#dean x plus size reader

[spnexploration]

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Happy birthday Dean Winchester! Here's a quick one-shot I whipped up to celebrate.

This also fulfils the 'Plus Size' square of my @spnaubingo 2023 bingo card, even though it's 2024... I'm late, I know, but I still want to do some more of it!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus sized!reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Couple of crap comments from a random, some not-great self-esteem and a drunk character, but nothing particularly bad.

Synopsis: A man you're interviewing makes some crap comments about your body, and Dean doesn't help. Can he make it up to you?

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“Which one’s the father?” The sleazy guy joked. My stomach dropped.

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, it’s alright love, I know the real father’s probably suffering somewhere alone while you’re off gallivanting with your workmates. I’m surprised he lets you out, really.”

The urge to punch the witness we were interviewing was overwhelming. Rather than ruin the case, I turned on my heel and marched out.

Fuck that guy. I’m not pregnant and I’m not screwing either of the Winchesters.

I heard Dean’s FBI agent tone of voice as he started speaking behind me. Great to see they were all just moving on with their lives, I thought sarcastically.

---

📱 Where are you? We’re going to the next witness’s house

A text came in from Dean. I read it but didn’t reply.

📱 You ok?

I sighed. Finally, he asks.

📱 Fine. I’ll catch up with you later

I replied. He sent me a thumbs up, I rolled my eyes.

I kicked at the ground and started the walk back into town. Sam and Dean would probably try and make me feel better, but I knew that wasn’t happening. I looked down at my soft, flabby belly that I’d tried multiple times to lose.

I walked.

---

I felt a bit absurd, getting tipsy this early. It wasn’t that I felt like I had to drink to get over the comment. It was just  that I’d gotten back to the motel room and was feeling a bit morose, and there was nothing to do. I’d tapped out of the case and I was bored. I went for another wander and this stupid town had nothing in it but a pub, and so somehow I’d ended up here, starting drinking a lot earlier than normal.

And now I looked like I was drinking my feelings, when I wasn’t.

 Not that there was anyone looking at me anyway.

Well, except in disgust. Who knew how many more people in here thought I was pregnant too. Probably thought I was harming an unborn baby, right now.

Fuck them.

---

“You know there’s still a monster on the loose?” Dean said gruffly, a frown on his face. I guess it’d been easy to find me given how few things there were in this town.

“You struggling without me?” I didn’t think I was slurring too much, but his expression did not improve when I started talking.

“How you going to fight one off like this?” he gestured to me.

“You think a few drinks are why I’m fat?” I said sarcastically.

“I’m not calling you fat, I’m calling you drunk.”

“Right,” I said with an eyeroll.

“Come on, get in the car,” he said, trying to tug my arm.

“Fuck off Dean! I can drink if I want to. There’s nothing else to do in this shithole, anyway.”

He dropped my arm and stomped off to the bar.

I turned back to my drink. Sam came and sat opposite me. You can’t escape the bloody Winchesters.

“Hey, you ok?” he asked with his puppy dog eyes.

“I’m fine. I had a free afternoon, I came to get a drink. Is that fucking crime now?”

“I meant about what happened with the guy. You seemed pretty upset.”

“Surprised you could see that, you were both so busy being silent.”

“Didn’t you hear Dean?”

“How could I hear Dean when he wasn’t saying anything?”

“No, he laid right into the guy.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I heard Dean get right back into his FBI voice as I walked off.”

“Yeah, he was still in character at first, told the guy that he needed to speak respectfully to Agents. And then when the guy was still a douche he got a bit more Dean and threatened to punch his lights out if he didn’t shut up about you.”

I laughed into my drink. I was sure Sam was embellishing, there was just no way Dean would care that much about someone being mean to me.

Speak of the devil, Dean appeared again, tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He put the water in front of me.

“Thanks, but I don’t accept drinks from strangers,” I said sarcastically.

“I’m not having you hung over tomorrow and being a liability to the case, drink the water.”

“I don’t remember electing you.”

“Jesus, you’re even more belligerent when drunk. Just drink the water and stop moping.”

“I’m not moping!”

“The guy was an asshole, no one thinks you look pregnant. But you can’t just drink yourself blotto and get yourself killed every time someone says something mean to you.”

I stood up, grabbed the glass of water and upended it all over Dean’s face. Then I marched out the door.

The effect was a little ruined by my drunken stagger, though.

---

Sam caught my arm as I got outside. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“I walked myself here, I can walk myself home!”

“I’m pretty sure you were walking in a straight line when you got here though. Come on.”

I let him tug me to the Impala. He must’ve grabbed the keys off Dean before chasing after me.

“He’s just worried about you,” he said gently as we were exiting the carpark. “Doesn’t want you getting hurt.”

“That does not give him a free pass to behave like that.”

---

Dean stood over me, a glass of water and a couple of painkillers in his hands. “Morning, sunshine. Need some relief?”

I gratefully reached out. Man, I did not normally drink that much.

“What time is it?”

 “Time to work the case.”

I groaned, “Can’t you do it without me?”

“No, come on, back on the horse.”

“It’s not the horse that’s the problem, it’s the dog that bit me.”

“I did tell you to drink water,” he said smugly.

“Fuck off!” I threw my pillow at him. He easily deflected but wisely left me alone after that.

I groaned and got off the couch I’d been sleeping on, slumping to the bathroom. The boys were sitting around the tiny table, already dressed and looking at their laptops.

Sam was gone when I came out, freshly showered, dressed and feeling slightly more human. I looked at Dean with a clear question on my face.

“He’s gone for coffee, thought you could use some.”

“Thanks.”

“I, uh,” Dean continued, more hesitantly, “I owe you an apology.”

I crossed my arms across my chest. An apology from Dean was a rare thing, but I was wary it was going to end up being a backhanded insult instead. I often felt like I needed to protect my heart from being hurt by him.

“I was worried about you getting hurt when I saw you were drunk. But I just tried to solve the problem, I didn’t actually talk to you, and I,” he paused, biting his lip, “I shouldn’t do that.”

“Nice to see I’m just a problem,” I replied sarcastically. I wasn’t sure why he was riling me so much, but I still felt so hurt and angry.

He stood up and came over to me. “You’re not a problem,” he said quietly, trying to look into my eyes. I ducked my head away from the intensity of his look. “And I am sorry that asshat upset you.”

“I didn’t get drunk just because some guy called me pregnant, you know.” I could hear how defensive I sounded, despite my best efforts not to.

“It’s a shitty thing he did anyway. You’re beautiful.”

I laughed mirthlessly.

“Don’t do that,” he said quietly. “Don’t put yourself down all the time.”

“Dean, your idea of beautiful is tall, thin, busty and great hair.”

“That’s not true.”

“Well, they’re all thin at least.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

“The women you sleep with, the women you hit on.”

“I can think of many women I’ve hit on who aren’t ‘thin’, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Suuuure,” I said with an eye roll.

“But I haven’t hit on many women lately, been distracted by one in particular.”

“Let me guess, beautiful?”

“Absolutely.”

“My point exactly. It’s ok Dean, you don’t have to ma-” Dean’s fingers found my chin, nudging it up so I would like at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t made you feel it.”

I stared at him, mouth agape. Absolutely stunned into silence.

“And I’m sorry again that I was a bit of a dick yesterday.”

His face came even closer, watching my reactions.

“You’re my weak spot,” he whispered.

“No, I’m not.” I put my hands on his chest, “Dean, this isn’t funny, don’t tease me.”

He dropped his hand from my chin, looking hesitant. “Sweetheart, I’m putting my heart on the line here, I’m not teasing.”

My hands slackened.

He edged a tiny bit forward.

His tongue darted out and back in. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

Was this even real?

How was this happening?

His hand came up to cup my cheek.

I leant forward.

The world suddenly sped up again. Dean moved in, closing the gap between us and bringing his lips to mine. I lost myself in the tenderness of his touch, the softness of his lips, the  exploration of his tongue and mine.

A sudden noise made us pull apart. Sam was standing in the doorway, cardboard holder with coffees in one hand and the other on his hip.

“I’m happy for you guys and all, but we still have a case to work. You can pick this up later.”

.

.

.

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

What if Crowley(spn) had a kid and the Winchester’s almost kill them? What would/how Crowley do/react and what would the Winchester’s do?🤔

That’s My Goddamn Daughter!

Team Free Will x cambion!reader

When Castiel locates another cambion, potentially with the power to kill a knight of hell, he and the Winchesters go after her but then Crowley shows up claiming she’s his daughter.

Warnings:  MOC Dean, mentions of rape but really just misunderstandings, blood, concussions, I have no medical knowledge, swearing, reader gets knocked out a lot lol

WC: 2.2k

A/N: I kind of want to do a part 2 to this. What do you guys think?

Minors DNI

“I’m sorry what? Can you repeat that?” Castiel sighed, slightly exacerbated. He thought he explained the situation pretty well. Dean’s eyes were wide in both shock and disbelief and Sam just looked exhausted.

“Like I said before, there is another cambion in existence and she could be the answer to the Mark.” Dean swallowed the last of his now warm beer and glowered at the angel.

“And you didn’t think to tell us this before now?”

“Dean.” Sam started but the elder held up his hand to stop him. Cas sighed, mentally preparing himself for a classic Dean tirade that always seemed to come when he presented the brothers with a new lead.

“You’re hiding things from us, lying. How do we even know if this so-called cambion is the real deal? Why didn’t she show up before?” The angel’s eyes rolled, why did they have such trouble understanding?

“There was a spell concealing her from the angels’ view but for some reason, that spell is now gone. I assumed it was tied to someone in her family, possibly the parent that was a demon. But now, that demon is dead so the spell is gone.” Sam seemed to accept that answer but Dean was more skeptical.

“So what do we do if we do find this girl? Just ask her to come back with us for tea and cake? She most likely knows that daddy dearest was a demon and might want revenge and we are probably the ones that did it or we know them. So what then?” 

Sam leaned against the war room table beside his brother. “Dean’s right. Remember that kid Jesse, he had a whole town under his thumb without even thinking about it and he was just a kid. What could an adult with an obviously powerful parent do?” Dean nodded along and Cas had the distinct urge to smite them both.

“We need to take that chance. She might be our best shot at killing Cain without the First Blade.” Dean huffed, still clearly miffed at being so blatantly brushed off by the angel. 

“Alright fine but you can’t get mad at me when I say I told you so when this inevitably goes wrong.” He shrugged and Cas smirked slightly, happy to get his way.

——————

“Well that was easier than expected.” Dean sulked, sitting on the motel room bed pouting like a child. The woman had been easy to find, in fact it was too easy. She was a goddamn librarian in a small town where everyone knew her face.

No locks on her doors, no weapons in the house. She welcomed them in with open arms after Sam fed her their story of being lost and needing directions. She gave them pie and lemonade, answering every question they asked, including Dean’s flirtatious ask about a boyfriend.

Her head dipped and she avoided eye contact as she shyly replied that no, she didn’t have a boyfriend. Sam smacked Dean upside the head for that when she wasn’t looking. Cas, getting sick of the circling conversation mixed with too much human lust, had stepped forward and knocked her out with his grace.

He caught her soft body as she crumpled, ignoring the pointed looks the brothers sent him. “She would’ve come willingly.” Sam pointed out but Cas replied with a simple, “There isn’t enough time for you two to ‘convince’ her.”

Sam blushed and Dean just smirked, too proud of himself. They quickly smuggled her out to the car and started the long journey home. Now, they were taking a break for the night and Dean watched as the girl slept on, blissfully unaware of everything going on in the world.

“She really doesn’t seem demonic. She’s just-“

“Nice.” Dean finished his brother’s sentence for him, saying the word like it disgusted him. “Are you sure she’s the half-breed we want?” Again, Castiel was questioning why his destiny was intertwined with the Winchesters. Y/N shifted in her sleep, curling up on her side cutely, giving out a large sigh.

Cas stood at the foot of the bed, intensely watching the men who flanked her on both sides, like guards watching over their ward. “I can sense her power, it is far greater than any other cambion. Her blood has old magic in it, she is quite possibly descended from a natural witch.”

Sam froze, his entire body going stiff with surprise. “I’m sorry, so this girl is a product of a natural witch and a demon.” Cas shook his head, arms crossing over his chest.

“No, the magic is too deluded for the witch to be her mother or father, it is more likely that it is her grandparent.” Sam’s eyes flicked down to the girl, somehow already feeling incredibly protective of her. She was by far the kindest person he had met in a very long time, how could she have such evil in her blood? But he was wary, both because of her power and the fear of what could happen should she succumb to that power. He knew that feeling, that rush from demon blood, how addicting it could be.

Dean could feel the heat radiating from her body as she rolled closer to him. The mark was quiet around her, soothed like a feral cat getting love for the first time in its life. But how dark could she get, what was she capable of? And who in the hell was her demonic parent?

“We should keep moving. If we found her so quick, there’s no telling who else would be coming after her.” Cas nodded and fluttered away, presumably to ensure that no demons had followed them.

Dean moved away from her as quickly as he could, a curling in his gut making him feel like he should be repulsed by her but her presence also called to him. He fished a half-drunk bottle of whiskey from  his duffle bag and settled himself in the chair in the far corner of the room. “Get some shut eye, I’ll take first watch.”

Sam pulled a ratty blanket over top of her, careful to not wake her and took a seat on the other bed. “Do you think this could work?” Silence settled over the brothers.

“It’s our only shot.” And with that, Sam settled back against the thin pillows, keen to get any rest he could to escape his swirling thoughts.

——————

A rattling woke Dean from his alcohol induced slumber. With a groan, he lifted his head from the back of the chair he had accidentally fallen asleep on. His neck screamed in pain but that was nothing compared to the throbbing in his arm.

The mark burned and the rattling became louder. His green eyes fluttered open, only able to see vague shapes in the dark room. A shadow stood by the door, their hand on the knob, desperately trying to open it. “Please please please.” Her voice was filled with tears and a panic that made his heart lurch in his chest.

“Sweetheart.” The sound of his own voice made her work even faster at trying to open the door, but it was of no use. She screamed and Dean bolted forward. Moving faster than even he could comprehend, he grabbed her, wrapping a large palm over her mouth to keep her from making any more noise.

Her back hit the mattress with an exhale of air through her nose. Her eyes were wide with panic, her breathing quickening becoming erratic as his muscular body settled between her plump thighs, shoving her skirt up her legs. She tried to grab at Dean’s shoulders to shove him off but using his free hand he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.

Tears rolled down her temples, wetting the sheets below them. “I’m not going to hurt you. You need to trust me.” Her head shook furiously beneath his hold, on the edge of hysterics. 

“Dean?” Sam muttered sleepily, sitting up in the bed. “What’s going on?” His hair stuck up in all different directions as he lazily looked around the room. His eyes landed on the situation in front of him and everyone froze.

Suddenly, the room exploded. With no hesitation, Sam launched himself at his older brother and tackled him to the floor. “What the hell were you doing!” Dean thrashed violently.

“She was trying to run! I had to stop her.” 

Sam snarled. “Not by doing that.” Dean landed a good punch to his jaw, knocking Sam for a loop but his grip remained strong even as his head spun.

Seeing her chance, Y/N slipped from the bed as quietly as she could but her legs gave out as soon as she rocked forward onto her feet. She yelped, catching the boys’ attention and they watched her fall, almost in slow motion.

Her head slammed against the corner of the bed before slamming into the floor. Blood pooled under her forehead, her eyes went hazy before they shut. “Shit!” Sam scrambled off of his brother, fear coursing through his veins like a fire. He slid a hand under her head, cupping her face gently. “C’mon open those eyes for me.” 

But she didn’t respond. Thick fingers fit against the dip of her throat, and he struggled to find her pulse. When he finally did, it was thready and weak but it was there. He breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s alive, probably a bad concussion though.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean growled, sitting up against the bed frame. “Why does this shit always happen to us?” As gently as he could manage with shaking hands, Sam lifted Y/N into his arms, resting her face against his strong chest. He could now feel the way her own chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

Sam laid her on his unmade bed, keeping her on her side in case she got sick. The wound, a small gash on her right temple, had slowed its bleeding. It wouldn’t require stitches, just a couple butterfly bandages. “I don’t know, Dean.” He sighed and got to work fixing her up.

Meanwhile, Dean was stewing, thinking. She could have used her powers to save him off, to escape but she didn’t. She was just a normal girl getting involved in something that she didn’t want to do. “What are we doing Sammy? That girl doesn’t have any powers, she’s just a kid.” 

“Without the blade, we have no chance at getting rid of the Mark. She’s our best shot.” But there was no conviction in his tone. Sam was also doubting the integrity of this plan but he was desperate. Dean with the blade was far more dangerous than this girl could ever be, they needed her.

“How dare you touch my daughter!” The door burst violently, shattering under the force at which it was hit. Crowley stood, absolutely fuming in the entryway, eyes red with pure rage. Sam and Dean sprung into action, their guns drawn.

“What are you talking about Crowley?” Dean shifted so his body blocked the demon’s view of the girl on the bed. His shoulders were tense, the Mark telling him to protect her with everything he had. But apparently, Crowley wasn’t having any of it today.

With a wave of his hand, the boys went flying into the wall, their guns tossed away and ropes appearing from nothing to pin them down. “I told you I would find the blade and this is how you repay me! You kidnapped my daughter! Lust after her! And then you harm her!” His voice thundered through the room, shaking the foundations of the building with his fury. “You sniveling weasels! I kept her out of this life for a reason!”

The Winchesters struggled against his hold. Crowley loomed over the double bed, intensely staring at the woman. “She was never meant to know. I just wanted her to have a normal life.” 

Dean’s nostrils flared with anger as the demon leaned forward and cupped her round cheek with one hand while the other brushed against the bandage on her forehead. “Don’t touch her.” The hunter snarled. His arm burned as the mark screamed at him to rip apart anyone that even so much as looked in her direction.

A vein in Sam’s neck ticked in time with his pulse while he pulled at his bonds. He could feel the loosening of the ropes around his wrist. An angel blade rested on the chair Dean had been occupying, if he could get even one arm free, he could grab it. “You are the ones that hurt her! Not me!” Crowley snapped but didn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Last warning.” But he disregarded the Winchesters and instead lifted Y/N from the bed, taking extra care not to hit her any more than she already was.

Her face easily tucked into the dark material of his suit shirt as he held her close. “Stay away from my daughter.” And with that, both him and the ropes disappeared, leaving only her sweater and the bitter smell of sulphur.

The boys collapsed to the ground. Dean wasted no time as he scrambled forward in a desperate attempt to reach the now gone pair.

“Son of a bitch!”

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[imagineteamfreewill]

An Imagined Life

Title: An Imagined Life

Pairing: Author!Dean x Interior Decorator!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: Y/N and Dean have been best friends since childhood, and though they’re both adults with busy lives, they still manage to keep up their weekly traditions.

A/N: Wow! It's been SO long since I posted on here. Hey everyone! This kinda came out of nowhere, but nonetheless, it was fun to write. Thank you to everyone who supports me here, on Patreon, and on ao3. Thank you for reading, and enjoy! Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

There’s no response when you knock on Dean’s front door, and you smile to yourself as you crouch down to pull the spare key out from behind the loose siding at the base of the house. He’s never quite gotten around to finding a new place to put it, even after his dad found the hiding spot and trashed the place while the two of you were out of town, but it really doesn’t matter anyway. Very few people actually know who Dean is. You’re fairly certain most of his neighbors think that he’s a hermit, rather than a bestselling author.

Once you’ve wrangled the door open, you set the key on his entryway table and shift the plate of hot pancakes so you can carry it with both hands.

“Dean!” you call, peering up the stairs. There are no lights on in the hallway. His living room’s a mess, and you have to step over several piles of books as you cross through to get to the kitchen. “Dean, I brought pancakes!”

He still doesn’t answer and you sigh, shedding your jacket and tossing it on the island before heading back through the living room and up the stairs to his room. He’s probably still in bed. There’s no doubt that he’d been up late writing again, considering the various pages spread across the couch cushions. His laptop sits nearby, too.

The couch is his second favorite place to write—with the back porch being his first—despite the fact that in the beginning, he’d been adamant against your choice in seating. The two of you had argued about it for over an hour. He hadn’t liked the legs. You’d insisted that he’d needed it, and in the end, he’d relented. After all, he’d hired you to decorate his new house, and he trusted you to do a good job. Even though you’d played pranks on him ever since you were little, you wouldn’t dream of screwing up a client’s house, even if it was Dean.

You and Dean have been best friends since kindergarten. During your very first week of school, he’d stood up for you when another kid had tried to take your beloved coloring book during a rainy day recess. The two of you have been like velcro ever since. You’d gone to all the same schools, even for college, and you’d both moved across the country to pursue your dreams after graduation. He’d moved into a modest fixer upper on the outskirts of the city and you’d moved into an apartment nearby the studio where you’d started your career, but the commute hasn’t stopped either of you from continuing your tradition of Sunday morning breakfasts, or in this case, Sunday afternoon breakfasts.

Knocking on his bedroom door, you carefully push it open and poke your head into the room. Sure enough, Dean is sprawled out across his bed, the blankets covering one bare leg and his upper half. The only thing visible at the top of the comforter is a tuft of brown hair. Smiling to yourself, you open the door the rest of the way and cross the room to open the curtains. You slide the plate of pancakes onto the only clear spot on his dresser as you pass.

“Rise and shine!” you cheer, and Dean answers you with a singular, sleepy grunt. Chuckling, you leap onto his bed, making him bounce on the mattress. He groans again and pulls the covers closer around him from the inside. 

“Come on, Dean! I brought pancakes this week!”

Silence answers you, and just as you’re opening your mouth to try and coerce him for the third time, Dean grumbles,

“Remind me to hide the spare key.”

You grin and yank his pillow out from under his head, then lean down so you can speak directly into his ear. “You and I both know you’ll never do that.”

He groans again, and you briefly wonder how he ever managed to start a career when his vocabulary is so limited in the morning. When you tell him as much, Dean reaches his hands out from under the blankets, pulls his pillow from your grasp, and flips the blankets off his head before shoving the pillow back under him where it belongs. He turns onto his back and rests his head back on the pillow as he squints up at the ceiling, his eyes adjusting to the midday sun streaming in through the tall bedroom windows.

“Did you really have to open the curtains?” he asks as he rubs his eyes with the back of one hand. His voice is thick from sleep, making it gravelly and just a little deeper than normal. It makes you smile. You love Dean in the morning, even if he is a grump.

“Probably not,” you reply. Flopping down beside him, you stare up at the ceiling fan in silence, letting him wake up the rest of the way on his own. You’ve done your job spectacularly.

Finally, Dean sighs heavily and sits up, letting the blankets slide halfway onto the floor as he shifts his legs over the side of the bed. You turn onto your side and prop your head up with one elbow, watching him. He’d gone to bed in just his black boxers again, leaving his back exposed to you. The sunlight turns his skin golden.

He’s been out in the sun, you think. His freckles stand out more than usual, and as he stretches, your mind wanders. The two of you have never dated, which is strange. You enjoy spending time with him, and it’s not like you think he was ugly. In reality, Dean is one of the most attractive people you know. He could convince you to do anything if he smiled while he asked. If he asked you to date him, you’d say yes. Hell, if he asked you to marry him, you’d say yes.

“You just gonna stare at me or are we gonna eat?” Dean asks, and you grin, pushing away your thoughts as you quickly try to make up for your long silence.

“Eating sounds good, but I can’t say I’m opposed to staring at your back for the rest of the day. It’s a nice back,” you tease.

“Shut up.” Dean turns and grabs his pillow, tossing it at your head.

You laugh and move your hand from where it’s supporting your head, effectively blocking the hit. Dean smiles down at you, despite his initial grumpiness after being jarred awake, and you grin even wider when his expression softens.

"You have a good week?" he asks, and you nod.

"You? Looks like you got a lot of writing done."

Dean nods slightly and stands, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. You force yourself to look away.

Why am I suddenly thinking about dating Dean?

Silently, you scold yourself and sit up on the other side of the mattress. Your back is to him, which gives you a moment to compose yourself. It’s too early for crazy thoughts about going out with your best friend. That’s more of a 3:00 AM thought.

You don’t want to mess with a good thing, you remind yourself. It’s the reason you avidly avoid the topic of dating when anyone brings it up, especially at holidays. For the longest time, your mom and Mary Winchester have been conspiring to get the two of you together. Back when you were younger, you fielded their questions with ease by telling them that you only thought of Dean as a friend and that you were more focused on your career, but you can practically picture their expressions if they ever heard your private thoughts about Dean’s back. These thoughts will have to be something you take to your grave.

You clear your throat and get up, grabbing the plate and rounding the end of the bed. “Ready?” you ask.

Dean grabs a t-shirt from the laundry basket on top of his dresser, then pulls it over his head. He glances at himself in the mirror before running a hand through his hair and heading out into the hallway. You follow him down the stairs and to the kitchen, plate in hand.

He starts pulling down plates, cups, and silverware for the two of you while you stick the plate in the microwave. 

“There’s syrup in the fridge,” he tells you, pointing just behind you. “Can you get the creamer, too?”

You hum in acknowledgement and turn around to do just that, and he starts the coffee maker. Dean knows exactly how you like your coffee. The thought that he does makes you smile as you hunt through the contents of his fridge.

“So what’s the plan for today?” he asks.

Glancing over your shoulder, you grab the syrup from the door before closing it and taking a few steps to the island so you can dump the bottle of creamer there, too. You settle on one of the bar stools and watch him from the side as he makes your coffee. Last year, you’d convinced him to buy a fancier coffee maker, and though he’d been reluctant to change and get rid of the faithful machine that had helped him through his first bestseller, Dean eventually agreed that the newer model was better. Plus, it meant that he could make you some truly great breakfast drinks, not just plain coffee with creamer like he normally has.

“Besides pancakes? I have to run to IKEA and look at some decor options for a client. Do you want to come with?”

His nose crinkles enough that you can see it from your seat. “Shopping?”

You lean forward over the island, propping your chin on your hand as you give him the biggest puppy eyes you can muster. “Please, Dean?” you whine. “Please spend time with your oldest, prettiest, and most talented friend so I don’t perish of loneliness before I can settle down like a good, upstanding citizen. I need someone with me to ward off all the suitors that might harass me while I do my weekly throw pillow shopping.”

Dean snorts. “You’re insane.”

“Am I?” You drop your hand down and push yourself up on the counter, just enough that your reach is long enough to reach the cup of coffee he’s brought over for you. You pull it closer and lift it to your nose so you can breathe in the rich aroma, then take a sip. As predicted, it’s perfect. With a sigh, you plop back onto the stool.

“Yes, you are,” he laughs.

The microwave beeps and Dean abandons his mug to get the pancakes, and you busy yourself by arranging your plate and silverware in front of you. You don’t have to ask Dean to heap your portion onto your plate. He does it automatically, piling pancakes in front of you until you give him a satisfied nod. As he plates his own food, you start dishing up your toppings.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get out of the house a little today,” Dean says after the two of you have had a chance to tuck into your food. 

You look up at him, eyebrows raised in surprise and a loaded fork held halfway to your mouth. “Really? You actually want to go shopping with me?”

He shrugs and takes another bite.

“Okay, then I’m going to finish these pancakes so we can get going before you change your mind,” you tell him, and you start to shovel your food into your mouth more earnestly. He smiles a little before doing the same.

After you and Dean clean up from your late breakfast, you pile into the Impala. He has to stop for gas, so you spend that time searching through your inspiration photos and the screenshots of items you’d looked at on the website. It’s nice to not have to drive, and it gives you a better chance to focus your thoughts on what the most important items will be. As much as he loathes shopping, Dean likes to wander, which means you can’t get distracted from what you really need for the houses, rather than what you’ve walked past four times.

“All good?” you ask, glancing up from your phone when he climbs back into the driver’s seat. Dean hums in agreement and turns the key in the ignition again, then cranks the music as he pulls out of the gas station. You laugh a little when he punches the accelerator once you’re on an open stretch of highway, and you lock your phone, leaning back in your seat.

It’s a nice enough day that you can have the windows down. The wind in your face reminds you of the long road trips you’d taken together in college, and the drive you’d made to move from college to your current home. Those are some of your happiest adult memories with Dean. Some of the moments you replay over and over again in your head each night are from those trips. 

“So what exactly are we getting here?” Dean asks as he turns into the massive store lot. “Throw pillows? Vases with fake grass? Giant, framed, sepia-toned pictures of cows?”

You roll your eyes at the design cliches he always teases you about. “A couch and a coffee table,” you shoot back. “Although, you seem to know a lot about those cow pictures. Have you been researching one for your own house?”

He sends you a scathing look, but it’s quickly replaced by a small smile when you laugh at his reaction.

Climbing out of the car, you pull out your phone again. “I haven’t picked out a coffee table, but the couch…” You scroll through the pictures until you find the one you want, then hold it out for him to see. “Here, this is what I’m looking for. I just hope they have it here—they don’t ship this one and I don’t want to drive four hours to the next IKEA.”

Dean glances over at the Impala, and his smile is gone. “That’s not going to fit, Y/N. If I’d known you were getting furniture—”

“I’m just reserving it.” You shake your head. “I’ll have one of the interns pick it up tomorrow morning.”

He nods back and his shoulders relax slightly as you head into the store. Thankfully, it’s less crowded than you’d anticipated, which lets you keep a lazy pace as you walk. You’re not quite wandering, but you’re not worried about people trying to get past whenever you and Dean stop to look at one of the room displays.

“This one’s nice,” Dean says. He nods at a metal coffee table in one of the fake living rooms. 

You crinkle your nose, feeling a little bad that you can’t agree. “It’s okay. Not quite what I’m looking for, though. It’s not really the vibe of the family.”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you as you hum and pick a pillow to inspect the design closer. “What’s the vibe?”

You set the pillow back in the giant metal basket and think about it for a second. “They’re more natural, like a… spa commercial. Lots of light natural woods, white linens, birdsong in the background, that kinda thing.” You gesture vaguely with one hand.

“Ah, so the daughter’s name is Serenity and the mother does weekly yoga with the other women from the neighborhood,” Dean replies.

“Exactly.”

“Dad’s probably a workaholic, and he goes along with whatever the mom wants because he knows it’ll keep her off his back. He doesn’t mind all the organic stuff, but he’s not above getting McDonald’s for lunch. He pays with cash, though, because his wife keeps careful track of their money,” Dean continues.

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re really fleshing this one out, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a little satisfied smile, then pushes the cart forward to the next display room.

“Okay, so what about this one?” you ask. You wave your hand toward the half-dining room, half-living room display that’s been set up. It’s clearly meant to mimic a small apartment, because almost everything doubles as storage. The decor reminds you of your own apartment when you’d first moved out of college. You’d been broke after the cross-country move, and most of your things had been leftover from your dorm. You didn’t get “real” furniture until almost two years later. Dean had offered to help pay for the basics, but you’d turned him down. He’d already had his hands full with fixer-upper he’d bought with the advance from his first book.

Dean considers the faux apartment, letting his eyes sweep over each item with care before he finally answers, “They just moved cross-country. He’s planning on proposing to her, but he doesn’t have a ring yet because they spent all their money on the new apartment. It’s barely big enough for them, let alone the stuff they have from college and from their parents’ basements, but she loves it anyway. She likes to decorate with things she finds at thrift stores and the flea market, and he’s secretly been saving every penny he can to buy her the ring he thinks she deserves. If everything goes his way, he’s hoping to ask her next summer, and he’s going to string up the living room with lights because she always mentions how much she misses the fields of fireflies from where they grew up together.”

You smile to yourself, imagining the couple as Dean weaves his story around you. The aisles in this area of the store are empty, and his voice draws you into the picture he’s creating on a whim. It’s warm and homey, and it reminds you a little of your own life, just enough that you can imagine it clearly.

“I like that,” you finally say, after several moments have gone by. “What about that one?” You point a little farther down the aisle.

“The kitchen?” Dean asks. You nod in response. “Well, our couple’s gotten older, but he still hasn’t proposed. They still live together, and they’ve got a better place now that they both have better jobs, but every time he sees a ring or thinks it’s the right time to pop the question, he starts second-guessing himself. So, since they have a backyard now, he gets her a dog, instead.”

“What kind of dog?”

He looks over at you. “What kind of dog do you want it to be?”

You nudge him with your elbow, smiling. “Come on, Dean. You know me. I’m always gonna answer that they need a golden retriever. Every cheesy romance novel and movie has a golden retriever.”

He laughs a little and looks back at the empty kitchen. “A golden retriever it is, then. He’s a rescue, so he’s already three, but she spends every extra minute she has training him. She’s worked hard to make their house a home, you know, so she has to make sure to keep his muddy paws off the couch.”

“Of course,” you agree.

Dean pushes the cart forward again, and the two of you walk a little further, passing by countless closets, more living rooms, a plant display, and another kitchen. Finally, you reach a children’s bedroom, and you pause just for a moment. It’s long enough that Dean notices, however, so he stops and looks over at you.

“Did you find something you like?” he asks. “I didn’t see that couch you wanted earlier when we passed through the sofa section.”

Something about the first story Dean had come up with today stuck with you, and as you peer at the display, you can’t help but picture yourself crouching down beside the ladybug-themed bed. You imagine yourself brushing hair back off a child’s forehead, and you chuckle at the idea of a golden retriever who would hop up by the kid’s feet though it’s too big for the bed.

“What about this?” you ask, quietly, almost so quiet that the music covers it up.

Dean’s silence for a second. “We have a kid now, and he’s everything we’ve ever dreamed.”

You don’t fail to notice that Dean’s changed his story—it’s no longer “them” and “the couple”. It’s we. He keeps his eyes focused on the bed as he talks, but you look over at him. His eyes are a little glossy, and his expression is far away as he continues,

“We still live in the same house, and I’ve got a ring stashed away in a box of rough edits. You haven’t found it yet, but every time I go out, I’m worried that you’ll try to tidy up my office and find it.”

You swallow thickly and stare at him, wide-eyed. Careful not to disturb him too much, you move your hand a little. Your fingers bump against his, and Dean lets you maneuver his hand so it’s wrapped around yours, but he still doesn’t look away from the display bedroom. People are walking past you. Their voices and the music playing overhead feel far away, like they’re in a totally different universe. You’re so focused on Dean that you can’t see, feel, or hear anything outside of your little bubble.

“You’ve totally taken over everything,” Dean continues, chuckling. His lips turn up in a smile. He speaks without hesitation, and with enough passion in every word that you know he means everything he says. This isn’t just pretending anymore.

“The house is amazing, and you’ve gotten into gardening. Everything you touch seems to thrive, including me. I’ve got two more books on the bestsellers list, and it’s enough money that I don’t have to worry about how we’re going to make it. I know that we’ll be okay, no matter what happens. Your business is doing great, too. You stepped back since Robert was born, but you’ve got a partner and enough employees and interns that you can relax.

“You’re up here, right now,” he says. He lifts your joined hands to point towards the bed. “Tucking Robert in.”

“I am?” you prompt.

He nods. “When you’re back downstairs, I’m going to propose.”

“How are you going to ask me?” you murmur, almost afraid to ask.

Dean looks away from the display. His eyes meet yours, and you inhale sharply when he reaches behind himself to push the cart further away. He sinks to one knee and takes your other hand as you gape down at him.

“Dean…”

“I have loved you since the moment I saw you, Y/N,” he says.

You can sense people watching you, and to your left you can see someone holding up their phone to take a picture or to record you, but you can’t tear your eyes away from him. Tears are welling up, making your vision blurry, and you blink them away. They roll down your cheeks. In any other circumstance, you’d be embarrassed to cry in public, but it’s Dean. He chases all your fears away, and his hands in yours pull you into a moment you never thought you’d see.

“I have thought about proposing to you since we moved here,” Dean continues. “I think about it every day. Every morning, I wake up, Y/N, and I wonder why I haven’t asked you yet. Sometimes it feels like if I go another minute without being engaged to you, I’ll die. I don’t even have a ring; I haven’t been able to find the perfect one, but I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of our lives together. I want to reach our goals and make new dreams together. I know this is sudden, and it’s a lot, and you can say no—I know that you weren’t expecting this—but I can’t let another day go by without asking.”

You’re at a loss for words. He’s right— you weren’t expecting this. You and Dean aren’t even dating, but the idea of spending your life with him doesn’t feel wrong or far-fetched. It feels perfect. You may be blindsided, but you’re not afraid of admitting when something is right.

Dean rubs his thumb over the side of your hand, and it draws you back down to him. “So what do you say, sweetheart? Will you marry me?”

After a second, you find yourself nodding. You throw yourself down into Dean’s arms. “Yes,” you say into his ear. You sniffle and press your face into his shoulder, and though your voice is muffled by his shirt, you know he’ll understand. “Yes, Dean. I love you so much.”

There’s scattered applause from all around you. Slowly, you sniffle and pull away, wiping your eyes with a smile and a laugh. Dean helps you stand again, and you brush the dust off your knees as shoppers crowd in to congratulate you. You nod along and thank them, a little embarrassed at all the attention, but soon you’re following Dean out of the store. An employee stops you at the door to give you a gift card from management, which you pocket in a daze. 

Neither one of you has bought anything, and you’ve totally forgotten to reserve the couch and coffee table you’d come for, but Dean leads you out to the Impala anyway. Then, once you’re away from prying eyes and the warmth of the sun is on your skin, he kisses you. His hands find your hips as he presses you back against the passenger side door, and you wrap your arms around his neck. Dean’s kiss is sweet and slow, and you know that it’s going to be something you remember for the rest of your life.

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[stardust-goddess]

Effort

Dean Winchester x Plus Size! Reader

Summary: Reader feels like she needs to put in extra effort to look and feel beautiful. Dean doesn’t think so.

A/N: hi everyone! I’m new to tumblr and writing but wanted to give this a shot. I feel like I might have made Dean out of character, but I think of this almost every morning when I get ready and just loved the idea. This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, so let me know what you think and Enjoy!💕

The room was full of sunlight when you opened your eyes. Squinting at the brightness you took in the familiar surroundings of the motel room as you became more alert.

You and the boys were in Montana. Sam had found news articles of multiple murders from the past few months, all in close proximity to each other. With all the evidence leaning towards a possible werewolf, you and the boys packed up Baby and made your way to the latest murder scene to investigate. After a few days the hunt was successful and you all went back to the motel to get some sleep before heading back to the bunker.

Looking across from where you were, you noticed Sam’s bed was empty with a note on the pillow. ‘Probably out for his morning run’ you thought. Making a mental note to confirm that as soon as you got up. Turning slightly, you found Dean. He was still asleep, arms and body completely wrapped around you encasing you in warmth. You snuggled a little deeper in his embrace giving yourself a few extra minutes before finally getting up to start getting ready.

Slowly sitting up from the bed so Dean wouldn’t be disturbed, you untangled yourself from his arms. After checking Sam’s note and confirming he was in fact on a run and promised to bring back breakfast, you made your way to the bathroom. Starting to wash up for the day you looked over yourself in the mirror.

Looking at your bare face you sighed, today was definitely another makeup day. You’re skin looked a little blotchier then usual, with dark circles under your eyes, and a dull complexion. Eyes traveling a little further down you took in the rest of your body. Big arms, stomach, and thighs bounced back at you.

You had always felt insecure about your appearance. Being the size you were, you felt like whenever you were out in public people would stare. That they were judging you, and thinking you were big and sloppy looking when you really weren’t. This led you to putting extra effort into your appearance. Makeup always on, hair nicely styled, and a well put together outfit for the day. Being a hunter, this wasn’t something that you could pull off everyday, but you tried your best. On the days that you couldn’t, you always felt a little anxious, but Dean always made you feel better.

Dean made you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. Underneath his tough hunter persona, he was so gentle and loving. Always complimenting you, and taking care of you. While he helped your confidence little by little, you still couldn’t stop those negative thoughts racing through your mind from time to time. Those thoughts where you wished you looked like the women you saw on TV and magazines. Women who were skinny and effortlessly beautiful. Women who could throw on leggings and a t-shirt with little to no makeup, and looked like they stepped off the runway.

Shaking those thoughts from your head. You finished washing up. Grabbing your hand held mirror and makeup bag to bring back to the bed. You always like doing your makeup sitting on your bed. It was comfortable and you had plenty of space to spread your products around. Walking out of the bathroom you noticed Sam was still out. You also noticed that Dean was now awake, sitting against the headboard, and scrolling through his phone. Seeing you in his peripheral vision, Dean looked up and gave you a breathtaking smile. God he was so gorgeous.

“Good Morning Baby.” Dean said lovingly reaching his arm out for you.

“Morning Handsome.” giving him a smile of your own, you grabbed his outstretched hand and let him lead you back to the bed. Settling you in between his legs, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, making his way down to the part of your shoulder that was peeking out of your oversized shirt. His arms wrapped around you to pull you a little closer.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Good, I always sleep the best when you’re with me, you?” you replied grabbing your makeup bag to get what you needed.

“Great, because my gorgeous girl was next to me.”

Dean dropped more kisses to your shoulder making you giggle, but inside you felt a little pang of sadness. You just woke up there’s no way you looked gorgeous right now.

you fell into a comfortable silence after that, enjoying each other’s presence while you started your makeup. Putting concealer first then foundation you started to bounce your beauty blender across your face, making sure everything got covered evenly. Once that was done you started coating your lashes in mascara. Dean watched you from your little mirror as you worked. Rubbing little circles into your hips with his thumbs, Dean broke the silence.

“Baby, you know we’re going to be in the car most of the day right? You don’t have to get all dolled up if you don’t want to.”

Stopping mid mascara swipe you looked down in your lap for a second before continuing

“I know, but I have too. If I want to look good I have to put the extra effort in.”

Dean’s brows scrunched together in confusion.

“Extra effort? What do you mean? You always look beautiful.”

Finishing your mascara you close the tube and look back down in your lap.

“I have to put more work in to look pretty. If I don’t people will see me and think I’m lazy and sloppy. I’m already big I don’t need to add more fuel to the fire”

Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew you had insecurities and did his best to remind you that you were amazing and let your confidence shine through. Despite this you did still have some bad days, but this is first time you expressed those negative thoughts so bluntly. He couldn’t let those thoughts continue a second longer. Angling your body more towards him, Dean tucked some loose hair behind your ear before tilting your chin up.

“Listen to me baby, strangers opinions on the street don’t matter. They don’t have the honor of knowing how amazing you are. You’re so selfless and hard working. You constantly put others before yourself, saving people and helping me and Sammy make the world a little better. You’re not lazy and definitely not sloppy you’re stunning.”

Pulling you a little closer Dean continues

“Makeup, or no makeup, dressed up or dressed down you always look so pretty and so amazing. I get lost in those gorgeous eyes and this gorgeous body. I love the way you feel in my hands and pressed against me. You’re absolutely beautiful inside and out.”

You close your eyes, a little overwhelmed by his sweet words. He was right, others opinions didn’t matter. Finally finding your voice you speak up

“I just can’t help it sometimes. You could have any gorgeous woman on your arm, but you picked me. I feel like I have to prove to the world that I deserve you.”

Closing the rest of the distance between you, Dean presses a searing kiss to your lips. A kiss so full of love and want you feel warmth spread through your body. Breaking the kiss Dean cups your cheek, thumb running across your bottom lip.

“You have nothing to prove. I already have a gorgeous woman and I’m not letting her go anywhere.”

Blushing you let a smile work it’s way across your lips.

“There’s that smile I love, brightens my whole day.”

Moving you back into your original position, Dean slips his hand under your shirt. Rubbing small circles on your back while the other hand grabs your lipstick handing it to you.

“You already look beautiful baby but might as well finish what you started.”

Grabbing the tube you also grab your discarded mirror to finish up. Feeling lighter after talking with Dean. You were beautiful, you were confident, and with Dean by your side you could take on the world.

“I love you Dean, thank you.”

“I love you too baby, always.”

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Natural Woman

Summary: Dean catches Y/N dancing and singing in their bedroom, and loves the show.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut and fluff - smuff. Fingering, slight edging, unprotected P in V sex, brief oral mentioned (m receiving), Tiny smidge of angst if you squint. Lots of fluff, lip-syncing and singing.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 1,401

A/N: The other day I was listening to "Natural Woman" by Aretha Franklin, and it made me imagine this little scenario, and the idea seemed to fit with Dean and Y/N from:

An Unreliable Reflection

and

Show and Tell

So, I wrote it as a little conclusion for them. (For now, anyway.) You don't have to have read the other two parts, but it will make this part more enjoyable and make the fluff more meaningful, so I encourage you to read them first.

The beautiful dividers below and at the bottom were created by @talesmaniac89.

Main Masterlist || Tag Lists

Dean closed the thick, three hundred year old book, and slumped back in the library chair. He'd definitely read all he wanted to read for right now about the long history of pure blood werewolves in America. 

He rubbed his hand across his eyes and then over his scruffy cheeks, his rough fingers making a scratchy sound against his day's growth of whiskers. He looked around and wondered where Y/N had gotten to. She'd tired of their study session before he had (an incredibly rare occurrence) and had left an hour ago. She’d leaned over the back of his chair to wrap her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek as she left. 

"I'm gonna go do some laundry cause if I don't we'll both be going commando by tomorrow." She said as she stood up straight.

Dean had growled slightly and pulled her back down to kiss her more thoroughly and contemplate the fun torture he'd go through tomorrow if he knew the only thing beneath Y/N’s skirt was soft skin, and tantalizing, wet, heat. 

But Y/N had pulled away from him, laughing, and rushed away before he could deter her from her task any longer.

Now, Dean pushed out of the chair and set out to find her and complete his mission to completely derail her chores. 

She was no longer in the laundry room, so he set out for their bedroom. Y/N had officially moved into his bedroom a few months before, but in reality, she hadn't slept in her old room in over a year, since the night they finally admitted to each other how they felt, and Dean was able to make her understand just how hot she truly was, how desperately he wanted her, and how deeply he loved her. 

The last fourteen months he’d been with Y/N, Dean had felt happier and more satisfied with his life than he had in decades. Granted there were whole portions of his brain dedicated to the fear of losing her and he'd spent the equivalent of months of time worrying that he was going to get her hurt somehow, or that someone or something was going to rip her away from him.

But he fought against all of it. He loved Y/N too much to be a coward. So, he forced himself to believe they had all of forever ahead of them and tried to just allow himself to revel in her love. 

As he neared their bedroom door he could hear music pouring out. After listening for a moment, he recognized Aretha Franklin's full, slightly raspy vocals. The Queen of Soul was singing the virtues of feeling like a Natural Woman. With a wide smile, Dean pushed open the bedroom door and felt his heart lift and his body harden at the sight that greeted him.

Their bed was covered in half-folded laundry, and standing in the middle of the room was Y/N, lip-syncing into a hairbrush, clad only in a pair of pink-striped, boy cut panties and a white tank top. She was turned slightly away from him, so she didn’t see him immediately, but he could still make out every curve of her body, still see that her full breasts were obviously unencumbered by a bra, the dark outline of her nipple visible through the thin material. 

Every inch of her was a mouth-watering temptation as she mouthed the lyrics.

I didn't know just what was wrong with me

Till your kiss helped me name it

Now I'm no longer doubtful

Of what I'm livin' for

And if I make you happy

I don't need to do more

As the verse ended, something alerted her to his presence, and she gave a small start, her hands flying to her chest for a moment, before the chorus hit, and she tossed her brush aside and, pointing at Dean, sang to him in full voice while her hips swayed mesmerizingly.

'Cause you make me feel

You make me feel

You make me feel

Like a natural woman

Dean's grin was wide and happy as he walked towards Y/N and pulled her into his arms to sway with her as Aretha's voice smoothed out into the slightly slower bridge. Y/N continued to sing the lyrics to him, her eyes shining up at him with the truth of the words.

Oh baby, what ya done to me

Made me feel so good inside

And I just wanna be close to you

You make me feel so alive

As Y/N sang to him, Dean slipped his hands down over her ass and pushed her tightly against the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans, making her gasp in the middle of a lyric. Which in turn, made Dean grin wickedly.

As the final choruses of the song played, Dean walked Y/N backwards to the bed, and then, with his hands on the backs of her thighs, he pulled her legs out from under her and tumbled her back onto the bed, making a mess out of the pile of clean laundry.

Y/N ended her singing with a squeal and a full-throated laugh. "You idiot!" She chastised breathlessly as Dean immediately moved his mouth to her breast, wetting her nipple through the thin cotton and feeling it pucker in his mouth. 

"I'm gonna have to refold everything." She ended her complaint on a soft moan as Dean eased his hand under the waistband of her panties and dipped a finger into her folds to press perfectly against the button hidden there.

Dean ignored her concern and raised himself back up to her lips, kissing her deeply, sucking away her oxygen as he moved his thumb to take over the teasing circles against her clit, so he could push two fingers inside her slowly. The way her body responded, clenching around him and soaking his hand as he pumped in and out of her, had him moaning along with her.

Her flushed face and the little whimpers that were escaping her lips as he pressed on the soft, spongy spot inside her, drove him mad, and his body was aching to slam into hers and find his release.

But he was enjoying her pleasure too much, so he continued to tease her, repeatedly bringing her to the brink and then easing off. He watched her writhing beneath his hand, head pressed into the mattress, hands flailing slightly, and knocking clothes onto the floor, as she tried to grab onto something and tether herself to reality. 

But Dean wanted her to lose that grip on the earth, and fall into the abyss. So finally, he pushed against her sweet spot over and over, sending her tumbling over the edge at last. As he watched her face spasm with electric pleasure, he couldn't stop himself from bucking against her hip.

And suddenly the need to bury himself to the hilt inside her was too overpowering and he ripped her panties off and wrenched his jeans and underwear down his hips.

He slammed into her as the last waves of her orgasm were rippling through her, hitting her g-spot with the head of his cock and pulling a scream from her lungs as she fell again, clenching like a vice around his cock and causing him to spill into her, hot and thick, after barely a half dozen thrusts. 

Dean fell on top of her, loving the feel of her soft, supple body giving way beneath him. 

When he could breathe again, he finally found the energy to roll off of her, but she just rolled with him, so that she ended up sitting astride him, their bodies still joined. His soft cock hardened slightly inside her as she rolled her hips against him. 

Y/N dug her rounded fingernails into the muscles of his chest and made him harden further, and buck up into her. 

He groaned desperately and bit into his bottom lip as his heart hammered against his ribs. "Jesus woman," he warned, gripping her hips tightly, "you tryna kill me?"

As Dean shouted out his pleasure, Y/N pulled off of him with a pop and licked her lips.

Y/N's smile was wicked and calculating as she climbed off him so she could slide down his body and take his cock into her mouth.

"Naturally."

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

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[hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog]

Just Breathe- Series

Good evening everyone! here is the second chapter in the Just Breathe Series. This series was inspired/prompted by the ask that was submitted by @deans-spinster-witch to read the first chapter click here for the original post. @deans-spinster-witch was gracious enough to lend her skills in ruffing out a few of the mishaps in chapter one, and I will post that updated version at some point and link it, and did the same for this second chapter. 

Here is the original ask for a refresher.

Ask from @deans-spinster-witch:

Tell me about Dean falling in love with a girl who has long covid - maybe they met when he saved her from a monster and they became friends, she occasionally helps him with research or patches him up if he gets hurt.  He doesn’t hear from her for a while, and when he goes to check on her, he finds out she’s in the hospital with Covid - a monster he can’t save her from.  He realizes he loves her, but may lose her.  After she gets out he keeps coming to check on her because he knows she tires easily/has trouble breathing at times.

This second chapter is going to start with a bit of time jump, but don’t worry we got flashback a plenty to fill in the gaps. Multi POV between the main character, Y/N, and Dean Winchester, mentions of Sam Winchester. This is angst, sweet/fluffy, swearing, implied sexy times. Oh and word count is at 7,250-ish, sorry but not sorry. 

Sadly the Winchesters are not mine, but the story is so please don’t steal and post as your own. But likes, reblog, and comments are always welcome. As always any mistakes like grammar, spelling, function is also all mine, so be kind when pointing it out, I do my best. 

I would like to know if you like this chapter would you want to see a third chapter? or maybe a prequel to answer any questions you might have regarding Y/N and Dean? Let me know. 

Thank you again for reading, and you would like to send me a prompted or story idea, send it my way. 

Happy Reading

Time Jump to 4 months ahead. 

Y/N POV

Shit, Shit, Shit! Where the hell are my keys! You yell out in frustration as you move frantically around your house, looking for the one thing that you need to get to your appointment on time. Tossing the pillows from the couch, goddamn it! You were never like this, ever since COVID, your short term memory has been foggy to put it nicely. Resorting to keeping both a paper list and digital one on your phone, is your new normal. Walking into a room to do something, and instantly forgetting what you came for. Case in point, not remembering where you put your goddamn keys! 

You hate running late, you pride yourself on always being early to things, and this appointment was an important one. Walking into the kitchen, you start to look in the not so obvious places. Opening up the fridge, nope not in there. Pull open the freezer next, yep there they are, right next to the pint of mint chip ice cream that you just had to have yesterday at like 11 pm. Only to then be disappointed that you now can’t stand the taste of your once favorite ice cream, fuck you COVID! 

Ugh, seriously, you are going to be the death of me, you think. Grabbing your keys, you push the freezer door closed, and head off to the hospital for your fourth month CT scan. Locking the door behind you, the crisp air of fall hits you. God how you don’t want winter to come any sooner then it has too. Winters in Michigan can be brutal, especially on the coast line. Pulling your light jacket close to you, you quicken your pace and get into your jeep to start up the car quickly, and pull out of the driveway. Not noticing the very familiar black impala parked about three houses down. 

****

You make it with time to spare, as you wait in the waiting room after checking in, you try your best to calm yourself. Fiddling with your phone, you find that scrolling through Instagram is getting you nowhere and your emails have been radio silent for months now. Exhausted, you put your phone away, you look around the room. For mid morning it's not too busy, the daytime talkshow mixes in with the white noise of the hospital. It's so beige, beige carpet, walls, even the uncomfortable furniture is beige. It makes sense, given it's a hospital; money should be spent on actual patient care, not on the latest interior furnishings., But still, at least get some interesting artwork. Looking to the piece across from you: an abstract painting of paint strokes in grays, blues, and you guessed  it, beige.

“Ms. Moore?” The nurse's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up to see her standing at the entryway in blue scrubs, dark brown hair pulled back, with a kind smile. 

“Yep” you reply to her, but you're sure she would have guessed that was you, as your head snapped at attention when your name was called. “Hi”, giving her a smile as you walk towards her.

“Hi,” she replies, “can you tell me your last name and date of birth?” She starts walking down the hallway, looking at your chart, the path was second nature for her. You rattle off your last name and birthday for her, then she stops just off from an open doorway, “right in here.” Letting you walk in first.

She takes a seat at a desk, swiping her badge to start keying in some information. “So, here for your four month CT scan.” she states, but it also feels like a question.

“Umm, yeah, it's my second one.” You reply, still getting used to coming to the doctor more than twice a year. You only ever went if you were feeling really sick. 

“Looks like the first one was clean, but we like to do a few in close succession when someone has had a severe case of covid.” she explains, her eyes are kind, and reassuring, “I am sure this one will be just as good, and then hopefully the doctor will schedule them farther apart.”

She must see the worry on your face. Not sure how to respond, you just nod your head. She takes your vitals, asks if anything else has changed since your last visit, and if there were any other concerns you wanted to discuss today. “No, I don’t think so.” 

Typing a few more things in the computer, and then swapping her badge again to lock the computer. “I am surprised your brother is not here with you today.” 

“What?” You're taken aback by this, brother, does she mean Dean? How would she know about him? Was it in your chart? You don’t remember adding him as your emergency contact.

She can tell you are put off by this. “Sorry, I should have re-introduced myself. I was your nurse when you were in here with covid.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I should have…”

“No, it's fine. Honestly, I wouldn’t expect you to remember me.”

Thinking back to that time, she does seem familiar now, “well it's nice to see you again…” struggling to remember her name quickly, but not inconspicuously looking at her badge, “Bridget.” This gets a laugh out of her, and you do the same. “I was happy to see your name on the schedule today, and I thought you were the one with the very cute, and very attentive brother. That's why I am surprised he is not here.”

Ah yes, Dean, not being here. That is a long, long story that you're sure she does not want, nor has the time to hear right now. You give her a forceful smile, “Yeah, Dean, he has something today, so just me.”

Her smart watch goes off, and she looks at the time, “well we should get you down to CT. After your scan, we will come back here and the doctor will be with you to go over the results.” She gets up, and you follow. 

****

The wait feels like forever, and in the small exam room with nothing to look at but an exam table -and beige walls - you were lost in your head. Worrying about what if they found something, what if you developed lesions, or anything that could compromise your health. God, how you wish Dean was here, or even Sam. Someone to hold your hand and distract you from the impending doom and dark thoughts that were creeping in. Dean would distract you with lame jokes, or stories about how Sammy was terrified of doctors. He would get you to smile anyway he could, probably go so far and raid the supplies of tongue depressors and cotton balls, saying something like “they don’t need all of them, do they?”

“Ms. Moore, how are we today?” The doctor's voice breaks up your fleeting thoughts of Dean, as if he was right there, but as soon as the man in the white coat opens the door and steps through, Dean disappears. 

“Umm, good, at least I hope so.” You reply, wanting to keep the pleasantries short, let get to the point so you can get out of here. 

He takes a look over the file, and then pulls up the scans on the computer. He seems to be taking forever, did he not look at them beforehand! Come on man just tell me already! “Everything looks good, I am not seeing any growth of lesions or scar tissue from the tube.”

Relife floods your body, letting out a sight, “oh that great news, so I am done with coming in?” you hope so, wanting to never see this place again, at least for a while. 

He turns to face you, his dark brown eyes are kind, but you can tell right away he is not going to give you the answer you want. “Not yet, but we can push them to every six months.”

Okay, twice a year, I guess that is a compromise you can take, “okay, so I will see you in the spring.” Starting to get up to leave, but he stops you.

“In two months, we can start doing six month visits. I want to see you again one more time in two months. If that scan is clean then we push them to six month visits.” He explains. 

You sit back down in defeat, you're going to be back here in two months, really! You know you can’t take your frustration out on him, he is just looking out for your health and doesn’t want to miss anything. “Okay.” Slightly defeated, wanting nothing more than to curl up on the couch, and sleep for the next two months away. 

Giving your hands a reassuring pat, “two months will fly by I promise. Is there anything else you want to discuss today? Still having some memory issues?”

You know that you should be honest with him, that you think you have gotten worse since Dean left, but honestly are you sure? He did so much for you in that short time, maybe, you were like this before, and he just didn’t point it out. Plus you just wanted to go home, what really could he do anyways? “Nothing new on that. I think I just need to get back to my normal routine and I will be fine.” 

Getting up from his chair, “Sounds good. I will send Bridget back in, she will get you set up for your next appointment. We will see you in two months. Have a good day.” shutting the door behind him. You're back alone in that quiet room.

Alone, you're alone, once again. You can feel the panic start to creep in. Alone, and even though the scan was good, he still wants you to come back. Alone, no one to hold your hand, no one to make stupid jokes. You did this to yourself, you know that, he would have stayed, you pushed him…

“Alright, Doctor says two months humm.” Bridget's voice breaks through. It's light and airy. Trying to make the situation as pleasant as possible. As soon as she sits down, she can tell you're not alright, “Hey, what's wrong?” She asks, setting down the chart, and focusing on you.

Feeling a tear run down your cheek, fuck why are you crying.  “Umm…it's nothing….yeah two months…” You take a ragged breath, pushing all your emotions down, down, down, to the deepest part of your soul where they should always live. You can cry when you get home. Suck it up for two more minutes!

“Hey, talk to me, what’s going on.” She is not letting you wash this away, she grabs the tissue box, and holds it out for you to pull a couple out of the box. “Your scan was clean, the doctor is just being cautious that's all.” 

“I know it's just…I really wish he was here….”

“Dean,” she replies, filling in the blanks. You nod at this, and wipe your eyes and face. “I am sure if you talk to him, he will come to the next appointment.”

Oh if she only knew, but you couldn’t lay this all out on a complete stranger. Again she just wants to do her job, and move on to the next patient, you're taking up too much of her time. “I am sure you're right.” Taking a few ragged breaths. 

She gives you a reassuring smile, and turns to the computer to book your appointment, reminding you that you can always change it to accommodate if Dean can’t make it this time. “I could tell he really cares for you. Even in the short time I saw him, he wouldn’t leave your side for anything. Practically had to kick him out every night when visiting hours were over.” Trying to make the situation light, and hopefully get a smile back on your face. 

Giving her a short laugh, “yeah that sounds like Dean.” You can see it, him waiting until the last possible second. A security guard to escort him out.

Both of you get up, and she walks you to the door, and down the hall towards the exit. Seeing you coming back around, she decides to let you in on a little secret. Stopping you before opening up the door to the waiting room she leans in slightly. “Just between you and me, I knew he wasn’t your brother.”

“What….I mean…no he is….” You stammer out, hoping that she wasn’t going to bust you for…something, you're not sure? But still not wanting to get into trouble.

“Don’t worry dear, it's fine.” She quickly replies, trying to calm your fears. 

You let out a sigh of relief, “How did you know?”

“Two things. One he just pulled on my heartstrings so much that I figured what would be the harm in him sticking around, even if he wasn’t related. Plus, if I was ever lucky enough to have a guy look at me the way he did to you, I would want him to be by my side every second.”

Her smile is contagious, and although you're still doubting that what you feel for Dean would ever be reciprocated, now is not the time to hash it out with her. “What was the second?”

“I may have heard him one night on the phone with someone, saying he couldn’t lose you, that he needed to tell you that he was in love with you.'' She says matter of factly, pushing the door open and waiting for you to walk through. 

*******

Dean POV

He watches as she pulls into the driveway and shuts off the car. He had followed her from a safe distance from the hospital to the store, and then back to her house. She didn’t notice once, even though he had taught her in the past how to spot a tail. Did she get bad news? Maybe it's the COVID that is affecting her hunter instincts? Fuck, if thats the case, what else could she be missing? Is it stupid and desperate of him to be following her, and watching from a distance? Maybe, but also not, if she is not noticing simple things like him following her. What if  Lucifer, or one of his henchmen, came after her? Anxiety just thinking of irrational attacks on you causes his chest to tighten as he pulls back into the parking spot a few houses down.

He should be a man and go up to you, talk to you, and see you face to face. He missed you, your smile, your laugh - fuck, everything about you. He knows he screwed up. As soon as he did what he did, he wished he could have taken it back, but the damage was done. He kept saying it was for the best, that you would forgive him, and move on. But you can’t forgive him unless he stops being a little stalker and owns up to what he did.

Flashback to the night of the big blowup. Dean POV

Standing there, staring down the closed door, you wish right now you had superpowers to see through the door and see if she’s alright. Hell, you don’t need to be a superhero to know she’s not. You're just wondering what brought this on. “Y/N, come on, talk to me” you plead, softly knocking on the door. “I am sorry…I don’t mean to…” your rambling stops when you hear soft sobs from the otherside of the door. 

“Just go away Dean!” She yells between sobs. “I can’t breathe with you here… I can’t…”

You grab the door knob, fear and pressure weighing down on you to get to her, to hold her.  Most importantly, to make her understand that your overbearing protectiveness is coming from a place of needing to be in control, that you care for her, and need to protect her “Y/N, please just open the door, let's talk? I promise I will ease up, I can do better.”

You can hear her give a small laugh at that, you're about to question her on this when your phone goes off. Screw it, let it go to voicemail, she is more important than anything else. “I am not giving up on you, on us. You have to come out eventually.” 

Your phone stops ringing for a second and then starts back up again. What the Hell? “You should answer that, Dean.” She states without hesitation, but  with an undertone of sadness. 

Letting out a sigh, you turn around. “Fine if you want to talk via phone, fine.” Walking away from her door into the living room, you pick up your phone from the coffee table. To your surprise it's not her name across the screen, but Sam’s. “What?” you bark out in frustration, not really wanting to talk with him right now. 

“Dean, back off.” Sam says matter of factly. No pleasantries, just straight to the point. 

“She called you? Why?” Confused as to why she is including Sam on this.

“She just needs some space, Dean, I think it's time you come back. Jody called and…” Sam calmly says, trying his best to diffuse the situation from the other side of the country. 

“No, Sam, I am not leaving her! I can’t lose her again, I won’t… I love her, man…”

Your back is to the hallway, so you don’t notice Y/N standing there, listening, hearing  what you should be confessing to her and not your brother. You don’t see her wondering why can’t you just say what you feel? Why can’t you just let down your guard with her and tell her?

*****

The slamming of a trunk pulls Dean back to the present, and he looks up to see you carrying an arm load of groceries. Of course you would do it in one trip. He shakes his head, remembering that you never like to take more than one trip from the car to the house. Your logic always being, as you told him, I am a single girl, I can do it in one go. He watched as you held the screen door open with your butt, as you switched all the bags to one arm so you could open the door with the other. Looking away once you're inside, Dean notices it’s about 20 minutes since you pulled in the driveway. Had you been sitting there this whole time? You have only gone to the hospital and store, but still your energy must not be back to what it used to be. 

Maybe he should check, make sure you're doing okay. Look in the window really quick. Getting out of the car and walking the short distance, he looks over to your car to see that you still had some toilet paper and paper towels in the back seat. Knowing that you would be back, he decides to help you out. Opening up the door as quietly as possible he grabs the items, and takes them up to the door. Putting them in between the screen door and main door, he turns around to leave.

His eyes look in the kitchen window, to see you putting away your items. Your back is to him, so you don’t notice. You seem lost in your own world, on auto pilot putting things away. Dean takes a moment to appreciate that he can see you up close. His eyes scan the room, noticing the post-it notes all over. He never remembers you having so many of them before. He can’t read what they say, but they are everywhere; on the cabinets, counter tops, table, Was your memory getting worse? 

Panic, and anger - at himself more than anything -  sets in.

*******

Y/N POV

“I love her Sam, I am in love with her…I can’t…no I won’t lose her, I need to tell her how I feel…”

“You don’t love me, Winchester” your voice stops Dean from rambling on the lies that you know, in the end, he doesn’t mean.

Dean turns to see you standing there, your eyes red from crying. But you're not crying now; no, now you  look  pissed, like you want to kick some ass - and Dean’s is the closest one. “Got to go Sam.” Dean quickly says, ending the call. “What do you mean I don’t love you. Of course I do, I….”

You hold up a hand, and stop Dean from saying anything more. “No, you don’t. People like me, we don’t have sexy knights to save us. To fall in love with us, to whisk us away, and want to play house with.” Determine to get this all out, to get your point across and make him accept reality. 

“We are your best friend, the girl you call on Friday nights when your date falls through, or you strike out with the bartender. We are your ‘wing woman’, we pick you up, dust you off, and send you back out into the world. We build your confidence up, while we sit on the sidelines alone.”

“Y/N that's not true…” Dean starts to protest.

“Let me finish, I have to get this out.” taking a breath, you can see he’s hurt, that he wants to argue, to explain his side. “Yes, you care for me, but you don’t love me, and you're not In love with me. You're in love with this idea of a life outside of hunting, you love the idea of playing house.” Closing the gap between you, even though you know better than to get  this close to him. You're playing with fire, but you're desperate to feel him. 

“You're right, I am in love with the idea of an apple pie life. But I want that life with you, no one else.” Dean interjects before you can shut him down, shut down what is going on between you two before it can even start. 

Taking a chance, he grabs your hand and brings it up to his chest and places it over his heart. “Can’t you feel my heart? It’s racing for you. It always has, it always will.”

 Feeling the softness of the white t-shirt between your fingers, you take a breath and inhale the smell of him. “Sooner or later we both know this won’t be enough, that I won’t be enough.” You talk to his chest, not wanting or able to look him in the eye, your voice low and shaky. “You're going to leave me, sideline me, and only blow through town when you need something.”

“That's not true! You have always wanted your own life. I always wanted to protect you as much as I could. The things that Sam and I deal with, the people and monsters we hunt, if anything ever happens…you are a vulnerability that they will exploit. I know it.” 

“Maybe. Even more reason why you have to go…and never come back…” Glancing up to see the gut punch you just delivered written on his face. You try to take a step back.

Dean won’t let you go, bringing a hand around your waist, holding you. “What?! No! I won’t cut you out of my life. I now know I was stupid for ever doing that. For letting you live alone, or at the very least, not in the same state as the bunker.” He practically commands, with no hesitation. How could you think he would ever agree to this?   

“Y/N, I need you in my life. You can’t deny that there is something between us.” His words are sweet, his voice is low as he leans into you. His breath fans over your face, as his hands caress your cheek. “Please, I need you.” 

His lips are so close to yours, that if you lean ever so slightly, you would finally know how soft his lips are. Would they fulfill your fantasies? God, maybe you should live in this fantasy for as long as you can, screw being logical. Let it be a future Y/N problem, present Y/N wants to know what it's like to be wanted by Dean Winchester. “I…Dean…”

*******

 Y/N and Dean POV 

“Dean, what are you doing here?” Your voice pulls him from the memory of that night, and he looks to see you standing at the door, one hand holding open the screen door. 

Oh fuck, well, this wasn’t the plan at all. Giving her a smile, “Hey Y/N, I was in the neighborhood…thought I would…”

“So you're stalking me now?”

“Hehe, no, I said I was in the neighborhood, wanted to see how you are…you look good.” He says, letting his eyes look at you. You did look good, but tired, your eyes didn’t shine like they normally did before; the spark, the hint of twinkle is gone.

“Liar, I look like shit, but thanks.” You quip, knowing that you don’t look good at all. Wearing a ratty hoodie and jeans, you opted for comfort over trying to impress anyone. “Well, thanks for stopping by.” You say, giving him a fake smile and turning to walk back in the house. 

“Umm…Y/N, I could, I mean Sam could use your help with something, he knew I was going to be passing through and wanted me to stop by and ask for some help.” Quickly thinking on his feet, he creates an excuse. He didn’t want to leave yet, this is the most he has talked to you since that night. He would be damned if he was going to let you leave so soon. 

You turn back to look at Dean, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth or not. Sam had your number, and you were still speaking to the younger Winchester - he didn’t break your heart and live up to everything you knew would happen. “Why didn’t he call me?” You question, wanting to make Dean work for it. He wasn’t getting in that easy!

He takes a few steps towards you, “well, like I said, he knew I was in the area.” One step lower from you, his green eyes lock with yours, silently pleading with you to let him in. “He wanted me to pick up a lore book on Pixies, and said you had a copy that we don't have in the library.”

“Fine, come in. I will go grab it.” You reply, turning away from him, letting him catch the door before it slams in his face. 

Dean shucks off his jacket and boots, and looks around while you go back to find the book. He can now see the post-its in detail, reminding you where your keys, jacket, bag should be put. Making his way to the kitchen, cabinets are labeled with what should be in them: dry food, dishes, silverware. Daily schedule on the fridge. “Having fun snooping?” Your sarcastic tone has him turning on his heels to see you standing in the doorway with a book in hand. 

“Umm…sorry…” he says sheepishly, hating  that he got caught. He can see you're not amused, and he is really going to have to lay on the charm to win you back. 

“Yeah, well at least I am keeping the post-it company in business. Here is the book.” You say handing it to him.

Dean takes it, and looks at it, giving it a nod, “Thanks, yep this is it.” 

“Okay, well, you better get going, since Sam is in ‘desperate’ need of it and all.” Your voice is flat, not in the mood to deal with him. “You know where the door is.” You add, just turning that knife even deeper. 

“Look, Y/N can we talk?” Dean can tell you're not your usual self, and he really wants to get you back.

“Oh now you want to talk? You sure as hell didn’t want to talk for four months. Didn’t want to talk when you woke up the next morning regretting that kiss, regretting what we said to each other, the promises you made.” You snap at him, the frustration building in you. Why does it always have to be on his time? God you were just getting over him, right?

“I know. I was a jerk, it was a dick move, and I am sorry.”

“You're sorry, really?That's all you have to say?” Turning away from him, just looking at him and his sad puppy dog face, you want to smack him. Fuck, you want to hit yourself for being an idiot that night. 

******

“Dean…please…I…” You have to keep strong, tell him to go, you know this won’t end well.

“Please Y/N, You're the only good thing I have in this world, I can’t lose you.” Not waiting for a reply, his lips find yours. 

They're soft, perfect, molded to fit yours, and gentle, Dean doesn’t force his way. Pulling away, when your lungs start to burn,you lock eyes with him. Lust blown, his lips slightly pink. No words are exchanged, you silently say everything you need to him at that moment, and he seems to understand. Bringing his hands to cup your face, he goes back in to kiss you more, letting his tongue swipe across your lips. You allow his tongue to dance with yours. 

Fumbling your way to the couch, Dean falls back first, and you do your best not to land on top of him completely, giggling at the state you're both in. Dean looks up at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, and looking up at you lovingly, “God, I love that laugh of yours.” He says, pulling you down on him. Letting you feel what you're doing to him. 

“Dean, I have to be crushing you.” You protest, trying your best but failing at getting out of the vice grip Dean has on your hips. 

“Nope, You're staying right here.” He says, as he starts to pepper kisses down your neck. 

******

“Dean, I begged you to leave! I knew you never wanted me! And yet like an idiot, I fell for your charm and under your spell.” You grit out, turning on your heels and walking away from him. Fuck, you can’t keep doing this! 

“I did ... .I do ...Y/N look at me” Dean pleads, setting the book down he follows you to the living room, grabbing your hand. “Please, let me explain.”

Turning around, you pull your hand back. His touch, like fire, like touching a hot pan. “You know, I thought for a split second you were telling me the truth. That you wanted me like I have always wanted you.” Pain radiates through you, your voice seems to be stuck behind a lump forming in your throat. God, you want to smack him, but at the same time, kiss him.

Dean’s speechless, trying to work out how best to tell you what he was thinking in that split second when he woke up in your arms that day. For one second he felt total bliss, that everything was falling into place; then reality of his life came back into focus.

“I know, it wasn’t my finest hour.”

You laugh at this, you think!? “What is there to explain? We kissed, had a pretty good makeout, groped each other over and under our clothes, but then we both agreed to take it slow. Right?” You ask for confirmation, even though you remember it all too well.

“Yes, but, Y/N, if you just let me…” Dean stumbles to explain.

“But then, I wake up the next morning alone on the couch with a note that says, ‘Hey, Y/N, Sorry, Sammy needs me, will check in soon.’”

The space between you two is nonexistent. You're trying to find anything in those green eyes of his that will refute anything you just said. Anything to explain that you're overreacting, but there is nothing. He has no rebuttal, because it's all true. He walked out on you, like his father did to him and Sam all the time. The worst part was, Dean had Sam to lean on; you were left with no one.

“Like I said, not my finest hour…” he mumbles out.

“Not your goddamn finest hour?ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!” you yell, slamming your fists into his chest and pushing him away.  It does nothing to move him, and takes all your energy out of you. You stumble a bit, then lean back and sit on the arm of the couch.

“Hey, Y/N, please, calm down.'' His voice is heavy with concern, and he tries to help you up so you can sit on the couch.

“Don’t…touch…me…” You cough out. Needing water, you look to find your water bottle is nowhere. “Fuck….I…” You keep coughing, and try to get up.

“Water?” Dean questions. You nod, and try to get back up. “No, sit, I will go get it.” He tells you and quickly goes to the kitchen, and is back with a glass of water in seconds.

You down about half, the cool water helps calm you and your coughing fits. “Thanks” you mumble, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he ‘saved you again.’ You don’t look at him as you sit down the glass and avoid him at all costs.

Dean takes this as his opportunity to tell you his side. Sitting on the coffee table so he has direct eye contact with you, he reaches for your hand. “Please, Y/N, I am truly sorry. I know I was a jerk for leaving you like that, and for never calling or coming back.”

You stare him down, not  giving him an out on this one. “Go on. You will hear no objection from me on this one.” You reply.

Dean lets out a small sigh that clearly said fuck, alright here we go. “I was fucking scared, okay? I woke up, saw you in my arms, and for a split second I felt like I was home. My first thought was, this is perfection. No monster, no running the roads, crappy dinner food, and sketchy motels.” 

He leans towards you, putting a hand on your knee, and lightly runs his hands up and gives you a knowing smile. “The perfect, sexy, beautiful, girl in my arms, that I can’t wait to wake up and…”

You stop his hand from getting too close to what both you and him want to touch. “Not so fast  Winchester.” Knowing if he keeps going, you are definitely going to end up in a very compromising position. “No, I bet your first thought was, oh fuck what the hell did I do, and how the hell do I get out of it.”

“No, will you let me talk?. God, I see COVID can take your memory, but not your self-hatred or inability to butt in.” 

You hold your hands up in a fake defense, “Please go on.” You quip back, leaning back into the couch. 

Dean shakes his head, at least you’re sassing back, that is a good sign. “I got up, was going to start coffee for us, and while I was in the kitchen, Sam did call…

*******

“Hey Sammy,”

“How’s everything Dean, you kinda left me hanging? Did you and Y/N talk?” Sam asks, feeling like a schoolgirl catching up on the latest gossip between you too.

Dean takes a quick peek into the living room to make sure you're still asleep. “Yeah, everything is good. We talked and I think we are going to take things slow.” Dean explains, as he starts to make the coffee, he recounts most of the conversation between you two. Not all the details though, he wants to keep the really good stuff just for him. 

Sam lets out a sigh, “That's good, I am happy for you both. But now I hate to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Look, I know you still want to take some time, until Y/N is fully healed, but Jody could really use your help. There is something in South Dakota that is running amuck, and she’s worried that Claire is going to try and tackle it herself.”

Oh Claire, how she reminds Dean of himself sometimes, headstrong and just ready to fight anything that wasn’t human. She is a good hunter, but she is young. “Umm…yeah…I am sure I can make something work….”

“Thanks Dean, I am sure it will only be a day or two, and then you can get back to Y/N. I will call Jody and tell her to expect you.” Sam says.

Saying their goodbyes, Dean hangs up the phone, and has to hold back from throwing it across the room in anger. Fuck! Not two seconds, and he’s already been pulled back into the madness. How is he going to explain this to her? She won’t believe him, she will be heartbroken again, think it's her fault, and say that she told him. 

Seeing no other solution - or maybe it was that he didn’t want to wake you and see that pain in your eyes - he takes the cowardly way out. 

*****

“So you went to help Jody, a friend of mine. And didn’t think I would understand?” You question him, after he explains the conversation between him and Sam. 

“Yes…I guess I figure you would just see it as an excuse I came up with to leave you. Which it wasn’t, by the way.”

“But you said you would call, check in. But you didn’t! You couldn’t have been helping Jody this whole time? And even if you were, could you still have called!”

“I wanted to, but as I was driving away, I kept thinking about what you said, that you felt like an afterthought, that I blow through town whenever I need you. Take what I need and leave you with nothing.”

“So you figure, prove me right by ghosting me? Well, thanks Winchester, real fun.” You spit sarcastically, giving his knee a not-so-playful slap and getting up from the couch. “The door is still where you left it, you can see yourself out.” Fucking asshole. I need to get those locks changed tomorrow. You think, making your way to the kitchen to get some more water, to do anything but sit there and keep listening to him.

“Y/N, please. I am sorry, you're not an afterthought. The more that I kept driving, and the longer I pushed off calling you, it made it harder to call you. Because I knew as soon as I did I would lose you.”

“Funny, because the second you left, you lost me Dean. God, I woke up that morning and was devastated. Do you know how much I hate feeling like that?” Not needing him to answer, you lean up against the counter crossing your arms around yourself. Feeling the tears start to fall, you might as well go all the way. 

“You know, I never wanted to be that girl, who cried over a guy, who refused to do anything but sleep on that goddamn couch for two months because it was the last place I felt safe, and whole, and seen. I could still smell you on the pillows and blanket.” 

Taking a breath, you run your hands over your face. Taking another ragged breath, you work up the courage to tell him what you know he should know, but that you're scared to say out loud. “But the thing I hate the most, the one thing that makes me want to scream…is that I still love you.” You laugh at this. Its fucking absurd. Trying your best  to stifle your laughter, but it keeps bubbling out of you in frustration and disbelief 

Dean’s not sure how to react. On the one hand, you say that you still love him, but on the other hand your laughing like the fucking Joker. “Being in love with me is…funny?” he tentatively asks. Taking a few steps towards you, but not closing the distance. 

Wiping the tears from your face, you admit quietly, “yes, because I know, no matter what, I will always let you back in. I guess I am just a masochist that way. I would rather have you in my life, and be heartbroken, than to not have you and still be heartbroken.”

Shaking your head, in disbelief that you actually said those words out loud, and to Dean no less. You look up to see him watching you, waiting. “God I am pathetic…you really should not have saved me that night…” you mumble the last part to yourself. Pushing yourself off the counter, you turn away from him, to straighten up the non-existent mess on the counter. Shit, should not have said that. 

“GOD DAMN IT Y/N!” Dean’s yell booms, causing you to turn around to see Dean seething with rage.    Taking the last few steps towards you, he pulls you into a vice grip of a hold. “Don’t you ever say that again, do you hear me? Do you?” He commands, shaking with hurt and pain. 

He’s not angry at you, he's angry that you don’t understand how much you mean to him. That you hold your life as something subpar. Pulling away slightly, he lets go so he can hold your face in his hands. “Please don’t ever think or say that I shouldn’t have saved you that night.” His green eyes, glassy with tears about to be shed, bore into yours. “You are the only good thing in my life, and I know I have a lot of work to do to gain your trust back, and that my life is messy and chaotic, but please…please….don’t ever think I would regret saving you that night.”

You nod your head in response. “Okay” you whisper, “I promise.” You were taken aback by his outburst; Dean has never raised his voice to you, or looked this broken. Then again, you’ve never been this broken, or joked about that night before either. It was a topic that neither of you ever really discussed, more of an unspoken bond between you two.

Relief seems to wash over him. His hands fall from your face, his arms wrapping them around your waist, not wanting to leave the closeness of you. “I know I have a lot of work to do, and this may be pushing my luck. But can I kiss you?” Giving you a half smile, hoping that will seal the deal.

“Fuck, there’s that Winchester charm,” you joke, smirking as well. Screw it, it's been four months without those lips. You lean in and kiss him. Letting your lips dance with his for a bit, you pull back, “just as good and I remember.” you say cheekily.

“So, should we go make some new memories on that couch of yours?” Dean gives you a wink, walking backwards towards the living room, his arms still around yours.

You have no choice but to follow him, nodding. You know that you have a lot of work to do getting over your own insecurities and self doubt that Dean will get tired of you, or that he will regret being with you. You need to have faith in him, and in yourself, that you are worthy of a happy life with him; whatever that looks like.

[ajvocals43]

Mine

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 1058 

Warnings: Slight swearing, slight smuttiness (if you squint), bad writing probably, body image issues

A/n: Another birthday fic I wrote for the wonderful Dean Winchester. Also can be read as a prequel to the fic I wrote last year: Birthday 

 "Up." 

 "No.” He gave me a look that I knew to cut off, “Dean, remember my thing about sitting on things that aren't made for sitting on?" 

 "It's a metal counter top. I promise there is no chance of you breaking it." And then he took matters into his own hands and lifted me onto the island himself. I had tried not to but I couldn't help the sound that came out of me at the feeling of being picked up. I knew he was strong but I didn't expect that. 

 "Dean are you-" 

 He didn't let me finish. "Y/n, I already told you. Your gorgeous body is not nor has it ever been ‘too heavy’. I would tell you if it were different, okay?" 

 “No, you wouldn't.” I protested, “I don't get this way for no reason, I'm big, I know that. I-” 

 He knew me well enough that he already knew where I was going with this. “Yeah. Big… beautiful… and mine.” He pulled me into him before saying, “I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, there is nothing about you that doesn't make me crazy about you. There's a reason that you are the longest relationship I've ever had. You and Sam are my everything. I wouldn't trade either of you for the world. Don't ever doubt that. Now sit there and let me feed you cake because it’s my birthday and I feel like feeding my gorgeous girlfriend.” 

 And that was all he wanted to say apparently because the next thing I knew, there was a piece of cake on a fork in front of my face. I didn't fight my smile, opening my mouth anyway to let him feed me. And I wouldn't lie, that cake was amazing. Some kind of mix of chocolate and vanilla that melted on the tongue and I couldn't help the moan that escaped at the taste. 

When my eyes finally opened again, (though I'm not sure when they closed) I found Dean with heat in his eyes. Even after how long we’d been together, I was surprised that I could be the cause of that look from him. 

 “Shouldn’t I be the one feeding you because it’s your birthday?” I was scrambling for a subject change. There was too much to do between the pie in the oven and the party waiting to be put together in the next room. I didn't have time to act on his look, no matter how much I wanted to. 

 He shrugged before saying “You know me well enough that I wouldn't eat it, as close as Sam seems to think it is. Especially since you made me a pie that is currently in the oven.” He leaned in to seal his lips to mine in a soft kiss that made my heart flutter with its sweetness. 

 It was then that the timer on my phone went off for me to pull said pie out of the oven. When I straightened from the oven, placing the pie on top of a hot pad, Dean came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “That smells delicious.” he groaned, “My favorite kind of present.” 

 “Well that's good, considering the other one.” I mumbled. 

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked. Shit, did I say that out loud? “Y/n? What's wrong?” 

 “Okay so you do have a present from me, but I got it impulsively and I thought it was a good idea but now I'm not so sure…” I tried to pull away but he wouldn't let me. 

 “Sweetheart, what is it?” He seemed concerned. I felt the heat creep up my neck as I tried to find a way to explain the nonsense that had come out of my mouth. 

 I didn't end up saying anything. Instead, I took his hand that had been stroking my hip underneath my shirt and moved it up to the lace that covered my breast. 

 He groaned. “I stand corrected. Happy birthday to me.” he murmured in my ear. A shiver ran down my spine at the tone of his voice. That heat was back. His lips started placing slow kisses along my neck, his hands roamed my body, feeling the lace and killing my brain cells. Specifically the ones that would keep me from letting this go further. It took all the strength I had to fight off my arousal and Dean. 

 “No. Not now.” I said softly. 

 “What’s wrong?” it was like a switch had flipped. In an instant all the heat was gone, replaced by confusion and worry. 

 “I don't have time. I have to go to the store, remember?” I tried to pull out of his arms again to no avail. 

 “To hell with the store.” he nuzzled his face back into the crook of my neck. 

 “No, remember? I have to go get the stuff for burgers. Isn't that what you wanted for your birthday dinner?” 

 “But you take forever when you go to the store.” he groaned and I laughed both at the tickling sensation and at his attitude. 

 “Unless you want to go, I have to.” I told him, hoping he’d take the bait so that I could call Sam and the gang in to help set up the surprise party I had planned for tonight. His arms disappeared from my waist and he was walking over to the table to grab his coat and keys. “Where are you going?” 

 “To the store,” he said plainly. “I'll be back in half an hour.” 

 “You're ridiculous.” I said, shaking my head. I hoped he believed my acting skills because otherwise I was screwed and this surprise was ruined. Luckily, he hadnt seemed to notice anything and with a quick kiss to my lips, went down the hall towards the garage. 

 And then he scared the shit out of me when he popped his head back in the kitchen saying, “Don't think I’ve forgotten about my present.” I had to laugh as I ran to catch up and walk him to his car (to make sure he got there this time). I waited until I couldn't see his car in the garage anymore before I texted Sam. 

We’re a go

 To which I got the response: 

You're lucky he’s in love with you. 

Masterlist 

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Hi, dear!

First of all, happy birthday again! 🥳 Hope you're having a great day 🤗

Second, for your birthday challenge, I chose the characters Reader and Dean Winchester, and prompts 25, 30 and 44.

Can't wait to read what you'll come up with 😁

❤

Thanks for the request! You’re the third one! Yay!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Prompts:

25. Do you want me to stop?

30. If something were to happen to you… I don’t think I could take it

44. I might have slept with your robe while you were gone (Sorry!)

Magic dust

WC: ~3K

Warning: fluff. Smut. NSFW. 18+

Author Note: I chose to make them: Plus Size!F!Reader. I hope that is ok? Third one! Yay! I hope you like it. Tenses charged are an issue. Enjoy!

Author Note #2: I apologize. It’s supposed to be a drabble and went much longer. I wasn’t able to get the third one in but when I have more time, might see about doing a part 2. This was fun!

Y/N knew the brothers first by reputation then introduced by Bobby a few years back when she ran into a pair of lamias. The hunt ended well and Y/N enjoyed the craziness of the case with them as they did with her, so they have remained in contact since.

It had been months since Y/N and the Winchesters had hunted together. She had picked up a weird case in a typical suburban area that she couldn’t put her finger on, so she gave up after two weeks and called them for help.

They drove in and met at her hotel room. When they came up to the third floor and knocked, having seen your old Ford Escape was there, but Y/N didn’t answer. They exchanged a look between them and Dean pounded on the door as Sam called you. Still silent except for your ringtone coming from inside the room—one that Dean had recommended for their ringtone of Metallica he liked. Dean moved to the side and drew his gun as Sam backed up doing the same and then kicked the door in.

Y/N laid across the closest queen size bed to the door. A small open box fell on to the bed next to her. Dean ran up to and kept beside her to check her pulse, “She good.” Sam with his gun at the ready checked the small hotel room, “All clear.” He went and closed the door while Dean checked her out.

She was in a pale pink tank top and blue jeans tucked into calf-high black boots. Sam quickly searched in the closet and under the bed and drawers, “Dean.” A hex bag in his hand and anger began to cross his features. He opened and tore up the bag then trashed it.

Dean looked very confused at the bag then at Sam and motioned for him to look at her, “Y/N has pink stuff on her.”

Sam looked at him, “What?” He leaned over her and looked carefully, a fine pink powder dusted much of her face and neck. He saw a pen on the nightstand and took it using it like a stick to turn the box upright. “Whatever it is, it was in the box,” Sam stated.

Dean glanced at the box then back to Y/N. “Maybe after cleaning it off, she’ll wake up?” Dean questioned out loud and moved to the bathroom before Sam could reply to get a wet washcloth. He returned with a warm, wet washcloth and a dry one and started gently to wipe her face and neck off.

Y/N began to stir, her eyebrows slightly furrowed and with a quietly sleepy voice she said , “Stop” as she tried to move her face from the washcloth. She attempted to lift her hands but struggled. Dean smirked at her reaction thinking it was cute. “You got whammied, Y/N.” He said as he wiped where he had removed the powder with the dry washcloth. Her eyes fluttered for a few seconds. When she finally opened her eyes and saw Dean’s face, she smiled brightly at him, “Hey.”

Sam watched the exchange with a quiet chuckle.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Just trying to get this powder off of you,” Dean explained.

“Powdered?” Y/N slurred slightly.

Dean picked up the box with the wet washcloth and moved it to her nightstand away from her after showing her.

“Ugh. That bitch. I’m gonna hurt her,” she attempted to exclaim angrily but sounded more drunk as she slurred her words. She tried getting up but Dean pushed her back down, “No, we don’t know what this stuff did to you. You need to relax.”

“I’m fine. Jennifer said she’d send me some new evidence and apparently this is it,” Y/N looked sleepily annoyed.

She tried to motion to the chest of drawers the tv was on, “My, uh…” She looked confused and the brothers exchanged a worried look. She took a deep breath, “TV. Thing you write on.”

Sam looked and saw the pad of paper. He held up the small pad.

“Yeah, Jennifer and Mitchell…um—“ she suddenly yawned and shook her head. She slowly sat up and Dean leaned away slightly. Y/N blinked a few times. She looked at her hands and shook them out. “I’m tingly,” she looked so confused.

“You ok, Y/N?” Asked Dean, concern written all over his face.

“Brain fog. Haven’t been doing great lately. Thought a case would be a good distraction.” She looked at her pants and jeans but didn’t find anything on them.

Sam had been examining Y/N’s notes on the pad about the case. “Lawrence?”

“That’s them,” Y/N quickly responded. A sudden wave of nausea came over her, “Oo oo oo, I need to shower. I don’t know what this shit is but it ain’t good.”

“Need help?” Asked Dean.

Sam giving Dean a look.

“I think I do,” Y/N said worriedly. “Nausea. Dizziness is slowly becoming an issue…or an ear crystal dislodged?”

The brothers looked at her like she was crazy, “it’s part of your equilibrium. You have fluid with ear crystals that your brain recognizes for balance but if they move, it fucks upyour equalibrium until they get moved back in place.”

“Ear crystals?” Asked Sam.

Y/N looked more annoyed. “Google is your friend. Type in ear crystals.” She rolled her eyes, “It’s human biology, people.” She quickly stood up and instantly regretted it and the dizziness immediately worsened causing her to fall without realizing it.

Dean caught her easily, “Hey, Swerheart. You need to rest.”

“I need to shower,” she replied and stood herself back up. With a deep breath and took a slow step forward with Dean attached to her right arm.

Sam looked at Dean who shrugged and then Sam lifted the notepad motioning silently he will go check it out. Dean nodded as Y/N slowly made it to the bathroom.

Y/N interjected, “If you can, Sam, see if you can determine if the Lawrence’s actually did whatever this is and if so, find out what and if it can be reversed. I might have the ingredients in my backpack or know where to get them depending on rarity. If they didn’t, I don’t know.” She turned on the bathroom light with a grin, “Whoot. Ha. Ha.” She slipped from Dean’s grasp and leaned on the small bathroom counter slowly turned around and stared at the combo shower-bath, brow furrowed.

“Will do,” said Sam and he left.

“How you doing there, Y/N?” Dean asked watching her lean against the counter.

“The dizziness is subsiding,” Y/N said then added, “slowly.” She stood up with her lower back touching the counter’s edge. She looked at Dean, “Nudity an issue for you?”

Dean looked at her confused and stepped in the bathroom. He felt his cock stir some at the thought of seeing Y/N naked.

She explained, ”Could you help me get in the shower? Worried I’ll slip and fall.”

Dean gave his best confident smile and nodded, “Yeah, no problem.” He took off his jacket and threw it on the bed closest to the bathroom then went back and waited for Y/N to tell him what to do next. “What do you need me to do?”

“Would you turn in the shower and just stand there while I work to get undressed?”

Dean nodded and went to the shower turn it to a nice warm temperature and went back to his spot next to her but faced to the shower and away from the mirror to give her what little privacy he could offer. She looked at him and giggled, making him glance at her. “You’re sweet, Dean and it’s a chivalrous gesture, but nudity is nudity, a body is a body, and it’s only sexual if you want it to be, and none of that really bothers me. So, if you want to look then look.” She chuckled at him as she took off her jacket and put it folded on the counter next to her.

Dean looked at her surprised. He knew that she was unlike other hunters he’d met, men or women, and she wasn’t easily won by his charms. He had not ever thought of the human body that way. Not sexualizing it automatically but choosing to or not.

She held onto the counter and Dean’s arm as she kicked off her boots under the sink then stepped on the toe of her sock and pulled and repeated with the other foot.

“Huh? I never thought of doing that,” Dean said looking at her feet.

“I don’t always have good use of my hands so I have to figure out other ways to do things sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, very interested. Y/N never talked much about herself besides her interests and other typical conversation items. He didn’t know much about her personally.

She smiled at him and looked at him, “I really shouldn’t be hunting but it makes the most sense to me after everything.”

“Oh, I understand that.” He agreed.

She pulled off her tank top and sports bra in one go. Dean was unprepared for the sudden sight of her breasts— soft, a bit bigger than palm size for him , which was plenty, with surprisingly matching colored areolas and nipples to her top, and a pale scar on the outside of her right breasts—and her abdomen, soft, round with some pudge. He wondered how it would feel holding her or kissing her. His cock was enjoying the view a little too much and caused him to cough and turn away as he tried to nonchalantly adjust himself. Stop it. He thought to himself frustrated at how his body wasn’t cooperating.

While she noticed looking her over as she undressed, she mentally shrugged.

He heard her unzip her jeans and then they fell to the floor. “Would you check the temp, please? Don’t want it too hot, ya know?”

“Sure,” he replied as he reached through the curtain and checked the temp with his hands “It’s good.”

“Good,” she replied while she looked down to the floor.

Dean looked to the floor and back up her legs and noticed how muscular her calves were and her thighs were just thick with some stretch marks here and there. “Problem?”

“Just deciding,” she stated. She shrugged, turned away from Dean, and hooked her fingers in the band on both sides. She slowly took them down her legs and bent at the waist, flashing her ass right in front of Dean. She hid a cheeky grin from him as she did, completely intentional.

“Feeling better?” Dean asked when he saw her finish getting undressed.

“Tingly but dizziness seems to almost be gone.”

“You said that before,” Dean asked, curious, but was still faced away from her. “What do you mean by ‘tingly’?”

“Almost like everything is vibrating, not jittery or shaky,” she paused a minute. “Give me your hand. It’s ok. Turn around.”

He slowly turned around and saw she had her hand held out for his with a small grin on her face. “Let me see if I can show you. Give ne your hand.”

He hesitated but did as she asked. He put his hand in her palm face up and gently tapped her finger tips on his palm and slowly sped up the tapping. The sensation she caused him went straight to his cock. As she sped up, leaned on the sink and closed his eyes, every tap went to his cock and spread out like lightning.

She paused as she looked at his handand examined his index finger, “what’s that on your finger?”

Dean opened his eyes alarmed and looked.

She leaned down and smelled it, “Mmmm?” There was just a touch of the pink powder still on his finger from when he checked her carotid pulse. The urge to suck his finger became overwhelming and was so unexpected, she just reacted.

She engulfed his index finger in her mouth sucked it slowly up to the tip and rubbed her teeth against the tip of his sensitive finger releasing a quiet groan from his throat. Not realizing she had closed her eyes or even was holding his hand captive in both of hers, she opened them looking at his face as she repeated this again, sucking even harder.

Dean closed his eyes as the sensation over took him and moaned, “Oh my god, Y/N.”

She released his finger with an audible pop and a smirk on her lips, “Do you want me to stop?”

Dean opened his eyes and looked confused at Y/N, “No.” A moment later, “Wait” and pulled his hand,which took a few times before Y/N let him go, from her grasp. He sighs and crinkles his freckled nose, “You’re under a spell or some kind of magick. As much…” He takes a deep breath as he just lingers over her naked form, “As much as I would absolutely love to continue this, that would be taking advantage of you and I’m not that guy.” He slowly took a step back, concerned.

She placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him, and then she turned around and picked up her pants digging in it. She took out her cell and dropped her pants, “Fine, I’ll call Sam. I’m sure he would.”

Dean yanked the cell out of her hand and threw it towards the bed, and came back blocking the door.

“Oooo, jealous?” Y/N asked and slowly walked towards him, slowly swaying her hips with each step. He but his lower lip as he watched her approach. He did not back up and she reached out her hand to his Henley. “So soft.” She licked her lips then pressed them together as if putting on lipstick. . “You always look good in these shirts. I bet the ladies love them.”

She watched his face as she spoke and now she stood barely an inch apart. She slowly wrapped her hands over his shoulders. “I know you want me, Dean Winchester. I’ve wanted you for quite some time myself,” she ran her nails down on to his chest causing a quick inhale from him. “But, well, you intimidated me, I didn’t think you’d ever go for someone like,” she said in a quiet voice, “little ol’ me. Fucked up, scarred, chubby hunter who is still new to the scene.” She paused a moment to run her fingertips up and down the side of his neck. She pressed herself into him watching his face with a grin.

“Not like you and your womanizer reputation. Hot, delicious Dean Winchester, amazing hunter and fighter, and amazing in bed with a masterful tongue and talented fingers. That’s what I’ve been told by several other female hunters.” She pushed at him slightly and turned away from him to sit on the closet toilet seat. She put her elbows on her knees, legs spread out which drew his eyes where she wanted them, her dripping wetness.

“I found you very intimidating. You got it all, Mr. Winchester. Ridiculously attractive. I’m sure you’re just delicious,” she licked her lower lip then bit driving a groan from him. “Family. Resourceful. Physically fit and surpassing stamina. You’re very funny. No matter what Sam says, you’re hilarious. And a complete pop culture geek which I adore.” her smile softened as she looked at him and her eyes changed in a manner he couldn’t recognize, “Yeah, you’re a self-medicating alcoholic who eats way too much junk and has a rage that escapes you from time to time in the right places it seems, but I would take that all just to have you be mine.”

She stood hesitating, shook her head a moment then added, “Since I’m being so honest, if something were to happen to you, Mr. Winchester, I don’t think I could take it.” She let him go and stepped into the shower and remained silent.

Dean stood there surprised at her confession with an arousal that was trying to break free of his jeans, and worried it was the spell talking and not her. He was worried he was also affected by the spell.

She stuck her head, soaking wet hair and water dripping down her face causing droplets to stay on her eyelashes with a cheeky grin on her lips, “You're welcome to join me.” She but her lower lip and went back into the shower.

Dean was unable to say no anymore and gave into the invite. Quickly stripping, he closed and locked the bathroom door. Sorry, Sammy, he thought to himself right before he joined her in the shower.

An hour after he left, Sam came back to the room on his phone, “Ok. Thanks, Rowena. Will call if she doesn’t change by tomorrow afternoon.” He hung up and realized the shower was running but no one was on the beds. He heard moaning from the bathroom and scoffed. Oh my god, Dean. No, Sam thought and walked right back out of the room. He texted Dean telling him he was getting them a room at the motel and to call him when they were done.

Comments and Feedback are welcome!

Graphics: @firefly-graphics

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[this-is-spn20]

Day 18 of Christmas: Snuggle Up on the Couch 

You swung your apartment door open and stepped inside, desperate to escape the cold. Sam and Dean ran in behind you, still laughing to themselves as you scurried to turn on the heater. You probably should’ve done that before you’d all left. Oops. You guys drank enough hot chocolate while you were out to fill your stomachs to bursting. You couldn’t take another sip from another cup. You were pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to look at another cup for the next month. You laughed at yourself, knowing damn well that wasn’t true. Dean turned on your tv in the living room while Sam went into the bathroom to freshen himself up.

You went to your bedroom, closed your door, and proceeded to undress and put on some comfortable pajamas before heading back into the living room where Sam and Dean were on opposite ends of the couch, conversing with each other. You plopped down in the middle of them and asked if they’d found anything good to watch. Dean said he was trying to look. Dean finally found some sort of action film to watch. You loved action movies, but you couldn’t focus on the movie. The heater hadn’t kicked up completely yet and you were freezing. 

Dean, being the ever-observant person he was, noticed your poor attempt to stop your shivering. He reached over your shoulders and grabbed your throw blanket hanging over the middle of your couch and draped it over your shoulders. He then reached his arm around your shoulders again, pulling your body into his. You tensed up for a moment before relaxing into Dean’s warm body. Sam looked over at the two of you, and you noticed he looked uncharacticalisticly jealous. You giggled and beckoned him to lay on your lap. He smiled and moved down the couch so his legs would dangle over the edge and Sam gently laid his head on your lap, moving your left so that it dangled on his shoulder. You blushed at the potentially exposing position you were in. If anyone walked in on you guys right now, you didn’t even want to know what they would think. 

But there you all were. Comfortable, and though it took a while, you were warm. And as you drifted off to sleep, you slowly didn’t care. 

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

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[emisanemu]

Five more minutes

Dean Winchester x plus size reader

Rated M for blood and cursing

Word count: 884

Warnings: blood, slaying of vampires, blood, major character death

Description: A story in which you fall on the nail instead of Dean.

Your blood is pumping, breath wavering slightly, droplets of blood drip down the side of your face, sweat and blood. The masked vamp rushes towards you as you raise your blade to behead the monster. A smile forms on your face, ready to end another hunt, to save lives, thoughts of being home at the bunker cross

your mind as you square up with the vamp.

"It's over you vampire bitch."

As the words fall from your lips your swing the blade forward, chopping straight at the vamp's neck.

Everything happens so fast, like a flash before your eyes, you feel a hard shove against your chest, your blade flies from your hands as you hit the wooden pillar behind you. A sharp angry pain flies through your body, the wet feeling of blood running down your back, your eyes widen with a sudden realization of what just happened.

      Before you know it Dean grabs your discarded blade and sends it flying through the vamps neck, a harsh thud cuts through the sounds of your heavy breathing as his body falls to the ground.

You look at Dean, his green eyes locking on to you, looking you up and down for any marks, any visible evidence of a hunt gone wrong.

"C'mon, let's go get those boys out of here, and then get you cleaned up."

You would not be taking those boys home, you wouldn't be leaving this farm house, not alive at least. Your voice shakes as you speak,

"Dean, you-you and Sam get those boys home, I'm not going anywhere, there's something in my back, going right through my body, I can feel the blood Dean."

Dean's eyes lock onto your injured form once more, his breathing picking up as he comes closer to you. He approaches slow, his hand comes up as he reaches behind you. His fingers touch the entry point of the object and you wince, another hot flash of pain running from the top of your body to your feet. He pulls his hand back, dark crimson blood covers his palm. You look at Dean and Sam mournfully, your head pounds as more blood seeps from the deep puncture.

"No, no, no, Sam, go get the first aid, now!"

Dean's voice rises to a level of panic you've never seen before as Sam takes off out of the farm house doors, running to get any aid Dean may have stashed in the impala. Running in vain.

"Dean, I'm not moving from here, whatever it is in my back is the only thing holding me together right now, I'm not gonna make it even three steps off of this thing."

Tears well in your eyes as the words spill from your lips, your voice is horse, your lungs constricting painfully as more of you drains from your body. Your eyes meet Dean's again, the green in his eyes clouded with wetness as he looks at your dying form.

"I-I'll go get help, me and Sam will get you to the hospital, you'll be fine, you have to be fine."

You feel like laughing a crying, crying at the fact you were going to die, but laugh at the vain hope Dean had. You raise your hand, it shakes as the blood loss begins to take its toll on you. Your fingers gently wrap around Dean’s large calloused hands, his eyes meet yours, hope gleaming in them, hope that you would have hope.

“Dean…we always knew how things were going to end….it’s how it always ends for people like us, hunters…we don’t get happy endings, we don’t get fairytales, and we don’t walk away from stuff like this..this is the end Dean.”

Dean begins to cry, it’s not the first time you’ve seen tears come from the older hunter’s eyes, but it was rare. He squeezes your hand tightly and moves closer to you, his chest is heaving, he’s shaking with sadness and anger.

“Dean, look at me, please..”

His sad eyes meet yours, you give a light but pained smile, teas run down your cheeks and blood has started to run from your nose.

“Dean, I know this is the worst timing, all things considered, but I have to tell you, before I fade, I love you, I always have, from the first hunt, but I could never tell you, I was afraid but now is not the time to be afraid.”

The tears fall harder from Dean’s eyes, he’s shaking harder as he brings his hand up to your cheek lightly to cup your face. He keeps eye contact with you as he leans forward as he leans forward catching your lips in a gentle kiss. The kiss is long and emotional as your tears mix together.

As he pulls away Dean feels your hand loosen the grip it has on his owns and your head slumps forward, the front of your short is now covered in blood and you’re not moving. Dean panics and moves his hand to your shoulder moving you slightly. It’s to no avail, it was too late, all Dean wishes for is five more minutes, a chance to say that he loves you to.

[fatecantstopme]

Spell Bound

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: It's sex pollen...I couldn't help myself.

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names. An excessive amount of heavy SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), rough sex, oral (F receiving), multiple cream pies

"I freaking hate witches," Dean mumbled as he picked the lock on the apartment door.

You chuckled softly, very used to hearing him grumble every time you were hunting a witch.

He slowly walked into the apartment and you followed in after him.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" you asked quietly.

"Big scary magic book. Sam said it's probably on or near some kind of altar."

"Big scary magic book," you muttered under your breath. "Makes perfect sense."

You sighed as you walked into the living room and noticed several bookcases lined with large books. "You've gotta be kidding me."

Dean shot you a weary smile. "Guess it might take a little longer than I thought."

"You think?"

You took one side of the room and Dean took the other. Sam had described the look of the book to the both of you, but there was really no way to be 100% certain if you found it.

About 15 minutes into your perusal, you spotted a large leather-bound book tucked under what appeared to be an altar cloth. You slowly removed the cloth, wary of what you might uncover. The book was almost exactly as Sam had described, so you had a feeling it was the right one.

"I think I found it," you said aloud.

At almost the same exact moment, a crash sounded from behind you and Dean let out a string of curses.

You spun around to see the hunter brushing off some sort of florescent pink dust from his face. "What the hell did you do?"

"I was moving some of the books and this box fell out and some powder just kinda...sprayed my face."

"Seriously?"

He looked sheepish. "I didn't even see it."

You sighed. "Great. God only knows what the hell that was."

He looked at the box carefully, but there was nothing written on it to identify the powdery substance he had inhaled. He gave you another sheepish look and shrugged. "Maybe it's not harmful."

You shot him a stony look. "Dean...it's a witch. It's not gonna be fairy dust."

He sighed, knowing you were right. He started shifting his shoulders a bit as if he was uncomfortable.

"Let's get out of here. I'll call Sam on the way back to the motel and see if he has any idea what it could be."

Dean nodded and followed you out the door. By the time you got outside the building and to the car, he was twitching like an addict in need of a fix.

"Dean?" you asked tentatively.

"My skin feels like it's on fire and--and it's like--itchy. And there's a weird feeling inside that I can't describe, but it doesn't feel nice."

"Okay...how 'bout I drive?"

He looked up at you with concerned eyes, but he handed you the keys and got into the passenger seat. You knew he must really be feeling terrible if he was letting you drive Baby.

You started the car up and pulled out of the parking spot while simultaneously calling Sam on your cell. He answered on the third ring.

"Dean got some sort of witchy powder on his face and now he's...itchy?" you said quickly in lieu of a greeting.

Sam sighed. "What are his symptoms?"

You put the phone on speaker. "Dean, what are your symptoms?"

Dean couldn't look at you and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. "I feel like crawling out of my own skin, everything aches, and I'm having a hard time breathing right. Oh and I can literally smell (Y/N)'s skin, which is totally not normal!"

"You can smell my skin?"

He grumbled under his breath. "I can smell your skin and your shampoo and your goddamn body wash, and I want--fuck. What the hell is wrong with me, Sam?"

"Uh, I honestly don't know. Let me call Bobby and see if he has any ideas."

You set the phone down on the seat beside you. "Maybe you're turning into some kind of animal?"

"What?"

"Well, I mean...you can smell me...which is weird and kind of--animalistic."

"I don't think that's it," he said harshly. "My body is aching in a way I can't even begin to describe to you, but I don't think I'm morphing into anything."

You eyed him carefully, worry etched into your face. He was your closest friend and trusted hunting partner, and you hated seeing him like this. Witches scared the shit out of you...you knew what they were capable of.

"Maybe drive a little faster," he hissed.

You pressed harder on the gas and the Impala shot down the road. When your phone rang, you answered it immediately.

"So I think I might know what it is, but I have something I need to ask Dean first," Sam said.

"Okay." You looked at Dean. "Can you hold the phone? Sam wants to ask you something."

Dean took the phone from your hand, hissing as his skin made contact with yours. "What?" he grumbled.

"This is gonna be awkward, but I need to know, okay? Do you feel--umm--aroused at all?"

Dean was silent for a moment as he let his brother's question sink in. Ohhh fuuuuck, he thought to himself. He glanced down at his jeans and noticed the bulge straining against them. With the intense pain he was experiencing, he hadn't really noticed. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled. "Yeah."

"Okay, well the good news is, I know what it is. It's called sex pollen."

"It's called what?"

"Sex pollen. The name doesn't really matter, but you have all the symptoms. They're only going to get worse until--well until you die."

"Die? Is there a cure?"

You looked over at Dean in terror, your foot pressing down even further on the pedal. Dean's hand was shaking slightly as he put the phone on speaker so you could hear.

"You have to--uhh--well--shit. You have to umm...fuck it out."

"I have to what?"

"Dude, I know, okay? But you don't have a choice. If you don't you'll die a rather painful death."

"Son of a bitch," Dean said again. "Can I, umm, take care of it myself?"

"According to what Bobby read, the only option is actual intercourse with another person."

"How long do I have?"

You were acutely aware of Dean's close proximity to you, and now you understood the nature of his pain. Your own breathing was more labored, but you desperately tried to maintain control of yourself. Don't make it weird, (Y/N), you thought to yourself.

"30 minutes from the time of contact until...until death," Sam answered.

"30 minutes?" you gasped. You started doing the math in your head as Dean continued talking to his brother. "We have maybe 10 more minutes until we get back to the motel and that leaves about 10 until..."

Dean looked over at you, his normally green eyes dark with need. "I'm so fucked," he muttered.

"That doesn't really leave us time to find someone for you to--you know," you said worriedly.

"Shit."

"Might wanna make it fast," Sam said.

"Obviously," Dean snapped. "How long will it take to...get out of my system?"

"That depends," Sam began. "If it's meaningless, one and done. If it's someone you care about...that's another story."

"Another story?"

"It could take a lot longer."

"Great," you mumbled.

"Sam, don't be there when we get there," Dean growled at his brother before hanging up the phone.

"Dean?" you questioned softly.

"Just drive, (Y/N)."

You continued driving, but your focus was most definitely not on the road. You could hear the heavy breathing and the soft pained sounds coming from the man beside you and it made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else. It certainly didn't help that you had wanted him for years and seeing him like this was making you feel things you absolutely shouldn't be feeling.

Dean flirted with you regularly, but he flirted with almost every person he came into contact with. It's just a part of his personality, so you never read into it. While Dean quite obviously adored you (and you him), you were not his type. You were a good fighter, sure, but where you really excelled was research. You were brilliant--almost as knowledgable as Bobby, though you still had plenty to learn. You were also significantly more--voluptuous than the women Dean gravitated to. Soft, chubby, more to love--whatever you wanna call it. As such, you'd never made any sort of move to announce your feelings for him. You didn't want to face his rejection.

"Sweetheart, if you don't speed up, I'm liable to die before we make it there," Dean hissed.

You shot him a look. "We're less than two minutes away, so don't die on me yet, Winchester."

He exhaled sharply and nodded. "I'm not gonna make it either way, (Y/N). Like you said, we don't have enough time to find a, uh--partner."

You took a deep breath. "I can't let you die."

He looked over at you and you felt his gaze boring right into your soul. "I can't do that to you."

"I really don't see how we have much of a choice here."

You pulled into the motel parking lot before he could respond.

"Let's go," you said quickly as you got out of the car and made your way to your room.

Dean was right behind you, so close you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. As soon as the door was unlocked, Dean was pushing you through it and locking it behind you.

"Shit," he muttered. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"It's okay, Dean," you said softly. "I'm not afraid."

His eyes widened and he grabbed your chin. "You should be...I'm going to lose control."

"It's alright...use me."

He let out a low growl and squeezed your chin tighter. "I--I won't be able to make this good for you."

You pressed yourself against his body, feeling the hard ridges against you. "It's not about me. You need this."

That was all it took for Dean to let go. His lips attacked yours with a hunger you were not expecting despite the intensity of the situation. He was not at all gentle as he tore your clothes from your body, ripping his own off with equal force.

He tossed you down on the bed with shocking ease. He had absolutely no difficulty manhandling you. You weren't sure if it was the sex pollen or just him.

His lips and hands were everywhere, touching every inch of your soft skin he could possibly reach. He needed to be inside of you so badly it was almost impossible to breathe. His skin burned with each touch and his instincts screamed at him to just break you.

He moves his way down your body and you're surprised as he stops just above your core. "Dean, what are you doing?" You knew he needed a release--and soon--or he wasn't gonna make it.

A voice in the back of his mind kept reminding him this was (Y/N), his (Y/N). Even in his current state, he wanted to avoid hurting you if he could. "Need to get you ready," he grunted.

The words were barely out of his mouth before he was devouring your pussy. The sounds he made were incredible, the feeling almost electrifying. He slid two fingers in and moved them in a scissoring motion to help loosen you up.

He was only down there for a 30 seconds before he came up and locked eyes with you. "I can't hold off anymore."

You nodded. "Just let go. I'll be okay."

He knew the moment he slid inside you, he'd be a goner. Whatever tiny amount of self control he'd managed to hang onto would disappear in an instant. But he could also feel the roaring agony inside him and he needed to feed it before it devoured him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against your ear a split second before he sheathed himself fully inside you.

You cried out--pain mixing with pleasure as his large member stretched you in ways you'd never before experienced.

Dean couldn't give you time to adjust--he was too far gone. His hips began to move and his sole focus was on his own pleasure--his own release.

His thrusts were powerful and fast, so much so that your body started to scoot farther up the bed. He grabbed your hips and held you in place, pace never faltering. The sensations were almost painful given his size, but you wouldn't have stopped him even if you could have.

"Fuck, baby--you feel so good," he grunted.

You were more than a little surprised when he spoke--you hadn't pegged him as a dirty talker. Then again, it could very well have been the pollen. The same could be said of the sounds coming from his mouth. You'd never heard such sinful noises and you loved them.

"So tight--squeezing me so good. Feels like heaven."

You squeezed his cock purposefully, making him groan each time you clenched down. He needed his release and you were gonna make sure he got it. Your own enjoyment was far from your mind--this was essentially a transaction--a lifesaving measure. You had to view it that way to protect your heart...at least that's what you told yourself.

"Baby," he moaned. "Imma fill you up--so close."

Despite the voice in your head telling you this wasn't real--that you shouldn't have any emotional attachments--you reached up and touched his face, caressing it lovingly. "Cum for me, Dean," you whispered.

His eyes locked on yours and he bit his lip--hearing you say his name in the heat of the moment was a bigger turn on than he'd ever imagined. It pushed him right over the edge and he spilled inside of you with a grunt.

You lay beneath him, panting despite the minimal exertion on your part. He'd had his orgasm, but he was still moving, much to your surprise. "You're not done--?"

He shook his head. "Need more."

He pulled out and quickly flipped you over with no warning. You instinctively lifted your hips to allow him access, which he took without hesitation. His cock was still throbbing and the need still burned in his veins. His mind remained singularly focused on his relief--his pleasure.

He slammed into your pussy and set a brutal pace, earning a cry of pain from your lips. This new angle allowed him better access, sending his cock deeper inside of you. His head brushed against your cervix with each thrust, a stinging pain accompanying the pleasure.

Dean's large palm came down on your ass with a hard smack, eliciting a gasp of surprise from your lips. Your pussy clamped down on his cock as he landed another slap to your round cheek.

"Fuck baby, you like that don't you?" Smack. "You like it when I slap this sexy ass?" Smack. "Fuck--squeezing me so tight, sweetheart." Smack.

He was right though, you loved it. You always had, but there was something extra enjoyable about having your ass smacked by Dean Fucking Winchester. Even if you couldn't verbally express your pleasure to him, your pussy made it well-known.

Dean's right hand gripped your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him as he continued pumping. His left hand trailed up your back until he grabbed a fist full of hair at the base of your neck and pulled. Your head snapped back and you cried out, but you didn't fight him.

"Do you know how badly I've wanted to pull this hair, pretty girl? Fuck--I think about it all the time." His pace was relentless and his hand remained entangled in your hair.

You'd never really noticed him looking at your hair in any particular way, so you assumed once again the pollen was making him say such dirty little things.

After several more thrusts, Dean let go of your hair and pushed down on your upper back, forcing you to press your upper body into the mattress. Dean gripped your hips with both of his hands and slammed into you with an intensity that was unmatched by any of his previous actions.

You had a feeling he was close to another orgasm, at least if his grunts and curses were anything to go by. You clenched down around him again, intent on pushing him past the brink.

It worked like a charm. Dean came with a cry of your name, thrusts continuing as he emptied inside of you once again.

You were exhausted and you hadn't had a single orgasm. Part of you really hoped Dean had gotten it all out of his system, but another part of you didn't want this to end. Even if it wasn't real--even if he didn't actually want to be having sex with you, you liked pretending, if only for a little while.

Dean pulled out of you slowly and rolled you over with a surprising gentleness. You assumed that meant he was satiated and the pollen was out of his system.

When you met his eyes, you were surprised by how brilliantly green they were. You'd almost gotten used to the dark forest color that had taken over as a result of the pollen. He was looking at you with an odd expression you couldn't quite place, but for some reason it made you want to scurry away and hide.

"Better?" you whispered.

He cocked his head to the side and a small smirk played on his lips. "Not even close," he murmured.

His lips met yours in a fiery kiss before you had time to respond. Unlike the previous kisses, this one was more passionate, more intense. It made your body tingle all over and a warmth spread through your veins.

Dean's brain fog had finally cleared enough that he could actually slow down and focus on what was happening--on what he was doing, or rather who. He hated that he'd cum twice without even thinking about you, let alone making you orgasm. Dean prided himself on being an excellent lover and he wasn't about to let you leave this bed unsatisfied.

His cock brushed against your pussy as he shifted to hold you closer. You both inhaled sharply, enjoying the sensation. Dean's lips began to travel down your neck, leaving soft, wet kisses in his wake. He nipped at your pulse point, earning an excited moan from you. He liked hearing that sound, so he sucked on that spot until you were panting heavily beneath him.

His hands traveled over your soft curves, touching and squeezing all the parts of your body you were self-conscious about. Dean didn't seem to give a damn that your stomach wasn't flat, that your hips weren't narrow and your thighs weren't skinny--in fact, he seemed to be reveling in the feeling of softness.

His lips were so gentle as he continued his downward movements. He kissed and licked and sucked on each of your breasts, spending several minutes focusing on each one. "You have such perfect breasts," he murmured.

You were too surprised, and perhaps too lost in pleasure, to formulate any kind of response to his words. Luckily, he didn't seem to need one, and he refocused his attention on you.

Once he was satisfied your breasts had received enough love, he continued moving down your stomach, stopping to place soft kisses to every mark and scar he saw.

When he reached your sweet pussy, he spread your legs as wide as he could and settled down between them. You were surprised at his actions, especially since you knew he was still hard--that he still needed another release.

Dean was now singularly focused on one thing--and that was you. Now that his damn brain was working properly, he wanted to make sure you enjoyed this--even if it was a one time thing because you didn't want him to die, he wasn't about to walk away from this without making you scream his name at least once.

He breathed in deeply, smelling your arousal mixed with his own spend, and he smirked. His eyes flicked up to yours and his mouth latched onto your clit, unleashing an overwhelming assault on your swollen mound.

You gasped as the sudden pleasure washed over you. You couldn't take your eyes off the man between your legs--nor did he take his eyes off you. Every time your hips bucked or you tried to move, his strong arms held you in place so he could continue to watch you.

You were writhing against the sheets in what felt like seconds--it was probably longer, but either way you felt embarrassed at how quickly you fell apart under his touch. Your orgasm tore through you like a hurricane, broken moans dripping from your lips.

To your shock, and perhaps concern, Dean didn't stop his assault on your pussy. Even as you tried to squirm away, he held you in place, desperate to give you another orgasm. You whimpered that it was too much, begged him to give you a break, but all of those words quickly morphed into pleas to keep going--don't stop.

"Dean," you gasped as your fingers slipped into his hair, grabbing hold of the short locks by the roots. Your nails scrapped lightly against his scalp and he let out a soft groan.

His tongue seemed to dance across your clit, creating beautiful designs and languages only he seemed to know. He paid attention to what motions made you quiver, which ones made you moan, and which ones had you tugging on his hair with an iron grip.

"Dean, please--I--so close," you moaned.

He smiled, enjoying the immense pleasure he was giving you just as much as you seemed to enjoy it. A few moments later, you were once again coming apart against his mouth and he eagerly lapped up everything you had to give him.

This time as you tugged on his hair and squirmed away, he obliged, lifting himself up from between your thighs. He licked his lips as he looked down at your blissed out face.

"You taste like heaven, baby," he murmured. "Wanna taste?"

Your pretty (y/e/c) eyes widened and you nodded hesitantly. He smiled wolfishly as he leaned down to kiss you, tongue invading your mouth almost instantly, allowing you to taste yourself.

You moaned into the kiss and he held you even more tightly, lips sealed to yours like he needed your air to breathe.

He wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to control his urges long enough to coax two orgasms from you, but he could feel that control waning. "I need you, baby," he whispered against your lips. "I need you so badly."

You looked up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. You lifted your hips to brush against his cock and he groaned at the contact. You nipped at his jaw and pulled him back down to you. "Fuck me, Dean. Please."

He groaned. "Yes ma'am."

He didn't hesitate as he gripped his cock firmly and lined it up with your entrance. He slipped inside easily, having plenty of lubrication to assist him. Despite having been inside of you multiple times at this point, he was still taken aback by how fucking incredible you felt.

"God, I love this pussy," he murmured. "She was made for me."

You moaned softly at his words and the feeling of him inside you once again. As he started to move, he was much more gentle and you found yourself enjoying the sensations--perhaps more than you should.

"You're so good for me, (Y/N)," Dean mumbled, already lost in the feeling of you.

You would have given anything to hear him say that, but the words broke your heart a little. Had he had any other choice, he likely wouldn't be here right now--you wouldn't be the one he was fucking.

"Hey," he whispered, a rough, calloused hand running along your cheek as he looked at you. "Where's that pretty little head at?"

You smiled at him. "Right here, Dean."

Somewhere inside of him, he knew you were lying, but the damn pollen was still affecting his senses. He accepted your response and went back to his actions, focusing on the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock like a vise.

He wanted to feel you cum one more time...wanted to feel the way you'd squeeze his cock as you came. He wanted to watch you come undone beneath him, lost in pleasure he gave you.

He grabbed a pillow and gently lifted your hips, sliding the pillow under them. This provided him a new, improved angle, allowing him to cage you beneath him and hit that sweet spot inside you.

"Dean!" you gasped as the first thrust hit your g-spot.

He grinned and picked up his pace, slamming into it repeatedly. Each thrust sent you closer to the edge of an orgasm you knew would ruin you. Dean Winchester already made you feel things no other man ever had and his ability in bed was no exception. Damn him.

His thrusts were firm and measured, each one sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through your body. The familiar tightening in your gut was so intense you thought you might actually explode.

Dean's strong arms were on either side of your head and he was looking down at you with that same strange expression from earlier. "You're so damn beautiful, baby. I wanna watch this pretty face as you cum for me."

You gasped, unprepared for the way his words made you feel. You felt emboldened, so you asked for what you needed. "I need more, Dean."

His hand slipped between your bodies, a single finger gently massaging your clit as he continued to fuck you. "That better, baby?"

You nodded rapidly, earning a soft chuckle from his sweet lips.

"You gonna cum for me beautiful?"

You nodded again.

"Yeah? I want you to keep those pretty eyes open when you cum, okay? Wanna see you fall apart."

"Dean..." you whispered.

"I know, sweet girl. I've got you."

Your brain seemed to short-circuit in that moment. All you could feel was a blinding hot pressure immediately followed by an intense euphoria. You heard someone scream "Dean!" and you belatedly realized it had been your voice.

The intensity of your orgasm sent Dean spiraling over the edge of his own. He hadn't even been prepared for it--the mixture of you screaming his name and the sensations of you squeezing him so tightly and the gorgeous way your face contorted as you came was all he needed.

He emptied into you a third and final time, his cock finally beginning to soften as he helped you ride out your high.

He pulled out and flopped down beside you on the bed, his body aching from what had to be some of the best sex of his life--sex pollen or not.

You were just as sore as Dean--probably more so given you literally couldn't move. The two of you laid there in silence, slowly coming down from the electrical highs you'd experienced, both trying to catch your breath for the first time in what felt like hours.

Dean was the first to recover. "Did I hurt you?" he asked so softly you almost didn't hear him.

You turned your head to look at him and your heart clenched at the expression on his face. He was genuinely worried, brows furrowed in concern. You contemplated lying to him, but you knew he'd see right through you.

"A little," you said honestly.

He winced and his beautiful eyes closed. "I'm so sorry, (Y/N)--I would never hurt you on purpose--ever."

You offered him a small smile he couldn't see, until your hand touched his cheek and he opened his eyes again. "I know."

There were a thousand other things you wanted to say--a thousand words you wanted to string together into just the right sentences, but you couldn't. You wouldn't put yourself through it.

"Shower?" he asked softly.

"I honestly don't think I can stand."

A smirk played on his lips. "That should not make me feel so damn good."

You laughed lightly, glad to hear the teasing tone in his voice that you loved so much.

He managed to pull himself into a sitting position. "It's not ideal, but there is a bathtub..." he trailed off.

"I wouldn't mind a bath," you admitted.

He nodded and got to his feet. He was a little unsteady at first, but managed to make his way to the bathroom. You heard the water running as he filled up the tub.

You laid there thinking about everything that had just happened. This was a position you'd never imagined you'd be in--with anyone, let alone Dean Winchester.

You knew this wasn't something you were going to be able to forget about, but you hoped things would go back to normal between the two of you and eventually this would just be a funny story.

Suddenly, Sam's words from earlier snapped into your mind. "If it's meaningless, one and done. If it's someone you care about...that's another story."

One and done...one and done. This most definitely had not been a 'one and done' scenario. But didn't that mean...? No. No way. Impossible. Dean Winchester does NOT have feelings for you.

You began to rationalize your thought process. Maybe "care about" included a friendly relationship. Yeah...yeah that made the most sense. Of course Dean cares about you. You're his best friend. There couldn't possibly be anything more to it...right?

As if on cue, Dean stepped back into the room. "Bath's ready."

"Okay." You tried to pull yourself up, but you immediately fell back against the mattress, body too worn out to sustain any kind of movement.

Dean chuckled lightly and came up to the side of the bed. He pulled the pillow out from under your hips and slipped his arms under your body, hoisting you up bridal style.

"Jesus!" you yelled. "Put me down! I'm too heavy--you'll throw out your back."

Dean laughed. "Calm down, (Y/N). I just threw you around this bed repeatedly with zero issues. I promise I can carry you to the bathroom without dying."

"But--"

He glared at you and tightened his grip on you as if to prove his point. "Ain't a damn thing wrong with your body, so shut it."

Your mouth closed immediately. His words sent a jolt directly to your core and you were almost annoyed by it. As if three orgasms wasn't enough...

Dean very gently set you on your feet in the bathroom and slowly helped you into the tub. As soon as he got you into a seated position, he got into the tub as well, slipping in behind you.

"Umm...whatcha doing?"

"Taking a bath."

"Isn't the tub a bit small for both of us?"

You could feel him shrug behind you. "I think it's perfect size. Now come here." He grabbed your shoulders and gently pulled you back so you were laying against his chest. "That's better," he muttered.

Your mind began to race once again as you laid there, body tense and uncomfortable.

"Okay, (Y/N), I know you better than anyone, so don't you dare lie to me. Where's your head at?"

"I--" you sighed. "I'm not really sure how to feel."

He nodded. "I know you didn't want this--I feel like I had to literally force myself onto you and I hate that. I know you only agreed so I wouldn't die, but--"

"Woah--stop." You sat up and turned your head to face him. "That's not true at all. You didn't force me to do anything."

"Okay, maybe 'force' is the wrong word...but you did have sex with me to save my life. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"I'm painfully aware," you muttered.

He ran his hand over his face. "I'm not saying any of this right."

"Then what are you trying to say?"

He bit his lip. "Remember what Sammy said? About...how long the effects would last?"

You nodded.

"Well in case you didn't notice, I had three orgasms."

"Both me and my very sore vagina noticed," you said lightly.

He sighed. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, (Y/N)?"

You turned a little more so you could see his face better. He had that same look he'd had when he was making you feel incredible. "I need to hear you say it..." you whispered.

He nodded and leaned forward so his face was mere inches from yours. "He didn't mean 'care' as in 'we're friends, so I care about you'...he meant 'care' as in 'love'."

Your lips parted and you inhaled sharply.

"So you see, I don't just care about you as a friend...and I don't just love you as a friend...I'm in love with you."

"You--you love me?"

"In love," he repeated. "For as long as I can remember."

"You're in love--with me?"

He chuckled softly. "Who else would I be talking to, baby? Yes, I'm in love with you."

"I--I don't know--" you stuttered.

"The only thing you need to know is how you feel. Do you know how you feel about me, (Y/N)?" he whispered.

You nodded slowly.

"And?"

"I'm in love with you too."

He grinned widely. "Yeah?"

You nodded, cheeks turning red.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you back against him. He looked down at you with that expression he'd been wearing and you suddenly realized what it was...it was love--real, true, beautiful, heart aching love.

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to your lips, which you returned in kind. He held you tightly, loving the feeling of your body in his arms.

"We better get cleaned up before this water gets cold," he said softly, lips pressing to your hair.

"Mhmm," you hummed.

He chuckled. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me, babe."

"But I'm comfortable," you whined.

He smiled against your cheek. "Give me five minutes to clean you up and then we can sleep, okay?"

You looked over at him and smiled. "Deal."

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[spn-incorrect-quotes]

Dean: You were stabbed. Do you remember anything?

Y/n: Only the ambulance ride to the hospital.

Dean: That wasn't an ambulance, I drove you.

Y/n: But I heard a siren.

Castiel: That was Sam.

Sam: Sorry, I got nervous.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

May i request a wild ride with no. 15, 20 and 21 for Dean winchester? Rest is up to you. thanks and congrats on 3k, your stories are awesome😘❤

He Fell Harder

Dean Winchester x plus size reader

Dean finally gets his chance to tell her  how he feels, after they escape a bunch of hungry ghouls of course

Warnings: canon level violence, kidnapping, mutual pining, implied smut, little bit of nudity, confessions

WC: 1.7k

Minors DNI

3000 Follower Celebration

Frustrated, you screamed at the solid iron door that sealed you into this hell-hole where you had been trapped for days or maybe it had been weeks, it was hard to tell. The walls surrounding you were cool to the touch. The smell of mould and mildew blanketing you as you slumped down to the concrete floor, consumed by the pitch black around you. You had no weapons, no plan, no escape. All you could do was sit here and wait for whatever the ghoul that jumped you had planned.

“Sweetheart?” The voice that floated through the vent far above your head sounded familiar, much like the voice of your best friend and the man you had been in love with since you saved him from a vamp three years ago.

“Dean?” You croaked, your head unconsciously tilting back as if it would allow you to hear him better. You hear him chuckle dryly, like he always did when he was anxious or unsure. Your heart fluttered, glad that you weren’t completely alone. “Boy am I glad to hear your dumb voice. How long have I been down here?”

There was a beat of silence. “You’ve been missing for almost two months.” He said bluntly and if you weren’t mistaken, with a tone of deep guilt. The air was knocked from your lungs.

“I’ve been here for that long?” You asked weakly, your body all of a sudden feeling incredibly tired and sore, like your willpower was ripped from you. Dean’s sigh carried through the humid air.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner sweetheart. These fuckers were smart, they even got the work-around Sammy.”

“And you?” You playfully asked, getting a groan in return. “How the fuck did some lousy ghouls get the jump on the great Dean Winchester?” The chill from the concrete wall at your back was slowly seeping through the measly layers you had on and yet you didn’t want to move away.

“I was distracted.” He replied simply and you could almost see the way his plump lower lip jutted out in a toddler-like pout. “It’s not my fault.”

You giggled half-heartedly as you brought your knees up to your chest. “Whatever could distract you must be pretty fucking magnificent.”

“Yeah she is.” He murmured lowly, but you heard him all the same. Your heart dropped to your stomach. You should’ve expected it, Dean was famous for his womanising, even going so far as to abandon a hunt for a night with a gorgeous woman. 

“Tell me about her.” You knew it would hurt, that listening to him talk about this mysterious woman would tear you apart, but you needed the comfort of his voice right now. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Well she’s insanely attractive. I mean just legs for days and an ass that would make a grown man cry. Don’t even get me started on how absolutely gorgeous her eyes are.” You scoffed at his crudeness but he only chuckled and continued. “But more than that, she’s crazy smart and she’s by far the kindest person I’ve ever met. She’s a little dumb, I mean who challenges me to a pie-eating contest! And even more than that, she’s my best friend and I would do anything for her, including getting kidnapped by a bunch of ghouls just so I could hear her voice again.”

With each word he spoke, the heat in the derelict dungeon seemed to grow. Warmth crawled up your neck, settling on the apple of your cheeks. “And right now, all I care about is how quiet she is after I just spilled my damn heart out to her.”

“Dean-“ You started but were quickly interrupted by the door to your cell slamming open and bright light flooding in. A shadowy figure loomed in the entryway, the stench of blood and rotting guts following them like some sick perfume. “Dean!” You screeched as you attempted to scramble to the furthest corner of the room. 

The light glinted off its teeth. “Oh the sweet smell of fear.” It cooed. “Makes the meat so much more tender.” 

There was a thudding from the wall. “Don’t you dare fucking touch her!” It just rolled its eyes at Dean’s protest. 

The uneven concrete cut into your palms as you planted your feet so you could jump the ghoul before it got too close. It smirked, as if it already knew you were too weak to do anything. “Y/N!” Your legs trembled as you put more of your weight on them, threatening to give out at any moment. 

The ghoul snarled. “He won’t be able to help you now.” It darted at you.

Feigning to the left, you narrowly missed its claws. The ghoul slammed painfully into the wall behind where you just were. There was a grizzly-sounding crunch and then a brief moment of silence. You attempted to stand but your knees buckled and you slammed back into the floor. But you couldn’t stop moving, not when it quickly righted itself and began towards you again. “You bitch!” It hissed.

As desperation sank into your bones, you began to crawl towards the open door. The muscles in your arms screamed but you had to get out. A hand closed around your ankle and tugged you backwards, sending you sprawling on the ground. “Get off!” You kicked back, but after months with limited food, it served to only push its jaw away from your leg. 

“Y/N!” Dean’s voice was muffled and far away, barely audible over the loud banging that reverberated through the halls, or was it your head? It was hard to tell. Weakly, you clawed for anything you could use as a weapon, the ghoul steadily getting dangerously close to you. 

Your vision spun as you were suddenly on your back, the ghoul hovering above you. “I think I’m going to make this last. Eat you nice and slow, make your boyfriend listen to every scream that comes out of that stupid mouth of yours. And then, right as you’re about to die from either the pain or the blood-loss, I’ll bring him over so he can watch as the light fades from your eyes.”

Its face got closer and closer, and then, it was gone. The weight was yanked from your chest with a blur of red and black plaid, the ghoul’s screeching making your head throb. There was the sound of cracking bones, and then nothing.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” You hadn’t realised that you passed out until you opened your eyes. Cringing at the bright light above you, you groaned and buried your face in your soft arms.

“Too bright.” 

“Shit, yeah, just one sec.” The light flicked off and you breathed a sigh of relief. Now that it was darker, you felt more confident in opening your eyes once more. The sight you were greeted with was one that you were used to- the shitty decorations, dusty mattress below and couch that should have been torched 20 years ago. You were safe.

“How’d you get us out? Wait how the fuck am I even alive? I was sure that I was toast.” Dean appeared in your eye-line then as he plopped down on the bed beside you. His green eyes were bloodshot and he had dark bags beneath them.

“If we’re being honest, I don’t really remember. I remember you screaming and then I was pounding on the door trying to get to you and somehow it just caved in. The last thing I remember is beating that fucker’s face in.” Your eyebrows scrunched.

“Dean, there was a whole pack of them. There’s no way you killed all of them while also having to drag me out of there.” He scoffed and laid down next to you, taking your hand into his own.

“I don’t know what to tell you sweetheart. But we’re out and you’re safe, that’s the only thing that matters.” Your fingers intertwined and you pulled his hand to your chest. 

“Your safety matters too D.” He shook his head, his dirty blond hair now sticking up messily. He squeezed your fingers.

“Not when it comes to you.” Dean’s eyes flicked to your lips. “I would do anything to keep you safe.” 

The tip of your nose brushed against his as his free hand came up to cup your full cheek. “You’re my everything.” And then he kissed you.

Slow and sweet, barely even a peck but as you tried to pull him closer to you, desperate for him, Dean rolled on top of you. His strong body fit beautifully between your plush thighs, his weight on top of you being a comfort rather than the terror from the ghoul’s. Your arms wound around his neck as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss even more.

“Dean.” You moaned into his mouth as the hand that was once holding yours now rested on your wide hip, pinning you to him. He groaned at the strung-out sound of your voice. 

“Fuck baby. Can I see you?” You nodded but still whined as he pulled away from you. He smirked confidently. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m right here.” His touch skirted beneath your skirt, sending ripples of anticipation through you. The fabric followed his rough hands, slowly creeping up, exposing your body to him in a way that you had both only dreamed about.

Dean sucked in a breath as he finally pulled the shirt from you, leaving you in just a bra. “Holy shit you’re gorgeous.” You smiled bashfully in return.

“Your turn.” Moving faster than you’ve ever seen, Dean ripped all of his layers off in one go, throwing the small pile of fabrics over his shoulder like they had burned him. “Damn Winchester, how have you been hiding all this from me for so long?” Your fingers traced up the softness of his belly, coming to rest above his heart, right where his tattoo was.

“Believe me sweetheart, if it were up to me, you could’ve seen this two years ago.” He reached for your jeans, unbuttoning them quickly so he could shuck them down your shapely legs.

“Two years!” You yelped, “We’ve known each other for three!” He looked away sheepishly, focusing on the panties that still covered you. 

“Not my fault. You were goddamn terrifying.” You scoffed as he settled between your legs, throwing them over his broad shoulders.

“Yeah well you’re just scared of powerful women. Let me tell you-“

“Sweetheart, sweetheart. Will you just shut up and let me go down on you?” He pleaded, tugging at the cotton that stretched across your pelvis. 

Your mouth snapped shut. “Good, now let me eat.”

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A Collapsible Crutch Christmas

Title: A Collapsible Crutch Christmas

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Canonical violence, broken bone and pain from moving a broken bone, vomiting, passing out, mentions of splinting a broken bone, snowstorm, angst with a fluffy ending

Square/Trope Filled: Blizzard (SPN Christmas Bingo) and Rescue Mission (25 Days of Tropes)

Summary: On a solo hunt, you find yourself not only nursing a major injury, but snowed into a cabin on Christmas.

A/N: This is a submission for the 2022 SPN Christmas Bingo (@spnchristmasbingo​)and fulfills a trope on my 25 Days of Tropes list! It is more angsty than my other Christmas fics, but I hope you all enjoy (even though it’s after the holidays). Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

25 Days of Tropes Masterlist

Highway 75 twisted through miles of deep forest, making it and the cabins nearby a picturesque location for honeymooning couples, college students on summer road trips, and families looking to unplug. It also made it perfect for wendigos and a handful of other creatures that liked to prey on the unsuspecting.

Snow crunched underneath your boots as you trekked away from the highway, heading for the log cabin you knew was a few miles in. The public trails all led in the opposite direction, but this was the shortest route and it would give you a chance to check out the area without worrying about civilians. Your backpack was full of nonperishable food and extra layers of clothing, along with your usual hunting supplies. You knew that Sam had slipped in an extra charger for your phone, along with batteries for the flashlight, and Dean had packed an extra knife somewhere in your bag. They always worried about you, despite the fact that you’d been hunting almost as long as they had. It wasn’t your first time going on a solo case, but the eeriness of the silent, winter woods made you wish that you’d taken Dean up on his offer to come with.

Behind you, the sun had sunk low on the horizon, casting shadows that stretched far across the ground. You shivered and zipped your coat up a little further, then pulled the maglight out of your pocket. It turned on with a click that felt far louder than necessary and you looked around.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Something was wrong. You slowed, then stopped and turned in a circle, shining the flashlight in every direction. The light glanced off the trees and made the snow on the ground almost blindingly white, but there were no monsters to be seen and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You knew better, though. Your instincts were fine tuned after years of hunting, and when your gut told you something was wrong, you needed to listen.

You slipped your gun out of the thigh holster and clicked off the safety. After a moment, you began walking again, heading toward the cabin with a slightly faster pace. Your heart pounded in your chest and you stayed on high alert, all while trying not to trip over your boots or the bumpy forest floor hidden under the fresh powder. A cold wind blew through the trees, cutting through your clothing like a knife and making you curse under your breath. The first thing you’d have to do once you got to the cabin is start a fire to warm up, then eat. Your stomach had been growling ever since you’d parked in the public lot near the trailheads.

When the cabin was finally visible in the distance, you relaxed a little. As soon as you did, however, something grabbed your pack and yanked you backwards, sending you flying to the ground. Your flashlight flew out of your hand, its beam shining off to your right. You yelped, then lifted your gun and fired off two shots at the hulking beast above you. Its pale limbs blended into the snowy landscape, and it was only the weak light from the winter sunset that allowed you to see its face. 

You’d read up on the news reports before leaving the bunker. You, Sam, and Dean had all agreed that it was a single wendigo that was taking out the hikers and photographers who’d braved the weather to take pictures of the trees covered with snow and ice. The reports had all been consistently spread out several weeks apart for over a decade, but it had been almost three months since the last one. You’d been skeptical that this was even a case worthy of your attention—after all, another hunter could have easily offed the monster without your knowledge—but Sam had been certain that the wendigo was still out there.

Now, as the monster growled at you from above, you realized that Sam had been right. The weather had been so bad that the trails had been closed for two months now, which meant that not only were you dealing with an incredibly strong wendigo, but you were dealing with a very hungry one, too. There hadn’t been anyone for it to hunt, and now you were its main target.

You cursed and righted yourself, scrambling to your feet and moving as far away from the wendigo as you could. A flare gun was in your other thigh holster and you quickly pulled it out, but before you could shoot, the creature disappeared. The woods fell deathly silent again and you tried not to breathe so loudly as you listened for any sign of the wendigo.

Slowly, you turned in a circle, surveying the quickly darkening forest. The sun was almost completely below the horizon and the flashlight had flickered off. The only light visible was the outdoor safety light by the cabin door a quarter mile away.

You stayed silent as you carefully made your way toward the cabin again, this time with your handgun in one hand and the flare gun in the other. When you were only a few hundred feet from the rickety cabin porch, the wendigo grabbed at your arm. It yanked you to the right and your handgun went flying. It discharged once, sending a bullet into a nearby tree, then disappeared in the shadows and snow. The wendigo’s claws tore through your coat like butter. Immediately, the cold slipped in through your layers and a shiver ran down your spine, but the adrenaline making your heart pound would quickly negate its effects.

You struggled against its grip. When it became clear that there would be no escaping the hungry monster’s grasp, you twisted as much as possible to get the flare gun into your dominant hand so you could shoot with better aim. It took a few tries before you were able to grab it and get your finger onto the trigger. You had one shot, and though your heart thundered in your chest and every part of your brain was screaming at you to fight and get away, you took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself so you could focus. 

The trigger moved smoothly under your finger. You pulled and seconds felt like hours. You held your breath, listening as the flare lodged itself in the wendigo’s chest. It screeched and threw you away from itself, sending you flying through the air and into a fallen tree. Even over the creature’s horrific screams you heard the snap of your leg breaking upon impact. The snow did nothing to cushion your fall. You screamed too, your own cry mixing with the wendigo’s as it burned to ashes in the darkness of the forest.

All around you, the temperature continued to drop and snow began to fall. You clutched your thigh as sobs ripped through you, making your throat more and more hoarse with each passing minute. The pain shooting up your leg was unbearable every time you tried to move, and though you’d had worse injuries, you’d never had to face them alone.

Finally, rationality kicked in and you realized you had to get inside the cabin before hypothermia set in. The snow grew worse by the minute, and you vaguely remembered the radio host mentioning a blizzard coming down from the north. If you weren’t inside soon, you could freeze to death and nobody would find you for days. Getting to the cabin was your only hope of survival, no matter how painful it would be.

You groped around in the snow, digging through the heavy, wet powder until you were able to find one of the fallen tree’s branches. With the last bits of adrenaline still rushing through your veins, you pulled on it until it snapped off. It emerged from the snow with another firm tug, and then you were able to use it to push yourself up off the ground. The branch was long enough for you to use as a crutch if you hunched over. You just had to hope it would make it all the way to the cabin’s door.

The pain as you dragged yourself from where the wendigo had left you to the cabin porch was excruciating. Every survival instinct you had kicked in and you had to fight against yourself just to keep going. 

“Come on, come on, open!” you screeched. You banged on the front door with your fist, being mindful to keep your weight on your good leg and keep yourself propped against the cracked wooden doorframe. Your makeshift crutch had fallen down beside you, but you left it alone—you wouldn’t need it until you got this door open.

The door swung open into the cabin with one last heavy shove. You almost fell through into the living room when it did. Snow blew in as you stumbled inside, tripping over the threshold with a shout, and grabbed onto the back of the couch a few feet inside the door. Thankfully, you managed to avoid much impact on your broken leg, but you still had to stop for a minute and gasp for air as the snow continued to blow into the cabin from the open door behind you. Black spots danced in your vision as you held onto the couch with a white-knuckled grip, trying to catch your breath.

When you finally managed to summon the energy to stand upright again, you pivoted on one foot to reach back and grab the makeshift crutch you’d left on the porch. You shook off the snow before pulling it inside, then locked the door and hobbled around to the front of the couch, using the crutch to support you most of the way. The fireplace was barren, not even ashes had been left behind by the previous occupants, but you were able to lower yourself to the floor between it and the couch. A stack of locks had been pushed up against the wall and you sent your silent thanks to whoever had had the forethought to stock it for the next guest.

Slowly but surely, the warmth of the fire filled the cabin, and the light from the flames allowed you to get a better look around. The lamp nearby hadn’t turned on when you’d tried, leaving you to believe that either the power had gone out or there was a problem with the generator. Either way, you weren’t in any shape to investigate, so the fire would have to do.

Your energy was slowly being sapped away by all the movement, but you needed to splint your leg and figure out if there was anything other triaging you could do before you passed out. After taking a few deep breaths, you braced yourself with one hand on the couch cushions and pushed yourself up. You wobbled on your good leg for a second, then grabbed your crutch and headed for the bathroom you’d noticed on your way in. A first aid kit had been wedged in the cabinet under the sink, and with it safely in hand, you limped back to your spot on the floor.

You collapsed onto the now snow-soaked rug, heaving as bile rose up in your throat. The pain worsened with every movement you made, and having to get up to get the first aid kit had taken an extreme toll on you.

Over the next few hours, you drifted in and out of consciousness as you put your leg into a splint and tried to fix your injuries as best as you could until you could call for help. The blizzard raged outside, and each time you came to, you stoked the fire, threw up beside you, and tried to triage as best as you could before passing out again. At some point, you managed to peel off the holsters on both legs, lamenting the loss of your weapons. You hoped that they wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.

A gust of cold wind coming in through the open door made your fire sputter, almost going out, and a shiver ran through your body before you could stop it. You groaned at the sharp knife of pain that went up your leg, then your hip and back.

“Shit! Sam, she’s hurt!”

Dean’s voice made you open your eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of his face as he hovered over you. He cupped your cheek in his hand but you whined and shied away at the chill of his gloves met your heated skin.

“How long has she been here?” Sam asked.

The door slammed closed and the howling of the blizzard grew muffled again. Beside you, there was a heavy thud. The wood floor of the cabin shook beneath you as Sam and Dean hurried around. Someone shifted your leg on the rug and you cried out. Your eyes flew open and Dean was immediately above you, his eyes frantically trying to meet yours. He grabbed your hands before you could do any harm to him or Sam.

“Hey, hey, Y/N. Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’re just fixing your splint a little bit and tryin’ to figure out what happened. Can you talk to me?” 

You recognized that tone of voice—Dean was panicking, but he was trying not to show it. Something inside of you reminded you that he was mostly panicking because he didn’t know what had happened and that the wendigo was really gone. His anxiety wasn’t a sign that your leg was worse than you’d originally diagnosed.

It took you a moment, but you managed to croak out an answer. “It threw me,” you rasped. You licked your lips and swallowed against the sandpaper feeling in your mouth. “But it’s dead.”

He nodded and forced a small smile. His eyes were glossy, and in your pain-riddled mind, you knew that you didn’t want him to be.

“I’m okay,” you told him, and you tried to force a smile as well, but in reality, it was probably more of a weak grimace. “I think it’s just broken.”

Dean nodded again. “Okay. Okay. Sam’s gonna check it out. Did you take any painkillers?”

When you shook your head, he looked over his shoulder, then reached out and took the white bottle from his brother. With one hand, you tried to sit up without jostling your leg too much, but after throwing up so many times from the pain and the injury itself, you were weak. Dean noticed immediately, of course, and quickly ditched the bottle of pills to help you.

“Water?” you asked.

Sam was there immediately, holding out a bottle for you. You took it and he went back to searching through the first aid kit. Dean shook out a couple pills and passed them to you once you had the cap unscrewed on the bottle. You closed your eyes as you drank, panting against the open mouth of the bottle after a long drink, and when you opened them again, Dean had a bottle of whiskey in hand.

He smiled a little at your confused expression, then held up a packet of crackers you recognized from when you’d packed your bag. Behind him, Sam mumbled something and Dean shifted, moving from beside you to sit behind you so you could lean against his chest. He pulled you back against him and situated his legs on either side of you.

“Sam’s gonna fix your splint a little bit more so that when we travel back to the road, it’s a bit easier for you. Take a drink,” he instructed. 

You took the whiskey when he held it out to you from behind, lifting it to your lips and taking a long swig. The drink burned on the way down and you winced, shuddering slightly, and Dean chuckled. You felt it against your back when his chest rumbled with laughter. Relief flooded you when the realization hit you that things would be okay now. Sam and Dean were here—you weren’t alone.

Dean rubbed his hand over the thigh on your good leg and you leaned back against him a little more, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. You closed your eyes, wincing and grunting as Sam adjusted the split. Dean’s other hand found yours and you squeezed it hard.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

You nodded. “Mmhmm. Keep talking?”

“We hadn’t heard from you, so we came looking.”

“In the—” You hissed in pain, your whole body tensing and your hand squeezing Dean’s even harder as Sam profusely apologized from where he bent over your injured leg. “In the middle of a blizzard?”

“It’s not so bad now,” Dean said. His voice was soft and low in your ear, and he paused to kiss the side of your head. “We borrowed some snowmobiles from the ranger station a few miles away. I’m surprised none of them came out here to check the cabins.”

You hummed, trying to focus on his voice and the warmth of the whiskey instead of the pain coursing through your body. The painkillers would be kicking in soon, but until then, you had to ignore the churning of your stomach and the pain trying to push you back into unconsciousness.

“I missed you so much. I was worried about you, and it’s Christmas Eve. We didn’t want to celebrate without you.”

If it was Christmas Eve, you’d been lying on the floor of the cabin for almost a full day. There was no light coming in from the windows of the living room; you’d been so out of it that you hadn’t even realized when the sun had been up, unless the snow from the storm had blocked it out entirely.

“It would’ve been okay,” you groaned. “We would’ve celebrated later.”

Reaching one arm around you, Dean pulled you back against him, holding you down as your reflexes tried to move you away from Sam as he worked. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as your back arched against the pain.

“No, it wouldn’t have. Last year was our first Christmas together, but we got held up with that Crowley thing, so I didn’t get to celebrate properly with you. I wanted to be with you this year. I wasn’t gonna let a little snow stop me,” he said.

You laughed, a bit of a groan slipping through as you grit your teeth together and tried to stay still. “A little snow, huh?”

“A little snow,” Dean repeated, chuckling. “He’s almost done, sweetheart, and then we’re gonna get out of here.”

Sam spoke up as he tightened the split, and you forced your eyes open to look at him.

“We can’t leave now, Dean,” Sam said, and Dean shifted behind you. “Y/N needs to rest and hydrate. She probably needs to eat something, too.”

Your stomach churned again and you swallowed down the bile. “Don’t talk about food. Please.”

As Sam worked, Dean continued to comfort you and hold you, until finally, they would be able to move you. The painkillers had kicked in and once they moved you to the queen-sized bed in the only bedroom, you were able to relax for the first time in days. You refused the crackers when your stomach flipped at the sight of them, but Dean left them within reach of your spot on the mattress in case you woke up hungry. 

Sam stoked the small fireplace opposite the bed while Dean arranged the blankets and pillows for you, and as he moved, you caught a glimpse of the time on his watch.

“Dean,” you said, grabbing his hand as it moved past. “Dean, hey.”

He paused, looking down at you. When he saw you smiling at him, he chuckled and smiled back, then took his other hand to brush the hair off your sweaty forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

You nodded. “I’m good. Those painkillers really helped,” you told him, laughing a little. He laughed again and carefully took a knee beside the bed so he was closer to eye level with you. “But guess what?”

“Are you going to say chicken butt again?” he asked, and you grinned a little wider.

“No. Merry Christmas.”

A little v-shaped wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows as he lifted his other hand to check his watch, and then he smiled again.

“12:03,” he read aloud. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Drowsiness was creeping up on you, aided by the warmth of the blankets and the fire, and Dean seemed to sense it. He reached out again and ran a hand over your hair. His expression softened and the firelight made his eyes sparkle a little. 

At some point, Sam had left the room, so when Dean leaned in to kiss you, you reached up to keep him close. Compared to other kisses, it didn’t even rank in terms of intensity, but you knew you’d remember this one for a long time. He braced one hand on the mattress and lifted himself up to lean just slightly over you, and you shifted to the side to kiss him better. His other hand slid up from your cheek to tangle into your hand for just a moment before he pulled away. You kept him close, one hand gripping the slightly damp fabric of his jacket. After a moment, you opened your eyes, but you had to blink a few times to focus on his face.

Dean smiled, chuckling slightly before pressing a second kiss to your forehead. “I love you. Get some rest, okay? I’ll come check on you in a few hours,” he murmured.

You whined and gripped his jacket a little tighter. “No, stay.”

He pried your fingers from the lapel. “Sam and I have a couple things to take care of. I promise I’ll be back.”

Nodding, you relaxed back against the pillows and released him fully. You kept smiling even as he exited the room, then closed your eyes. It felt like only moments had passed when you opened them again, but sunlight was peeking through from behind the curtains. The fire still crackled, though the stack of logs beside it had gone down, meaning that Dean had kept his promise to check on you throughout the night.

Groaning, you shifted yourself to sit up a little bit more in the bed. “Dean?” you called. “Sam?”

Silence answered you and panic fluttered in your chest for a brief moment. You were about to call again when the door swung open and Dean stepped inside, smiling. He quickly shut the door behind him.

“Hey, how you feelin’?” he asked.

You smiled a little, still fighting against sleep, and yawned. “Still not great, but better than before. Are we going home today?”

He nodded and came toward the bed. “Hospital first, then home, but uh… There’s something else we have to do first.”

Smile fading, you helped Dean move the blankets off your legs, then accepted the water bottle and pills he’d set out on the bedside table while you’d been asleep.

“Is everything okay? Was there another disappearance?”

His eyes grew wide and he carefully pushed you down by the shoulder when you started to sit up even further. “No. Hey, no. Everything’s fine, Y/N. You got it. It’s dead. Relax for a second.”

“Then what do we have to do?”

Dean didn’t answer, but Sam knocked and stuck his head in the door. “She ready?” he asked. When Dean nodded, Sam opened the door the rest of the way and held out a pair of crutches.

You propped yourself up on both hands, looking between them with a smile. “Where did you even find those?”

They handed them off to you and Dean helped you carefully pivot on the bed, then stand, using the crutches to support your weight. Sam had fixed the splint well enough that you were able to follow the two of them out into the living room of the cabin.

“What— What is all this?”

An evergreen tree had been propped up in one corner. Pinecones and balls of tinfoil had been used in place of ornaments and there were stockings hung on the mantle of the fireplace. The fire crackled, warming the entire room and from where you stood, you could spy three bowls of soup and mugs of hot chocolate set out on the coffee table you’d originally shoved out of the way.

You laughed, at a loss for words. “What—? How?”

Dean led you over to the couch and helped you settle in the middle, smiling wide. “We brought the stockings and the presents—”

“The presents?” you asked, gaping at him.

Sam laughed and set a few wrapped packages beside you. You glanced at them, looked up at him, and then over at Dean again.

“The soup and hot chocolate was in your bag and the dishes were in the cabinets,” Sam explained. “The crutches were part of an emergency kit loaded onto the snowmobiles. They’re collapsible ones, but they’re better than that stick you had when we showed up.”

The couch dipped as Dean sat on the other side of you, and the packages slid down against your leg. He set his hand on your thigh, smiling.

“I know it’s not a real Christmas with lights and a fancy dinner, but I was thinking that it was better than nothing,” 

Smiling, you reached up to cup his face with one hand, keeping his gaze on you. “It’s perfect,” you told him. “I love it.”

You kissed him, just as gently as the night before, and brushed your thumb over his cheekbone. He squeezed your thigh in return.

Thank you for reading! <3

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[stardust-goddess]

Masterlist

My collection of stories so far. Right now I only write for Dean Winchester.

Dean x Reader:

✨Effort

✨The Dress

✨Happy Birthday Baby

✨Covid Sucks

[hauntedwitch04]

Little one

Sam Winchester x reader

Words: about 3.9k words

Warnings: smut, smut, I forgot to say smut, DESTIEL BECAUSE I LOVE THEM, dirty talk

Author’s note: Hi loves! I finally managed to write some more after the crazy week I had. Hope you like it, your witch Becky

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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 5: Size kink

"Hey little one do you need a hand?" You hear Sam ask, hearing in his tone of voice that silly little sly smile you hate so much. You huff as still with your back turned you don't even turn to look at him, knowing you couldn't help but melt under the gaze of his green eyes. You feel him coming up behind you, his chest brushing against your back as you see his hand reach for the book you've been reaching for for more than ten minutes. His presence behind you almost makes your knees give way.

The two of you have been playing this game for weeks now, provoking the other but at the same time neither of you seems to have the courage to take matters into their own hands and drag the other into your bedroom. A few days ago Sam realized how sensitive you are to the size difference between the two of you. You have never considered yourself short, you have always been average, but next to him you look little more than a smurf. He is literally a giant, and that doesn't mean he is merely tall, but because of the life you lead he has developed a lot of muscles in his arms and chest, as well as perfect abs, and that makes him imposing, and fuck if that isn't attractive. You get lost in thinking what it must be like to be under him, enclosed between his warm body and his bed, but almost immediately you are interrupted by a cough behind you. You turn and see him with a raised eyebrow looking at you amused. Now the two of you are face to face, or rather you have your face at his chest level, and in fact you have to look up to stare into his eyes.

The man in front of you seems to be quite amused by this, in fact he leans forward a little, thinking you would move for that movement, and instead you stand still, not showing weakness.

"Careful little one your neck will hurt if you keep holding it like that. Maybe we should buy a stepladder at least you'd be able to look me in the eye without any trouble." Says Sam, a breath away from your lips.

"You giant asshole, I swear I'll cut your balls off if-" You start to threaten him, but you are interrupted by a new voice. Castiel has just entered the room and is looking at you with a questioning expression before shouting.

"Dean they are doing it again." He says to the other hunter who immediately responds to the angel, threatening you as well.

"Home run before you see things you don't want to see. And you two stop circling around the fact that you want to fuck. There's too much sexual tension in the air and no one can take it anymore. You better find a solution or I swear I'll have the next witch I meet charm you." Says the brother of the man in front of you, from the kitchen, making both you and Sammy blush.

"Fuck you Dean." Sam manages to say, not looking you in the eye. Immediately you turn away from each other, going in different directions.

You arrive in your room, close the door, and lean against it as you take a breath of relief.

You can't deny that there is not that sexual tension between the two of you that Dean accuses you of, but at the same time you don't have the courage to take that extra step for fear of being rejected because treacherously you think Sam intends all that as a kind of game between the two of you, but nothing more. You stay for a moment thinking again about the feeling of his body so big and muscular against yours. You felt so small and helpless, and yet you were not afraid, in fact all your brain could process were rather spicy situations with the youngest of the Winchesters. Then suddenly you violently detach yourself from the door, as your mind was again training itself in those overly specific thoughts of what it would be like to be fucked by Sam, placed on all fours on his bed, while he on top of you, with his chest pressed against your back, holding the bed keyboard with one strong hand to make stronger, firmer thrusts. You get lost in thinking about what it must feel like to have his kisses on your bare back with the light beard he has, what one of his strong hands gripping one of your hips must feel like, or his cock pushing in. You decide it's time for a cold shower at the very moment you're left thinking about whether the size of his member is directly proportional to everything else, hoping that at least that might bring you back to your senses a little.

You've never been much of a person who likes to go to parties, but you certainly can't say no to a nice evening with your favorite people spent drinking and singing your favorite songs. By now it is very late and both Dean and Cas have gone to bed, no matter how much the last one doesn't sleep, but by now since they had declared themselves to each other they had created a routine, thanks to which the oldest of the Winchesters is finally able to sleep without nightmares. You are happy forni your friends, they both deserve the small portion of happiness that fate has reserved for them, and on the contrary you wish they had fi more. Since they've gone to bed, though, you and Sam are left alone, with more than ample amount of alcohol in your system, which is a bit dangerous considering the thoughts some days that led you to take a shower so cold that even penguins would beat their beaks for cold.

You and young Winchester spent those days avoiding each other, and when you couldn't, all you could do was avoid each other's gaze and not blush.

You remain silent again, enjoying that peace to which you are not very accustomed. You are sitting side by side, and you can't help but slowly move closer to his body, attracted by the warmth it produces.

It seems like hours go by, and maybe it's only a few minutes, but eventually he interrupts that state of stillness.

"Can I ask you a question?" Sammy asks, turning toward you, and you can't help but be a little annoyed by his question, but you nod as you down some more alcohol. He seems to consider what words to use.

"Have you ever thought of anything more than this between us?" The man asks, looking you in the eye. You pause with your glass in midair, petrified by that question. For a moment it crosses your mind that he has figured out how you feel about him, but then you look at him and see him waiting for your answer and realize that he is really only asking you out of pure curiosity.

"Why did you think of that?" You ask in turn defensively. You see him hesitate for a moment as you did a few seconds earlier, but eventually he flashes you a smile, regaining all the resourcefulness he has shown in this last period.

"Oh little one, I'm afraid I'd scare you if I told you all the things I've been thinking about doing with you." He says in a rough, sensual voice, and you immediately feel a shiver go down your spine. You feel him move closer to you, while you remain still, afraid that if you moved even a finger, this whole situation would vanish like a soap bubble. You think more than once that all this is a dream produced by the alcohol in your system, then you feel his lips on your neck and realize that it is all true.

"Well you could show me a couple of things you've imagined doing with me, and I'll tell you if they're the same things I've thought of." I say in a whisper, as he continues to nibble on my neck, leaving sweet kisses at times.

"You're going to fucking kill me sooner or later." Sam comments before standing up, and with a smooth, quick movement, hoisting me onto his shoulder. I let out a soft yelp, before starting to bombard him with threats and questions.

"Sam Winchester, let me go now! Where are you taking me?" I ask, trying not to give away that just that simple gesture that showcased his strength and how much bigger he was physically than you was turning you on.

"In the room, unless you want to be fucked here where anyone could walk in at any moment. I didn't take you for that kind of person, but we could always try it another time." He says chuckling, while you in response punch him lightly in the back. "Besides, from here I have a first-class view of your ass." He continues nonchalantly, and you can't help but blush.

"Sam!" You take him back, but he immediately doesn't give you time to continue.

"Little one, don't be an angel, because we both know how many times you've thought about doing dirty things with me, and you can't even lie because it was all over your face." Notices Sam, scolding you as one scolds a child who has eaten too much candy.

"Like you had a marble mask on, and you couldn't see all the times you looked at my boobs." You comment, as you try to figure out by now where you are, but the corridors of the bunker are all dark and you can't quite get your bearings.

"It's not my fault you have particularly nice tits." He replies, as if it were a given, and you can't help but laugh at the situation. Your laughter is interrupted, however, when Sam throws you onto what you recognize to be his bed.

The playful air that had been created disappears in an instant and gives way to a new tension, steeped in passion and mischief. The youngest Winchester slides all the way down your body until his plump lips are inches from yours. The feel of his body, so large compared to yours, is even better than you had imagined. He spends a few seconds teasing you, kissing all over your face and the area near your mouth, but he doesn't touch your lips a single time, until you slip your hands into his hair and force him to do so. He smiles against your lips, and when you pull away to get some air, he teases you.

"Someone is a little impatient, what can't you wait to feel my cock inside you anymore?" He asks rhetorically, while his hands begin working to remove the several layers of clothes you are wearing.

"All promises Winchester, it's time to keep them." You say, trying to answer him again in kind as pleasure begins to work its way through you.

"You'll regret this shamelessness little one, another time, not today, but next time I won't be as good to you as I will be this time."

Quickly he removes the few clothes you have on while you do the same to him, a little groggy from pleasure and a little from alcohol.

He kisses your neck, leaving red, biting marks as he slowly moves down to your breasts, to remove the bra you still have on. He takes one of your nipples in his teeth, while the other teases it with his hand.

Once he is done torturing your breasts, he goes down to your navel with his kisses and then gently bites your panties. A shiver runs through you again as you feel his lips graze the skin of your legs, while he stares into your eyes and pulls them off with such slowness that you feel faint before long at how hard your heart is beating.

"You better get moving Winchester." You try to threaten him, once he completely peels off the penultimate layer of clothing that stood between you and him, since he still has his boxers on.

"Or what small thing? I don't think you're in a position to threaten me." He comments amused, before returning to your center, and leaving sweet kisses all around in your inner thigh. You can't help but sigh as you slip a hand into his soft, long hair, trying to take him where you most desire.

"Fuck you." That's all you can say in response, and he can't help but laugh. Eventually Sam lets you guide him where you want him, and finally his lips meet those of your pussy. You can't help but let out a moan mixed with a scream as the man squeezes your clit between his teeth as he had done with your nipples earlier. With his tongue he continues to lick you, slowly increasing the pleasure.

Suasult when you also feel his fingers join in the torture, as he rhythmically works them into you. His fingers are long and big, enough to reach all the right places, and make you wriggle between the covers of the now unmade bed, making you clutch the sheet so tight you thought it would tear.

Eventually, faster than it had ever happened to you, you feel the orgasm coming, with the impetuosity of a wave ready to sweep whatever it meets in its path.

"Sam- fuck- please don't stop." You beg him, as you continue to move your hips under his mouth to create more friction.

"Oh my little one is cumming?" He asks, pulling away from you slightly.

"Sam, please." You beg him again as you run a hand through his hair again, and he can't help but moan as you do so.

He doesn't respond to you, but his actions speak for themselves as he again begins to lick your center as he speeds his fingers entering your pussy. A few minutes pass and you finally reach orgasm, and for a second you think you lose contact with the whole world. All you hear in your ears is blood pulsing, your eyes narrowed as your lips hold back a scream, while your hands continue to cling tightly to Sam's hair. Once you regain your breath and some clarity you stop and look at Sammy who is now looking at you seriously. Around your mouth you can still see the remnants of the otherworldly experience you just had.

"Are you okay?" He asks you as he licks his lips.

"Never felt better." You answer, as you signal for him to come up. He complies and comes with his face at the same height as yours. You kiss him softly, and he can't help but do the same. It is very different from the kiss you shared earlier, passionate and impetuous, but no less sensual and beautiful. Then suddenly you take him by surprise and reverse the situation by finding yourself on top of him.

"Now it's my turn to torture you a little." You whisper in his ear before moving down to his boxers. You slip them off him the same way he took off your underwear, which is with your teeth, and you hear him cursing as you brush against his now very obvious erection. Then unable to hold back you take his member with your hands, and like everything in your body it seems to be huge compared to you, but in this case you don't really know if it is your point of view or is objective. You tease his entire length with your tongue, before starting to suck lightly at the tip, while moving your hand along everything else you don't touch. Immediately his hand, almost as big as your head, gets stuck in your hair and begins to send you further and further down, at the pace he likes best. That's how Sam begins to fuck your mouth, at first slower, going steadily increasing, so that the last thrusts you feel his cock coming down your throat, and you can't help but get aroused when you feel the air miss you. He continues this game for a few minutes, until with a series of moans where he screams your name he doesn't cum in your mouth, and you swallow everything he gives you.

"That's my girl." Sammy comments as he catches his breath, but you see a spark in his eyes that tells you you're not even close to the end.

"So far we've been playing, now comes the main course." He continues, as again he reverses the situation, bringing you under him. You feel one of your thighs open, and with his knee he stimulates your pussy. Immediately you let out a scream that he silences with his lips. You begin to kiss more and more passionately as you feel him driving his cock in front of your entrance. The moment he is about to push in for the first time, you stop him by asking him a question?

"Are you sure it fits?" You ask slightly frightened by his size, and excited at the same time. He looks at you and chuckles a little, throwing his head into the crook of your neck.

"It's just that I've never had anyone so ...great, it's no laughing matter Winchester!" You continue, chuckling in turn. He kisses you gently on the nose before answering you.

"I promise in case it does you, you'll just have to tell me and we'll stop right away, okay?" He asks seriously, watching you as he moves a strand of hair away from your face. "Besides, I think the orgasm has prepared you well honey." He finishes by winking at you. He kisses you again but this one more gently, trying to distract you. You feel him enter you, and for a moment you think you have died and are in your own little piece of heaven.

"Are you okay little one?" Sam asks seeing your closed eyes and clenched fists holding the pillow.

"Oh God, Winchester you better move your ass and fuck me before I come at this exact moment." You whisper, as you release one hand to bring him to you and kiss him. You feel him begin to thrust in and out of you, picking up a rather fast pace as he stimulates one of your breasts with one hand and his lips are busy making more marks on your neck, lest he cry out your name in pleasure. You are not much better off, so much so that at one point you feel an iron taste of blood in your mouth from how much you bit your lips to keep Cas and Dean from hearing you. You keep moving in unison, seeking pure pleasure.

"God baby, you are so perfect. You don't know how much I've dreamed of having you under me, screaming my name, rocking your world." Sam comments, before kissing one of your breasts. "I love your body, so small compared to mine, so much that I'm afraid I'll break you every time I touch you, but at the same time so sinful that I can't stop myself from doing the worst sins they ever came up with even in hell."

You fail to respond too caught up in everything the boy is making you feel. You feel like it's the first time in years you've breathed again, the first time you've really tasted oxygen.

"Sam, please, I'm going to-" You are interrupted by a kiss from him.

"Me too baby." He replies after pulling away from your lips. "Your pussy is squeezing my cock so hard, I think I'm about to go crazy." He comments, and it seems that his words are the keys to reach again that already before, only with his fingers had you tasted, but that was but a paltry appetizer, this was of the magnitude of a wedding feast. Your whole body quivers with force, as your center, in pleasure, tightens even tighter around his size, making you feel the size of his member even more.

Just as Sam's words were for you, for him it seems that your orgasm triggers his, in fact when you finally seem to have regained some mental clarity, after spending several minutes with your mind clouded, drowsy with pleasure, you feel your womb being filled with his seed, and you have another orgasm, smaller than before, but still quite important.

It is some time before both of you have caught your breath, in each other's arms. You remain in silence enjoying the warmth of the naked body of the person you love by your side. Then without saying a word Sam moves to your side and encircles you with his arms, having spread a blanket over your uncovered bodies. You fall asleep within minutes, with a smile on your lips, both of you happy to be close to the one you love, and especially happy to know that the one you love loves you back.

BONUS (I can't help it, I love bonuses too much :) )

Dean sits at the kitchen table as Cas hands him a steaming cup of coffee. He thanks him with a whisper before sipping his drink in silence. The only noise in the room is that of the liquid slipping over his lips as the two lovers stare into the void, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually it is the angel who breaks the silence.

"We need to soundproof the rooms better." He comments, and Dean can make no more than a sound of approval. They had not slept a wink because of your shouting, and as happy as they were to know that now the tension between the two of you had been cleared up, they also did not want to hear how their nephew was created, since his brother and you had not made much effort to be quiet. And this was not the first time. Since you had come out to each other now almost a month ago, every night you had done nothing but shout each other's names in pleasure, so much so that often both Dean and Cas had decided to go for a drive, but they couldn't take it anymore.

"You're damn right." Dean says before taking another sip of coffee. "You know I almost preferred it when they hadn't come out, now I'm afraid to turn the corner and watch them procreate on the library table." Dean comments amused, finishing his drink as he sees his boyfriend shoot him a look and a smile.

"As if we never did." Cas says, laughing.

"But they don't know that." Dean replies, giving him a wink, then getting up and leaving a gentle kiss on his forehead and heading out of the room, obviously checking to make sure you are not in it.

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