this was exposure therapy.

mature content, 18+

“atta girl,” dean grunts roughly, his cock bottoming out inside you. his rough hands gripping your thighs to keep you from squirming away. “takin’ my dick so fuckin’ well like always.” 

you whimper beneath him, your eyes glossy as you look up at him — lips puffy from kissing, teeth biting into them. the stretch of him sending jolts of pleasure and pain coursing through your body. your fingers clutched at his hands where they’re planted firmly on your thighs, pressed to either side of your chest. 

“look at that pretty cunt, swallowing my dick,” he grins, his voice a rough rasp, eyes locked on where you’re split open around him. “just how i like you, sweetheart.” 

his hips never falter, pace unrelenting as he keeps fucking into you — balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. his grip stays firm on your thighs, keeping you nice and open as he picks up his pace. the head of his cock brushes that sweet spot inside you — the one that makes you see stars.

you moan out, your fingers clutching tighter at his hands. he’s doing everything he can to work you up to that peak, hips driving into you with a purpose. “come on,” he pants out, voice sounding almost urgent, “show me how good you feel when you cum on my cock.”

the vulgarity of his words do nothing to ease the ache between your thighs — only making you slicker. “goddamn,” he grunts, hips stuttering when he feels your cunt clamp up around him, “you’re fuckin’ creamin’ my dick.”

“please, dean.” you cry out, one of his hands leaving your thigh so his thumb can meet your clit in slow, rough circles. your eyes nearly roll back at the increased stimulation — the coil in your stomach threatening to snap.

“you gonna paint my dick white, baby?” he grins down at you, watching as you get more twitchy with every thrust. 

he watches as your back bows, mouth dropping open in pure pleasure, eyes growing more hazy. he knows that look anywhere — hell, he's memorized that look — the look of you finally reaching your peak. 

a grin spreads across his face, hips picking up pace, thumb rubbing quicker circles on your clit. “there she is,” he growls, lips pressing a quick kiss against your ear, “go ahead and cum.”

your body trembles in his grasp, your cunt clamping down on him, feeling every drag of his cock through your velvety walls. that familiar rush of warmth floods over you, and with a broken cry, you come undone, body shaking with the sheer force of it.

“easy baby,” dean croons at you, his hips slowing down slightly. “i ain’t done with you just yet.”

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist | dean winchester masterlist

[cleighwrites]

The Trouble with Love Is

SPN Fanfic

Characters - Dean Winchester, FC

Summary - Dean wallows in a bar after reuniting with a former flame

Word Count - 100

A/N - This was written for @justagirlinafandomworld's flash fiction challenge # 5. My song prompt was The Trouble With Love Is by Kelly Clarkson. This is my first time participating, I hope I succeeded! 

Warnings - angst, drinking as a coping mechanism

Dive bars at Christmastime we're the worst place to be with a freshly broken heart. Not that Dean had a broken heart; it was wounded at best, obliterated at worst.

Meeting her again after so long had given him the worst thing someone could have: hope. Hope led to all sorts of nasty things. The Kelly Clarkson song that was blasting through the dingy speakers reminded him: love would make you believe the lie, it was stronger than pride, and didn't care how fast you fell.

The trouble with love is... you've got no say at all.

So, he drank.

[rizlowwritessortof]

The Truth

I didn't get this drabble done in time for @artyandink 's Jensen-a-thon, but here it is, anyway 🙂

Just a little soft, tipsy Dean and a moment of truth

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 760

Warnings: None (although soft!Dean is a warning in itself)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You sink into fragrant, steaming water, a blissful smile on your lips. You slide down to rest your head against the back of the tub, breathing deep of the vanilla and lavender scent, appreciating with every cell of your body the relaxing quiet and the privacy.

The guys are at the bar, celebrating the successful end of another hunt. You had opted for a few hours to yourself, and after Dean finally gave up trying to convince you to change your mind, they had headed out, leaving you to enjoy a little private time. You love them, you really do – Sam is like the brother you never had, and Dean… Well, Dean is basically the bane of your existence, the temptation you won’t give into, the best friend that you won’t allow yourself to have benefits with. And sometimes you just need a break from the constant magnetic pull that exists between the two of you.

You soak to your heart’s content, finally exiting the bathroom and donning a pair of sleep shorts and an old ZZ Top t-shirt so old that you can barely read the printing on it anymore. You are all smooth, soft and completely relaxed, and you settle down into the comfy old sofa, bowl of popcorn in hand, smiling happily. You settle in with a little wiggle, turning the TV on and scrolling through until you find an old mystery movie.

You’re just getting into the plot when the door opens and your solitude ends. You can tell when they walk in that they’ve had plenty to drink, and you watch with amusement as Sam shoots you a crooked smile and heads for the shower and Dean attempts to remove his boots.

He almost falls over a couple of times, then finally plops down on the nearest bed, finally managing to get both boots off. He stands back upright, swaying just a little before he makes a beeline for the popcorn on the coffee table next to your feet. He tosses a few fluffy kernels into his mouth and plops down on the couch beside you. “Whatcha watchin’?”

“Just an old movie. Mystery thriller or something.”

“Black and white – classic.” He stares at the TV with you for a couple of minutes, then suddenly goes horizontal, head in your lap as if he belongs there.

You stare down at him with an amused smile. “Comfy?” He’s always a little extra affectionate when he drinks, but he’s never done this before.

“Mmmm, yeah.” He shuffles around a bit until he’s good and comfortable. “Hey, who’s that?” he asks, pointing at the TV.

“The actress? Barbara Stanwyck.”

“She’s pretty sexy.”

You grin. “Dean, you’d think a baked potato was sexy right now. You’re drunk.”

“Mmmmmm, that sounds good. But hey – I have fucking great taste, even when I’m drunk. Which I am not.” He’s quiet for a moment, then says quietly, “I think you’re sexy. And beautiful.” You let out a soft, derisive snort, and he turns to his back and looks up at you. “Why don’t you ever believe me when I say nice things to you?”

You hesitate for a second, then answer, a teasing tone in your voice. “Another thing you do when you’re drunk is lie to women.” His eyes are heavy-lidded and solemn as he blinks slowly, and your smile fades as he reaches for your hand, gathering it to his chest and holding it close.

“I don’t lie to you.”

The atmosphere has shifted, emotions you refuse to identify swelling in your chest at his words and the look in his eyes, but before you can begin to think of a response, Dean turns back to his side and settles in again, his scruff softer than you would expect against your skin. “You smell good.” He rubs his cheek against your thigh. “And you’re soft.” He lets out a contented little sigh, hugging your forearm snug against his chest.

In a matter of minutes he is breathing slow and steady, obviously asleep, and you stare down at him, the movie forgotten. Sam comes out of the bathroom just then, looking at the two of you on the sofa with a crooked smile.

“Need me to help move him?” he asks, and you smile back, ducking your head a little to hide your blush.

“No, he’s okay.”

“All right – just wake me up if you change your mind,” he says, crawling into one of the beds and shutting off the lamp, leaving the room dark except for the glow of the television.

Tags for my lovelies: 

 @saenalife    @deanscarlett    @jensensgotyoudean    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog 

   @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid      @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel  

  @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess      @deanslittleangel2y5  

  @melanie451        @spectaculacular-sammy     @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean-blog   

        @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain  

  @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester    @typicalweirdbookworm          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit    @youtoldalie 

   @tanithlowisabamf-blog    @deandoesthingstome    @jxackles    @nerdwholikesword    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic  

  @kreweofimp  @gabavaldman    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog    @darkx143    @disassociativedogma   

 @ioanashalala    @jencharlan    @deansthirstblog     @dorky-and-i-know-it    @mischief-maker1   

 @winchestersandwordprocessors    @percussiongirl2017    @bringmesomepie56   @akshi8278    @torn-and-frayed  

  @sandlee44   @wingedcatninja  @evansrogerskitten   @emoryhemsworth  @peaceinourtime82 

 @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior  @sarcasmqueen74   @maliburenee     @mrsjenniferwinchester   @yeehawbitchs  

 @emily-winchester  @hobby27    spnbaby-67   @zepskies  @ladysparkles78  

@alwaystiredandconfused   @just-another-busyfangirl

[lastcallatrockysbar]

This is a couple of days late, but the deanwinchesterweek prompt for Music Moment inspired this little drabble in my head, so I’ll share it anyway 😊 Thanks to @firefly-graphics for the divider!

Dean yawned as he started coffee brewing, standing still for a moment to breathe in the enticing aroma. Eyes closed, he smiled to himself. Usually he was the one bracing himself for the next catastrophe, constantly reminding himself that the few hours or days of peace wouldn’t last. But the last few weeks had finally begun to settle into his bones, his outlook shifting.

When she had come into their lives, things had definitely improved. But now that he had finally admitted his feelings and they had started an actual relationship, he found his mood was downright sunny. He shook his head at himself. “Little Mary freaking Sunshine, that’s what you sound like right now,” he berated himself, but he was still smiling as he took a swallow of coffee and pulled out the makings of breakfast.

As he set the carton of eggs down, he reached for the radio, turning on the classic rock channel, grimacing slightly at the current drone of news. He hitched his sweatpants up a little, turning his head as she walked into the room. She barely had her eyes open, shuffling along in her baggy socks and boxer shorts, along with a stolen henley. (She had insisted to him that it had shrunk in the wash, but he doubted it was true – it looked pretty damn good on her, anyway.)

He stepped up behind her and slid an arm around her waist, bending to kiss the side of her neck as she stood with her face practically buried in her coffee mug. “’Mornin’, babe,” he said softly, and she  leaned back into him. She mumbled her reply, and he moved back to the stove. “You want pancakes, or just bacon and eggs?”

The voice on the radio announced a Bob Seger song, and Dean’s face lit up with a grin as the first notes of Old Time Rock and Roll drifted from the speaker. He reached to turn the volume all the way up, grabbing the whisk in his other hand as the second ‘DAH DAH DAH DAH DAH DAH DAH DUH’ echoed through the kitchen. She whirled to face him, eyes wide as he began to bellow out the words into his whisk-mic. “Just take those old records off the shelf…”

She began to giggle as he danced around, singing at the top of his lungs. He reached for the spatula on the counter and handed it to her, eyebrows raised expectantly, then grabbed her hand and dragged her to the open area of the floor. “Sing with me!”

“I like that old time rock and roll!” Their voices rang through the bunker with complete disregard for the notes, the two of them dancing around each other as they wailed into their makeshift microphones.

By the time they reached the last chorus, Sam was standing in the doorway, head shaking in disbelief as he watched them performing with complete abandon. When she turned to see him there, she struck a pose and threw one arm out, pointing a finger at him as they sang one more round of ‘I like that old time rock and roll!’ Sam couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter as he finally walked into the room, heading for the coffee pot.

The song faded to its end, and Dean hugged her, both of them rosy-cheeked and laughing at their own antics. Dean pulled back with a gasp as the guitar riff to Nazareth’s Hair of the Dog blared forth, and Sam turned to throw them an indulgent smirk as he left the kitchen, moving towards the library where the decibel level was a little more ear-friendly. “Now you’re messin’ with a  - son of a bitch!” followed him down the hall as the two self-appointed rock stars scream-sang into their kitchen utensils.

He sat down at the table, shaking his head with a grin. Dean was happier these days – not quieter, but definitely happier.

Tags for my lovelies:  @saenalife​    @deanscarlett​    @jensensgotyoudean​    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis​    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog​    @geeklibrarian​    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​     @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan    @mrswhozeewhatsis​    @littlegreenplasticsoldier​    @sleep-silent-angel​    @darcia22​    @winchesterprincessbride​    @ellen-reincarnated1967​    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess​      @deanslittleangel2y5​    @melanie451​        @spectaculacular-sammy​     @bookchic20​    @jodyri​    @selma-jean-blog​           @savingapplepie-eatingthings​    @kittenofdoomage​    @masked-maiden42​    @lean-mean-deanwinchester​    @ericuhlorain​    @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester​    @typicalweirdbookworm​          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit​    @youtoldalie​    @tanithlowisabamf-blog​    @deandoesthingstome​    @jxackles​    @nerdwholikesword​    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic​    @kreweofimp​  @gabavaldman​    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog​    @darkx143​    @disassociativedogma​    @ioanashalala​    @jencharlan​    @deansthirstblog​     @dorky-and-i-know-it​    @mischief-maker1​    @winchestersandwordprocessors​    @percussiongirl2017​    @bringmesomepie56​   @akshi8278​    @torn-and-frayed​    @sandlee44​   @wingedcatninja​  @evansrogerskitten​   @emoryhemsworth​  @peaceinourtime82​  @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior​  @sarcasmqueen74​   @maliburenee      @mrsjenniferwinchester​   @yeehawbitchs​   @emily-winchester​  @hobby27​

[trexrambling]

Came across your "hey, it's okay" drabble, and, well, in a word/noise: GUH. 💚 I must dive head-first into your masterlist now. Pardon me... :')

Sometimes my supposed to be happy/comfort fics turn into straight angst and...

Hahahaha 🤣 I'm glad you found my fic and enjoyed it! I hope my Masterlist is something you enjoy as well.

Read my prompt request drabble "hey, hey, hey, it's okay... it's okay. you're okay."

[impala1967dwinchester]

Dean Winchester- Little Light

*Credit to myheartofmusic*

Pairing: Dean W. x Wife!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, leaving, spending time away from each other

Summary/Imagine: When Dean has to leave for work, you realize just how much your daughter loves Dean.

Word Count: 992

A/n- @firefly-graphics for awesome dividers, this is being put in the imagine master list.

Main Master List // Dean W.Master List // Imagine Master List

"I don't want to leave the two of you," Dean says as he climbs into the bed with me after putting our four-year-old daughter to bed. I set my novel down on the bedside table. Looking at him over the bridge of my glasses.

"We'll be fine baby," I said, feeling the cold air hit my legs as the sheets settled back down. The frown on Dean's face tells me that my comment isn't going to be enough to calm the never-ending thoughts running through his mind.

"Honey?" He hummed as he crossed his arms over his chest. His head resting against the bed frame. "Please know that we'll be fine." This being the third time I have repeated my phrase in a different way.

"I just..." He tried to say, but he looked lost. The sad look on his face was only making me sadder that he was leaving tomorrow. "Look, Dean, we'll call you every day, and I can have Missy make you all sorts of art," I said trying to show the better side of this situation.

He huffed and opened his dark green eyes for me finally. "You promise?" He asked, a half-cocked smile. "Yes of course baby." The shine in his green eyes started to go away.

"Let's go to sleep now," I suggested taking my glasses off from the bridge of my nose, and setting them on the side table. Looking back at Dean he had already climbed further underneath the sheets.

I clicked the light off and settled next to my husband. I shifted under the sheets until I was comfortable. My head resting on Dean's chest, his arm wrapped around my waist. While our other hand found their way together, linking together our wedding bands hitting each other.

"I love you Y/n." He said raising our linked hands up to his lips and kissing the top of my hand. "I love you too Dean, good night," I said before closing my eyes, and falling into a deep sleep.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of our daughter. Dean and she were sitting up in the bed. I kept my eyes closed for a moment. "Now Missy, you know mommy is a deep sleeper, but she knows when her girl is awake and in her bed," Dean said. I heard Missy giggle before she started to talk. "Dada, we gotta be." She said her small and morning voice was cute. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her tap her finger to her lips imitating something I do with Dean all the time.

"Yes, you're very right baby," Dean said, looking down at me, catching me opening my eyes. "You should see if you can wake up mommy, Missy," Dean suggested. She looked up at her father then quickly down to me. Awaiting the go from him. Dean shook his head. She climbed from Dean's hold, and over to me. Climbing into my lap, from my lap to my chest, and eventually very close to my face. Quietly she whispered into my ear.

"Mommy... you need to wake up. Dada is gonna make me fav.. fav--favorite PANCAKIES" Missy said screaming her favorite breakfast food. I was slow to open my eyes, reaching my hand from under the sheets to grab her sides.

She giggled and squirmed to get away as I began to tickle her. "Dada help me. pease!" Missy said, Dean, smiled and started to tickle me. "Dean don't... don't do that!" My words were interrupted by my giggles. Our daughter started to laugh louder, her green eyes that she got from her father beamed as she all laid in bed together.

By the time Dean had to leave for work, I hadn't even realized that we had spent the entire day just spending time together. Missy was down for her nap when Dean kissed my cheek and went upstairs to take a shower and pack before he left for his trip.

When he came back downstairs. Missy was waking and wondering where Dean had gone. "Where is Dada?" She asked me. "He went to take a bath baby," I said reaching over and grabbing my phone to take a quick picture of her before she clearly woke up.

Her hair was all over the place, but those green eyes reminded me so much of her father. Something that I'll always have even if Dean leaves. "Alrighty" I heard Dean's voice from the staircase. I looked up from Missy. At the sound of Deans' voice, Missy was up and walking towards Dean.

The ping of sadness didn't take long to hit me. Dean was in one of his suits the blue one that contrasts well with his eyes. Missy cocked her head, seeing the bags next to her father's feet. "Dada?" She asked looking up at Dean. I could visible see Dean take a deep breath before picking up our daughter. "Yes, baby?" He said, "are you weave?" Such a smart girl I thought.

"Unfortunately yes, but I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone," Dean said trying to make the welling tears disappear on our daughter's face. "Bu.. But" She tried to say, but the tears took over. I got up from the couch grabbing her from Deans' arms. The tears starting to roll down both of our faces. He kissed my lips and whispered an 'I love you, before pushing his hands through Missy's hair, and kissing her forehead. Grabbing his bags, and his keys.

By the time Dean was in the car and driving away, Missy was full-on crying now, sobbing into my shirt. "I know baby, but Dada will be back before you even know he was gone." For the rest of the time Dean was gone. Missy and I slept in the huge bed. I cradled my four-year-old daughter in my arms, counting the days till Dean came back home to us.

Completed on: 09/04/2021

Posted on: 09/04/2021

Deanie Beanie Tag List: @akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl @hit-meup69 @doctorlilo @ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop @fofisstilinski @flamencodiva

[berettajane]

“You’re going to run, just like the rest. Might as well high-tail it now, Dean--save us both the mess.”

“Never,” Dean swears.

You let out a sad laugh without turning to face him; he thinks you’ve never heard that bullshit before. You continued to pack up your things, only stopping when you felt a hand lightly touch your hip.

“Y/N, please. Look at me,” his voice just above a whisper, his body barely inches away from yours. You slowly turn towards him, tears welling up in your eyes. He means more to you than you can put into words. “I’ll find a new way every day to prove to you that I’m here to stay,” his hand comes up to cup your face. Your eyes flutter closed at his touch, everything about him hijacks all of your senses. “As long as I have you, I’ll have everything I’ve ever wanted and more. Please let me stay, sweetheart.”

Masterlist

AO3: BerettaJane

[sofreddie]

A Little Silly

Summary: Y/N thinks Dean could use a little silly. He doesn't take it well, at first.

Characters: Dean, Reader, Sam (no pairing really)

Warnings: Recreational Marijuana Use, Fluff, Rockin'-TF-out!

Word Count: 495

A/N: My entry for @deanwanddamons Rock SPN Flash Fan Fic Challenge. I chose #37 which is Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne. (Clearly I'm an eager beaver, lol.) So when I listened to the song, this drabble went off in its own weird direction. But I kind of love it. Because they really could use a little silly. : )

Dean and Y/N silently waited in the Bunker, sitting at the large map table as they waited for Sam to return with pizza and beer. Y/N had been trying to playfully tell Dean that he really needed to lighten up and let go. That he could 'use a little silly'. Dean got really defensive - which she thought kind of proved her point - and it turned into a minor, awkward argument.

"I'll be right back," she blurted out as she darted down the hall. She returned moments later, a makeup bag in her hands.

"What's that?" Dean asked, his curiosity getting the better of him and making him temporarily forget his minor ire.

She smirked, digging in the bag and pulling out several items - a bag of weed, a few small cigars, and some other tools it appeared. Within moments she had rolled a blunt, and Dean suddenly realized she did this often. How had he missed that?

As he watched her light, inhale, and blow out the heavy smoke, he decided - fuck it - he'd join her. It had been years since he'd smoked. He just didn't have the occasion. Maybe he did need to lighten up a little.

Sam had been gone less than an hour as he parked the Impala in the garage. He made his way inside with dinner before his nose crinkled with an odd smell. He could smell smoke.

As he drifted further within the building, he could see the smoke and hear loud music in the distance. Finally turning into the war room, he was shocked, jaw dropped open at the sight before him.

The room was overwhelmingly smokey, swirling around and laying thick and heavy in the air. Y/N was standing on the map table, hairbrush in hand as she belted out the lyrics to Crazy Train.

Dean, however, was a sight to behold. Sam carefully set the food and beer on the table, his eyes locked on his brother. At least, he was pretty sure it was his brother.

Dean's hair was a bit messy. His eyes barely slits. He grinned with the lit blunt between his teeth as he jammed out his best air guitar. Seeing Sam, Dean's eyes widened slightly. Suddenly, he did a dramatic stage slide on his knees towards Sam, his arm moving in an arc as he mimed a power chord.

Dean took the blunt from between his lips and passed it to Sam with a smile as he stood. Sam accepted it, taking a whiff and making a face before shrugging and hitting it several times.

"You could use a little silly," Dean said to his brother with a chuckle. His whole body was lax. Sam hadn't seen him this relaxed in years.

"Plagiarist!" Y/N accused Dean as he mimicked her words to him. She hopped off the table, exchanging her hairbrush for the blunt. Sam grinned and did his best Ozzy.

Sometimes a little crazy could be a good thing.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

Dean Winchester:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

[lynhub]

࿐all i see is you ྀft. d.w 18+

⋆˚࿔entry from lyn.ᐟ this was heavily indulgent because im obsessed with tunnel vision from justin timberlake. i also love a man who yearns so i had to write this while it was fresh in my brain!!! i literally listened to the song the entire time i wrote this that's how obsessed i am with it. also it's been awhile since i wrote something so long so if it's bad oopsies i didn't even bother proof reading, but i hope you guys enjoy. ━love, lyn.ᐟ ⋆˚࿔overview ━ dean find's himself hung up on you. everyone and everything disappearing as long as your in the room with him. (not the best at writing summaries sorry.) ⋆˚࿔warnings ━ smut of course essentially PWP cause i never not write smut hello?? so minors dont interact. minor fingering not really, oral (fem receiving) and then piv.... yearning dean winchester if that counts! i think that's all? if im forgetting anything let me know!!

wordcount: 2.6k

it felt like there were a million people in the crowded bar, voices sounding out over the clinking glasses and low music — but his focus never shifted. it was on you. his feelings weren’t new — maybe more intense lately — but now? now it was like you were all he saw. what seemed like a meaningless crack in his playboy facade was so much more. the walls he spent his entire life building are beginning to crumble, brick by brick, and somewhere inside them laid his heart. the same heart he’s learned to guard like his life depended on it. maybe it did. that’s just part of the job. and yet, it hasn’t stopped you — from slipping past every defense, carving out a space in his world, his brother’s life as well. 

and maybe it’s damn him, but he let you.

he’s been breaking every single rule since you met. 

he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. not when it’s you. not with the way you treat him and sammy so gently after hunts, patching them up with steady hands and reassurances. not with the way you managed to bring out that warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach — the ones he used to swear were bullshit. he knew he was in deep. hell, he knew that. but for the first time in his entire life, he couldn’t bring himself to care. and it was beginning to become clear to him.

because as soon as your gaze met his — a smile on that obnoxiously gorgeous face — something in his heart fluttered. maybe it stopped for a second, he wasn’t sure. one thing he was for sure about though, he needed you to always look at him like that. as if he quite literally hung the damn moon and stars in the sky for you. as if he created that cheesy rom com that you always rewatched, the one you always randomly quoted when convenient. 

he needed you to be happy so he could see that smile on your face, the one that seemed to brighten any room you walked into. he needed you. bad at that. 

and he was willing to do just about anything to have you.

dean’s gaze reluctantly breaks away from you, turning to glance around the packed bar. it was a friday night so it wasn’t a surprise to see what kind of people ended up strolling through the doors — loud laughter, random conversations, a healthy mix of men and women loitering through the dim atmosphere. his gaze moved across the other patrons' faces, but for some reason it was like their features blurred. he couldn’t even pretend to act interested in the other women currently checking him out. they might as well not even exist.

it’s like his gaze is being dragged back to you, practically pulled by some invisible force he didn’t have the strength — or the will really — to fight. his eyes settling on your form, clad in those too-tight jeans and black tank top. it was casual, but it was the hottest damn thing he’s ever seen.

you must’ve been able to feel his eyes on you, not a minute later, you were turning to face him again. this time rather than turning away, you push off the bar and weave through the crowd, a drink in hand, a little smile playing at the corner of your lips. dean did what he could to mask his expression into something more neutral, something that didn’t look completely entranced with the sight of you walking towards him. but the sway of your hips had him trying to bite back a groan. 

“see something you like, dean?” you asked, sliding onto the seat next to him, your voice an obvious jest. 

dean only huffed out a quiet laugh, eyes flicking over you briefly before settling back on your face. “you were the one standin’ in my line of sight.”

“is that what you are going with?” you take a sip of your drink, not breaking eye contact. “im pretty positive you’ve been staring at me since i got here. nice try though.”

he tilts his head, lips twitching into a faint smirk. “what if i have?”

you leaned in a little, close enough that he could smell your perfume — something sweet and warm and so goddamn you. “i guess it’s a good thing that i don’t mind you looking.”

dean’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, jaw flexing as if he was holding back from saying everything he was thinking. 

god help him, but if you stayed this close, he wasn’t going to be responsible for what happens next.

you can’t help but smile at him again, it’s like you're reading his thoughts. “you look like you got a lot on your mind,” you said, your grin widening, “which is… shocking for you.”

dean's jaw visibly tightens. this goddamn woman. only you could manage to draw him in and push his buttons at the same time. “real funny, sweetheart.”

you can’t fight off the laugh, head tipping back at his reaction. “you are awfully tense tonight,” you snicker, eyes dancing with amusement.

dean shifts around on the bar stool, his body rigid, jaw tight. you had him practically backed into a corner without even realizing it — just a few words, a grin, and that fucking laugh. he rolls his shoulders, trying to play it cool, but the tension in his body is humming. his knee bouncing restlessly. “you ever think that maybe it’s your fault i’m tense?” he huffs, eyes not leaving you. 

you raise your brows at him, feigning innocence as you take a sip of your drink. “me?” you prod, lips quirking as if you knew the answer. “can’t imagine why i’d have anything to do with that.”

dean let out a scoff, the sound more of a breath than laugh. he knew that you were baiting him and damn it was working. it worked every time. you didn’t even have to try, and he was spiraling. 

“i think you might be projecting, winchester,” you say, head tilting slightly, eyes locked on his.

something in him snaps. it’s like a floodgate opens, before you can even react, he’s leaning forward — closer, gaze zeroed in on you like you’re the only thing in the room. “i don’t know what you’re doin’ to me,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, like it’s a struggle to speak for him. “but i got like fuckin’ tunnel vision for you or somethin’.”

silence hangs heavy between you, his words permeating through the air. they’re intense, full of conviction, and you let them settle between you two. your eyes are searching for a hint of deception — but all you see is a jumble of emotion you’ve never seen before. or maybe you just hadn’t let yourself look.

dean fucking winchester is sitting here, telling you that all he sees is you.

it feels like time slows down. 

now it’s dean’s eyes searching your face, trying to gauge any kind reaction. in this very moment, the cocky persona is gone — peeled off and thrown to the side as if it is armor that no longer fits. embarrassment settles in, worry and almost fear painting his face like he’s said too much. like he just crossed some invisible line that he won’t be able to step back over. thoughts whirl in his mind like a damn tornado, it’s messy and panicked, but louder than all of them is a desperate hope — for a mutual feeling.

your breath catches in your throat, as acknowledgment begins to simmer in your mind. it’s like something you’ve known deep down is finally rising to the surface. your hand reaches out, gentle and unrushed, fingers brushing against his resting on the bar. it’s a small touch, but to dean it means everything. 

“i see you, dean,” your voice is quiet but strong, the corners of your mouth lifting slightly. “i have for a while now.”

his eyes snap back up to yours, and for the first time since he saw you enter the bar tonight, there’s no tension in them — just something akin to affection. 

he doesn’t say anything for a moment.

he just stares at you for a second — like he’s trying to commit everything to memory — suddenly, his hand moves. it’s quick, resolute, like he no longer has hesitation in him anymore after hearing you confirm what he needed to hear. his palm slides along your jaw, tilting you face up, his lips pressing against yours. 

it’s not a soft kiss. nor is it a cautious kiss. it’s the kind of kiss that’s been bubbling for months — all heat and desperation, a low rumble in his chest as he finally feels himself let go. his other hand moves to grip your hip, like he’s trying to keep you in place so you don’t disappear. almost like a reminder that you’re real. 

you kiss him back, matching his intensity, fingers curling into the front of his leather jacket. your mind focused solely on dean, on how good this kiss feels — how right it feels.  

you’re the first to pull back from the heated kiss, dean’s lips chasing yours. your breathing is ragged as you manage to pant out words.

“maybe we should go somewhere else,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, eyes dancing around the crowded bar. a blaring reminder you both are in public. 

dean’s green eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling quickly. “yeah,” he rasps. “we definitely should.”

you don’t share anymore words — he grabs your hand and pulls you through the crowd, letting yourself be led out the door and into the cool night. the impala’s parked far enough away, waiting in the dark as if it knows what’s about to happen. 

rather than opening the passenger door, the back door is the one being hastily opened. as soon as you get in his lips are back on yours, his hands moving to explore your body, his actions greedy. he presses you back against the seat, one of his hands sliding under your shirt — he’s desperate to touch your bare skin. 

“you have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart,” he mutters out, his lips pressing against the column of your neck. 

you can take a guess of what you are doing to him. 

“been thinkin’ about this,” he whispers, voice gravelly and thick as he pulls your tank top over your head. “about you. about how goddamn good i know you’d feel.”

you tug at his belt, fingers fumbling clumsily, your urgency not missed as he huffs a breath against your neck – a sound resembling a groan and laugh. “easy, sweetheart,” he teases, but it’s not fully there, he’s just as desperate, pulling at your jeans roughly. 

dean pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark, lips swollen and darker from kissing, his voice hoarse when he speaks.

“wanna taste you,” he says, it’s practically a moan, almost like he’s already imagining it. “been wantin’ to for so goddamn long. please, sweetheart, can i?”

your eyes look up at his face, you breath hitching as you take in his expression — there’s no teasing — just pure desire. you give him a nod, permission for him to continue.

he slides down on the seat between your legs, not wasting a second as he fully tugs down your jeans and panties. the cool air brushing against your skin before his mouth replaces it, his mouth hot and persistent. his tongue flicks over you, going slow at first, wanting to hear the way your breath hitches for him. a deep groan leaves his mouth as if you’re the one ruining him, it’s like this is one of the only things he’s ever wanted. his hands grip your thighs, holding you open for him as his tongue moves with a purpose — exploration.

“fuck,” he mutters hoarsely against you, voice vibrating through your core. “you taste so fuckin’ good.”

he’s practically devouring you like a man starved, eyes occasionally darting up to watch how you fall apart for him. every moan, roll of your hips up against his mouth, just serves to make him more desperate. he slides one of his thick fingers inside of you while his tongue keeps working, curling just right, he’s becoming perfectly in tune with your body. 

and when your hand moves to fist in his hair, when your thighs finally start shaking around his head, he lets out another groan, reality setting in that he’s never been happier than between your thighs. 

you’re so close to the peak it’s almost unbearable — your hands tangling in his hair harder, hips grinding against his mouth as he pushes you closer and closer to that edge. 

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your slick folds, voice lower. “let go for me, i got you. wanna feel you come undone on my tongue.”

his filthy words are all it takes. 

your back arches off the seat as your orgasm crashes into you, it’s white-hot and blinding. a broken cry of his name falling from your lips, fingers pulling hard at his hair as he helps you ride it out, his tongue never ceasing his lapping actions against you — like he doesn’t want to stop. he holds you through it, letting your body shake beneath him, his gaze locked on your face like he wants to memorize it. 

finally you breathing begins to slow, your thighs trembling still and your body feeling like jello is when he finally pulls back. his mouth is slick, jaw clenched again, pupils still blown wide. he looks desperate.

“you’re fuckin’ lethal, you know that?” he grunts, moving up your body. he kisses you. it’s deep, as he lets you taste yourself on his tongue as he fumbles with his belt that you were unable to get off, tired of waiting. 

“you sure?” he asks, he’s barely hanging on, forehead pressing against yours, the gentleness of his question is a stark contrast from the way he’s practically humping against your thigh.

“yes,” you mumble. “please, dean.”

the whiny tone of your words is all he needs.

he pushes into you with a groan, slow yet thick and deep, filling you in a way that makes you both moan. his hands dig into your hips, holding you still as he starts moving, each thrust dedicated and needy.

“fuck,” he pants, dropping his head to your shoulder, voice tight with barely there restraint. “you feel so good… so fuckin’ good. been dreamin’ about you for so long now.”

you wrap your legs tightly around him, drawing him in deeper, eagerly meeting each thrust with a moan. his lips are pressing back to yours — the kiss sloppy —- as the pace picks up, skin slick with sweat while tangled limbs move in a desperate, needy rhythm. all the previous tensions, all the need, crashing over you both wave after wave. neither of you know where one ends and the other begins.

“gonna come,” he grunts, voice barely a whisper, his forehead pressing back against yours. “wanna come with you. need to feel you come around me, sweetheart.”

and you do, offering him what he wanted.

you tighten around him, clenching hard as your second orgasm of the night rips through you — this one louder and messier. dean follows closely behind, a guttural moan leaving the back of his throat, hips stuttering as he spills inside you, he’s still holding you close as if he’s afraid you will disappear. his body eventually collapses on top of you. 

you both lie there absolutely wrecked and exhausted. 

the air in the impala is heavy with heat and the scent of sex, the fogged windows offering a slight semblance of privacy as the adrenaline begins to fade. dean’s still nestled inside you, neither of you bothering to move. 

he knows there’s no coming back from this —- emotions running too deep, lines crossed.

he should care. he really should. 

but he doesn't. 

not when he’s got you now.

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist | dean winchester masterlist

[rizlowwritessortof]

Take a Shot

Written for @artyandink 's Jensen-a-thon event!

Let's face it, his henley looks good on both of you...

Pairing: Dean x F. Reader

Word Count: 935

Warnings: Nothing but a little good old-fashioned sexual tension, no smut, but Dean being Dean is a warning in itself 🔥🔥🔥 (Dividers by the absolutely lovely Daisy @firefly-graphics )

The tile floor is cool on your bare feet as you walk down the hall, your mind focused on the banana pudding left in the fridge from earlier tonight. If you can’t fall asleep, you might as well eat, right?

It’s kind of nice in the bunker when everyone else is in bed, only the dim light from the night lights that are always on in all the common rooms, the quiet hum of some mysterious machinery in the background, whatever it is that keeps the power on in this place. You shiver a little, the air cool on your legs. Why bother with pants when nobody else is around, anyway?

You’re halfway through the library on your way to the kitchen when Dean’s voice makes you nearly jump out of your skin, your heart pounding hard as you whirl around to face him. He’s standing across the room, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in hand, his eyes shadowed in the half-dark. “Is that my shirt?”

“Damn it, Dean, you scared the living shit out of me!” you scold, your hand on your chest, trying to keep your heart from pounding its way free. “Why are you up? I thought you went to bed a couple of hours ago!”

An amused smile curves his lips. “Backatcha, sweetheart.”

“Well – I – I couldn’t go to sleep. So I wanted a snack.”

“Yeah, well, same here, and I wanted a drink. Mystery solved.” It’s slowly dawning on you that you’re half-dressed, and you feel the blush move up your neck, your cheeks warming as he stares you down. “You never answered me. Is that my shirt?”

You’re wearing a cream-colored henley that you may or may not have stolen – borrowed – when you were doing laundry last weekend. It’s so soft, and so big (because it’s his) and comfy, and yes, if you were being honest, you like wearing it because it belongs to him. It’s been against his skin. And you would deny that even under threat of torture.

“Yes, okay, I borrowed your shirt. And just for your information, I wouldn’t have come out here like this if I knew you were lurking around.”

“I’m not lurking. And just for your information, I don’t mind you coming out here like that.” In fact, he’s thoroughly enjoying the way his shirt looks on you. It’s soft, and it’s clinging just right to show every detail of the curves beneath – not to mention your perky nipples. No, he doesn’t really mind at all.

You can see his eyes sparkle even in the poor lighting, and you hope he can’t see your blush from where he’s standing. “Well, stop staring.” You turn your back and flounce from the room, heading to the kitchen and hoping with everything in you that the henley is covering your ass. You brush your hand back there, relieved that it is – barely – and walk resolutely to the fridge. Seriously, what the hell is he doing up, anyway?

You take the container and toss the lid into the sink, grabbing a spoon from the nearby drawer, and lean against the counter, taking a spoonful of the creamy treat and closing your eyes as it hits your tongue. So good. Totally worth a little embarrassment.

“So, you gonna share, or what?” You jump, startled again glaring up at him as he approaches.

“For fuck’s sake, Dean, could you wear a bell or something?” A thoroughly devilish grin flashes for a second, but he manages to rein it in quickly. You scoop another spoonful of the pudding, but he takes your hand in his and steers it up towards his mouth. You watch as he takes it in, those sinful lips closing around it and his eyes blinking slowly as he savors it with a soft hum. You feel your legs wobble a little, and things are clenching that should not be clenching just from watching someone eat banana pudding.

“That’s good.” He lets go of your hand, and after a couple of seconds you actually remember to take it back. You force your eyes down, but now the view is his shoulders and chest underneath another henley from his collection, this one a midnight blue, and he’s wearing sweats and his feet are bare. And you are hopelessly screwed. “Thought you were hungry,” he teases as you stand there with the empty spoon in the air, trying to remember how to breathe.

“I am – I was,” you stammer.

“Then why aren’t you eating?” He laughs softly at your defiant frown.

“Because you’re distracting me.”

“You started it.” You stare up at him, your eyes wide.

“Since when do you get distracted by me? You barely even notice me.”

“Shows how much you know.” You still stare at him skeptically, and he gnaws a bit at that plush lower lip before he continues. “Every night I walk by your door and I picture in my head what you might be wearing to bed. Some nights… well, let’s just say I really wanna open that door.”

You set the container of pudding and the spoon on the counter beside you, never taking your eyes off him. “Then why haven’t you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m afraid you’ll tell me to get lost.”

You’re starting to smile now. “You know what they say, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”

Dean steps up close, his hand moving to stroke over your shoulder and down, curling his fingers around your arm as he leans in, his voice rumbling in your ear. “Oh, sweetheart – I don’t miss.”

Tags for my lovelies: 

 @saenalife    @deanscarlett    @jensensgotyoudean    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog 

   @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid      @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel  

  @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess      @deanslittleangel2y5  

  @melanie451        @spectaculacular-sammy     @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean-blog   

        @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain  

  @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester    @typicalweirdbookworm          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit    @youtoldalie 

   @tanithlowisabamf-blog    @deandoesthingstome    @jxackles    @nerdwholikesword    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic  

  @kreweofimp  @gabavaldman    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog    @darkx143    @disassociativedogma   

 @ioanashalala    @jencharlan    @deansthirstblog     @dorky-and-i-know-it    @mischief-maker1   

 @winchestersandwordprocessors    @percussiongirl2017    @bringmesomepie56   @akshi8278    @torn-and-frayed  

  @sandlee44   @wingedcatninja  @evansrogerskitten   @emoryhemsworth  @peaceinourtime82 

 @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior  @sarcasmqueen74   @maliburenee     @mrsjenniferwinchester   @yeehawbitchs  

 @emily-winchester  @hobby27    spnbaby-67   @zepskies

[supernaturalfreewill]

The door swung open and Dean had been about to say something snarky to Sam when he saw who was hobbling in with him, bruised up and limping. “Surprise,” you said weakly as Sam kicked the door shut behind you. Dean jumped up, his face clouded with concern and his green eyes flashing. “What the hell--Y/N! What are you--what happened?!” Sam helped you sit down in a chair in the corner and you winced and wrapped an arm around your ribs. “Gangs all here, huh? I have to say, I wasn’t really expecting a reunion on this case.”  Dean was slowly wandering over toward you with a look of disbelief on his face. “What the hell?” he said again. “What are you doing here?” You met his green eyes for the first time and Dean felt a rush. It’d been so long since he’d seen you. “Hunting.” “How is that going?” he asked. He reached out and gently clasped your chin, turning it slightly so he could look at the purple bruise across your cheekbone. You caught his eyes again. “Peachy.” You hadn’t meant for it to come out as a whisper. Sam couldn’t help but smile fondly at how his brother always softened around you. Without fail, no matter what was happening, it was like you could break him open, even when he was holding himself closed so hard his hands were shaking. “Here,” Sam said, breaking the spell between you and Dean to hand you an ice pack. “Put that on that shiner you earned and then you can tell Dean and I who or what we need to kill for beating you up like this.” “Already got it,” you said, pressing the ice pack over your face. Dean smiled. “I’d expect nothing less.”

[deansmultitudes]

Dean still remembers the fetor of rot. It obscured the wooden smell of his pine box and the moldy scent of the soil above him. There was nothing rotting in that casket. Not anymore. He was whole. At least, his body was.

It was not, by far, the worst stink he’s ever smelled. He’s been through sewage, he’s been through toilets at the back of the gas stations, he’s been through the traces of sulfur beneath his fingernails and on top of his bones. And it could never come close to the stench of seared meat—human meat—melting fat, dripping off the tissue only to fuel the flames.

But it’s that fetor of rot, concentrated in his tiny space and nauseatingly sweet, that every so often floods him in his sleep and lingers once he’s awake. And the room is dark and the sheets weigh heavy on him like six feet of that soil and he’s back in that box, back in that epicenter of a miraculous blast that brought him back, made him whole. Kept the stench.

Tonight is one of those nights.

His arm thrusts up, like a twitch. Doesn’t hit the lid. His nails won’t have to bleed again, he won’t have to claw his way out, crawl through the splinters biting into his skin, dig through the dirt as his lungs cry for air.

They still gasp for it; deep, heavy gulps of air. And the deeper he inhales, the thicker the odor, spilling into his throat like molasses. Like rot.

Calm down. He must slow down his breathing, quiet it, quiet his mind. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s been twelve years. How is this still happening?

Tonight, of all nights. Not that he’s been marking the calendar.

And it’s not even hell. It’s just decomposing; it’s death. Or maybe it’s life. Or maybe it’s that, for a hunter, it’s been too damn many coffins, between pine and metal. The only way he’ll go out for good is a pyre and the scent of ash and the scent of burned meat on the crackling fire and the dark, rising smoke.

But it’s not now, yet. Because he has God to defeat and the world to save. And if the last twelve, or fifteen, or forty-one years taught him something it’s that he’s not gonna make it easy or pretty.

And that he’ll kick and bite and claw the entire way through.

The only thing that’ll go rotting will be the corpse of God.

Dean breathes in and out, slowly. The air’s cleared, the fetor’s gone. There’s only the faint scent of old books, and empty beer bottles, and the mostly worn out fragrance of the cheap washing powder in his sheets.

He’s only home, safe for the moment, and free.

He can go back to sleep. Tomorrow’s just another day.

[cursed-or-not]

Dean doesn’t know what it’s like to hope.

He’s not sure if he ever did. “Young and innocent” was never his brand, naivete never his poison, but sometimes, he can’t explain how soft something in him turns when he thinks of the future.

It’s snowing the first time Cas asks.

“What are you hoping for, when all this is over?” Cas asks, all cold hands and warm smile.

Snowflakes spiral down.

Dean laughs it back at him, because “hope” was never in the cards, but Cas just inches closer until their hands touch.

Dean knows what it’s like to want.

Sam * Jack * Cas

[trexrambling]

can I ask for another Touches drabble? Kisses 26 with Dean please?

"giggling while kissing" *for some reason, this one didn’t flow super well for me, but I’m *okay* with the end result

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

“Shhhhhhh, you’re going to wake up Sam!”

I slap my hand over my mouth, trying to control the laughter that’s doing its best to push its way through. Dean steers me through the motel door by my shoulders, helping to stabilize my off-balance footsteps.  

“Dean, did you see the look on their faces-”

“You are whisper shouting right now.”

“-when I freaking-” I slap his shoulder, a snort escaping my nose- “when I emptied off that pitcher and then reached for the next one?” I’m wheezing at this point, knees giving out as I hunch over.

He closes the door and then readjusts his grip on me, my back finding the wall as he holds me upright with his own body. “Pretty sure no one was expecting you to outdrink that guy, me included. But it’s late, so if you could maybe tone it down a little-”

Another giggle slips through alongside a hiccup. “Why didn’t we bet money on that, on me? We would have cleared the house-”

His lips are suddenly over mine, silencing my words but doing little to stop my relentless laughter. I feel him smile against my mouth, and then he readjusts his hold on me to deepen the kiss. I manage to stop long enough to draw in a breath through my nose so I don’t pass out from the lack of oxygen, refocus my brain as I lean into his next kiss.

He pulls away a few seconds later, his forehead resting against mine, a goofy grin on his face. “You are something else, you know that?”

“Shhhhhh,” I reply, a finger against his lips, “no talking. Can’t wake Sammy.”

“I’ve been awake ever since you two stampeded through the door.” Sam’s voice carries across the room, thick with sleep and agitation. “Now shut up and go to sleep.”

Dean and I freeze, looking at each other with wide eyes, and then we’re both laughing as he picks me up off the floor and into his arms, carrying me across the room, held tightly to his chest. 

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

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist Dean Winchester Oneshots Dean Winchester Series

**Contains smut, *smut-adjacent stuff more than kissing haha. Ordered newest to oldest. Individual warnings vary.

Imagines, Gif Drabbles, etc.

**Enjoy the Show (Demon Dean; ft. Steve Rogers)

*The Best Remedy (with Bucky Barnes)

*Trust Me

*Can’t Keep My Hands to Myself

*What I Need

Imagine...finding out there’s fanfic written about you--and even Charlie ships you with Dean

Imagine...being a demon and hunting Dean down

82 Days

**Tonight, I’m in Charge

“You Like the Glasses”

Imagine...experiencing your worst nightmare

A Friendly Wager

Dean Pep Talk

Wake Up Call

[idreamofplaid]

All Dean Wants

Summary: Dean has known much happy or Christmas in his life. Tonight everything changes.

Characters: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 532

A/N: It’s a drabble for Day 6 of Half Christmas! ❤️🎄

*none of the images are mine

I’m simple. That’s the truth of it. I never wanted much of anything, really. Baby, an open road, Zeppelin on the radio. And I wanted Sam safe. I would have done anything to keep him safe. I still would. I want Sam to live a long life and be happy. Always have. That’s all I wanted until Chuck got inventive and dropped you into my life. You showed me I deserve to want something for me, and I do. I want you. 

That’s why I have a ring in my pocket. That’s why I asked Sam to go spend a few days at Jody’s. That’s why I put up a damn Christmas tree in the bunker. It’s a surprise. I know you love Christmas. So I put up lights, stockings, and a tree. I know what Christmas is supposed to look like even if I’ve never really had one. You’re never going to know a life without Christmas. I promise you that. 

The life I’m going to give you has a house with a big kitchen where I can cook, a fireplace we can sit in front of at night, and a backyard where our kids can play. Two. Three. Maybe even four, if you’re game. They will not know how to shoot a gun before they’re ten, and they won’t look for monsters under their beds that they know are real because I’m going to give you a life without monsters.

I’m getting out, Y/N. I’ve done my part making the world safe. I’m not opposed to sharing what I’ve learned with other hunters, but my days of making salt circles are over. I’ve talked to Sam about it, and he’s good with it. Says he knew this would happen as soon as he saw the way I looked at you. He tells me he has plenty of backup, not to worry. And I’m not. I believe he can handle it.

Everything goes the way I want it to? This will be the last Christmas I’m living in this bunker. Next year I’ll be smack in the middle of my life with you. That idea is making my heart beat fast. I pour myself another glass of eggnog and add some extra rum for courage. 

The liquid Christmas cheer has taken the edge off my nerves by the time I hear the bunker door open and you walking down the stairs. The look on your face when you see what I’ve done, that’s what I want. That’s what I want forever. “Dean, it’s...a tree. It’s beautiful.” You run into my arms, and I close my eyes so I can really feel you. Your hair is soft against my cheek, and it smells like apples. I hold you close to me and think about never letting you go.

You eyes have that sparkle in them that’s all you when you look up at me. You have opened the world to me, Y/N. I want to give it back to you. You taught me to say the words I couldn’t say. I love you, Y/N, and the thing I want most for Christmas is for you to say yes.

Everything Forever: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @maddiepants @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @iknowwheremytowelis @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @oldfreakything

Dean/Jensen Love: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr​ @waywardrose13​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ @focusonspn​ @akshi8278​ @ladywinchester1967​ @sgarrett49​ @wingedcatninja​ @coffee-obsessed-writer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @ellewritesfix05​